#but most of the time she just falls flat on her face because he was going too fast and tripped on a rock

[chipistrate]

Cassie and Elizabeth are roller blade gals, Michael is a skateboard dude, CC is a scooter kid, and Gregory and Cassidy both ride those small motorcycles made for kids

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[isabelguerra]

im gonna be honest the only thing keeping me from uploading wizard au fics out of order is because itd fuck with the character development as they grow from 2nd year -> 6th year but like. would people even care. is there a preference. do you have any interest in seeing how they got there or do you just Want To See It.

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[leaawrites]

Underwater

Percy Jackson x daughter of Dionysus

!Aged up characters!

Warnings: drinking, kissing, use of Y/n, fem reader, being underwater, fluff,

(I have only read the first book + bit of the second)

Summary: Beach day with Percy.

Masterlist

The wine in her hands cooled down by the time the sun went down. She couldn’t drink too much of it before, because from the sun it was stood in for too long the liquid was warm and not nice to taste in her opinion.

The waves crashed at the shore of the beach. Camp Half-Blood felt like it was almost as empty as it can get. Sure, there were still a few souls left behind, but most of the kids were on summer break. Annabeth left the two of them a day or two prior to this with a look that screamed, ‘Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.’ Which was a lot, in Y/n’s opinion.

The difference between the two girls was big. One who liked to drink and feel pleasure, while the other liked to be out in the world, fighting, planning, winning.

The wine got caught up in her throat as she laughed how Percy played in the water like a little kid, making her cough.

Percy’s eyes snapped to her, when he heard the coughing sounds coming from the shore. He knew that nothing bad could really happen (beside her choking on the liquid) but he was still concerned.

Y/n put her hand up in assurance, telling him that everything was fine, even as she was still fighting for her life.

The waves hit her skin as she wandered further into his direction. She was knee deep in the water, and soon enough Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, stood in front of her, taking the glass from her hands and taking a bit of the wine himself. The stone that was in the water beside them was a flat surface, perfect to place a drink on top of it.

Percy put the glass down and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. Y/n sucked in a breath at the contact of his cold arms and her warm skin.

“You wanna go for a swim?” He asked her, smiling as the sun hit her face perfectly. Making her shine just as bright as she was seen by him. Her face glowing from the heat, her hair moving around her face in the wind.

The girl closed one eye, before putting her hand up against the side of her face, to shield them from the sun. The water on his face wandered over to her skin as their foreheads touched. Seeing the split between her hand and his face, she moved it over to shield his eyes from the sun rather than her own.

“I would like to.” she smiled at him, crunching up her nose and touching his. Percy’s head was higher then hers - his whole body was taller than hers - which resolved in her having to go up to her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips. “But the water is cold,” she whispered against his lips.

This was the only downside of the heat and the need to cool down. The water was too cold for her liking.

Percy looked at her in a are-you-serious way, tilting his head to the side. The sun quickly dried the water drops, that his arms left on her waist, after he removed them. Taking her hands in his, he slowly guided the girl further into the water. When it brushed mid her chest, she stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well.

“What is it?” The boy asked, looking at her confused.

“I think that’s enough,” she answered.

For someone who usually could talk for hours on end and always had to prove herself, Y/n was extremly shy when it came to cold temperatures. She didn’t like the way her skin would feel like it was clinging to her body when touching it.

Percy moved his arms from her hands to her waist again. Y/n could see a smirk forming on his face and she was sure she knew what was about to come from his mouth.

“I’m very sorry for this,” he apologized beforehand for what he was about to do.

Tightening his grip on her waist he let gravity win and make his body fall backwards into the water behind him. Y/n shrieked when her body fell together with his, splashing water as their force hit the surface. Underwater, Percy pulled her body closer to his, letting his lips melt together with her, in order to make her stay there for a little while longer.

Y/n was the first one to resurface from the water. When she saw curls come up beside her, she began to splash Percy full with water. She wanted him to regret what he’d done. But there was nothing that could make him regret it.

It was a perfect summer day in the sea and he was with her. In some sense, that moment felt like it was all that would ever matter to him. He would never be ashamed of telling the story of how they were human. How they acted too immature for a few hours every day, so that their fun wouldn’t disappear. Life was too short to pretend that nobody was immature. Everyone was in some way.

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.4 - O, Death

Lisa & Shuhua x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

You can't stop screaming.

Even when you were a kid, you have never been a big fan of slides. They make you want to puke. Seems like it still haven't changed because as you spiral down this endless glowing tunnel of light, you can feel your lunch trying to escape from your stomach. Further worse, the tunnel twists and turns at every few seconds so your body get tossed around like a volley ball. Thankfully, the walls aren't solid. They feel more like trampolines, catching and tossing you each time you make contact.

Kazuha is a completely different case though. She has her eyes closed and looks almost peaceful, like this is just a regular occurence to her. She has her arms wrap around her knees, her hair floating upward from the fall.

You have no idea where you are headed to. Sure, Kazuha has saved you from the ruins of the city but who can say she doesn't want to kill you either? Maybe she has just let Yeji suffer so that she can take her time killing you. What if she's leading you to an even worse place?

And the mysterious 'He' all these idols keep talking about. The one who has given you the strength to defeat Eunbi. The one Yeji hates so much. From what Kazuha had said, they seem to serve him. Is he also an idol replica? The leader of all those clones?

Your thoughts are cut short when the tunnel turns steeper and your body rolls a three-sixty degree. A few more seconds of this and you are gonna be rolling in your own vomit. If it's even possible, the tunnel is glowing brighter. Perhaps, a sign of nearing the journey's end. You close your eyes because you don't want to see black spots for the rest of your life.

The last thought enters your mind. The upside down pentagram that has filled you with strength. The mark, Kazuha and Yeji had called it. And your cock that can now be used as a subsitute flashlight. Not really a good idea.

The lust you have felt is almost inhuman, like you can just use any female in your sight for your pleasure. It has been the only thing in your mind until the mark has disappeared. It makes you feel special yet afraid. You nearly lost your dick because Yeji wants the mark gone. There can be more people (or creatures) like her out there with the same intention. Is it a price worth paying?

Suddenly, your mind goes blank as the tunnel empties out into a wide opening.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

For once, you are not lying on a flat surface or tied up in a chair. The material beneath you feels soft almost cottony. You can just sink into it forever. You take a few deep breath to calm your churning stomach and when your heatbeat becomes normal, you sit up, opening your eyes.

You are not in the midst of an apocalypse or a boxing ring. A good sign. However, that doesn't make the scene around you any less unusual. You are in a penthouse suite, the kind of place only the richest of the rich could afford.

At your back, a smart TV playing the 1968 version of Romeo and Juliet takes up most of the wall which curves into a corridor that leads further in. On the pedestal near the tv sits a bust of a young girl with a laurel wreath on her head, the kind you see in museums. Facing the pedestal on the other side of the room is an island kitchen, painted pastel pink. Everything on the counter screams diabetes which includes jars of chocolates, sweets and lollipops. The air smell sickly sweet like decaying flowers. You won't be surprised if Willy Wonka walks in right now.

The walls are made entirely of glass, giving you the perfect view of New York city skyline. Then you blink and the scene shifts into the sandy dunes of Egypt with the pyramids. Another blink and you are staring at the lush green trees of the Amazon. Not the craziest thing after all the crazies you went through.

"Not on my couch, Kazuha! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Looking down, you find yourself seated in a couch that looks suspiciously like it's made of some sort of fur. Instinctively, you stand up. Whoever the owner is, they don't seem too happy with your arrival. Turning back, you see Kazuha emerge from the corridor, followed by the owner of the voice.

"Oh, you can just buy another one. It's not like this is your first"

"This is a limited edition!"

The guy behind Kazuha gives you a forced smile like he's trying so hard not to get mad. He looks no older than 25 with wavy blonde hair and a drowsy expression on his face. He also has a bathrobe wrapped around his body so it looks like he has fallen asleep in the bath tub. Walking to the kitchen counter, he plops a candy into his mouth from one of the jars.

"Welcome, Michael" He bites down on the candy with a loud crunch. "Or should I say chosen one? "

For some reason, his voice sounds strangely familiar.

"You summon me here?" You ask.

"You can say that. It wasn't my initial plan though. But well, I can't complain" He shrugs.

"Who are you?" Not the most important question but the first one that comes to your mind.

"Questions immediately huh? Can't blame you though I have kept you in the dark for so long" He unwraps a chocolate bar and takes a bite. You don't want to be this dude's teeth.

"Wait, are you the one...?" You suddenly realize why he sounds so familiar. It's the voice that has appeared in your first two quests.

"Eh eh eh" He raises a hand to cut off your words. "I like to introduce myself in a bit of a mysterious way"

"Why can't you just tell me your name? And I still have a lot of questions left"

"Patience, Michael" He chomps down another large piece of chocolate. "I will explain everything to you, trust me"

"Ok, go on?"

"Well, I'm quite the famous one. You see me at least once a year. Actually, all you humans have some kind of connection to me"

If he's a celebrity, you are pretty sure you haven't seen him before. And all you humans? To you, he looks very human so it would be quite hard to believe if he's something else.

"No idea"

"Oh, come on" The guy scowls, wiping off the chocolate around his mouth. "Think again. There's even a song about me"

You think as hard as you could but nothing comes to your mind.

"Still no idea"

"Dude, I expect you to be smarter than this. Look around you, this room is already giving me away"

He's definitely not Willy Wonka but there's nothing else you can associate with this fancy expensive room.

"Can't you just tell me the answer already?"

"Listen to me" He clears his throat and starts singing. "I gave a second chance to Cupid. But now I'm left here feelin' stupid"

You quickly cut him off because if you hear one more second of his god awful voice, your ears are gonna start bleeding.

"Cupid? You are Cupid?"

The guy grins contentedly. "The greeks called me that but I prefer my roman name 'Eros' "

When you hear the word Cupid, all it comes to your mind is the image of a winged baby in a diaper holding a bow and an arrow that you see in Valentines day decorations. Certainly not some sweet toothed blonde.

"You don't look like him"

"Like a baby in a diaper? Oh, please" He grimaces. "If I meet the guy who starts that idea, I'm gonna strangle him with my bare hands"

You still have a hard time believing this dude is the god of love but you decides to go with the flow.

"The one who sends me on all those quests, that's you?"

"Absolutely. It takes quite a while but finally, here you are"

"I don't understand"

Eros pours water into his mouth from a jar. You feel bad for his dates.

"For a long time, I have been searching for the owner of the mark"

"That mark on my-?"

"Yes, the one on your pelvis. You possess the mark of Asmodeus"

"Ass what?"

"Asmodeus" He corrects. "Only a single person is chosen by the mark every few millenniums. Today, it made its first appearance"

"So I'm special or something?"

"You are far beyond special, Michael. You have the power to....what do you humans call it again? fuck any being in this whole universe"

"In english please?"

"Let me ask you something, do you believe in gods?"

His question leaves you baffled. You are not a regular church member or the type who prays before sleeping. The only times you remember god are the times you scream 'Oh my god' when you slip and fall.

"I have never given much thought to the subject"

"Let me ask you a different question then, what do you think gods look like?"

"I don't know. In white robes and long moustaches?"

Eros chuckles. "Ehh they still depict us like that. Actually, no. Look at me, I'm a god. What do I look like?"

"A human?" An obvious answer yet it sounds stupid.

"Correct" Eros snaps his fingers. "Gods take on the form of humans. Well, our branch of gods at least"

"Hold on" You stop him before your hair is set ablaze from all the new questions that have filled your brain. "Gods are real?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Ero asks. "I know it's hard for you to believe but we are very much real"

You are still not convinced. For all you know, this guy could be some mentally ill millionaire who likes to cosplay gods.

"Oh, you need some proof, I see"

Eros snaps his fingers and suddenly, you are hovering above the ground. You want to scream but you can't. It's like someone have stolen your voice.

"Is it enough proof?"

You nod desperately and Eros snaps his fingers again, sending you sprawling on the hard floor. Trying not to groan from the pain, you stand up slowly.

"Ok, so you are a god. And I have the mark of Ass whatever. What about all those idols? They aren't real, are they?"

"Oh, far from it" Eros answer. "But they are the perfect replicas"

"You created them?"

"Oh, no. That's their own choice. And that takes us back to the old topic. What kind of human forms do you think gods take? Not everyone can be as handsome as me, right?"

You are not sure if he can be called handsome with his choice of fashion but you keep your mouth shut.

"Just....humans?"

Eros shakes his head. "You are not wrong but let me elaborate. Since the dawn of time, the gods have changed into many forms. Those bearded drawings you saw of us? They are our oldest forms. But as times change, we change too"

He chugs down more water from the jar, sending some spilling across his robe.

"We takes on the forms of the most famous figures through history. Cosplaying, like you humans say. It makes us feel perfect. Then when the 21st century comes, a great change happens"

Eros pauses for a moment just to raise your curiosity. Then he continues.

"The idols. No one have ever been as close to perfection as them. Sure, there are some remarkable ones like Helen and Cleopatra but they are nowhere near as perfect. All the goddesses went crazy, taking on the form of the ones they think are the most perfect"

"All the goddesses? What about the gods then?"

"Us males aren't much of a fan. We still like being Alexander or Tom Hanks, or just a random handsome guy like me"

"Then all those idols I met, they are goddesses?"

"Well, no" Eros contrasts. "Let's just say the others follow the trend. They wanted to cosplay too"

"The others?"

"The gods aren't the only beings that exist along with humans. Monsters, sorcerers, you name it. For the idols you met, they are cherubims, my servants"

"Cherubims? Like angels?"

"Sort of. Yes"

You don't know if you should be glad you have been fucking angels all those time. You hope it doesn't have any side effects.

"They don't seem too fond of me"

"Why do you think I created the 'Ero' app in the first place? It's a test. I send quests to all the possible candidates of the mark through the app. Most don't wake up after the jump, the rest face a worse fate. But you, you survive all of them"

"Thanks. I nearly get my dick cut off"

"That's not my fault. You see, for the quests, I create small dimensions and put a cherubim in each of them. I call those dimensions the 'Eroverses'. Pretty cool, right?"

You don't know how naming everything after your first three initials is cool but you are not gonna argue with a god.

"Most of my servants don't complain. But well, some rebels and Yeji, she gets mad at me. She destroyed one of the Eroverses and kidnaps you there. But it's all for the better because it awakens the mark"

"One last question, you lent me strength when I was with Eunbi. Why?"

"Let's just say you are very promising. I don't want you out of the game early"

Most of the questions you have had on your mind has been answered. However, it doesn't make you any less confused. You feel like a restricted area of a brain has been unlocked. An area that should have never been opened.

"So, the gods are real and they are idols and I have the mark of Ass whatever. Now what?"

"I have a proposal for you" Eros's tone has the slightest hint of slyness. "Be my apostle"

"Come again?"

Eros sighs. "You are pretty dumb for a writer"

"Hey, being a writer doesn't mean I know everything"

"Anyway, what I want to say is, work for me"

"No thanks, I don't want any more idols trying to kill me"

"Listen till the end. I can give you anything you have ever want. Sex? Money? Luxury? In return, you only need to vow your loyalty to me"

"And what exactly I need to do for you?"

"You have the mark. I want you to utilize it to do my biddings"

"I don't get it"

"Just consider it as more quests. Not as easy as the last ones though"

Is this guy joking? You were playing with your life all this time and he thinks it's easy. If he considers those quests easy, the next ones might be a thousand times worse.

"There's one condition though" Eros continues. "You have to stay here with me. You can no longer go back to your old life"

"And where exactly is here?"

Eros gestures towards the glass wall, beyond which now lies Venice with its canals and boats.

"Everywhere and nowhere" He explains. "Consider it an alive building, constantly shifting from one place to another. You know, I don't like beauty being confined in one form"

His explanation doesn't exactly answer your question but you focus on the more important matter. Eros's proposal sounds intriguing. You can stay here, work for him and acquire everything you have ever dream of. The downside is that you will always be on the brink of death. The reward is high and so is the risk.

Or you can say no and go back to being an ordinary unsuccessful writer. There's no downside here but no upside either. And you are not even sure he will send you back if you turn him down. That guy is looking at you like an exotic animal. So, you make the obvious choice.

"I'm in"

Eros looks like he's going to pass out with joy. "I know you would accept it. See, Kazuha? I told you"

Kazuha, who has been silent all this time simply shrugs.

"Glad you are happy"

Eros rub his hands, an ugly grin plastered on his face.

"Well, we will discuss about your quest tomorrow. For now, I want you to rest. Lisa?"

From the corridor, another idol emerges. Lisa, the member of blackpink. After seeing the way she's dressed, you instantly start to get hard again despite fucking Yeji's brains out just a while ago. Lisa's perky tits are covered by a metallic bra and her skirt isn't doing its work properly because it consists entirely of metallic beads that expose almost all of her round ass.

"Yes, my lord?" Lisa asks, walking towards eros. You caught a glimpse of her trimmed pussy as the beads sway and dance.

"Take Michael to room 3" Eros orders. The jar of candy on the counter is nearly empty now. He should have been the god of diabetes, not love.

"Of course" Lisa gestures you to follow her and you oblige. However, your eyes are glued to her bare ass. If she has not been worldwide famous, you would have thought she's a stripper. Maybe this version of her is. You just want to reach out and grope that thai ass. It tempts and tempts you with each step she takes. But after finding out those idols are actually angels, you have become more thoughtful.

Lisa leads you through the corridor which soon opens up into a large circular hall with an enormous marble statue of Eros in the middle, a young man with two large wings sprouting from his back and the iconic grin on his face. You are starting to hate this guy even more.

"This way" Lisa walks towards one of the many doors that that line the walls of the hall. The number 3 is carved onto its wooden frame. She simply touches the door and arcs of light spread in all directions. The next moment, it's unlocked.

"This is the room you are gonna be staying in. If you need anything, there's a telephone on the desk. Just call 001"

"Alright"

Lisa bows and leaves, giving you one last view of her toned ass beneath the beaded skirt.

Your room is nothing less luxurious than the rest of the building, a suite with a seperate living room and a bedroom. It contains every possible items that can entertain the human's mind. It's oil and water compared to your old apartment.

As you enter the bedroom, your eyes are blessed by the view of the Victoria Falls beneath the dying sunlight through the glass walls. Why travel the world when you can do the same thing here?

The queen size bed is already beckoning you to crash out but you decide to take a shower first. You start reflecting on everything that have happened today as the cold droplets of water run down your body. In a day, you have went from a broke writer to an apostle of a god. You wonder if anyone will miss you after you disappear without a trace. Maybe Russell would. But he might just be the only one. You have always been a loner and it would be no surprise if no one notices your disappearance.

The important thing is you will be living the life you have always wanted. Just with a few catches. You instinctively touch your pelvis, remembering the mark. For now, it doesn't have any weird burning symbol. 'You have the ability to fuck any being in this whole universe' Eros has said. Now, you are not sure if it's a really useful ability. On second thought, invisibility or even flying would have been better.

However, you are too tired to be wrestling with your own incompetence because the exhaustion is starting to creep up your body slowly. As soon as you have changed, you throw yourself on the huge bed and fall asleep.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your dreams aren't as comforting as your bed.

You are back in the ruins of the greek city, tied up to the chair and your pants pulled down. Both Eunbi and Yeji have surrounded you, a gladius in each of their hands. A smile creep up from the corner of Yeji's lips as she raises the sword.

"This time no one's gonna save you"

Eunbi follows suit, raising her sword and bringing it down to your mamba. No burning symobls appear. No Kazuha to save you. You are done for real this time. As the sharp edges land, you scream.

"What's wrong?"

A voice snaps you out of the nightmare. You gasp and open your eyes. Your whole body is drenched in sweat from the aftermath of the dream. As your heartbeat returns to normal, you start feeling a warm sensation in your lower body.

Looking down, you find your pants pulled down but not to cut your dick off this time. Lisa's face hover just a few inches from your morning wood, a string of drool connecting her lips and the head.

"Did I scare you?" she asks.

You shake your head. "No, just having a nightmare"

"Shall I get back to work then?"

"Sure"

Lisa immediately dive back on your cock, taking half of your length into her mouth in one swift motion. While she's bobbing up and down, her tongue assists by twirling around your leaking slit, collecting your precum.

She's still wearing the same outfit as last night and she has raised her ass, giving you the view of her toned buttocks beneath those beads. You still can't fulfill your goal to grope her ass but the way she blows you is enough to diverge your attention.

There's no doubt she has experince. It's evident from every single move that consist in this mind blowing work of hers. She makes sure that her lips trace every single throbbing vein, swallowing more of your cock with each bob. The gagging sound that accompany her movements do nothing except fuel the lust inside you. She would look up from time to time, her eyes asking you if she's doing a good job and you reply with moans and groans.

Just as you are thinking about closing your eyes, Lisa devours your whole length, taking it down her throat. Another groan escape your lips. There's no way you are going to miss the view of her nose pressed against your pelvis now. The idea of closing your eyes have been thrown out ofthe window.

She holds the position for a few more seconds before releasing your cock from her warm cavern with a loud 'pop'. With drool seeping down her lips, she looks like a vixen rather than an angel, a naughty one at that.

"Are you feeling good, daddy?"

Your cock twitches at the mention of your new name. You are amazed at the wonders a simple word could do to your body. Or either you are just being a hopeless pervert.

"Yes, very"

Lisa smiles at your compliment and reward you by taking you into her mouth again. This time, she makes sure your tip hit the back of her throat with each bob. Her saliva spills like a waterfall onto your bedsheet but that's the last thing you care about right now. Eros can pay for the housekeeping.

Just to get a change of sight, you turn your head to the window. The snow covered mountains and the cozy little houses of Greenland glitter under the rising sun. But they can't capture your attention for too long because glaciers aren't as captivating as the scene unfolding between your legs.

Lisa's pace remains unwavered, solely focused on using her oral hole as a tool for your release. She hold on to your thighs for support as she gobbles up your cock like a popsicle far more tastier than all those sweets Eros have. Her tonguework remains as impressive, licking up any part she could whenever your length exit her throat.

This might just be heaven, you thought. Getting head while you travel the world in a skyscrapper. You could put up with all those bullshits Eros is up to if you can stay like this forever. Even death starts to seem like a worthy risk.

Even with all the effort you are putting in to hold back, Lisa's blowjob is sending you to the point of no return with each passing second. The sight of your cock covered in her saliva and that raised ass of hers proven to be lethal as you stary feeling the tug in your stomach. As your cock throbs harder, you warn Lisa.

"Lisa, I'm gonna cum"

Lisa pulls you out of her mouth to speak, momentarily denying your release.

"Where do you want to cum, daddy? Into my mouth or on my pretty little face?" she asks as she strokes your cock just slow enough to hold back your flood gates from breaking open.

"Let me paint your face"

"Of course, daddy"

Lisa starts stroking your cock with both her hands, twisting and turning every single inch. Her drool acts as the perfect lube, smoothing out her movements. The coil inside you unravel and soon you are emptying your balls onto Lisa's face, jets after jets of cum landing on her face. Most of it make their way onto her nose. Some spread our across her cheeks and a few drops landing on her eyelids.

Lisa collect the genetic fluid with her fingers, sucking on each of them while her eyes bore into yours.

"Mhmm, it's so tasty" Lisa says as she licks up the last of your cum. "Thanks for the meal, daddy"

"Yeah, no problem"

Lisa stands up and stretches. It's hard to believe you just cummed because her stripper outfit is filling up your balls again with a new supply of semen.

"Daddy, you should clean up. Lord Eros is waiting for you"

"Sure. I will come"

Lisa bows and leaves, her hips swaying from side to side. You make a mental note to grope that ass at some point. You get out of the bed, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. You should use that jacuzzi when you don't have an appointment with the god of love. The wardrobe contains every luxury brand one can think of and they fits you perfectly. You decide to go simple with slim jeans and a shirt (Gucci, by the way) and head to the living room where Eros is waiting.

The music is the first thing to greet you. "My heart will go on" blasting at full volume. It's as if Eros can't help proving he is indeed the god of love. It's overkill in your opinion.

The song stops as soon as you enter and Eros turns to you, smiling over the straw of the juice cup he's drinking from. This morning, he's dressed in a toga which is too big for him that it's drapping and pooling around his legs. Seriously, this guy needs a fashion advisor.

"Morning, Michael!" Eros greets as he finishes up his morning dose of diabetes. "Did you sleep well?"

You remember the nightmare but you decide not to tell him. "Yeah, I'm fine"

"You must be hungry. Kazuha, bring him breakfast"

Kazuha walks from the kitchen counter, holding a tray. She's still wearing the same dress. Do angels even change?

"This is Eros's idea" Kazuha says as she hands you the tray and as soon as you take a look you understand what she means. A cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake which looks overbaked lies in the tray. Your name is spelled in whipped cream on the plate of watermelon slices. You instantly lost your appetite.

"Hey, it's cool, right?" Eros asks.

You have to hold back the urge to comment on his definition of cool. "Yeah, very cool"

"See, Kazuha? You should start appreciating my ideas more" Kazuha, who seems already used to this just remain silent at Eros's words.

"I will explain you about your quest while you eat" Eros gestures at the tray of food.

You takes a sip of the coffee, which seems like the best option. Surprisingly, it tastes just like normal coffee. Thank god Eros doesn't make it cool.

"I need you to steal an object" Eros unfolds his palms and a hologram of a corinthian helmet pops off, the kind the greeks wore in wars. It seems to be made of obsidian, cracks spreading across its black surface.

"This is the helm of Hades" Eros explains. "And I need you to retrieve it from the underworld"

Suddenly, the coffe tastes like lead.

"Underworld?" you ask. "Like hell?"

"Not entirely but yes" The hologram in Eros's palm grow larger, the helmet now the same size as the real one. "This helmet has the ability to turn its wearer invisible and possesed by Hades, the god of the underworld. Your task is simple. Enter his realm, get the helmet and get out"

The quest is anything but simple. Your last three quests have been based entierly on sex and even then, you have near death encounters. You survive this far because luck has been on your side. But stealing something a god owns is a totally different case. You don't even know how the mark can helps you here. You are sure flashing your cock at a male god wouldn't do the job. Even if it does, you want to throw up at the idea.

"Oh, not to worry. You won't meet him" Eros answers your thoughts. "He's away for business"

That's a relief. There's no way a mere mortal like you can go up against a god.

"But there's someone else you will meet" Eros tone turns malicious. He looks almost happy. "You have to go through his wife, Persephone"

"Pussy what?"

"Michael, can you not misehear things with certain body parts for once?" Eros sighs. "Persephone, the goddess of vegetation. The queen of the underworld"

The goddess of vegetation sounds a lot less scary than god of the underworld. But still,a god is a god.

"So, what do I do?"

Eros unclasps his palm and the hologram disappears. "Hades keep his helm in a safe, which can only be unlocked by a spoken password. Apart from him, only his wife knows it"

"I doubt I can charm her into telling me"

"Then fuck the answer out of her!" Eros says it like its something so obvious. "Use the mark!"

"How? I don't even know how to activate it. It takes someone trying to end my bloodline to activate it the last time"

"That's a matter you have to figure out"

"Even if I do, the underworld isn't a tourist spot. How do I even go there?"

"Excuses, huh? Good thing I have it all planned out" Eros pulls out a flask from beneath his toga. "Easy, you have to die"

You almost spit out the coffee. "You are kidding, right?"

"No?" Eros tilts his head like you just speak in a language he doesn't understand.

"Come on..."

"Only dead people go to the underworld so you have to die"

"Can't you just transport me there? Or you are a god, you can just go in and grab the helmet"

"It's not that simple. I can go to the underworld, yes. But there's no way Persephone will tell me the password and Hades will find out. And if I just send you there, you will be alive and they will quickly sense your presence. Trust me, you don't wan to be alive there"

"Isn't there any other way?"

"Sadly, no. But I have a way to bring you back after you complete the task" Eros pulls out a small vial from his toga again. He shakes the vial to show you the yellow liquid inside. "Drink this and you will be back to life"

"It sounds easier said than done"

"Kazuha will explain you the rest of the details"

Kazuha waves her hand and a map replaces part of the glass wall.

"This is the underworld" Kazuha starts explaining the regions of the place you will soon be going to and you have never focused more in your life. As Kazuha finishes, whatever hope that remains in you has been lost.

"It's impossible" you groan.

"It is. But that's what you do Michael. You remove the 'im' in impossible" Eros's encouragements sounds more like a joke.

"What if I don't make it?"

"You will. I trust you. So are you ready?"

You are totally not but you nod.

"Excellent! Lies on the couch"

"Isn't it a limited edition or something?"

"This is a special ocassion"

You sink into the soft material, heart already racing with fear and excitement. Eros removes the cork from the flask, offering it to you and then he suddenly puts it down.

"God! I nearly forget" Eros fishes into his toga and bring out a silver coin. You wouldn't be surprised if he pulls out a car next.

"Put this under your tongue. Your ferry fees"

You put the cold piece of metal into your mouth. It tastes sour somehow. Eros put the vial in your pocket. Can the object even follow you to the afterlife? You have no choice but to trust him.

"And we are all set! Now.." Eros bring the flask to your lips. "Drink"

You takes a sip of the liquid, which tastes like a combination of ketchup and sewer water. You expect your insides to start burning but there's no pain. Eros shuts your eyes with a wave of his hand. "Goodnight"

A drowsy feeling overwhelms you. It can almost be mistaken for sleepiness except that you can no longer move your body. If this is death, it's not so bad. No more thoughts form in your mind as your consciousness drift away bits by bits.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Dark. Inky. Murky.

All of these words are perfect for describing the underworld.

As you wake up slowly on the shore of black sand, the first thing you notice is the gloom. It's hovering over the place, giving it a permanent dreadful atmosphere. But that's just the start of things that suck the joy out of your heart.

All around you, humanoid shapes litter the shore. Then you realize they are actually humans, or what used to be humans. Most of them wear a solemn expression on their faces, wandering around aimlessly. Their bodies are see through, like those spirits you see in movies. Their outfits range from the Victorian era to modern day designer suits. The majority of them are adults but you spot a few children. In short, it's a crowd of hopeless souls.

Looking down, you find yourself in the same condition: see through. Beyond the shore, on the bank of an inky black river, a cloaked figure sits on a boat. Charon, the ferryman of the dead; Kazuha had explained.

You walk to the boat and Charon looks up. He's a scraggly old man with wrinkles all over his face. "Payment?" he demands.

The coin Eros has given you is no longer under your tongue but you found it in your jeans pocket and hand it to the ferryman. Charon takes the payment with his gnarled fingers and grab the oar. "Get in"

As the boat drifts slowly away from the shore, something unexpected happens. Some of the souls on the shore start to run towards the boat, their lifeless eyes glimming with enthusiasm. You start to panic but Charon simply swaths away the hitch hikers swimming across the black liquid with the oar. He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest bit.

As boat makes it way to the other side with the speed a snail could outrun, you think about suggesting Hades to buy a faster vehicle. A motorboat wouldn't be impossible with all those riches he has underground.

After an eternity, you finally make it to the other shore where the harder part of your quest starts. As soon as you get off, Charon rows back to the opposite side, leaving you on the beach of the same black sand.

Before you rise a towering wall of obsidian which stretch off as far as your eyes can see. A path leads to the opening in the middle of the wall but it isn't left unguarded either. Hovering over the queue of souls that pass under its belly is the largest hound you have ever seen. If the sheer size of the monster isn't intimidating enough, its three heads do the job; their mouths opened to reveal fangs that can snap a plane in half. For the finishing touch, its black fur fits perfectly with the surroundings. This dog literally screams 'underworld'.

You reluctantly get behind the line of souls, pouring into the inside of the wall. According to Kazuha, beyond it would lies the judgement pavilion, where the death will be judged and sent to a suitable place depending on how they have lived their lives. Your quest requires you to take a different path after getting inside the walls. And even if you are judged right now, the result wouldn't be pretty.

As the queue gets shorter and you approach the walls, your kneels start to buckle. You have been able to hold back your fear till now but after hearing the agonizing screams that ring out from the fields of punishment, you start doubting yourself.

To start, you only have the slightest idea of where you are heading to and even if you do get there, you have to interrogate a goddess with your dick. Part of you also wonder why Eros needs the helmet. If it's for decoration, the thing radiates pure darkness and isn't exactly to his taste. Nevertheless, you have come this far and the only way is onward.

A horrible stench tickle your nostrils and that's when you look up and find yourself under the belly of the beast. It would have crushed anything alive to pieces which you luckily aren't. The souls disappear into the wall one after another and soon, you are at the front of the line. Two skeletal guards in combat armor have barricaded the entrance by crossing their spears and you have to look away from their hollow eye sockets before you get the urge to turn and run.

"Elysium!" A judgement is passed from inside the walls and the guards uncross their spears, allowing you entry. A pebble path lies the way to the tall marble pavilion. Another path curves to the right, leading deeper into the underworld. The path to Hades's palace. The path you have to take.

But the task proves harder than you thought with the skeletal guards lining both sides of the way. There's no way you can try to sneak or run away. Luckily, you have one last trick up your sleeve. A gift from Kazuha.

You pull out the pocket watch from your jeans and turns the winder. As soon as it turns a 90 degree, the clock shatters to pieces. For a moment, nothing happens. The guards watch you with quizzical expressions. Then they freeze. Everything is still. Time has stopped.

Kazuha has said it will last about 10 seconds but you are not taking any chances. You push through the guards and run down the path to Hades's palace. Fortunately, there aren't any guards this way. Maybe Hades like to have some privacy. Nevertheless, your speed does not waver, trying to get as far as possible before those guards can find out what have happened.

At your right lies a dusty plane filled with dead trees, their branches crooked and leafless. The fields of Asphodel, where the souls who deserve neither paradise nor punishment are sent to. Souls similar to the ones you have seen at the other side wander the place aimlessly. However, they look...dimmer, fading in and out of place. To you, this endless roaming doesn't sound any better than the fields of punishment.

The place at your left is a completely different story. Crystal clear water encircle an enormous island with sandy shores and palm trees. Architecture from different eras occupy the inland. You can hear the faint sound of music and the smell of spices. Elysium, the paradise for only the most worthy souls. You spot a few souls, who are glowing unlike the others you have seen, dancing on the beach. This seems to be the only place free from the gloom of the underworld.

You have no time to envy though, as you move forward, the obsidian palace of Hades starts to come into view. This building is something out of a gothic nightmare. With its numerous towers and the huge sets of iron doors, it seems to absorb any light that dare comes near.

You stop to catch your breath from all the running you have been doing. Luckily, the guards still haven't found you. But it's nothing to celebrate because there's one last obstacle in your way. Guarding the palace's door are the two biggest skeletal warriors you have ever seen, each weilding an axe. You wish the pocket watch haven't shattered to pieces. If it have just one more use, you might be able to get pass those giants.

You try to come up with a plan. It's impossible to charge head on. You don't have anything that can be used as a weapon and you will be sliced to pieces. And even if there's a weapon, you doubt you can do much against those huge guards. Maybe you can try distracting? But how?

You are too distract drawing up something to infiltrate the palace you make the mistake of leaving your back turned for too long. The next thing you know, a blunt object have landed on your neck with so much force that you fall to your knees. Before passing out, the last thing you see is the permanent grin of a skeleton.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

At this point, you are already the epitome of passing out.

It can't leave you alone even when you are death like seriously? Here you are, making your way all through the underworld just to be knocked out at the last possible moment. That's partly your fault for being reckless but still, it annoys you.

Luckily, the headaches and the pain that usually follow those black outs isn't there this time. Maybe the dead can't be hurt. That doesn't make it appealing though. You would be perfectly fine with being a normal mortal.

"I know you are awake. Stop acting" A shrill voice forces you to open your eyes, finding your hands and legs tied to bed posts by green curly vines. The dim lanterns that line the walls illuminate the circular room made of the same materials as most of the structure in the underworld; obsidian. The thing that stands out the most, however, is the fresco of people getting tortured in various methods painted on the ceiling. If you want to have nightmares every single night, this room would be perfect.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" You locate the owner of the voice to your left. Shuhua, the member of (g)i-dle, stands propping to a bedpost. Her pearly white skin contrasts the black silky dress she's wearing, with a thigh slit to showcase her voluptous legs. She might look exactly like the idol but you know better.

"Persephone?" you ask.

"Oh, I'm flattered. Most people only know my husband. But drop the formalties. It's Shuhua"

You thought humans are obsessed enough with kpop but it seems like the gods are the biggest fans.

"A runner, huh?" Shuhua'a sharp fake nails trace across your chest and that's when you realize your clothes are gone. Speaking from experience, it's not really fun to see the bedsheets through your body. "I can tell you are not ordinary. That little trick you did to those guards. Tell me. Who are you?"

She doesn't seem to be aware of your real plan, which is good news. If you can just stall long enough and get your mark to activate somehow, you might have a chance.

"Michael" you answer.

"You know that's not what I mean" Shuhua's nails travel down to your stomach, drawing circles lazily. "Why do you come here?"

"I die. Would there be any other reason?"

"True. You are dead. But you wouldn't run all the way to my palace if you are just 'dead', will you?"

You fry your brain trying to come up with a logical answer without revealing the truth. But as usual, it fails you at the most vital moments.

"Trying to be silent?" A nail digs in to your pelvis, making you groan at the sudden burst of pain. Then another follows suit and you groan again. Seems like your theory about the dead being immune to pain is wrong. You don't bleed but the pain is ver much real. After all her five nails are planted in you, you are nearly shaking from the torment. Yet, you keep your mouth shut.

"Hmm, not bad" Shuhua extract her nails from your pelvis and you exhale in relief. "There's still plenty of other ways to break you though"

You start imagining the worst torture methods throughout history. If the gods have been around since the beginning, Shuhua would definitely have some knowledge. However, what she does next surprise you.

Shuhua lets a strap of her dress fall from her shoulder then the other, exposing her upper body. You have to avert your gaze from her tits not to get hard but fail as you can feel the blood starting to rush to your dick. The last time you are hard and tied up, the consequences haven't been so pretty. And now you are in the same position again.

Shuhua undo the rest of her dress, revealing her skin inch by inch as she slowly pulls down her dress. Being the pervert you are, your gaze land again on her cleanly shaved pussy and that gets your mamba springing right up.

Shuhua doesn't summon any blade to cut off your dick though. Instead, she gets on the bed, landing her feet on either sides of your head. "Let's see if you can still stay silent" Shuhua gives you a cold smile before lowering her ass right on your face.

You instantly lost your breath(not that way) as her hips comes crushing down on you and her legs straddle your head, giving you no room to escape. Your nose is squeeze between her buttocks, depriving you of of oxygen. Instead of strangling you, she's choking you with her ass. And another discovery. You can still choke if you are dead.

At first, you panic, shaking your body to find a way to escape despite the vines holding you down. Then you remember. There's only one thing to do if a girl sits on your face.

You starts to explore between her legs with your tongue though it's hard with her ass obscuring your view. After a few tries of licking her supple flesh, you finally find your target. As soon as your tongue comes in contact with the moist velvety slit, you dives in, tongue fucking her pussy. Shuhua lets out a moan and shift her hips a little from your sudden ambush, giving you a breath of air. As her ass presses down on your face again, you start licking frantically, tasting every inch of her goddess pussy. Either from pleasure or the urge to interrogate you farther, Shuhua's legs squeeze your head harder.

The pressure leaves your ears ringing but your task at hand is too important to care. Your tongue travels upwards,landing on her clit. Shuhua writhes as you give her sensitive bud a few licks before going back to her slit, which is now so wet you can literally glide on it. The lack of oxygen becomes less and less of a problem as Shuhua sway her hips the longer you take in everything her goddess pussy deliver. And her legs that once squeeze your head are now shaking so much they forget their initial job.

Shuhua isn't even hiding it anymore. Her moans reasonate around the room with every slurp and lick. To be honest, she acts like she does this to draw information from you when all she wanted was for someone to eat her out. This goddess is just one big slut. Your fear starts to drain from your body as you gain the upperhand in this game of ass and tongue. And you decide to make it an impossible one for her to win.

You abruptly stop the movement of your tongue and Shuhua's moans are left half formed. It's risky, yes. She could have just crash yout face with her ass again and choke you. Or......?

"Why....why did you stop?" Shuhua's voice is hoarse from all the moaning. The edgy tone replaced by one of lust.

"I thought you are interrogating me" You mock.

"Yes, yes I am"

"Then why did yoy ask me why I stop? Aren't you supposed to choke me?"

You have her cornered. Now, she can either admit she's a slut or give up on the pleasure she so desperately craves.

"I'm going to. If you don't continue" she threatens and you have to admit it scares you a bit but you pushes on. It's now or never.

"Really, though? You are the one who's on cloud nine after I tongue fuck your hole. Tell me, Shuhua. How long has it been since someone makes you cum?"

"Nonsense! I have plenty of ways to...relief myself. Now get back or else-"

"Or else what?" You cut her off. "You are just a slut who have no one to satisfy the urge of your slutty holes. Or is Hades not fucking you enough?"

"My husband is very busy.." She answers. "He doesn't have time for such luxuries..."

And that confirms your thoughts. The queen of the underworld is just one horny whore.

"You take me here just to fulfill your fantasies, didn't you? You are desperate enough to let a dead stranger in your room"

"No, that's not.." Shuhua protests but her lips betray her, letting out pants and moans as you swipe at her clit one single time with your tongue.

"Now, I'm going to make an offer. Admit you are a slut and I will give you what you need. Or you can deny it and be a horny bitch for eternity"

Shuhua is silent for a moment. Then her voice returns.

"Fine....I'm a....slut" Her words drops to a whisper.

"Can't hear you down here"

"I'm a slut" she finally admits and the deal is sealed. You have revealed the true face of this seemingly cold goddess. But being a man of your words, you would keep your promise.

Shuhua lets out an earth shattering moan as you feast on her pussy once again. The only difference this time is that she's no longer blocking your airway with her huge ass. Not that you mind though. Nevertheless, you tackle her most vunerable spots with each swipe of your tongue and Shuhua can do nothing except writhes and moans.

You really wish your hands haven't been tied up. That way, you would have been able to feel those silky thighs and allowed to take in more of her taste. But you gotta work with what you have and put in every effort to make this goddess cum.

You turn you attention solely on her clit, rapidly circling and teasing the spot with your tongue.

"Yes, just like that. Fuck my pussy with your tongue. Don't stop"

Shuhua thanks you with more carnal groans and moans. And from the way her legs are trembling non stop, you realize her end is near. The knowledge leads you to devour her pussy like there's no tomorrow and Shuhua's pleas to you not to stop are unnecessary because you don't plan to. Not with how sweet this goddess taste.

"Fuck. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum...fuckkkk"

A waterfall erupts from Shuhua's hole, showering your face with her squirt. You keep on licking her moist hole, trying to prolong the orgasm as long as possible. Shuhua lets out a few more jets of her nectar into your mouth then she goes limp, her moans now replaced by pants.

Her pussy is still hovering over your face and you have to fight the urge not to dive in again. You don't want to break her completely just yet. You still need something from her.

Shuhua finally gets off the bed, stuggering to a chair with her shaking legs and plop herself down. She lets out a few more pants then look up at you with the cold expression earlier.

"You are an idiot" Shuhua says. "I have used you. Now you are mine to do whatever I like"

The only thought on your mind? You are very very fucked. Sure, she has admit she's a whore and succumbed to pleasure. But there's one thing you miss. She'a a fucking goddess. And apparently, that's not a metaphor.

"Now, tell me who you are and who sent you. Or else..."

Shuhua twirls a finger and more vines start to creep up your hands and legs. They make their way down to your thorax and abdomen and in a moment your neck will be covered too. The goddess of vegetation seems to be as powerful as any other gods and it's your fault that you underestimate her.

"Wait!" You yell before those long curly things choke you and this time, it wouldn't be as pleasant.

"Yes?" Shuhua eyes you like a trapped animal, an amused smile on her lips.

"I will tell you.."

"Go on"

"I come to..."

You stop as the familiar tingle of adrenaline starts to emerge from your core. It gets stronger withe each passing second until the only thing on your mind is lust. No other emotions matter. The vines wrapping you turn to ashes in a second as a golden aura envelopes you. On your plevis, above your rock hard dick is the red pantegram, the mark of Asmodeus. Once again, a dead threat have activated it.

"It can't be..." Shuhua eyes widen in panic, backing off to a corner of the room.

"Oh, it is" You say with the grin of a mad man as you walk off the bed to her. "And I will show you"

Shuhua unfold her palms and more vines slither up your legs. But as soon as they touch your aura, the green things burst to flames. You are invisible.

"Back off!" Shuhua threatens. "I will kill you!"

"Oh, but I'm already dead" More vines go up to flames around your feet.

"If my husband knows-"

You close the distance between you and Shuhua, gazing into those eyes filled with terror.

"Maybe he will. But right now, there's no one to save you"

Shuhua starts to call for help but you are quicker, sealing her mouth with your palm.

"Not so fast now, hmm? I still need to teach you a lesson"

You grab Shuhua from the waist, throwing her onto the bed like a rag doll. With the strength the mark gives you, such a task is not impossible.

As you approach her, Shuhua attempts to kill you again with those vines but as usual,they disintegrate as soon as they touch the aura. Will she ever learn?

You get on the bed, looming over Shuhua who lays sprawled out. Not being able to use her vegetation abilities, she strikes you with her nails but you grab her wrist just in time.

"Seriously?" You ask as you pin her hands down. "Is that all you got?"

"You bastard!" Shuhua curses. "You will pay for this"

"You talk too much" You capture her lips with yours, restricting any more curses from coming out.

Finally, you plunge your cock into her already moist slit, enticing a moan from her which is quickly muffled by your lips. The only sounds she will be making are the slapping sound of your dick against her cervix.

You start out slow, giving her lazy thrusts to get accustomed to the size of your cock. The feeling of her walls tracing every inch of yours is phenomenal, the way a goddess should be built. However, her juice coats your pole, adding friction with each thrust until you are pistoning into her at full force.

Shuhua's juicy thighs jiggle and you wouldn't have missed the glorious view if it's not for the fact that you have to keep her mouth shut. Shuhua is still trying to resist. A vine or two try to strangle you from time to time but of course, that has little to no effect. The mark wouldn't allow anything else to stop you from fucking this goddess's brains out.

You release her lips for a moment to let her breathe. As soon as her lips are free, she curses again but her breath hitches as you pull out and bury your dick all the way to her cunt.

"What is it again?" You ask as you give her another forceful thrust that reaches her womb.

"I-" She begins but her words get cut off again as your cock hit her womb once again. "Fuck-"

"That's more like it" You praise her, putting her into a mating press position and pounding her hole with all your might.

Shuhua no longer threatens. You stare at her lust filled eyes, far gone with the way she's getting fucked thoroughly. Her tits bounce rapidly from the pace and you can't help but give each of those heavy melons a squeeze each. It's not everyday you get to fuck a goddess and you decide to make the most of it.

"Yes, pound my pussy..don't stop" Shuhua mutters dreamily, her mouth gaped open just like the way her pussy open up for your cock. Realizing she needs all her hole stuffed, you shoved four of your fingers into her mouth, which she eagerly licks and tastes.

"Fuck. You are such a whore. Who would have thought a goddess would be no different from a hooker, huh?" You ask and of course, she can't answer. Not with how her holes are full. But the way her eyes beg for more is enough answer.

"Slut, turn around" You order and she instantly gets into a doggy style position, putting her huge ass out for display. You spank her baby making hips a couple of time again before you thrust into her again. This time into a different hole.

"Fuck!" Shuhua's yelps in surprise as your cock make its way into her tight asshole. Her walls clench down on you hard but the makeshift lube of her pussy juice ease the pressure.

"Tell me Shuhua, have you ever done anal before?" You ask as you buck your hips to fit into more of her tighthole.

"No..no..fuck!" Shuhua curses again as your cock reaches a new depth. Her ass has swallowed most of your cock by now and its taking in inch by inch with each thrust.

"Oh, am I taking your ass virginity?" You ask as you bury your whole length into her ass, her skin rippling when your cervix meets her ass.

"Yes....god!" Shuhua screams as her ass give way to the invading object, molding to the shape of your cock. After a few more pumps, there's no longer any constriction and you are given free rein to mount her.

The cold vengeful goddess is no more. What lies beneath you is nothing but a mere sexdoll who have succumbed to her own animalistic urges. Her only purpose to be fucked through and through by your invading cock.

The power you feel is unrivaled. Sure, most of it comes from the mark of Asmodeus or whatever, but there's nothing better than to see a goddess who have try to take your life fall victim to your cock. She's not the first and she wouldn't be the last.

You pull out your cock to watch her gaping asshole, clenching on nothing as if begging for your cock to enter again. After this session, you are pretty sure she wouldn't be able to live without having something stuffed in her loose hole. For now, you fill it up with your cock once again and she moans in delight, fingers gripping the bedsheet.

As you start hammering into her ass again, the funniest thought enters your mind. Shuhua is no different from the people being tortured in the fresco above. You being the punisher and her sin being a horny whore. Maybr that's just your horny mind speaking.

In underworld terms, you continue to torment her, stretching her out even more that your cock now only feel the friction against her walls. No more tightness. No more clenches. She has been loosened up completely.

You are drowning in victory and rapture, you nearly forget the very reason you died for. You scan the room and spot a large metallic safe in one corner of the room. To your surprise, it looks just like a standard safe, the only difference being the way to open it. It has no keyhole or knob, just one black spehere embedded on the surface. Before the bliss of Shuhua's asshole can cloud your mind again, you ask her the question.

"What's the password to the safe?"

"Wha- what?" Shuhua answers through clenched teeth.

"The password to the safe, bitch" You give her a forceful thrust, tensing her body up.

"I...I can't-"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no-" She begs immediately.

"Then tell me the password"

"It's 'password'"

"Are you kidding me?" Your palm lands on her smooth skin with a loud smack.

Shuhua groans in pain, which is just another word for 'pleasure' to her. "No, I swear. The password is 'password' "

You nearly burst out laughing. It seems the goda are no different from humans when it comes to humor.

"Good girl" You praise. "Now, I'm going to reward you"

Even the mark has its limit. The rush of energy that push you to keep going is getting weaker along with your limbs. And most of all, your balls are aching for a release. You can't stall any more even if you want to.

"I'm going to fill your asshole with my cum, slut. Take it all"

"Yes, yes! Fill me up! Give me your cum!"

After a few more hard thrust, you finally unload into Shuhua's tighthole, shooting one spurt of cum after another. If goddesses can break their vocal cords, Shuhua's going to be the example soon as she moans at the feeling of her asshole being filled up to the brim. You pull out after emptying all your seeds into Shuhua. The mark has faded and the aura is gone. Your mind and body are left exhausted.

But there's no time to rest or cuddle. You have a quest to finish. Leaving the broken goddess on the bed who's still make no other sounds except pants and groans, you rush to the safe where the helmet is kept.

You are neither a burglar nor an engineer but Eros has said it's opened by a spoken password so you try the only option. 'Password' You say the password (yeah, it's cringe) to the orb in the middle. The black ball begins to grow untilit has consumed the whole safe into its surface. Then, the orb splits into four sections, revealing the helmet inside. You must admit, this is a pretty sick way to open a safe.

As soon as you grab the helmet, hundreds of footsteps like a marching army start to echo from beyond the door. After the hearing the clink of armours and weapons, you realize the guards have probably heard the screams of Shuhua.

You go around the room frantically, searching for your clothes. Luckily, Shuhua has left them in a pile on a table and you fish around your jean pockets for the vial in panic. To make things even worse, loud bangs start to reasonate from the door and the chatter of limbs and ribs. You have at least 10 seconds before the army of skeletons crash into the room.

You finally located the vial and remove the cap, pouring the yellow liquid which taste no different from water into your mouth. And that takes up the whole 10 seconds. The door breaks open and the horde of skeleton enter the room and you are still daed, standing there butt naked, holding the helm of Hades.

The guards look confused at first then charge you. You mutter a curse at Eros and before the spear of the first skeleton make contact, every molecules in your body break apart and you dissolve into nothingness.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Don't ask you how you feel. Because you don't know how to describe it. It would be same with asking someone to describe what nothing feels like. Well....it feels like nothing.

You find yourself on the bed, back in the room at Eros's skyscrapper. Naked but no longer see through and most importantly, alive. Beyond the glass, a light rain drizzles over the casins of Las Vegas. You don't really feel like testing your luck right now.

A chime rings from the bedside table and you turn to find your phone opened. Miraculously, it has no more cracks and looks as good as news. The top of your pink lockscreen (seriously, Eros?) is occupied by a single notification from the 'Ero' app. But this time it's not a quest. The message from Eros leaves you dazzled.

"Welcome back, Michael. Ever dreamed of taking a goddess's virginity?"

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(Yeah, turn out we are fucking gods)

[birthedstars]

“The Duchy”

Birth Parlors are an extremely exclusive, and extremely underground business that have begun cropping up due to this advance in technology. There were little to no limits as to what could happen here…as long as you had the money. A patron could spend millions on customization in a single night on a single labor & birth experience or even a full package Impregnation experience. The amount of money this business made was unprecedented for such a taboo.

“The Duchy” was one of the most popular and untouchable Parlors in the business. As long as there were no bodies to bury, the doors stayed open and workers stayed employed.

Millie, A petite woman with pale skin and red hair, cries out in her room. She was a newer worker here and this was her first labor and birth. Her large belly quivers as her patron raises the intensity of the orgasm function on his remote.

"Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" She said as she felt the pressure build in the base of her belly.

The man stroked his cock at the sight of the woman riding a dildo. "Yeah, pop for me, cmon!"

He specifically ordered to see an orgasmic labor and popping. That much Millie knew. Afterwards, a quick birth that he'd paid extra for Millie not to know about. Her entire body shook as she came and her waters burst around the thick dildo. She grasped her bump as it contracted hard.

“I-is there anything else you need sir?” Millie asked.

“Nah, part two is already starting,” the man groaned as he rubbed his cock.

Millie was about to ask what he meant, but a severe contraction took hold of her body. Her baby shot through her cervix as fast as lightning. Millie cried out and desperately hopped off the dildo, falling onto the room's couch. Instinctively, the young mother began pushing down on her unexpectedly fast coming baby.

“What did you order!” Millie shrieked as the big head forced open her tight pussy. Her whole body shook as the heavy babe spread her wide to the point she'd feel like she was going to tear.

Her pussy lips were drawn tightly around the head. The man smiled and jerked his cock as her labia strained to stay together. This is exactly what he'd paid millions for.

Kelcie, a more experienced birther next door, was groaning under the strain of labor and the need to cum.

Her body wasn't her own at this moment. It was this woman's, who rubbed her tits and throbbing clit endlessly.

“Let me give birth already,” Kelcie moaned softly. Her birth had been stalled at full crown for nearly an hour. Her affluent patron had her strapped up in a harness, legs spread and arms overhead for at least double that.

The woman caressed Kelcie's bump and tits hungrily with one hand and her fingers twisting Kelcies clit with the other.

“We still have so much time left, I want to savor you more,” the woman whispered.

Kelcie just let her head roll back and bear the brunt of the pain burning her pussy. Fluid squirted onto the ground around the big head. This wasn't the first time she had a birth stall, but god did she wish they'd turn off the pressure and pain sensitivity because it was maddening to push with no progress.

In a few rooms over, a group of white collar business men were hazing their new underling.

“We do this with all of the newbies, just gotta pump her full and enjoy the show,” one of the older guys said.

The young man stepped toward Zora, with his cock tenting through the zipper of his pants. Tense, he slowly thrusted his dick into Zora. His face scrunched as he felt her tight canal around him.

Zora trembled as the young man thrusted into her. It had to have been his first time with how hard he was trying not to cum within his first few thrusts. But it was no use, he came in huge, clearly pent up bursts of cum.

Zora had been pregnant before working at “The Duchy”, but she’d never experienced what was about to happen as the young man's seed took.

Her stomach bubbled, then began to swell. Swiftly and suddenly she felt her flat stomach rapidly grow from a pouch just below the navel to a giant round belly with a poked out belly button.

Zora's nails dug into the bed as the weight crashed onto her barely prepared body that still leaked cum. She gasped as her tits strained and leaked against her lingerie. Her legs flared out as the babe dropped into her pelvis. She groaned as her bump subtly twinged and movement fluttered beneath her palm.

Then, she felt a familiar pressure in the base of her taut stomach. Her stomach seized against her and then her waters burst onto the linen. Before she could process it, a huge head drove through her cervix.

“Too fast, too fast!” Zora shrieked.

As she cried out in pain, pushing on her rapidly grown baby, the salarymen jacked their dicks off at the sight of her. She pulled her legs back as the young man's baby quickly spread her pussy to a full crown. The burn encompassed her entire lower half.

Her back arched, poking her huge belly in the air. Zora shrieked as the huge babe popped out of her pussy in a rush of fluid. She fell into a heap on the bed, panting. The afterbirth didn't even have a chance to come out before the men started laughing and chatting again.The men then pushed another newbie forward.

In the basement, a large scale birth show was occurring. Dozens of patrons filled the seats, cheering and hollering as their entertainment spread their pussy wide for them.

Alex grasped their hands around the pole with a fully crowned head between their legs. Their low hanging belly, still full with three more babies, swayed stiffly as they bore down and sensually rotated their hips. They moaned in a showy manner despite their body dripping with sweat.

The patrons whistled as the quadruplet carrier slid up and down the pole. They pleasured themselves as fluid squirted around the shoulders and Alex moaned over the crowds clamoring. Their belly twisted and released in repetition until their first baby fell out of them, onto the cushioned floor of the stage.

The crowd shouted in celebration.

Alex's hand shot straight to their bump as one of the The Duchy employees gathered the child. The second baby was ready to make its rapid descent.

“Oh god, the second baby is comiiing!” Alex moaned into their mic. They slid down the pole and got onto their hands and knees. Their huge belly grazed the ground as they shook their ass. Soon after their waters burst for the second time in the night, making the crowd go wild.

Riley, “The Duchy"s owner watched from the box booth above the amphitheater as she rubbed her own swelling twin belly. She could hardly bear watching her beautiful workers have all of the fun. This was how she made her money and she wouldn't have it any other way.

But, she definitely needed to add some more new hands to the roster. People were becoming insatiable for new content. Time for a recruitment rally.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The girl with the pearl necklace (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving) Talks of race, colorism, racism, and self-esteem issues.

A/N: This has to be my most personal fic. It might not be as universal because it is part of my personal experience with race as a mixed person living in what is essentially a mixed region. I hope I do not get a bad response, but I will remind you what the title of my blog says.

“YOUR HAIR IS ugly.” The girl says, displeased. She is trying to comb through your hair with some coconut oil, but instead of curling prettily, your hair just falls flat. She has been at it for at least half an hour, her tugs to your hair getting increasingly more painful.

This time, you cannot hide the flinch. Pain, you had excused with being her first day. Making a mess, with her being unused to your hair. But calling you ugly? She was but a serving girl, she had no right.

The girl looks horrified at what she has just said. She is barely fourteen. But yet again, you are too. You have never called anyone ugly to their faces. You keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.

“She is young, milady.” The older maid, the one that is supposed to supervise her, says. She smooths your hair back, trying to fix it. Her touch gets more and more desperate the more she tries. Your hair will simply not obey. The younger one has put so much product on your hair, it looks greasy and unwashed.

You stare at your features in the mirror. The lighter skin, the shock of unruly hair, not quite a wave, not quite a coil, but rather something in the middle. Bad hair, your previous maids called it. You wonder why you bothered trying with maids again.

It is your cousin’s wedding. A lovely young woman, with beautiful dark hair that you bet never reacts this way.

“I am sorry, milady.” The younger maid offers.

Your eyes are still fixated on your mirror. You wonder if your mother ever has these troubles too. With her sleek hair, and foreign features, you doubt anyone dares call her ugly. She may not have a title, as you do, but she was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Lys.

But you. Oh, you. With your too wide nose, but too upturned to be a dornish one. With your high cheekbones in a short face. With dark eyelashes, purple eyes, and hair that is not quite right.

It screams outsider. It screams, not here, not there. Not a famed beauty in Lys, not quite the Sword of the Morning.

“Get out.” You say, to the serving girl. “Get out, both of you.”

You need to wash your hair three times for all the product to come out. You are late to the wedding.

The serving girl is relocated to the kitchens, where no one needs to talk to her. The older one is sent to tend to your father. You pass her sometimes, in the hallways of Starfall, and wonder if she is thinking your hair is ugly too.

You wonder the same thing on the day your fate changes. You are getting dressed when you see her, an ill omen in the middle of Starfall. Prince Qoren has summoned all the unwed noble ladies of Dorne to Sunspear, wishing to announce something. You think it can’t be anything good, considering he has refused to use a royal proclamation to do so.

The travel to Sunspear is taxing. You travel to the capital accompanied by your mother, a day before the actual meeting is set to take place. It allows the two of you to spend the night in a manse before having to meet the royal family.

She doesn’t know how to fix your hair. Your mother’s hair is pale silver, easy to manage and twist in the ways women up north prefer. She had tried hard to tame yours as a child, spraying it with water and stretching the curls with a brush so it laid flat. It never seemed to work as it did in hers.

You pin your hair up, a clip made of pearls and amethysts keeping it up. You do not have the same texture most women here have, that ensures gorgeous volume, so you play to your strengths, showcasing the deep color you have and using it as a backdrop for gorgeous accessories.

Your dress is chosen with great care. A deep lavender, with a tasteful cleavage, held at your shoulders by twin brooches of falling stars. Not even hearing your mother say you look beautiful eases your anxiety. You had seen her, the servant. She only appeared in your life when something was about to happen.

You are not the superstitious kind, but when you stand in a line in front of Prince Qoren’s throne with all the noble maidens of Dorne, you know you were right. That woman was a bad omen.

Prince Qoren smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am glad all of you chose to accept my invitation.” He stands. All the women in the room drop into a curtsy. “When I look at you, I see the best this Kingdom has to offer. It makes me proud. And it makes me confident enough to know I can ask this of you.”

You tense. Whatever he is going to ask is something bad, you can already tell. Some of the more clueless girls in the room look flattered by the delicate compliment, but it is a tactic you know well. You have been mocked enough to know that when someone compliments you so elaborately, a but usually follows. And it tends to be devastating.

His kind demeanor isn’t fooling you. Not in the least.

“We have never coddled our women, as the other Kingdoms do. War is coming for us, and we need strong allies. The Iron Throne offers us their support, but as always, it comes with a price.”

War. Of course it comes down to it. You have heard your parents whispering about it when they think you cannot hear. How Prince Qoren is thinking of sending his troops, instead of his money. How he expects your brother or father to lead them, sometimes against the Triarchy, sometimes against the Iron Throne.

It seems he has made his choice. Against the Triarchy. Your heart is seized by the sudden terror of the thought of your father going to war and not coming home. His sword, Prince Qoren called him.

Your house has been Dorne’s sword for decades. Ever since the first Dayne picked up their sword from the heart of a flaming star, you have defended the Kingdom against their enemies. Your very home once burned because of it.

Amongst the tales of flaming swords and fallen stars, you had never thought war would touch your home. Your brother was the current wielder of Dawn. Your father the head of your house. They would have to fight.

“A marriage pact. From a daughter of Dorne, to a Targaryen Prince. To bind our kingdoms, to ensure peace in this new alliance we embark. Dorne must remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken. House Martell has no daughters of their own to offer, so we ask one of you to go on our stead. It’s us who will pay your dowry, and you shall always have a home here.”

His words barely register as you brood about the upcoming war. You have heard of the Crabfeeder, and his brutality. You think of your kind, kind brother, and his sweet smile. He is a few years younger than you, untested in battle yet.

Some girls cheer. You look at your mother and notice she has the same stricken look you must be sporting. Some of the other parents talk animatedly between themselves, calculating the potential such a match offers their daughters. None seem to realize what it means.

War. War will come for Dorne, and the situation might turn out so bad, proud Prince Qoren will need the dragons’ help. The once unbowed man is being made to bow so low his forehead is touching the floor.

Prince Qoren raises a hand, quieting the hall.

“I am not asking for volunteers. I simply wished to gaze upon you myself, and decide who will marry Daemon Targaryen.”

Mumbles start again, some girls sounding disgruntled. Others preen and titter, trying to attract the Prince’s gaze. You keep your eyes firmly trained on the wall in front of you.

You would rather not marry this Daemon Targaryen. The politics in the other kingdoms are not your forte, but you have a vague notion of him being the brother to the current King. He must have a dragon, of course. And you think he is the one who has been in the conflict at the Stepstones, so he must be some sort of warrior.

No matter how much of a catch he might be, you wish to stay. If war is truly coming, you cannot bear to think of being separated from your family. Your mother will need you, when your father and brother are called away. And you don’t imagine yourself in a foreign land, waiting for news about them on your own.

Prince Qoren makes his way down the line of maidens. You barely spare him a glance, your mind thousands of miles away. But he pauses in front of you, looking at the shooting stars in your shoulders, the deep lavender of your dress.

“I hear Daemon Targaryen likes his women fair.” He comments. “And you are the fairest of us all.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. It takes all of your willpower not to fidget under his gaze. You give him an awkward smile.

Prince Qoren reaches to touch the brooch. His hands are elegant, fingers long and lean. He is about your mother’s age, and wears it just as well.

“Lady Dayne, is it?”

“Yes, my Prince.” You say, meeting his eyes. You may not be a classic dornish beauty, but you were still raised by the most charming woman in Lys. There are hardly any other women with manners as refined as yours, and you know all about the games men in power enjoy playing.

You cannot fawn over him. You cannot show him weakness. Because if you do, you will be common in his eyes, unespecial. It is not about beauty. It never is. That thought has given you great comfort during the years.

“How fitting. My dearest sword will be the one to defend her kingdom.”

Your hands begin to sweat. His choice is predictable. It is the same thing you had been thinking about your father and brother, House Dayne is the sword of Dorne. And swords, even more feminine ones, are only useful when war comes.

It doesn’t make it easier, that you should have expected it. It only makes your chest hurt. You do not dare look at your mother.

Instead, you drop into a curtsy and look at Qoren Martell as if he has made you the happiest woman in the world.

“I will be honored, my Prince.”

He smiles.

“Please, call me Qoren. We are to be family now.”

You look at your mother, insides turning to ice. You wonder how long until he takes you away from her.

In the end, it only takes a month. Qoren had been eager to depart and fix the realm’s issues. You now know plenty about the war in the Stepstones. Apparently, your future husband had secured the victory, giving the killing blow to the leader of the opposing army. But while won, the threat to your Kingdom remains. The Triarchy shall always reform, and not even the death of the Crabfeeder can stop them. Like one of those awful serpents from myth, you cut off its head and two more appear.

Pulling your support as the Triarchy was losing had been a bad move. They blamed Dorne for their defeat, and the Iron Throne thought the dornish were cowardly, only making their choice when it was clear who would lose. To avoid petty revenges and more bloodshed, Dorne needed new allies. And you needed them fast.

“We negotiated a new title for you.” Qoren tells you, as the carriage takes you from the docks and towards the Red Keep. “When you marry, you will become a Princess too, instead of remaining a Lady.”

“That sounds exciting.” You give him a bright smile. It's a very genuine one. Hearing yourself announced in such a manner would please you. “It will be strange, of course, changing it.”

“Nonsense.” Qoren laughs. “Only the best for my daughter.”

You falter, and decide to peer out of the window to hide your expression from him. You do not want him to think you are ungrateful.

The night is awfully cold, but you barely feel it. You are dressed in a purple velvet dress, still amazed by the material. You had never worn something so expensive, or made of such a warm fabric. It has the traditional dornish cut, with a plunging cleavage, but you find the added long sleeves fascinating.

The royal family had spared no expense in preparing your trousseau. As a daughter of House Martell, only the best would do. Obviously, all in their colors. This purple velvet gown was one of the few purple items you had been allowed to bring. It saddened you, having to forsake the color. You had always felt pretty in purple, since it matched your eyes.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about everything. Being sent to protect your kingdom and, by extension, your family from war was a great thing. But you were also being asked to leave your identity behind.

Never having left Dorne before, the journey had excited you, but also made you feel acutely lonely. And the thought of having to let behind your family, your colors, and even your name, only served to make you feel worse.

Your father would not be the one giving you away during your wedding, nor would your maiden cloak be the one of House Dayne. Instead, you would wear the sun and spear of House Martell.

But at this moment, as Qoren gets out of the carriage and extends you a hand, you are a Dayne. The purple dress acts a beacon, attracting the gaze of every servant in the vicinity. You stand tall, a star pendant hanging between your breasts.

You will enter decked on your colors. You will greet your future husband as you are, dressed in royal purple. Be a Dayne one last time, before war takes even that from you.

You breathe in and out, the polluted night sky so different from the beautiful stars in Dorne. This is it, you think, a chance to start over. To be whoever you wish to be. These people do not know what a dornishwoman should look like, or how she should behave. They do not know your hair is odd, and so are your eyes. They will only know what you want them to know.

“Go change, my sword. Your maids have selected a dress.” Qoren places his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the Red Keep. Your smile falls. For a second, you had thought you could attend the feast as you were, draped in your familiar purple and silver. “Make us all proud.”

You should have known better. But it is no matter now. A new life awaits you. Not even Qoren can sour your mood. You square your shoulders and smile.

So focused you are on your inner motivational speech, you do not notice the man watching you, his features covered by a black hood.

The day of your marriage, Daemon presents you with a beautiful pearl necklace. It is made of the purest pearls, with the biggest one you have ever seen right in the middle. It is bigger than the fingertip of your thumb, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a gold dragon.

“My cousin helped me commission this.” He says, during the wedding feast. He presents it to you in a small box, insides lined with velvet. As you reach for it, Daemon closes it, nearly catching your fingers with it. You laugh, startled. He grins at you. “Ah, I want to help you put it on.”

Your fingers fiddle with the simple silver chain you wear, star pendant hanging between your breasts. The hesitation must show on your face because Qoren, at your side, answers for you.

“She is honored, I am sure. Such a gorgeous jewel, to sit in the neck of the greatest beauty Dorne has to offer.”

You smile, trying not to let the sudden flare up of bad memories the words bring you. You remember a young girl, calling your hair ugly. Your grandmother’s face, sneering as you passed her in the hallways. Half-breed, she says, after having too much wine. Not quite right.

The subtle, more hidden, cruelties of girlhood that made your heart ache. When you did not make the list of the most beautiful girls some page was making. How much of a late bloomer you were, by dornish standards. How you had to wait so long for your first kiss, when it seemed like all the other girls were having them already.

Will this be all your life will ever be? Looking for the poison dripping from each word? Doubting every compliment?

You give Daemon what you hope is a seductive look, from beneath dark lashes. You are not good at seduction, having been an observer most of your life. But you are good at pretending.

It has worked, so far. Your arrival, on Qoren’s arm and with an honor guard fit for a Queen, had made people look at you differently. Men, specially, look at you as something exotic. They whisper about your Lyseni mother, and the tricks you must know how to perform. It fills you with dread because once again your looks set you apart, and you don’t quite feel like a person. You had hoped things would be different here.

And they are. Their attention is different, but it’s still wrong and you don’t quite believe them. They only want you because of the novelty, because of rumors about dornishwomen, about how your mother trapped your father. Not because you are beautiful or desirable. It’s sickening.

“Come, husband. Take my necklace off.” And Daemon obeys you, coming to stand behind you. Before he can begin to fumble with your hair, you reach for your hair on your own and lift it to expose your nape. You twist it into a pretend up do, holding it up with your hand.

The gesture is as languid as you can make it, highlighting the curve of your arm, and the elegance of your movements. The cold air hits your neck, making the hairs there stand up.

You both feel and hear Daemon’s sigh. He blows a soft puff of air against your hair, the noise very loud in the small table that seats only Qoren, Daemon, and you. The Queen has already retired, her sickly husband in tow. The Princess and her husband are dancing merrily between the tables.

When you had met Daemon, your first impression of him had been that he was very Valyrian looking and surprisingly whole for someone fresh out of war. And then, he had looked at Princess Rhaenyra and you had understood what Qoren meant when he said he liked his women fair.

Your stomach had turned, back then. Valyrian indeed. Rhaenyra was all milk white skin, light lashes and soft features. You couldn’t compete, you had thought. But then, you had noticed how his eyes followed little Laena Velaryon and you had known there was a chance for you to succeed too. It wasn’t skin color, but Valyrian heritage.

You have been trying to seduce him, with various degrees of success. The attention men pay you is helping you, and so are your purple eyes. You hope tonight goes well. You think you have just about enough Lyseni blood in you to keep him hooked.

His hands gently unclasp your pendant. He pockets it, you think. A memento or because he intends to give it back to you? You feel as his fingers whisper against your collarbones, and this time it’s you who sighs.

You are dramatic about it. Your lips part, as if about to be kissed. Your head tilts back.

“Beautiful.” Daemon whispers, in your ear. He kisses the shell of it.

“It is a gorgeous necklace.” You reply, feeling your face heating up. You feel drunk already, and you have not drank a single goblet of wine yet.

“No. You.” And the kiss against your ear becomes open-mouthed, his heavy breath filling your hearing. His hips brush against the backrest of the chair, searching for closeness. This is something that cannot be faked, you think. Not this kind of desire.

He wants you. He wants you, and you only wish to close your eyes and let him take you right here at this table. You are no blushing maiden, for sure, but you still are new to intimacy. Too many hang-ups about your body and not quite pleasing attempts have not contributed to building a vast knowledge of it. The fact that he wants you so badly makes you wild.

“I think that is my cue.” Qoren says, breaking you out of your stupor. He drains his cup, clearly in preparation for leaving. You had never felt such a connection with someone, not even in Dorne, where pleasure was loud and open. You press your hands to your face, ashamed of having forgotten he was there. Daemon simply chuckles.

“You don’t have…”

“Dearest sword.” He says, as he plants a kiss to your forehead. “You are as tempting as your husband is selfish. He doesn’t seem in the mood to share you.”

“I am not.” Daemon agrees, squeezing your shoulder. He exchanges a look with Qoren over your head. You can only see Qoren’s answering smirk.

“I think I should call for the mummers early.”

You and Daemon slip away as a company of puppet masters from Dorne make their grand entrance, throwing colorful powders in the air.

Later that night, as he sleeps in your shared rooms, you slip on a robe and stand in front of the mirror. Daemon has a massive one, right at the foot of the bed. Mirrors have always scared you, and sleeping so comfortably as he does with one reflecting him is unfathomable. You only intend to cover it.

Mirrors are supposed to be portals to other worlds, your mother used to say. The thought is stuck in your head, so you have grabbed a linen and are ready to place it over it when something catches your attention.

Your reflection. She is glowing, barefoot and in a simple robe, but still wearing the necklace your husband has given you. It should look gauche. It should look too much. But somehow, the necklace looks just right in your neck. You remember Daemon’s eyes, filled with desire when you had bared your neck to him. The sensual way he had touched you tonight, cradling you in his arms, rolling around in his bed. The necklace on the nightstand.

You look at the way the pearls light up your face. For the first time, you feel beautiful.

You make your first mistake a few days after.

It’s the first day of the week, and the Queen has asked you to have tea with her. You go, happily. After Qoren’s and the guards left, you began to feel lonely. There is not much to do here, either. Most of your usual entertainments are considered too sinful or crass. You can not even go for a walk around the city because they deem it too dangerous.

The meeting with the Queen is sour. She is trying, you can tell, but you still hear the disdain in her voice when she talks about your customs, or your people. She eyes the necklace you wear with distaste.

You get the feeling she buys the tales about you. That you are some dornish beauty, exotic and trained in the arts of seducing men. She comments on your mother, on her luck for marrying up, and you have to remember yourself to bite your tongue.

From what Daemon tells you, she is very lucky herself. Going from Lady to Queen is almost as impressive as going from merchant’s daughter to Lady, and you know which one of them did not need to spread her legs for it, and it’s not her. Not if you judge by her plain face.

You look at her, scandalized and pious as she is, ranting about acceptance of bastards of all things, and you surprise yourself at your own cruelty. You should not have thought that. But you are just so angry…

You take a deep breath and look away, trying to calm down. It is then you notice. In the door of the solar, standing to attention, is a man who looks like you.

He has inky dark hair, and olive skin. His eyes are dark, and he has a light stubble, probably because when you have hair as dark as he does, it is difficult to hide body hair. He wears armor and a white cloak. Kingsguard, you think. Why hasn’t anyone told you there was someone else from Dorne here, too? How could you not know?

Queen Alicent follows your eyes, suddenly noticing you are not paying attention. Your eyes are glued to the knight. She frowns in disapproval.

“That’s Ser Criston Cole. My sworn shield.” She stresses the word my. You grab your teacup and take a sip, to hide your smile. Is the pious Queen in love with her knight? “And a member of the Kingsguard.”

She is reminding you of his vow of celibacy. You almost laugh. If she wasn’t so repressed, she would realize she is the one who wants to jump his bones. The only interest you have in him is the fact that he might become a friend.

“Do your guards always stand inside your rooms?” You ask her, doing your best to sound puzzled. “The King’s guards stand outside his, and so does the sworn shield of the Princess.”

“…” Queen Alicent blushes, and averts her gaze. There are no further invitations to have tea with her.

You spend a lot of time staring at Ser Criston. He never returns your gaze. You seek him at mealtimes, you greet him in the corridors, but he always manages to evade you before you can properly start a conversation.

Daemon notices. He always does. He is finely attuned to you, his perfect wife. His prize after the war, his star. A study in contradictions, brazen and bold one moment, shy the next. He seems to like you even more for it. What he doesn’t seem to like is your sudden fixation on Criston Cole.

“You should stay away from him, star.” Daemon whispers, when he catches you staring at him once more. His voice sounds irritated. Accusing. As if you have done something wrong. It makes you bristle immediately.

“I am doing nothing wrong.”

“No one said you are. But Cole is….” Daemon shakes his head. “It is unwise. That’s all I mean to say.”

“What is unwise?” You scowl. You are glad that the table is long enough that no one else overhears you. Knowing Daemon, things are about to get nasty. He will throw in so many insults, Ser Criston would beat him into a pulp if he heard. No matter how competent your husband is, you still worry. “Trying to talk to him?”

“He is a cunt.” He says, cutting your meat for you as if you were a child. From your place in the dais, you seek him once more. Ser Criston is standing on the entrance of the hall, watching carefully as his Queen dines with the King and the two of you.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks towards you. Then, he quickly averts his eyes.

“I merely wish to speak with him.” You say. “He is like me. Dornish.”

“Ser Crispin will only disappoint you. Both in personality and in prowess.” Daemon warns. He pushes his goblet closer to you. “Here, try this. Arbor gold. How does it compare to the swill you like to drink?”

You take a sip of his goblet. You scrunch up your nose, The wine is cloyingly sweet, lacking the strong notes Dornish Reds always have.

“Ugh.” Your lips pucker up in disgust. Daemon laughs, and steals a kiss from you, licking into your mouth for good measure. But before you can begin to properly enjoy it, Queen Alicent coughs. You push Daemon away, even though you are doing nothing scandalous. “You taste like it too.”

“And you taste of that swill you dornish call wine. Yet, I am not complaining.” He takes a sip of his goblet.

“Are you jealous of him?” You ask, suddenly. You have heard about the rivalry between the two of them. Everyone knew of how Cole had obtained his position. He had been a simple knight, until Daemon had lost to him during a tourney. The act had caught Princess Rhaenyra’s attention, and secured him a white cloak. “Ser Criston?”

The thought of Daemon thinking you want to invite Cole to your bed is enough to amuse you. While in Dorne, paramours are more common than here, you are finding monogamy pleasant. You had never been much for sex without love, after all. Only one taste had been enough to satiate your curiosity.

“You shouldn’t toy with fire.” He growls, perhaps confusing your amusement with a deliberate attempt to tease him. It only makes your smile widen.

“Did you know…?” You begin, with an airy tone. Daemon sets down his cutlery. He turns to look at you, licking his lips. “My ancestor, Ser Joffrey Dayne, crossed paths with Queen Visenya. She burned Starfall, after he attacked Oldtown.”

“House Targaryen has always defended the Highcunts, it seems.” Daemon’s brows furrow together. It is no surprise he knows about it. One of the things that have bonded the two of you together is the fact that both of you are obsessed with family history. What he doesn’t know is why you are referencing it now.

You smile. One of your hands goes to toy with the necklace he has given you and that has become your constant accessory, bringing attention to your neck. It is a deliberate move. You intend to be ravished tonight

“I do not fear fire. We Daynes got Dawn from the heart of a falling star. “

Daemon kisses your temple.

“Oh? And I cannot wait to see you burn.” And he is pulling you to your feet, and you are slipping outside with a hurried curtsy.

Despite Daemon’s warnings, you still decide to approach Criston Cole. It takes you almost a week to build up the courage to do it, and another more to mention it to Daemon.

You do not want him to feel blindsided, so you include him in your planning. It is only when he shows up at the Sept that you realize Daemon intends to go with you.

Even the Septon pauses when he sees the two of you enter the Sept. Considering the court thinks you a temptress, and him a rogue, you are not surprised.

You are not particularly pious. While you had been educated on the Faith of the Seven, Dorne practiced a much diluted version. You had not attended a service in quite some time, but you try to focus on it to keep your nervousness at bay.

The plan is to intercept Ser Criston when the service ends. Daemon is under strict instruction to remain sitting, as to not unnerve the other man. But of course, things do not go according to plan.

As soon as the Septon gives his last blessing, you sprung up and step closer to the knight.

“Ser Criston, a word?” You ask him, your voice soft and nonthreatening. It is not as if you want to impose your presence on him, but you are unsure of why he flees rooms when he sees you. Perhaps he is shy, or perhaps you have offended him, but you will never know if he doesn’t speak to you.

“Do not talk to me!” He snarls, getting up from the bench. You try to reach for his arm, but Cole is quicker than you, grabbing your wrist tightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Daemon getting up from the bench where he was waiting for you.

“Ser… I only wished you to invite you to have tea with me.”

“I will not get into your bed, Lady Targaryen.” The man snarls at you. “Perhaps it is allowed in Dorne, but I assure you, here we do things differently than your people. Propositioning a man is…”

“I am not propositioning you!” You say, hotly. The words he is spewing at you leave you bewildered. You have never heard another dornishman speak so. “What do you even mean by that? Your people! You are dornish too.”

“I am not.” But before he can give you an explanation, Daemon is stepping in, and unsheathing his sword. He places his body between Ser Criston and you.

“I would suggest you unhand my wife.” His voice is cold. “Or you will lose the hand.”

“And you! You support her… Her… She should be sent back to Dorne, but she doesn’t even belong there, does she?” And Ser Criston stomps off, clearly unwilling to engage Daemon in what would probably end up as a fight to death.

Daemon looks willing to go after him, but you make a pitiful noise that is a cross between a sob and a whine. The rejection hurt more than usual, having grown unused to cruelness during your stay on King’s Landing. And the remark about you not belonging in Dorne?

It stung. You had not heard that insult in ages. It made you think of the serving girl, and your grandmother muttering you had bad hair, of your odd little features and strange coloring. Not quite Andal, not quite Rhoynar, not quite Lyseni.

Ser Criston looked like you. Of everyone, you would have expected him to understand. To see you.

You had only wanted a reminder of home. Careful with what you wish for, indeed. Your eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Oh, that cunt. I’ll cut off his dick and feed him to Caraxes…” Daemon mutters, a thunderous look in his purple eyes. He then presses his forehead to yours, giving you an impish grin. “Not that it would be much food, would it? Like a worm, I bet.”

It makes you laugh, despite yourself.

“There you are.” Daemon smiles, brushing your tears away. “Come. I need you to see something.”

He takes your hand and leads you towards your shared rooms. You frown, slightly. Does he have some sort of present to give you? It’s unusual to be going there so early in the morning.

When Daemon opens the door, a maid is still sweeping the room. He barely spares her a glance, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The girl looks disgruntled. You offer her a silver dragon for her troubles as she leaves, noticeably cheering her up.

The bed is freshly made, and the room smells of lavender. Outside the windows, the birds chirp. You see nothing unusual.

“What was I supposed to see? You interrupting the maid? Poor girl.” You mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Do try to make her life easier.”

But he doesn’t answer, choosing instead to pull out the chair in your vanity. It is a rarity, the whole set a gift from Qoren to furnish your new rooms. It has a beautiful mirror attached that reflects you from the waist up when you sit in front of it.

“Come.” Daemon says, simply. So you do. You know better by now than to disagree with him when he is in one of his moods.

You sit in the chair, dutifully. Your reflection looks a fright, so you try to avoid looking at yourself too much. He stands behind you, hands caressing your shoulders lighty, prompting you to look up.

“I have noticed.” Daemon starts, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “That you are always self-conscious when I look at you for too long. Or when I take your clothes off.”

You avert your eyes. It is true. You feel strange when Daemon looks at your body. The awe he holds in his gaze is both exciting and humbling. You never feel worthy of such worship.

“I would say we are past the maiden’s modesty.” He chuckles. “We made sure of that, didn’t we?”

“I…”

Daemon begins to unlace your gown. The presence of the mirror is making you self-conscious, so you reach for your bodice, and hold it up with one hand.

He pauses. He studies your expression, before dropping a kiss to your curls.

“Don’t cover yourself, wife. I love looking at you.”

You take a deep breath. You want to tell him the truth, for once. Daemon has started to suspect that despite how much you enjoy intercourse with him, something is wrong with your self-esteem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have staged this intervention.

“I just don’t like how I look much.” You keep your voice low. Shame begins to freeze you up, making you tense and unable to speak. Your heart beats loudly in your ears.

“Madness.” Daemon laughs. He kisses you, slow and sweet. His lips move tenderly against yours, coaxing you out of your shell. You wonder how such an impatient man can have such infinite patience when it comes to you.

The thought makes you melt. Daemon smiles against your mouth and pulls back. He comes back to standing behind you.

“Look.” He orders. And you, helpless under his spell, cannot disobey.

You look at your reflection. Your hair is in even more disarray than before. Your lips are red and kiss swollen. And your eyes… You look dazed.

“We are just getting started.” Daemon promises, his hand coming to caress your collarbones. This time, when he pulls down the bodice, you do not fight it.

He kisses your head.

“You asked me once, if I was jealous.” You turn towards him, confused at the sudden change of topic. Daemon shushes you, squeezing the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving pup. You look at yourself again, knowing there is no point in disobeying. Daemon always gets his way.

“I am jealous.” His voice is firm. He leans in, and kisses the top of your hair. His talented, skilled hands, take the pins off from it, so it frames your face once more. You fight the urge to fix it, to give more volume to your roots. You don’t like how limp it falls sometimes. Daemon presses a kiss to your earlobe, and whispers. “Of the very breeze against your hair.

Your eyes widen. You do not dare take them away from the mirror. On it, you watch as he presses a kiss behind your ear, as he mouths at your neck, just barely reaching the necklace that sits there.

“Of the pearls you wear, for holding on to your neck. “ You feel his words against your skin, making you shiver. He wraps it around one of his fingers, the pearls tensing just so to feel more restrictive against your neck.

Your lips part in a sigh. The tension of the pearls makes you think of a collar, and his deft handling of them a leash. Ownership.

“Sometimes, when I see you around court, I imagine this.” He tugs the pearls upwards, placing them between your lips. You watch, in a daze, as your reflection parts her lips more, welcoming him in.

He places the biggest pearl between your teeth. You find yourself mesmerized by this stranger you are watching, being turned into an artwork in front of your very eyes.

“You are exquisite.” Daemon gives the pearls a tug, pulling them slightly up. They catch on your hair, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls. There is something haunting about the image, something that tugs at you and makes you see yourself from his eyes.

Like this, with him calling you exquisite, pearls adorning your face and hair, you can almost believe it.

“Do you know what I think of more, when I see these pearls?” Daemon chuckles. It’s a dark, masculine sound. You are unable to form a word. “Hm. Perhaps I should show you.”

He finishes pulling the necklace from you. Over your head and out they go. Suddenly able to speak, you find yourself at a loss for words.

Daemon kneels behind you. He meets your eyes in the mirror, again.

“I am jealous of the moon, and the sky, and this damn mirror even.” It sounds like nonsense. It should sound like nonsense, but somehow, it is disarming, this newfound honesty of his. The one where he stumbles over words in his eagerness, in his need to call you beautiful, to call you his. “Because you want to gaze at them. Your eyes should be only for me.”

He cradles your face in his palm, forcing you to keep eye contact with your reflection. His thumb brushes over your lips. You just stare.

“And even of the wine you drink, when you wet your lips.”

You kiss his thumb. Your eyes sting. This is quickly turning unbearable.

“Daemon… Please…”

“Oh, but your eyes.” He praises, sounding almost drunk. He begins to kiss a path down your collarbones and towards your breasts. “I love your eyes. They are maddening to me.”

He continues to kiss your skin, inhaling deeply. The closer he gets to your breasts, the hungrier he becomes. Daemon is gorging himself on you, biting and nipping at your bosom, sucking at your nipples until you cannot help the moans coming out from your mouth.

Liquid, molten pleasure, begins accumulating at the base of your spine. Warming up your body, making you sweat with the exertion of keeping still.

“You are so beautiful, I fear anyone will want to steal you away.” Daemon whispers, grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. “And I fear if I don’t hold tight, it will be my fault.”

You look at yourself. At the half lidded eyes, the softness of your chest. At the attitude of surrender, as your thighs part, and you feel him bury his nose on the roses of your mound. As he inhales, trying to memorize your touch, your smell, your sounds. As he decides to drink from you, making your face go slack, brows pinched together, eyes glassy and absent.

Beautiful, you think, as you reach your peak with a scream so loud you fear the rest of the Red Keep might have heard.

Daemon laughs, doing his best attempt to suck a bruise on your thigh.

“And you haven’t even seen what I plan on doing with the pearls.”

[luveline]

KBDDDDD AHHHHHHHHH

—Steve takes the lead when your baby makes a mess. mom!reader, 1.5k

Your hands are soft. Steve holds both of them in one of his, not quite big enough for a comfortable fit, but it’s alright. Your pinky finger rests against his knee. Doesn’t fit in his hand, but it doesn’t matter.

Steve loves you because you’re you. And so many things make you who you are, he couldn’t boil them down into just one thing. Maybe it’s your brightness he loves most, how you lean down next to him and smile into his tricep for no reason. Maybe it’s that you’ve never been cruel to him, not once. You have this capacity for love that you don’t see in yourself, but he does. You don’t expect anything from him that he can’t give.

He lets his head drop down to rest on yours.

If he’s clingy, you’re worse. You settle closer into his side with a content sigh nearly too quiet to hear. Then comes a scratching sound. His thumb, which had been employed in a soft back and forth into one of your palms, comes to a stop.

You sigh again. Less content. “Why’d you stop?” you mumble.

“Can you hear that?”

“No… What is it?”

He shakes his head, turning his face back into your head. “Nothing. Must be the wind.”

You take back one of your hands to rest on your stomach. “She’s kicking.”

“Is she? Can I feel?”

You press Steve’s hand to your bump and wait for him to feel it. He waits for another kick, not so much a vibration as a distension, the force of a movement. It’s like she’s saying hello, only he can’t feel it. You pull his hand down to the bottom of your stomach and nudge your shirt up so he’s skin to skin.

“She’s shy now you’re watching,” you say.

He turns his head in the other direction and you laugh, which makes him laugh, the volume of you both nearly not quite occluding a second heavy scratching sound from upstairs.

You stop laughing. “What is that? Is that Avery?”

Steve sighs. It had been really, really nice to sit with you and just get to appreciate you for a moment, but duty always calls. And no offence to you, but he’d much rather know Avery was safe, because what the heck is that sound?

He stands and helps you up, though he doesn’t wait for you to follow. Steve bounds up the stairs two at a time and you giggle and follow, saying something he misses about his rushing, how he’s gonna fall flat on his face. He yanks down the handle on Avery’s room and pushes open the door.

Your toddler looks up with caught eyes. “Oh.”

“Babe, what!” Steve looks around at the mess she’s made and turns around to shut the door.

“Steve, what is it?” you ask, still on the stairs.

“Baby, if you see this you’re gonna panic. It’s just a mess, and it’s going to upset you so bad. Go sit down. I’ll clean it up.”

He decides honesty will be his best strategy. Remarkably, it works. You get to the top of the stairs and turn for your room, saying, “All right. I don’t wanna see.”

Avery’s in the adorable place between baby and toddler where she has lots of her babyhood still intact, but she’s her own broad person. She can talk, and walk, and do terrible awful things. If you saw the mess you’d never agree to another baby if you weren’t already having one, it’s horrific; where she found her crayons Steve doesn’t know, but there’s scribbles over everything. The walls, the bed, the windowsill.

She frowns at him with her eyes full of tears and drops a crayon on the floor, caught red-handed.

Steve nips out of her room to the bathroom for a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag. You lay on the bed in the main bedroom with your hand over your eyes.

It takes him a long time to clean off what he can. The walls become a rainbow blend and then a dark green sludge over baby pink, but he scrubs, and Avery tries to help near his knee. Despite what he’d said about it being a potentially upsetting scene should you have seen it, mess doesn’t stress Steve out anymore. You’d only panic because you’re pregnant, not because it’s a permanent problem. You’re easily upset lately.

“Good job, baby,” he says, kissing Avery behind the ear as she wipes the rag over the wall. “Can dad have a turn now? We need to clean this mess up before you fall asleep.”

“Not sleepy,” she says, dropping into his lap with a thump.

“No? So the sleepies in your eyes are for show, huh? Mr. Sandman gave you those for no reason.” He drops the rag, wiping his hand dry on his pants, and pressing it to her back. She’s more him than you and she’s beautiful nonetheless, sulky eyes and eyebrows like his, her little mouth. She rounder in the face, and she’s got a more feminine shape to her chin, but when she wobbles on his thigh with the effort it takes to fight sleep she looks exactly like him. Her eyes flicker closed.

“Avery,” he says, nudging her close to his chest, “we’re gonna have a big talk about crayons in the morning.”

“Nigh-nigh.”

Steve breathes out a short breath. “Yeah, nigh-nigh. I love you, messy girl.”

“Love you.”

Snores. Immediate snores. Steve lets her settle for a minute and then stands, holding her to his chest as he throws her sheets further back in bed and puts her down. He tucks her in, kisses her forehead, and cleans the rest of her room in silence. It takes ages, but nobody’s upset when he’s done.

You peek from under your arm.

“I’m sorry.”

He sits by your hip. “Ooh, for what?”

“That sounded awful.”

“Yeah, it was, you should be ashamed of yourself.” He looks for something to squeeze, deciding on your shoulder. “No, it was fine. She helped, and she’s back in bed.”

“I should go give her a goodnight kiss.”

Steve brings his hand to your face. Draws a curve down your cheek. When he cups your jaw, you stay still and wait for him to talk. He has the strangest feeling, like you’d wait all night. “You can give her a goodnight kiss, just there’s still some crayon on the wall. But we’ll paint over it, okay? I promise. Nothing’s ruined.”

“Was it everywhere?”

“On the walls and her bed. A lot more came off than I expected. And can you be mad? She’s an artist. That’s artistic expression.”

“Not mad. Just worried we won’t fix it and then we’ll have the baby and it’ll never get fixed.”

“I promise,” he whispers, leaning in. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”

You don’t have to say okay or thank you. Your hand searches for his as he stays there over you, your eyes met.

“I believe you,” you say finally.

“I know, I’m just looking at you. You have a sleepy like Avery did.”

You laugh and turn out of his hand. The reason goes unsaid, Steve, you’re so romantic.

“How’s that baby?” he asks, before you can roll away.

“She’s kicking, yeah. Everytime she hears your voice.”

He stops. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. You’re talking and she’s hitting me right in the spleen.”

“You don’t even know where your spleen is,” Steve says, putting his hands together. He is not afraid or ashamed to beg. “Can I feel it, please?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He doesn’t always, of course he doesn’t. There’s love and trust in spontaneity, but there’s also trust in knowing you’ve had a long day, and you don’t enjoy being poked at like a poor animal at the petting zoo. Steve pulls your shirt up where it’d already been rising and feels along your skin gently, slowly, not needing you to tell him where she is. He presses the meat of his thumb to your tummy and waits. The bump is sturdy but surprisingly soft, too. When Beth kicks, for a split second, he feels it like she’s right there in the room.

He immediately drops his head to kiss your skin. “Hello,” he says, rubbing your stomach appreciatively.

You put your index finger by his. “Hi, baby.”

“Let’s hope you’re the well behaved one.”

You draw a short line, back and forth. “I don’t care if she's not.”

“I have a funny feeling she will be.”

“It’s wishful thinking.”

Steve grins and sits up. “It’s definitely wishful thinking.” Beth gives another kick. He can see it. “That’s sort of queasy. Are you alright?”

“Doesn’t hurt.” You rub your bump. “She’s just saying hi.”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

We talk about how mischaracterized Hobie is - which he is - but I honestly think someone else is characterized REALLY weirdly by fandom

Miguel O'Hara and Misrepresentation of His Rage: a.k.a Miguel has Ken Energy you fools

[this is a breakdown where I examine Miguel's trauma, his relationship with Miles, his role in The Society, and his personality]

I talk a lot of shit about the Hobie tag, but the over-saturation of smut in the Miguel tag is at critical mass.

And like Latino-fetishization aside, I feel like he's not written as a human.

He's written so flat.

I swear ya'll be writing him as the angriest, coldest, most anti-social man on earth. Ya'll be having him rude and avoidant with no friends whatsoever or a romantic soft latin lover and NO IN BETWEEN

which is so funny cause like... I feel like Miguel is Just A Guy

I know they're easy to overlook but I think about moments like these all the time

But I ALWAYS see him written him as friendless, and cold, or constantly irritated and angry but like - I feel like most of the time Miguel is just some dude. Like in a Good Way.

And he's fine with that.

Miguel runs a Society Full of Spider-people, and they're working for him voluntarily. Peter Parkers wouldn't work for someone they didn't think was genuinely, good-likeable, and level-headed.

He compliments Lego-Spider-Man. When Hobie was there he wasn't pissed he was just like 'not in the mood rn ngl'

and Hobie didn't take the piss outta him - because I feel like him and Hobie have a mutal understanding/relaxed relationship. All throughout the movie Hobie isn't talking bad about Miguel in specific - he never says anything about Miguel being annoying or evil - he's always taking about The Society Miguel has made.

Even Hobie - who will openly talk bad about the PM, doesn't really feel the need to diss Miguel's character in specific. Which I find very interesting.

I think this, along with a couple other things shows that the way we view Miguel in fandom is not really how he is, like..when he's not going buckwild insane.

Miguel and His Role as Canon

I could see Miguel taking his role as boss very seriously - the same way he took being a father.

Miguel has assumed the role of 'leader' over these Spider-people. In his eyes, it's his job to lead these people through their canon events to the other side, for the safety of the universe, and for them to become the people fate says they're supposed to be.

Because he made the mistake of 'going against fate'. A lot of the time we say that Miguel's justification is 'because I suffered, you must too'. But in his eyes, it's more like 'I tried to run from who I was supposed to be and it blew up in my face. Please don't make the same mistake - it's not worth it.'

Quiet literally 'Do what you're supposed to do, and things won't fall apart around you.'

And I think that really says a lot about how he feels about his own choices, and his own daughter.

Miguel broke canon to be with his daughter, and because of that, she - and billions of others, died. And Miguel feels directly responsible for that. In his eyes, he killed his daughter and murdered billions of people.

And although he loves his daughter - he sees it as not worth it. He sees taking her father's place as a mistake.

To Miguel, canon events and the pain they cause are much more 'worth it' and 'tolerable', than the pain and guilt of killing an entire universe.

Because with canon events, there is no fault. It's not your fault you couldn't catch Gwen Stacy. It's not that you're not fast enough, it's that it's suppose to happen. It's not your fault.

But in Miguel's case - it was his fault. It wasn't suppose to happen.

That's why Miles sets him off in a way others don't and can't. Because he wasn't supposed to happen.

When things are under control, Miguel is fine. When things aren't, Miguel isn't.

Miguel needs order. He needs canon. Not because he likes it, but because he feels beaten into submission by it. He feels safe in the idea that canon events happen even if you do everything right, because he still feels the guilt of having done something 'wrong'.

That's why he sees letting people die in canon events as 'the right thing'.

It's the trolley problem.

A trolley is hurtling at someone you love, on the other track there are 5 people. Do you let the one you love die, or do you hit the switch and save them - and take the blame for killing five people?

What's the right thing to do? Save your captain father and letting a universe die? Or letting your father die, but the universe will for sure live.

Miguel has already made his choice, even if he didn't know it at the time. By becoming a father, Miguel hit the switch. And he chose his daughter at the expense of a universe. And he regrets that decision. He feels guilt, like he's to blame.

When canon events happen, there's no one to blame. When anomalies happen, there is.

Miles and Miguel

Miles and Miguel have an interesting and unique dynamic with each other, one that I haven't seen anyone mention yet.

When I look at Miles and Miguel, especially in this scene:

I kinda see Miguel and a past version of himself. Miguel trying to stop what he sees - as someone about to make the same mistake he did.

When Miguel met his daughter, he didn't know about it's threat to the multiverse. And although it might be described as the best time in Miguel's life, he regrets it. If he would go back, he would have rather let his daughter live. Fatherless, but at least she would have lived.

Miguel didn't know. But Miles does. And that's what makes Miguel so furious.

Miles is going to go against canon, be with his dad, and threaten the multiverse. And Miguel believes that if Miles does this, billions of people and beings across a universe will die. 100% totality rate, 100% assured.

Miles is in the same position as Miguel once was. Miles has the same choice. To choose the one he loves over canon.

The only difference is Miles knows. He has a chance.

Miguel believes that Miles can spare himself the pain, and the guilt of murdering billions - if he just listened to him.

Miguel is the only Spider-person who has ever killed a Spider-verse. And he doesn't want that for Miles.

Miles being an anomaly was one thing. He was ready to calmly talk about that. But when Miguel sees him going down the same road as he once did, making the same choice even though Miguel is telling him not to - it makes it snap.

Because if Miguel could go back, knowing what he knows - if Miguel could only be in Miles' place - he wouldn't. Like Rio said - Miguel would kill to be in his place.

He sees Miguel like how Rio describes herself, oddly enough. Rio says she'd kill to be in Miles place, and she doesn't understand his 'irresponsible' behavior. But unbeknownst to her - his 'irresponsible' behavior is more heroic than she can understand.

Miguel is just the same. He sees Miles' choice as irresponsible, that he's making all the wrong choices even though people are throwing opportunity at him.

Miles is the only other Spider-person to risk what Miguel risked. And, genuinely believing everyone will die because of this - he's furious at Miles, the same way he's still furious at himself. He loved his daughter, and he knows Miles loves it dad. But having been on the other side of it all, he sees it as not worth it.

Miguel wants to be the only Spider-man who is the way he is. He doesn't want to Miles to do what he did, become what he is. Because he knows theres no coming back from that.

If Miguel could go back and shake himself and scream in his face to leave Gabriella alone, to just leave her dimension alone, he would. But he can't.

So he does it to Miles.

Miguel as a Boss

I don't think Miguel is an outright mean or abrasive person. I feel like outside of Miles, he's fairly calm, albeit a bit stressed. I could see him being really organized and good at time management -

And I can see Miguel being good with people. I don't think he's the kinda boss that'd be like 'Oh, you had a canon event last night? Your girlfriend fell off a building? Yeah, we get that a lot, get over it.'

And if anything - I think he'd want to help the Spider-people when it comes to processing canon events.

Miguel believes that canon events are necessary, not just to the multiverse, but to the development of who Spider-people are 'supposed' to be. So I think he'd set up support systems around HQ to help them process it, and he'd at least be a bit understanding.

I could absolutely see Miguel as the type to ask a teammate "Are you alright?" after something intense, or telling them to sit out. I could see him giving generous leave for Spiders who are going through stuff.

By Jess's response, it seems as if he leaves most of that to her, but I feel like the fact he stops to tell Gwen "Don't worry, kid." shows that he's use to comforting people, or prioritizes putting people at ease.

I mean, what Spider-man doesn't?

Miguel does seem to get along with people (aside from Miles and Gwen when he's scolding her), and it seems like people do like Miguel.

Miguel's Personality

Tbh - I don't think he's nearly as angry as fandom makes him out to be.

He was raising a child. I imagine that for the most part, he's pretty patient.

Like if you call him a name, he's not gonna get pissed. I feel like he's more likely to be like "Haha. Very funny." Or just pinch his nose bridge and be like "You done?"

I mean I know with all the gnashing and clawing and yelling and going apeshit, it can be easy to imagine Miguel as JUST that.

But I also like to imagine that most of the time, he's just like that normal boss as Target.

And a lot of his day is spent doing boring mundane things.

He's not always standing there brooding over videos of him and his dead daughter. He only does that when he's psyching himself up to yell at Miles.

Outside of that, he probably has a lot more things to do, realistically speaking. Organizing missions, checking status reports, looking over intake forms of anomalies, okaying and vetoing different protocols. Approving new technology, taking complaints from members, dealing with Hobie (an extra job in its own right), fixing things MayDay breaks, etc, etc.

And he's completely fine with that. Maybe he even finds calmness in it. When there's order, and routine, and everyone is working together and there's no kinks in the hose per say, he can operate.

Like yeah he's a little irritated and looks like he only slept 4 hours - but he's here and he's going to work with his team and employees, make sure things run smoothly, and make sure everyone gets home safe.

He's gonna try and make the society a nice place to be and make sure people on the team (like Lego) feel appreciated and odd-one-outs like Hobie get to hang and do what they want without much kickback.

The other Spider-people - like Pavi - wouldn't have joined otherwise.

If Pavi had showed up and Miguel was all stern and cold and rude, he probably would've been like 'no thanks my friend'

Miguel knew Peter B. before he lost Gabriella. So he had to become friends with Peter some way. He was putting up with Peter and his humor by choice, and in return Peter must have found Miguel cool enough to hang out with.

I think it's because Miguel is good with people, a lot of different types of people.

He's pretty down to earth, even if he is a work-aholic. He can be fun to chill or hang out with, even if he's a bit of a tight-ass.

Sure his humor may be dry, and his personality tame, but he's just him.

But I can see him as being a guy who you see at the gym routinely and never say hi to but you just nod at each other in silent respect while doing your workouts sometime.

Or the dude at your job you only see at the coffee machine - you know he does other stuff, but you never run into him anywhere else.

Or the dude who'll stop on the street when you ask for the time and lift one earphone before telling you it, then walking away without another word.

DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN DO YOU GET THAT VIBE Like just Dude He's like a dad but not like a 'Dad vibe' with like sneakers or anything but like 'Dad who comes to PTA meeting but doesn't talk to anybody and quietly leaves when it's over'.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU UNDERSTAND THIS VIBE It's giving Ken.

Anyways stop avoiding Miguel's Kenergy.

[crxss01]

— Finally

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ percy jackson x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ you and percy confess to each other after an argument while you both fought a monster.

warnings ✧˖ ° violence (they are fighting a monster), making out in the middle of a fight, curse words.

m. list, main m.list.

"you do know that this is all your fault, right?" percy yelled at you as you both fought the scythian dracanae side by side.

"my fault? what the fuck are you—" you looked at him in disbelief but then regretted doing so when the she-monster took the opportunity to take a swing at you with one of her serpent trunks.

percy deflected the attack that was made towards you, pushing you out of the way. "stay focus!" he yelled.

"i will when you stop blaming every misfortune on me!" you yelled and attacked the female reptile.

"sssssstop, your argument givessss me a headache!" the monster demanded.

"you can get headaches?" percy asked with a chuckled.

you couldn't deny that it sounded so goddamn attractive, and it made you more mad than you were already.

"shut up, percy." you told him. "stay focus, remember?"

"here you go again." he complained, now fighting the dracanae on his own as you were knocked off your feet. "you okay?"

"yes, i'm okay." you answered, just laying there for a second going over memories of decisions you had made and regretting them before standing back up and holding onto your sword tightly.

"good, because you keep getting distracted. stop that or you will get yourself killed."

this bitch.

you rolled your eyes but he was right, you needed to stay focus on the fight. you briefly wondered why it was taking so long since percy was an excellent fighter and he could've killed the dracanae in five minutes flat.

"why. haven't. you. kill. this. thing." you panted out, landing a blow after each word.

"i don't know, maybe i wanted to spend time with you." he said sarcastically or at least you thought it was.

"very funny." you said dryly, why did he have to play with you like that.

"is not a joke though." percy said, feeling a bust of courage.

your head snapped to him so fast that you thought you might have gotten whiplash. "what?"

"look, i know this isn't the most convenient moment to say this but i’m full of adrenaline so imma take the chance to tell you that i like you." percy sighed and stopped fighting.

the dracanae stood there staring at the scene of you two completely forgetting about her.

"unfortunately for you..." you made a face, just for the drama of it and watched percy's face slowly fall. "i like you too."

percy let out a dry chuckle, throwing his head back with another sigh then shaking his head. "i hate you so much..." he mumbled then walked to you.

he grabbed your face between his hands and attached his lips to yours. you dropped your sword, putting your arms around his neck and kissing him back with as much passion as he was. it was so addicting, the smell of sea salt and the taste of blueberries of his lips was driving you crazy from just a few seconds of kissing.

you two separated then leaned back in after taking a few deep breath's, this was exactly what you needed right now. you could kiss him all day and not get tired of it. his hands came down from your face to your neck, to your shoulder until they rested against your hips.

"how dare you two do thissssss infront of me!! thisss issss—" the dracanae got interrupted by the humidity coming off the ground and turning to water that engulfed around her, drowning her voice inside of it.

you unfortunately couldn't see that at the time because you were too busy kissing percy jackson, your boyfriend? maybe.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[togetherhearted]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request Nikola, Buddha, Raiden and Qin (if that's too much you can take Raiden out) with a fem reader (s/o) that's a sleepy god? reader is pretty strong, almost stronger than the supreme gods, but she's really calm and likes to nap most of the times, like, with Nikola when he's writing something down or working on something she lays her head on his lap and falls asleep, with Buddha when he's just eating snacks and chilling she just lays on his chest and sleeps, with Qin when he's looking over some work he needs to do as the emperor she just lays at his side and proceeds to take a nap right there, and she just uses Raiden as a huge pillow/bed because of tall this man is (he's like 8ft tall or something)

I admit that I felt bad for Raiden so I broke my rule for 3 characters at max 😅 Our big boy deserves more love ♡

NIKOLA,BUDDHA,QIN AND RAIDEN WITH A SLEEPY GODDESS

Your head was carefully laying on his lap. Nikola sat on the couch just for you;to grant you the sleep you deserve. Your strength was out of the world, but it required you so much energy you could even fall asleep while standing. His voice was barely a whisper as he went on with reading reports about his latest invention. The sweet sound making your sleep come faster.

A, not so, subtle smile graced Buddha's lips as he watched you struggling keeping yourself awake while meditating. A strong deity like you had so much steam to release, or so he thought. In the end, you could just take a simple walk in the gardens; immediately after you were knocked out and sleeping. It was amusing to him. Buddha sucked on his lollipop as you fell on the grass, face flat. His laugh made you jump, but you forgave him when he pulled you on his lap;letting you sleep there.

You had a boring meeting with some other gods. It was quite boring, leaving you a desire to crawl in your bed and sleep. You entered your room. Qin was there, re-ordering scrolls. You gave a quick glance to him. Your body hit the mattress and fell asleep instantly. Qin blinked, then shrugged his shoulders with a little smile.A short nap was tempting for the emperor now.

There was a big difference between you and Raiden. He was eager to blow off some steam with a good fight while you were more on the calm side. Yet he has managed to convince you to playful wrestle with him.  As you were expecting this tire you to the point you soon were asleep. Raiden was laying on the mattress;his eyes closed as one of his muscular arms were wrapped around your back. The sound of your breaths was the only one to break the silence. You slept peacefully on top of him.

[erodasfishtacos]

Steer Clear Pt. III

summary: yn figuring out dynamics with her grumpy flat mate. word count: 7k warnings: abo!, moody h

author’s note:

There is 8 more parts to this up on patreon

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating doctor!h blind date

All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature

There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here! PART ONE PART TWO +++++

YN‘s day goes by in a blink of an eye.

She and Beatrice slept most of the morning and afternoon without interruption.

YN was of course wrapped as tightly as possible in the blanket that Harry had warned her about.

He was completely right too.

It was absolutely sodden with his scent, YN wishes she had an unlimited supply of it.

It makes her wonder if it’s a reaction purely based off of her current state or she actually would like this scent just as much when she wasn’t in heat.

YN finds herself wishing that Harry was back in their apartment.

It’s a fierce protectiveness, possessiveness that is flaring up in a way that is very unlike her.

Typically, she did the exact opposite.

She pushed people out, sure, all of those said people have been betas but still.

YN had never wanted Niall to stay or anybody else she was close to either.

She would turn venomous, mean, into someone that didn’t match her true personality.

It was pure fight or flight mode that she was willing to act whatever way was necessary to get everybody out of her protected space.

Around three is when YN starts paying closer attention to the clock.

It’s stupid though because Harry very rarely walks in the door earlier than eleven in the evening.

He’s your alpha. He’ll know to come home, YN omega assures her.

“He’s not my fucking alpha,” YN hisses to herself because she doesn’t need to know when he’s getting home because they’re not in any type of relationship.

Exactly the opposite, YN is still convinced more than not that Harry is only tolerating at best until he can find somewhere else that’s not with a broken omega.

With all that being said, YN still watches the clock and in no time, eleven has long passed.

She’s tired but there’s irritation building as she watches it get closer to midnight and her alpha- Harry still hasn’t come home yet.

YN has rubbed her face into the blanket so much that it was ridiculously enough already starting to lose the scent that he had interwoven into every fiber of the knit material.

It’s hard for YN to always decipher her emotions in these cycles before every time seems real, logical, and more than that more intense.

So YN sits and sits and sits on that couch until she finally hears the doorknob turn with a key before it turns open softly.

Harry is assuming she’s asleep, logically, and obviously trying to be quiet as he leans down to untie his shoes before placing them neatly in the spot.

He hangs his gym bag on one of the hooks and shucks off his jacket before tucking it over the bag.

YN doesn’t even realize that she’s growling at him until it exits her mouth and he turns his head to look at her, clearly confused but not startled necessarily.

Harry doesn’t react, he turns back to lock the door before finally making his way to the living area with the same, infuriating emotionless set on his features.

YN raises her pitch, more pushy, not requesting but demanding a response from him.

“I know you’re not growling at me,” Harry rumbles bored, not giving her the attention or response that she was craving, that her omega desired.

YN does not relent, she doesn’t even recognize herself as she watches Harry watch her - his eyes falling on the blanket she was currently wrapped up in.

YN tugs it closer to her body, protective and unwilling to give it up because she felt safe in it.

“I’m not going to take your blanket,” Harry replies to her growls, steady and still almost sounding unbothered, and he doesn’t even care that she loves his scent so much.

YN glares at him, watches him as he makes his way into the kitchen, and her omega hates that it feels rejected by the way he doesn’t come to comfort her.

Harry pulls out a container of one of his meals he’s already prepped for the week, basic chicken and rice that he pops in the microwave before mixing up another protein drink.

Once he’s finished shaking the drink, he takes a long chug from the bottle before he’s finally looking at her again.

Even though his face and body language was appearing unaffected, the thing that gave him away was the way he was pumping out his scent - obnoxious and stronger than necessary.

YN wasn’t really sure what that was about but she was focused on much bigger things at this point.

“Are you going to explain to me what I’ve done that has you so up in arms?” Harry raises an eyebrow, taking another slow sip and licking his bottom lip, “I haven’t had anyone over. I told you I won’t do that again. I will remind you that I’m not a mind reader.”

He was so alpha, so nonchalant, so just….alpha it was frustrating and unfair.

YN’s throat goes dry because she’s not getting the comfort, the reassurance she needs, and in the past, when betas have tried to reassure her old boyfriends and flings, that was when she would turn nasty on them.

She has no urge to get nasty with the alpha standing in front of her.

Instead, embarrassingly enough, she wants to cry because she just wants to bury her face in his neck where the scent is the strongest and she doesn’t know in such a short amount of time that her viewpoint on him has changed so drastically.

“Are you going to answer me or shall I go to my room?” Harry prompts after a long pause of her just staring at him, trying to swallow down the range of emotions that was swirling through her at this time.

YN growls again, louder and more agitated.

“Enough,” Harry finally breaks but just barely, his teeth flashing at her in warning, “I’m sick of the growling. You’re like a feral pup. Tell me what's going on, this is the last time I’m asking you before I go into my room. It’s nearly two in the morning, you shouldn’t even be awake.”

YN’s growls cut off almost instantly even though it wasn’t a command in his alpha timbre, she mumbles, “You came home late.”

Harry grabs his food from the microwave, “Speak up, you were loud enough a minute ago.”

“You came home late,” YN grits out, she knows how utterly ridiculous she sounds, she knows okay?

She wishes she could swallow the words back up.

Harry’s eyebrow only gives the slightest raise before his face is blank again, “I’m always home late. You should have told me if I have been disturbing your sleep by getting in at this time.”

YN stands up, flustered and her face felt hot with a mixture of rage and embarrassment, “That’s not why.”

Harry sighs as he drops his fork to the counter, “What’s the issue then? Do you not want me here? Are you trying to kick me out?”

A distressed whine leaves her throat, that’s not her intention of this conversation at all, and the thought of him leaving makes her want to be sick.

Harry shows he is at least somewhat in-tuned with his alpha when he perks up at the noise, “Okay, that’s not it then.”

YN blinks at him.

“Go to bed,” Harry tells her evenly, no hint at whether any of this has even slightly affected him, “There’s no need to wait up for me. I’ll always be home.”

He doesn’t really get it.

YN wants to cry which means it’s the opportune time to go to bed, moving towards her bedroom without another word to him.

After she uses the restroom and almost gets in her nest, she realizes she hadn’t brought the striped blanket with her which makes her even more unsettled.

If that’s even possible at this point.

Just as she swings open her door, Harry is walking away from her and towards the living area.

He doesn’t look back.

However, the blanket is folded neatly in front of her door, and when she picks it up - she’s fucking delighted to realize that he laid more of his scent on it.

Maybe his inner alpha did exist after all.

YN purrs relentlessly with the blanket perfectly nestled into her bedding like everything else, it was an absolute perfect addition.

If she wasn’t so tired from her long night up, waiting for him, maybe she would have considered the implications of Harry rescenting a blanket for her and leaving it at her door.

Instead, she brushes it off as a nearly fed-up alpha who just wants the needy omega he’s cohabits with to just chill the fuck out and leave him alone.

The latter seems much more likely the scenario for YN.

+

Harry doesn’t not bring up the incident again.

He doesn’t sit her down and set firm boundaries with her that she’s not allowed to control when he comes and goes from the house.

He doesn’t scold her and tell her that he’s an alpha who will not tolerate an omega, who isn’t even his mate, growling at him for no logical reason.

Instead, Harry does the exact opposite of those things.

Their communication is still minimal at best but Harry comes home before ten every single night now without fail.

From the night on after YN’s behavior towards him, he walks through the doors before the clock strikes ten, and continues on with his nightly routine.

He doesn’t acknowledge the change or why he’s doing it.

But YN doesn’t find herself needing to growl at him every time he walks in the door.

She also thinks she must be getting closer to her heat or maybe even insane because she swears that her little items she steals from Harry, like shirts and hoarding the blanket in there as well, are never losing an ounce of his scent either.

Every time she crawls into her nest, it’s the same overwhelming rich and dizzying aroma that is distinctly him and only him.

Harry doesn’t make any type of effort to sit or socialize with YN if she’s in the living room.

What she does notice is that he pops out of his room every so often and YN feels like he’s checking in on her because sometimes he opens the fridge, stares for a moment, and closes it without grabbing anything.

But YN can feel his gaze on the back of her and it makes goosebumps break out on her arms for a reason she can’t really explain.

There’s tension, YN feels like she can almost see it, thick and cloying but she’s not going to be the one to break it either.

On this particular night, YN was more irritable than she’d been in at least a week and it was mostly because her inner omega was unsettled by the lack of attention from Harry.

YN hasn’t felt the need to growl at him recently but her mind keeps replaying the time she hugged him and he squeezed her neck.

How could it go from so intimate to nothing in a matter of seconds.

Does YN choose to stir the pot?

Absolutely.

The next night, right around nine-thirty, YN decides it would be a wonderful time to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch.

Harry claims the kitchen when he’s home for his dinner.

If YN so much as tries to enter for a bottle of water, it’s not that he would stop her but she’s accustomed to the low grunt that he’ll let slide from the back of his throat at his displeasure of sharing his space.

Fucking alpha.

YN’s used to omegas and betas who are not only okay with sharing space but encourage it.

YN wasn’t trying to be overly messy but she naturally was clumsy, there was flour dusted across the countertop (maybe even a little bit on Beatrice), the drippy yolk of an egg on the side of the bowl when she cracked one funky.

YN’s hands were caked with a mixture of egg, sugar, flour as she tried to roll each ball of cookie dough into similar shapes and size - the made it look so much easier on Bake-Off than now.

When Harry walks in the door at nine-fifty three, doing his typical, neatly lining up his shoes, hanging up his gym bag, and then placing YN’s shoes neatly as well because she just kicks hers off.

Very opposite for their secondary genders.

It would be expected that YN would be the one organizing while Harry was haphazard and careless because he knew an omega would clean up after him - he didn’t seem to share the same beliefs as other alphas.

Harry takes a few steps into the kitchen until he’s on the opposite side of the bar that looks into the open space of the kitchen, an irritated tick in his jaw as he observes the mess that is the kitchen.

”S’quite enough of this, yeah?” Harry rumbles, he looks rougher than usual, not putting on such a good mask as his normal is.

His eyebrows are knitted deeply enough that his lids cover his eyes more than normal, his nostrils were flaring, and his upper lip was crooked upwards in a makeshift almost-snarl as he let out an exasperated huff.

YN turns on the clueless act, a perfectly crafted expression of faux surprise covering her face, “You don’t like cookies?”

”Out of the kitchen,” Harry replies sharply, his hackles would be up in any other situation and they were close, shoulders so tense that they were nearly to his ears as he stared daggers into her.

It was intense enough that she got a zip of electricity up her spine that she couldn’t tell whether it was arousal or fear.

Maybe both.

Definitely both.

Her inner omega wasn’t all together clueless and knew that she shouldn’t be taunting an already on-edge alpha because she wanted attention that she didn’t even deserve or should expect from him.

”Once I’m done with the cookies,” YN waves her hand, airily and trying to appear unbothered like he normally is - she gives him credit because it’s a lot harder than it looks if she’s being honest with herself.

”You’re not finishing the cookies,” Harry shakes his head, turning the corner into the kitchen, and making YN’s heart rate spike instantaneously, “You’re going to sleep. You need rest and this isn’t the time to make fuckin’ cookies.”

”It’s the perfect time to make them,” YN turns it back easily, trying not to let the quiver in his tone as obvious, she can hear it easily and hopes that he doesn’t.

”Do you think I’m stupid?” Harry asks bluntly, his tone louder than normal as he reaches over the stovetop to press a button on the panel to turn the oven off from where it was preheated and ready for the cookies, “You’ve never made cookies once since I’ve been here. You are off work and have all day but you choose right now. The only time I use the kitchen.”

Shit.

She wasn’t as smooth as she thought.

YN swallows harshly, the quip about turning off the oven dying in her throat.

He doesn’t acknowledge the implications of what he just accused her of.

He ignores it like he does with everything else.

”Go to bed,” Harry repeats, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches her, he catches onto her game easily even if he doesn’t completely know the reason that she’s playing it.

“I have to clean up,” YN argues now, she wasn’t going to leave him to clean up the mess.

That was never her intention plus with how exhausted, irritated he appears, YN was already feeling guilty for picking such a bad day to mess with him.

”I’ll clean it up,” Harry retorts firmly, the timbre coming into his tone but it wasn’t enough to be commanding, just tilting on the edge of it, “Leave it alone and go to sleep.”

YN hesitates by the doorway of the kitchen, loitering as she watches Harry roughly grab a towel from where it was hanging on the oven door, reaching under the sink for the cleaning spray, and getting to work.

This did the opposite of YN’s intentions, it made her feel even more unsettled.

She somehow managed to not even really get Harry’s attention this way, he just dismissed her again.

YN doesn’t argue further, doesn’t want to push him to use his alpha command but she does retreat down the hall with her metaphorical tail between her legs and goes into her room like Harry had asked multiple times.

She can’t sleep, her nest doesn’t feel right and she can’t make it feel right.

YN is trying desperately not to cry when she rearranges a sweater for the fifth time to no avail.

As much as she doesn’t want to leave the bedroom, she needs a break from her nest because it is driving her insane, and it’s been long enough that Harry should be out of the kitchen for her to grab something to drink.

This was hell.

YN opens her door, takes one step forward, and her foot hits something soft.

When she glances down, it’s one of the blankets from the living room, neatly folded and right where the one was before.

YN picks it up, pressing it to her face, and realizing that it was another scented blanket.

A gift from the alpha almost.

But YN wonders if it’s just stressing him out to have such an dysfunctional omega in the same proximity of her.

It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t a courting gesture, it was a simple gesture her for his own benefit.

Or that what’s her inner omega was convincing her even as she arranged it nicely and fell asleep promptly afterwards like she never even struggled to sleep in the first place.

++

When YN wakes up in the morning, reflecting on the night before, she realizes that she really cannot continue to put Harry through this mayhem of her pre-heat.

It’s not fair to him, he’s just an alpha who she happened to agree to let move in with her who didn’t really now what he was signing u poor, and she really wasn’t making his life easy with all of it.

If YN had thought about it for longer, she would have realized it was an absolutely horrible idea.

However, she was much more focused on not embarassing herself in front of the most attractive alpha she’d ever come across anymore than she already had.

She couldn’t believe she even attempted the cookie thing, getting so easily called out, and getting nothing of a reaction.

YN doesn’t think it’s possible to embarass herself further than she already had in that scenario.

It was time to change something.

For the first time, YN was going to try to seek out an alpha.

It was a knee-jerk, too much of an emotional reaction when she sends a text to Niall.

YN: Blaze tonight? We haven’t been clubbing in a hot minute! Thinkin’ it’s about time to find me an alpha ;-)

Niall: Fuck yeah, pick u up at nine?

YN: I’ll be waiting.

And again, if Niall knew she was in pre-heat, he would never agree.

However, what Niall doesn’t know will not hurt him.

Right?

+++++++_ When YN walks out of her bedroom after shooting off that text to Niall, satisfied to have plan to get her mind off of an alpha that is not only out of her league but minimally tolerates her.

The house smells amazing but it’s not just because of Harry’s scent (that’s a big part of it) but YN feels like now she must be hallucinating because the apartment smells like chocolate chip cookies.

Sure enough when she makes her way into the kitchen, there’s a clear storage container holding what looked to be a dozen chocolate chip cookies.

And when YN peels back the lid, taking one out to examine, she realizes that Harry had made the cookies.

The frustration that shot through YN was for multiple different reasons.

Did he think that it was funny to tell her she couldn’t and then he did?

He looked so incredibly exhausted last night and he was still vindictive enough to stay up and make cookies?

She had watched him with her own eyes lean over to turn the oven off which meant he would have had to preheat it again.

YN glances over at the sink to see that there are no dishes either which means after all this, he really did clean the whole kitchen.

It was most likely to prove a point.

It felt like the point was that she wasn’t a good omega.

When she wasn’t in these vicious cycles, she was tidy and more on-top of things but in it, there was almost this brain fog that blanketed her.

The chocolate chip cookies just solidified that she needs to go out tonight, she needs to get her mind off of Harry, and find another alpha.

Her omega despises the thought but she pushes that prodding inner monologue as far back in her mind as possible as she’s getting ready in her room.

YN goes for a simple but sexy dress, a makeup without wearing makeup look, making a subtle look with dewy skin and a highlight on her nose, hair loose and purposefully messy in waves.

She looked good, felt good as she gave herself a once over in the mirror, and before she knew it, Niall was texting her that he was out front.

YN doesn’t leave a note, why would she?

She doesn’t owe that alpha anything, just like he doesn’t owe her.

They’re not even friends for crying out loud.

YN gives Beatrice half a dozen kisses before locking the door on her way out of the apartment, fixing her hair in the reflection of the elevator doors as she waits for them to open.

Niall unlocks the door for YN to slip into the passenger seat, “Whoa, you tryin’ to pull tonight with that outfit, huh? You’d get any betas in the room.”

“Alpha,” YN corrects as she places her small purse in her lap.

Niall’s eyebrows raise towards his hairline, “Since when are you interested in alphas? You’d literally never wanted to even interact with one.”

YN shrugs, not quite willing to share the honest answer, “Something new, I guess.”

Niall doesn’t buy it, as he pulls away from the curb, “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you live with an alpha now?”

YN lets out a faux-surprised laugh, lying through her teeth when she says, “If anything, it makes me never want to meet another alpha again. I don’t know what you were thinking when you thought that’d be a good idea.”

The smile falters on Niall’s face, his big blue eyes turning into a pool of concern, “Is it bad? Will he not leave? You could have told me-”

YN’s heart rate spikes, she doesn’t want him to think that or report that back to Harry.

“No! Jesus, Niall. I was joking. Harry’s a great flatmate, a little quiet but as non-problematic as they come,” YN lets another lie slip out, this one a bit easier because she wasn’t intending to paint a negative picture of Harry to her friend.

“Oh, okay. Good,” Niall nods as his shoulders relax, “It’s not like I could even match him anyways. There’s a reason they call him The Annihilator.”

“Who calls him that?” YN asks, having never heard the name before.

“It’s his fighting name. I told you he fights for money, that’s where he is most nights. That's what they call him because he rarely loses,” Niall shrugs as he stops at a light, looking over at her, “You’ve had to have seen his muscles. He’s ripped even for an alpha. Dude is the definition of an alpha.”

YN could definitely agree with that.

YN also doesn’t like the idea that he fights for money or knowing that’s what Harry does when he’s not at their apartment.

He hides it well when he walks in the door, YN sometimes notices a bruise or a mark but she knew he boxed.

She didn’t realize that it was actual fighting where he could be injured or seriously injure someone else.

“He didn’t tell you that? Huh. I guess it’s not surprising, I only found out by accident,” Niall shrugs easily, honking when the car in front of them doesn’t move, “He rarely shares anything about himself.”

“How do you accidentally find that out?” YN asks curiously, Harry wasn’t going to hand over this information nor would she ask him so Niall was the best second option to get the information out of him.

“I was walking home from the pub one night, a Saturday, I think,” Niall recalls, pausing as he remembers, “There was a huge crowd of people, a line waiting outside of a gym, and I thought that it was odd because it was like two in the morning.”

“I was a little buzzed, wasn’t necessarily in my right mind, and I followed the crowd into the gym to see what all the excitement was about,” Niall continues, “I realized a bit too late that it was an illegal fighting ring. I went to leave but as soon as they announced the main fight of the night, Harry was the person who walked out that had people going insane.”

“I stayed, he didn’t notice me in the crowd. I really didn’t know anything about him. He was a guy I worked with who I occasionally talked about the weather and sports with,” Niall laughs, “He really fucked the dude he was fighting up. I mean like…within the minute, the dude was knocked out cold.”

“It was odd, very Harry-like but he didn’t even look excited that he just won. When the ref raised his hand in the air, everyone was screaming, and Harry just looked bored. It was crazy, I think I would feel on top of the world.”

“I didn’t think he noticed me in the crowd. He really wasn’t in the ring for that long nor did I think he even glanced into the crowd once.”

Niall bites his lip for a moment, “The next Monday, he kinda confronted me in the break room. He told me to keep my mouth shut about it. I told him I thought the fight was awesome and we sorta became chill after that.”

YN can’t help but scoff because that’s such a Niall way to become friends with someone who was threatening him like that.

YN had so many questions rolling around, none get out before they pull into their parking spot, and Niall is getting out to usher her towards the club.

It was packed.

YN was used to going to omega and beta clubs only, no alphas allowed but this was for every secondary gender, none were excluded.

The smells were overly intense to YN’s sensitive nose, making it crinkle and wish that she had something of Harry’s to bury her nose in.

As they make their way through the crowds, YN can’t help but wish for Harry, wish to be back at their home, back in her nest surrounded by her soft, amazing smelling things.

The desire for another alpha had left her body the moment she had entered the club and saw the way the alphas were leering at her.

There was a reason she never came to these types of clubs.

Niall would be horrified and quick frankly hurt if he found out that YN was in her pre-heat, it wasn’t until now she was realizing how much she may be endangering herself.

She wanted Harry.

Even if he was mean.

Grumpy.

Only tolerating her.

He was safe.

He made her feel safe and protected.

YN was fighting down the urge to ask to go home.

She knows that Niall would take her but when she sees how happy he is, how in his element he is when a few omegas circle him, it would make her feel guilty to take him out of his already fun time.

The night goes pretty uneventful until the end, YN sat on her barstool, sipping on the same drink for the last hour.

Niall was socializing, dancing, and coming back in regularly to check on YN but he was oblivious as always to how subdued she was.

A few different people had come over to strike up conversations but they fizzled out after she realized the majority were just looking for a hookup and all she could think about was the alpha who was most likely already home by now.

YN goes to check her phone, trying to see what time it is but it’s dead.

She must have forgot to plug it in while she was getting ready but if she was to guess, it was getting into the early hours by this point.

YN hasn’t seen Niall in a few minutes and she feels like now is an appropriate time to ask for them to leave so she slides off the barstool that she had been taking residence on to find her friend in the crowd of sweaty bodies.

As she makes her way through the swarms of dancing people, someone grabs her wrist and it causes her to stumble backwards.

She assumes it’s Niall, she must have walked right past him.

But when she looks at the person who tugged her, it was an alpha.

A big, beefy alpha with a sharp, unsettling smile as he eyed her up.

He didn’t let go of her wrist and even with the mass amount of people surrounding them, she could smell how harshly he was pushing out his own scent which smelled like something akin to a musky, dampness that made her want to gag.

”Let go,” YN demands as she attempts to tug her wrist away.

”I just want to talk to you,” The alpha responds, in a fake display of playfulness as he yanks her again, bringing him even closer to his own chest.

”I said let go,” YN repeats, firmer as she tries to escape his grip, the pressure on her bone was painful and surely going to leave a bruise.

”I’m not done talking to you,” The man replies with a hint of offense, like it was absurd that YN was trying to pull out of his grip, “You shouldn’t come to these types of clubs if you’re not looking for an alpha to take you home and knot -“

YN brings her wrist up which mean his hand as well, she is in pure defense mode when she sinks her teeth into the meat of his hand which makes him jerk away with a very unalphalike yelp.

He glances down at his bloody hand with disbelief, “Did you just fucking bite me?”

YN wipes her face, she knows she has his blood on her lips from how fiercely she had sunk her teeth in, with the purpose of pain and injury.

”Whoa, whoa…” Niall’s voice comes out of no where, putting himself between the two of them, “What the fuck is going on?”

YN wants Harry.

YN wants to fucking leave.

YN wants her nest.

”Take me home,” YN says to Niall instead.

”YN, what- “ Niall tries to ask again, concern and utter confusion written over his facial features as he watches the alpha tend to his injured hand by ripping a piece of his shirt to wrap in a makeshift bandage.

”Please take me home,” YN is pleading at this point which leaves Niall’s lips in a firm line as he nods and guides her out of the club.

++

It isn’t fair by YN doesn’t talk on the way home.

She doesn’t give Niall any explanation for the events that had unfolded when he deserves it.

YN promises she’ll make it better in the morning but her omega is so incredibly unsettled and she can’t believe that she was fucking stupid enough to think that going out to a club with alphas would have made her feel differently towards Harry.

She just wants to crawl into a ball in her nest and disappear until her cycle is over.

It was getting worse, further, closer.

She had fucking bit someone like a feral fucking pup as Harry had previously called her.

Niall walks her up to her door, waits patiently as she rustles in her purse for the keys to the apartment door.

However, it isn’t necessary because before she can even find her keys, the door is swinging open, and revealing an absolute incensed, furious alpha who’s nostrils were flaring, teeth were flashing, and he looked less than a second away from ripping out Niall’s jugular vein. +_+

[jeneveuxrein]

safety net [1/2] (BLACKPINK Rosé)

word count: 25.8K

part 1 (14.8K) | part 2 (11K)

(thanks to everyone who read the first story i published, truly appreciate it! this one's more plot than anything with a smidgen of you know)

“Hey.” 

You glance away from your screen to Park Chaeyoung standing in front of you, a determined look on her face. You prefer to call her Rosie, mostly because you know how much it irritates her, and you’re the only one that calls her by her English name.

“Uh hey Rosie,” You greet, slightly closing your laptop. “What’s up?” 

“I have a proposition for you,” Rosie leans over the table. “And please listen to it before you flat out say no.”

You raise an eyebrow, shutting your laptop completely. You start packing your belongings. 

“Wait what? What’re you doing?” Rosie straightens, taking a step back. 

“Well I’m hungry, and if I have to listen to you, I would rather do it while I’m eating,” You swing your backpack over one shoulder, adding, “You’re paying by the way.” 

As you walk away, you hear Rosie huff. You smirk when her arm loops with yours. 

“Fine,” You don’t have to look at her to know she’s pouting, but you wonder what, of all things, she needs you for.

Guess you’ll find out. 

--

The server places your orders in front of you, as Rosie sits across from you, sipping her iced coffee. You give a small thanks as your mouth waters at the sight of the burger. 

“You act like you don’t eat,” Rosie comments after you take the first bite. You flip her off after taking another bite. You hadn’t eaten lunch, so you were starving. 

“What do you want?” You ask before you continue eating, ignoring her comment. No matter what, you were ravenous. This burger would be gone before she finished.

“Okay,” Rosie takes a breath, composing herself. You realize that whatever she’s going to ask you is big, especially if she’s asking you. Though, you keep eating. “So you know how I’ve never been in a relationship right?” 

You nod. It wasn’t any of your business, nor did you pay any attention to her dating life specifically, but your friends, the girls mostly, commented a lot about her lack of dating, or really lack of interest in anyone.

“Well, there’s this guy who I’ve been talking to lately and I think I like him,” Rosie takes a small bite of her salad. “The only problem is my, I guess, experience, if you’re catching my drift.” 

This burger is too good for you to stop eating, but you nod anyways, having absolutely no idea what she’s referring to.

“I was wondering if you could help me in that department,” You raise an eyebrow, which you’re paying attention now. “I mean, will you show me how to have sex?” 

You choke, being mid-bite, that the burger falls apart onto the plate. You cough as Rosie’s suddenly next to you, hitting your back. 

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Rosie asks once you’ve stopped coughing.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You nod, waving off the server who was walking towards your table. “I’m good,” You repeat and Rosie takes her seat again. 

“So? What do you say?” 

“No,” You say flatly, staring at the deconstructed burger on your plate. Thankfully you finished most of it, but still.

“What? Why?” Rosie crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. 

It doesn’t faze you. You’re used to this, especially if it’s with Rosie.

“First let me ask, why me?” You attempt to put the burger back together, distracting yourself from the thoughts of Rosie like that.

“Well, it was Jennie’s idea really,” Rosie confesses, watching you rearrange the meat patty. “She said that if I want to feel comfortable doing stuff with Soohyun, I should just get it over with.”

Choi Soohyun, the rich pretty boy at your university. You’ve met him a few times, and he’s nice enough. You know his track record with women is on par with yours, but the difference is that he uses his father’s money to pull them in. You, on the other hand, come from a relatively wealthy family as well, but only Rosie and her three best friends know that. 

“And it has to be me?” You ask bluntly, appetite suddenly gone as you push the plate away.

“Yes,” Rosie nods enthusiastically, “As much as everyone calls you a playboy, girls talk. You allegedly know your way around a bedroom, and what better way for me to learn is from you.”

“Chaeyoung, absolutely not,” Using her real name was only saved for serious moments, and this was way too serious for a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Why not?” Rosie argues, rolling her eyes. “It’s just sex, isn’t that what all guys want?”

“I’m not sure what guys you’ve been hanging out with, but no, not all guys want just sex,” You mock, leaning back into the chair. “And shouldn’t your first time be special with someone you actually, I don’t know, like?” 

“In an ideal world, yes,” Chaeyoung answers, aggressively stabbing a piece of lettuce. “But I don’t care much for that stuff. You’re not answering my question, why won’t you have sex with me?” 

There was a list of reasons you could think of as to why you won’t have sex with Rosie. 

Number one, and the only one you were concerned about, being the history you have together. 

You’ve been sworn enemies since middle school, but there was a time before that where you were actually close. You grew up in the house next to hers, and your parents set up multiple play dates that she was someone you enjoyed spending time with. You considered her your best friend. It changed in middle school, for reasons you still didn’t know. You didn’t have the mental capacity at that age to fix it because you missed her, but you’ve never told her that. 

In high school, it was better, but you feigned indifference while she flat out ignored you. Unless your families were having dinner, but even then that consisted of snarky comments and petty arguments. The amount of times her older sister had to step in were too many to count. 

You thought university would be your fresh start, but lo and behold, you couldn’t seem to shake her presence from your life. You thought you wouldn’t see her as much since you were taking different subjects, but your friends ran in the same circle, so you saw her more than you needed to. 

“Do you not find me attractive?” Rosie’s question catches you off guard when you don’t respond. 

You’d be lying if you said no. You’ve been a witness to Rosie turning into a beautiful woman, but if she knew that, especially coming from you, her ego would skyrocket. A lot of the men, even women, on campus have a crush on her, but she typically rejected anyone because she was too focused on school and her dream of becoming a fashion designer—something she was very close to achieving with the amount of internships she’s been receiving from companies abroad. 

“Shut up, you know it’s not that,” You mumble, ignoring the smirk forming on Rosie’s face. “It’s you and me. We haven’t gotten along since we were like seven, now all of a sudden, you want to,” You pause, thinking of how to say it, “Have sex with me because of what you’ve heard?” 

“Look,” Rosie sighs, face falling. You detect the desperation, but she’d never admit it. “I know our relationship is complicated, but you’re the only guy I can trust to do this. Jungkook would blab. Taehyung would be an ass. And Yoongi’s too nice. Everyone else has a girlfriend who I very much would like to stay friends with. Can’t we just put the past behind us?” 

You didn’t want to further complicate things. At best, you two were civil. At worst, Rosie would be yelling at you along with repeatedly hitting your shoulder to take back whatever set her off. 

Adding sex into the mix? It’s a bomb waiting to go off. 

“I don’t know, Chaeyoung,” You say softly, pushing your plate away. “As much as you’re a pain in my ass, I don’t think I could do that with you. It would feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” 

Her face softens, and she reaches for your hand, “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, I’m taking advantage of you. It’s not like we have feelings for each other right?” 

You don’t, as far as you’re aware, but you have always, and will always, have a soft spot for her. You may not have gotten along over the years, but you’d still have her back. If she means what she says about her trusting you out of all the friends she has, it’s important. 

“No,” It feels off saying that, but you ignore it. “Fine,” You relent. You couldn’t believe you were agreeing. “But we have to set rules.”

“Really?” Rosie beams, clapping her hands. “Yes yes, of course.” 

“Uh, first rule, we’ll do it at my place since I live alone. I don’t need Jennie or Lisa or Jisoo hovering,” You say, which she nods. You love the girls, hell you’ve slept with Jennie on a couple occasions, but they can be nosey and overly critical. 

“That makes sense. Rule number two, no sleeping over,” She makes a face, “I will literally bring you home if it’s super late, or I’ll just bring you home in general.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Rosie rolls her eyes. 

“I know I don’t, but I’m not budging,” You’re firm about that. Your parents would kill you if anything happened to Rosie and you were the last person to see her. 

“Rule three, if you sleep with other people, please let me know and use a fucking condom,” Rosie says, “I don’t want my first time to end up with a disease.”

You’re slightly offended because as much as you have sex, you are safe. Even when girls don’t want to use protection, you do. 

“Obviously I will.”

“Good,” Rosie nods, “Last rule, no feelings. If at any point you or I feel something more than our mutual disdain for each other, we stop.” 

“Okay,” You roll your eyes, “Like I’d ever fall for you, but fine.” 

A pit forms in your stomach after saying that, but again, you brush it off.

“Right back at ya,” Rosie winks, smiling brightly that she accomplished her mission. “So what’re you doing tonight? Can we start?”

You nearly choke on your saliva, eyes bugging out as Rosie looks completely serious. 

“Uh,” You don’t have anything planned. You still have to finish the budget report your professor assigned, but it wasn’t due for another week. “You want to start tonight?”

“The sooner, the better right?”

“Okay,” You nod, suddenly nervous about this whole situation. “Okay,” You say a bit more confidently. “You’re paying for this.”

“I know,” Rosie chuckles, signaling to the server for the bill. 

What did you get yourself into?

--

You open the door for Rosie, letting her in first before following. You shut the door while she takes off her shoes, neatly placing them to the side as you take off your coat. 

“So this is your place,” Rosie comments, walking along the wall as she inspects the photos. It is her first time here, not that she was never welcomed. Your apartment has always been your safe place, only allowing a select few here.  “Did you take these?” 

“Yeah, I’m minoring in photography, so,” You shrug, walking past her as she stares at a photo from Jennie’s birthday. “I’m going to change into sweats, did you need anything? Water? Soju?” You offer because you’re considering taking a shot before you get started to ease your nerves. 

Rosie laughs, shaking her head, “Soju? Really? You need that?” 

“Don’t make fun of me. It isn’t every day that one of the hottest girls at school asks me to teach her to have sex,” You mutter, but Rosie hears you loud and clear. 

“You admit that I’m hot then?” You swear you can hear her smirking behind you. 

“Fuck off, help yourself to whatever,” You roll your eyes as she laughs. 

You don’t bother entertaining her any longer, making your way to your room. You change into something comfy—grey sweats and a white shirt. You hadn’t expected company tonight, nor had you expected having sex. It’s been about a week since, even though your ex-girlfriend messaged you about hooking up for fun the other day. You didn’t even respond, knowing that would just end up messy.

When you return to the living room, Rosie sits on your couch, legs crossed as she types away on her phone. You’d bet she was texting Jennie. 

“So how do you want to do this?” You ask awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you sit next to her. You leave a decent amount of space in between, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“I don’t know,” Rosie sighs, “Is there a way we can just ease into it?” 

“Like making out and stuff?” You’ve never spoken about sex so mechanically, that this is a first for you too. 

“I guess? I don’t really know how to start this,” Rosie says unsurely, looking away. 

“Hey,” You reach over, a finger gently tilting her chin to look at you, “There’s no pressure okay? We can just watch TV first and go from there. We literally don’t even have to do anything. As long as you’re comfortable.”

You watch her lip quiver. You hope she doesn’t cry. The last girl you made cry was Nayeon when you broke up with her.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, leaning into your hand. “Thanks again for this. I know this whole situation is awkward.” 

“Stop,” You wave dismissively, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. “It’s important to you, so I guess by default it’s important to me. Your pace,” You smile. 

When Rosie smiles back, you can feel something itch behind your rib cage. You quickly shake that away before retracting your hand. “Here,” You grab the remote, “Put something on, I’ll get us drinks.”

“Oh there’s this new Netflix reality show I want to watch,” You hear Rosie say as you walk to the kitchen. 

You didn’t have that much to offer, since you hadn’t had the time to head to the store. You do opt for a couple bottles of soju to ease both of your nerves along with water because hydration matters. You peruse your pantry and there’s a bag of unopened chips, figuring that would be good to have too. At least for yourself to keep your hands busy. 

When you return to the couch, placing the items on the coffee table, you see the opening credits of what looks like university students? 

“What’s this about?” You ask. This time, you sit closer to her, so that any shift in your leg, your knees would touch. 

Rosie goes on to explain the premise of the show, where people are about to be of legal age and how they form relationships in two different settings. She heard about the show from Lisa who binged it with Jennie in one night. 

“Is this sappy?” You pour a shot each, handing Rosie the glass. 

“Probably, but it’s wholesome,” Rosie raises the glass, “To my virginity?”

“I’m absolutely not toasting to that,” You roll your eyes, taking the shot without waiting. 

Rosie scoffs, downing the drink in one go before putting the glass on the coffee table. “You’re so annoying sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, instead choosing to pour another shot as the contestants of the show enter the classroom. You usually don’t drink this much on a weekday, but this situation warrants it. It feels surreal to be with Rosie, alone, in your apartment of all places. You couldn’t remember the last time you were willingly alone with her, but the thought of those memories were tucked away. 

“Here,” Rosie grimaces at the drink. “Just one more.” 

Rosie relents, taking the shot without making another annoying toast. You smirk before following. The liquid goes down smooth, but you feel the effects starting. Your cheeks feel warm, soothing some–not all–of the nerves. 

You lean back into the couch, throwing an arm casually over the cushion. Rosie automatically leans into you, sighing deeply before resting her head on your shoulder. 

“You smell good,” Rosie comments, snuggling deeper into your side. The compliment throws you off because she hadn’t said anything remotely nice to you in years. 

“Uh thanks,” You bring your free hand to scratch the back of your neck. Rosie doesn’t say anything else, nor do you. You settle in, letting what’s on the screen take your attention. 

The show is corny, but you understand why Rosie said it’s wholesome. The sense of innocence and pureness everyone has when it comes to relationships is something you miss. You hadn’t had that kind of outlook in years, which slightly makes you want to go into your future relationships more honest about how you feel.

But Nayeon cheating on you over a year ago left its damage on you. 

You’d never be disrespectful towards women, but you were upfront that whatever you did with them would never be serious. You couldn’t let it get too intense. Sure they’d always want more, but you couldn’t give yourself to someone like that again. 

At least not yet. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Rosie asks after a few minutes, resting her hand on your stomach. 

“Nayeon,” You say simply. 

She raises her head to look at you, “Huh, what why? Didn’t you break up like last year?”

“This show’s making me a little sentimental,” You say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Why’d you two break up anyways?” 

“What’d you hear?” You prod, curious as to what Nayeon told people. 

“According to Jennie, who heard it from Sana, Nayeon was tired of arguing,” Rosie furrows her eyebrows as she remembers what she heard. 

That’s one way to put it. 

“Ah well I guess so,” You shrug. 

“There’s more to it huh?” She's as perceptive as ever. 

“She cheated on me,” Rosie’s eyes widened. “We got into an argument about her meeting my parents. She kept pushing the issue, but you know how my parents are. She storms out and next thing you know, I’m getting a call from Jungkook to come to this party to pick up Nayeon cause she’s wasted.”

You remember that night clearly, something you wanted to very much forget. 

“I got there. I’m looking all over for her, Jungkook and Taehyung have no idea where she went. We pretty much split up looking for her, and lucky me, the first door I opened, Nayeon’s naked, on top of some guy.” 

Rosie sits up straight, crossing her legs on the cushion as she faces you. The concerned expression etched on her face has you believing she almost cares, but you don’t. 

“And she sees me, which immediately sobers her up. All I could do was nod, telling her that we’ll talk in the morning,” The memory still hurts to think about. “Nayeon, being Nayeon, followed me out, apologizing, saying it was a mistake.”

Rosie takes hold of your hand, and you let her. Letting this out feels nice since you hadn’t told anyone what happened. You told Nayeon to tell people whatever she felt was best, and you’d keep the real reason a secret. 

“Anyways, next day, we talk and she’s sorry, of course, but she just didn’t understand what the big deal was. It’s not that I didn’t love her, cause I did, but I didn’t think we were there yet for her to meet them,” You sigh, shaking your head. “But yeah we broke up. I didn’t care what she said, and I didn’t defend myself when Sana and Jihyo cornered me, calling me an ass. I just started to sleep around, which probably was the reason why I got that playboy reputation.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Rosie says quietly after a minute, the words sinking in. 

You smile sadly, “It wasn’t for anyone to know, but it’s okay. It really is. Relationships are messy, which is why I avoid any emotional connection with girls. Not because I think less of them, but because I think the least of myself in that regard.”

“Stop,” Rosie squeezes your hand, forcing you to look at her. “I don’t know how you are in relationships, but I’m sure that whoever you’re with is lucky.”

“You’re just saying that,” Self-deprecation is something you’ve mastered in the past year.

Rosie tugs your hand with enough force so your face is in front of hers. You could feel her breath against your skin, the faint smell of alcohol lingering. “Stop,” She whispers. “I’m not.”

Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the sudden confession of why you are the way you’ve been. 

You kiss her, bringing your lips to hers. You sense her freeze, but she sighs softly after a moment. It ignites a fire in your chest, wanting nothing more than her close to you. 

You pull away, leaning your forehead on hers. You open your eyes first to see hers closed. 

“Sorry, I-”

“No,” Rosie cuts you off, cupping your face before kissing you again. 

Out of pure reflex, you pull Rosie on top of you, straddling your thighs as you wrap your arms around her waist. She lets out a small oomph, which you pause, but she continues moving her lips against yours. 

You dip your tongue in between her lips, earning a moan as she threads her fingers in your hair. A shiver goes down your spine as she tugs lightly, a move that turns you on immensely. Your cock stirs as her kisses become firmer, more sure. 

Rosie’s body starts to move. It’s subtle, but her hips slightly shift, causing you to pull away, groaning. 

“Chaeng,” You pant, hands gripping her waist to steady her. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” Rosie asks softly, chest heaving as she rests her forehead on yours. 

“No,” You kiss her on the nose. “You’re doing everything right. I just have to control myself,” You let out a breath. 

“Would it be the worst thing if you lost control?” Rosie murmurs, pecking you softly on the lips. 

The question goes straight to your cock. It doesn’t help that she’s seated right on top of it that you have to remember that this isn’t about you.

Yes is what you want to say because this is still new to her, and as lame as it sounds, like you actually care about her, you do want to make this enjoyable.

“I don’t know,” You shrug, loosening your grip. “But I don’t want to rush into it. Small steps right?”

“Right,” Rosie nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So what next?” 

“Uh,” Your brain’s short circuiting because all the blood in your body seems to have rushed south. “Maybe just rock your hips and see how it feels?”

“Like this?” She gently rolls herself over you, testing the waters. 

“Is it doing anything for you?” You grit out. 

“I’m not sure, let me try again,” She rolls her body again, but with a little more pressure that she moans softly. “That did.”

It definitely did something for you because your cock stiffens at the contact. 

“Just do what feels good for you,” Your head falls back as she repeats the motion, undulating her hips over your erection. “Yeah just like that,” You sigh, guiding her movements along your length. 

All you feel is Rosie. She’s wearing leggings, but the friction over your sweats overwhelms your senses. You act on impulse, kissing her again. She returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm, grinding down. 

You didn’t think dry humping would get you this worked up, but the small moans Rosie lets out against your lips has you hoping you don’t make a mess of yourself. 

“Fuck,” Rosie moans, tearing her lips off yours as her rhythm falters. 

It leaves her neck exposed, so you trail your lips along her chin, peppering soft bites that has her gripping your shoulders tightly. 

You feel her nails digging into your skin. Her pace quickens before her body suddenly seizes, jerking on top of you, as she moans loudly.

Fuck she’s coming. 

Doing what you can to prolong her orgasm, you rock up into her, hoping you’re hitting her clit at the right angle. Her body freezes, shaking that you didn’t have the reflex to control your own body before cumming into your sweats, groaning in the crook of her neck. 

You hadn’t had a visceral response like that in years, but that was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced. The fact that Rosie got off by rubbing herself against you goes straight to your head. 

Rosie’s breathing heavily against you, playing with the hairs on your neck as you try to regulate your own breath. 

“I—fuck, I’m so sorry,” Rosie says softly, resting her butt on your thighs. 

“What?” Your voice comes out hoarse. “Why are you apologizing?” 

“I don’t know,” She buries her head into your neck. 

“That was hot,” You confess, placing a soft kiss on her neck. Her body shivers at the contact, causing you to smile.

“Really?” She sounds so unsure, that you don’t know how else to make her believe you. 

“Really,” You pull back to her, avoiding your gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a little wild, but she looks hot either way. 

Maybe it was the release of hormones after an orgasm that could be clouding your thoughts, but you find her so attractive at this moment that you want to kiss her again. 

“Did you, you know?” Rosie glances down, biting her lip. 

“Uh,” You force out a chuckle. “Yeah… Sorry about that. I should probably change.” 

“Right,” Rosie’s eyes stay looking at your crotch before she shakes her head. “Right,” She repeats and moves off your lap. 

“Give me a few and I’ll drive you home, okay?” You stand, placing a hand over the wet spot on the fabric. 

“You really don’t have to, I can call a car.”

“No,” Shaking your head, “I insist.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes,” And just like that, it’s back to normal. 

“Yeah and you used me to cum, so,” She throws a pillow at you, which you easily dodge, laughing as you walk to your room. 

--

--

Can we meet tonight? 

The words glowing on your screen as you walk out of the building, just finished your last class of the day. 

It’s been about a week since Rosie asked you. You hadn’t seen her, but she occasionally sent you articles regarding sex and if you ever experienced such things. The one that had you almost drop your phone was if you ever made a girl squirt, which you haven’t, but you explained not all girls can. 

Instead of replying back with a message, you call her. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you? We can do take away,” You offer, walking in the direction of where she might be. 

“I’m in the music building with Jennie,” You immediately turn around to go the other direction. 

“Okay I’m on the way, I’ll be there in a little,” You hang up without waiting for her to respond. You’ll probably get a slap or two, but it’s not like it matters. 

By the time you reach the music building, Rosie and Jennie are outside, talking with another person. You can’t see who it is, but as you get closer, it’s Nayeon. 

Fuck. 

It wasn’t like Nayeon and you were on bad terms. You were always polite and treated her with the same respect you would like anyone else. It would just look suspicious to be walking alone with Rosie since she always made remarks about the weird feeling she got when you were in the same vicinity. She described it as unresolved sexual tension, but it never felt like that to you. 

“Oppa,” Jennie greets, her gummy smile forming as you walk up to them. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as they dart between you and Rosie because of course she knows about the arrangement. 

“Hey,” You smile, waving awkwardly to Nayeon. 

Nayeon gives a small hi while Rosie slaps your shoulder, “That’s for hanging up on me.” 

“Okay,” You rub where she hit. “Ready to go?” You ask, reaching for Rosie’s bag without thinking. 

“Uh?” Jennie’s eyes widen while Nayeon’s narrow at the gesture. “How nice of you?” Rosie reluctantly hands over her bag. 

You don’t know what came over you because you definitely didn’t just carry a girl’s bag, which Nayeon was very aware of. She knew you only carried stuff for the girl you’re dating, something she experienced firsthand. 

“My way of saying sorry for hanging up on you,” You say smoothly. Her bag is heavy, which you hope they can’t tell you’re struggling.

“Nayeon was telling us about a party this weekend,” Jennie says. 

“It’s Mina’s birthday,” Nayeon says softly, eyes on you. “You should come if you’re free.” There’s a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Um,” You’re put on the spot, wracking your brain for any excuse, but Rosie saves you. 

“Don’t we have dinner with our parents? If we get back early enough, you could probably make it.”

You try to ignore the way Nayeon’s face falls, but you can’t ignore Jennie’s confusion since she obviously would’ve known. 

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” You play along. You hadn’t had a family dinner in months, but it was a somewhat believable excuse. “I’ll see if I can make it.” 

You listen as the girls say bye, Jennie opting to walk with Nayeon to catch up. When the two women leave, Rosie tries grabbing her bag back. 

“What’re you doing?” She huffs when you don’t let go. 

“I can carry my own bag, you know,” Rosie walks in front of you, clearly annoyed. 

“I know, but just let me do this for you.” 

“You’re most likely giving me an orgasm tonight, you’re doing enough,” Rosie rolls her eyes, attempting once again. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” 

“Fine, here,” Her comment pisses you off, but she has a point. The university playboy holding the bag of one of the most wanted girls on campus? That would surely be part of the gossip mill. You hand over the bag, a muttered thanks makes you roll your eyes. 

“You’re paying for dinner tonight,” Rosie states. 

You honestly already planned to, but you nod anyway. 

--

“Can you take your shirt off?” Rosie asks, out of breath, as you hover over her. 

“Uh yeah,” You lean back, pulling your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere to the side before bringing your lips back to hers. 

That same show plays in the background, unopened food forgotten on the coffee table. The plan was to eat then fool around, but Rosie had something else in mind. 

“Okay don’t let this get to your head,” Rosie says against your lips, in between kisses, trailing a finger over your abdomen, “But you’re actually hot.” 

The muscles flex under her touch, that you pull her body to the edge of the couch cushion, “I know,” You smirk, dipping a hand underneath her blouse. “Is this okay?” You ask. 

“More than okay,” Rosie spreads her legs wider to let you rest in between. 

You grind yourself against the apex of her thighs, thankful she wore a skirt today. She moans as it spurs you on to do it again. Mimicking the motion of thrusting in and out of her has your imagination running wild as to what it will be like when you’re actually inside her. 

“Fuck,” Rosie grips your arms as you continue the motion. “Don’t stop.” 

You won’t until she cums, and her back arches as she rolls her hips down to meet your thrusts. After one particularly hard thrust, her body tenses and bingo. 

“There?” You breathe out as you hit the same spot again. She nods, as you watch her face scrunch up. “Gonna cum for me?” 

“Yeah,” Her eyes open, gaze locked in between your legs. “Fuck, Jennie was right. You’re huge.”

As if your ego couldn’t get any bigger. You’re sure she felt just how big you were last week, but she most likely didn’t see it. It probably didn’t help that you were wearing sweats that accentuated your size. 

“Thanks,” You grunt, too focused on her pleasure and your own. 

You flip her skirt up, mouth watering at the sight of her choice in lingerie. A simple lavender thong with a small bow at the waistband has your hips rutting into her faster. 

“Fuck you’re so hot,” You bite your lip, head thrown back as she moans louder. 

“I think I’m—oh shit,” Rosie’s body tenses in your hands, back arching as her orgasm washes over her. You feel her clit pulse through your sweats that you continue grinding against her. 

You’re more composed this time and don’t prematurely cum. However, your cock hurts from not having a release. You’ll likely just suffer through it and deal with your problem after you drop her off. 

You don’t move from your position, keeping the pressure of Rosie’s cloth-covered pussy against you. You might not get to cum, but it still feels nice. After a few minutes of her regulating her breathing and you thinking of everything not related to fucking her, she smiles up at you. You return the smile, tickling her skin that she squirms in your hold. 

“Stop!” She slaps your arm. “You know I’m ticklish.” 

“I know,” You fold over, resting your head on her stomach. “Was that okay?” Her skirt hasn’t moved, and you’re trying very hard not to touch her there. 

“Yeah, that was… something,” Rosie sighs, placing her hand lazily on your head, lightly scratching. “Can you do something else since we’re already here?” 

“Sure, what?” You look up to Rosie biting her lip. 

“Can you touch me?” Rosie asks softly, adding, “Like down there?” 

Your palm twitches at the request, hell, your cock twitches too. 

“Uh, yeah,” You push yourself up, kneeling in between her legs. They try to close, but with how you’re positioned, it doesn’t go very far. “Just let me know if anything hurts, I’ll stop.”

Rosie nods, giving you the signal to do something. What you really wanted to do was find out how she tastes, but you tuck that thought away for another time. There will be a time in the future where that’ll happen. 

You reach under her skirt, gently pulling the fabric down. She kicks it away, leaving her completely bare from the waist down.

You’re fucked. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of her. Your gaze must’ve made her nervous because she quickly covers herself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” You pull back. 

“No, no,” Rosie shakes her head, crossing her legs. “I’m just nervous.”

“Hey,” You move to sit next to her. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Can we go to your room?” Rosie offers weakly, which you nod, standing, extending a hand out. She gives you a small smile, taking it before you pull her up. She stumbles a little, but you’re there to catch her. “Lead the way?” 

You guide Rosie to your room, nerves prickling at you because no woman has ever been in your room except Nayeon. You had a strict rule of sleeping with women at their place, never yours. Rosie notices your hesitation when you stand in the doorway, asking if you were okay. 

“Um, this is going to sound bad, but the last woman that was in my bed was Nayeon,” You say quietly, letting go of Rosie’s hand. 

“That’s okay?” Rosie says unsurely. “If it’s too much for you, we can go back to the couch.” 

You shake your head. It isn’t that big of a deal, you were probably overthinking it. “No, it’s okay. I just felt like telling you that,” Which was true. You wanted to tell Rosie that, even though there wasn’t a reason to. 

Rosie kisses your shoulder softly before walking around you towards your bed. She slips underneath the comforter, which you follow right after her, laying on your side as she’s on her back. 

“You okay? We don’t have to do anything else tonight,” You prop your head on your hand, staring at her as she looks at the ceiling. 

“Yeah I’m okay, more than okay. It just feels…” Rosie trails off, pouting a little as she tries to find the words. She looks pretty cute like this, but you immediately shake that thought away. You aren’t supposed to be having thoughts like that when this whole situation was transactional. “Intimate, I guess. To be in your bed like this.” 

“I suppose so.” 

“But yeah let’s keep going,” Rosie glances at you before turning to face you. “How should we…?”

A question pops into your mind, “Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“Err, yes?” 

“What does that mean?” You chuckle.

“I guess I have. I’ve never gotten off on my own though. I’ve put a finger inside myself, but it felt weird so I just stopped,” Rosie blushes, turning away. 

“Uncomfortable?” You ask softly, bringing your hand to rest on her stomach. 

“I guess? I don’t exactly know what I’m doing,” Rosie mumbles. 

“Let me, yeah?” You move so you’re sitting up, back against the headboard. “Come here, sit in between my legs.” 

Rosie complies, settling in between your legs as she lays against your chest. You kiss the crown of her head, sliding your arms around her body. 

Now this feels intimate, and oddly feels right to be with her like this. Again, you shake that feeling away, reminding yourself that this is just sex. 

A finger traces down her stomach aimlessly, hoping it relaxes her. She sighs contentedly before resting her head on your shoulder. You kiss her neck, and she giggles. 

“That tickles,” Rosie says shyly. 

“But in a good way right?” You murmur, bringing your hand lower. Her legs automatically widen and her breath hitches as you apply light pressure on her hip bone. 

“Yeah,” Rosie sighs, shifting against your cock. 

“Good. You trust me right?” You dip your hand in between her legs, resting on her pubis. Her hands find your thighs to hold on to, nodding. 

You swipe a finger in between her folds, slowly, and she’s absolutely soaked. Your cock twitches at how wet she is. You’re sure you’re leaking into the fabric of your sweats. 

“You’re wet,” You don’t recognize your voice. 

“I’m sorry?” Rosie moans as you swipe through again, gently brushing over her clit. 

“No, it’s fucking hot,” You murmur and her nails scratch at your skin. “So fucking hot.” 

You repeat the motion a few times, eliciting soft moans as she squirms against you. Your other hand carefully unbuttons her blouse, and when the last button comes undone, you cup her breast, squeezing lightly. 

“You’re being a tease,” You smirk against her skin, nipping lightly as she drops her head down. 

“Just making you feel comfortable,” You chuckle as you swipe down, dipping your index finger inside. 

“Oh shit,” Rosie throws her head back when you pull your finger out. 

Your finger circles her entrance slowly as her legs spread wider. This position isn’t the best and you’ll likely strain your wrist, but you couldn’t care less about yourself at the moment. You insert your finger in again, but this time, you don’t pull out, letting your finger rest inside her. 

You imagine your cock inside her, stretching her out. Your cock literally aches to be inside her because if this was how she felt—tight, warm, wet—you’d bust. 

“Move,” Rosie commands through gritted teeth, her hips rolling down to get more of you inside her. 

“So impatient,” You whisper, biting her skin softly. “It’s like you want me or something.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Rosie’s nails digging into your skin as you start to move. 

“You will,” Your voice comes out low, slowly moving in and out of her slick. “Not tonight,” Unfortunately, “But you will.” 

“You’re so—fuck,” Rosie chokes on her words when your palm brushes over her clit, the penetration overstimulating her. 

You smirk, freeing your hand from her chest and bringing hers under yours, “Touch yourself.”

Rosie easily obliges, rubbing her fingers over her clit as you begin pumping a smidge closer. Her pussy’s still tight, but her body’s slowly welcoming the intrusion. Based on the blissed-out expression on her face, eyes closed, she’s biting her lip. 

“Don’t be shy Rosie,” You kiss behind her ear, “Let me hear you.” 

Her eyes open, and the lust is there. She moans louder as her fingers move faster, causing you to match her pace. Your cock aches, wanting some sort of relief that your hips lightly thrust against her backside. 

“Fuck,” Is all you can say because you want to fuck Rosie, especially with how her walls are squeezing your fingers.

“Cum,” You say simply and she does.

Her body spasms, back arching as she presses her butt directly on your cock. She lets out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard, drawn out as her free hand reaches for your neck. Her walls aren’t letting your fingers move, so you opt to gently move them to prolong her orgasm.

After a minute, or two, Rosie falls limp in your hold, her arms flailing over your thighs. You slowly pull your fingers out, peering over her shoulder to see her slick. A nasty thought comes to you, and you bringing your fingers to your mouth, cleaning them to see what she tastes like, and dear fuck you want it directly from the source. 

“You’re fucking gross,” Rosie pants softly, weakly lifting her arm to swat your hand away. 

“You wanna taste yourself?” You brush your finger against her lips, and she makes a disgusted face. “Eh, if not now, later.”

Rosie tries to sit up, but she falls back into your chest, resting her head on your shoulder as you bring your arms around her stomach. You kiss her neck, murmuring, “Was that okay?” 

“It was great,” Rosie nods slowly, turning her head slightly to kiss your cheek. “Thanks for that. I see the appeal in it now.”

You chuckle, chest vibrating against her body, “Yeah sex is pretty great.” 

“I’m so tired,” Rosie yawns.

“Uh,” You’re still hard, which you hoped Rosie was too blissed out to notice. “Let me just shower first and I’ll take you home.” A cold shower was needed. You’ll probably give yourself relief when you get home, but you don’t think you’ll be able to survive the drive. 

“Okay,” Rosie yawns again, “But can we stay here for a few more minutes?” 

“Of course.”

Rosie sighs contentedly, snuggling into your chest. You typically didn’t cuddle after, but with her, it felt warranted. You wouldn’t say it felt right, but it didn’t feel wrong. You were comfortable doing this with her, and you hadn’t felt that since Nayeon. 

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Rosie. Child-you would be happy to spend time with her, but adult-you knows what this is—sex. A knot forms in your stomach at the thought, but your rational side knew you  and her weren’t ever going to be together. 

Weird, but you dismiss the feeling completely.

“I’ll give you some clothes to wear,” You offer, nuzzling your chin into her. 

“They’ll give you shit, you know that right?” Referring to her friends.

“Tell Jennie she never got anything from me,” You quip, earning a light slap on your leg. “What! She didn’t!” 

“Stop talking about my friend who you’ve slept with after you just gave me two orgasms,” You didn’t need to see her face to know she rolled her eyes. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, kissing her neck. 

Rosie laughs, a sweet airy laugh that has your heart fluttering, and you think that it’s a sound you’d want to hear more often. 

--

--

Someone ruffles your hair as you’re zoned in on finishing this expense report and you hear laughter behind you. 

“What the fuck,” You pull your headphones out to see the offender. 

Rosie. 

With Lisa right behind her. 

“Sorry,” Lisa peeks her head over Rosie, “You just looked too focused that I wanted to mess with you.” 

“What do you two want?” Your eyes narrow as Rosie smiles. It eases your irritation, but still.

“Figured we’d say hello. Chaeng saw you, but didn’t want to disturb you. I, however, did,” Lisa answers, stepping forward. There’s a shit-eating grin on her face. 

“Hey,” Rosie says softly. “I’m sorry. I told her not to.” 

“It’s okay,” You shrug, checking your watch. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, eyes darting to Rosie, who slaps the back of her head. “Ow.”

“I have a game with Yoongi in about an hour.” 

“Oh we should watch!” Lisa nudges Rosie, who rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

Rosie gives you a look, as if she’s waiting for you to invite her yourself. You smile, giving a small nod. 

“Okay fine,” Rosie sighs, shaking her head, but she smiles at you anyways. 

“Are you good oppa? I’ve seen Yoongi play, and he’s pretty good,” Lisa asks as you start to pack your stuff. 

“I guess you’ll see,” You didn’t like talking about yourself. You considered yourself decent, but there would always be someone better. 

When you finish, you decide you wanted to tease Rosie. You wait until Lisa’s a few feet away, leaning forward, “I’m usually pretty riled up after a game, so I hope you’ll come over after.” 

The blush on Rosie’s face has you grinning, which gets even wider when she gives you a small nod.

--

“I don’t get why you do that.”

“Do what?” You ask, mouth full of mandu. 

“Say you’re not good, but then score twenty points like it’s nothing.”

“So you were keeping track?” You smirk, reaching for another mandu on the table with your chopsticks. 

“No, Yoongi told me after the game,” Rosie huffs, crossing her arms as she slouches into the couch. 

“It’s okay if you did, I’m flattered you paid that much attention to me.” That earns you a slap, but you couldn’t care. You played the whole game so you were starving. 

You’re back at yours, just hanging out. You really had no intention of doing anything with Rosie tonight, even if you did tease her about being riled up. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you enjoy spending time with her as of lately. 

Lisa gave you a thumbs up when Rosie told her she’d be leaving with you. No one seemed to notice when you two walked out together, but Yoongi did text you asking where you went since the team usually went out after. 

“I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you ever feel frustrated after we you know?” 

“Uh,” The question catches you off guard. 

It’s been two days since, and you can admit it was a struggle after feeling her cum on your fingers. You thought about having sex with someone to give you some relief, but that thought had the knot in your stomach tightening. 

“Frustrated in the sense I need to release,” You answer honestly, but quickly followed up with, “But it’s not that big of a deal. I took care of it.” The tips of your ears burned at the implication.

Rosie sighs next to you, shaking her head, “Okay can I be honest?” 

“Uh of course?” 

“I feel bad,” You were about to bite into the last mandu, but you stopped. “I feel like you’re always making me feel good, but I feel like I’m doing nothing in return.”

You place the mandu back in the box, dropping your chopsticks with it. 

“Believe me you are,” The memory of Rosie’s face as her orgasm hit was something that could not be forgotten. 

“But it doesn’t feel like it!” She throws her hands up dramatically. “I haven’t even seen your you know yet.”

“Oh my god,” You chuckle. “Just say it. It’s not a bad word.” 

“Cock?”

“No.”

“Penis?”

“No.”

This conversation is getting nowhere. 

“Take it out,” Rosie says suddenly.

“Only if you say cock,” You raise an eyebrow. 

“No.”

“Then no cock for you,” You poke her nose after she huffs, hitting your leg. 

After a minute, Rosie shoves her face into your chest. She mumbles something that you can’t quite make out, asking her to repeat. 

“Cock,” Rosie says quietly, rubbing her face deeper from embarrassment. 

“Was that so hard?” You smile, kissing her head. “Do you really want me to ‘take it out’ as you so eloquently put it?” 

“Yeah,” Rosie mumbles, and you swear there’s a pout. 

“You do it,” You offer, shifting slightly to wrap an arm around her. “No pressure Chaeng. Do whatever you feel is right and if anything hurts me, I’ll tell you.”

Rosie shyly asks if you could move to your bed, which you happily oblige. You swoop her in her arms, causing her to scream and slap your chest the whole way to your room. You laugh as she curses at you, but it’s fun for you and you know she thinks it is too. 

“You’re annoying,” Rosie comments after you drop her on the bed. “Literally the most annoying person I know. How do girls put up with you?” 

“I can think of a few ways that make up for it,” You sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. 

“Arrogant too,” Rosie adds, shifting her body so she’s next to you. 

Neither of you say anything while you’re sitting. You’re trying to think of how to guide Rosie while she stares at the floor. An idea pops into your mind, as you scoot until your back is pressed against the headboard. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Seduce me,” You say simply, patting the space next to you. Her eyebrows furrow, but she’s right back next to you in no time. 

“How?” 

“We’ve done a few things together, I’m sure you could figure it out.” It wouldn’t take much to turn you on. Your control slips every time Rosie’s over that your body has a mind of its own. 

She could kiss you and you’d be hard, as embarrassing as that is.

“Um okay,” Rosie bites her lip as she looks at you. 

You smile, winking even, that makes her roll her eyes. 

Rosie leans forward, kissing you softly on the lips. You keep your hands still, but your lips move easily against hers. She lets out a small moan when you dip your tongue into her mouth. Her arms circle around your neck, pulling you closer.

The blood in your body rushes south, waking your cock as Rosie presses against you. Kissing her has become one of your favorite things even if you’ve only done less than a handful of times. As someone who has had a healthy sex life, it’s scary how easily your body reacts to her.

She detaches her lips, placing soft kisses along your jawline. You let her, relaxing into the headboard as your eyes close.

A groan escapes from your lips when Rosie places her hand over your crotch. 

“What?” She pulls back, a concerned look etched on her face. Her hand doesn’t move though. 

“Nothing, you’re doing great,” You take a breath, “Just caught me off guard.” 

Rosie makes a sound, but goes back to kissing your face. Her hand starts to move, palming your cock over your sweats.

Your body immediately reacts, hardening underneath her touch. She smirks against your neck, “Well hello.” 

You laugh, shaking your head before kissing her sweetly on her forehead, “It’s a bodily reaction, what do you expect?”

“I think your body likes me,” Rosie brings her lips to yours before sitting straight. In a swift move, she swings her leg over you, cupping your face and bringing you in a bruising kiss, not giving you a chance to answer.

You instinctively rest your hands on her waist, pulling her body flushed against yours. She lets out a moan as your grip tightens. 

You’re too lost in the kiss to notice Rosie sneaking her hand in between. Her fingers brush against the waistband of your sweats, abdomen tightening at her touch. You mumble a pathetic please because all she’s doing is riling you up. She smirks against your lips, dipping her hand to actually touch you. 

Your head’s spinning and your hips involuntarily thrust into her hand. Given the space, it’s a little tight, but Rosie’s hand wrapped around you has your control slipping faster than before. You pull your sweats down so you’re fully free.

“Is this okay?” Rosie asks in between kisses as she slowly moves her hand up and down your length.

“Fuck yes,” You groan, detaching your lips from hers as your head falls backs. 

Her hand’s soft, velvet-like, as she strokes you. You’re almost scared to look down because you feel yourself leaking as she cups the tip. She tentatively spreads it over you, that it’s making you lose your mind. 

You open your eyes to Rosie intently staring at her ministrations, her tongue slightly peaking out. 

“You can squeeze a little, but—ow shit!” Your hand shoots out, holding her wrist as you gasp. 

“Oh my god,” Rosie automatically lets go, “I’m so sorry!” 

You cough, catching your breath. You’re already sensitive, but it felt like Rosie was about to rip your dick off. “I’m fine,” You cough again, “Just a little lighter.” 

“Sorry,” Rosie mumbles, looking away. 

You place your hand over hers, together enclosing over your cock. “Like this,” You slowly move her hand under yours, applying enough pressure. Her hand’s smaller than yours, so she can’t completely fit around your girth. 

“How does it feel?” Rosie asks softly. 

“Good,” You nod, eyes rolling back as you let go of her hand. “So good.” 

Rosie experiments with her grip and pace for a while, going faster at times while squeezing the right amount that has you seeing stars. You’re too focused on her hand that you don’t notice her move off your lap. 

Something warm envelopes your cock and your eyes shoot open to Rosie’s mouth around the head. 

“Fuck,” You grip the bedsheet, nearly tearing it off. “Give me a warning next time,” You moan. 

“Sorry,” Your cock fucking pops out of her mouth as she continues to stroke you, “It seemed warranted. Too much?” 

“Not enough,” Your abdomen tenses as she engulfs you again, going farther down your length. 

Her tongue licks your tip as you watch her cheeks hollow out. You're mesmerized as she moves her head up and down your length, and each time she gets lower. 

“Has anyone ever deepthroated you?” Rosie asks, catching her breath, but her hands don’t remain idle. 

“Uh,” You barely hear her question, “I don’t know,” You couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else at the moment, but if she wants to try, you’ll let her. 

“Can I try?” Rosie places a sweet kiss on the tip, making a face as a smidge of precum gets on her lip. 

“By all means,” Your eyes roll back. Your hand itches to hold onto her head, but you’re scared of forcing her to take more than she can. 

Rosie’s lips are around you once again, and the tip hits the back of her throat. There’s a sharp inhale, and you’re not sure if it’s from her or you, but that doesn’t deter her. 

“Chaeng,” You grit out and your hand moves to the back of her head, threading your fingers in her hair. You don’t push down, but her throat relaxes and takes you all the way. “Fuck,” Your fingers fist through her locks, keeping her there until her finger taps on your thigh. 

You immediately let go, and she comes off your cock, a slight dribble of drool on her chin. 

“How was that?” Rosie smirks. 

“Either make me cum or fuck off,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her that she doesn’t reply, instead taking you down her throat once more, swallowing around your length that you cum without warning. 

You try to pull her off as your release shoots down her throat, but she’s adamant to take all of you. Your eyes roll back when she swallows, the pressure becoming too much as your hips thrust up into her mouth. 

Rosie’s mouth is dangerous, and you’re thanking whatever deity for her skills. You’ve had your fair share of blow jobs, but she’s number one in your book. You’re definitely never going to tell her because practice makes perfect, and you know she’s a perfectionist. It might be a little selfish, but you’ll gladly be willing to take whatever she gives you until this is over. 

Once your orgasm and she’s drained you for all that you’ve had, your hand relaxes, dropping to the side. She slowly comes off your cock, overly sensitive, but she licks the underside and that has your head spinning. 

“So,” Rosie sits in between your legs, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, “How was I?”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you weakly get out, “There’s always room for improvement.”

“Really?” Rosie raises an eyebrow, eyeing your now-soft cock. “I drained you in less than fifteen minutes.” 

“I’ve been pent up,” You mumble, eyes closing. “I blame you.”

“Just admit you think I’m hot,” Rosie’s suddenly hovering over you, hair tickling your face. 

“Move your hair,” You try to push her off, but you’re bone dead. Playing a game followed by this has your body exhausted. 

“Admit it,” Rosie kisses your lips, a slight tang on them. “I did,” She adds. 

You groan, wrapping an arm around her so she’s fully on top of you, “Why do you need to hear that?” You know she knows you think so. 

“Cause,” She kisses you again, leaving her lips on yours.

“Cause what?” You sigh, lazily moving your lips against hers. 

Rosie’s tongue dips into your mouth, short circuiting your brain before murmuring, “Cause it’s you.”

Your eyes feel heavy, wanting to pass out and you actually might. Something washes over you before your body shuts down. You don’t know why, but you tell her, “You’re not hot, you’re beautiful,” before sleep takes over completely.

(You wake up a few hours later, alone, but not without a note on your nightstand, groaning at Rosie’s cursive— 

Thanks handsome guy <3 see you around. 

ps I called a car, and before you beat yourself up, it’s okay)

--

--

It’s stupid. 

You’re stupid. 

A fool, some might say.

You’re calling yourself a fool. 

What compels you to be at Rosie’s apartment door, waiting, holding a bouquet of roses, without even asking if she’s home, is beyond you. 

It’s a risky move, the longer you wait for her—or anyone for that matter—to open the door. 

You immediately felt guilty waking up to Rosie’s note. You didn’t even return the favor, and you’ve been wanting to. In your mind, showing up at her place, uninvited, with flowers, was a way to make it up to her before asking if she wanted to come over so you could thoroughly make it up to her. 

The door swings open and it’s Lisa, clothes wrinkled and hair all over the place. You don’t comment on it because you know something’s going on between her and Jennie, but it wasn’t your place to ask. Instead you ask, “Hey, sorry to bother, but is Rosie in?” 

Lisa smiles, and your face falls, the answer doesn’t need to be said, but she invites you in anyways. 

You don’t know why you just don’t leave, but you enter their apartment, slipping off your shoes while awkwardly holding the flowers. 

“Here, let me take those.” They’re out of your hands before you could respond. “Make yourself at home.”

You’ve been here a handful of times, mostly when there was a party or someone needed a ride home, but it feels off being here. 

Or does it feel that way because she wasn’t here? 

You follow Lisa to the living room, seeing Jennie seated on the couch in the same disheveled appearance. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s you here, but she doesn’t say anything except for a polite hello. 

Neither of the women say anything, but Lisa prepares the flowers in the vase. You stare at the coffee table, trying to find any words to explain why you’re here. 

“So what brings you here?” Jennie asks a question she knows the answer to. 

“Uh, I thought Rosie would be in,” You answer, scratching the back of your head. You notice the silent exchange between the two, but the sad smile that forms on Jennie’s face says enough. 

“She’s out at the moment,” Jennie bites her lip, thinking of what to say. “She should be back in an hour or so. You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” You sigh, realizing just how stupid it was for you to show up. Your thoughts stray that she’s out with Soohyun, but that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“She’s having dinner with Soohyun,” Lisa says and you watch Jennie’s eyes narrow, rolling her eyes. 

“Lisa.”

“What? He should know,” The woman shrugs, acting as if it’s not a big deal. 

And it’s not. 

At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself. 

“Rosie can do whatever she likes,” It comes out harsher than you intended, but you’re feeling something that you don’t want to acknowledge. You stand, “I should get going. Uh, you guys can keep those. No need to tell her that’s for her. Sorry they’re not blue Jen,” You add, knowing those are her favorite. 

Jennie gives you a sympathetic smile, shaking her head, “You’re sweet, you know that right?” 

“Sure,” You shrug, walking towards the door. “Sorry to bother you both,” You bow after slipping your shoes on.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Jennie asks, meeting you by the door. 

“Yeah, it’s okay. Please don’t tell her,” There’s a fifty-fifty chance Rosie would find out, odds being Lisa telling her where the roses came from. 

“Why not? It’s sweet you brought her flowers.”

“I don’t really have a reason as to why,” You do have a reason, but you’re not sure how much Rosie shares with them. 

Jennie looks like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press you anymore, nodding. “See you at Mina’s?” 

“Maybe,” You answer vaguely, remembering that you actually have to see your parents this weekend sans the Parks. “I have a business meeting with my parents, so I doubt I’ll make it back in time.” 

“With Chaeng?” Jennie raises an eyebrow. 

“No, just me, so I’ll be in Seong-buk,” You grimace at the thought of having to sit in this, but your father’s adamant it’s good exposure for you. 

“Well I hope you can make it,” Jennie reassures, hugging you briefly before taking a step back. 

“You’ll see me if I do,” You wink. “Thanks again Jen.”

Once the door shuts, you sigh. You couldn’t believe you showed up at Rosie’s place, unannounced. What were you expecting? You’re still not entirely sure, but you’re disappointed nonetheless. It’s almost been two weeks since this arrangement started and you’re scared you’re getting attached. You’ve had longer flings and felt zero attachment to them. 

You question why it feels different, and you toy with the idea of joining Jungkook in Hongdae to remind yourself that you don’t get attached. A wave of guilt passes through you, which you’re torn on what you should do. 

“Fuck it,” You mumble to the empty hallway. 

--

You hear the door knock and pause the show you’ve been sort of watching with Rosie. You’d rather drown in the river than admit you actually like this show. 

You aren’t expecting anyone except the food delivery, so you are surprised when you open the door to see Rosie. 

“Uh hey?” You greet. One look at her and you know she’s upset based on the fire in her eyes. 

“What the fuck,” Rosie spits out. 

Great. Fucking Lisa. 

You aren’t given the chance to ask anything as she barges through the door. You turn around once the door’s shut, and she’s seething. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Why the fuck did you show up at my place?”

“Drop off flowers for Jennie and Lisa,” You answer noncommittally, crossing your arms as you lean against the door. 

“Bullshit. Tell me why,” Rosie steps forward, invading your space. Her perfume makes you dizzy, but you can’t dwell on it too much since she looks like she’s about five seconds away from ripping your head off. 

“What do you want me to say?” You deflect. You didn’t want to get into the reason why—the actual reason—that had you take the train back to yours instead of a club. 

“The fucking truth!” She throws her hands up dramatically, shaking her head. 

“I came over because I wanted to make it up to you for completely knocking out last night, happy?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the door and walking past her. 

“No, I’m not—hey! Get back here, I’m still talking to you,” Rosie’s hand encloses over your wrist. 

The move forces you to turn around, reflexively pulling her into you so that you’re face-to-face. 

“Don’t,” Your voice comes out low. “I’m being honest. Your turn now, why are you here?” 

“Because,” Rosie tries to get out of your grasp, but it’s futile. “As soon as I get home, Lisa fucking singsongs that you dropped by with flowers to see me. Then she told me she mentioned to you that I was out with Soohyun.”

You let go, dropping her hand completely before taking a step back. Hearing his name makes you sick, but you refuse to admit why. 

“How was that?” You ask, tired, because you knew what you signed up for. 

“Do you really want to know?” Rosie crosses her arms, glaring. 

“I don’t, but you’ll tell me anyway.”

“It was good. He’s funny. He’s polite, offered to pay the bill, and walked me to the door,” Each word digs at you, but you don’t let it show. “He wanted to come in to say hello to the girls, but I told him I just wanted to sleep. He asked me out again.”

“And? Is there going to be a second date?” 

“Yes,” Rosie says flatly. 

“Good, happy for you,” You hoped you sounded as detached as possible. “Now you still didn’t answer why you’re here if you ‘just wanted to sleep’?” 

“Because I’ve been fucking frustrated since last night,” Rosie sighs, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I would be, but you fucking fell asleep. I tried dealing with it myself, but that made it worse.” 

All you’re imagining is Rosie, in her bed, touching herself, which has you immediately hard. But you’re a little ticked off at the moment to fully enjoy that imagery.

“Why didn’t you ask Soohyun to help you?” It’s a low blow, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Rosie pushes you, like actually pushes you, with enough force to move. 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Rosie seethes out, turning to walk out. “I planned on coming over after the dinner for you to take care of the problem you created.”

You’re faster, grabbing her arm to pull her body flush against yours. 

“So you couldn’t cum?” You whisper. 

“Fuck you,” Rosie struggles to get out from your hold, but you have one arm securely wrapped around her waist. 

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” You murmur, “But there is something I still haven’t done.” 

“I’m mad at you,” Rosie ignores your suggestion. 

“If I do what I want to do, I promise you won’t be mad.”

“Doubtful,” Rosie pouts, relaxing into your embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” You mean it.

“I’m still mad,” She huffs, burying her face into your chest. 

“Let me make it up to you,” You tilt her head up, forcing her to look at you. “Please?” 

“Fine. On the condition I sleep over.”

You freeze, vividly remembering the rules you set in place that she wouldn’t sleep over. 

“Our rules?” 

“You broke the first one by coming over without telling me,” She reasons. 

“Do you want to spend the night?” You ask nervously. You hadn’t spent the night with a girl since Nayeon. Every time you had sex, you’d leave before they woke up, or right after. 

“Yes,” Rosie rocks on her tiptoes to kiss you briefly, wrapping her arms around your neck. “It makes things easier for us.” 

“Can I still bring you home in the morning?” You ask shyly, looking away. 

“You better,” Rosie smiles. “I’m still mad though.” 

You roll your eyes, using your strength to pick her up, wrapping her legs around your waist, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

Rosie squeals, hitting your shoulder as you carry her towards your room. “Don’t drop me!” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, as you kick the door open, “You’re fine, trust me.”

You do drop her on the bed and Rosie huffs as she sprawls out on the bed. You take in her appearance—a simple black dress that falls mid-thigh with her hair half-up. She’s beautiful, but you won’t say it out loud—even though you feel like you’ve told her. 

“You’re staring,” Rosie comments, resting on her elbows, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“Can you blame me?” You drop to your knees, pulling her towards the edge of the bed. “Do you trust me?” You ask softly, locking eyes with her.

“Yes,” And that’s all you need.

— 

You wake up slowly, yawning and stretching. Your arm hits a body, causing you to almost jump when you notice a body’s pressed to your side. You remember that Rosie stayed the night after spending a good amount of time and effort in between her legs. 

She had physically yanked you away from overstimulation, but it was worth it. The sounds she made along with how she tasted was something you wanted to do again. You barely scratched the surface, but you were addicted. 

You had to give her credit because she came three times. You tried to go for a fourth, but she mustered enough strength to kick you away. You wouldn’t let up until she wasn’t mad anymore. By the second orgasm, she wasn’t, but you had to make sure. 

When you were done, cleaning up the mess you made, you kissed her softly as she laid limply on the bed. “Thanks,” She mumbled, sighing contentedly as she played with the hairs on the back of your neck. “I’m not mad at you anymore.” 

“I know,” You smirked, kissing her again before laying your head on the pillow. 

Rosie wanted to return the favor, but you shook your head, embarrassed to share that you were touching yourself while eating her out. She found out anyway because you couldn’t lie to her. It went straight to her head, teasing you that you couldn’t help yourself. She kissed the pout away before falling asleep. 

You check the clock on your nightstand, “Fuck,” You mutter, stirring Rosie awake. 

“What’s wrong?” Rosie’s voice comes out hoarse, slightly turning her body. 

It’s almost noon, and you haven’t finished looking over the reports and proposals your father sent over last night. 

“I’m so sorry,” You sit up, shaking your head in frustration. “I would make you breakfast, but I have to review some things for tonight.” 

“What’s tonight?” You watch her rub her eyes, and you can’t help but think how cute she is. 

“I have a business dinner with my parents.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” You trail off. 

“Do you want me to go with you? I’d just have to stop by my place to change, but I can go,” Rosie offers, turning as she pulls the blanket over her. 

Your heart flutters. If there’s anyone that knows your parents, it’s Rosie. She’s known them since you were kids, seeing just how much pressure was put on you being their only child. It sucked a lot when things changed, but you couldn’t dwell on it that much. You were just trying to appease what they wanted, even though you knew it would never be enough. 

“Alice is home too,” Rosie adds when you don’t respond. “I can just hang out with her until you’re done.” 

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to impose on her plans for the day. 

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” Rosie sits up, the blanket falling slightly down her body. You glance and remember she was wearing one of your shirts that was a little too big on her. “Mina’s party is later, so we could go after if you need to blow off steam.”

“We’ll see how I feel,” You scoff, knowing exactly how you’d feel after. “But thanks Chaeng, it means a lot.” 

“Eh, I know how they are, so,” Rosie shrugs, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. She rests her head on your shoulder, laying an arm along your stomach. “I’m sorry it hasn’t gotten any better.” 

“It’s okay,” You say a little too quickly, but she doesn’t press the issue, snuggling deeper into your side. “Thanks,” You mumble. 

“You could always do whatever you want, they’d come around,” Rosie suggests, tracing a finger up and down your abdomen. 

“Yeah, like being a photographer would make enough money for them. They’d see it as a hobby, which it is, not as a career,” You say bitterly, shaking your head at the memory of when you suggested it that one time. 

“Well you could always take pictures of me, and you know, I know people in fashion that could see your portfolio.”

“Chaeng, you’ve done enough for me,” You’re shocked that she’d even offer this. You knew that she had connections, but she worked hard for those. It would feel wrong to actually take her up on it. 

“You’ve also done enough for me,” She pokes your cheek. “Just think about it, the offer’s there.”

You don’t know what to say. You deflect with humor and sarcasm because it’s what you know, especially with her, “Careful, it sounds like you actually like me or something.”

“Oh fuck off,” Rosie slaps your chest, giggling. 

She doesn’t confirm or deny it. You’re left wondering if she ever could. 

--

The car’s silent except for the music Rosie asked—demanded—to play, connecting her phone before you could say yes. You’re on your way back to the city, finished with the business meeting with your parents and some overseas executive who brought his daughter too. 

You were completely blindsided. It was a business meeting disguised as a fucking introduction to a ‘potential’ wife that your parents shamelessly arranged on your behalf. You weren’t that much of an ass to be completely rude to the girl—Kazuha—who also didn’t want to be there. She flat out told you what the meeting was, which you appreciated her honesty.

Nakamura Kazuha was pretty, an innocent air around her that would have you interested if it was under normal circumstances. Your parents coincidentally left you alone for a bit to get to know each other, and she seemed like a great person. She was shy, but polite. She was funny, in a quiet sort of way where you had to be paying attention. 

Kazuha told you she had a boyfriend that she wanted to be with; however, her parents didn’t approve. It was a point of contention because it wasn’t like Satoshi was a bad person, he just didn’t meet the standards they had—in other words, not wealthy.

You shared that same sentiment, explaining your last relationship with Nayeon and how she was a great person, but you knew your parents would never approve. 

“Who was that girl you dropped off?” Kazuha asked once dinner was over. Your parents off to the wine cellar. 

What? 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Kazuha smiled. “We arrived the same time you did and I saw you walk a girl to the house next door.”

“Oh uh that’s Rosie,” You answered vaguely. 

“She’s pretty. Are you two dating?” 

“What? No, she’s just a friend,” You rushed out, but Kazuha wasn’t dumb. She could tell that you weren’t just friends. 

“Interesting. I don’t know many guys who walk friends to the door, but,” She shrugged, “It’s none of my business. That’s sweet of you though.” 

When you only nodded, she smiled again, moving on to talk about other things. The thought of her observation struck a chord, causing you to dwell on it for the rest of the evening. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rosie’s voice cuts through your thoughts. 

“Do you want to hear about it?” 

“I do,” Rosie nods in your periphery. 

You tell her everything. 

How the meeting wasn’t actually business for your parents. How they purposely set you and Kazuha up. How your father tricked you into preparing for something that was already signed. How your mother boldly asked when you and Kazuha would see each other next—when she lived in another country. How you were pissed and irritated and upset. How you were just tired of it. 

“I mean, fuck, at this rate, I might as well just go along with it because every single choice is made for me,” You hit the wheel while stopped at a redlight. 

“Hey,” Rosie coos, reaching for your hand, the tension melting away from your touch. “Don’t say that.”

“Well it’s not like I have any other fucking choice, unless I end up with someone who’s as rich or richer than my family, they’ll never approve. I’m literally setting up my future wife for a lifetime of disapproval. Look at Minjun, his wife hardly even attends family gatherings,” You scoff. 

You saw firsthand how your cousin’s marriage was affected by someone your family deemed ‘not good enough’. You also admired how Minjun stayed with his wife when everyone, even you, said not too because it wasn’t worth the headache. 

Rosie tugs your hand to look at her, a sad smile etched on her face, “Well then you just haven’t met that somebody yet.”

“How can I when I’m literally getting put into arranged marriages at this point?” You sigh, tired from the dinner. 

“You will, I’m sure of it,” She squeezes your hand, interlacing your fingers together. “You’re smart. You’re kind. And don’t let it get to your head, but you are good-looking. Anyone who gets to be with you would be lucky.” 

Your ears burn from her compliments. The comment of your looks does go to your head, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. 

“Thanks,” You mumble shyly, looking away as you start driving. 

“Are we going to Mina’s?” Rosie asks, keeping your hand on her lap. 

The use of we has you confused. 

“Uh, I was just going to drop you off and stay in. I don’t feel very social anymore. I’m still worked up,” You roll your eyes, turning right onto Mina’s street. 

Rosie squeezes your hand, her thumb rubbing your skin, “Are you sure? It could help you get your mind off things.”

“The only thing that would get my mind off anything is I fuck someone,” You say crassly. 

“I’m right here,” Rosie lets go of your hand, huffing.

“Yeah but I have a bit of aggression at the moment. I can’t exactly take you roughly,” You pull up to the curb, a few houses down from Mina’s. 

“And why not?” Rosie unbuckles her seat belt, crossing her legs on the seat to face you. 

“You think really low of me if I’d have your first time be like that,” You reason, rolling your shoulders as you shut the car off. 

Could you imagine taking Rosie roughly? Absolutely. You know how flexible she is, and you could have fun with her body if she gives you enough time with her. You wanted to prolong this arrangement because time’s running out. You weren’t sure if it would be a one and done type of thing, but you didn’t want to ask. 

“I don’t,” Rosie scoffs, leaning forward to kiss you softly on the cheek. “But I hope we’ll get there.” 

The kiss sends a shiver down your spine, melting into the car seat. You turn to kiss her on the lips, a simple peck that she deepens, pulling you into her that has your body on fire. 

“Can I convince you to stay?” Rosie murmurs, sneaking a hand to your slacks. She palms you through the fabric, causing you to groan against her lips. “I think I can.” Her hand deftly lowers the zipper. 

“Chaeng,” You tear away your lips, head falling back on the headrest as you watch her take your cock out. 

“Yeah?” Rosie moves over the center console, dropping her head. 

“We’re in public,” Your voice comes out hoarse as her head goes lower, tongue slipping out to lick your tip. 

“It’s dark,” Rosie kisses your cock, “Better be quick then.”

In a swift move, Rosie’s mouth encloses over you and you’re a goner. 

--

You laugh at the nonsense Jungkook says in an attempt to distract the pair across the table from missing the shot. It works, and you’re one cup away from winning again.

You feel lighter than you did an hour ago. All thanks to the woman who happens to be sitting very closely to the man she’s interested in. Although, you’re trying your best not to dwell on the sinking feeling in your stomach every time you glance her way. 

“Dude you got it,” You nod to Jungkook who’s a bit drunk, but he swears his coordination gets better the more he drinks. 

Your best friend smirks, winking at the other team before smoothly tossing the ball and it falling perfectly into the lone cup. 

“And that’s game,” Jungkook puffs his chest out while the other two roll their eyes. “Who’s next?” 

“Take Yoongi for this round, I need some air,” You say without waiting for his response. You walk off to the kitchen, grabbing a beer before you make your way to the backyard. 

A few people stop you, mostly girls, asking what you’re doing after. You give a noncommittal answer because you would like to leave with Rosie, but the odds of that happening are low. 

The cool air hits your lungs and you let out a breath. A much needed one with the amount of people that are inside. There’s a few people, but they’re all in their own conversations, not paying you any mind. 

You find an unoccupied couch, deciding to sit alone before Jungkook finds you. You’re not drunk, but you’re not sober either. You’re in that limbo of a few more drinks might put you over the edge. 

Your mind vividly replays Rosie ‘convincing’ you to stay. She didn’t need to do much to get you to cum, but she did well to get you there in less than five minutes. You were almost tempted to say fuck the party and head back to yours, but after she swallowed you for all you had to give, she patted your head and said it was time to go inside. 

“Can I sit with you?” A voice immediately brings you out of your thoughts, your gaze falling on your ex-girlfriend. 

“Sure,” You scoot over, making some room on the couch. 

You take a sip of your beer, letting the bitter liquid sit in your mouth as you gather your thoughts. It wasn’t that it was hard to be around Nayeon, it was just awkward. You two were cordial, and you knew–thanks to Sana–that she wanted to get back together. You tried avoiding her, but running in the same social circle made it difficult. 

“How’s your night?” Nayeon asks after a few minutes. 

“It’s good,” You answer politely. “How about yours?” 

“Same.”

The noise from the house fills the silence when neither of you say anything else. 

You were with Nayeon for almost two years, and there was never a lull in the conversation. She would either be asking you a million questions or she would be telling you about her day in great detail. You tried to be friends with her after you broke up, but you didn’t think it was worth it. 

“How are you and Chaeyoung?” Nayeon asks nonchalantly that you pause mid-sip. 

“What’s there to know?” You finish your beer, placing the glass bottle on the table. 

Nayeon shrugs, sipping her wine, “I saw you two walk in together.” 

“We had dinner with our parents,” You lie, but it was more a half-lie since you actually did have dinner with your parents, just separately. 

Nayeon makes a humming sound before saying, “Your relationship with her was always interesting to me.” When you don’t ask what she means–she’ll tell you anyways–she continues, “I knew you two quote unquote hated each other, but regardless of that, there was always something that made me think you, or her, might’ve had feelings.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Nayeon?” You sigh. The way this conversation was going instantly killed your mood. 

“It’s hard to explain,” Nayeon shrugs, taking another sip. “But she likes Soohyun right? Or they’ve gone out together.” 

“I don’t know who Rosie likes, and it’s honestly none of my business,” You were getting irritated, especially since his name was now in the conversation. 

“I’m not saying it is your business, but all I’m saying is to be careful. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“That’s rich coming from you,” You snap. “You literally fucking cheated on me over an argument.” 

“You don’t think I regret that?” Nayeon’s voice cracks. “I’ve regretted that ever since.” 

“It’s too fucking late for that Nayeon, I don’t want to hear it,” You stand, blood boiling. “I’m fucking over this.” 

First the dinner with your parents, now this. You didn’t want to rehash the past with Nayeon. It was over. You got cheated on by a girl who was your first serious relationship, someone you loved, and thought about a future with. Then said-girl was telling you to be careful with Rosie, of all people. 

You knew what you were doing with Rosie, but for Nayeon to say what she said struck a chord.

Why? 

That was something you weren’t ready to admit. 

You walk away from Nayeon, leaving her alone. As soon as you enter the house, Jungkook calls you over, but you beeline for the front door without a second glance at Rosie. 

(But if you did, you would’ve seen her stand up from her seat next to Soohyun.) 

“Hey!” Rosie calls out to you. You don’t turn around, your pace picks up. “Hey, what the fuck happened?” Her hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you as soon as you reach your car. 

“Nothing,” You pull your hand away, jaw clenching as you try to compose yourself. 

“That’s a fucking lie.” 

You turn around, eyes glaring to the same expression, “Just let me be. I don’t want to deal with anyone else tonight.” 

“Too fucking bad, I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what happened,” Rosie crosses her arms. “I also have your fucking keys dumbass.” 

Fuck. 

“Give them to me,” You reach around her, knowing she put it in her back pocket, but she was faster. She took the keys out of her pocket, holding it up in front of your face. “Chaeng.” 

“You’re not fucking driving in this state. You’ve been drinking and you’re obviously pissed for whatever reason. I’m calling us a car and we’ll get yours in the morning. Don’t fucking fight with me about this,” Rosie glares, raising her chin defiantly. 

“Fine,” You roll your eyes, leaning against your car. 

You watch Rosie pull her phone out, calling a car or whatever. The alcohol was catching up to you. You close your eyes, trying to calm your nerves because you were still pissed off. You shouldn’t have taken it out on Rosie, but you weren’t expecting to see her for the rest of the night. 

You feel arms wrap around your back, Rosie’s perfume suddenly invading your senses, as she rests her head on your chest. 

“Let’s just sleep tonight okay?” Rosie whispers against your chest. “You’ve had a long day.” 

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, realizing your mistake. 

“Don’t be,” Rosie’s hand finds its way underneath your shirt, soothingly rubbing your lower back. 

“What about Soohyun?” You ask, doing your best to not sound like you were watching her. 

“He’s not relevant right now,” Rosie says softly, looping her fingers through your belt loop. “I’ll talk to him this weekend.” 

It annoys you a little bit, but you can’t help but think you’ve won some non-existent, one-sided competition with Soohyun. Rosie’s leaving with you and not him. 

You’re treading a thin line, crossing into dangerous territory. You’re hoping that once you have sex, all these feelings and thoughts that have been plaguing your mind will vanish. 

Because getting involved with Rosie was never on your mind. 

--

--

--

(It was way too long to fit in one post -_-)

[lilislegacy]

if you’re ever having an argument with someone who’s saying that book percy jackson is not a conventionally attractive person, i have the only quote you need.

(i am talking strictly about older book percy, like 17+ percy, but most quotes below describe him at at age 16 and some under)

if nothing is enough to prove to them that percy is attractive…

if annabeth’s huge crush on him from day 1, her saying “he’s good looking” in the demigod files, her constantly saying he’s adorable and has beautiful eyes, isn’t enough for them…

if percy being one of very few heroes sent to calypso’s island, amongst only the greatest heroes, because he’s someone who calypso “can’t help falling in love with”, and when he’s surprised she falls in love with him, calypso says “if you could see your face… of course you.” if that isn’t enough for them…

if nico falling fast and hard for him at a young age, i mean percy was literally his gay awakening, and older nico even calling him “cute” to his face after he’s over his crush, isn’t enough for them…

if piper calling him “cute in a scruffy way” isn’t enough for them…

if rachel badly wanting to date him after not even knowing him long isn’t enough for them…

if reyna, with her standards, immediately making a move on him isn’t enough for them…

if leo referring to percy as a “handsome” guy in HoH, not to mention how intimidated by and jealous of percy he is, isn’t enough for them…

if hazel saying she thought he was a “god in disguise” when she first met him, saying he has an “aura of power” and the “good looks of a roman god,” isn’t enough for them…

if little meg immediately getting a crush on him isn’t enough for them…

if kinzie, one of the amazons, cornering him and then telling him “if you ever need a new girlfriend… well, i think you’d look great in an iron collar and an orange jumpsuit,” (a line i personally found to be… a very adult thing for rick to write lol) isn’t enough for them…

anyway, if somehow they can’t take a hint, and none of that is enough for them

then this is all you need

what is apollo the god of? many things. the sun, light, poetry, music, etc. he’s associated with things of beauty. he’s attracted to true beauty. he admits it many time in his series. apollo is arrogant and full of himself, especially at the beginning of his series. hes extremely judgmental of people’s physical appearances. he will flat out call someone ugly just because they’re not conventionally beautiful. he calls any acne ugly. a little bit of tummy flab is horrendous. his standard of beauty is impossibly high. but guess who he calls attractive? i think you know what’s coming

ladies and gents, i give you a quote form the trials of apollo, book one, the hidden oracle

if APOLLO, with the absolute harshest and most brutal judgement of people’s attractiveness, says that percy is a man of handsome features - not “okay” or “somewhat attractive” but HANDSOME - there is no denying that he is a conventionally attractive character. book percy jackson is, canonically, a very good looking guy.

feel free to comment any quotes about him that i forgot to include :)

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

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