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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Underneath The Strobe Light

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

3K notes · View notes

roosterr · 9 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

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peachesofteal · 3 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Seven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.8k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Brief suggestive content, sex dream. Mentions of domestic violence, stalking. Hospital setting, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Mentions of stress and weight loss. Soft dads. Little bit of flirting. Simon is... Simon. You get caught in a spell.

Johnny knows this is a dream.

It’s an odd thing, to be conscious of it, to know you’re dreaming but still unable to control your actions. It’s like watching a movie of yourself, but also being yourself, directing your body without having a say in what it’s doing.

He knows this is a dream, because you’re in it. You’re in their home, in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, boy shorts rucked up over the little lightning bolts that arc across your hips, the underside of your cheeks. You’re smiling at him too, like you belong in there, like it’s yours too, and his heart swells, growing to a preposterous size.

“There’s my bunny.” He pulls you into his chest, mouthing up your neck and over your jaw. Your skin tastes like sugar, and when he gets to your lips, his hands shift, sliding down your back to grab two fistfuls of your ass with a groan. “Missed ye.”

“We missed you too.” His fingers trace the edge of your panty line, barely dipping into where you drip for him. “Come to bed, Si’s waiting.” You whisper, stifling a moan.

“Johnny.” Simon calls him, too loudly. He wants to hiss, snap at him about not waking the baby. “Johnny!”

His eyes blink open. White ceiling stares back at him, and he turns his head, finding Simon with a bemused look on his face.

“I was havin’ a great dream.” Johnny grumbles, latching onto him. Simon scoots closer, lifting the back of his hand to his lips with a secretive smile, dotting kisses down to his wrist.

“I know.”

“- and he has access privileges, as long he’s not interfering with care, he’s allowed to be in the room whenever he deems fit. Obviously, in cases where he shouldn’t be, like burn debridement, he’s fine with stepping out, but you should expect him to sleep here.” The nurse nods, nervously peeking over your shoulder at Simon, who’s lurking in the hallway, staring through the glass at the transport techs getting Johnny settled in his room. You catch her eyes, motioning to redirect her attention, and she mumbles a meek apology. “They have a daughter, who Johnny has been mostly separated from since he got here, and he’s hoping to see her often, since she’ll be allowed to visit more freely now. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay.” Her toes tap against linoleum, weight shifting from foot to foot, and you resist the urge to sprint back to her boss and demand someone else. Fuck. Why does Nora have to be on maternity leave?

“This is my favorite patient.” You warn her instead, dropping your voice low, pitching it brazenly serious. “I don’t ever want to see him back upstairs again, and that’s going to depend a lot on you.”

“Okay, okay.” Her work phone rings, and you jerk your head in dismissal, not quite finished, but not seeing a need to continue to harangue her, either.

Simon glances at you from down the hall, head turning once you’re alone. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t call to you, or say your name, but you’re helpless to the magnetic yank of his presence, a beam of gravity dragging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder, looking into Johnny’s room. He’s asleep, dark lashes feathered against his cheeks, blissed out and nearly snoring. “This will be great.” You say quietly. “He can see Penny almost as much as he wants down here. There are far less restrictions, and he’s doing so well, there’s nothing to worry about it.” He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the x-ray vision that peels you open. Like he’s digging around in your head again.

“D’you have a minute?” You blink at him, graceful words dried out and missing.

“Uh, I… yeah, I’m technically off now so. Sure?”

“Have a tea with me? I’ll meet you outside the café, on the patio. Ten minutes alright?” Have a… have a tea with him?

His eyes are heavy. They’re lasered, locked onto yours, brows knitted together in something soft, some form of emotion that you don’t understand, framing his face above the mask. How can you say no?

“Okay, sure. Ten minutes.” You try to hide how your hands shake, tucking fingernail to palm, squeezing tight.

It doesn’t escape him.

You grow more afraid with each day, that nothing does.

The paper cup cradled in Simon’s outstretched grip is like every other paper cup you’ve seen before, drank from a thousand times, with steam wafting from its rim and aromatics spilling out into the air. “Sorry.” You blurt, reaching. His fingers brush against yours, warm contact momentarily stunning you. ‘Thanks.” You lift the tea to your nose, inhaling deeply.

Irish breakfast. With milk. Your favorite.

“How do you know what tea I drink?” You don’t mean for it to sound so suspicious, or aggressive, but it does. It’s nearly accusatory, but doesn’t affect him. He merely shrugs in response.

“I pay attention.” An engine turns over in the carpark, a small car sweeping across the lot as it turns out onto the street. You watch, feigning mild interest, trying to get a closer look at the driver without appearing too fixated. “So.” He sips, and then removes the lid, vapor rising from the top in a delicate little dance. “How long have you been at Addenbrooke’s?”

“A few years.” The answer is effortlessly supplied, like you’re under a spell. Your eyes go round. What are you doing? Crow’s feet crinkle at the corners of his own, and you manage a shaky smile.

“What brought you across the pond?” He jokes, velvet, soothing lilt in his voice.

“Work.” It’s easy to lie about this, the fabrication usually used in casual conversation almost every day with patients and new coworkers, people who are interested in you being from somewhere else, having a different accent, different education, customs, the whole lot. His jaw moves behind the mask, and before he can push the question further, you rush out your own interruption. “Simon, I want… I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” He nods. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… the other night Johnny said something about,” Your face is nearly scalding, embarrassment laden lump stuck in the back of your throat. “about you and him, and… me, I guess…” you trail off, eyes darting down into the tea.

“Go on?”

“He said that you guys think I’m special, and you- you said-“

“That we’re here for you.” He finishes, nonchalant.

“Right.” You breathe a little easier, knowing he knows what you’re talking about, words picking up steam. “I want you to know that it’s totally normal to feel this way. It happens a lot, you know. Patients and, or their family members, loved ones, they get attached. This affection starts to happen towards a member of the care team because we become that person who… provides care, twenty-four seven. So, you and… and Johnny, feeling like you have this attachment towards me, it’s very normal. Not a big deal.” You finish in one big breath, cutting your ramble short. His cheeks swell behind the fabric, like he’s smiling, eyes squinting again.

“That’s not what this is.” That’s not… what this is? What does that mean?

“What?”

“Transference. That’s not what is happening here.”

“How do you…”

“I’ve had years of therapy.” He sighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” Say yes, the girl in your head screams. Tell him you need it all to stop. That you don’t like them, that it’s inappropriate. You know how this will end.

“No.” You don’t know why you don’t acquiesce to your own good sense, why you ignore the very clear boundaries and rules that have kept you alive this long.

“Bunny, I need you tell me, honestly, if you are uncomfortable.” He levels you with an intense look, seriousness bleeding from his irises to yours. You press your palms flat on the table, quelling their trembling.

“It’s not… it’s not you. Or Johnny.” You whisper, eyes slipping shut. It’s easier that way, to just close them, to hide. To pretend you’re somewhere else, to block everything out.

What the fuck are you doing right now? Your brain screams, but your heart wails.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected?

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice is low, calming, and when you don’t answer, one of his hands folds over yours. “are you with me?”

“Yes.” You peek at him, and then fully let yourself look around, steadying the rancid fear that permeates through your body. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He hums, hand still over yours. It’s warm, and broad, big thumb stroking a slow circle into your skin. “Is today your Friday?” You nod.

“It is, yeah. I’m… I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.” He straightens in the chair, shoulders and torso so unbelievably wide, like a long forgotten mythological god. Or the trunk of a massive tree.

“Will you have dinner with us, tonight?” The last of the orange red dawn spills over the crest of the buildings, and the world spins, cold sweat breaking out down your back.

“What?”

“Dinner, with us. I’m picking up takeaway for Johnny from his favorite place as a celebration, for graduating the ICU. We’d love to spend some time with you. Get to know you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I…” Say no, you have to say no, shut this down. It’s too much risk.

“No pressure. Just, hanging out, talking. As friends, if you like.” Butterflies thrash in your stomach so violently your knees bounce, and your heart leaps, pitching itself off a cliff like it wants to die.

“Okay.”

“Great. I can pick you u-“

“No! No, I’m fine. I have some errands to run after I get up for the day so, I’ll just meet you here.” It will be just like going to work. No harm, no foul. You can hang out with them, and go home, just like you’re at work. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t.

You barely sleep. You pace, you nap, you thumb through endless craigslist listings in faraway cities for apartments, you read. You take the long way through the city back to your flat and slowly sift through pieces of your life that you want to keep. Your quilt from home, that’s been tucked away on a shelf. A sentimental trinket that belonged to your mom, also hidden in a drawer. These things that can be removed, without being noticed.

Not that it matters.

He hasn’t been here. Not since the sick shit he pulled with your underwear. It makes you curious when you inspect the undisturbed tape on the back side of the door, the light dusting of baking powder on the bedroom carpet, but not surprised.

It’s not unlike him, to make himself known and then suddenly disappear, the endless mind games partially intentional, and partially something not even he can control.

After all, duty calls.

He could still be in the city. He could still be watching. You don’t know anything for sure.

“Three things you cannot outrun in this world, babe. Death, taxes, and… me.” You mumble it to yourself, the same words that live in your head, in his voice, repeated, pulling a pair of scrubs from your dresser.

But you had been running, and still had your life to show for it.

It doesn’t matter, you know how this will end.

You’ve changed your clothes five times. You hem and haw in front of the mirror, trying not to look too closely at any one piece of yourself, switching shirt and pant combos until you finally settle on your usual, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They’re high waisted, because low rise is not even within the realm of possibility for your hips, and you appreciate how they fit, even if they may sit a little loose right now, given your recent stress levels.

You look fine, you decide. You look professional. You don’t really look attractive, in any way, but the scars on your torso are hidden, and with a little bit of make-up, you think you look presentable. At the very least, you don’t look like you’re half asleep, which is exactly how you feel.

Not like it matters, you chide. This isn’t a thing; it’s just hanging out. You’re going to put an end to this entire charade, tonight.

The train is quiet, and you’re extra watchful. Every face, every movement is logged, every jacket or hat or hood is inspected. Posture, skin tone, height, of every person you pass or see is tabulated and run through your mind. Your brain, a supercomputer in its own right, does it all, seamlessly. It wants to protect you, it keeps you on guard, it can look at a crowd of twenty people all facing the opposite direction and locate a potential threat, just by the shape of the shoulders.

You don’t see him, you don’t feel him, your skin doesn’t prickle, and you let the lack thereof bring you peace, if only for a few moments.

Johnny’s floor is bustling. You wave hi to those you know, checking in with his nurse for a moment, letting her know you’ll be hanging out for a bit. She doesn’t even bat an eye, thankfully, and you try to settle yourself as you turn down the hall.

You’re not prepared for what you find when you knock on his door and slide it open, breath catching for a moment, and you scramble to cover your initial balk.

Their daughter is here. She’s cuddled up on Johnny’s good side, the one without the burnt tissue or recovering surgical wound. She’s asleep, wearing a black onesie covered in skulls, her head tipped back and mouth open, chubby cheeks and sweet little face perfectly content. She’s got her entire fist wrapped around one of Johnny’s fingers, holding it right under her chin like she’s afraid he might vanish while her eyes are closed. “Hey, bun.” Johnny whispers, smiling so wide, two fingers stroking through the wispy curls on top of her head. “We snuck in a visitor tonight.”

“I see.” Your heart trembles.

“Fell asleep right away, next to her Da. Been missin’ him these past few nights.” Simon chuckles, patting Johnny’s leg gently, affectionately. There’s a bag of take out on the table behind him, as well as what looks like an overnight bag, a purple duffel stuffed full. “Price is on his way to pick her up.” Penny gurgles, eyes blinking open in a sleepy daze like she knew they were talking about her.

“Ye’re alright, sh-shh, wee lamb.” Johnny coos. She’s half soothed by his words, but the lights in the room are far too bright, and her small noises waver into a cry, frustrated and tired. He tries move her, cradler her higher up his chest, but his face falls with pain, and Simon swoops in, pulling her into his arms. “Bunny, could ye-“

“Would you-“ They both try to ask at once, and you flounder once you realize the intention, a cranky, sleepy Penelope being pushed into your arms.

“I-“ she wails, interrupting you, bending you to her will without fuss, and you hold her closer, rocking side to side, humming above her ear. Just like the NICU, like a patient, like your stint in L&D, it’s fine, it’s-

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Not fine. It’s not fine. Heat burns in your belly. He can’t call you that, not when you’re holding their baby. “Thank you.” Simon says over his shoulder. He’s moving Johnny, lowering the bed slightly to help reposition him, and they speak quietly to one another, voices low enough you can’t make out any of the words.

“I can help you with him, if you want.” He waves you off.

“I need the practice, won’t have you around all the time anymore, yeah? And once he gets home…”

“Ach. ‘m not paralyzed. Jus’ uncomfortable.” Johnny glowers, pouting, and you roll your eyes, rhythm steady, gently bouncing, letting Penny cuddle into your chest, snuggling her face against your arm and side. She’s beautiful, precious and sweet, cooing herself back into a light slumber, and you smile despite yourself, still rocking after her eyes start to shut. “Knew she’d like ye.” He says softly, and you glance up, surprised by the intensity of their focus, heavy gazes fixed on you.

“She’s very sweet.” Your lips twist.

“She is.” Simon agrees. “We were happy to get her some time with her Da. Good for both of ‘em.” His fingers find Johnny’s cheek, and then their hands meet, a palm pressed to lips, a whispered a I love you.

An intimate moment, as you stand there with their baby in your arms.

“Alright, now that ye’ve done the hard work by gettin’ her back down,” Johnny gestures, urging you to step forward, and you carefully place her back in his arms. For a moment, your faces are level, and you get caught in his eyes, nerves strung so tight they could be a tightrope. “I’ve got her.” Weeks in the hospital, and he still smells like cedar and oranges, woodsy citrus that envelopes you, your lashes fluttering on the inhale. “She likes ye.” He murmurs, breath warm and tickling over your cheek.

“Well, she’s...” you straighten, hands smoothing down the front of your top. They’re moist, somehow, and you tuck them behind your back. “She’s a good judge of character, I guess.” Simon’s phone vibrates, Johnny’s plush smile turning dour, and he sighs.

“Okay baby girl. It’s time.” She cries a little, readjusting to Simon’s hold, and he slings the purple duffel over his shoulder, promising to be right back. Johnny nods, eyes downcast, and his face twists once the door shuts, cheeks turning red, staccato, hiccupped breaths coming fast.

“Hey.” You whisper. “Hey, Johnny.” The chair at his bedside creaks under you, and you lean forward, fingertips lightly caressing the tape residue that still sticks to his skin. You should clean that off.

“’m alright.” His shoulders roll, chin jutting out, brilliant blue gleam in his eyes returning, like storm clouds rolling off after rain. He’s silent for a beat, pinky finger folding over yours. “How was yer day?”

“Oh, it was… fine.”

“Simon said ye were goin’ to catch up on some sleep?”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles. “I feel okay though. Still awake at least.”

“I’m glad… ye came. I’m sorry if the other night, I was too… forward.”

“That’s okay. You’re just… so flirty, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” You tease, expecting to get a lighthearted quip in response, or a laugh, but he gives you neither, only a serious, sympathetic expression.

“I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable. Felt terrible, when ye ran off, I-“

“I’m fine, Johnny. You… you didn’t. I mean, it was just… confusing, this is… this is a lot.” He nods.

“I know it is.”

“And you don’t even know me.” His brow creases, focus narrowed in so tightly on you, white walls, white hospital blanket, white everything falling away in a spiral of color.

“I know ye better than ye might think." He cracks a smile. "We want to, if ye’d let us.” No, you don’t. You almost say it. Almost promise him that knowing you would be the stuff of their nightmares, that they have no idea what they’re trying to bite into, or bite off, a near guarantee that it would be than they could chew.

“Well, no harm in making new friends, right?” You entreat weakly, and his eyes flash, ethos of an entire life that you have no knowledge of slipping through, and the dark severity rumbling in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“Aye, bun. Especially when they look like ye in a pair of jeans.”

Dinner is an idyllic affair. Johnny’s favorite takeaway turns out, is Indian, like yours, and the three of you talk for hours, trading bites back and forth, laughing and listening to stories, discovering little bits and pieces about their lives while running interference on personal questions about yourself, allowing them to dip in skin deep, skimming off the top but never getting further. They tell you about themselves, Penelope, their jobs, how they met, and Johnny confides in you about his sketchbook collection, pages upon pages of charcoal and pencil line work, portraits of Simon and Pen covering each page, landscapes, and the occasional cartoon. Your spine eventually starts to wilt, muscles liquifying into goo that can barely hold you upright, and you curl up in the armchair, chin on your palm, listening to the ebb and flow of their voices as they tell you a particular story about how they came to find their current home, a near slapstick comedy about an interaction with the previous owner. Their voices soothe your restless mind, wrap you in a cozy embrace that feels so safe, so comfortable that you can’t fight the languid, siren call of sleep, eyes drooping into darkness, drifting away on their melodies, content and too tired to rationally put together what’s happening. At some point, something covers you up, knit warmth that is tucked in around your shoulders, your feet, a tender touch on your neck and cheek. A whisper of affection soothes the unease that lurks in the background of it all, and you fall into it lazily, farther into the hold of sleep, something your brain and body are desperate for.

When the lights go dim, you don’t even realize, already lost to the sand of slumber.

Around midnight, you wake with a start. Your heart is racing, triple timing in your chest, and you squint in the dark, trying to parse together where you are, what happened.

Oh no. Oh god, did you fall asleep on them? Did you fall asleep in Johnny’s room?

Simon calls your name. He’s settled in a recliner, head turned your direction, mellow light from the little lamp spilling across his features. “Are you alright?” Your mouth is dry, the web of sleep that holds you in suspension finally starting to wane, fuzzy clouds in your head trying to clear without much luck.

“How long was I out?”

“Four hours.”

“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Wanted to let you sleep. I know you were tired, and Johnny was out almost immediately after you.”

“Th-thanks.” Your back groans, muscle and bone grinding together, stiff from sleeping in a cramped position for hours, and you’re surprisingly unsteady on your feet. Simon’s out of his chair in a second, turning around the end of Johnny’s bed to offer you a hand, his other lightly resting between your shoulder blades.

“Easy.”

“Sorry… just… think ‘m more tired than I realized.” It’s dark, and you’re disorientated, woozy, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, limbs and lids still heavy and desperate to fall back asleep.

“I’ll drive you home.” His keys jingle, and you know you should reject him, refute this presumption, push him off, but you can’t string the right words together in your mind, can’t bring yourself to truculently pull away.

So, you don’t. And to your surprise, your shock, it feels… nice. You let him open the door for you, get you settled, you listen to his music on the way, city flying past outside the window, quiet hour of the night crawling by. You let him help you out of the car when you pull up to the curb, and when he asks if he can walk you up, your rational pugnacity is nowhere to be found.

“This is me.” You gesture to the door, fumbling in your wallet for your keycard.

“How long have you been in the hotel?”

“Oh, not long. Reno just started so…” His head turns, surveilling the hallway. You’re in an end room, far from the elevator but close to the stairs, as requested, and there’s a camera that sits on the ceiling, green dot consistently blinking. He glances at it, then back to you, head tilted.

“Are you safe here?” The world goes cold. Your stomach roils, blood draining from your face, and you try to hold yourself steady, mind turning over a million times. You’re overreacting. He’s just asking in a general sense. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t. Breathe. Deep breath.

“I uh, yeah. It’s got a deadbolt.” Along with a door stop alarm, and a security bar. He steps closer, so close that you can smell him, fresh laundry and musk, something spicy lingering there, something dark and enchanting.

“Are you in trouble, little bunny?” You’re in his shadow, beneath the stretch of a mountain, shielded by it, by a monolith so large it could blot out the sun. It overwhelms you, slows the racing pace of your mind, and you try to sort through the merry go round of feelings that are all trying to push their way out of your mouth.

You’ve never felt this. Never felt this… desire, to entrust someone with your life. Never felt this… attraction, this hold that the two of them have on you.

It makes you want to trust them. Makes you want to lay it all out and beg them to help you. Makes you want to close your eyes and leap, praying they’ll catch you.

It’s wicked. It’s dangerous. It’s a fool’s errand.

It’s unfair.

“No.” You whisper. You can’t look at him, and time slows in the silence, your anxiety piquing. Of course, he would assume something is wrong, after witnessing the panic attack. Don’t read too far into it.

“But you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He’s pragmatic, yet still kind, watching you with intent. It doesn’t allay any of the stress that’s building up the back of your throat and closing it, cutting you off from the oxygen you desperately need.

After an eon, he sighs.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can keep your secrets. For now.” You choke.

“I… I should probably-“ you jerk your head towards the door, half turning away to swipe your keycard.

“Alright.” He moves carefully, dipping low, and you stand immobilized, confused and quivering as his cloth covered mouth presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. It’s like he’s bewitched you, cursed you, and you can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “Thanks for coming tonight.” You’re a deer in headlights, a rabbit in a scope.

“Simon.” His name is the only thing you know right now, and it comes out reedy, almost a squeak.

“Get some rest. We’ll text you tomorrow.” He pushes the door wide, arm snaked behind your shoulders, and when you don’t move, he urges you forward, an encouraging hand on the small of your back. Your feet blindly stumble through the motions, searching for the light switch, for your sanity. “Goodnight, bun.” He hums, and the door clicks shut, leaving you alone, staring at the beige-yellow paint on the wall.

The afternoon trains are packed. It makes your skin crawl, not because you dislike busy or hectic places, but because there are too many eyes. You force your head to stay up, casually scrolling past the faces that are turned every which way, keeping your back to a corner or window as often as possible. You’re not sure you even needed to take this route, the one where you loop around and change trains twice, but… old habits die hard.

You’re lighter today, mentally. It’s in your steps on the stairs, the way you tilt your face up to the sun, how you bounce and bob a little along to the rhythm in your headphones.

You try not to read into it, too much. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the good morning text messages from Johnny and Simon, or the hilarious back and forth between them after Simon sent a god-awful joke to the group chat. It has nothing to do with the heat that spreads through your fingers to toes when you think about Simon last night, kissing your forehead.

You slip inside your apartment, popping your headphones free, glancing at the tape and the door jam, before setting your bag on the counter. You idly sort through some mail you left out the other day. Junk, junk, junk, nothing taxing or important, nothing work related or-

A shadow moves. It flickers against the wall by your bedroom, growing larger, stalking closer to the kitchen, to where you stand, frozen, heart pounding in your ears.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“Hey there, sugar.” He croons, the thick, Texas accent unmistakable, and you breathe his name in horror.

“Phillip.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader

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luminnara · 2 months

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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

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ki-yomii · 2 months

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personal taste | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; established relationship, teasing, bent in half, premature ejaculation, implied cum play, implied oral (f receiving), inexperienced!jk ➥ summary | jungkook gets a little too excited and cums early, but he's more than happy to make it up to you. ➥ notes | ✌️idk man, its 2 am. i hope you enjoy lol

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

It was safe to say Jungkook wasn’t the most experienced of lovers when you first get together. Idol life consumed his adolescence, and by the time he’s a young adult, too many eyes are on his every waking move.

A quick affair is rarely worth the effort, and the ones that are leave much to be desired. Relegated to liquor-soaked make-out sessions, and quick, dirty fucks that leave him filled with more sweat and regret than satisfaction.

You’d only been dating a few months when he divulged why he got so jumpy any time your hand grazed his thigh, why he broke off your kisses before they got too heated.

He was adorably shy when he expressed how anxious he was about his performance in the bedroom; how the reality might not live up to your expectations.

But he shouldn’t have worried, having more than made up for any shortcomings with his eager to please attitude and boundless enthusiasm.

The number of times you’ve had sex since getting together can be counted on one hand, but he’s leaps and bounds ahead of where he was when you first started being intimate.

It certainly helps that Jungkook is a dedicated student; throwing himself, as he does with everything in life, full throttle into any and all efforts to learn the secrets of your body.

A quick learner, it isn’t long before he can make you cum with a skillful twist of his fingers, a harsh rut of the hips that settles him so deep inside your pussy, your thighs tremble.

Not only is he able to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you, his stamina is insane. Almost to the point where you’re having trouble keeping up with him, having to take little breaks between rounds to gulp down water and catch your breath.

So… when it happens, it’s altogether unexpected.

But so fucking filthy hot you’re pretty sure you astral project to a higher plane of existence.

You’d been teasing him all day: the brush of your hand across his ass, the skim of your knuckles over the crotch of his pants, pressing close against the wide berth of his back and whispering soft, nasty little nothings into his ear.

Delighting in the blush that crept up the sides of his neck. The cherry red burn of his ears as he gulped, readjusting himself before shooting you a glare.

Jungkook lasts longer than you give him credit for, though that’s most likely due to his competitive streak. He breaks all the same; however, shoving you into his bedroom as soon as the door to his apartment closes behind you.

So needy and desperate he can’t wait any longer, even if the rest of the boys are due to arrive in an hour.

You only just got undressed, the bed creaking under the combination of your weights when he cages you beneath him. His chest flexes with every hurried breath, his ribs expanding with labored puffs of air. His cock bullies its way inside your pussy, hips slotting into place against yours.

“J-Jungkook,” you whine, your toes digging into his sides as your thighs fall open across his. “So deep, I - haaah -”

The fat head of his cock nudges against your cervix with every little rut, sparks of pain fissioning out and deepening the warmth fizzling behind your belly button.

Thick and long, he stuffs your pussy to the brim every time without fail, stretching you wide until tears cling to your lashes and your nails dig into his shoulders.

It hurts no matter how long he spends prepping you, but you like it better this way. The pain only enhances the pleasure; deepens, and darkens.

And knowing he has to force his cock those last few inches because your pussy can’t take it without assistance always riles you up.

Makes you needy and desperate to take everything he can give like a good girl.

“Mm, I know, baby,” Jungkook’s breath hitches as his teeth tug on his lip ring, his eyes - half lidded and greedy - shadowed by the sweaty curtain of his bangs, “Feels so ffuh - fucking good inside you.”

“Hhn!” Your fingers inch up the corded muscles of his forearms, caressing over the whorls of ink as they shackle themselves to his elbows as he bends you in half. “Right there, right there. Jus like - ohmygod! - like that.”

Jungkook grunts, rocking into the cradle of your hips harder, the shaft of his cock dragging almost completely out only to slide to the hilt in one thrust. His pelvis grinds against the swollen bud of your clit as he holds himself there, your slick smearing into his skin.

He curses under his breath when your walls flutter, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Shit! Don’t - don’t do that, baby. I can’t - hnggg - I can’t -”

And then his cock throbs hard once, twice.

A litany of soft, breathy exhalations of pure pleasure accompanies the slick echo of your bodies crashing together. Then his head bends low, the dark briar of his hair clinging to his temples. His jaw drops slack, and a devastated moan punches out of his throat.

Muscles ripple into a full body shiver, Jungkook’s sharp hips stuttering against the backs of your thighs. Sticky warmth floods your cunt, and his hazy, lust-blown eyes stare into yours as he pumps you full of cum.

You groan, blinking up at him, “Did you just-?”

Jungkook’s arms buckle.

Flopping down onto you, a sweaty, panting mess, he tucks his hot face into the crook of your neck. Moist breath puffs across your skin, a ticklish awareness skittering down your spine. Goosebumps rise along your arms.

His heartbeat hammers against your ribs.

“Yeah, I - I…” Jungkook huffs, his nose dragging over the length of your collarbone, tongue flicking over your skin when he licks his lips. “I did. ‘m sorry, baby.”

Breathing in through your nose, you card a hand through his sweaty hair. Swallow down the pleading whines sitting on the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to embarrass him any more than he probably is.

He hasn’t cum this quick since the early days, and you’d rather not ruin the evening by making him spiral.

So even when your pussy flutters, trapped on the edge of an orgasm as his cum leaks out of you, you bite down on your impulses. Resign yourself to being horny for the foreseeable future until you can sneak away and take care of yourself with a vibrator.

“It’s alright, Kook. It happens.”

Your eyes close, and you breathe through your nose, trying to calm the gallop of your heartbeat.

Relaxing seems almost impossible with Jungkook’s constant shifting, but you try your best to get your body on the same page as your mind.

Only for all efforts to go to waste when Jungkook shimmies down between your thighs. The tips of his hair tickle your skin, your lower belly jumping at the sensation.

Furrowing your brow, you peek down at your boyfriend. “Kook, what’re you--?”

Broad palms caress your hips, Jungkook using his thumbs to trace over the jut of bone. His chest glitters under the light, the muscles shifting under his skin almost mesmerizing as he settles on his belly. Forearms hook over the tops of your thighs, and his dark eyes flash with hunger.

His mouth pulls up into an impish smirk. “Can I?” he asks, dropping his gaze to the apex of your thighs. “Please?”

He giggles when he sees how flustered you get. Syrupy sweet, boyish; altogether too endearing for the current circumstances.

“...Are you serious?”

You can’t deny the fresh wave of desire the thought brings - Jungkook with his thick fingers, his tender mouth and soft tongue stroking over swollen, abused flesh - but flap a hand between your bodies in a vague gesture all the same.

“Isn’t that kind of - you just, y’know?”

You aren’t the only one affected by the idea, Jungkook’s cock jerking feebly where it rests against his thigh. A pink tongue flicks out to run along the length of his red-bitten bottom lip, toying with his lip ring as his teeth sink into the soft flesh.

He regards you with predatory anticipation.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ve always wondered what we taste like. Please let me.”

Well… who are you to refuse?

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook fic

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 1 month

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Let our lips lock, baby - K.MG

💋Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💋What; Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3 💋Wordcount; 9.8k 💋Warnings; Profanity. Pet names from them both(baby/sweetheart). A single solitary thigh spank. Oral(female receiving). Gyu gets a little posessive over reader for a second but it's more amusing than anything. I don't think there's actually anything specific that needs to be mentioned? But do let me know. They're on very equal grounds throughout this entire story and I love that for them <3

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; The intention is to sneak into Mingyu's apartment(get let in by Wonwoo) and set up banners and balloons ready for when he wakes. And then you'll cook him a meal like he's been asking for and give him his birthday gift. You don't really have a plan for what happens after that, you assume you'll just hang out, you really don't expect a confession and to wind up in his bed.

Ao3 Link -2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The biggest juiciest thank you ever goes to @sluttywoozi for being so supportive as I wrote this! If it wasn't for you, sweetheart, this would just be soft hours, not sorny hours 💖💖💖 And just the svthub members in general for being actual sweethearts like wtf pls save some sweet for the rest of the world okay <3

ps. scroll to the very bottom to see a very serious birthday edit I made of Mingyu instead of writing this :))

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

Honestly, it's a little worrying just how easy it is to sneak around the apartment without detection. You had known that Mingyu is a heavy sleeper for quite a while now but it still concerns you that you literally managed to enter his room, tidy the little mess and set up decorations all while he slept obliviously in his bed with his mouth wide open in a sign of good sleep. Still, it makes everything all that much easier.

"Ohmygod, hyung!" The thrilled gasp edged with a just-awake roughness, alerts you to the fact that Mingyu has finally woken and spotted the decorations in his room. A few seconds later, he is stumbling through the apartment in search of his flatmate but instead finds you in the kitchen. "Oh, you're not hyung." He mutters dumbly, eyes wide. Yours are too but mostly because he is in rather skimpy little boxers and nothing else.

"I'm not," You confirm, staring without blinking at the extensive beautiful skin exposed to your eyes. Not that you have never seen Mingyu topless before, or even in shorts, but this is something else entirely that you have only dreamed of until now.

And then Mingyu realises what he is wearing, or more specifically what he isn't wearing and squeaks before rushing off with an embarrassed blush burning up his neck and cheeks.

When Mingyu returns ten minutes later, he is freshly showered and fully dressed, much to your disappointment. But at least he isn't just in sweatpants and a hoodie like you had expected; he's pulled on his nice jeans and a crisp plain black t-shirt that clings to his torso and is perhaps more devastating than seeing him bare. At least when he was bare it was less like being teased with something just out of sight. Either way, he is out of reach in every way.

The outfit choice makes you tilt your head a little in puzzlement. "You put on your date outfit." You comment, knowing that the jeans and t-shirt combo is a very common choice for Mingyu when he's going on a casual date with someone.

"You look nice, I thought I should too," Is his simple response as he shrugs and walks over to put his arms around your waist from behind and finally greet you as you usually greet one another; with a hug that is perhaps a little too lingering for the nothing-more-than-friends status you both claim to have. Which is true, nothing has ever happened between you two that passes platonic; it's just the fact that you want it to and if your mutual friends can be trusted, so does Mingyu.

"You said you like this dress," You inform, turning back to the food that you are working on. "And regularly complain that I never make an effort when I hang out with you. Seeing as it's a special occasion, I figured I should grant your wish, birthday boy." You tease and feel him grin happily against your neck where he is still tucked down into like he favours. It always amazes you how such a giant man will shrink down for extended periods just to give affection to those he cares about. "Go sit at the table, this'll be ready soon. Your breakfast, my lunch." You muse, pointing out that it is already almost 1 pm, but you had honestly expected as much. Mingyu is notorious amongst your friends for sleeping into the afternoon on days when he doesn't have to get up. And he always takes his birthday off to allow that luxury.

"Ah, you finally agreed to cook for me." He coos and squeezes you happily before letting his arms unwind, hands sliding over your waist in a way that has you suppressing a shiver. Either he doesn't notice your little shaky inhale or simply chooses to ignore it as he relocates over to the dining table.

"I asked what you wanted for your birthday, you said you wanted me to cook for you." You remind, glancing over as he gasps and picks up the little ribbon-wrapped box on the tabletop while he sits down.

"Is this for me too?" He looks over at you with big eyes full of innocent excitement. He's so fucking cute that it is honestly a giant problem for your ability to keep a level heartbeat.

"Mm, of course, do you see another Mingyu here?" You raise an eyebrow, and then he notices the tag with his name on and giggles embarassedly. "Happy birthday, Gyu."

"Thank you," He breathes out, looking at you fondly for a few long seconds and then turns down to the box. "Can I open it now?"

"Whenever you want, it's yours." You confirm, turning off the heat to dish up the food onto two plates.

"Ah, after food." He decides, putting down the box to jump up with every intention of helping you; though you tut disapprovingly causing him to lower back to his seat like a scolded puppy.

"It's your birthday, let me dote on you."

"You dote on me anyway." He pouts slightly as you carry the plates over to put on the already cutely laid table, down to a little vase with fresh flowers in it. Mingyu has obviously noticed them and knows they're from you, Wonwoo wouldn't buy flowers for their apartment after all, but Mingyu does not have the mental capacity to point them out. It's too much for his poor smitten heart to handle after waking up to birthday balloons and banners, and then seeing you looking so beautiful cooking in his kitchen domestically. If he's forced to voice anything in regard to the appearance of his favourite flowers, he is pretty sure he'll do something stupid like confess his undying love for you and ask you to never leave.

"Yes, and you do it too, but today is about you, birthday boy." You retort and make a move to sit down. Mingyu is on his feet before your ass even touches the chair, just so that he can tuck you in like he always does. You let him have this one and just roll your eyes at his inability to not take care of you, even on a day entirely about him.

Soon Mingyu is making happy sounds in his seat on your adjacent left as he thoroughly enjoys every mouthful of food. As much as Mingyu is a foodie and savours his food in general, he still tends to practically inhale whatever is in front of him when he hasn't eaten in a while, but he is genuinely taking his time to absorb every flavour and texture of this meal. It makes your heart flutter to see the genuine appreciation he has for what you cooked for him.

It occurs to you as you take a photo of him enjoying his food to send to the group chat, that the scene very much looks like a date. Your friends all know what Mingyu tends to wear for dates and if they know your own outfit of the day- which Wonwoo at least does- then they will also know that it's one of your own date looks. You stare at your screen for a second then lock the device as you decide against sending them anything despite having agreed to send update pictures. You had already sent photos of the decorations in Mingyu's room though so that will be enough, right? You know that it most certainly is not enough where your nosey friends are concerned. Still, ignorance is bliss.

For the first time perhaps ever, you finish eating before Mingyu so just sit back and watch him contently. He knows that you're watching him and keeps grinning closed-lipped at you, not at all bothered by your attention. He isn't a hypocrite, he has watched you eat his own cooking in such a way many times before and will continue to do so. Mingyu knows exactly how wonderful it feels to witness anybody enjoying your own cooking, especially those you care about. And Mingyu knows that you care about him an awful lot, he is just kind of in denial that the care had long ago stretched way past platonic territory.

As soon as Mingyu puts his cutlery down on his empty plate, you jump up to take the dishes away making him whine. "I was about to do that!" He complains, pouting at you, his left hand wrapped around his glass of water that he barely managed to touch before you dart away with the dirty dishes and distract him from his drink.

"No, you weren't, birthday boy." You sing-song, rinsing off the dishes already to put in the dishwasher ready for later in the day when it will be full enough to warrant being turned on.

"Are you really going to do everything for me today?"

"Yep, whatever you want, I'm at your disposal, Gyu."

"Whatever I want?" He mumbles, more to himself than you, which is good because you don't hear his voice over the gentle clatter of dishes being placed into the dishwasher. All he can think about is getting the one thing he has wanted almost since the very day he first laid his eyes on you. Your lips. Your hands. Your body. You in your entirety. You by his side always so that he doesn't have to face the ache of watching you walk away ever again. But he can't ask for that, not even on his birthday.

After washing your hands, you return to your place at the table and lean onto your elbows on the tabletop. You don't notice the way the position accentuates your cleavage but Mingyu certainly does. It takes everything in him to not look down at your chest. "Are you going to open your gift now?" You prompt, nodding towards the little box.

"Oh, yeah!" He perks up and reaches out for it. "Though you really didn't have to get me anything, you already cooked for me and that's the best gift I've ever received."

"Don't be ridiculous, Gyu, it was just a meal. Not even a particularly exciting one either, you regularly cook much more extravagant meals for me." You pout a little, feeling guilty about the meal you made for him. You had spent weeks trying to come up with something special to cook for him; you had even made a secret groupchat with some of your friend group who you thought would be helpful and not just ignore the chat, to send recipes and ask opinions. It had actually been Seokmin in the end who had not quite snapped but got fed up with your consistent worries over the planned meal and told you that Mingyu wouldn't give a single fuck what you cooked, he just cared that you cooked it. Seeing Seokmin speak up like that made you finally listen to the reason the entire chat had been trying to talk into you, so you stopped looking for something fancy and just cooked something you are confident in already.

"It's not about that," Mingyu speaks, looking at you earnestly. "It's about the act itself; cooking something for me no matter what it is, shows you care. That's what I care about, not the meal itself. Though it was delicious and I really hope you cook it for me again." His smile turns cheeky by the end making you let out a soft laugh.

"Mm, just say when." You agree, smiling when his whole face lights up. You playfully scrunch your nose at him. He returns it without hesitation.

A moment passes between you, not a new moment but one you have both felt many times; a moment with something meaningful floating in the air between you. But as per usual, neither of you are brave enough to reach out and capture it.

At the same time, you both look down at the box still in his hands to redirect your attention to something that doesn't feel quite so big in your chests. Carefully, Mingyu pulls on the ribbon to untie the bow that you had spent a good half an hour trying to perfect that morning so that he can then pluck the lid free. After moving aside the tissue paper Mingyu's eyes land on the jewellery within. His expression melts along with his posture. With a cautious hand, he reaches out to touch one of the silver chains.

"I hope they're what you wanted; you were very vague when you said matching bracelets. I don't know who you intend to wear them with, but I hope you both like them. And that the design isn't entirely opposite to your intention." You worry a little at the end, your own gaze settling on the little double hearts on each somewhat dainty chain. Jeonghan had given you a look as if you were crazy when you had shown them to him last week; he insisted that Mingyu would break the chain within the first day of wearing it. But you know they are much more resilient than they look after extensive testing on them both. You are confident that even Mingyu's accident-prone self won't destroy the chains, yet even if he does, you'll just buy him more. Any many as he wants. So long as he's happy, you'll buy him anything his heart desires. "I just know you like love heart designs and everything else didn't really suit you in my mind."

"They're beautiful." He breathes out then scoots closer to you and holds his left arm out over the table top. "Put it on me, please?"

"Sure," You agree even if you're confused about why he isn't waiting until he gives the matching one to whoever his intended recipient is. Still, you pluck one of the bracelets from its secure seat in the box to wind it around his wrist and clasp it in place. Your fingers trace over the chain and his skin for a second before you start to pull back. But Mingyu quickly, though gently, grasps your right hand to tug it closer to him. "Gyu," You murmur with widened eyes when he pulls the remaining chain from the box. "Gyu, I didn't buy it with this intention." You explain rapidly, worried that he thinks that you expect him to give the other to you purely because you had purchased the matching pair.

"I asked for it with this intention." He admits eyes focused on the chain he ties around your wrist. "Why do you think I asked you to get me matching bracelets if not to share with you?"

"I don't know. I've bought you stuff to match with the guys before."

"Mm, true," He agrees and looks up at you though his fingers remain on your wrist tenderly. "But I wanted these for us; something I can wear every day and have a reminder of you, so I can look down and feel better because I'll be thinking of you."

"Gyu…" You breathe out. His words hold a lot more weight than anything the pair of you dare to utter to one another; like he has finally reached out and caught onto that thing between you and now he is offering you the chance to reach back out. But you don't know what to say, how to reach out without risking the weight of his words not being what you hope.

He stares at you for a moment, lip between his teeth as he chews on it a little with nerves filling his chest. He's already said it, there isn't any going back now. So he decides that if he can't go back, he should keep going forward and take that leap that he truly hopes with everything in him will end in your open arms. "You said whatever I want, right?" He recalls. It takes you a second to understand what exactly he means but then you nod. "Well, I have something that I've wanted for a really long time, something only you can give me. But I don't want you to give it to me just because I asked and it's my birthday. Okay?"

"Uh, okay?" You reply, confused yet very hopeful that whatever his request is, it will be enough that if you reach out, your hand will find his own doing the same. "What is it?"

"Will you kiss me?" Your eyebrows lift in surprise as your heart races in your chest. "And not…not just because kissing is nice and you haven't kissed anyone in a while so you're happy to kiss for that reason." You don't even care that he has bluntly mentioned your lack of any kind of action in the past months. "But because you want to kiss me and not because I'm one of your closest friends or just for a sexual thing but because you like me and want me the way that I want you."

Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "And how do you want me?"

"By my side from now until forever as mine, and me as yours entirely."

"Really?" Your voice is choked and there are tears in your eyes from his sincere words.

Mingyu's own eyes look as if they are gathering tears too. Though his aren't wet just because of the rapidly growing cloud of something between you with his hands deep inside as he tries to direct it to your own touch. He's fucking petrified that he is ruining everything between you yet he hadn't been able to stop talking and let his truth flow free. He will never forgive himself if his honesty pushes you away; he'd rather have you as nothing more than a friend than not at all, so long as you're still such a big part of his life.

"Yeah, I-I'm kind of really in love with you," He admits with a weak chuckle. He tries to lighten the mood with a smile but it's much too shaky to do the job.

Luckily though, you don't notice, you're already darting forward to lean over the table and kiss him utterly overwhelmed by his confession and the swell of your heart to have the mentality to voice anything in response. You hope your lips against his will suffice until you have your full faculties back.

For a handful of seconds, Mingyu remains frozen solid in his seat, eyes wide on your own closed ones closer to his face than you have ever been before. He had hoped you'd react positively, but he hadn't dared to expect it. The hope itself had seemed like a dream. So it takes him a few seconds to fully register that you have just fucking kissed him despite all he said. You two have such a solid mutual respect for one another that he knows that you will never play with his emotions in any way. It's that mental reminder that has him jerking back to reality. His hands fly up to cup your face as his eyes close and he finally kisses you back with a soft groan.

Considering that the kiss had been rather one-sided for its start, it isn't a sweet kiss by any means. It's passionate from the first second that his lips press back against yours; both of you are full of so much emotion for one another for so long that it's being released all at once.

You hadn't intended to get carried away in the way Mingyu's tongue caresses your own or how he regularly lets out little low sounds from the back of his throat to show how pleased he is by the way that your mouths move with this same pure need for one another, but you do.

Only when you find yourself on his lap, table edge pressing into your lower back and his erection grinding up between your spread legs, do you actually recall that you hadn't meant to do more than just kiss the man until you gain your mental clarity back. Not that you do gain your mental clarity back but you've both pulled apart to desperately refill your lungs even without stopping your hips moving against each other.

"Gyu," You manage, holding his face firmly and looking into his heavy gaze. He licks his lips but doesn't respond verbally. He's at least staring at you intently enough that you know he will hear you even over the lust thick in his veins. "I'm in love with you too."

All at once, Mingyu falls still and blinks at you in dumb surprise. He hadn't expected you to say as much; even if you do feel the same way, he thought your return confession would come later. You know, after he's fucked you until you can't walk without thinking of his cock every single step. "You are?" He asks, not because he thinks you'd lie, but just because his blood is not circulating around his brain enough for him to have the ability to decipher if it's just a horny hallucination fuelled by his own love for you.

"Yeah, have been for a while."

"Oh." Another few empty blinks at you before he beams and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I love you so so so so so much, sweetheart. You'll be mine, right?" He leans back to look at you with big eyes full of love and a hint of pleading.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." You agree, beaming right back at him with your arms around his neck. "For as long as you want me."

"How does forever sound?" Mingyu offers with a cheeky smile.

You take a moment to just admire him, admire the man who owns your entire heart and soul. "I'm not sure it's long enough." You will happily dedicate an eternity to loving Kim Mingyu but even then, you aren't sure that it's long enough in comparison to the devotion he deserves.

"But it's a start."

"It's a start." You agree with a single nod. He smiles adoringly at you then lifts one hand from around you to cup your cheek tenderly and leads you into a kiss. This one isn't like the other, there's no lust in this, even if it still burns in your very blood and clearly in his too based on the bulge still pressing against you. All the kiss contains is pure unfiltered love, and you hope to have many more like it in your future together. And you're positive that it is going to be a long and happy future.

The longer the kiss goes on, the more the lust trickles back in. Soon enough, you're grinding against each other looking for friction and to feel one another closer.

"Baby," Mingyu pants out, gripping your hips tight to force you to a stop. You pout at him confused and rather offended. "There's something else I want. For my birthday."

"If it's to fuck me, you have my very enthusiastic consent." You reply immediately and try to move back in to reunite your lips but he holds you still making you whine. "Gyu,"

"No, it's not. Well, I mean I do want to fuck you, a lot but that's not what's on my mind right now." You pointedly look down at the borderline obscene bulge in his jeans then back up at him. He giggles a little, kind of shy and very out of place but so fucking cute that you can't help but smile in return.

"Okay, what do you want, birthday boy?" You coo, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"To eat you out." You raise an eyebrow at him. You thought he'd ask for a blow job if anything, not for him to go down on you. Not that you're against that at all. "Can I?"

"Mm, sure, baby, whatever you want." You agree. He grins then abruptly hoists you up onto the table making you yelp in alarm at being manhandled out of the blue. Once again, not that you're against that at all.

"I've wanted to get my mouth on you for so long," He admits breathlessly as he watches his hands smooth up your spread thighs in front of him. "Thought about how you'd taste, dreamed about it." He slowly pushes the skirt of your dress up and up and up until it's bunched at the crease between your thighs and hips.

You watch him stare at the seat of your panties for a moment, his fingers pressing into your thighs and mouth open. "For someone who's wanted this for so long, you're taking your time getting to it, baby." You tease, tapping his chin causing him to snap his mouth shut embarrassedly while flicking his eyes up to you.

"Shut up, I'm overwhelmed," He mumbles, tilting his head towards your hand so that you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his lips so he presses a kiss to it without thought.

"Overwhelmed in a good way?"

"The best way," Mingyu confirms, nodding in your hold. "I just found out that you love me and now I get to touch and taste you. It's a lot, I'm not sure I've even absorbed that you love me yet."

"Will it help if I say it again?" You tease, leaning down towards his face. He straightens as you lower as if drawn to you without him even needing to consciously move his body. You have only just come together but already, it's so natural to you both.

"Only one way to find out."

Instead of saying the words, you press your lips to his. You kiss him softly, slowly in a way that makes his breath hitch and his fingers tremble a little against your skin. With just a hint of sweetness. "I love you, Mingyu, more than I can put into words."

"I can't either." He agrees and brushes his nose against yours softly before pressing a flutter of a kiss to your cheek, and then another a little lower. "I'm not good with words," Another kiss below the last. "I never have been," He continues to speak in between creating a trail of his lips over your jaw and down onto your neck, trying his utmost to carve a path of his love into your skin in hopes of it reaching your very centre and finding a home there. "And I'll spend my whole fucking life trying to find them for you." His lips are at your collarbones by now with little flashes of his tongue to taste every inch of you he can. It sends your stomach both fluttering and burning. "But for now, let me try and show you instead." He pulls his mouth from you to stand up and hover over you with both of his hands finding your face to direct your gaze up into his own.

You nod a little in agreement. "Show me, Gyu." You encourage on a whisper before his lips are back on yours, tongue sliding into your mouth as he encourages you to lay back against the tabletop without once breaking the kiss.

And then in true Mingyu fashion, once you are flat against the wood and he reaches up to prop himself up over you, he knocks over the vase of flowers.

He shrieks and flails to try and catch them but the vase topples over, spilling water out over the wood and thanks to his failed correction, in your direction. You just stare dumbly at him. It all happened so fast. One second you're making out with your boyfriend and the next, you're soaked and not in the ideal area. Luckily, it actually isn't an awful lot of water but having it over half of your face and chest really is not enjoyable in any way.

"Ohmygod, I am so sorry, baby," Mingyu rushes out when he looks at you instead of the mess of stems and petals over the table amongst the water. "I didn't mean to get you wet!" You raise an eyebrow with a suggestive grin. Instantly, his worry goes and he laughs. "This is the wrong kind of wet." He muses and plonks the vase down so that he can wrap his arms around you and pull you upright against his chest. "Will you be upset if I ignore the flowers you bought me to take you to bed and make you wet in the other way?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"I think I'd be more upset if you focused on the flowers."

"Good." Mingyu lowers just enough to get your thighs up around his waist and his hands under them securely before lifting. "Always wanted to pick you up." He admits off-handedly as he traipses through the apartment.

"Why?"

"Because…you let Seungcheol do it that time but no one else." He pouts and you giggle, absently playing with the hair at his nape where your fingers lay comfortably. "Don't laugh at me." He whines. The slap of his palm against the underside of your thigh isn't hard and doesn't hurt at all but the point gets through. Even if it is entirely contradictory behaviour to his sulking.

"Yes sir," You reply, a tease but your voice is serious. The only sign of the playful response is in the way your eyes sparkle on him. He gives you an unimpressed look but quickly breaks and smiles. Though seconds later, the smile turns into a smirk and he tosses you onto his bed.

"You look good in my bed." He grins, eyes darkening as they roam you from where he stands at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips.

"Look better with you on top of me, come on." You settle with your head on the soft pillows and spread your legs invitingly while pulling your skirt up higher. Mingyu is between your thighs in seconds, chest flat to the mattress and face alarmingly close for the speed at which he moves. For a second, you really think that he's going to collide with you; although you have wanted Mingyu's mouth on for a long time, that would certainly not be how you fantasised. "Ohmygod, I thought you were going to faceplant my vagina for a second." You admit in a relieved exhale. He snorts a laugh then shuffles a little closer so that he can press a kiss at the crease of your inner right thigh over the edge of your panties.

There aren't any further words exchanged between you, just a moment of heated eye contact before Mingyu adjusts his position and pulls the seat of your panties to expose you to him. He takes a few seconds to burn this image of you all slick and bare for him in his mind; something for him to look back on when he misses you.

Because he knows he will. He missed you before he even had you and now? Good luck ever going a day without him whining for you in some way.

You let him look even if it makes you blush and squirm a little, half shy, half aroused at the intensity of his burning gaze locked between your spread thighs. He isn't even holding your legs open, just resting his left hand on your inner thigh without any pressure while his right keeps your panties aside. If he was anyone else, your thighs would've closed already but this is Mingyu, the man you hope to spend a lifetime with, so you figure you shouldn't be shy with him. He'll see it all eventually anyway.

Just before you can change your mind and try to encourage him either verbally or by reaching out and pulling him in, he leans down and licks a broad stripe over you, pulling your wetness onto his tongue and making you inhale sharply at the sudden wet touch. He groans deeply and his eyes almost roll back as he sucks the flavour off of you from his own tongue to swallow down. And then he's back, diving right down with his left hand moving to use his thumb to hold you open and give him easier access to lap at the arousal trickling from your hole.

He doesn't really give you any chance to think, just grip the sheets below you with your mouth open and eyes shut while he devours you with more enthusiasm than you could've ever expected. If you didn't think it before, you certainly do now; Kim Mingyu is the personification of your wettest dreams. The way his tongue travels over your folds hungrily, lips joining to suck and kiss wherever his heart desires, is so fucking sinful in the best of ways. You think he may very well suck your soul out of your clit at this rate and you'll thank him for it.

"Gyu," You finally manage to make a sound beside the whimpers and moans he skillfully pulls from your throat in a way nobody could, not even yourself and you truly thought you knew your body through and through by this point. But boy were you wrong. And for the first time, you're very fucking happy to be proven incorrect.

And apparently, calling his name out of the blue is not a smart move because he immediately leans up to look at you with wide eyes of concern. "Yeah, baby? You okay?"

"Don't fucking stop!" You wail in complaint, reaching out to knot your fingers into his hair and force him back down. Though he's more than willing to get his mouth back on your dripping pussy and lowers easily under your hands with a pleased groan. "Don't stop," You repeat on an exhale, watching him devour you as if it's his sole reason for existing. You wish you could watch him for longer but your neck quickly starts to hurt from the awkward angle so you flop back down and let your eyes close again.

Mingyu glances up at you for a second then also closes his own eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. He has imagined this so many times before; how you'd taste on his tongue, how you'd feel against his lips, but nothing he imagined can hold a candle to the haven he's discovered between your thighs. He knows he could happily spend all day with his head between your thighs and his tongue buried in your pussy. He wonders if you'd let him. Not right now, he thinks that would be too much for your first day together but in the future. Tomorrow? Yeah, he'll ask to do it tomorrow, you can both call in sick to work as far as he's concerned.

Honestly, Mingyu is too lost in his own actions to register the way your legs are pulling in either side of his head and your moans changing in pitch and frequency. He only notices when suddenly he has a thigh pressed to either side of his head and you're pressing down against him with a call of his name. His eyes fly open to watch you arch off of the bed as your orgasm shocks through your body. He doesn't mean to groan lowly where his lips are wrapped around your clit but he does and the vibration is too much when you're barely through your climax so you scramble to push his head away. "Sorry, sorry," He pants out, crawling up the bed to hover over you while you slump down, eyes closed and chest heaving. He lowers onto his elbows on either side of you to kiss your neck softly while he waits for you to catch your breath back. He isn't expecting anything more than this and would be happy if you wanted to just leave it here for today, but he's sure as shit hoping you'll let him put his cock in you even for a moment. At this point, he's sure it won't take more than just a moment or two for him to cum anyway, his dick is throbbing in his boxers, pressing against his jeans in a way that he's only now realising is actually a little painful.

The second your breath is back, you tug him up to lock your lips together. His are a little damp and sticky still but you find you don't mind tasting yourself when it's on Mingyu's tongue.

You don't wait long at all before reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up. He leans back to give you a questioning look, more to make sure you're certain than anything else. You continue to pull it up so he maneuvers to allow you to remove it from his body.

"You're insane, you know?" You murmur out awed as you take in his defined torso. For the first time, you can touch him to your heart's content so you run your palms over his newly exposed skin, memorising the warmth, the dips and ridges of him.

"What?" He laughs confusedly, looking between your bodies and taking in how your hands look against him, how your skin tone compliments his own perfectly. Like you were made to complement each other. For each other. As he looks up at you and observes the reverence on your beautiful features, he thinks perhaps you were. It's that thought that has him lowering back to your lips again before you can even answer his question. He has the sudden urge to love you in every way he possibly can; not that he never does, but right now it's less of the usual consistent buzz and more like a heated thrumming right under the surface of his skin.

You let out a little surprised 'mmh' against his lips yet don't hesitate to kiss him back. Your hands first lift to hold his face but then they move back down, over his pecs and abs all the way to the waistband of his jeans where you tuck your fingers underneath in a silent request. He groans a little and presses against your hand in wordless consent so you quickly open the button and pull down the zipper so that you can snake a hand underneath and palm at him over his boxers.

Mingyu immediately pulls out of the kiss with a hiss and a low curse. "Baby, I'll cum if you touch me." He warns, locking pleading eyes on you. You can't quite tell what he's pleading for though. Not when his words say one thing and his hips rolling against your palm tells you another.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" You muse, lifting a teasing eyebrow.

"I don't want to," He pouts. Without hesitation, you pull your hands away and hold them to yourself. "No, I didn't mean to stop." He whines.

"What the fuck, Mingyu?" You complain, pinching his nipple making him yelp and squirm away a little but only for a second as he returns right back. Always drawn to you and unable to hide it anymore, he doesn't want to hide it anymore. Wants the world to know if at all possible.

"I mean I don't want to cum like that." He explains, soothing your displeasure with a few sweet kisses to your forehead and temple. "I really want to be inside you."

"Oh," Your expression swiftly shifts into understanding and then delight. "I really want you inside me too, Gyu."

"Yeah?" It's kind of comical the way his eyes light up in pure excitement. More like he has been offered his favourite food, not to fuck you. Well, considering the enthusiasm with which he ate you out earlier though, you may very well be his new favourite thing to eat.

"Yeah, so get naked." You confirm with a giggle that only grows when he scrambles off of the bed to shed his clothes. He stumbles multiple times in his haste and honestly, you're too fucking endeared and in love with this giant clumsy idiot to do anything but sit and watch him with a stupid grin on your face.

He only notices that you have not done anything but sit upright when he turns to climb back on the bed entirely naked and spots you watching him. "You're not naked." He comments, a fresh pout pursing his lips.

"I got distracted watching the man I'm in love with," You explain smoothly. Mingyu's cheek flushes as he smiles at your words, his heart swelling with his own love in his chest. He's not sure he'll ever get used to hearing you admit to your love for him. He doesn't think he wants to get used to it.

He climbs up onto the bed further and reaches out to the hem of your skirt. You get up onto your knees in front of him and lift your arms. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before removing the dress from your body to toss it to the floor carelessly. Later he will worry about the creases in it from being on the floor, but right now he can't think about anything but you.

"You're so beautiful." He exhales heavily as he roams his gaze over your bra and panty-clad body. You're glad you wore one of your nice matching sets today, you think he deserves to see your nice lingerie for your first time together at least.

"So're you." You reach around your back to unlatch your bra. Mingyu's eyes widen in interest for a second then he moves in and pulls the straps from your shoulders so that he can also discard that piece of clothing, leaving you in your damp, slightly stretched-out panties. "How do you want me?" You ask as you hook your thumbs in the waistband, but Mingyu bats your hands away gently so that he can have the honour of stripping you naked.

"On your back." He murmurs as he works the material down your thighs.

"Don't want me to ride you?" You offer, his eyes snap up to you and he goes very quiet and still for a few seconds as the mental image of you bouncing on his cock assaults his mind. And then he's shaking it away with a physical shake of his head and nudging you down to your earlier position so that he can remove the last item keeping you from being as bare as him.

"Not right now, I'll cum too fast." He admits, settling between your thighs on his knees and just looking at you with his hands on your inner thighs just above your knees. "Might cum too fast anyway." He confesses in a mumble making you choke out a laugh at his abrupt confession. "Will you break up with me if I cum as soon as I feel your pussy on my cock?" He asks, looking genuinely worried at the thought and like he seriously wants an answer.

So you take a breath so that you don't laugh again and shake your head a little. "No, Gyu, I won't break up with you if that happens."

"Promise?"

"I promise." You assure, squeezing his hands a little. His left moves up to grab yours in return and lace your fingers together on your thigh.

"Okay," He relaxes as he accepts your words as truth then looks down to focus on his right hand as it moves from your thigh and to between your legs. "I should've stretched you earlier when I had my mouth on you." He realises, prodding at your entrance with his lips slightly protruding in concentration and a little regret at his lack of forethought destroying his plans of sliding into your pussy any second.

"Do you want me to do it?" You offer. Two of his fingers slide into you in answer making your breath catch but then you laugh a little at his reaction.

"No, nobody touches this pussy except me." He argues firmly, already working to move his fingers within you, in and out while scissoring them with his only goal to stretch you enough to comfortably fit his thick cock inside.

"I-I can't even t-touch my own body now?" You ask, amused but his fingers in you feel too good for you to actually put any emotion into your voice. You vaguely hope he doesn't take it the wrong way and does understand that you're trying to joke with him, but mostly you don't care how he takes it so long as he keeps stretching you out in that way. It's a rushed job, you know that, you can tell that he obviously only wants one thing right now and this isn't for giving you any pleasure, but it still is. Maybe it's the way he's being a little rough about it without actually being rough, he's giving you the chance to adjust to his fingers but he's already adding a third and jabbing them into you sooner than you would yourself.

"Not like this," Mingyu answers, eyes still on his task between your thighs, though now he's seeing the way you're leaking even more and he's sort of clicking back into the fact that he should consciously be making this good for you. Though the slick sounds mixed with your laboured breathing and intermittent soft moans tell him that he doesn't really need to try to make this good for you. But next time, next time he'll make you cum until the sheets are soaked down to the mattress before he puts his cock in you. "Are you on birth control?" The question feels entirely out of the blue so you can't be blamed for not answering and just blinking at him for a second. He slows his hand to a stop and lifts his head when you don't answer. "I really want to cum in you." He explains.

"Oh, uh, no. I kept forgetting to take it." You answer and feel genuinely bad when his expression falls. He looks kind of heartbroken. "I plan to get something else soon though, so in the future you can."

"Okay," He smiles agreeably then removes his fingers from you to reach over to his bedside table, open it and rummage inside to find a condom.

"You'd have more luck if you let go of my hand." You muse watching him struggle to open the foil packet with one hand, the corner of it carefully held between his front teeth.

"No," He refuses around closed teeth. There's a victorious sound from him when the foil rips open. He spits out the ripped piece of the packet to the side and you watch the corner flutter away knowing he will be annoyed at himself for littering his floor later. "Uhm," His lost mutter draws your attention back to him. He's kneeling there, the tip of the condom pinched between his fingers as he stares between it and his erection. Clearly, he did not think this through.

You huff a soft almost silent laugh before you sit up and move his hand to his dick so that he can hold the condom and allow you to roll it down his length. He bites his lip and tries to not let your touch get to him.

"Teamwork," Mingyu giggles when you lean back and look up at him. "We make a good team, right, baby?"

"Mm, the best," You confirm, tugging him down by the back of his neck to connect your lips. Mingyu's free hand brushes appreciately over your arm before he starts to lean forward, urging you back slowly until you're against the mattress and he's over you with his right arm holding him up, his left hand still locked with yours but now it's by your side.

You can feel his erection against you, the latex sliding against your thigh until you lift your legs to nudge him over a little by his hips. He presses down, gliding his cock over your folds and catching on your clit. He can't really get the position right like this though, not to slide into you. Mingyu lifts your connected hands up to the pillow beside your head so that he can move his weight over to his left elbow and get his right hand between your bodies. He grasps his erection loosely, just enough of a grip to line himself up with your dripping hole.

"Ready?" He breathes out after leaning up enough to look down into your eyes. You nod without hesitation so he pushes in. He's only an inch into you and he's already convinced that your pussy is the greatest pussy that has ever or shall ever exist.

As Mingyu gradually feeds his thick length into you, you have the honour of watching his face contort beautifully in pained pleasure. He's trembling and his gaze is unfocused even as he stares back down at you with his mouth dropped open wide without a single sound coming out. You're not even sure he's breathing, and honestly, you're not sure you are either.

The stretch of his cock against your walls is utterly mind-numbing. You've had your fair share of sexual partners in the past and plenty of sex toys to keep yourself happy otherwise, but nothing, absolutely nothing has ever felt the way Mingyu feels tucked up snug inside of you. You're not sure if it's because his cock is just that good, big in all the right ways without being too big, or if it's just that you're in so fucking deep with this man that anything he does feels ridiculously good. You're leaning towards the latter, though you are pretty certain that he has the most perfect cock to have ever graced this earth, if not the universe.

When Mingyu's hips finally press up against you signalling that he is fully sheathed within you, you're half certain that you can feel him in your stomach and absently press down with your left hand just to test that theory. You can't feel him, but you can imagine it all the same and wrap your arm back around his neck loosely.

"You okay?" You whisper when he remains that way, eyes still unfocused on your face and both hands on either side of your head where his right is gripping the pillow with everything in him.

"No," He chokes out, finally blinking alert. "Feel so good," He slurs. "Don't wanna cum yet, wanna stay in you forever."

"You don't have to pull out right away." You soothe your hand over the back of his neck, fingers digging into the muscles a little in an attempt to calm your overwhelmed boyfriend. "And I don't have any plans today so we can spend as long as you want in bed and you can fuck me again later when you're ready."

"Really?" He perks up a little. "N-no plans?"

"No, baby, I wanted to be available for whatever you want to do today. Granted, I thought it might be a drive or trip somewhere, not sex."

"Would you rather the trip?" He teases with a little smirk as he slowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock along your walls that try to keep him in place. His smirk wavers.

"No. Fuck me." You reply knowing he really can't hold out anymore. You really don't want him to either. He nods and thrusts back into you.

You expect him to move fast and frantic, to chase the pleasure he has been dancing along the precipice of for a while now. Yet Mingyu fucks you slowly, rolling his hips deep into you and then all the way out until his tip is barely in you before sliding back in. He fucks you like he's got something to prove. It reminds you of his earlier words, that he wants to show you what he doesn't yet have the words to say.

"I love you," You blurt, suddenly overcome with the urge to say it.

Mingyu stills for a second then surges down to kiss you passionately, spilling his response into your mouth wordlessly as his hips return to work. Now though, he barely pulls out before fucking back into you. It's more of a grind than anything, his body pressed close enough that his pubic bone is applying pressure to your clit in a way that is shattering you from your mind to your lower stomach.

Very quickly, the pleasure is too much for either of you to make your lips work further so Mingyu leans up, propping himself up on his right elbow on the pillow, his fingers threading into your hair to hold you as his body continues to make your body burn brighter with every passing second. His forehead presses to yours for a few seconds before he lifts his head and looks to his left. You look over too, wondering what could draw his attention right now when he's fucking you like no one ever has before.

At first, you don't understand at all, all you can see in his line of sight is your hands. Which is nice, sure, the sight of your fingers locked together as he shows you how much he loves you with his cock buried deep within you and grinding against more sensitive spots than you ever knew you had before, though you don't understand his laser focus. But then you find the matching silver chains on your wrists, the hearts almost pressed together with the angle you were holding each other and you understand.

Those bracelets were always supposed to be a sign of love for him, even if you didn't know it. He had asked you to pick out bracelets for you to wear together so that he could always have a piece of you with him and you a piece of him. You had exchanged hearts, metaphorically and quite literally now with the physical representations tied securely around your wrists.

Something about that very thought sends you tumbling into an intense orgasm without you realising it's going to happen until the blinding pleasure is washing over you. Your hands both grip Mingyu, one in his hand and the other around his back and drawing red lines into his shoulder blade. You're not even aware of it, of how you call his name and clamp down around his cock as you gush over it, promptly sending him spiralling into his own mind-numbing orgasm.

It's minutes before either of you return back to earth.

You're back first, blinking away the tears that you hadn't realised had formed until now. Mingyu is pressing up against your chest with his head on your shoulder and the only movement of his body is his back as his breathing starts to even out. It hits you that you missed his orgasm; you had always wanted to know what he looks like during such intense pleasure, but you missed it thanks to your own. You frown a little though a quick glance at your still connected hands reminds you that you are his and he is yours, therefore, this will not be your only chance to see his handsome features contort with pleasure.

"I love you but I also love breathing." You point out after a few minutes of tracing patterns on his back with your left hand. At first, his weight on you hadn't been too much but it seems that your gentle trails on his sweat-sticky skin have made him relax a little too much and let his muscle-thick frame lay heavier on you.

"Mmm, can we still cuddle?" He requests, making no attempt to get up though he does do his best to lean more onto his right elbow again even without lifting up from your shoulder.

"Of course." Though he still doesn't get off of you. "Are you going to move, Gyu?"

"But then I won't be in you," You can hear the pout in his slightly muffled voice, even if you can't see it. "You're all warm, s'nice."

"So you'd rather cockwarm than let me breathe easily?"

He hesitates then giggles when you tug on his ear with an offended gasp. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" He leans up entirely onto his elbow, freeing your torso from him. "I will always pick your health."

"I should hope so." He scrunches his nose at you playfully. You return it without hesitation.

Although he hadn't wanted to get up initially, Mingyu goes to the effort once off of you to go all the way to the bathroom, once he has disposed of the soiled condom, where he fetches a warm damp cloth and a dry towel to clean you up first, then himself. You expect him to return to your side but he saunters off again, allowing you to once again marvel at his exposed ass as he walks away, and returns with a couple of water bottles and an armful of snacks.

The water makes sense, you think, but the mass of snack packets is a little questioning so you raise an eyebrow at him while you shuffle to sit up against the headboard and accept one of the bottles. "What?" He innocently replies, putting the other bottle down on the side table to free his hand and allow him to set up the various snacks there too. "You said we can spend as long as I want in bed, I just want to be prepared, sweetheart."

And well, you can't really argue with that, nor his cheeky endearing smile so you just laugh softly and hand over the open bottle to let him swallow down some of the cool liquid himself before he climbs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around your body to hold you in the way you had both wanted for so long.

Later, when you both have your energy back and Mingyu is no longer constantly on the verge of cumming too soon, he presses you back down against his bed all over again so that he can see every expression on your face as he takes you apart piece by piece just to see how you work at your very core. He learns all of your curves and edges so attentively and allows you to learn his in return.

By the time you're once again laid side by side much later, tucked up in each other's arms tired yet sated, you're certain that somewhere along the way, your pieces got mixed up and Mingyu found himself a permanent home in your chest. He had taken a piece of you for his own and given you a matching piece of him in return.

You can't see it, but it feels an awful lot like his heart. Silently, with nothing more than a soft kiss on his shoulder, you vow to him that you will spend your life protecting it with everything in you. And you're confident that he will do the same with yours as his lips press to your head in return.

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

A/N- don't forget to reblog if you enjoyed the story; it involved multiple moments where I almost quit so the show of support would mean a lot and motivate me to write more! & let me know what you think, that'd be grand too pls. I literally haven't written smut in years tho so be gentle on me I am babie <3

Happy birthday to the biggest babyboy 💋💖

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen mingyu x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen mingyu fluff #seventeen mingyu f2l #seventeen mingyu friends to lovers au #seventeen au #seventeen mingyu au #seventeen mingyu fanfiction #seventeen mingyu fanfic #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen f2l au

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2chopsticks2eyes · 10 months

Text

Anger Management

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~19.5k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Protected/Unprotected Sex, One mention of previous sexual assault

Summary: When reader is given a court order to attend anger management classes, the last thing she expects is to become even more angry than before. It’s all thanks to a certain Lee Minho. Jisung intervenes in… interesting ways…

Author's Note: I want to start of first by apologizing to you guys for the delayed content. Some shit has slowed down my writing lately so hopefully it will pick up again soon. Next, this is for my lovely baby @lyramundana and her long awaited request. I hope you like it honey!

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He thought you were actually really fucking talented. Like outrageously so.

Like, yeah you were only a solo act and just an amateur opening for them, but Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Every stroke over your guitar strings emanated such emotion that Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was deeply connected with you and your song.

An acoustic opening act was a bit odd for his rap group 3RACHA, but he had no complaints. Besides, this was just a small dive bar that usually only hosted other musicians, ones of all genres. After he, Chan, and Changbin finished their act, Jisung’s eyes involuntarily swept the establishment in hopes to find you and express how much he enjoyed your act.

Luckily enough, he and his two bandmates saddled up with a large group that was talking up some nonsensical chatter that you happened to be a part of. The three of them were pretty well known at this establishment, so introductions were passed around and he found your shy smile to be absolutely beautiful.

The more you talked, the more you reminded him of his boyfriend, Minho.

Jisung’s mind was always on Minho 24/7. It was a problem really, but everywhere he looked he would always think ‘I should show Minho this’ or ‘I wonder if Minho would like that’. It was pretty freaking adorable to everyone else, but Chan and Changbin teased him relentlessly for it.

It was one such involuntary thought that popped into his mind now. I bet Minho would like this girl.

Jisung didn’t necessarily get the chance to talk to you one on one, but he couldn’t help but notice that your gaze often met his own and you would blush furiously and look away rapidly with a cute shy smile.

Unfortunately, you had to leave sooner than Jisung had expected, but he offered a quick compliment about your performance before you stepped away from the group with a grateful wave and retreated toward the exit.

Jisung smiled to himself as you walked away and thought to himself. Maybe I can bring hyung here next time and see if she comes. I think he would be more successful in gaining the courage to talk to her alone.

Now, with his soulmate on his mind, he couldn’t wait to get home to his gorgeous boyfriend and tell him all about the night.

__________________________________________

“It’s very nice to meet you, young lady. Since you are new to the group, please give us a brief description of why it is that you have come here today.” You huffed at the class instructor’s response to your introduction, your mood already being foul for having to wake up so early on a Saturday.

You wouldn’t say you were necessarily an angry person, just somewhat… high-strung. That is why it pissed you the fuck off that you were given a court order to attend anger management classes twice a week for a month.

You rolled your eyes as you stood next to your chair in a group full of strangers that had their own problems to deal with and didn’t have any business in having you air out your dirty laundry in front of them. “Is that really necessary?” You said with clenched teeth to the instructor.

“Recognition is the first step to identifying where your stressors lay.” Fucking smartass response.

You huffed once more before crossing your arms and standing straight to contain yourself. “My stressors are blatantly clear. Because apparently, according to public law enforcement, it is considered mutinous to bash your ex’s face in with a guitar. Even if the bastard was fucking some chick in your own goddamned bed and all he got away with was a tiny fractured nose and some blue balls.”

Your eyes were clenched shut from the fury in your statement, but they snapped open real quick when you heard a sudden chuckling from the other side of the circle. The man had warm brown hair and wore a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up. It was hard not to notice his powerful-looking thighs through his black ripped jeans, but you reestablished eye contact. Even that proved to be difficult due to the fact that his face looked like it belonged to a carefully crafted marble sculpture by a legendary artist.

“Something funny?” You couldn’t hide the venom in your tone as you forced yourself to glare at the man who was so rudely laughing at your predicament.

Instead of getting defensive of your attack, he just offered you a petty smirk. Albeit beautiful, it was still petty. “Nothing at all, please, do continue. I feel like we were just getting to the good part.” He said with an amused smile.

You felt steam rise in your ears and you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? Is your life so shitty that you must find entertainment in other's problems?” He lifted an amused eyebrow, the rest of the class dead silent as you two stared each other down. “Well, unlike you, I came here because I defended myself. When I’m sure you came because you were the abuser!” You blurted in your fit of rage and defense.

He shot out of his chair in a flash, any sign of amusement gone as you both glared into each other’s eyes with fury. “What the fuck did you just sa–?”

“Minho-ssi, please sit down immediately! Ma’am, you are finished as well. We are here to face our own problems, not stir up more.” After some grumbling and a few choice words said under your breath, both of you quietly sat down, but the glaring contest failed to waver the entire time.

Your first class was filled with feelings and trauma and pain and by the end of it, you were basically bolting out the door to wait for your ride.

You leaned up against the exterior of the building and fished a cigarette out of your purse. You knew it was a nasty habit, really disgusting actually, but after quitting for so long and having all this shit happen to you, you needed some type of stress relief.

You wrapped your lips around it and cupped your hand around the flame to avoid the breeze from the autumn air extinguishing it before you could actually light up the cancer stick. You took a huge drag from it and watched as the smoke twisted and twirled its way through the wind.

Why did you have to be here? It was his fault you were forced to come. That bastard got to fuck some random bitch and you got sentenced with a court order? How fucked up is that…

What really hurts is that you trusted him… you had been with him for a whole year, one of the longest relationships you had been in up to that point. That was an entire year of your life that you could never get back. How was he so willing to throw it all away for some quick fuck? You felt the water rise in your eyes and chalked it up to being from the cold breeze.

You sucked in a long puff again and saw ‘Minho’, or whatever in hell the instructor called him, walk past you with a taunting smirk directed at you. Without stopping or slowing down, he directed a short, “Smoking kills,” thrown in your direction.

“Tell it to someone who cares, asshole.” You spat at him as you flipped him off for good measure. He just continued to walk and you heard a light chuckle come from his plump lips.

On the bright side, he took you out of your spiraling thoughts by pissing you off again. You glared daggers at him as you watched him walk over to his ride and give a long peck on the lips to who you assumed to be his driver just standing outside waiting for him.

However, instead of hopping in the car and leaving, you saw Minho eye you and smirk as he said something to his partner. When the other man turned around to look at you, most likely because Minho was talking shit, you froze and the cigarette fell from your fingers to the ground like an ashy flurry in the wind.

Han Jisung.

That’s what he said his name was, right? Surely it was because you remembered not being able to take your eyes off of him the entire night before your violent breakup. He was so gorgeous and adorable that you could have talked to him all night and wouldn’t have been able to get over his beauty. Sure you were emotional and available that night, but he made no move to personally talk to you.

And now you knew why.

You tried to push aside the fact that he probably didn’t remember who you were and realized it kind of pissed you off that the couple looked so drop-dead gorgeous together. You composed yourself when you realized you were shamelessly checking out Minho’s boyfriend and you knew he noticed because you noted the cocky-ass smile that was painted on Minho’s features as he looked back at you and wrapped his arm around Jisung’s waist and planted a kiss on his cheek just to rub it in.

The boiling rage in you subsided when you heard your ride yell out his car window to get a move on. You escaped the stares from the men and stamped out your cigarette with the toe of your shoe before booking it to hop in the car.

“Ew, please don’t tell me you’re smoking again…” Your best friend and roommate Seungmin said as he wrinkled his nose from the smell of you.

“Can-it, Seung. I’m not in the mood today.” You huffed as you buckled your seatbelt.

He clicked his tongue and faced you before starting up the car. “Bitch, you’re never in the mood. Don’t tell me whether or not to be concerned for my friend.” You showed him an exasperated eye roll and he continued. “Don’t give me that shit. I know you’ve been going through it, but really. It’s not a desirable trait, babe.” And with that, he set off to take you home.

“And who said I want to be desirable? At this point, I’ll end my youth by giving up on all dating whatsoever. Especially if the super hot ones are secretly douchebags.” Your mind took you to Minho and how smitten he looked with Jisung. “Like, shit. It’s like I can’t escape any of the asshats in the world. Even in this stupid fucking class!”

Seungmin looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “Don’t worry about them, yeobo. They are just pieces of shit because they’ve got their own stuff going on. Don’t take it too personally.”

You sighed and leaned your head up against the window. “Easier said than done, Seung.”

__________________________________________

The following Wednesday morning was your next session and you sat as far away as humanly possible from Minho. However, it kind of backfired when you realized that it put you on the direct opposite end of the circle from the little shit, making it impossible to ignore him while he was directly in your line of vision.

“Okaaay, good morning everyone! It looks like everyone’s here, let’s begin! How has everyone been since our last session?” She had a bright smile on her face and was way too peppy for eight o’clock in the morning. You, on the other hand, were warming your hands with the necessary cup of coffee you needed to get through the class.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to the other patron’s rambling, you were surprised to see the usually non participating Minho raise his hand. The instructor seemed shocked as well. “Oh! Minho-ssi! Please, go ahead!” Again, way too cheerful.

“My apologies, teach. But aren’t food and drinks prohibited in this class?” He didn’t break eye contact with you throughout the entire, headass sentence that spewed from his lips.

You cowered in your seat when the whole class turned to look directly at you. “Ah, yes. Ehm… I’m sorry sweetie, but you’ll have to throw that away…” You looked absolutely baffled.

“Seriously? It’s just one fucking cup of coffee!” The rising anger seeped through your words. That motherfucker…

The instructor looked to you imploringly. “I know, I know. But take a deep breath. It IS just ONE cup of coffee. Nothing to get worked up over, yeah? How about we all take a fifteen break and you can finish it outside, okay?”

Instead of responding, you stood up out of your chair and marched to the front door.

Coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, you nestled yourself even further into your coat, attempting to retain any heat that was being siphoned away from you in the late fall weather. You closed your eyes after taking a large gulp and a long drag, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t march in there and pummel that asshole into the ground.

“Still smoking, huh?” You squeaked and jumped at the voice that was suddenly right next to you, causing you to drop your cigarette. Fucking again??

You held your hand over your heart and muttered ‘motherfucker’ under your breath as you collected yourself. The man of the hour just stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Aw, what is it, princess? Not happy to see me?” He said patronizingly with a head tilt that you refused to acknowledge as cute. You glowered at the man and aggressively stamped out your cigarette with your boot and, without a word, you looked him dead in the eye as you made a show to throw away your coffee. With an amused smile on his lips, you brushed past him to go back inside, aggressively shoving his shoulder in the process.

The class was agonizingly slow as you tried your hardest to not give in to Minho’s silent taunts the whole time. When you were, once again, waiting for your ride out front, you stiffened as you felt a presence saddle up to stand next to you. “Minho, I’ve had enough of your shit to last a lifetime. You can kindly fuck right off.” You muttered as you refused to look at him.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” When you refused to respond to him, he deliberately stepped in your line of vision and you could feel your blood boil once again. “I’m surprised to see your cigaretteless hands. They’re quite pretty that way.” He smirked.

“Well, you’re pretty fucking annoying! My bad habits are none of your concern!” In the back of your mind, you recognized you were raising your voice, but you were too caught up in the moment to even give a damn.

“So you admit it’s a bad habit?” He raised a brow at you and you huffed a sarcastic laugh.

“I have no problem admitting that. I even quit for a while, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Why’d you start again?”

You looked at him incredulously. “I said it’s none of your goddamned business! Why the fuck are you even talking to me?!” Your arms made a grand gesture to drive the point across.

“I think it’s entertaining as hell to piss you off.” There was no hesitation in his statement as he looked down at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

“You–!” You heard a throat clear from beside you and you jolted a tiny bit. Now that you had your angry tunnel vision cleared, you noticed a couple of things. First, Jisung was the one that had silently approached. And second, you found that, in your fit of rage, you and Minho had gravitated dangerously close.

You basically jumped back and cleared your own throat to compose yourself as you resumed your previous post. “Hi!” You looked at Jisung with wide eyes as he greeted you. “I see you’ve met my temperamental boyfriend.” He chuckled as he looked at said man with adoration in his eyes and, for some reason, it made you feel… lonely.

“Oh, um, yeah...” Oh yeah, reeeal intelligent response. You thought as you internally rolled your eyes at yourself.

He chuckled and you thought his smile warmed the entire ten-yard radius around you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He said a bit bashfully as he looked down with a small smile.

Your eyes popped open even wider and you waved your hands in front of yourself in denial. “N-no! Of course, I remember you! Jisung, right? From 3RACHA?”

He instantly lit up again and Minho shifted uncomfortably. “The one and only! I was afraid I didn’t leave a good enough impression for you to remember.” Again, Jisung said with a shy smile.

“Far from it! It’s hard to forget such talent. Really!” Jisung lit up even more at your words.

“Okay, what the fuck is happening? How do you two know each other?” Minho said, interjecting rather rudely if you do say so yourself. Your mood instantly soured again.

“Shush, jagi. Don’t be so rude. I met her at our usual bar where me and the guys perform. She opened for us a couple of weeks ago. You should hear her sing, she’s phenomenal! Plus, she plays the guitar like an angel.”

You blushed and looked down, failing to hide a smile from your lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it like that…” You humbly offered.

“Is this the famous guitar you bashed your boyfriend’s face in with?” Minho asked while failing to repress his laugh.

“You what?!” Han said as he looked at you with shocked eyes.

You glowered at Minho and huffed. “I think you mean EX boyfriend. And, not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I broke his nose along with my favorite guitar. Now I regret not using something else to swing at that fucker.” You crossed your arms and cast your gaze away from the two, feeling the regret return all over again from hurting your precious instrument.

“Ahhh, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around there lately. What a shame. That guitar was a real beauty.” You just sighed and nodded your head in defeat as you returned your attention to Jisung. “Well, in the meantime, if you want to borrow my guitar I’d happily lend it to you.”

His smile was genuine and your eyes widened. “What?! N-no, I could never! I mean, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no way I’d be able to be comfortable with someone else's guitar…” You were exasperated but mumbled a few last words. “I guess it would feel a bit too… intimate?” You had your eyes glued to the ground but you spared a look up at him.

He bit his lip with a smile and Minho’s face also housed an expression that made you feel suddenly hot with embarrassment. Jisung took a step closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.” He said with a crooked smile, making you a bit faint for a moment before you composed yourself and looked back at his eyes and offered a small smile and a nod.

“Okay, well as much as I would love to stand here and watch you eye fuck each other, we’ve got places to be. C’mon Hannie baby.” Minho made a move to grab Jisung’s hand and you watched them interlace fingers as Jisung showed Minho a teasing smile and pressed his side into him.

“Oh? Would you rather have her eye fuck you?” Minho’s eyes went wide and he instinctually glanced at you before returning them to his boyfriend. “I mean, look at her, hyung…” Jisung directed him and his boyfriends attention toward you again and you were sure you were as red as a tomato as he talked. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Jisung’s taunting eyes moved over you and slowly turned more serious. “Talented too.”

Before you even knew how to react, Jisung wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and then the other around you, making you freeze in shock at his boldness. He huddled the three of you close, as if he were about to tell a secret.

“Should I tell her what you told me about her yesterday? About how all she needs is to be tamed by filling her mouth with a huge, pulsating co–”

Jisung was cut off when Minho slapped a hand over his mouth and fixed him with a deadly glare. However, when he was released, Jisung broke out in contagious giggles that transferred over to your own mouth. Jisung released both of you as he held his stomach in a fit of laughter.

You peeked at Minho with a hand over your mouth, partially from laughter and partially to hide the pure astonishment from his alleged comment. When he met eyes with you, he scowled and addressed Jisung without backing down on his intense glare. “Are you fucking happy now? C’mon, Sung, we’re going.” Without waiting for an answer, Minho then proceeded to drag his giddy boyfriend to the parking lot as Jisung winked goodbye at you.

Little did you know, Seungmin had seen the whole thing. You sighed and groaned internally. Well, this is going to be interesting…

Once you had prepared yourself for the onslaught of questioning, you hopped in the car as the man drove you home and did, indeed, grill you for details.

__________________________________________

What the fuck was his problem? Minho had been staring daggers into you the entire first half of class and you couldn’t fathom why. He was always the one pissing you off. That fucker had no right to be pissed! (Even if he looked extremely sexy over there, slumped in his chair with his full focus on you. Lips parted and brows furrowed.)

Under different circumstances, you’d be on your knees in a heartbeat if someone looked at you like that.

During break, you went outside and habitually lit a cigarette. You needed some distraction from the fiery ball of rage that was Lee Minho.

Right as you took your first drag, a hand swooped out and grabbed it from you. You watched in outrage as Minho threw the barely-used cancer stick on the ground and stomped it out. Your revolted expression whipped to face him and burned into his eyes. Before you could breathe a word, he bracketed you up against the wall, effectively stealing the air from your lungs and stunning you to silence.

“I bet you thought that was pretty fucking funny yesterday, huh?” He growled from just inches away from your face.

You huffed a scoff that didn’t show on your frozen face. “What? Watching your face turn an adorable shade of pink? Yeah, I thought it was pretty fucking funny.” You refused to back down. “In fact, I sympathize with what you said yesterday. I, too, find it amusing as hell to piss you off.”

Even though he already had you pressed up against the wall, he inched his beautiful face even closer to you. Definitely not thinking about how cute the freckle on his nose is or plump his lips are or how you could feel his breath on your lips or how his eyes held galaxies in them as he stared into your soul… Yeah, DEFINITELY none of that was on your mind…

“Well congratulations, you succeeded.” His brows furrowed more and you smirked.

“What? It’s not my fault you were having naughty thoughts about me.” Your eyes involuntarily flitted down to his lips and you watched in stunned silence as his eyes did the same.

You both realized how close you had gotten, almost pressed against each other, before he quickly stepped back and cleared his throat. “I… I didn’t… You just… Ugh!” He stumbled over his words for a response and just ended up storming away and back into the building.

From glaring at you the entire first half, he now wouldn’t dare look you in the eye. He almost looked like he was pouting and you couldn’t help but find it a little cute…

For some reason, on your way out after class, you saw the instructor call for Minho to stay behind. You didn’t find it necessary to snoop, so you went on your merry way, only to run face-first into Jisung as soon as you got outside.

“Woah! Hey there, gorgeous!” He said with a bright smile as he held you by the arms to stabilize you from your crash into him. You looked down and blushed with a smile, a bit intimidated by having his full attention. You felt a bit more at ease once he released you.

“H-Hi Jisung. I think Minho’s talking to the instructor.” You explained, thinking he was wondering where his boyfriend was.

“Oh, okay! Well, how’ve you been since I saw you last week? I know you’ve been on Min’s mind an awful lot.” He said casually with a chuckle.

What? No way.

“Are we talking about the same Minho? The one who almost throttled me for laughing at him last week?” You huffed a half-chuckle in disbelief and raised a brow.

“He almost did what now?” He sounded shocked but intrigued all the same.

“Yeah! He pushed me up against the wall during break time and grilled me!”

Jisung’s face grew a wry smile and he stepped an inch closer. “Oh he did, did he? Very interesting…” You were a bit apprehensive considering his tone. His eyes darted over your shoulder briefly before looking back at you and digging in his pocket. You were a bit dumbfounded when he held his phone out to you.

“Well, while he’s standing in the doorway watching us…” He said, trying to suppress his smile. You had to force yourself to not look behind you. “Give me your number and I promise we can rile him up a bit more, yeah?”

A smile slowly bloomed on your face and you tentatively took the phone from him. “I like the way you think, my friend.” You tapped away your contact on his phone and saved your name as ‘Angry Bitch’ with a smug smile.

He guffawed as he read it and briefly sent you a text to share his number as well, naming himself in-text ‘Sexy Quokka’. You shared a small giggle yourself and were startled when you felt gentle fingers brush across your cheek. “You have such a pretty smile…” He said with a soft grin that made your ears instantly turn red.

You were knocked from your reverie when you felt a not-so-gentle hand grab your shoulder and quickly spin you around. “Are you just trying to get on my bad side?” You crossed your arms and raised a brow at him in defiance.

“Does that mean you actually have a good side? I’m shocked!” You exclaimed in mock surprise.

The side of his lip curled up in an outrageous sneer. Again, he came within an inch of your face. “What the fuck is your deal?! First, you rat me out to the teacher and said I was being violent during break–” What?? “And now you decide to start whoring around my boyfriend?!”

Ouch.

Whore. That word cut you deep. Some people found it hot during sex, others just think it’s another word. For you, it was what your ex would constantly berate you as. Any time you came home late from work? Whore. If you told him you wanted to actually orgasm during sex? Whore. If you even glanced at another man. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear those words from Minho’s mouth and he seemed to notice as he backed off and furrowed his brows. You felt the stupid, angry tears well up in your eyes. Angry from his words and angry with how Minho and Jisung were looking at you now. Surprise. Regret. Concern.

“H-Hey… I didn’t mea–” You refused to let Minho finish the sentence as you turned around and started walking.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” You heard Jisung say right before you shut the door to Seungmin’s car.

“Everything alri–”

“Just go. Please.” You said calmly to avoid Seungmin’s questioning and, thankfully, he got the hint as the two of you drove home in silence.

__________________________________________

You didn’t feel like going to your next class, too afraid to encounter Minho. But the instructor wasn’t having it. After you missed class, you got a call from her reminding you that this was a court order and you were required to complete the entire course.

So, with that in mind, you sluggishly dragged yourself out of bed the following class, not giving two shits that you were arriving late, and slumped down in the only chair available.

Right. Next. To. Minho.

You refused to look at him. Refused to acknowledge his existence, even, as the lesson went on. When your break started, you bolted to the bathroom to hide before he could get a single word out. Not for a lack of trying…

You could feel his eyes burn into you the entirety of the second half of class, too. Just when you were about to bolt again when class was dismissed, you felt a gentle hand grab your wrist. “Please. Just… just hear me out…” You refused to look at him, but you made no move to leave. You heard him sigh as he released your hand. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” And that was all you felt the need to say before you turned and left before he could stop you again.

You felt a cold breeze flit past you when you stepped out of the building and you took a deep breath of fresh air, only to run straight into someone when you rounded the corner.

Of. Fucking. Course.

Just like last time, Jisung’s hands grabbed you to stabilize you, but this time he didn’t release you. “Do you make a habit of running into people?” He mused as he flashed a guarded smile at you.

You brushed off his hands and stepped back. “It’s not like I try to. Sorry…” You refused to look him in the eye and you began to walk off, but you were halted by another presence stepping in your path.

And there the couple stood, side by side, fully focused on you as you looked up at them like a kicked puppy. You heard Jisung sigh heavily before you looked at him again.

“Look, please just hear us out. If you still don’t forgive us, I give you permission to slap us silly, okay?” They both looked at you with the most adorable pouty eyes and you crossed your arms.

“Just get on with it…”

Minho let out a large sigh and bit his lip before speaking. “I talked to the teacher and she told me that another classmate saw us outside last week and they were the ones who told her. I…” Your eyes were fixed on his frustrated features as he paused. “I’m sorry I blamed you… And I’m sorry for what I said… I know you’re not a whore, I was just pissed off…”

You winced at the word again and he definitely noticed.

Jisung decided to speak up. “And it’s my fault for riling him up anyway. I’m just sorry I got you stuck in the middle of it…” Jisung looked genuinely apologetic and you slightly slumped in defeat.

However, you tensed up again when you were basically electrocuted by the sensation of Minho resting his hand on your shoulder and looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I just… you make me… I can’t… ugh…” His hand flew to his hair in frustration and your mind betrayed you for wanting to run your hands through those silky chocolate locks yourself. “Look, I don’t know what I’m trying to say… I just–”

“It’s fine.” You said as you calmly cut him off. “It’s nothing, just forget about it.” Your face held no emotion and his brows turned inward.

“I can’t just forget about it… I hurt you…”

You scoffed. “Since when did you care about that? Like I said, just forget it, I definitely know that I want to.” You took note of the frustration and sorrow that was painted across his face and you had to stop yourself from grabbing his hand when he finally released your shoulder.

You froze in place when he, instead, stepped up closer to you and looked down into your eyes. “I do care…” You were speechless. Why in the world would he care about you? You were no one to them.

Jisung stepped closer as well and you felt extremely small under their intimidating towering. “How about we take you out to dinner tonight? As a peace offering?” You narrowed your eyes tentatively and Jisung quickly spoke again. “Y-you can even order the most expensive food and drinks! Completely on us! And we can go wherever you like!”

You giggled at his rambling and you were sure you saw both of them slump in relief as the unwelcome tension that blanketed the area finally lifted. You looked down at your feet (partially to avoid their intense eye contact) and you deliberated.

You barely know these men. It wouldn’t be the brightest idea to go out with complete strangers anyway, let alone one with anger issues! You don’t know what caused it, it could be anything! But… for some reason, they seem trustworthy… Even after what happened last week, Jisung didn’t harass you with constant texts and he respected your distance. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t been out in a while and it would be nice to have a free meal and some drinks…

You let out a big sigh and looked back up at them. Fine, what the hell. “What time?” You had to bite back your endeared smile when you witnessed their faces light up in delight. Even if Minho quickly corrected himself and forced himself to look unaffected.

“A-any time you like!” Jisung babbled. “If you want, just text me the time and place and we’ll be there!”

You both looked at Minho after he briefly cleared his throat. “Or… um… we could pick you up at yours? So you don’t have to find a ride… and you’re safe getting home and stuff.” He didn’t look at you as he talked and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Well this is a new look for him…

Jisung smiled endearingly at him and rubbed his back before looking back at you. “Does that sound alright to you?”

You considered, thinking it would be nice to not have to resort to Seungmin’s help for yet another reason and also while avoiding public transport. You smirked at Minho who had returned his eyes to you. “Okay, but on one condition.” They both looked like they were readying themselves for the worst-case scenario and you giggled. “Minho has to tell me what he did to get into this class.”

Jisung widened his eyes and looked at his boyfriend who seemed as cool as a cucumber. “Deal.” He said confidently and a smile instantly spread across your face. “But only after we get to the restaurant.”

You nodded your head once and stuck out your hand. “Deal.” He looked at your hand tentatively and slowly raised his hand to give you a light shake. His skin felt like a million degrees and you felt a shiver itching to course through your bones, but you remained vigilant in hiding just how much that small touch affected you.

When Minho dropped your hand, Jisung reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “See you later, then, gorgeous.” He quickly shot you a wink and then the pair walked back to their car, hand-in-hand.

“Seungmin, whatever you’re going to say, I would highly advise against it.” You grumbled as you got in the car to be faced with his shit-eating grin.

You narrowed your eyes into slits at his smug smile as he started the car. “Whatever do you mean? I surely wasn’t going to say anything about your intense closeness to those two attractive men and how much you were blushing like a lovesick teenager. I would never!” His voice rang sarcastically.

You felt your blush deepen, but rather than retorting back, you settled for punching his arm and pouting as he laughed at you the entire way back home.

__________________________________________

You anxiously looked at yourself in the mirror and felt stupid. You shouldn’t really care what they thought… They were gay! And taken! And it shouldn’t even matter what you wore! But…

You assessed your wardrobe and couldn’t help but think of what these two extremely attractive men would find most appealing. You decided to wear a short blood-red, tight-fit dress with a low cut that made your boobs look amazing if you do say so yourself. You wore thigh-high black steletto boots and topped it off with a cozy-looking black sweater/cardigan that hung down past the length of your dress so you could appear somewhat modest.

“Well someone’s looking quite spicy tonight. Where are you headed?” Seungmin said with amusement buzzing in his lungs from the door frame to your room.

You just smiled smugly at him. “Your mom’s house, apparently she’s into women now.” You winked at him and you saw him roll his eyes exaggeratingly before turning back to the mirror.

“Well, I’m gonna spend the night at Jeongin’s place tonight so you can have the place to yourself and… whatever poor soul you’re going to be tormenting tonight.” You quickly turned and threw one of your makeup brushes at him before he scampered out of the room with a cute giggle.

You were just putting on the final touches of your makeup when you heard the doorbell ring. You whipped your head around and saw Seungmin in the hallway giving you that same Cheshire smile before he walked off to answer the door.

Shit.

You grabbed your purse and chased after him to stop the impending disaster, but it was too late… “Oh shit! I’m sorry, I must have the wrong apartment!” Jisung said as he leaned back to look at the door number while Minho stared speculatively at Seungmin.

“No no no! You have the right one! Coming!” Your mouth poured out before you brushed past Seungmin and out the door to join the two men with flabbergasted faces who were shamelessly checking you out. Odd… “Later Seung!” You shot behind you to your roommate before dragging Minho and Jisung outside by their arms.

“Woah woah woah! Slow it down, why don’t you?” Minho said, pulling his hand out of your grasp once you were out of the building. You stopped and turned around to look at him challengingly, but your mindset screeched to a halt when you looked at the pair standing side by side.

They were drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, they had god-like beauty on an average day but now? Now they had outdone themselves.

Jisung had on a neat, white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his toned forearms. His baggy jeans were of a designer brand and his hair was styled off his face to show ce his impeccable skin in full force.

Minho, on the other hand, was wearing a black, knit sweater with a deep V cut that was outlined with gaps in the knitting that showed off his impeccable pecs. His black pants were super tight fit and your eyes widened when you saw the size of his muscular thighs. His hair was slightly wavy and disheveled which gave him an even sexier demeanor.

Both of them had a dusting of makeup and you couldn’t help but blatantly run your eyes over the entirety of them. Thankfully, neither of them noticed because they were also wearing similar expressions as their gaze roved over your body.

You swallowed thickly and decided to break the silence. “You… You guys clean up nice…” You cursed yourself for sounding so breathless.

Jisung blinked rapidly as if he was dropped back into reality and he cleared his throat. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?! You’re absolutely gorgeous! Minnie, look at her!” He said as he swatted his boyfriend’s arm.

“Oh trust me, I’m looking…” Minho said so low you almost missed it. Watching him look at you with fire in his eyes made your insides turn. When he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, he also cleared his throat and looked away. Bright red quickly coated his face and neck. “I-I mean, yeah. You look… different…” He rubbed his neck and side-eyed you. Before you could react, he spoke up once more. “That guy looks like the guy who picks you up from class. And his nose didn’t look broken... You get a new boyfriend?”

They both looked apprehensive and it took you a moment to realize who he was referring to. “What? Seungmin? No no no no!” You gave a nervous chuckle and averted your eyes from their piercing gaze. “No… ahem– No, Seungmin’s just a friend who let me live with him after my breakup. I’m–” You cut yourself off, not knowing if it was pertinent information to share, but their waiting faces led you to continue. “I’m still single…” You murmured with an awkward chuckle, cheeks most likely a tad bit rosy.

Jisung’s bright smile eased the tension in the air. “Very interesting…” He lilted with a half-smirk that looked unbelievingly sexy. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! He puffed out a big sigh and looped his arm around Minho’s bicep, to which the elder responded by placing his free hand on the one the younger had wrapped around his arm. “So, beautiful, where are we taking you tonight? Club? Five-star restaurant? The moon?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes and you saw the corners of Minho’s lips slightly lift up. “Get in and I’ll give you directions.” You said, strutting past them and waiting patiently by the car as they curiously followed you.

__________________________________________

“Really? Out of all the places you could have chosen, you take us to the bar Hannie performs at?” Minho asked with a raised brow as the three of you sat side-by-side at the bar. For some reason, instead of sitting together, they sat on either side of you. Maybe it was in case you tried to bail… You chuckled as you thought to yourself.

“Well, yeah. It’s cheap, the drinks are good, the vibe is chill, and the food doesn’t taste half bad.” You shrugged your shoulders as the bartender walked up and took your orders, not even batting an eye that you were going to be eating at the bar seating as opposed to the booths. “Plus, I have good memories here…” You smiled to yourself, remembering the time you were scared shitless when you performed publicly for the first time.

“Why’s that, sweetheart? Because this is where you first met me?” Jisung said with a wry smile and sultry voice that made you melt. He leaned in close to tease you and you were dizzy just from the smell of him.

You swatted his arm and laughed. “No! This is where I first performed live! I was a complete trainwreck and I’m pretty sure my guitar was out of tune, but it was the best day of my life.” You said wistfully with a sigh as you turned around in your seat to look at the musicians casually performing on the little stage in the corner of the room.

“I feel left out! I haven’t seen you play!” Minho whined while nudging your arm, the other two men turning around on the bar stools to watch your fellow bar patrons as well.

Jisung leaned forward to smirk at his boyfriend. “Awww is Minnie jealous?” He cooed while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You stiffened and all of your senses honed in on the direct contact between you two.

Minho huffed. “As if.” He looked smug as he crossed his arms and looked straight again to declare confidently. “I hang out with her way more often than you do, jagi.”

“I would hardly count us bickering all morning twice a week as ‘hanging out’, Minho.” You challenged with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but it’s so much fun. It’s my favorite part of the week!” He said with an evil sneer as he leaned close to you.

You tried to not show how much his proximity was affecting you, but it was extremely difficult. “Oh joy. I feel so very honored. You just thrive on watching me squirm, don’t you?” You scoffed as you turned to look at him haughtily.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, princess…” He murmured in a sultry tone that made your eyes widen and your ears turn bright red. You felt the arm around your shoulder tighten as you watched Minho bite his lip and lean even closer with an evil grin.

You didn’t know why, but the air was thick with tension and you were almost hyperventilating with the closeness of the boys around you.

“Here you guys go! Let me know when you’re ready for more drinks!” You completely jumped out of your skin when the bartender spoke up behind you, causing the boys to laugh as they turned back around to eat.

These boys are not good for my heart…

__________________________________________

Once the three of you finished your food, you ended up staying for hours just talking about shit-all and you found yourself loosening up more and more. Which you were sure the drinks contributed to.

You were all laughing and playfully bickering as the three of you walked to the car. However, all of a sudden, one particular thought was automatically snapped into place in your brain and you screeched to a halt in your tracks. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot!” The boys turned to look at you with confusion etched into their features as you all stood by the car.

You suddenly marched up to Minho and, in your slightly inebriated mindset, you thought it would be a good idea to move your face a mere few inches away from his own unsuspecting one.

“You, mister, have to tell me why you’re in anger management with me!” You huffed as you placed your index finger smack-dab in the middle of his chest to drive the point home.

You felt his warm breath blow across your lips as he exhaled a shaky sigh. “I… I…” His eyes were rapidly blinking and he seemed to be at a loss for words as he struggled to form any sort of sound from his open mouth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp your shoulders and a hot breeze tickled your ear. “How about…” You felt Jisung pull you a bit closer and his lips were dangerously close to your neck. “...we discuss it when we get back to your place, yeah?”

You let out your own shaky breath and you held back your trembling when you saw pure, carnal desire painted across Minho’s face. Jisung’s surely going to be destroyed tonight when they get home…

The thought actually did make you shiver this time and you felt the arms around you squeeze your shoulders slightly. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Jisung whispered in your ear and you could only bring yourself to dumbly nod in compliance just to be led to the car by the hand.

The drive was very tense for some reason and you didn’t know why these men were affecting you so much! They’re gay. They are boyfriends. Don’t have these useless thoughts about them… You told yourself as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together.

“Um…” You muttered as you stood outside your apartment door, both of the boys looking at you as if they were waiting for something. You picked your gaze up from the ground to look at them and you saw Minho looking straight past you and into the open door of your apartment.

You were about to do a very stupid thing.

“S-Seungmin’s not home… in case you were wondering…” You watched Minho look back at you with a raised brow before he turned his eyes to look into your apartment again, Jisung watching him with crossed arms and an amused smirk. “Um…” You sputtered again. “Would you guys like to come in?”

Jisung shot you a dashing smile and you had to bite back your smile. “I thought you’d never ask!”

After more alcoholic beverages were served (because you definitely needed it to get through the night) and you were all settled on the couch, the two men sat on either side of you again. Were these motherfuckers trying to kill you?!

Minho cleared his throat before he broached the impending topic. “Sooo… about class…” You whipped your head to look at his sheepish expression and fully faced him in eagerness to hear him out. “I might have possibly hospitalized one of Jisung’s exes…”

“WHAT?!” You exclaimed with eyes as wide as saucers. “What the fuck do you mean you hospitalized him?!” You were sure the apparent shock was written all over your features and you felt a gentle hand plant itself on your knee from the other side of you.

“No no no, it’s nothing that serious.” Han peered around you to scowl at his boyfriend. “You see hyung? This is why people are scared of you!” He did have a point, Minho was terribly frightening when he wanted to be… Jisung looked back at you and rubbed his thumb over the bare skin of your leg. “The bastard was stalking me and, when I got off work one day, he cornered me and tried to…” Jisung closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. “He tried to… force himself on me…”

You hadn’t even realized you had put a hand over your mouth in bewilderment until Minho quickly placed his hand over the one Jisung had on your leg and you don’t think you had ever seen Minho look so… soft. “It’s okay, jagi… you don’t have to talk about it…” Jisung offered him a sad smile and solemnly nodded. Without a word, you froze when Minho retreated his hand from Jisung’s and, instead, placed it on your other knee. All of your senses and nerves were focused on their touch and you felt like you couldn’t see or hear anything else around you.

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE THESE FUCKING HUNK GODS FUCKING DOING TO YOU WITH THEIR WARM HANDS AND BEAUTIFUL FACES AND SEXY-ASS BODIES THAT MADE YOU WANT TO JUMP ON THEM AND DEVOUR THEM WHOLE?! You were surely going to die that night.

You hoped and prayed that they didn’t notice your furious blushing. “Anyway, luckily, I found him before anything happened, and I…” Minho glanced at you tentatively. “I may have broken his leg…” Your eyes widened. “And, uh, his arm too?” He bit his lip before continuing. “And I maybe also cracked one or two of his ribs…” You leaned back toward Jisung and they both squeezed each of your knees simultaneously.

“Wh-what?!” He offered a somewhat complacent smile and Jisung spoke up.

“You were incredibly lucky he didn’t press charges…” He muttered.

“Yeah well, considering the fact I would have sold him out as a rapist, I’d say he got off pretty easy…” Minho said, directing an annoyed huff off to the side.

“So he’s still out there?!” Minho scowled at your outburst and, instead of pulling away, he firmly squeezed your knee.

“What? Would you prefer I have a felony on my record?” He spat.

“Minnie–”

“No–!” Minho cut Jisung’s unspoken words short and glared at you once more. “News flash princess, he would have been released to the public either way!” He argued with a raised voice.

You scowled and spat right back at him. “Well, he should have had some sort of legal reprimanding!”

His grip on your knee was almost painfully tight and you ignored the stirring in your core that it caused. He leaned toward you with a lethally calm voice. “You little–”

“Oh my GOD! Just kiss already!” Jisung yelled from your other side and restlessly slid his hand just marginally higher up on your leg.

His outburst brought you crashing back down to earth with incredible velocity and you quickly realized the position you were in. Minho, who wore the same furious expression as you, had slid his hand up as well, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. You and him had also been bringing your faces closer and closer in your fit of rage and he was only a mere few inches from your face.

Before your scowl could morph into a stupid state of astonishment, you instantly felt Minho’s hand grab the base of your neck. You found yourself being roughly turned away from him and immediately pushed towards his boyfriend. He then proceeded to smash your faces together and, as if Jisung was already anticipating it, he instantly cupped your face and slammed his lips against yours. All the while, their other hands never left your legs.

Once your lips touched down on his pouty lips, your body wasn’t your own anymore. You gasped into his mouth and then felt some sort of beast come alive in you, one that was solely fueled by your still-burning rage.

You let loose. Your arms looped around his neck and, when you felt his tongue peek out to tangle with yours, you arched your back from where you were pinned to the couch by their strong hands. A deep moan vibrated in your vocal cords when you felt Jisung’s hand slowly gravitate up your thigh.

That was when you were redirected once more.

Jisung’s other hand was strong but gentle as he switched from cupping your cheek to grabbing your jaw and quickly turning your head to push you towards Minho once more. You gasped again as you got a brief glimpse of Minho’s (sexy as fuck) furiously ravenous face before you were now connected to his lips.

Your hands automatically flew to his hair and you took your anger out on his beautiful brown locks. The tugging and abuse of the hair between your fingers earned a delicious growl from in between his lips and you took advantage of that to lick into his mouth. When you felt his bruising grip drift to the inside of your thigh, you took it upon yourself to clumsily rid your body of the quickly overwhelming heat of your sweater.

When you felt Jisung’s hand rub up and down your inner thigh, you pulled Minho away by his hair and turned back to Jisung. He was more than happy to lock lips with you, but it seemed like Minho wasn’t done with you as you felt him bite down hard on the base of your neck. You threw your head back against the couch as you cried out.

“You’re a fucking brat, aren’t you?” Minho hissed as he attached his lips to your neck and began biting and sucking every inch he could get his mouth on.

“A goddamned delicious brat…” Jisung added huskily as his tongue traced its way across your clavicle. You were in heaven and hell at the same time and you felt like, if you weren’t fucked right this instant, you would surely die.

One particularly hard bite from Minho had your hips bucking into the air and their hands were eager to make the journey underneath your dress. Your drenched panties were quickly rendered useless as the men desperately tore them off of you. On one side, Minho ran his finger through your dripping folds to begin furiously playing with your clit. On the other hand, Jisung made the plunge and sunk a finger inside you, making you cry out once more.

You were thrashing in their grip, Jisung with his unoccupied arm around your waist, and Minho with his firm grip on your hair.

You were so close to your peak that you could almost cry from the amount of pleasure. However, when Minho and Jisung looked at each other with that same intense passion, desperately connecting lips and tongues while continuing to pleasure you, that sealed the deal. You came so hard that you were almost dizzy from it and the men separated to revel in the sight of your orgasm. “That’s it, shake for us, baby,” Jisung murmured as he kissed the swell of your breast that peeked out of your dress.

“How pathetic. Couldn’t even hold out to cum on our cocks.” Minho challenged and you stared daggers at him.

Without further notice, you tore yourself from them and straddled Minho, pinning his arms to the couch and directing your seething face at him. “Oh, you have no idea how many times I can cum, princess. But it all depends if your useless cocks are able to get the job done.” He gave you a bone-chilling sneer in response to your challenge, but before he could respond, you grabbed Jisung by his shirt collar and yanked him over to join you where you straddled his boyfriend.

You made a show of licking up the column of his neck as he groaned and then you moved to whisper against his lips. “Want to show him how it’s done, Ji?” He smiled against your lips and murmured.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grabbed your hand and Minho watched in amazement as you hastily dragged his boyfriend to your bedroom.

You then proceeded to lift Jisung and throw him on the bed, quickly straddling him as the pair stared at you in amazement of your strength. “Hot damn, girl! You’re strong as hell!” Minho said with astonishment in his voice.

“Shit, that’s hot as fuck…” Jisung mumbled before he grabbed your neck and pulled you down to crush your lips against his. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your lips when he rolled his clothed erection against your glistening cunt.

You whined against his lips and spoke between rushed kisses. “Sungie… need you…” Your declaration snapped Minho into action and he rushed to your side.

“Condoms?” He said, sounding slightly breathless as he palmed himself.

“Drawer.” You signaled with your head towards your nightstand and he quickly returned with the two rubbers. You were eternally grateful to yourself for keeping them ‘just in case’ anything were to happen after your breakup.

They took a moment to ogle you when you stripped yourself of your dress and displayed the lean muscles that were usually hidden behind your clothes.

“Fuck…” They both breathed in tandem and you internally patted yourself on the back for staying fit and muscular. Especially if you earned those kinds of reactions.

Your impatience showed as you tore off your bra, the last article of clothing on you due to your panties already being in tatters somewhere on the living room carpet. You had barely even discarded the item before two sets of lips were on each nipple. You, once again, threw your head back and ground down against the man below you.

He released your nipple with a deep groan and you used the opportunity to claw at his shirt to rid him of it. You gave up once he took over and, instead, focused your efforts on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You shimmied off of him so he could quickly yank off his jeans and boxers and your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Shit, this boy is PACKING.

He used your ogling to his advantage and he pushed you on your back, hovering over you with a smirk as he lazily stroked his cock. “Just sit back and enjoy, sweetheart. We’ve got all night…”

THANK GOD.

He slid on the rubber and was about to start fingering you before you halted his movements. “Please, Jisung. I need you now!”

He looked at you apprehensively, fingers lazily circling your inner thigh. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you…”

You roughly pulled him down so he was a hair’s breadth away from your mouth. “Angel, I love the stretch. Do your worst.” You saw a darkness in his eyes that you had yet to see and he leaned back to position himself as he looked down at where you two connected.

He looked back up at you with his gaze ablaze and he watched your face as he slammed his cock inside you with a force that took you by surprise.

You almost choked on the gasp you produced and your vision was blinded with a white light for a moment. You saw the muscles in his strong chest and abdomen contract and relax in between kisses as he started to plow into you with labored breaths.

“Fuck, yes! Show him, Ji…” You crooned and Jisung gave you a wicked smile before he processed your words. However, he instantly cowered when Minho stood on your bed to loom over the younger boy, clothes completely discarded.

“Hyung…” Jisung groaned as his thrusts continued at a steady pace.

Minho only responded with hooded lids and a domineering expression as he held his (otherworldly beautiful) cock up to Jisung’s spit-slick lips. “Go ahead, Hannie baby. Show me how it’s done.” His voice was deadly calm and there was a hidden threat underlying his words that made Jisung instantly respond.

You had to give it to him, you were impressed.

Jisung’s hips never faltered or slowed down as he gulped down his boyfriend’s (also unreasonably large) cock. Minho hissed between his teeth at the much-needed stimulation and he turned his head to you with a cocky grin.

Still looking at you, he began petting Jisung’s disheveled hair. “That’s a good boy…” He said glancing lovingly down at his lover before looking back at you. “See? Even while making you squirm, my baby boy knows who properly wrecks him.” He bit his lip and continued to revel in the enigma that was Han Jisung and his multitasking expertise.

When you heard a faint gag come from the younger’s mouth, you saw Minho lose his composure for a split second before grabbing the boy’s hair and freeing himself from the wet heat that surrounded him. Jisung whined, but only grasped your hips harder, shoving himself deeper and bringing you closer and closer.

“You’re too good at that baby…” Minho spoke in a sultry tone as he finally knelt down on the mattress as well. He kept his hand rooted in the younger's hair as he brought two of his fingers to Jisung’s mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me, love?” Jisung nodded eagerly and quickly slathered the digits with his saliva, sucking, licking, and slobbering on them until they were dripping. Once Minho deemed the job properly done, he pulled back his hand and gave his boyfriend a light peck before whispering against his lips. “Now ruin that cunt of hers so I can properly fuck the bitchiness out of her. Yeah?”

Jisung exhaled a slight chuckle before turning back to you with a smirk. “Oh you’re in for it now, honey…” When Minho finally released him, the beautiful, round-faced sweetheart turned into an insatiable demon. You braced yourself when his beautiful hands grabbed your ankles and stretched them all the way up over your head, properly folding you in half.

You had no clue how he managed to do it, but every single thrust after that nailed you right in the center of your g-spot and you threw your head back with a loud cry.

You soon found out what Minho planned to do with those soaked fingers of his when he moved to crouch at your side on the mattress. He smirked evilly as he held those same fingers up to your mouth. “Your turn, princess. Soak me.”

You were desperate to hold back your moans as you willed yourself to glare up at him. However, it sounded more like a whine when you spoke. “Make me…”

You could say you were a bit regretful of those words when his face morphed into a searing scowl. Without saying a word, he calmly brought his fingers to your face and turned to Jisung. “You know what to do, Hannie…”

The amused smile that bloomed on Jisung’s face quickly morphed into a sadistic one as he looked back at you. All simultaneously, Minho plunged his face in your cunt and quickly started making out with your clit at the same time Jisung decided to angle deeper and intentionally crushed your cervix. The resulting scream that emanated from you allowed Minho to plunge his awaiting fingers in your mouth and you began eagerly slobbering all over them, tasting Jisung’s remaining saliva in the process.

Eventually, you could no longer tend to his fingers as an earth shattering orgasm washed over you, causing you to scream and soak both Jisung and Minho in tandem.

You had just come down from your high when you felt Jisung halt all movement inside you. When the haze cleared from your eyes and you lifted your head to assess the situation, your jaw dropped.

Minho was positioned behind Jisung with one hand around his neck and the other was pumping his spit-slick fingers in his ass. Jisung looked as if he was in so much pleasure that all other functions of his body were rendered useless. “Such a good boy, letting her cum on your cock like that. So fucking sexy…” Minho murmured in his lover’s ear as you watched the hand around his neck alternate between loosening and contracting.

Jisung whimpered and you scowled at the man behind him who shot you a triumphant smirk over Jisung’s strong shoulder.

You huffed and slunk out from underneath Jisung who’s limbs had gone slack in pleasure. You proceeded to lunge at Minho and pin him down against your destroyed sheets. You felt a hint of pride when you were able to overpower him and keep him in place.

“You think you’re pretty slick, huh? Taking Ji away from me like that?” You seethed just inches from his stupidly beautiful smug face.

“Oh, I don’t think I am, princess. I know I am.” He mused.

You huffed and spoke over your shoulder to the dazed man behind you. “Jisung, baby, would you please wrap up this man’s worthless dick so I can make him fall apart under me, please?” You fluttered your eyelashes at the younger man and he eagerly complied, kissing your neck as he, too, straddled Minho to roll the condom on him.

With you hovering over Minho’s cock, Jisung facing you from where he straddled his boyfriend’s torso, and Minho with his hands fondling Jisung’s ass, the three of you acted simultaneously.

You slowly sank down on the hot, twitching appendage and Minho groaned, roughly sinking his fingers into the flesh of Jisung’s ass cheeks and spreading them apart. The latter breathed in a surprised gasp and you watched in awe as Minho wrapped his arms around the younger’s thighs to sit him back on top of the man’s face.

Jisung cried out as you heard the sloppy noises of Minho going to town on his eager hole. All the while, you were still adjusting to Minho’s size. They were pretty similar in size, but it was still a lot to handle and you were more than a little breathless when you started bouncing on his cock, your hands roaming over his toned abdomen in the process.

Your eyes, when the overwhelming fog of lust cleared, locked onto the other man that was riding the man beneath the two of you. Jisung had a blazing fire in his eyes that bore into your soul and you didn’t even think twice before pulling him in for a searing kiss.

With your lips attached, you both continued to grind on the man below you while Minho alternated his groping between Jisung’s plump ass cheeks and your own. Minho was growling and moaning against his hole as he bucked up into you and you whimpered when Jisung brought his hands up to play with your waiting breasts.

However, Jisung seemed to have the air knocked out of him when you slipped off his now-pointless condom and started expertly pumping his cock with your eager hand. “O-oh fuck…” He muttered against your lips and you smiled up at him.

“Will you cum on my face, Jisungie? Please?” You heard both of them loudly moan at that and you leaned down to get as close to his dick that you were able to and began using all of your focus to properly jack this beautiful man off.

You knew he was close when his legs started shaking underneath him and you heard a cry fall from his lips when you managed to get close enough to give a small kitten-lick to his tip. Cum instantly sputtered all over your face and lips and you lapped up everything that your tongue could catch.

Both you and Minho laid the completely spent boy down next to you on the bed before Minho grabbed you behind the neck and growled against your lips. “We. Aren’t. Done. Yet.” You gasped when he licked up a long string of cum off your face and smirked at your slackened jaw. “Fuck!” He yelled as he grasped your hips and thrusted up into you as he slammed you down on his cock. “You look so goddamned sexy with Hannie’s load all over your face…”

He pulled you down to, once again, clean up your face with his tongue and then furiously kissed you as he fucked up into your abused hole. You couldn’t have cared less that that same tongue was up Jisung’s asshole just moments before, not with the way he was making you feel. You whimpered into his mouth with every thrust and it wasn’t until you screamed their names as you came that he emptied himself into the condom as well.

He rode you through your orgasms before you rolled over and collapsed next to Jisung who seemed to be lost in a daze as he watched you two finish.

Heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard and three palpitating chests were the only things that moved as you came back to reality and realized what the fuck just happened.

Holy christ on a cracker…

Your breathing began morphing into breathless laughter which then turned into full on cackling as you felt two sets of eyes fixed on you. Once your giggles died down and you wiped the resulting tears from your eyes, you threw your head back with an amused lilt to your voice. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard chuckling from both sides of you in response and they both sat up to look down at you. “Are you doing okay there, beautiful?” Jisung laughed with a smile on his face as he wiped what was presumably jizz out of your hair. You nodded with an equally bright face up at him and you looked over to see that Minho was tonguing his cheek with an amused grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him, preparing yourself for whatever snark was about to fall from his lips, but his face slowly softened. “So, uh, does this mean you forgive me for what I said?”

You tried desperately to suck in your smile, but you were pretty sure you failed miserably. You had completely forgotten that’s what tonight was supposed to be all about and you could almost laugh at yourself with how quickly you let your guard down around them. You liked them. And not just for their dicks or god tier good looks, but you found that, in only a short amount of time, these were pretty cool guys.

Maybe that’s why you were feeling the way you felt…

You made a show of appearing as if you were deliberating your response, but you knew you had already forgiven him as soon as you saw him that morning. But he didn’t need to know that…

“Hmmm… I suppose I can look past your assholery if you two clean up this mess you’ve created.” You smirked at them and they immediately got to work.

The night ended with both of them slowly cleaning you up with wet towels, only briefly interrupted by their wandering hands and kisses, before they quickly changed your sheets. You climbed into bed naked and they just stood at the end of your bed looking a bit sheepish.

You rolled your eyes at them, finding it amusing that, out of everything that had happened that night, this was the part they were awkward about.

“Well?” You said with a raised brow. “We don’t have all night for you two to just stand there! Get in!” You said lifting the covers. “Unless you prefer traveling all the way home at this time of night?”

They looked at each other and Jisung looked back at you with a gleeful smile before hopping straight in, immediately cuddling up to your side and nuzzling his face in your neck. Minho, on the other hand, crossed his arms and raised a brow. “What are the chances I get my face smashed in with a guitar?”

Again, you bit back your amused smile and pondered. “Hmmm slim to none.” You declared with a nod.

“Oh just get in here, Minnie! It’s the least you could do for causing all of this!” Jisung said with a cute, child-like whine.

Minho’s face surrendered an endearing smile at his boyfriend and offered a sarcastic eye-roll before trudging over to the bed. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to take the spot on the other side of you, causing you to be squished by the men.

You melted when they both wrapped their arms around you and it wasn’t long before you were out like a light.

__________________________________________

You had only begun realizing how brazen you were being when you caught Seungmin glancing at you for the fourth time while he was driving you to class. Jisung had given Minho your phone number and Minho immediately created a group chat. However, you instantly regretted it once they began teasing you NON-STOP throughout the week.

Between Jisung’s innuendos and Minho’s provocative threats, you couldn’t get a moment’s peace from your blushing face and moist undergarments. That being said, you considered it a bit of payback to dress the way you had for the following class you had with the infuriating man.

Seungmin probably thought you hadn’t noticed his ogling, but he was honestly shit at being subtle. It was in the middle of autumn, but you disregarded this as you chose your outfit that morning.

You had worn some black thigh-high stockings with cute boots, but you were freezing in the rest of your outfit. Honestly it wasn’t TOO provocative, but it was also unlike your usual attire… Just like your last outfit when you were with them…

Your burnt-orange colored skirt came up to your waist so your black crop top only showed a sliver of your midriff. Plus, you had a cozy green sweater to keep you warm so… you looked normal right? Most girls wear barely anything and don’t bat an eyelash about it either.

But, it’s true that you usually wore a t-shirt and jeans sooo…

You were kind of nervous when Seungmin pulled up to the building and gave you a knowing smirk. “Have fun.” He lilted with an amused tone. You just narrowed your eyes at him in response and wordlessly stepped out of the car.

You didn’t know whether you wanted Minho to get there before or after you, but fate had apparently decided to fuck with you that day because, as you were walking to the front door, you witnessed Jisung kissing his boyfriend goodbye. You froze when you saw them, but their eyes immediately snapped to you when they separated.

You had to will yourself to move forward, but they made it difficult when their eyes widened and then simultaneously turned predatory once you began nearing them.

“It seems fate has a sense of humor, I never get here at the same time as you.” You mused as you stopped in front of them.

Jisung remained staring at you like you were his next meal, but Minho took a step closer to you and gave you a crooked smile. “Yeah, funny. You usually get here way later. Tell me, did something make you a bit eager to get here today? Hm?” His voice was a teasing melody as he cocked his head to the side with an evil smile.

Before you could even answer, Jisung also stepped closer and looked down at you menacingly. “I can’t imagine it would have been a quick process to look the way you do today. Did you have plans later on?” He mimicked Minho’s smile and you forced yourself to look blasé.

You scoffed and held your chin high. “Does it matter? Maybe I just wanted to put in an extra bit of effort today… there doesn’t have to be any particular reason…”

“I think there is, sweet thing…” Jisung’s eyes trailed down where he caressed your arm and you shivered from the touch.

You narrowed your eyes at Minho as he clicked his tongue. “Psh, sweet? The only sweet thing about her is…” He gave you a once over and tongued the corner of his mouth with a sly grin. “…the way she tastes…” You blushed furiously and quickly checked your surroundings to make sure there weren’t any prying ears.

You shoved his arm as the pair cackled and then wrapped your arms around yourself in your intense bashfulness.

Jisung immediately grabbed your hands to unravel you. “Oh don’t be shy darling. Besides, Minho has been non-stop talking to me about your tight, pretty little cu—“

“OKAY WELL SEE YOU LATER JISUNG!” You shouted as you quickly ran inside, their cackling fading behind you.

The first half of class was torture. You and Minho had gotten used to sitting across from each other in the circle and it remained that way. First, it was because you despised each other, now, it was so he could maintain eye contact with you to drive you crazy.

He was making threatening sex eyes at you the entire time as he kept ogling your body as if you were a whole goddamn snack. He was manspread the entire time, of course, and you weren’t able to force your way out of this one, your eyes were glued to him.

You lost track of time of how many times you licked your lips at the memory of last week and you smashed your legs together from the aching between your thighs. When it was break time, you bolted to get outside as soon as possible. Not to smoke this time, but to have some privacy.

Just as you expected, Minho was not far behind you as he strutted up to your normal spot on the side of the building. “Not smoking this time?”

You shook your head as you faced him. “Nah, I decided to quit again. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You said nonchalantly as you shrugged.

“You don’t say?” He mused sarcastically. “Well that’s a relief, you look so much better without that stick in your mouth.” You sputtered a laugh as you felt that had a double meaning. He caught on quickly and he flashed a grin. “However, as for other kinds of sticks…”

He left his sentence hanging as he stepped closer to you, causing your heart to beat out of your chest. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he brushed your hair off the side of your neck. He DID, however, look away when he leaned in and whispered with his lips grazing your ear.

“Jisungie thought it would be a good idea to remind you of our time together last week.” You sucked in a breath when his hand wrapped around you underneath your sweater and snuck up the back of your crop top to splay his hand over the bare skin there. He placed a gentle kiss on your jaw and breathed into your ear again. “But I’m sure you’ve had it on your mind as much as we have.”

You shivered when you felt his other hand slide down your thigh to play with the hem of your skirt. You turned your head to speak a hair's breadth away from his lips. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. All I know is that some jackass has been eye-fucking me all morning.”

You gasped when he abruptly pressed you against the wall with his body, his eyes burning holes through you with the fury in his gaze. You felt his hand sneak up underneath your skirt and played with the edge of your panties, drawing out an embarrassing whine from you. “Would you rather have another form of fucking?”

You took a small glance at your surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and snaked your hand between your bodies and cupped his groin, earning a stifled groan through his bitten lip. “I know what you would rather have…” He pursed his lips in frustration and your body acted before your brain did.

You abruptly dragged the man around the corner out of sight of potential onlookers and smashed your lips against his, proceeding to press against his growing bulge, feeling his surprised gasp against your face. You whimpered when his hand plunged underneath your panties and delicately ran his fingers through your sopping folds. Your leg automatically wrapped around him to bring him closer and he didn’t beat around the bush. He SHOVED two fingers inside you and began to furiously finger-fuck you as your hands fumbled with the button on his jeans.

“Fuck, you’d be ruined if I had a condom on me right now…” He growled against your lips before moving to devour your neck.

You finally managed to wiggle your hand in his pants to get ahold of his cock to begin stroking it. “Shit who said we needed a condom? I’m clean and have a birth control implant. Unless you and Ji have any problems…”

His entire body froze against you and he retrieved his head from the crook of your neck to look at you with black, dilated eyes. He took a moment before he completely released you and completely freed his cock from his jeans, positioning himself in front of you to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

You let out a surprised moan when he, without any further notice, moved your panties to the side and started viciously fucking you. “Fuck! Why’d you have to say that?”

Your arms frantically wrapped around his neck to claw at his back as you buried your face in his neck. “Shit…” You breathed. “F-fuck, we’re g-going to be l-late for class!” You were already nearing your peak from his ministrations with his fingers earlier, but the way he filled you up so deliciously had you shaking and whimpering for release.

“Fuck baby, I don’t need long… Just imagine I was fucking you into Hannie rather than this stupid wall…” As he said this, his thrusts sped up and his power increased tenfold. Just the thought of Jisung going at it from behind sent you over the edge and you shook thoroughly as you tried to keep your resulting cry of pleasure to the minimum as to not alert the surrounding area.

Your flooding of his rock hard dick made him violently twitch and soon you felt immense heat filling you to the brim. His feral grunt was almost sexy enough to make you cum again, but he quickly pulled out and moved your panties over to contain most of his seed.

Without further ado, he grabbed your hand and dragged you back to class while you used your other hand to fix yourself up to hopefully not look like you just got dicked down.

__________________________________________

Next week was Minho’s final day in class and they wanted to throw a party at their place which you, of course, readily accepted. In the meantime, those men tortured you. You didn’t have the time to see them, but they made sure to keep you interested. Their texts, calls, and video calls always had you blushing (even though you would never admit it) and halfway through the week, they decided to “surprise” you.

You were just going to bed after a long day of work and you had just finished showering before climbing into bed. You had a habit of going to sleep naked due to the fact you hated your skin feeling restricted as you slept.

However, when you saw you were receiving a video call from the infamous men, you panicked. You turned on your bedside lamp and shoved yourself deep under the covers, but you answered with the camera facing the ceiling anyway.

“How am I not surprised you guys would call right as I climbed in bed?” You spoke into your phone over the speaker, camera still showing nothing but your ceiling fan.

The men were smiling when you answered, but when they saw your end of the screen, they frowned in confusion. “Why can’t we see your face?” Minho said with an aggressive complaint.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his raised voice, so you did what you always did to Minho, argued back at him. “Why do you need to see my face? It’s not like I’m the one who decided to video call!” You noticed that they were laying in bed and neither of them had a shirt on. Your mouth watered at the sight of them. Man, I’m a desperate bitch…

Minho was about to fight back, but Jisung cut in. “We video called because we wanted to see our favorite girl! We miss you, gorgeous!” Your heart warmed and you held back the giddiness that flowed through your veins.

“Well I’m not so sure about the gorgeous part. There’s a reason I’m not showing my face.” They both looked perplexed and you sighed. “I just showered and I don’t have any makeup on and I look like a wet rat with my hair still damp.”

Both of them went silent and you saw their faces simultaneously turn feral. Minho suddenly brought the phone closer. “Show your goddamn face right the fuck now.”

You shivered at his tone and you peeked at his face once again to witness the predatory expression taking over his beautiful face. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to compose yourself and then stared at the phone. “Why should I?” You said in a defiant tone.

Jisung laughed incredulously and looked at his boyfriend. “You weren’t kidding, she is a stubborn one.”

Minho smirked and licked his lips. “Because if you don’t, we are coming over ourselves and I will pound on the door loud enough to wake any and every neighbor on your entire block.” He grumbled in a low, threatening tone.

“Trust me, baby. He will absolutely do it.” Jisung said as he held the camera in its original position.

You cringed at the thought and you, indeed expected he would follow up on that threat.

You sighed and tentatively grabbed your phone and scooted a bit under the covers in hopes they couldn’t see much but, unfortunately, you had to use a hand to hold your phone up, showing your bare shoulder and collarbone. Once you tried to fix your hair (unsuccessfully), you brought your camera into focus on your face, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You didn’t necessarily have self-confidence issues, you just felt exposed and foreign in this state when people see you like this.

You braced yourself for their reactions, but you couldn’t prepare enough to see them sit up in excitement. Jisung spoke first. “My god, you’re so gorgeous…”

“Why the fuck would you hide this?”

“Why do you even wear makeup?”

“Fuck, I want us to wreck you so bad right now…”

“Wanna make you squirm underneath us, baby”

Your eyes widened at their onslaught of comments and you hoped they didn’t notice your blush. “I… um… I don’t really know what to say…” You shifted the arm holding your phone a bit and Jisungs eyes went wide.

“Baby girl… What are you hiding under all those covers?” His voice was sly and his smirk, amused.

Minho leaned in closer to get a better look. “Fuck, show us the rest…” He breathed.

“For me babydoll?” Jisung pouted, but somehow it was sexy as fuck and you didn’t have it in you to refuse.

You bit your lip and held the phone a bit further out, pulling down the covers and revealing your top half. “All. Of. It.” Minho emphasized with a deep growl. You just didn’t give two fucks anymore, seeing as you were already turned on and heated. So, without further ado, you just threw the entirety of your covers off of you and rubbed your horny thighs together as you showed them yourself in your most vulnerable state.

“Fuck…” They both said in tandem and you licked your lips.

When you angled the phone back up to your face, you now allowed your breasts to be within view. “Well? It’s nothing you guys haven’t seen before…” You bit your lip. These guys really did have such a strong affect on you.

“Well, yeah. But knowing we are all bare in our beds gives us… thoughts…” Jisung hinted and you felt an odd sensation run through you with this knowledge. You shifted your thighs again.

“...Thoughts?” You inquired (even though you definitely already knew what they were thinking).

“Yeah… I might be thinking about a certain canoodling during class you two had last week… and how hyung gave me EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL.” You blushed at the thought. And Jisung definitely noticed. “Did you cum to the thought of me too, baby? Wish I was there helping hyung?”

You bit your lip and nodded, the ache in between your legs becoming more and more apparent.

“I didn’t just tell him, little girl. I showed him. I fucked him right up against the wall just like I did with you…” You closed your eyes at Minho’s words and a hint of a whimper sneaked out through your vocal cords. “Would you like to see that? Want to watch me ruin Hannie the way I did to you?”

Your eyes flew open and you frantically nodded your head, too lost in the moment to realize how vulnerable you were being.

“Well… what will you do to convince us, beautiful? Can you touch yourself for us baby? Let us watch you pleasure yourself to the thought of us?” Jisung’s words were like butter and you felt your body melt into submission.

You didn’t say anything, but you let your actions speak for you. You kept the camera on your face, but you slid your unoccupied hand down between your legs and closed your eyes with an appreciative sigh once you finally got the much needed stimulation to your aching clit.

“Don’t be selfish, girl. Set down your phone so we can see all of you.” Minho’s domineering tone had you boiling in defiance.

“Maybe I would be inclined to if I saw some action on your end too!” You whined, failing to sound as stern as you intended to.

Luckily, Jisung was more receptive to your demands as he chuckled and slowly lowered their covers. Both men sported fully erect cocks and Minho had already been stroking his. You sucked in a breath and bit your lip. “So? Will you show us now, baby?” Jisung muttered in a sultry tone that had you scrambling to set up your phone.

It was kind of difficult to angle it accurately on your bunched up duvet, but you eventually got it stable enough to lay back again. The phone was propped up at the foot of the bed between your legs that way they could see both your face and your hungry cunt.

“Oh fuck…” Minho mumbled as he switched from stroking his own dick to begin stimulating Jisung’s. You watched as Jisung tensed up with hooded eyes and scrambled to take Minho in his hand, pumping him in time with Minho’s slow strokes.

You whined and you moved your fingers to spread open your pussy lips, exposing your leaking entrance. “Fuck, such a good girl…” Jisung breathed. With your hole still on display, you took another finger and started teasing the center of it, threatening yourself with the thought of finally relieving your needy pussy.

“Minho… C-can I watch you prep Hannie? I-if that’s okay with you, Ji…?”

Minho sported an evil grin and Jisung raised a brow. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you baby? You want to watch hyung get me off while I watch you, yeah?” You nodded frantically as you went back and forth from playing with your clit to teasing your entrance. “Of course you can watch, baby…” Jisung sweetly replied and shifted to sit between Minho’s legs before setting the phone down in a similar position to your own, that way you could see his tight hole on display as Minho’s arms instinctively wrapped around his boyfriend.

Minho squeezed Jisung tight and placed a wet kiss on his jaw before leaning over and rummaging their drawer for some lube. Jisung seemed a bit tentative, but he eventually leaned back against his lover and spread his legs for the camera.

You couldn’t hold back your stifled moan when you saw Minho’s slick fingers coat Jisung’s rim with the warmed substance.

They both locked their eyes onto the screen when they heard you and they both had very different reactions. Minho looked like a cocky motherfucker and he grinned with a heavy-jawed smirk as he tongued the corner of his lip. All the while, he brought his other slick hand around the younger and started stroking the man’s leaking cock. Jisung, on the other hand, had his brows turned in while he fluttered his lashes and bit his lip, eyes turning a bit hazy from the amount of stimulation he was receiving.

As soon as you saw the tip of Minho’s finger slip in, you quickly plunged your finger into your own drooling entrance. You witnessed Jisung’s white knuckles as they gripped onto Minho’s sturdy thighs and Jisung groaned when his hole had finally swallowed the full finger and, in turn, caused you to repeat the action on your end.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, Ji…” You sighed wistfully and Jisung smirked at you lazily.

“I could say the same about you, gorgeous…” He huffed before Minho’s, now moving, finger pulled a moan out of him.

“And what about me?” Minho hissed as he continued to pump out noises from the younger.

You let out a breathless scoff. “You boost your own ego enough. You don’t need my help, Min.”

You suddenly heard a whine come from Jisung’s mouth and you realized Minho retreated both of his hands from Jisung’s body. “That’s too bad, it seems you don’t need me then, huh?”

His smirk was all-knowing. He already knew you wanted both of them in this whole fucked up situation and he was all too willing to play dirty. Jisung looked back at you with pleading eyes and you didn’t have the heart to rob him of this.

“Fine.” You started. And he propped his chin up on Jisung’s shoulder with a smug smile. You took a breath and looked down. “Minho…” You looked back up at the camera with hooded lids and became dead serious. “You are so beautiful I want to punch your face in…” He sat up again with an unamused demeanor. “But!” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You sometimes have a certain expression when you look at Jisung… or maybe even me… and I instantly want to drop to my knees for you.”

Jisung bit back his smile and then craned his neck back to look at his hyung’s reaction. The elder tried not to react, but you could tell his pupils were more dilated and his cheeks and ears were a bright red.

You really enjoyed that look on him.

And what else could you do other than milk it? “Minho…” You whined with intense breathless words as you slightly arched your back. “Please touch Jisungie for me? I want to see your cock fill him up. So. Badly.” You almost sounded too overboard on the needy side, but you drove the point home when you inserted two fingers in yourself and threw your head back with a loud moan (that Seungmin most likely heard).

You then heard a cry from Jisung and you whipped your head up to see that Minho had also inserted two of his fingers into Jisung’s hole and began scissoring him open. You replicated the action on yourself and whimpered. Jisung was breathing heavily and his brows were still turned inwards, but he stared at you with such passion that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him in waves all the way across the other end of the call.

“Fuck, just like that beautiful, do to yourself what hyung does to me… feel what I feel baby girl.” Jisung groaned and he tilted his head with a euphoric expression when Minho started kissing and biting his way up Jisung’s neck.

Just the pure eroticism of everything you saw on that screen was bringing you way more pleasure than if you were just watching regular porn.

“Shit, Sungie… I wish I was there to suck you off at the same time…” Your comment made the two men groan and Jisung sucked in a breath when Minho began to wiggle a third finger in.

“M-me too, baby…” He managed to squeak out in response.

You steadily became needy enough to need more. They both watched you with confusion written across their faces as you shimmied over to the side of your bed to reach your nightstand. When you came back into frame with a little pink dildo, they both cursed.

“M-Minnie I’m ready…” Jisung blurted in a flurry and began sitting up, suddenly emptying himself of the elder’s fingers.

“You sure, jagi?” Minho asked tentatively as he held onto the boy’s hips. Han just nodded his head with a whine and lifted himself up with Minho’s assistance to hover over his cock. “Do it with me, baby girl. Fuck yourself with us.” Minho replied huskily to you and your small whimpers of impatience.

You sat in full view of the sinful sight of Jisung slowly sinking down on Minho’s leaking and over-eager erection as you, too, began penetrating yourself.

Minho hissed at the feeling of finally being stimulated and he dropped his head down on Han’s shoulder. Jisung, however, went slack-jawed and his chest began palpitating from his heavy breathing. And you? You saw this as you penetrated yourself and breathed out a hundred expletives as you failed to match their speed and immediately shoved the toy all the way up in you.

You heard a deep chuckle come from Han’s mouth and you looked at him like you wanted to eat him. “Eager, baby? Imagine how much better you would feel if that was my dick inside you instead…” Jisung’s voice was breathless as he spewed his delicious lewdness and you could only respond with a needy whine.

After a few experimental pumps, just to make sure Han was comfortable, Minho wrapped his arms around the other man and started fucking up into him. Jisung bounced to meet his thrusts and the entire time you were fucking yourself, you spewed out filth and rushed whimpers of their names, the men on the other end growling yours in return.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak and you came with a loud cry. “FuckfuckfuckMinhoJisungfuuuck!!!” You emptied your lungs completely and felt lightheaded when you came back down.

Luckily, when you regained focus, Minho’s face was scrunched and violent as he slammed Jisung down on his cock. Jisung looked completely fucked out as his head was lolled to the side and his knuckles were white on his knees as he spread his legs.

Minho pumped into Han a few more times before you saw a strand of white shoot in the air and land on Jisung’s chest. His cry of pleasure was very much like your own when he climaxed. However, Minho growled like a feral tiger as his hips stuttered and he finally came deep inside the younger, teeth finding their mark on Han’s shoulder to stifle his moans (that were still very much audible).

For a moment, all that was heard was heavy breathing. You closed your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. Yeeeah you were definitely going to need another shower. When you opened your eyes again, your heart swelled.

The two men were gazing into each other’s eyes with loving smiles on their faces, giggling and kissing periodically. It was such a heartwarming thing sight that you felt a smile cross your features. Until it dropped.

What the fuck were you doing?

These men were each other’s whole lives. They were so obviously madly in love that anyone within a twenty meter radius could sense it. Seeing them together felt right. Seeing them together screamed “SOULMATES”.

Who were you?

You had no place here. You were just someone they met that would be willing enough to spice up their love life. A pawn.

A pawn.

Made to be used and discarded. Always second best or worse. To them. To your ex. To… anyone.

The heartwarming feeling you had turned sour and you suddenly felt like you were going to be sick. Now, feeling like a whore and plaything, you felt extremely vulnerable.

You scrambled to cover yourself and they whipped their heads to the screen, smiles turning into perplexed frowns. “You alright, pet?” Minho inquired.

You felt your eyes water and you cursed yourself for being so weak. You ‘accidentally’ knocked over your phone so they saw nothing but black when you hollered over to the speaker. “Y-yeah! I, uh. I gotta go! See you guys next week!”

“Wai—“

“Are yo—“

They both said simultaneously right as you ended the call.

You were ashamed to say that you cried on the shower floor that night.

__________________________________________

The texting the week after that was minimal. You used working as an excuse to avoid talking too much and you told them the other night’s abrupt departure was because Seungmin came to tease you about the noise.

That was… partially true… but he held off on doing that until the following morning.

You reassured their concerns about your attendance to the party for the next class just to get them off your back. After all, you still did consider them as… friends? Yeah, sure, friends. So you didn’t mind celebrating Minho’s last day, especially with other people around to mingle with to… distract yourself with…

You arrived to class last-minute in hopes of avoiding chatting with the pair. However, as luck would have it, when Seungmin drove up to drop you off, they appeared to be waiting for you.

You internally groaned and gave Seungmin the stink-eye when he waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively.

As you stepped out of the car, you gave the two (stupidly gorgeous) men a meek smile. They stepped towards you eagerly and Jisung smiled with worried eyes as Minho looked down at you cautiously.

“Hey, guys. We’re gonna be late for class! Let’s go, Min!” You felt broken seeing them again and spoke as if you were being suffocated and, as you passed them, you felt a hand grasp your wrist and spin you around.

“Look here, you little shit. You’ve been acting weird all fucking week. I’m not buying your bullshit act, so you need to tell us what the fuck is wrong with you.” Minho spat at you, inches from your face. Fuck he’s so hot. You wanted those lips so bad…

Wait. No! Stop stupid horny brain!

You yanked your wrist free from his grip and took a step back, fury blooming on your face. “Me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I said I was fine! You’re the one making a big deal out of it!” You adjusted your coat, feeling a bit more comfortable in the cool air after getting so heated. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class that I am now LATE for!”

And with that, you spun around and marched inside, leaving a pissed off Minho and a distressed Jisung behind.

Other than hiding in the bathroom during the class break, Minho glared at you the entire time as you pretended not to notice.

__________________________________________

After fleeing at the end of class in almost a humorous fashion to avoid talking to them, you jumped into Seungmin’s car and demanded him to get a fucking move on.

Later that evening, you decided to forgo the dressing up for just simply wearing what you did that morning, jeans and a baggy graphic t-shirt with a cute image of Tanjiro and Nezuko on the front.

That’s not necessarily seductive… right?

You decided it would be rude to show up to the party (Yes you were going! You promised!) without contributing anything, so you had Seungmin stop on the way there to buy a bottle of Jim Beam and a two liter bottle of coke to take with you.

As Seungmin stopped in front of the (pretty fancy) apartment building, you checked the address on your phone again. “Yep, I guess this is the one…” You sighed, grabbing your bag of drinks and stepping out of the car.

However, before you could walk away, Seungmin rolled down the window and hollered at you. “Hey! If you need me, for anything, let me know and I’ll be here in a flash. Okay?”

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand nonchalantly. “Yeah yeah, okay mom. I’ll call if I need to, just don’t stay up on my account.” You chuckled.

He smirked as he shifted the car into drive. “Have fun with your boooyfrieeeends~” He lilted before he drove off.

You huffed and muttered to yourself in frustration. “They’re not my boyfriends…” You grumbled as you marched to the intercom. You took a breath before you buzzed the right apartment number and, oddly enough, you were immediately let in.

You found yourself subconsciously running your hands through your hair and straightening your clothes when you knocked on their front door, quickly catching the action and kicking yourself for it.

Do NOT be flirtatious. Do NOT be alluring. Do NOT be sugges–

You froze when the door opened to a breathtaking display of the two men. They looked absolutely… natural? Comfortable and casual in their normal clothes they also wore this morning. I mean, I GUESS not everyone dresses up for parties. But… where is everyone?

As you ogled their, still very gorgeous, appearances, Minho spoke up in a stern voice. “What are you doing here?” You slightly deflated and looked at the ground. Wow, was Minho really that petty to not want you there anymore?

You scoffed with a bitter smile. “Well I’m sorry I didn’t know I was uninvited!” You held out the bag of drinks and shoved it into Minho’s hands. “I got this for you for your last day. Bye.” You spat with venom in your tone. Right as you turned and felt the angry waterworks prickling at your eyes, you felt a pair of arms spin you around and wrap you up into their owner’s embrace.

“Of course you’re still invited, silly. We just thought you weren’t going to want to come…” Jisung said from where his face was smooshed into your neck from the hug.

You squeezed him back. “Of course I wanted to come! I promised!”

“Then what the fuck was that shit this morning?!” Minho barked at you from the door.

You glared at him when Jisung released you. “That was me not wanting some asshole to grill me on useless nonsense!”

“That’s bullish—“

“Oh will you two stop it! She’s here now so let's just get the hell on with it!” Jisung interjected while brushing past Minho and dragging you in along behind him.

Their place was nice, like, really nice. Like, shit, what do these men do?! You knew 3RACHA was successful, but damn…

You also noticed the very obvious emptiness of it. “Where is everyone? I’m I early or something?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung hollered from the kitchen as he snatched the drinks away from his boyfriend to start preparing some glasses for the three of you.

“The party? Minho’s graduation from psycho class? Ring a bell?” You raised a brow, still avoiding eye contact with the grumpy elder that stood off to the side with his arms crossed.

Jisung looked confused momentarily before he showed a moment of realization and started cackling. “Oh sweetie! When we said party, we meant only the three of us!” He giggled wildly as he continued making the drinks and you glimpsed at Minho smiling adoringly at his giggling lover. You felt that odd shift in your gut again as you witnessed it. “By the way, babe.” Jisung added. “Thanks for bringing drinks, you’re the best!”

When Jisung handed you your drink, you hummed in response and quickly turned from the kitchen to hide your worried brows and wandered around the wide expanse of their home. “You guys must have thought my place was a hovel compared to this! Look how high the ceilings are!” You exclaimed as you periodically guzzled down huge gulps of your drink.

“You want a tour, baby?” Jisung said with a sultry tone, suddenly right behind you, leaning close to your ear. The feeling gave you shivers and you quickly took a step or two away to fight off the feeling that the sinful voice brought to you.

“Uh-uhh not right now! Um how about we get on to the festivities! What did you guys have planned for tonight?”

Minho raised a brow from where he was cautiously following and leaned up against the wall. “What exactly were you wanting to do?”

You bit your lip and felt the need to escape the intimidating glare. You quickly walked back into the living room and turned back to them. “Movie? Movies are always good!” You made yourself at home as you plopped down on their couch and reached for the TV remote.

Before you grabbed it, a hand grabbed you. “We have a TV in our bedroom. With surround sound too. The bed is nice and comfortable in there.” Minho looked like he was testing you as he narrowed his eyes and grabbed your wrist a bit tighter, face inching closer all the while.

You subtly tried to pull away. “I-It’s fine! I like it in here! It’s very spacious!” You grabbed his hand to remove it, but, even with the all the strength you harbored, his arms and hands were banded with thick muscles that were unrelenting. “Minho! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Minnie? What’s going on?” Jisung said in a soothing voice as he sat his drink down on the coffee table.

“That’s what I’d like to fucking know. What, exactly, is wrong? You’ve been barely speaking to us, desperately avoiding looking at us, and yet you still came here tonight! Are you just here to string us along?!”

You felt your blood boil and you stood up in a flare and the fury of your muscles finally ripped free of his grasp. “AND WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH?!” You shouted back at him, venom dripping from every syllable and making Jisung jolt in surprise. “Who the fuck is stringing who along here?! Because the way I see it, I’m just here as a fuck buddy to spice up your relationship!”

Minho was the one to look befuddled this time and neither one of them breathed a word.

You continued. “You heard my fucking pitiful story in class and decided it would be fun to coerce me into letting you and your boyfriend use me while I was still ‘weak and vulnerable’ and would be malleable enough to be convinced to fuck you both!” You scoffed a sarcastic laugh. “So why the fuck am I here? It’s obvious to anyone that you two are madly in love! While I’ve become a goddamn sex doll that’s to be used and discarded when you’re done with me! I am here because I AM weak!”

You felt fresh tears roll down your face and the men looked gobsmacked.

“I’m a fucking weak-ass whore that didn’t want to say goodbye!...” You sobbed at the painful word.

It was silent for a long while before Minho steeled his face and took a step towards you. “Min, wait…” Jisung said while putting his hand on the elder’s arm to stop him.

However, Minho easily stepped out of his grasp and came toe-to-toe with you. He looked down at your pitiful, damp, and flushed pout with a stone-cold expression. “Have you been fucking any men other than us?” You shook your head no, but maintained eye contact. “And have we ever said that this was just a fling?” You could only look down this time, but it was quickly turned up again by a gentle finger under your chin. “Then why in the fresh hell do you think you’re a whore?”

Your face turned doe-eyed and he released you so Jisung could also come and reassure you as well. “We never thought for a single second about leaving you. Why would you even think such a thing?” He looked at you sullenly.

Minho caught your attention again when he wiped your tears with his thumb. “This is exclusive, baby. We want you equally as much.” Your eyebrows raised and he smirked. “Even with all your pissed off brattiness.”

Jisung stepped forward and wiped the tears from the other cheek. “It might not exactly be… conventional, but would you be willing to give us a chance to date you? Please?” Lord, how could a man be so incredibly sexy and yet so adorable at the same time?

You offered a small smile to the men and gave a small nod, Han abruptly picking you up and swinging you around. When he sat you back down on your feet, your attention jerked to Minho when he roughly grabbed you by the waist. And growled against your lips. “And if you ever–”

“Oh shut the fuck up for once!” You halted him with irritation and smashed your lips against his to shut him up.

Once you knew he would drop it, (indicated by how he hungrily grabbed at you) you reached out a hand to grab the younger and transferred your lips to Han’s. He immediately responded and Minho moved around to circle you from the back while Jisung moved to face you, lips still attached along the way. You breathed a contented sigh when Jisung’s tongue met your own just as Minho began kissing his way down your neck.

It was when you felt both of them beginning to sport a semi that pressed into the front and back of you that you broke the kiss. “I think I want to see the bedroom now…” You hinted breathlessly as Jisung smiled against your lips and Minho mimicked the movement on the skin of your shoulder.

Without another word, Jisung picked you up to wrap your arms and legs around his body, and quickly led you further into their home.

__________________________________________

“Fuck! Yes! Oh GOD yes!!! Don’t stop Ji, please!” The men had you spread eagle on their bed and had been trading you back and forth for what felt like hours. The stamina these men had was outrageous to you and they had you shaking profusely after all of the orgasms they gave you.

Jisung currently had his face in your cunt, sipping and licking out both his and Minho’s combined cum from deep inside you. Minho, on the other hand, was straddled across your abdomen facing you, furiously fucking your titties like they made up his own personal fleshlight. “That’s it baby, hold them nice and tight for me–ngh…” Minho grunted as he sped up. You used your hands to push your breasts even tighter around him and he groaned.

You broke out in a sob when Jisung brought you, yet again, to another orgasm that night. Your voice was hoarse from both the cries of pleasure and the way they had fucked your throat earlier, but you were too blissed out to care.

With Minho being all you could see (and, fuck, what a sight it was…), you weren’t expecting it when you felt Jisung slowly slip his dick in you once again. How did these men manage to keep getting hard after coming so many times?

Indeed, there was cum absolutely everywhere. Your bodies, the bed, pillows and your hair had at least one or all three of your guy’s sexual fluids on them. You didn’t even care at this point.

At the end of the night, after they cleaned you and your swollen pussy in a warm bath and then laid you in a freshly-made bed, all you could think about was how grateful you were to get that stupid court order.

__________________________________________

If you’ve made it this far thank you for reading! I know Minho isn’t a bad person, it’s just reeeally hot when he gets mad. 😈 Please let me know what you think in the comments!

Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

And of course my squad:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@sweetracha

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

Text

Te Quiero, a Husband!Javier Valentine’s Special

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is for all my readers who have wanted to get an insight into Hubby and Wife’s dynamic, backstory and family life. I hope you enjoy it because I put my heart into this mess of a fic. Thank you @strang3lov3 for always inspiring me, thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always being a great beta-reader and here’s to @morallyinept who told me to tag her in any V-Day fic I post!l

Summary: Your husband has made big plans for Valentine's Day, beginning with breakfast in bed, but not everything goes as smoothly as expected, and suddenly you are faced with a big surprise.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18, hubby!Javier, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, breastfeeding, playful banter, Chucho makes an appearance!!, siblings being siblings, Javi loving you and his kids, negative feelings about your mom-body, insecurity/comfort, spontaneous sex, pussy eating, (Spanish) dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, silly people in love, LOTS of kisses, lots of i love yous, mention of pregnancy and its symptoms

Word count: 11.7k (i am so sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53757202

Te Quiero

You open your eyes, reaching to rub them as the door to the bedroom opens by Javier using his shoulder and backing into it. There’s a crease on his forehead, between his furrowed brows, from looking extremely concentrated because he is carrying a wooden tray in his hands.

Most days you are a heavy sleeper. It is a result of having two children without an understanding of the concept of privacy when it comes to their parents. However, what truly wakes you up is the concerning rustle of utensils, plates, and mugs that your husband is balancing as he nears your shared bed.

Because Javier has his back to you, you close your eyes again and pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The tray is placed on the foot of the bed, and you fight a smile as you hear his footsteps coming around the end of the bed and closer to your side.

“Buenos días (good morning),” he whispers to you, and you roll onto your back and sit up. Javier stands by the side of the bed and waits.

Like in a movie, you blink awake slowly and lift your arms up over your head to stretch and yawn. Javier looks at you expectantly, and you catch a glimpse of why your son resembles him so much. They both have that boyish charm, the ability to look excited in the exact same way when waiting for a reaction from you.

“What’s all this?” You ask with a grin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida (my life),” he says and leans down to initiate a kiss.

“I have bad breath,” you point out.

“I have coffee,” he replies and kisses you anyway, “And today’s crossword puzzle.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you scoot to sit back against the headboard. Javier moves to get into bed with you, pulling the covers aside to get under them while you reach for the tray. You place it between the two of you as if you are about to have a picnic in bed.

“Did you check on Seb?” You ask as you marvel at the breakfast that Javier has put together for the two of you. There are heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes, an abundance of fresh fruit (including blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and banana), whipped cream, syrup, and coffee the way you both like it; black without anything more which Javier claims - to this day - is still one of the reasons that he fell for you.

“Still asleep for now but I suspect he’ll want one of us soon because he can hear us,” he tells you and reaches for his mug after handing you yours.

“I’ll enjoy this while it lasts then,” you take a sip of coffee, humming at the taste. Then, after putting down your mug, you pop a blueberry into your mouth.

“I think Lucas has a crush,” Javier tells you in a heartbeat later, smirking into his own cup of coffee.

You raise a brow in suspicion and surprise, looking at him without turning your head. You swallow down the blueberry and go for the pancakes next, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, he got shy when I asked him if they were making Valentine cards at school today. So I figured something was up because he usually doesn’t get quiet about all those things, you know, he’s touchy-feely,” Javier explains. As he talks, you pour syrup onto the stack of pancakes on your plate, “Inés nearly fell off her chair as she talked about what the school has planned. So yeah, whatever, he’ll tell us if he wants to.”

“Well, perhaps, and hopefully I might add, he’s inherited his dad’s charm as well as his good looks,” you tease, tapping your chin as if you are trying to remember something, “What was it Connie called you? Think it was serial romancer.”

“Hold on, you’ve never told me this,” he pretends to look offended, “When was this?”

“At the bar… just after I laid eyes on you,” you sprinkle fruit on top of your breakfast and wipe your hand on your tank top, “She told me not even to think about it but I knew that I was done for.”

“That damn woman,” he lets out a genuine laugh, “Better tell Steve to keep his lady under control.”

“Connie’s definitely the one keeping her man under control. Just like me,” you smirk, taking a bite that is way too big because your eyes can’t get enough. You groan at the taste. Everything is delicious, so you stuff your mouth and thus don’t have to reply to your husband’s outrage.

“Hey,” he says but you just grin at him, showing off each piece of pancake between your teeth. He sighs but there’s a hint of adoration in his eyes and you know he is fighting a smile, “Charming.”

When you finally swallow, he has dug into his own meal. You eat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company as it is undisturbed by children.

“Don’t you have work today?” You ask eventually.

“I told them I was coming in later,” he replies, stabbing a strawberry with his fork, “They can survive without me until 10-ish. They’re gonna have to.”

You glance over at the clock on your nightstand. It is 8:16. There’s still time to enjoy each other’s company, maybe even have a cuddle or something more if you aren’t too full from breakfast.

Javier has opened the paper now but he hasn’t gotten out a pen yet which means that he isn’t starting the puzzle yet. You continue eating, and meanwhile, conversation flows naturally around subjects like work, kids, and sweet memories.

Suddenly, in the midst of reminiscing about your first trip out of town together, the light on the baby monitor comes on and Sebastian’s distraught, unhappy cries sound through the speaker. Javier puts down the paper and gets up before you.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” You ask, already moving to pull your top’s straps down to reveal your breasts.

“I know he is, that’s how he cries when he is,” he moves towards the door, already talking to his son throughout the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

“You’re so much better at the parent thing than me,” you try to remember which of your breasts you nursed from last night but you cannot, and therefore resort to feeling for the fuller one.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he leans down to kiss your lips before heading down the hall. You listen and wait, hearing Javier coo at his newborn and causing the cries to turn into hiccups instead.

After a moment, he returns with Sebastian in his arms. You hold out your own and he carefully hands him over to you. With a grin, you settle your baby into your arms, “Hi, sweetheart. Hi there, baby boy, ooo, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Look at that big mouth you’ve got — Honey, can you get me a cloth?”

You don’t look up but hear Javier leave the room again but only briefly. He comes back and gives you a muslin cloth which you throw over your shoulder, a thing that always makes Javier joke about you looking like - and kind of being - a bartender if that bartender only served milk.

Sebastian quickly latches on. He closes his eyes as he nurses, and you look longingly at your breakfast as he eats his own. You frown, “It’s getting cold. My coffee too.”

“Just sit back,” your husband reassures, shifting on the bed without making the tray tip over. He cuts a piece of pancake and stabs it with his fork, “Open up.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smile happily but oblige.

“You’re literally keeping my kid alive, mi amor (my love). The least I can do is keep you alive as well, fuel you up,” he feeds you with his own mouth slightly agape. It makes you laugh.

“What?” Javier chuckles in his confusion.

“You look like a fish,” you tease as you giggle, letting Sebastian grab at your index finger, “I’ve never noticed if you look like this too when feeding the kids.”

“Cállate (shut up),” he laughs, consciously avoiding making himself look foolish again as he feeds you another bite. He purposely pokes your nose with the back of your fork to smear the tip with whipped cream, and you respond by looking shocked while laughing.

“That’s so unfair, I have an actual baby in my arms,” you argue, looking down at Sebastian to give him the run-down on his father’s behavior, “You know, Seb, it’s a good thing I love him so much. Look at this. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you might have deserved that one, baby,” he reasons, “Don’t think I feel bad. Seb agrees.”

“You don’t know that,” you use the muslin cloth to wipe a little milk off of your child’s cheek and then wipe whipped cream off your nose too, “Now, please, feed your starving wife. I feel weaker by the second.”

“Always the dramatic,” he replies but follows through.

The teasing dies down after that. You eat whatever Javier gives you whilst you are breastfeeding and Javier eventually finds the crossword in the paper to do it during your quiet morning.

When Sebastian is done eating, cooing happily, you bend your knees and place him against your thighs. You hold both of his hands, doing a little dance with him whilst your husband reads clues aloud.

“Another word for radiance, four letters and beginning with g,” he says.

“Glow,” you reply instantly.

“You’re so much better at the crossword thing than me,” he winks and writes down the remaining letters.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you smile at him and he smiles back. The morning is perfect.

After a cozy morning, Javier has to leave for work. He kisses you and Sebastian goodbye and takes the breakfast tray down into the kitchen with him so you can sleep more if you want to.

You protest at first - it really hadn’t been your intention - but seeing your baby yawn and coo in your arms makes you sleepy, and you end up on your side with Sebastian on Javier’s side of the bed. He has his arms above his head, face turned towards you and you rest an arm over him whilst you snore lightly. The few hours of sleep you get like this without any interruption are fantastic, boosting your productivity for the rest of the early afternoon.

You dress casually and wrap Sebastian in a sling, so he can sleep against your chest while you clean up from breakfast, fill and start the dishwasher, and do a round of laundry before having to pick up Lucas and Inés from school.

However, when you start to get the car keys from their place in the hallway, you hear the door open and the familiar sound of children’s voices filling the house. You can hear the enthusiasm in their voices as they talk to who you assume is your husband but when you turn the corner, you see that it is, in fact, your father-in-law.

“Hello, mija (my daughter),” Chucho says and takes off his hat. He hangs it by all the coats and scarves, “Javier told me to pick up the kiddos.”

You look a little dumbstruck, having been taken completely by surprise but still, you walk over to give him a hug and receive a kiss on the cheek, “Did he say why?”

Chucho kisses Sebastian’s head too, who only coos quietly against your chest. From below, Inés is trying to get your attention. You run a hand over her hair without looking at her, trying to get her to tone down her enthusiasm as you search for answers. Chucho just smiles.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” he reasons with a gentle smile, “I think he has his reasons. All I know is that I’m not supposed to bring them back here before tomorrow afternoon after school.”

“Abuelo promised that we could get pizza for dinner,” Inés interrupts again. You smile down at her whilst trying to process having a whole twenty-four hours off from being parents.

“Ain’t you lucky,” you say with a grin.

Chucho beckons Lucas over who brings his school bag with him, “But first, I think these two have some things to show you. Lucas, c’mere.”

“We made presents!” Inés says and Lucas glares. He frowns at his little sister, placing his backpack by his feet and throwing daggers in her direction.

“Inés, you’re ruining the surprise,” he grumbles despite still digging into the bag. Inés seems unbothered about his irritation, simply joining him to stick her hands into the bag as well. Lucas continues, “Don’t tell Mom what it is.”

You and Chucho watch them, hiding a chuckle as Inés eventually still states that she wants to show her drawing first and Lucas starts groaning.

“Mom!” He says with exasperation.

“Ay, Inés, por favor (please),” you say, “Let Lucas share his surprise. It’ll be your turn soon.”

“Mine is for Papá,” she states proudly.

“She’s just excited, hijito (little son),” you hear your father-in-law say. He puts a calloused hand on Lucas’ shoulder, whispering quietly, “Show your mom your present. Inés’ll be too busy talking to notice.”

It is true. Inés gets a hold of her drawing and spends her time admiring her work, and Chucho is sweet enough to indulge her to give you and your son a moment alone.

In his very own gentle nature, Lucas finds the card that he has made for you just next to where Chucho had told him to store Inés’ drawing as well. He blushes as he hands it to you, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom.”

You inspect it before opening it; it is a blank card that Lucas has decorated with colorful stickers and glitter, having drawn shapes and patterns along the sides and a big heart in the middle where it says To Mom in his wonky handwriting.

You open it to reveal a little letter addressed to you. It is framed by another border of glitter:

Dear Mom,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you a million billion times around the Earth. You take care of me and Inés and Sebastian. And you always make me happy when you give me a hug.

Love, Lucas

You find yourself speechless for a moment and out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar expectant face that Javier sported earlier too. It takes your breath away.

Carefully, you crouch down with Sebastian still in his sling. It gives you the opportunity to embrace Lucas from the side, hugging him close and kissing his hair repeatedly. You whisper endearments to him, tell him you love him and he gets shy as he reciprocates, using the time to caress Sebastian’s fine hair on top of his head.

“I love you so much, my Valentine boy,” you say with a soft voice as you pull away, stretching again and running your hand through his dark hair repeatedly. You can feel a few more tears escape your eyes, your heart pinching in your chest from how much love you feel. Could the day become more perfect? You doubt it.

“Dad asked me about it at breakfast but I was scared of him telling you so it wouldn’t be a surprise because he always does. But then Inés did it anyway…” he grumbles and looks up to see your tears. His eyes widen, “Mom, are you crying?”

“It’s just happy tears, mijo (my son),” you reassure, “Sometimes having babies makes you cry a little more often.”

Lucas seems a little confused by this. You tell him that he’ll understand when he gets older. After all, he only has so many years until hormones will start to rage through his own body.

Suddenly, the front door opens and closes in the next moment, and Inés giggles loudly as she recognizes the sound of her father’s footsteps. When he enters the kitchen doorway - his steps are way bigger even if Inés is running - he crouches down and opens his arms, “There she is! Mi diablilla (my little devil), how are you?”

Inés throws her arms around her father’s neck, drawing still clutched in her grip to the point where the paper crinkles. You feel like it was a waste of time to try and wipe away your happy tears because the sight makes them well up in your eyes once more.

“I made you a drawing. Abuelo told me I could give it to you before we go to his house. Did you know we are having pizza tonight? I can have a whole pizza to myself and I want the pizza to have pepperoni,” Inés announces, squealing with delight as Javier wraps his arms around her before stretching to his full height again and picking her up with a dad-groan. He places her on his hip, bumping his nose into her cheek.

“Christ, you get bigger by the second. Pizza? I don’t remember you liking pizza,” Javier teases, walking across the room to the rest of his family. He smiles at his son, reaching out to rub his shoulder with his free hand and winking at him before talking further with babbling Inés, “Hold on, I thought you liked broccoli and spinach the most. Do you really want pepperoni? I think you should get broccoli on your pizza.”

Inés loves it when her father teases her. He’ll act dumb and silly on purpose - her favorite thing a year ago had been whenever he made himself purposely bad at puzzles, and he’d try to piece two corners together - much to his daughter’s delight.

“Nooo, ew!” She says with a grin, clinging onto him.

“She only wants it because I want it,” Lucas says matter-of-factly, still a little frustrated with his little sister. He bounces back and forth on his heels.

“Then you can have her leftovers, mijo (my son), she never eats a whole pizza anyway” Javier reasons and mouths the last bit of the sentence, moving the hand on his son’s shoulder to put it on the back of his neck. He gently tugs him into his side. Eventually, your son gives in and hugs him around his middle.

“Hi Dad,” he says softly, hugging him tightly even if it’s briefly.

“Hola,” he smiles.

“We should get going,” Chucho interrupts gently and reaches for his hat again, “We’ve got a lot of things planned this afternoon. The animals won’t take care of themselves.”

“My drawing!” Inés yells, squirming in her father’s arms from eagerness and rushing, so much that she nearly smacks the picture into his face. She holds it too close to his eyes so that he has to take it and hold it for her.

You find yourself tiptoeing up behind them to look at the picture yourself, trying not to distract anyone from what they’re doing.

It’s a picture of your house. There’s a fire in the chimney but its smoke blows the opposite way of the way that a cloud is raining. She has just started drawing butterflies but they’re as big as the trees in the garden and with multicolored wings.

In the bottom right corner, she has written I love Daddy but replaced the word love with a heart instead. Underneath is her signature. The S in her name is turning the wrong way but it’s her name nevertheless.

“This is so good,” Javier says enthusiastically, “Tell me about it. What is it?”

“It’s my house! I drew a lot of butterflies in the garden,” she explains proudly. In the background, you notice that Chucho is carrying bags, which you had no idea were packed, out of the front door.

“I can see that. You really know how to color. The green one is my favorite,” Javier continues, “Do you want me to put it on the fridge for when you come home tomorrow?”

Inés nods eagerly. She beams and then turns serious, “Yes! If— if you want to take the rabbit one down that’s okay.”

“Oh, I am gonna miss you, mi vida (my life),” Javier pecks her cheek and she giggles, “So much.”

“It’s only till tomorrow,” you point out with a giggle.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss these rascals,” Javier puts Inés down on the floor again, still holding her drawing and making sure not to crumple it. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, “You too, hijo (son).”

“I love you, Dad,” he says with a shy smile.

“I love you too, Daddy!” Inés joins in.

You mimic a wave with Sebastian’s little hand, “I love you too, Papá.”

“Now, now. As much as I love you, say bye to Mom,” he protests, nodding towards his infant son, “Want me to take him?”

“Yes, please,” you say and carefully unwrap Sebastian from his sling. It’s not a difficult transfer, something you have done a million times in the past many years. Sebastian only complains a little, Javier tuts and bounces him and the paper in his hand flaps.

You hug both of your kids at the same time, kissing them repeatedly on their heads, “I love you very much, my babies. I hope you have a fun time.”

“That’s the car packed,” Chucho announces as he comes back inside, “Come on, kids.”

“Right, I’ll put Seb in his car seat,” Javier replies as Inés and Lucas run to their grandfather’s car. Chucho goes with them to put on their seatbelts.

“Sebastian is going too?” You tense up. This hasn’t even crossed your mind.

“It’s just supposed to be us tonight,” Javier says, having put Inés’ drawing on the kitchen counter and already moving towards the front door where the car seat is on top of a cabinet. You hear shuffling around as your husband clicks the safety belt on, and you instinctively follow.

“We haven’t done that since the summer,” you argue.

“All the more reason to do it again if it’s been that long,” he responds with a little smile.

“Well, does he have enough milk?” You ask, moving your weight from side to side.

“More than enough, I packed extra.”

“O-okay.”

Javier leaves the car seat on the floor, steps close to you and cups your face, “He’ll be fine. Just like Inés and Lucas have been in the past. Relax, mi amor, no pasa nada (my love, it’s okay).”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and nod, holding onto one of Javier’s wrists for a moment as you steady yourself. He looks like someone ready to catch you, “Está todo bien (it’s okay).”

“Now, let’s say goodbye so I can have you to myself, vale?” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you just barely.

“You have to tell me what you have planned tonight too,” you say and he nods.

“Claro (of course).”

It takes five minutes to get Sebastian in the car, secure him properly, and wave goodbye to your kids from the driveway. When you cannot see the car anymore, you walk inside and the house gets incredibly quiet after you close the door. The both of you let out a sigh.

“What now?” You look at Javier questioningly. After all, he is the one who has planned the next 24 hours.

“Honestly? I just want to take a nap,” he finds your hips and steers you closer, linking his arms around your waist. You reach up to rest your palms on his chest, scratching slightly against his shirt. He chuckles, “Do you want to take a nap with me?”

“Just a nap?” You raise a brow.

“Yes, just a nap,” he confirms with a boyish twinkle in his eyes.

“I’d kill for a nap but only if you tell me what’s happening later. I don’t like surprises,” you remind him when he already starts dragging you by your hand toward the stairs.

Javier waits until the both of you have ascended the stairs before telling you. You don’t say it but there’s a bit of relief following as you thought that he had forgotten what today was, especially because you usually at least get a present from him. He smiles brightly as he speaks, seeming proud that he has managed to keep it a secret from you, “Well, first you are going to wear something nice, a dress, and get all gorgeous for me.”

He continues as you reach the bedroom, toeing off his shoes, “Then at eight, I’m taking you out to dinner at that new place downtown where the portions are fucking tiny and ridiculous.”

“Wait, the gourmet restaurant?” You have let go of his hand to undo the baby wrap, folding it afterward and placing it on your shared dresser, “They’ve been fully booked for months.”

“Well yeah, and guess whose name is on one of the bookings,” he smirks, crawling onto the bed and waiting for you to follow.

“You spoil me,” you lay down on your respective sides and turn to face each other. You rest both hands underneath your cheek, grinning at the way that Javier looks so mischievous but suddenly, something in his eyes darkens.

“What?” You ask.

He reaches out for your waist, “And then when we get home, when you are all giggly from champagne, I am putting a baby in you.”

Your heart skips a beat. All blood in your body goes south. Without thinking, you sling a leg over his body and move closer, “Is that so?”

“Indeed, mi vida (my life),” the hand on your waist goes to rest on top of your thigh. He rubs it once and then twice but doesn’t do anything further, “But not now. Have a nap, wake up, and get pretty for me. You won’t get dick before tonight, lo siento (I’m sorry).”

“Unfair,” you mumble with already closed eyes.

It turns out to be just a nap. You wake a good while longer before Javier, knowing that you need more time than he does to get ready if you want to feel good about going to a fancy restaurant.

Besides you, your husband continues sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even sense it when the mattress shifts, bed springs creaking a little, as you leave the bed, and you make a mental note to ask him about his day to figure out what on Earth has made him this tired.

You have a checklist in your head with steps for getting ready to go out. It changes with the details of the event, so you pull out the one that includes what you like to do to look pretty for your husband. However, all the lists always start with a shower.

The spray is hot and soothing against your skin. You wash your hair and leave in your conditioner while you scrub your body, giving it extra time to work as you top your normal shower routine by shaving your legs. After struggling with balancing your leg against the wall for what has seemed like forever, the last five minutes of your shower are just spent standing underneath the shower head to feel the water cascading down your clean, smooth, and soft skin.

It takes you twenty-five minutes more to put on lotion, brush your teeth, blow dry your hair, and choose an outfit. When you leave the bathroom to put on your dress, Javier kisses you in the doorway before popping into the shower himself.

Now the hard part, you think to yourself. The dress you have chosen is from your anniversary a few years ago, consisting of tight red fabric. A part of you knows that it’s a bad idea as soon as you take it off its hanger and start putting it on, stepping into it, and pulling it up over your hips.

When it hugs your body in a way that feels unfamiliar to you, you step towards the full-body mirror on the bedroom wall with the intention of seeing if it needs any adjustments around your chest and waist. What greets you is not something that you wish to continue looking at but staring into the mirror, you find yourself unable to look away.

A reflection of your post-baby body stares back. You aren’t anymore who you were when you had Lucas, and thus getting back into your usual shape after giving birth to Sebastian has not become a reality despite the pressure from people around you being there.

There’s not much to say about it except your hips are wider and your stomach protrudes more than it did before. Usually, you haven’t worn a dress before getting down to your pre-pregnancy weight but Javier had made it sound so easy and now, it is so difficult; insecurities whisper in your ear as you try to flatten the fabric in hopes of looking prettier.

However, the scrutiny you put yourself under only intensifies and self-doubt becomes the uninvited guest that insecurity brings to the party. Should you ditch the idea of a dress altogether? You think yes and start to undress again because it’s way too tight around your middle and torso.

When Javier comes back into the bedroom, his hair is still damp and he has put on black underwear. You cannot help feeling the tiniest bit bitter at how well his extra pounds suit him and simply leaves him with a so-called dad-bod. He finds you stepping out of the dress as it has pooled around your feet. You look on the verge of tears at this point, knowing that you are not the woman that he chose to marry ten years ago.

“¿Que pasó (What happened)?” He is just about to head for the dresser when he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you, noticing immediately the way your shoulders slump when you feel defeated.

You smile at him in the mirror, slightly unsure, when he catches your eyes, and you shift a little on the spot when he goes to stand right behind you.

“What?” You ask.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires once again.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and Javier raises a brow.

“Is this a trick question?” He continues with a smile, “Baby, you are pretty, so pretty. You look incredible. As in, it is actually illegal or should be.”

Your attempt at a smile falters and Javier seems to realize that he has overdone it. You don’t believe him when he goes too head-on with the compliments.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you say in frustration and reach up to rub your face, finally turning around to avoid the mirror completely, “My boobs are too big, my thighs and waist too. Nothing looks good on me, especially not a dress.”

“Ay, slow down,” he looks down at your half-naked body and smirks a little. It mostly just makes you want to cover up again, “First of all, your boobs are great.”

You try to laugh but it just sounds painful. Then he finds your eyes again, watches the pout on your face, and tuts when a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek.

“I’m not beautiful anymore,” you say as if it’s a fact, “I look so different from when you met me.”.

He wipes the tear away with his thumb, saying your name gently and you find your eyes prickling with more frustrated tears.

He lets out a soft aww, baby, and steps closer to pull you into his arms, holding you as he lets you whimper quietly and then cry softly into his shoulder. His hands rub up and down your back. He is so warm.

“How about I choose something?” He suggests after a long silence filled with a bunch of silent tears. He pulls back to look you in the face, “You know I have a favorite, and then it won’t be as much pressure if you worry that I won’t like it. Even if that’s bullshit.”

“O-okay,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Okay, baby,” he smiles genuinely and pecks your hair.

He goes to browse through your clothes and you stay by the mirror, still not turning around to look at yourself but instead looking at your feet like a child feeling guilty. It takes a moment for him to find the dress that he refers to as his favorite but when he returns to you, you look up again and are surprised by the one he apparently likes more than all the others.

It’s a navy blue satin dress that you bought last year when you were pregnant with Sebastian, and it quickly became your favorite dress for the summer because it had to be tied just below your breasts and therefore didn’t sit tight around your belly. It has butterfly sleeves and a flowy skirt that is slightly longer in the back and stops right at your knees in the front. It’s a wrap-around too, which means that it shows enough cleavage to make you feel sexy for him and to top it off, holds your breasts in place so you can avoid the annoyance of a bra.

You don’t know why it didn’t come to mind but you suspect that given how much you wore it last summer, it didn’t feel special enough. However, the fact that Javier likes it so much seems to transform it into the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen.

Javier pulls the dress off its hanger and walks around you. He puts it on you like a coat and then stands in front of you to tie a knot on the front, undoing it and redoing it when he isn’t satisfied with his creation the first time. None of you say anything. None of you feel the need to.

His hands smooth out the fabric in a careful manner, and you suddenly find that Javier making you feel loved is so interchangeable with you feeling beautiful that you don’t have a clue why you had been in tears five minutes earlier.

He helps you into your heels too, lifting your feet one at a time by holding your ankle. The action is so gentle that you forget to breathe, even more so when he stretches to his full height once more and cups your face.

“Listen to me,” he says and there’s a certain sternness in his voice. Despite this, he doesn’t sound mean or angry, “I don’t ever want you saying these things about yourself again, okay?”

You nod your head as much as you are able to. A whimper wants to escape your lips but you hold it back.

“You are my wife, mi vida (my life),” he begins, letting his hands smooth over your shoulders and then down your arms until he can hold both of your hands, “I don’t give a shit about what you used to look like, it’s past, it’s not important. Eres tan hermosa (you are so beautiful). Look at the love you pour into our family. You’re the best Momma in the world, patient and kind, and I am in awe of you every day to the point where I can’t stop falling for you in new ways. You make me happy, make it worthwhile to power through at work so I can come home to you and the kids.”

“And you have never looked sexier,” he continues, eyes going down your body to see for himself that he is undoubtedly right. He grabs your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Your hips, your thighs… You’ve carried my children, for fuck’s sake. Without you, I’m nothing.”

“I mean look at you…” He trails off for a moment, looking down at where his hand is resting on your hip. You cannot help thinking about how warm his strong hand is, radiating comfort throughout your body. He looks lost in his thoughts and licks his lips without thinking.

“Javi,” you say quietly.

“Do you understand?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say almost nervously.

But then suddenly, his arms are around your waist and he is pulling you in for a kiss that makes you forget about the dinner reservation, the insecurities, and the time management altogether. You sling your arms around his neck and give in to his lips on yours, following him wherever he goes as he tugs you away from the mirror and towards the bed.

Before he instructs you to lie down, his hands find the knot on the front of your dress. He undoes it slowly, letting the dress fall open like a satin robe and groaning at the sight of your lack of a bra. He lets his hands go inside the dress, skimming his palms around your waist to pull you close and your head swims from the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Hermosa (beautiful),” he says, hands going up and cupping the underside of your breasts, You smile shyly, looking down to where he is touching you. Warmth has started to burn low in your belly just like before you fell asleep.

With newfound bravery, you reach up to peel the dress off of your shoulders. It falls down to your elbows, exposing your chest and tickling your back, until you let it slip off onto the ground in a pool around your feet. Javier looks like he might need someone to tell him to breathe.

He wraps one arm around your body and reaches behind your thigh with the other to pull your leg up slightly. Allowing him to slip you off your feet, he moves you onto the bed in a swift motion.

You kick off your heels as soon as you can, crawling back towards the headboard and Javier follows you without having to get undressed. After all, he never got any further because he saw you. You feel like you want to giggle with glee at the fact that you still have this effect on him years later.

Instinctively, you bend your legs and plant your feet flat on the mattress and without hesitation, Javier crawls between them to look down at you and marvel at the sight. He looks like a child on Christmas Day, hands reaching out to run up your shins, over your knees, and to grope at your thighs.

“Qué fuerte (unbelievable), are you really my wife?” He muses while rubbing your thighs absentmindedly. You reach for his hands and tug him down to you.

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love),” you sound drunk on him already, using his own words against him. He is so close to you as he lies on top of you, crushing you so heavenly with his weight.

He kisses you longingly and gently scoops you into his strong arms whilst he does it, holding you flush against himself so you can feel your nipples harden against his chest. When you inhale through your nose to keep the kiss going, his scent fills your nostrils and God, he smells like soap and home.

It takes a minute to move on. You can see how he wants to descend on your body but each time he tries, you want another kiss and he happily indulges you. Like a couple of teenagers, you only stop when both of you have slightly swollen lips and he has a hard-on poking into your thigh.

“Let’s get these off,” Javier crawls back on the bed with elevated breath, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and you help by lifting your ass off the mattress for a moment. His eyes are glued to your soft, fresh-out-of-the-shower and glowing skin, kissing your ankle as he slips your underwear off your feet and throws it to the side.

“You are so fucking hot,” he sounds in awe, “Look at you.”

You cannot stop grinning. Even when he lowers himself down on the bed again and gets comfortable between your thighs.

When he settles, he takes the sight of you in. You can feel your heartbeat in your untouched clit, and it only gets more powerful when Javier looks between your legs as if he is starved. He noses along your knee and then bites your inner thigh, growling under his breath. He moves inwards towards your quivering cunt then finds your eyes just before he dives in, indulges, “Do you know how fucking wet you are for me?”

You do know. It has steadily gotten to the point where you know that when you are going out later, you need to wear a new pair of underwear since the white cotton has probably become see-through and shiny.

And then his mouth is on you and you throw your head back, nearly breaking your neck and letting out a hah-sound as you stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re so good at that,” you moan, letting your eyes fall shut so nothing can distract you from the way his velvety tongue feels between your legs. It is intense to focus on nothing but the way he can guide it over your clit until your toes start to curl, “Oh my God, baby!”

When he kisses your clit and then sucks on it afterward, you lose your mind. Both of your hands come down to rest on the top of his head and when you feel the first flutters of pleasure that tell you that you are getting closer, you cannot keep your hips still. You move underneath his mouth, pushing your pelvis upward occasionally to let him devour you even further.

He eats you until you are seeping arousal into the bedsheets, pussy aching to be filled and stretched in only the way that his cock can. You twitch, clit pulsing, when his mouth leaves you briefly but you know what is to come - other than you, obviously - so you don’t complain. He does it to concentrate on slipping two fingers inside of you, pressing them upwards toward your g-spot before curling them over and over again.

His mouth finds your clit again and he is beyond his usual enthusiasm. The hands on his head stop simply resting there. Instead, you thread your fingers through his hair to channel the way you want to scream into something else because oh, mmhm, oh… oh!

You come on his tongue, shaking like a leaf and with a high-pitched moan that bounces off the walls. Your whole lower body spasms, walls clamping down on Javier’s fingers which still press towards your front wall and make you delirious with pleasure.

“Fuck!” You cry, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Javier has pushed himself to his knees to watch you. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, teasing out the very last twitches of your high by going in circles until you need to yank his wrist away from the overstimulation.

After a moment, you begin to giggle. Your hand skims over your forehead, holding it there afterward in an almost soothing manner. Javier is looking at you, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and is now trying to decipher whether he can move on to something more or if you need a break.

At no point do either of you think about checking the time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” you say when you finally get your breath under control. You still feel giggly but instead, it comes out as a soft chuckle as you speak.

“You make it sound like I don’t do this often,” he crawls closer to you again, and you tell him to come here as he enters your arms. He kisses your neck a few times and then looks up at you, “I go down there quite a lot and often, you know.”

“Yes, yes, like a good boy, I know,” you tease him, reaching for his chin to pull him into a soft and lazy kiss. He tastes like you, and you lose yourselves in each other once more until Javier pulls off his briefs with one hand. He discards them without leaving you for too long, throwing them to whatever spot he had aimed your own underwear at.

“Need to have you close,” you voice what you long for, having grown needy from seeing him undress completely. The sight of his beautiful cock is enough to get you fired up again, clenching around nothing, “Please.”

You spread your legs even further and Javier lies between them, reaching down to ease his cock inside of you. He enters you slowly and with a shaky breath, the both of you staring down to watch as he disappears inside of your cunt.

You hold onto his arms, breathing hard and trying to relax as it stings slightly due to his generous girth. The second he bottoms out, you whine feebly as if you have been holding it back and it’s now safe to do so.

“Lo sé (I know),” he soothes.

“You feel so good,” you babble, “I love you.”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” he bumps your noses together, looking into your eyes as he moves once and then twice. Your mouth falls open in a gasp and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You slide your hands underneath his arms to hug him close, letting them go up along his broad back and each ripple of muscle that flexes as he fucks you until you can clutch onto his shoulders. You rock with him, relishing in the smooth motion of his hips moving back and forth to stretch your cunt open again and again.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders until your knuckles start to ache. No matter how many times he is with you like this, it will never be enough. It will never be enough because you need him to be this close and connected to you every goddamn day. It’s like a hardcore drug that clouds your brain, like the oxygen that you breathe in daily, like the food and drink necessary to survive.

Without interrupting him, you move to dig your heels into the back of his legs. With each stroke of his cock inside of you, each roll of his gorgeous hips and pelvis, you can feel the muscles of his calves tightening and relaxing. Your limbs tangling around him allows you to angle him how you want it most, so you mumble something and dig your heels in further.

Suddenly, his pelvic bone crashes against your clit, and it continues doing so until you know that this is how you are going to come a second time.

“Oh, just like that,” you let your head fall back into the mattress, “You’re gonna make me— Javi! You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Is this pussy mine? Esta cosita linda (This pretty little thing)?” He asks with a growl, sounding so sexy that you know he is determined to make your orgasm approach even faster because his thrusts speed up.

“Para toda la vida (for life),” you say breathlessly, panting as you near your crescendo. It only takes a few more strokes against your clit and then you are done for, coming a second time with a sharp intake of breath and then a cry that could disturb the neighbors from whatever they are doing.

He kisses each whimper from your mouth and slows down a little to give you space for you to return to him. However, you know that this isn’t the end. His stamina today is mind-boggling but you don’t complain, instead take what he can give you even if it leaves you sore until the next day.

“You okay?” He asks when you have calmed down.

You let your arms and legs fall down to your sides with a blissful expression on your face. You nod, reaching up to rub your eyes as you feel deeply sated, “Just give me a moment.”

“Think you can take anymore?” He pulls out of you to get back onto his knees. You make a noise. On his shoulders, you spot the little crescent marks that your nails have left.

“We’re making babies, right?” You note.

“Claro (of course),” he snorts.

“Then you better screw me silly, Mr. Peña,” you shift slightly on the bed to present your spent cunt for him once more but more obscenely this time by reaching down and spreading your lips open. He groans at the sight, especially when you visibly clench around nothing and silently promise him what’s to come.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Peña,” he almost sounds in pain from the desperation to get back inside of you.

The sweet tenderness and romance are put on hold for something dirtier to take their place, Javier moving forward until the front of his thighs touches the back of yours. He pushes inside of you again with a gasp of your name and places his hands on your hips, holding on tightly so he can pound you into the mattress.

The sound of his skin slamming against yours fills the room along with your moans, and each thrust sends ripples of intense pleasure through your body now that you are so sensitive. You allow yourself the relief of crying out towards the ceiling because, for the next twenty-four hours, you are completely child-free so who cares?

Javier’s eyes burn with desire at your noises. He is so beautiful, mouth hanging slightly open as he pants and his shoulders looking even broader when he hovers above you. And his noises, he is louder than normal too, you realize, with no intention of quieting his moans down either.

A particular snap of his hips sends you reeling as he nudges your g-spot just right and makes you grip at the sheets. Javier is on you like a hawk and notices immediately the way that his cock has severed connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that? You like my cock?” He digs his thumbs into your hip bones, indulging himself by staring down at where his cock pistons in and out of you. His length is sticky with your arousal, “I can tell you like my cock, God, your come is all over me, baby.”

You bite your lower lip, furrow your brows, and nod repeatedly, “Yes… yesyesyes!”

“You’re on fire today, mi amor (my love), makes me wanna come inside of you like I’m meant to,” he spits filthy words as he goes harder, “Think you can give me one more? Make those gorgeous legs shake?”

The comment about your legs makes you bend them to your chest so you can link your arms under your knees. The position makes Javier swear under his breath, and when you squeeze around your calves, he becomes a tighter fit inside of you and a sob escapes you.

He is the one to look drunk now, fighting the urge to let his eyes roll back into his skull in case he misses anything you do while he drives into your pussy in this new position. He moves his hands to place them on the back of your thighs and contort your body slightly. He digs his fingers into the extra pounds there and then fucks you with your shared pleasure in mind.

The squelch of your cunt is obscene and you almost sound like you’re crying from how he pounds your g-spot. A third high, which started building slowly, approaches so quickly that you squeeze your eyes shut and nearly choke as you scream for him, “Yes, oh my God, yes! I’m—“

“That’s my girl,” he sounds close too, “Get it all over my cock, baby.”

The bliss you feel as you come a third time turns your demeanor from pathetic and whimpering into smiling and giggling instead. You look up at him with hazy eyes while you are grinning, moaning, and coming so hard that Javier cannot stop himself from laughing slightly even if it’s interrupted by his own moans.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous coming for me,” he praises with a shit-eating grin, gasping sharply at reaching his own peak a second later because he just cannot hold back any longer. He pulses inside of you, breeds you until you are filled to the brim, and you can feel some of it spilling out onto the bed sheets.

Exhausted is not the right word. Your whole body slumps when post-orgasmic bliss hits you and you groan as Javier topples down on top of you as well. You melt together and breathe hard, one big tangle of limbs turning you into an octopus.

“Definitely didn’t have time for that,” you say eventually.

“Stop being so hot then,” he jokes. He lifts his head to kiss you longingly and you allow yourself to lose yourself in it, again forgetting about the time that’s ticking by.

As Javier reluctantly tears himself away from you, he casually looks at the clock on the nightstand and gets up so quickly that he needs to find his balance. He seems to realize that you are not just fashionably late but actually really late, “Mierda (shit).”

You check the time too and swear as well. It is twenty minutes to eight, and it takes at least fifteen minutes to drive to the inner city. There’s no way that the two of you are going to make the reservation, and you will just have to hope that they are kind enough to hold onto your table the minutes you are going to be late.

It seems like you turn into the stars of your own romantic comedy, the only thing missing being the laughing track in the background because you move through the house so quickly that you almost forget to put on underwear after getting cleaned up in the bathroom. The rush doesn’t even give you time to ponder your shape in the mirror again.

By the time you actually leave the house, you are laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and looking disheveled. In fact, you have to stop Javier from getting into your car because his buttons are buttoned unevenly and his collar looks like he’s been out in a storm.

“Right, fuck, what’s the time?” Javier asks when he slams the car door on his side.

You look at the car radio’s clock, making a concerned noise, “Hmm… Ten to eight. If you speed a little?”

“I’m law enforcement,” he deadpans.

“You’re also late for a booking you have had for months,” you argue.

Javier pulls out of the driveway but despite it all, he still doesn’t speed with the mother of his children in the car.

However, he does use his badge in the window to get a parking spot close to the restaurant. He pulls it from the glove box and you raise an eyebrow at him, to which he simply tells you to shut up with a tiny glint in his eye.

Your heels click on the sidewalk as you speedwalk towards the restaurant’s main entrance. Javier holds the door open for you, and for a moment, you actually look like a couple who has it all together and is on a date.

Despite this, it seems that impromptu sex is apparently not good for new restaurant businesses, even if it starts out innocently with an intention of comforting one’s partner, because your table has already been given to someone else. You can see Javier’s fist tightening into a ball at his side as he is told this.

The man at the front desk looks unimpressed with your husband’s attempt to make him show you to a table anyway, and you even hear Javier saying that he cannot, in good conscience, let you starve.

You stand a little behind your husband who quietly fumes because nothing seems to work, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid we’re fully booked tonight and many nights ahead. It is Valentine’s Day after all.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he replies with gritted teeth.

“Honey,” you reach out to put a hand on his arm and he whirls around, only to look a lot more calm the second he finds your gaze, “It’s fine. Come on, we’ll find someplace else.”

“But you’re starving,” he says helplessly.

“Then let’s not keep this up. I know a place around the corner,” you smile at him, holding out your hand until he gives in and takes it, “Besides, they can keep their tiny portions to themselves.”

It may just be the last remains of what you did half an hour ago but Javier starts snickering while you guide him through the door and out into the evening air. He only manages to walk down the street with you for a few yards before he presses you against a brick wall and kisses you.

“No,” you scold him playfully and place your palms on his chest, “I don’t care if you’re Laredo’s local hero. You couldn’t get a table so we’re not wasting time by making out in public. Like you said, I am starving.”

“Descarada (cheeky devil),” he pecks your lips but lets go of you, “Fine, lead the way.”

The two of you start walking. The place you have in mind is only a short walk away and it’s a nice night, so you don’t mind. Especially not when you can walk hand-in-hand with Javier the whole way and not have to say a thing.

You end up in front of a food truck that sells tacos. It is the perfect spot for something low-key which makes your whole night seem even funnier now that you are so overdressed. The two of you snicker together as you wait in line, mostly resembling a couple who have escaped a tedious wedding to get junk food.

“My treat,” he says.

“You better. It’s your fault we’re here,” you tease.

“I think we have different versions of what happened back home,” he winks, “But fine, order whatever you want. Like always.”

You order your food, telling the owner of the food truck to go heavy on the pico de gallo and Javier follows behind with his own order. After paying, you take a step back to let other people buy their food.

“This is where we had our first date,” he notices, an arm around your waist as you wait for your food. He tightens his grip around you as he speaks, “Where I knew I wanted to marry you, have kids with you.”

“This is not where we had our first date,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, looking at him long enough for him to give you a kiss.

“Yes it was,” he replies.

“No, you were drunk and we were heading home from the bar a few blocks from here,” you remind him, “We’d only just met. Connie told me not to follow you.”

“Fuckin’ Connie,” he shakes his head, “No, that was definitely our first date. I don’t care what you say. I just don’t wanna think about the disaster that followed even if you want to call that the first date.”

“You were late and we missed our reservation,” you reminisce, “Just like today.”

“Which is why I am not calling it the first,” he lets go of you as the woman in the truck places your orders on the counter. He hands you yours and then takes his own, “We had food, talked for hours and you were wearing that dress with the bows.”

“No more talk about dresses,” you groan as you walk to find a spot, “You’re making me depressed.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs with a grin, “I knew then.”

“Well, I knew when Connie told me you were forbidden fruit,” you smile back at him, and there’s something strangely comforting about knowing that he follows right behind.

The food truck's sitting area is right behind it in a cozy nook between two buildings. As disappointed as you were at not getting to try out the new restaurant in town, the picnic tables, and colorful plastic chairs more than make up for it. It is a lot more romantic than what you assume the gourmet restaurant would have been, and you choose a spot right underneath a blanket of string lights that seem to imitate stars.

There are a few guests aside from you, and you feel warm at hearing their voices filled with laughter and joy.

You sit down on the bench and tuck your skirt between your knees, getting comfortable and looking excitedly down at your soon-to-be-devoured food. There’s something uniquely satisfying about a greasy meal after sex, and even more so when your husband indulges you to have whatever you want.

You pick up your taco and bite into it, doing a happy dance as you chew whilst Javier watches you with a grin on his face. However, the happiness is short-lived because something in the taco triggers a wave of nausea and you soon realize that it is the pico de gallo.

“What is it?” Javier has caught on because you cannot help but grimace.

“This tastes funny,” you say. Puzzled, you take another bite but quickly stop yourself before you are stupid enough to go for a third. Your stomach growls but there’s no way you are eating the rest without at least scraping it off.

Carefully, you place the taco back down on its paper tray and take a few napkins from the dispenser on the end of the picnic table. You spit your latest bite out into one of them because your body does not agree with the idea of swallowing the acidity again. Then you take a long sip of your water and wish you had something to neutralize the taste in your mouth.

Without thinking much of it, you start to rid your food of the salsa fresca. You use your index finger to scrape it out onto the napkin and pick any remaining pieces off too, avoiding the natural instinct to suck your finger clean and wipe it on a new napkin instead. In front of you, Javier has stopped eating and simply watches you.

You feel slightly judged by him, narrowing your eyes from annoyance, “What?”

“Are you pregnant?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“What? No way,” you let out a chuckle of disbelief, “That’s not funny.”

“Honey,” he continues, nodding down at the napkin, “You love pico de gallo.”

“So? The only times I haven’t eaten it has been when I’m pregna—“ your eyes widen, looking down at your taco for a moment before staring at Javier again. He looks just as alarmed by your food which is only two bites down, “There’s no way.”

Around you, people have started to notice a shift in your voice. It probably sounds like you are upset, like Javier is using Valentine’s Day to break up with you.

“Baby, there’s no way,” you say again and your voice has become a little higher pitched, “I’d only be five weeks along.”

To the opposite of you, Javier is speechless. He has stopped eating his own dinner, sitting with his own taco but is unable to figure out how to react.

“We can’t have been lucky the first time around. My period is due in a few days. This is ridiculous. Sebastian is only just about five months old,” you are starting to sound frantic, “Javi. Baby, I am freaking out.”

Javier blinks a few times almost as if he is mentally shaking himself out of his trance. He reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrist, “Calm down. Let’s just finish eating and then we can go get one of those early detection tests, yeah? Te prometo que todo va a salir bien (I promise you that everything is going to be okay).”

“Yes, alright, you’re right,” you feel instantly calmed by his touch, turning your palm upward so he can hold your hand instead. Then you frown, “But I can’t eat this. It’s probably still going to taste like it.”

“Hold on,” he says, letting go of you to switch plates with you without hesitation, “There, now you can eat.”

“Te quiero (I love you),” you sigh happily, smiling at him from across the table.

“Love you too, now eat, so you can feed my kid,” he starts to load the taco with pico de gallo again.

The late-night pharmacy, just opening, exudes a subtle but steady hum of activity, bathing in the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. Shelves are neatly lined with pharmaceuticals, and you scrunch up your nose at the faint scent of antiseptic. Javier keeps a hand on the small of your back the whole time, steering you gently toward the counter as if this new piece of information has made him instantly more protective.

There’s only a single pharmacist behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with her glasses around her neck in a chain, but she doesn’t blink when you explain your sudden emergency. She beckons you down along the aisles and grabs a few different pregnancy tests for you to choose from.

“This one is more certain but it does cost a little extra,” she explains and holds up a Clearblue digital test. Javier quickly exchanges a look with you.

“We’ll take that one, actually make it two,” you say, tapping your feet nervously on the floor, “Can I use the bathroom here?”

“We’re that eager?” She smiles, “Sure, dear. Let me just get the key.”

Javier pays at the counter, a twinkle in his eyes as he makes a joke, “My treat again.”

“You better; you’re the one who got us into this mess - again,” you giggle and it even earns you a chuckle from the pharmacist.

“I hope you get the result you are hoping for,” she says when unlocking the door to the staff toilet. She ushers you both inside the door and then closes it behind you.

Silence at last, you think to yourself and even find that the water you drank with your meal earlier has run right through you. You pull up your skirt, twisting it and tying a knot to keep it from falling down again. You go for your underwear next, bending over to pull them down your legs to your ankles. You feel Javier’s palm steadying you without thinking.

Besides you, Javier starts tearing open the Clearblue boxes. He hands them to you one by one, and you finally sit down to pee, angling your wrist awkwardly to make sure you use the sticks correctly. The both of you stay silent through the whole ordeal.

You wrap both pregnancy tests in toilet paper and hand them to Javier who places them on the edge of the sink so you can finish up and get dressed again. He takes a step to the side to let you wash your hands, having crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his fingers nervously.

While you listen to the sound of the water running, the air in the tiny, poorly lit bathroom seems to hang thick with anticipation. You want to say something but there is nothing you can say that’ll ease your shared, anxious heartbeat. Eventually, Javier beats you to it.

“Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative,” he gives you an uncertain smile. Mostly, it sounds as if he is talking to himself.

“You know I will be,” you sigh, stepping close to link your arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, cupping your waist and rubbing soothingly with his thumbs.

“Me too,” he lets out a shaky breath.

“I know,” you automatically tighten your grip on him as the minutes go by, knowing that he needs it as much as you. On the sink, the white plastic sticks seem to mock you with their silence.

Come on…

A few minutes more and suddenly, you know there is no way back. It seems ridiculous that a stick with your pee on it has the ability to predict your future but here you are. You shake your head after untangling yourself from your husband, “I can’t look.”

Javier bravely takes them from their place on the sink. Your stomach does somersaults as he unwraps them, twisting them so their displays face upward. A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face and he looks up immediately, “You’re four to five weeks pregnant.”

“What?” You grab his wrist to take a look for yourself, “There’s no way!”

Sure enough, both displays show a positive result and an approximate number of weeks. Calculating in your head, you know it has to be that one time in the middle of the night in January. The thought of getting it right without even really having begun is crazy because it’s so unbelievable.

“That’s so surreal,” you walk straight into his arms. He hugs you tightly, resting his lips on your forehead and you can feel his elevated breathing because you are so close to him.

“Pop is going to have a heart attack,” he mumbles with slight amusement, although you can hear the tremor in his voice. You look into his eyes, reaching up to cup his cheek and smiling softly.

“We can’t tell anyone yet, it’s not been three months,” you say, lost in just staring at him. He is so beautiful when he is happy.

“God, I know, I'm just so excited,” he chuckles, a little embarrassed.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out that it’s going to be a Halloween baby,” you grin.

“Oh fuck, forget about Pop; Inés is gonna get so pissed if she has to share Halloween with a birthday child,” he starts to laugh after he has said it. You join in, high on the happiness you feel.

“I love you so much,” you say when the laughter dies down.

“I love you too,” he kisses you after saying it.

“And happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you continue, letting Javier pull away to throw the pregnancy tests out and wash his hands.

“See? Now you’re using it right,” he teases after drying his hands.

Then he opens the door and waits for you to step outside. Everything seems possible tonight.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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alwaysmicado · 8 months

Text

You wanted this

3.1k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 1

When he gives you this look, you know you're fucked - literally.

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, alcohol, smut: piv sex, rough oral m and f receiving, rimming, choking, D/s dynamic, creampie, pet names, degradation/praise Summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right? A/N: Please read the warnings before you continue! You're about to read unadulterated filth. We're headed straight for Whoreville™️ and there's no getting off early (wink wink). We'll see more of these two for sure... Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🖤 pt. 2 / series masterlist / AO3

“You look hot,” you purr into Joel’s ear, “expecting someone special?” He chuckles and turns to look at you.

“I actually was,” he smirks, “but she was too busy flirting with some random guy over there, so now I’m just entertaining myself with a drink.”

He taps the glass and studies your face. You look especially stunning tonight, your skin is glowing and your smile is illuminating the dimly lit bar.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting,” you coo, playing with the straw of your cocktail. Joel raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“Is that right? What else would you call it, darlin’?”

“Trying to explain to him why I left him alone in bed a few days ago and never returned his calls,” you answer while maintaining eye contact.

“Hmm, and why did you?” Joel asks, taking another sip of his drink.

You scoff and shake your head. “None of your business, Miller.” He gives you a knowing smile and nods.

“It’s a shame though,” his deep sultry voice makes you shiver, “I know how nice it is to wake up next to you.” He puts his hand on your knee, causing your skin to heat up and a familiar ache to grow between your legs.

“You’ve only ever done it once because I was too drunk to go home, so how would you know, hm?” you purr, leaning in to be closer to him.

“So feisty today,” he starts caressing your thigh gently, brushing the hem of your mini dress, “I’m assuming you’re frustrated because you haven’t been fucked right?”

You chuckle and down the rest of your drink. “I dunno, Joel. What would you call not being able to walk for the past three days because he fucked me for hours on end? I’m sure you could still see bite marks on my thighs if you looked closely,” you smirk and open your legs for him to see you’re not wearing any panties.

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, his eyes completely black now. “You wanna act like a whore, baby?” he growls and grips your hip with his other hand, “You know I got no problem treating you like one.”

He starts kissing your neck with his warm wet lips, mumbling into your skin how he’s going to enjoy putting you in your place. You’re legs are trembling and you’re moaning softly into his ear.

He loves seeing you like this - squirming under his touch, pupils blown, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. All because of him.

“Get up,” he orders, “we’re going.”

---

“Last chance, darlin',” Joel growls, “I ain't gonna be gentle, so get the fuck out now if you can't take it.” Oh, now he did it. He's playing you like a fiddle and you both know it.

“Do your worst, old man,” you bite back, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.” He glowers at you, the darkness in his eyes setting all of your nerves on fire.

He closes the distance between you two in a few strides and towers over you menacingly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the irresistible scent that is so uniquely him. The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

Joel leans in, his left hand pulling you close by your waist, his right hand grabbing the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole. You understand?” “Yes, sir,” you nod, wetness seeping out of your pussy. You fucking love it when he gets like this.

Joel’s eyes carefully search yours and when he’s satisfied with what he finds, he immediately pulls you close to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. He’s greedily sucking and biting at your lips, tangling one hand in your hair and squeezing your ass with the other, wanting to devour you - make you his.

You’re just as eager to give him what he wants, completely pliant under his touch, moaning into his mouth and rubbing yourself on his thigh.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, breaking the kiss and tracing your swollen bottom lip with his thumb.

He looks into your glazed over eyes, mesmerized by the fact that such a stunning creature is submitting to him so willingly. He palms himself over his pants, his cock painfully hard and in desperate need of relief.

“On your knees, baby. Hands on your thighs,” he commands, his gaze never leaving yours while you lower yourself on the floor. “Good girl,” he praises, unzipping his pants and pulling them down together with his boxer briefs just enough to free his heavy cock and balls.

You gasp at the sight, never really getting used to his sheer size, despite having taken him before. You bite your lip and press your thighs together to relieve at least some of the burning ache in your core.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate for my cock,” Joel murmurs, tilting your chin up and pressing down on your tongue with his thumb, “my beautiful girl. Now, you’re gonna take what I give you, darlin’. I’m not gonna stop, so don’t even try your whining. The only thing I wanna hear is you gagging on my cock, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Joel positions himself in front of your mouth and taps your lips with the tip of his cock. “Open up, baby, stick your tongue out.” You do just that and Joel hums approvingly.

Holding the base with his right hand, he slides his cock into your warm wet mouth in one single thrust until he’s hitting the back of your throat. “Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans, “I’ve missed your perfect mouth so much.”

You gag and sputter, trying to move your head to relax your throat for a second, but Joel is faster than you, gripping the back of your head with both of his hands, effectively holding you in place.

“Nuh-uh, princess,” he tuts mockingly, “where do you think you’re going, huh?” Your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re choking, but Joel just smirks at you. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to look at me while I’m fucking your pretty face,” and with that he sets a punishing pace, bucking his hips into your mouth over and over again.

You're gorgeous - on your knees, reduced to a crying, drooling mess over his cock. Joel's clenching his teeth, every muscle in his body strained while forcing you to take his length.

“You’re doing so well, baby. So perfect for me,” he groans, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit is throbbing and you can feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

When one of Joel’s thrusts hits particularly deep, you instinctively brace your hands against his thighs, trying to push him away. He just laughs at you, tightening his grip on your neck.

“Poor baby,” he scoffs, “not used to my big cock anymore? Why fuck that loser if he doesn’t even do it right, hm?” Your cheeks are burning and you shove at his legs again. “Keep doing that,” Joel chuckles, “you look so cute when you try to fight me.”

He thrusts his hips a few more times before pulling out with a strangled groan and releasing your head. “Don’t wanna come yet,” he mumbles. You’re immediately gasping for air, chest heaving, tears still spilling down from your now closed eyes. Joel scoops up the thick string of saliva that connects his cock with your lips and spreads it on your cheeks. His soft touch doesn’t match the filthy action.

He crouches down so he’s on your level and tilts your head up gently. “Hey, look at me,” he scans your face, “you okay?” Your eyes meet his concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Just needed a second to breathe,” you reassure him.

He looks at you intently for a moment longer before getting up and motioning to the bed. “Take your clothes and shoes off and lie on your back.”

You get up and pull your dress over your head, take off your heels and sway your hips on your way to Joel’s bed. It smells like him and you hate that you can’t stay and fall asleep here. Pull him close at night, savor his warmth, marvel at his precious sleepy face in the morning.

As soon as you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your head propped up on Joel’s pillows, he walks towards you. “Spread your pretty legs for me, darlin’. I wanna see how wet you got choking on my cock.”

You slowly open your legs while keeping eye contact. Joel sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your puffy and glistening cunt. He unbuttons his shirt hastily, letting it fall to the floor. “Touch your clit, baby,” he pants, unlacing his shoes and keeping his eyes on you.

You obey and start circling your neglected bundle of nerves with two fingers. A desperate moan escapes your lips as you’re finally able to get some relief. Joel takes off his shoes and pants, staring at you for a second before climbing on the bed and stopping between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” He slowly traces your legs with his fingertips, enjoying how you writhe under his touch. When he stops just at the apex of your thighs, you whine desperately, only for him to do it again.

“Please touch me, Joel, please,” you whimper, unable to keep your composure anymore. He sits back on his heels and keeps caressing your thighs while you’re continuously drawing circles on your clit.

“D’you fuck him raw?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to halt your movement.

You gaze into his dark eyes and shake your head, “No.” He nods and starts peppering your thighs with kisses, gripping your hips with his calloused hands.

“Good,” he murmurs, nipping and biting at your soft skin, “‘cause I’m not wearing a goddamn condom with you. Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be leaking me until I fill you up again.” You whimper at the prospect of feeling Joel’s warm cum deep inside you again and try to shift your hips, so he’ll finally touch you where you most need him.

“Mmm, yeah baby, I like the thought of that, too,” he smirks, his face now hovering right above your wet cunt, “but I really wanna taste you first.” He starts by spreading your lips with his hands, opening you up for him to look at you fully exposed.

“Fuck me, sweetheart,” he groans, “you have the cutest little pussy I’ve ever seen.” He draws the hood of your clit back with his right thumb, keeping your lips spread with his left middle and index finger. You mewl at the sensation, spurring him on to finally latch his lips onto your yearning clit, sucking eagerly before licking a broad stripe from your asshole up to your wet slit.

“Oh fuuuck!” you cry out, clawing at the sheets when he repeats the motion with his tongue, now also circling your clit with his thumb. “Mmm, you taste divine, darlin’.” He slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, pumping them in and out of you steadily. The squelching sounds from your pussy mixed with the sound of your breathy moans are making Joel dizzy.

Right when he feels your walls starting to clamp down around his fingers, he stops his movements. “Turn around for me, baby. Ass up face down,” he orders, sitting back on his heels to watch you get into position.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “being so good for me, doing everything I say”. He caresses your ass cheeks and the backs of your thighs before dragging his nose through your wet folds, inhaling your intoxicating scent. Your whole body shivers at the sensation.

Joel starts sucking on your clit again while fucking you with two of his thick fingers. You clench around him, the way he’s rhythmically pumping his fingers in and out of you almost enough to send you over the edge right then.

“Fuck, baby, so sensitive today,” Joel teases, licking from your clit up to your asshole. He starts lapping at the tight ring eagerly, reducing you to a whimpering, trembling mess when he dips his tongue inside of you repeatedly. “Mmm, I love the pretty little sounds you make for me,” he groans, wiping his mouth and chin with his forearm.

He spreads your cheeks and looks at your exposed holes in awe. You look absolutely delicious and Joel wants nothing more than to bury himself as deep inside you as possible. He laps your juices up thirstily, the vibrations from his moans sending shockwaves through your whole body. His throbbing cock is leaking precum, screaming for attention.

“I need to fuck you, baby” Joel hisses, manhandling you onto your back. He’s on you in an instant, kissing you hungrily, his hand tangling in your hair. You squirm underneath him, tilting your pelvis to gain some friction. “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he finally aligns his tip with your core and pushes his cock into your wet hole in one quick thrust.

You gasp at the intense sensation of him splitting you open, not allowing you any time to adjust to his size. “Oh fuck, baby, your cunt is gripping me so hard I can barely move,” Joel moans breathlessly, rolling his hips to pump his cock inside of you again and again.

His pelvis puts delicious pressure on your swollen clit and you start to push against his thrusts to chase your high. Joel grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders, kissing and biting your calves until you scream. The new angle allows him to hit a spot deep inside you that has you quivering and shaking, bringing you closer to your orgasm with each powerful thrust of his hips.

“Oh fuck, Joel, you feel so fucking good,” you moan, throwing your head back and curling your toes. He grins, reaching around your legs to grab your soft tits with his hands. He massages them roughly, tweaking your nipples until you cry out in pain. “You’re so perfect for me,” Joel pants, mesmerized by the way your body moves under him, “my perfect little slut.”

Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him and you can’t hold back the needy moan that escapes your lips.

“Oh, the princess likes that, huh” Joel teases, “likes when I call her my little slut?” You furrow your brow and nod at him. “Mmm I like it, too,” he groans while continuing to snap his hips at an unrelenting pace, “always want you to be my slut. Mine.”

You can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the combination of Joel’s cock and possessiveness hitting all the right spots in your cunt and mind.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s choking the fuck outta me,” he chortles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You cry out from the overwhelming mix of sensations and Joel answers you by putting his hand around your neck, expertly shutting you up without cutting off your air supply.

“Stop being a brat if you can’t take the consequences, baby,” Joel murmurs, his face hovering above yours, an amused smile playing on his lips. You glare at him, but he quickly disarms you by leaning down and kissing you passionately. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back. Your skin is on fire and you have zero control left over your body. It’s all his.

He puts your left leg over his shoulder again, splitting you open even more. The volume of your desperate moans increases as Joel keeps fucking your pussy with abandon.

“Fuck, that the spot baby?” he pants. “Yeah,” you whimper, “please don’t stop.” “Look at me,” he grabs the side of your neck and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “tell me your mine.” He looks at you with wild eyes, sweat glistening on his skin.

“Yes, Joel, fuck I- I’m yours. Fuck, keep going,” you whine, the tension in your core so close to snapping. “I got you, baby. Let go for me, I wanna feel you,” Joel encourages you, chasing his own high deep inside you.

“Oooh, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you sob as your walls spasm and contract around his cock, shockwaves of pleasure gripping your whole body and blurring your vision. You’re convulsing in ecstasy, not knowing where your body ends and Joel’s begins.

In this moment right now, you’re one.

“F-Fuck!” Joel comes so hard his final thrust pushes your body up the bed. He spills himself deep inside you, your pulsing pussy milking every last drop of his cum. He collapses onto you with a strangled groan, panting heavily.

“Fuck, darlin’, you tryna kill me or something?” You giggle and start drawing shapes on his back with your fingers. Joel kisses your neck and hums contentedly, making sure his cock stays buried inside of you for as long as possible.

---

“Are you gonna be good from now on, hm?” He nudges your cheek with his nose. You turn to face him and look into his eyes.

“No, sir.”

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You press a soft kiss on his lips before turning around and getting up. You put your dress and heels back on and walk over to the bathroom.

“You don’t need to leave, you know,” you hear Joel say from behind you. You sigh and flick the light on.

“I can’t stay, Joel.” You look into the bathroom mirror and quickly comb through your hair with your fingers. Your makeup is smudged, but it’s dark out so you don’t care.

“We could order from that Indian place you like and watch Heat again. Besides, it’s getting late,” he murmurs, looking at you with his big puppy eyes.

You smile at him, but don’t answer. He nods and gets up from the bed to lead you to the front door.

“Okay, sweetheart. But text me when you get home, alright?”

“I will.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See you around, darlin’.”

---

next part || series masterlist ||Joel masterlist

#fwb!joel miller x f!reader #fwb!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us au #joel miller au #fanfic #tlou hbo #dark hair and sad eyes #pedro pascal characters #joel tlou #dom!joel miller #joel miller smut

1K notes · View notes

xo2dee · 4 months

Text

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❦ Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

❦ Warnings: None

❦ Word Count: 1858

❦ Summary: In which your lover comes home late again, and you decide to cook for him for once, even if your skills are severely lacking compared to his.

❦ A/N: this is so self-indulgent bc my ass really cant cook that well soooo

❦ twitter - ao3

8:23 P.M.

You sighed. He was late again.

You knew it wasn’t his fault though, more than often your boyfriend got winded into working overtime and stayed past the hours that he wanted to. Still, as much as he complained of it, you would’ve figured he would dismiss any and all thoughts of overtime if presented with the opportunity and make his way home to you at the time of his clock out. You couldn’t help but sigh wistfully at and for your lovable workaholic man; he only worked overtime because it was essentially wired into his blood and he would never leave unless he knew his job was done.

However, you were more slightly upset that he had called you at lunch time – you felt bad, you didn’t wake up early enough to give him a sweet kiss off for work – and told you he’d be home on time to make you both dinner. You didn’t want to eat without him at all, notably when you were partly worried he might have been hurt or something else (something worse, really), and with that anxiety you knew you couldn’t eat. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t cook, but you also never wanted to eat dinner without him. He was by far a better cook than you were, sure yours was… passable, but Kento’s was beyond expectations, and you looked forward to it every time he offered to make you food. Any and every time Kento made you a meal you fell deeper in love, especially when you found out he put more time and skill into it for you.

Your ears perked up from your lounging position on your couch when you could hear the tall-tale sign of the front door opening and the distant sound of his footsteps walking inside. You nearly rejoiced knowing he was home safe and coming around to greet you, while your stomach gurgled in its own way to hearing of his arrival. Finally, you two could eat and then snuggle into bed together.

Kento called out your name, and you sat up from your position to greet him, “You’re home.”

He removed his glasses and his blazer, draping the latter across the back of your recliner and his glasses on the coffee table, and took a seat next to you, “Did I wake you?”

You watched as he leant back resting his head on the back of the couch, arms spread out on the back and legs wide open, as your eyes lingered on his tie slightly loosened, “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Hmm, have you eaten?”

You stretched your legs out, feeling your appetite begin to kick in, “No, you know I don’t eat dinner without you.”

His head lolled to look at you pointedly, dark eyes in disapproval, “I told you to go ahead and eat if I work overtime,” he grounded out and you nearly had half a mind to not jump into his lap from his tired, rough voice.

“Well,” you began, crossing your arms in rebuttal, “I didn’t know you were gonna work overtime, you usually call…” you sent him a long side look slightly annoyed he hadn’t called to let you know he was fine and would be home later than his usual time. You began to wonder if he had eaten at all that day.

Kento sighed and closed his eyes, making you take note of the minor shades of purple underneath them, “I’m sorry, it was a situation where I had to take care of it quickly. Give me a few moments and I can make us both something.”

Instantly you felt awful; he was really going to sacrifice some of his resting time he rarely ever got to still make the both of you the dinner he promised instead of just calling for takeout delivery. You knew of his occupation as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, it had to come out once the two of you began a relationship and he realized he wouldn’t be able to hide it from you when he tended to work long hours and often came home with bruises or bleeding from scratches that weren't well enough for excuses. Kento came home more tired than anything half the time and managed to make you dinner without so much of a complaint, as long as you were fed, healthy, and taken care of it seemed nothing else really mattered to him. He really prioritized you over himself all the time, much to your chagrin.

For once you wanted to dote on him and make him feel good.

Wait –

Your lover moved suddenly and you realized he was getting up to go to the kitchen, so you pounced. Literally, you pounced onto him and threw your arms around his neck to try and drag him down, but it left you in an awkward position with your lower half still on the couch and your upper half dangling onto his shoulders. Kento, ever-so observant, had wrapped his own arms around underneath your chest at the sudden movement, clearly startled by the abrupt assault, whilst giving you an arched brow. He parted his lips to speak, but you beat him to punch.

“How about I make us both something for once?”

The look he sent you nearly made you want to cry.

He cleared his throat, “Are you… sure?” he asked, a slight degree of unease in his voice. You knew what he was thinking: You’re going to cook? By the look in his eyes, he was traumatized by your last attempt…

You huffed, a new feeling of confidence in your rushing in your veins and your body overwhelmed with determination, “Of course I’m sure, you’re tired and need to relax for once.” You could do just fine if you really put your mind to it. Especially for someone like Kento.

“Seeing you is relaxing enough.” He was trying to reassure you; you knew his gimmick. Try to make you believe he wasn’t exhausted at all and you would give in to his sweet words and he’d make you both dinner, then afterwards he’d shower and completely collapse into bed with you tucked up under his chin. You were not having it that time around.

Smirking at him, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, “Sweet talking me isn’t gonna work this time.”

Kento sighed, clearly defeated as he sat you both back onto the couch, “Okay.” God, why did he sound so deflated?

Regardless, you smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, untangling yourself from his hold, “Stay in here then,” you stood, his hands brushing against your ribs as you did so, and pointing at him with an index finger close enough to nearly brush his nose, “just relax and maybe nap, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” He didn’t look convinced – probably nervous you’d catch something on fire – but relaxed back nevertheless, giving you his own small smile.

Determined, you made way for your shared kitchen, snatching Kento’s fresh white apron as you did so. Sure, it looked goofy on you and the haphazard way you tied it, but Kento wore it exclusively every time he cooked so it was only right you did the same. You had your mind set to make something you both enjoyed – or you thought you both would enjoy. You knew your way around a kitchen, how bad could it turn out to be?

...Yikes

You decided not to answer that when you saw his face as he tasted your 'meal'. His eyebrows slightly rose towards his hairline and his mouth twitched nearly into a grimace, but it almost looked like he was swallowing cough medicine when he finally did get around to it. Kento sat his utensil down after and cleared his throat before clasping his hands together on the table, looking up to you while you hovered over him.

“It’s great.” Bless him, he never wanted to hurt your feelings... even if it was the trivial of things.

You whined and threw your head back, “You hate it.”

“I could never hate anything you do.”

“Don’t be sweet, I know it’s nasty and you’re just trying to make me feel better,” you pouted and stared down at your own plate, untouched as you had waited for him to try the food first. Still, you were curious and picked up your own utensil to try it out as you sat down at your spot at the table. Kento was watching you looking almost concerned as you finally lifted the food into your mouth for your taste buds to feel.

You chewed and swallowed. Bland, burnt and…

"..."

“...”

“Kento, this tastes like ass.”

A sigh fell out of him as he placed his chin onto his fist, “Maybe so, though I don’t think that really matters,” he gazed at you as you fiddled with his apron strings, a rather strong sense of adoration radiating off of him, “It’s the thought of you making food for me after a long day of work.”

“Even if it’s bad?”

“Even if it’s bad.”

Your cheeks warmed from the words as you gave him an embarrassed glance, knowing the entire situation felt incredibly domestic and you felt like a spouse cooking for their husband. It hadn’t been a topic discussed between you two yet, though it was always lingering in the background given how deep your relationship went and how long you two been together. No doubt you knew he was thinking the same.

You stood after that, wiping your hands onto his apron to avoid looking at his face, “Yeah, well, I guess I should clean these since this tastes like shit,” you moved to grab his plate, yet the tug from the front of the apron sent you into his lap as he leaned back to situate you both into a more comfortable position as he cradled you against his chest. He’s being awfully bold tonight. You snuck a peek at him almost shied away from his intense stare.

You rested your hands on his shoulders as he spoke, “You should wear my apron more often.”

Sending him a raised brow, you let out a small laugh, “How can I wear your apron more when I can’t cook?”

“Who said wearing it only while you cook?”

You smacked his chest and voiced your earlier thoughts, “You’re being awfully bold tonight.”

A small smile graced him as he lifted you more to press his mouth against your temple, kissing it a few times, “I can’t help with it with how you look wearing it.”

You sighed and smiled, shaking your head while you snuggled into him by rubbing your cheek against his to enjoy the moment of domesticity between you two. Though the moment was broken by the loud growl of your stomach. You sheepishly peered up at him as he gazed back to you with the affectionate look he always had.

“I’ll call for takeout, and then we clean this together.”

Your response was just to kiss him for his sweetness, and you kept the apron on for the remainder of the time.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kasien #source: animaterglittergraphics-n-more

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katiexpunk · 7 months

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Master List

Navigation

AO3 | Notifications | KoFi About Me

Hi, I'm Katie! I'm just a lil fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy.

- I'm a cancer sun, taurus moon, libra rising. - When I'm not writing, you'll find me teaching yoga, doing improv, or fostering kittens.

- I love to make new friends, so feel free to slide into my DMs and ask me anything, send in a request, or just say hi. About My Work/This Blog - I write for Pedro Pascal characters, but you'll find I mostly write for Joel because that's my man. While I will often thirst over Pedro here, I won't write RPF.

- My DM's are always open, and I love getting asks or requests. My blog is a safe space. - All of my work is character x fem!Reader. I try to be inclusive as possible in my work to make it immersive and welcoming, and I don't provide identifying descriptions such as eye, hair, or skin color. I also avoid non-inclusive terms such as "blushing." I'm not perfect. If you find my work to be non-inclusive in some way, please let me know! - You'll catch me dead before I use Y/N. - I love supporting people on this platform, especially newer blogs. I'm pretty vocal about the importance of reblogging and engaging with people here in a respectful way. I'm also more than happy to beta! - I do not consent to my work being fed to AI or used to make chat bots. ++++ Most Recent Fics:

+ Scarlet Haze - Part 1 + Fuck Me, Fill Me | Thoroughly Fucked, Thoroughly Filled

∞ smut | ⊙ fluff/slow burn | ❥ dark themes/check warnings | ☁ angst

Series:

Scarlet Haze - Ongoing ∞⊙❥☁ Pairing Joel Miller X fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 - Coming 5/12 | Part 3 - Coming 5/19 | Part 4 - Coming 5/26 | AO3 Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now, it's his turn to return the favor.

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Sex On Fire - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller x fem!reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3 Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.

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Fuck Me, Fill Me - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Series Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.

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Dream of Me - Complete ∞⊙❥ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Summary: In the dark of the night, temptation beckons. You make a silent vow to share your secret with Joel when he wakes tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself unable to resist this opportunity, much like the pulse between your thighs.

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28 Floors - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3 Series Summary: You're a good girl. A senator's daughter who is always there to show your support to your father. What he doesn't know is that his best friend, Joel Miller, is practically the only real reason you show up to events to support him. After one night of schmoozing, you and Joel end up in an elevator alone together. Joel Miller has 28 floors with you, and you bet he's gonna use them.

One Shots:

Desert Dust ∞⊙❥ Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader Joel's POV | AO3 Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller.

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Diner Girl ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

Crying Over Spilt Detergent ∞⊙☁ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You've had a no-good, really shitty, bad day. You decide to catch up on your growing laundry pile, only for your day to get worse as you make a giant mess of the detergent. Joel Miller helps you clean it up, and he cheers you up in the process.

++++

The Art of Noticing ∞☁ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it.

++++

Nightmare Before Christmas ∞❥ Pairing dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked. Most of the time. Tonight is not one of those times. This one is dead dove do not eat. Mind the warnings.

++++

Run the Table ∞☁ Pairing Joel & Tommy Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table.

++++

Tell Me A Secret ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're an artist. You aren't quick to share that fact, but Ellie is fast to figure it out. It’s not long before all of Jackson knows. Your favorite muse, though, is Joel Miller. He has no idea. Until he does. A morning horse ride turns into so much more.

Collaborations:

Little Mouse ∞❥☁ Pairing biker!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 In collaboration with the amazing @josephquinnswhore Summary: Date night. Your favorite. You were dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend was really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen?

++++

Sugar, Spice and Please Fuck Me Nice ∞⊙ Pairing Neighbor!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 In collaboration with my Slutty Smutty Sister @syd-djarin Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Summary: Part 3 of @syd-djarin's Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice series. Joel is your new hot neighbor and after a sexy night alone with him on Halloween (where he literally makes you squirt (!!) on his couch, you run into him after a long week at work and you two finally go on a proper date. You two eat burgers; go to a fair, and then he fucks you like it's his last day on earth. Yep :)

Drabbles:

The Kind of Love We Make ⊙ Hands, Hands, Hands ∞

One Shots:

Caller Number Nine ∞⊙ Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

++++

Heat Wave ∞☁⊙ Pairing Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

++++

Reporting For Duty ∞⊙ Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're a flight attendant. You need to be fucked, and that much becomes all the more obvious when a hot, flirty Air Marshal named Javier shows up to fly your leg with you. That's it. That's the fic.

Drabbles:

Edging ∞

Gas, Grass or ASS ∞❥ Pairing mechanic!Frankie Morales x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You muster the courage to leave your small town and shitty past behind. Fate, it seems, has other plans. Your beater of a truck breaks down in the middle of the highway, and you get it towed to Catfish Auto & Repair. After finding out you don't have the money to pay, you and Frankie find another way to work it out.

++++

The Invited ⊙ Pairing Lucien Flores x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: Lucien Flores is invited back into your life in a very unexpected way, at a very bad time – what are you going to do about it?

Last Update: May 6, 2024

#masterlist

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Move Over

Poe Dameron X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: You let Poe share your bed when he's too drunk to go back to his own room. He, however, can't seem to stop himself from taking up all the space humanly possible.

A/N: A little something for @campingwiththecharmings, I hope you're feeling better 💚

Warnings: sharing a bed, Feelings TM, fingering, oral (f receiving), sleepy sex, p in v sex, typos, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1980

________________________________

You shift in your small bed, trying to find a position that is vaguely comfortable. Though it seems more likely that the First Order will just give up and surrender tomorrow, with the way Poe is taking up all the space possible.

You shove him a little and grumble, too tired to be polite about it. It wasn’t even his bed anyway, or his room. And it was his own fault for getting so drunk on cheap Rorian rum.

One of the most exciting things about The Resistance using this moon as a new base was the preexisting structures that included personal rooms. Even though they were small, and you didn’t really mind sharing with others, it was nice to have your own space. Was nice.

Emphasis on the was.

Poe had basically collapsed in your room, far too out of it to make it back to his own after the celebration night at the cantina. You had kindly given up half of your tiny bed, the act of altruism aided by your soft spot for the pilot. (More than a soft spot if you were being honest.)

But that was hours ago, when you were more awake and the unspoken deal had been for half of your space. Not the current 95% Poe was laying all over.

You shove him again, wriggling quickly to take up the free area you managed to push him out of so you could lay comfortably.

Poe let’s out a soft moan of confusion, but doesn’t open his eyes.

You settle, satisfied with your well earned extra room. But it’s less than a minute before he’s shifting closer again, trying to encroach on your side.

That’s it.

“Poe.” You say harshly, pushing back on him.

You expect him to wake up groggily, or at least turn over onto his other side facing away from you.

Instead he mumbles something intelligible and flops his arm over your stomach and snuggles close. He presses his face to your neck, his soft breath hitting your skin.

Heat rises to your face. This definitely wasn’t what you’d intended.

“Poe.” You whisper, your previous annoyance burned up with embarrassment. You try to push on his arm, move it back over. But your movements only cause him to grumble and hold you tighter, curling his body into yours.

You breathe in deeply. At least you had some space, right?

Eventually you drift off to sleep again. And even though you didn’t want to admit it, there was something comforting about Poe’s warmth and tight hug.

But of course his close proximity made you dream of him.

It was hazy, and not quite tangible. Part of you was vaguely aware that you were dreaming, the edges were too soft, too liquid and not quite in focus.

Except it felt real.

There was an ache between your legs that was being teased by a constant pressure. You squirmed against it, trying to find some semblance of relief.

A faint sigh pulled you further from sleep. A quiet muffled whisper of your name murmured into your neck sent a sharp thrill of sensation down your spine.

“Poe?” Your voice was heavy, saturated with sleep as you shifted slightly, moving and- oh.

He moans softly against your skin as your hip brushes against his hard cock, his fingers digging into your ribs as he holds you close, silently begging you to repeat the motion.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled, obviously just fully waking himself. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to,” this time he shifts slightly, raising his legs and you gasp, unable to stop the sound from spilling out of your mouth. His thigh rubs against your centre, pressing your soaked through pyjama bottoms against you.

You grip hold of his shoulder, your other hand fisting the curls at the nape of his neck as you pull him against you, needing him closer.

His breath hitches. “Is that good?” He murmured, pressing his thigh against you again and rocking it back and forward slightly.

You bite your lip and nod desperately, your eyes screwed shut.

He watches you, enraptured for a second, before he slowly leans back to your neck and places a light kiss against your skin.

You whine at the caress, rubbing your aching clit back and forth against the strong muscle of his thigh.

Poe briefly mistakes the small sound as distress, all his senses on high alert. “I can stop, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, your voice breaking, sounding needy and pathetic and so, so wrecked. “Feels good, please, Poe, please, I-” you moan loudly, giving up any pretence of trying to hide your feelings as he latches back onto your neck, sucking hard, and grabs hold of your hips, fucking you against his leg.

“Poe,” you whine, dragging out his name. Not sure for a moment if this is real or if you’re still dreaming.

“Fuck baby, yes,” he growls, biting at your skin before licking a stripe up your neck. “Keep moaning my name like that, keep doing it.”

He kissed you sloppily, biting at your bottom lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth, as he moved. Before climbing on top of you and hooking his hands under your knees so that he could move your legs apart and settle between him.

He moaned as he pressed his cock against your clothed heat, echoing your cry of pleasure.

“Poe,” you whimpered between kisses, so desperate for every touch and caress.

“Wanted you for so long,” he kissed you hard, trailing his lips down your jaw and neck while he ran his hands over your breasts and waist. “Always imagined what you’d sound like, feel like, taste like.”

He kisses down your chest, biting softly at your breast through the material of your top and moaning when you gasp and buck up against him.

“Always want you to make that noise,” he groans as he keeps trailing his lips downwards, dragging his fingertips lower until he can slip them under the waistband of your trousers.

You yelp in surprise as he pulls them off in one fluid motion, partially lifting you off the mattress in the process. The cool night air hits your feverish skin, but you barely have a moment to shiver before he’s pulling your legs back open. His fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises in his hast, not that you care.

When his tongue touches your clit it feels like heaven. You gasp and moan loudly, crying out his name as he sucks. His own groan of pleasure vibrating through you.

He presses his left forearm against the inside of your thigh, spreading his hand out across your stomach and pinning you down as he devours you.

Instinctively you grind up against him as your claw at the bedsheets. He sucks at your nub, alternating between kitten licks and rolling circles, driving you completely mad as he purposefully ignores your aching centre. Poe growls low in his throat happily as you moan and writhe under him.

“Poe, please!” You never imagined it would be like this, never dared to hope that he would want to touch you like this, and now he had pushed all rational thinking completely out of your mind, filled you utterly to the brim with only thoughts of him.

He moans again, bucking against the mattress to give himself some slight relief. “You’re so wet,” he runs his nose through your folds, following it with broad licks of his tongue. He teases your entrance, just slipping inside for a smallest moment, and chuckling when you whine and try to thrust up against him.

“How long have you been this wet, hmm?” He nips at your thigh, bringing his right hand up to trace the outline of your pussy while he keeps you pressed against the bed with his left.

“You been walking around the base just desperate for me? Just needing me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, your skin burning with embarrassment as you admitted it.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, the dark seductive tone faltering at your confession. He buried his face into your thigh, sucking a love bite into your skin.

Poe presses two fingers into you easily, slowly sliding them in and out and moaning as he feels your walls contract around him.

Your back arches, toes curling as he gently readjusts the angle, searching for the spot to make you see stars.

“Poe,” you breathe, so overcome with the sensation of his thick fingers.

He reaches up with his left hand and grabs yours, squeezing tightly. “That’s it baby, that’s it, fuck,” he bites his lip, watching your face intently.

The ache in his dick is maddening, all consuming, he’s so hard he’s sure he could cum just from watching you.

“Always need you,” he mutters, unable to stop himself as he continues to fuck you deep with his fingers. “Always so desperate for you, just want you all the time, I-” He stops himself, stumbling over the words he wants to say, that every fibre of his being demands he says.

He can’t speak those words, can’t admit them when every day is just another chance for the universe to tear you apart.

“Poe,” you grab hold of him, pulling his lips to yours and kissing him deeply before you yank off your top and tug at his trousers. “I need you too.”

He groans and kisses you back, almost completely swallowing your words. But thankfully he gets the message and helps you to tug down his trousers to his knees before he leans forward and thrusts into you.

You both cry out, moaning loud enough to wake the whole base, still just for a moment to truly feel each other before Poe starts to move.

He rocks his hips against you, thrusting in and out with long lazy strokes as he bites his lip hard enough to bleed. His features pinched together in deep concentration as he tries so hard not to cum.

“I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna last long,” he moans as you clench around him, at how tightly you grip him and how your muscles tense as you arch up to meet his every movement.

“Me neither.” You pant, every nerve feels like it’s on fire, ignited by every touch.

He presses his forefinger against your clit, rubbing soft circles around the nerve and gasping when you twitch and clamp down on him.

“Poe,” you barely get the word out, pleasure twisting in your stomach and chest and drowning your lungs.

The slow rock is driving you insane, a gentle push and pull, give and take. It would be so much easier, so much simpler if it was hard and fast and meaningless and wasn’t… wasn’t…

“Baby,” he gasps, so close and needing more, needing you to overwhelm him, to-

You cry out as you cum, throwing your head back and squeezing him hard. He sobs as he follows, thrusting once more and stays deep as he cums inside.

The sound of both of your breathing fills the room as your heartbeats return to normal.

There’s the smallest fraction of a second where insecurity raises its ugly head, starts to whisper in your ear.

But it’s almost as if Poe can hear it too. He pushes himself up to look into your eyes before kissing you softly and holding you tight.

You chuckle as he nuzzles your cheek.

“I’ve still got my shirt on.” He mutters and you laugh.

He grins and snuggles into your neck for a moment before he fumbles with the blanket, mostly managing to pull it over you both. “I’ll clean us up in a second, I just wanna…” He yawns and you smile.

“Me too.” You kiss his cheek and hug him close. He sighs happily and holds you tight.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @thefamilybloodstone

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#poe dameron #star wars sequels #poe dameron x reader #x reader #poe dameron x you #x you #poe dameron x female reader #x female reader #poe dameron x f!reader #x f!reader #poe dameron x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

The Lethe

An Ichor Veil masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 7.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Greek mythology au, modern retelling. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Smut, M/M/F, loss of virginity. Praise kink. Breath play. Pain play. Feelings of fear, jealousy, and anxiety. Mention of abuse by reader's mother.

The next morning, you wake alone.

You lay alone too, dread swirling in the cosmos, a thick, uneasy tension swooping over the palace where you linger, the protracted creep of corroded hanging moss, a thick curtain of dying green.

Memory is sharp. It’s fickle. It has a hold on you, your mind, your body, and your legs shift restlessly in bed, thighs pressing together.

Cerberus snores on the rug in front of the fireplace, lean and lissome and stretched long.

They open their eyes as soon as your feet touch the floor, shaking off their stupor and trotting over to rest all three heads on top of your thigh.

Pet me.

How could you say no?

“I really have to use the bathroom.” You whisper after giving each ear a good scratch, stretching tall, bones and muscle all stringent, but not sore. Almost nothing feels tender, you realize, and when you inspect yourself in the bathroom mirror, there’s no evidence of last night.

No raw, punished skin.

No puncture wounds.

You’re relieved, the impending doom-like feeling that plagued you the moment you opened eyes lessens, and-

A small shard of disappointment settles in its place.

Did you desire to wear their mark? To have them on your skin, by choice?

Your back is an ugly crisscross of fine golden lines, all remnants of the Whip.

These, you did not choose. These, you do not wear proudly, or at all. You hide them. You’d rip them from your skin if you could. Pull them out from tip to tail, scratch yourself raw.

You’ve already tried.

Your fingers find the faintest remnant of last night, a small dip in your skin the circumference of a tooth. Everything comes flooding back, the sting of your palm against the John’s cheek, the indulgent dig of the cuffs in your wrists.

They stole you.

Do you care?

You expect to feel more unsettled. More enraged, but it only trickles through like a summer’s spring, barely bubbling up through cracks in the earth. You feel betrayed by their thievery of you, but something else lurks beneath the surface, something soft and beautiful, threatening to drag you in with it.

It’s dangerous here, but not in the way you were expecting.

Maybe it is the separation from the wildest part of your being that has cooled your temperament, somewhat.

Only somewhat.

After all, you did hit John in a fit of rage, did you not?

A loud knock rattles the door. Cerberus whines.

“My lady.” A Naiad stands on the threshold of the room, your room, you suppose, her black clothes, nearly white hair both ethereally sleek, hands clasped in front of her waist.

“Um…”

“Your presence has been requested, if you are…” she pauses, delicately, jaw tilting with a shadow, eyes narrowing into slits. “Awake.” She sweeps over you, performing an inspection for something from head to toe, and you find yourself studying her ears, their needle pointed tips accentuated by such symmetrical bone structure, she nearly looks like a cat.

She regards you like one too. Aloof. Holier than thou.

Bitchy.

“I am.”

“Wonderful.” But it doesn’t feel wonderful, the word overflowing with acid. Who is this female?

“I’m sorry, who…”

“I am Minthe, my lady.” Why is everyone calling you that? All the time? You frown.

“Like the plant?” Cerberus shifts at your side, rising on their haunches just so, and she glares at them.

“Yes, my lady. Like the… plant, as you say.” Her teeth shine into a smile, forced and uncomfortable.

Something is wrong here.

“Will you be joining us, or shall I inform them you deign to continue resting?” Us?

“No, I’m well rested, thank you.” She inclines her head, graceful movement elongating her already supple neck. You study her, cataloging her razor-sharp fingernails, polished heels, chin length bob. She seems like an assistant of sorts, heavy black book tucked under arm.

“Very well. I will wait for you here.”

“My Kings. The lady Persephone.” Gross. Minthe announces you, stepping to the side to allow you entrance from behind, the removal of her in your path revealing a large office, two dark stained wood desks with two very handsome gods seated behind them. Bookshelves blanket the walls, and in the middle of the room, a magic made map of the cosmos glows, gold and blue light dancing across the black marble floor. There’s a giant leather armchair in the corner, wide enough for two, and a soft blanket folded over the back. It’s cozy, homey, a welcome surprise.

Your body aches. Desire simmers in the bottom of the stomach, skin prickling with a shiver.

How is it two beings you hardly know are so capable of making you so crazy?

“Darling.” John croons, rising from his chair. There’s a sharp intake of breath to your side, barely audible, stifled. “How did ye sleep?” He’s close now, close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you were so bold.

A magnet draws you closer.

A collar. A leash.

Hades holding the end of it.

“Fine, thank you.”

“That will be all, thank you Minthe.” Simon dismisses her, still focused on you. She steps away in silence, and when the door clicks closed- John is on you.

He presses close, arm snug at the small of your back, forehead dipping down to rest gently against yours.

“Sweet Persephone.” He murmurs, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek. “Are ye well?”

“Yes.” You breathe. You welcome his touch, this affection, and it feeds a sapling, roots trying to take hold, trying to survive. To grow. To bloom.

His lips lay above your brow, long kiss freezing into a slow moment, and Simon watches with a satisfied smile, a loving glance exchanged between the two as John pulls away. “Have ye eaten?”

“No, she, Mint, brought me right here.” He holds a laugh at bay. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Minthe was once our consort, now she works as an assistant of sorts.” Simon says the slowly, and the room darkens, shadows building in the corners, flooding the cracks and crevices of the bookshelves.

Well, that explains just about everything, then.

“Your consort.”

“Aye. But ye dinnae have to worry, we’ve not been with her in quite some time. We’ve been waitin’ for-“

“Johnny.” Simon stands, moving into your space. It’s only his name, and still so much more is communicated within those two syllables.

Waiting for what?

“Would you like breakfast?” He’s smooth with the disruption, steering and redirecting the train of thought.

“We hoped ye would want to take breakfast in here, with us.” John explains softly, and you nod. A simple request.

“Sure.” You pause, considering. “Could I…” Would they still have them? Is it rude to ask? You’re not quite sure how it works. Is there a kitchen?

“You can have whatever you like, darling.” Simon encourages.

“Portokalopita?” Johnny chuckles, tugging you a little closer, mouth to your temple.

“Of course.”

The orange cakes arrive with a fragrant pot of coffee and some Greek yogurt, slivered almonds on the side. Your usual breakfast. You blink, suspicious for a half second before remembering-

“Why were you watching me?” Simon tenses. “I mean, it’s obvious, now, that meeting John outside of Hebe’s was not coincidental, was it?”

“It was not.” You tuck your feet up into the chair, shifting on your side with a steaming cup in your lap. “We have been… curious about you.” Your blood runs cold. The marks on your back begin to sting, a phantom pain you know does not exist, but still plagues you. Hurts you.

“Curious.” You croak. “Why?”

“We have heard stories. It is rare that we find ourselves so… fascinated by one who dwells in Olympus. John and I, we felt… a desire, to learn what we could.” John smiles, turning fully to face you, reaching for one of your hands.

You do not give it. You’re uneasy, like there’s a direness lurking in the darkness of the room, waiting to pounce. It’s an overwhelming inclination of trepidation, of misanthropy… much like the rivers spilling from this land.

“So, you spied on me.”

“We did.”

“And… you don’t see an issue with that?”

“I… understand how this may be unsettling to you.” Unsettling? More like a set up?

“I don’t…” You sip your coffee, trying to pick through a smattering of words. You must choose them carefully, you’ve come to realize, to get answers. “I don’t understand, why go to such great lengths? There are dozens of other goddesses, more beautiful, more composed, more worthy of your attention than… me.” You, Demeter’s daughter. Demeter’s failure. You, the goddess who rarely leaves her temple, the one who does not engage in socialite events or associate with the more powerful Golden ones in the city.

You, who talks to plants.

“I mean, look at Hebe, or Artemis, one of the Pleiades, they’re all-“

“No.” Simon cuts to the quick. “We do not care for other goddesses, sweet Persephone. We only care for you.” An undercurrent of power ripples, shuddering between the three of you. “Our affection, our care… is only true for you.”

“Me.” Because they do not know you. If they did, the affection would certainly wane. How long would it be, before Minthe was warming their bed once more?

“You, darling. It’s why we brought you here. To know you, as you are. Not as your mother intended, or how chatter portrays.” You look between them, slow eyes finding solemn faces, dogmatic in their assurance. “We had hope you might… enjoy our company, as we believed we would enjoy yours.” John shifts. It’s a fractured movement, barely perceived, but unsettled, and he cocks his head afterwards, gaze thick and focused on you.

“I told ye, we’d never hurt ye.”

“I know.” You whisper. You believe it now, to an extent. A pool of guilt tugs you into its current, an apology bubbling up over your tongue. “I’m sorry… about… striking you, last night. It was unbecoming of me.”

“I know ye are.” He soothes, and Simon interjects.

“The next time you feel an overwhelming urge like that, you tell us. We’ll take care of you.” His smile drips with a predatory gleam, and you’re suddenly inside a memory, the feeling of ichor sliding over your skin, spilling down around your fluttering rim, his finger pushing inside your body where you’ve never been touched by another. His mouth, covered in it. Golden lifeblood smeared across his lips, John’s cum spilling down your throat, molten earth, burning you anew.

What started it all? The idea that they locked your magic away? That they took you?

That they trapped you.

“I felt…” You tap over your heart, signifying the part of you that’s missing, and he nods in acknowledgement.

“I understand. It’s a difficult thing, we’ve asked of you, and you’ve done so well.” Your hands tremble, fighting the urge to preen like a raven beneath the praise.

It encourages you. Urges you to talk, spill secrets, let go of weights holding you at the bottom of the sea, where you cannot breathe.

“My- my mother. She used to do something similar. When she felt like I was out of control. When I became… too much. It’s a familiar feeling.” They exchange a long glance, and then John kneels, a hand on your knee, the other stroking deft circles into your thigh.

“Persephone. The scars,” Your eyes slam shut. “on yer back. They were made with a magical object. Did Demeter do that?” He demands, and you inch away, trying to create space, trying to escape this- this conversation, this vivisection.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You whisper. “Please.” His eyes are so blue. Like the Aegean, a venetian, crystalline color that deepens when he frowns, his emotions worn so plainly for both you and Simon to see. He’s distressed, like he wants to scoop you up, carry you away. They’re both staring at you with… pity. “Do not pity me.” You snarl, hackles rising.

“It is not pity you see, darling.” Simon shakes his head. “We do not pity you, or your strength. The story of your temple is known far and wide, even to those down here. It is sadness that we feel. With you.” The lump in the back of your throat is thick, too thick, and it threatens to derail your composure.

You push past everything else. The assurance you could come to them, when you felt like you were going to explode, detonate across the world, when everything turns white and you need your pain, your pleasure.

You’re only here for a day longer.

The rest of your breakfast is put aside, and you stand between the two with an open palm.

“Well, then. What’s on the agenda for my last day?”

There are many places in the Underworld that hold you captive, but Hecate’s piece of it, a forest of dew dropped trees with gnarled trunks and lavender flowers, vibrant mosses shuddering beneath your feet, a hollow thrumming with the wildest of magics, leaves you breathless. The goddess is just as striking, tall and elegant, deep black hair that swings at her hips, emerald eyes and pointed nose perfectly set in her face. Her skin glows, a sepia drenched harvest moon, and when she reaches for your hand, you swear you hear the barking of a dog.

“My lady.” She gives you a graceful squeeze before she releases and bows her head. “You are more lovely than the rumors credit.”

“Oh.” Your face heats. “Thank you.”

“The rumors say ye’re as fair as Aphrodite.” John teases, and your eyes go wide.

“Surely not.” You brush it off, but the tingle across your skin remains, flattery nestling in your heart. “Your home… is beautiful.” You try to give it back, deflect it upon her, and she watches you with knowing eyes.

“Thank you. It was born from me, as I’ve heard your temple was from you?”

“Yes.” She motions to a winding path that disappears into the thick of the trees, and you oblige, soaking in the sparkle of the wood. The magic is dense here, heavy, like water, flowing through all things, the roots, the leaves, the crows adorning the branches, following you from perch to perch. You don’t notice, when John and Simon start talking, asking Hecate a question about… something, too transfixed on the multitude of colors flourishing at the tops of the canopy, leaves and petals fanning out like a muted rainbow.

Again, you’re struck with a confusing consideration.

How is it the Underworld is capable of such life?

Hecate’s piece of this realm is alive, lush and untamed, resonant magic oozing from every spiral and cell in the moss, in the bark, in the air. Amethyst leaves ranging in size from head to hand fall from the sky like the changing of seasons, and the entire hollow breathes with it, power pulsing in a light breeze all around you.

Even the crows are thriving, living things. Part magic, part bird.

You frown.

“Persephone?” Simon questions, gentle hand on your back. It’s warm, and firm, pulling you into the touch, butterflies in your belly slowly cracking their eyes opening, greeting the day with a flutter of wings.

“Sorry, it’s just… the crows, they’re… alive?” Hecate laughs.

“Yes, they live. They’re my own murder, traveling as I do, between the Underworld and Olympus.” She holds out a hand and an iridescent, onyx feathered companion lands gracefully in her palm, preening. “There are many corvids here, now. Magpies, jays, treepies. They’re supposed to stay confined to the hollow, but I suspect some of them have made friends in Asphodel Meadows.”

“Now? Were they not here before?”

“No birds lived in the Underworld, before Hecate’s residency.”

“Hades allowed me a home,” she smiles at them, gentle appreciation aglow on her face, and then turns back to you. “a gift in itself, and so, I give them one in return.”

“You are more than generous.” John says. He walks close, hand lax at his side, fingers occasionally grazing yours. The touch is hardly a moment, fleeting, but it burns you through, muscle, soul, and bone shivering in response.

“Hades is benevolent, though they’d never let Olympus know it.” She murmurs, raven black hair catching in the wind.

“I’m starting to see that.”

“This is the Lethe.” Simon gestures to the rushing river before you. It’s not a river of hopelessness, like the Acheron, but something else. Something different.

It’s a river of loss.

“What… what is it?”

“The Lethe is the river of oblivion. She takes memories from souls, freeing them from past torments, or pleasures.” John is gentle, grasping your elbow, keeping you close at his side. You don’t resist, sinking into the warmth of his body, letting his steady comfort guide you away from where you stood at the edge, entranced by the low rumble of the water, the melodic call echoing from the rocks below.

“Or it serves as a punishment.” Simon warns at your back. The chorus rises, song reverberating, and you tip forward, away from John, straining to hear who it calls, the repeated exhalation of your own name.

“Persephone.” He warns, heavy magic blanketing the ground, cypress and white poplar drifting on the breeze, thick with the weight of his magic. “If the Lethe were to take you, there would be no returning to Olympus, or your memories. She is a power even we do not control.” She.

“She? What do you mean?”

“She was, is, a goddess in her own right.” Your eyes widen, the river hissing and crooning to you, desperate vibrato just on the cusp of her song, a sound sharper than a banshee’s wail. “Of all the rivers in the Underworld, she is the one to be feared. We can free a soul from the Acheron, or the Pyriphlegethon, we can forbid a crossing of the Styx, but we cannot return memories taken by the Lethe.” Simon draws you away, arm around your waist. “Come.”

John drags you back to the meadow.

He cradles you in his arms, opposite Simon, who sits silently, eyes half lidded, reclined on his elbows.

“Do ye like it here?”

“It’s beautiful.” You trace the fragile petals, white velvet smooth and soft, canary yellow pistils shimmering in the afternoon sun. “I love narcissus.” Simon’s mouth quirks to the side, turbulent sea settling after a storm when you look his way, and John tucks your back into his chest, heavy arm across your shoulders.

“The Underworld agrees with you. It is not every day the Narcissus sing for a soul.” His mouth is on your cheek. You press, pushing skin between teeth, and he obliges with a nibble, not enough to sting, but with enough pressure you feel the edge of his incisors, vicious points of his canines.

“It’s… not what I expected.” This is easy to concede. Easy to close your eyes and slip away in the web of them, their hold, their touch. Easy to pretend they didn’t steal you outright, they haven’t locked your magic away, they haven’t taken you from your only home.

“Would ye come back? To visit with us?” Your eyes are still closed, and you hold them there, fingers sliding through the lithe growth of grass, stroking across stems and petals, feeling for the pulse of their power, the magical force of nature existing the same in a tiny blade of greenery, as it does in every fiber of your goddess hood.

“Yes, I think I would.”

They lay you down in a crux of a hill, legs spread upon a bed of Narcissus, fragile blooms crushed beneath sacred weight, a cacophony of power joining together.

Your mouths meet, again and again, limbs and tongues and teeth joining together in a rapturous haze, a firestorm brewing inside you, a swell of power so strong you can feel it tearing at your skin, glorious and brazen, clawing at the cage. It is wild in your heart, in your mind, and only burning brighter as Simon tugs you close, a hand over your heart, his mouth on your breast, teeth grazing your nipple atop muslin, an insatiable god devouring at a mystical altar.

When he bites down, your legs fall wide, and John kneels in prayer.

There are many names for it, you know, but in this moment, it’s as if time is old, a god’s back bowed for you, his mouth on your cunt, sacrosanct promises running free like the rivers of this land, like the spring bubbling up from the depths of your temple, pulled from the land like John pulls pleasure from you.

Ichor runs. It paints you in gold, drips from Simon’s mouth and between your legs, mixing with the slick and spit swirled by Johnny’s tongue, the cusp of a cliff’s edge growing closer and closer-

But not close enough.

A gilded hand fits your throat, a collar made of divinity, and he squeezes, enough to make your vision spot, fingers digging into the dirt and roots and stems of flowers long crushed. John does not relent, only pushes you farther and farther against the edge, sanctifying the bond stitching between the three of you each breath you draw, the spool of Fate spinning long woven threads stretching to the end and beginning of time, knitting you into the patchwork of their lives, their eternal existence.

Their goddess.

Your Hades.

“Come, Persephone. Come for us.” Light explodes, forcing your eyes shut, and you tremble between them, crying out their names in near hysteria, celestial light bleeding from your skin like a star in the sky.

John gasps.

Simon tips his chin to the sky, and laughs.

Their room is quiet. Dark in the daylight, an empty burrow dug by a fox, pitch black emptiness as far as one can see.

“I’ve never…”

“We know.”

They hold you like treasure, like glass. Gentle words and touch, John cradles you in the cove of his body, magic zinging across your skin, sparks flying in the room.

Simon kisses the inside of your knee, arranging you carefully between John’s spread legs. He’s hard at your back, heavy cock throbbing hot on your skin, but he only grabs your hand to hold it when you reach for him, tucking you gently back into his cradle with his lips on your neck.

Is this what it feels like? Love?

“What do you want darling?”

“You. Both of you.” Simon, aglow in the flickering fire light, smiles at you and John, pride and glory, divinity still fresh between his teeth.

“Let us care you for tonight.”

You nod, and clothes vanish. John’s cock weeps in the cleft of your ass, his body trembling with effort to hold himself still, and you turn your face to his, letting him work his tongue into your mouth as Simon stretches you a finger, tiny explosions of pleasure imploding with each stroke.

Hands, teeth, tongue- a tangled mess of divinity.

Powerful gods, together mightier than Zeus, worshipping between your legs, glory abound in the sound of your moans. Simon gives you more, languid touch turning fevered, adding another finger to your soaked entrance, and you gasp, spine quivering in pleasure.

The gods kiss. Simon cups John’s cheek, holding him steady, exploring, deep and true. You can only watch, mouth ajar, taking in every lavish touch exchanged, Simon’s bicep flexing as he pumps John’s cock, a crease in his eyebrows when there’s a huff and moan.

“Darling.” Simon murmurs, thumb and forefinger holding your chin. John presses his lips to your neck again, nipping and sucking your skin, fingers ghosting over your belly and breasts. It makes you squirm, insatiable hunger rising in your throat, in your soul, and you yearn for them, for this, for it to culminate and flower.

Bloom.

“Please.”

“Ye dinnae need to ask.” John hums, delicately lifting one of your knees, exposing you like a spring blossom. “Look at ye, already desperate for him.” He strums through the wet mess between your legs, fingertips lifting to his mouth, lashes fluttering as he licks.

You want to correct him. Want to tell him it’s not only for Simon, but for him too. That everything is for both, a balance of scales, pain and pleasure and passion all revolving around the two of them, with you in orbit.

But your words fail, and John looks at you with eyes full of stars, endless night dotted in endless nova, like you’re the one being orbited, being loved, being worshipped on consecrated ground.

“You give us a great gift, little goddess.” Simon’s palm rests on your thigh, thick, swollen cock leaking against your skin. He’s big, bigger than you’re sure will be comfortable, a little bit of fear starting to pique as you shift, and he leans, an elbow near your shoulder, face above yours, level with John’s. Everything slows, Olympus stopped in its tracks, the Underworld holding its breath, and the three of you breathe, magic tugging and tearing at your souls, dragging you closer to the cusp of something unknown.

You can feel it.

“We’ll go slow.” He strokes your cheek. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much, yes?”

“Yes.” There’s a softness in him, intimidating edges all worn gentle, and his eyes are heavy, focused as he pushes into your body, fire and flood making your fingers dig into John’s thigh.

It burns.

It hurts.

It’s good.

The agony is decadence, sharp tinged pain morphing into fiery pleasure, burning in your soul and your veins. You moan, and John presses his thumb to your tongue, holding your jaw firm as Simon begins to move, carefully working you open with gentle strokes, gritted restraint clear in his jaw.

“F-fuck.” You hiss around the digit in your mouth, and they both watch, observing, waiting for a safe word or a warning sign.

Nothing comes.

Only pain.

Only pleasure.

“More.” You croak, and Simon noses your cheek, lips drawing a line up Johnny’s forearm as he strokes, hips swinging to meet yours, body trying to fold in half when he seats himself so deep you swear you can feel him in your belly. “Oh gods.” Your eyes roll back in your head.

You’re on fire. Burning in the pits of Tartarus, crammed between the gods of death, exalted through mounting pleasure and pain, twisted together in veneration.

Simon shoves deeper, up through your cunt to your throat, through your magic and out your mouth, insanity leaking from your lips like you drip around his cock. It’s obscene, the way he batters into his body, the lap of John’s tongue in your mouth, his finger against your clit, how you light up beneath them like a supernova.

“There it is.” Simon’s eyes glow, observing and inspecting, watching the way you take his cock, celestial light spilling from your pores. You cling to them, shiny like a pearl, iridescent and wild, groaning with each thrust.

They split you open, crack your very soul wide, broken cypress beneath an axe.

It’s an unrelenting pace, an lewd show of slick and tears and sweat- ichor that runs down your throat when John pinches your clit, inside of your cheek crunching between your molars like a meal.

“Ahh, please- please.” You’re rambling. Begging.

More. More. More.

“Sweet little thing.” Simon spits, cadence transforming into something slow, the subtle rock of a boat on the sea, nudged up against your cervix. “Perfect little pussy, made for your gods.” Plural. Like they’re both housed in one, experiencing together, breathing and fucking and biting, as one.

John pushes his nose under your jaw, iron grip lashed across your waist, holding you steady, keeping you in place over the reverberation in your chest of screams and moans, noises unlike a goddess and more like an animal, a tiger, a bird-

Simon slams into you. The pain is shocking, and you scramble, reaching for purchase, clinging to him, to John, explosion of stars illuminating your vision.

When he rains a hand down across your flank, your eyes roll back, slipping beneath the swell of pleasure and pain, a war raging between the two.

“Good girl-“ Simon grits, and you pulse around him, greedily, squeezing with another strike against your flesh, fingers dug into your hip. There’s a glimmer of darkness in the room, ebbing cruelty lingering in the corners, watching in wait, bidings its time, knowing it needs the right moment, the perfect crescendo in order to strike.

“Look a’ him.” John marvels. “Makin’ a mess of ye.” You blink up at them both, lashes webbed with tears. They’re beautiful, etched from marble, perfectly cast in the image of ultimate power, dark and decadent, decay and hope, sculpted together.

They will break you.

“Please-“ the plea breaks off in a gasp.

“We know, darling. We know.” John soothes, syrupy and smooth, a hand running over your ass with another whip of his fingers. He probes at your rim, lightly testing before pushing in, stretching, exploring, and you keen, curling around them, muscles burning red like hot coals. It sears. It nearly pushes you over the edge.

You want to fall with them, into them. You want them to take everything, to give you pain and pleasure until you’re not sure who or where you are, remake you in the image of these emotions, this wildness flowing between the three of you.

John pushes a second finger in beside his first, and you see stars. Three become one, bursting into light and bathing the room, touching over the bed and walls and gods, casting opalescence across their faces.

“Fuck!” you gasp, and Simon’s lips curve on your skin, voice low and rough when he speaks.

“Ours.” He vows, chokes, guttural. “Our goddess." He fucks you deep, relentlessly, firm hand gripping you flesh. "You can take it, show us your light.” He’s lost himself in you, and you in them, crying out as they throw you over the precipice. “Come, darling.” It takes no urging. You’re already there, praise and agony and explosions of nerves imploding, throwing you into an orgasm that has your legs locking in place around Simon, your fingers tangling in John’s hair.

You become light. Divine incarnate. Celestial dawn, touching the peaks of existence for the first time. It flows and flows from you, overpowers your senses, drowns you in a sea of exhalation.

Simon shouts something. His mouth finds yours, but you’re lost in the waves of your own pleasure, still holding tight to both, anchoring yourself through the erratic thrusts of Simon’s body, his hips jerking as he fills you with his own gift, a touch of divinity lodged where he ends and you begin, his hand wrapped around John’s cock and stroking until he’s spilling. Simon’s tongue on yours, on John’s, open mouths and wet faces bent together to make one, hallowed, consecrated temple, the planes of your bodies twisted together in the depths of the Underworld.

Your light shines and shines until you think your heart may give out.

Maybe it does. Maybe it bursts into stardust. Maybe it becomes theirs.

“Will ye have dinner with us? A last meal?” John presses a kiss to your shoulder, decadent and sweet. You’d forgotten about your need to leave, forgotten about Olympus, and the reality is somber. Still in their arms, and you already long for them, mourn them, dread the lugubrious return to your own realm, where your life awaits.

“The door.” You murmur, fingertips tracing over Simon’s chest, the hallowed ground where your head lays, where you listen to the steady thump of his heart. “Will you show me?”

“After dinner. Please.” John murmurs it into your skin, and though it’s a shattered promise waiting in the wings, there is nothing in you deciding to protest or say no, not when he tugs you free, rolling you onto your back so Simon can tuck you into his arms. “After dinner, we’ll show you.”

He spreads your legs, stroking a finger through the seam of your cunt, watching lazily with heavy lids as you whimper.

An offering he will give.

An offering you will receive.

“After dinner, then.”

You wake to an empty bed, much like this morning.

“John? Simon?” The sheets are soft against your skin, but there’s bitterness in the air, magic like death lingering in the room.

It feels like rot.

The door is ajar, barely. It allows light to spill in across black marble, the faint, sharpened pitch of an argument echoing down the hall.

You sit up.

What’s happening?

There’s a wine-red robe draped over the edge of the bed, and you don it, quickly, quietly slipping down the onyx halls, straining to listen.

“The Fates decided, and they chose benevolently. We are honored by such a gift.” The Fates decided what? There’s a strangled, indignant laugh. A female’s.

Power snaps, rough and wild.

“You cannot possibly mean to make this… this goddess of spring your Queen.” What? Acid brews in the pit of your stomach, swirling together and forcing you forward, desperation on the balls of your feet. Is that Minthe? Is she talking about you?

“Persephone is to be our wife; ye will speak of her with respect or not at all.” John snaps. You’re what?!

“We have waited, and would wait centuries more, to receive her. Her presence brings an eternal season, to us, to all who would love her, here in the Underworld.”

“But you do not truly care for her.” You tremble. A sea devours you, pulls you beyond the black water, down into the trenches, far deeper than anyone ever knew existed. There, it tosses you side to side, virulent rage and sorrow rising beneath your feet, pushing you back up to where you break the surface.

And break free.

The agony in your heart shatters the strongest magic, draws your own power back into yourself, twists it together to become something more, something wicked, something villainous.

Ungovernable Persephone.

“It is more than care. It is devotion, an all-consuming passion. One you would not understand.”

“But she’s a freak! A shut in li-“ Minthe’s words do not continue. They flail in her throat, the same way her soul does as you appear around the corner and twist it, making it malleable, ripping and tearing until it grows anew, sprouting with vigor into a new form.

The ground shakes. John shouts something at you, but you’re far past reason, far past explanation, and now there is only Demeter’s vengeful daughter, a wicked soul.

Rotten to the core.

Your magic swells. The palace trembles, and you feel the flow of life, Hecate’s grotto, the souls, Asphodel meadows. Every bloom and blossom cry out with you, and you scream your rage into a terrible power, one with thorns and vitriol. They surge together, and you draw from them like drinking from a river, pulling and pulling until you can no longer see, or hear, lost in the wind, the bliss of your wicked soul, your weaponized magic.

“Persephone.” A gentle voice calls, Hands cradle your face, a thumb smoothing your brow. “She cannot hurt you, Persephone. Stop this. Now.” A demand, sweeter than primrose and lily, drips like nectar against the will of your rage. “It’s alright. There is nothing to fear.” He murmurs, empyreal restraints tightening at your wrists, harnessing your power, redirecting it into the ether, commanding it still and steady.

When your vision clears, it’s horror you face.

Horror of your own doing.

You stumble away, clutching the robe to your chest, mouth agape.

On the floor between you and the Kings of the Underworld, is a small mint plant. It sprouts from a tiny clump of dirt, timid and frail.

It harbors a soul.

It harbors your wrath.

You are a monster.

“No, darling-“ John tries to reach for you, but Simon stops him, an arm out, catching him at the waist. There is sadness on one face, aloof calm on another.

Are these really the gods you gave yourself to? The ones you believed would care for you?

You are a fool.

You turn for the door and run.

You’re sprinting towards a river.

In the dark, you can’t be sure which it is. You’re not sure of anything, in these moments, these shattered clips that fracture your heart, the confusion that ricochets inside your brain, a silver pinball bouncing off walls with lights and noises exploding in the silence. Everything competes with the rush of a river, roaring swell crashing against rock, humming alive in the dead of night.

Their wife.

They brought you here to be their wife.

You laugh out loud to the cool, crisp air.

A fool.

Fate’s tool.

They weren’t interested in you. You aren’t special. You’re only a sanctimonious fortune from the The Moirai. Something promised. Something they feel you deserve.

Something you have no choice in, again.

But would you choose it?

Simon’s words ring in your ears.

“Persephone is to be our wife; you will speak of her with respect or not at all.”

“We have waited, and would wait centuries more,”

“It is more than care. It is devotion, an all-consuming passion. One you would not understand.”

The Fates.

The Fates decided.

The Fates decided to honor them… with a gift.

A gift.

You laugh again. It catches, hysterically, building and building into an explosion, a wild streak of pain taking root in your heart, and beneath your feet, Narcissus blooms. Even at a full sprint, the rage in your voice is palpable, and it breaks, cracking your chest wide with a sob.

They were never going to let you go.

They do not care for you. They only care for what has been bestowed to them. Their gift.

Not you. Not Persephone.

“Persephone!” A shout in the distance echoes over the valley, and only urges you faster, feet flying through a meadow. No flowers grace your shins, only grey grass, silvered in the moonlight.

Another voice calls to you.

The promise of oblivion. Of freedom. Memories laid to waste in her path, scars and agony and heartbreak all put to rest, buried beneath a mountain built of abeyance, weightless in the face of true nirvana.

Freedom.

Freedom from this truth, this betrayal. Freedom from your own stupidity, your foolishness washed away, soul wiped clean. Freedom, from the crack of your mother’s Whip, a magical object sculpted from the breadth of her power, built to hurt only you, for eternity.

You stand at the water’s edge. She’s too strong, and you cannot pull away, feet glued to the riverbank, fixed upon the rage of her waters, the power behind the swell.

Would it be so terrible?

You see Hebe. Melia. Nell. Their light, their laughter. The way their smiles sculpt their faces, how their power tastes when it infects the air. Your friends, forgotten.

But still she calls. She lashes her power to your own, strips of bark laid against your soul, binding you to her, tugging you closer and closer to the water.

You dig in your heels. The cacophony thunders, drowning everything else out, the scream of your name, the haunting in your heart.

You fight.

You fall.

Simon has never felt such terror.

Ichor turns cold in his chest, fear and panic rising into a tidal wave, an epic monster of emotion, filling his lungs with leaded salt water, choking out his last breath.

“Simon!” John shouts. He pushes his power into the river, cutting the current effectively in half, slowing its pace to a trickle. It will be enough, to find you.

It won’t be enough to save you.

Simon stands motionless. He cannot see anything, except the memory of your fall. Slipping into the river, disappearing beneath the water that will take your mind, your memories. The intricate pieces that make you, you.

He does not deny he had considered it. Allowed it to darken his mind, disrupt his intentions. He discussed it at length even. Argued with Johnny about bathing you in the water, bringing it in through a spring, disguising it as something it was not. Something safe.

“If she bathes in the Lethe, we will be all she has ever known, Johnny. She will no longer hold the pain, the torment from her mother’s hand, she will not carry the grief, the guilt of leaving Olympus behind. She will be ours. Wholly.”

“Ye’re talking about erasing who she is. The things that make her ours. Without them… what is she? An empty soul. A husk. Ye know what they’re like after they bathe in the Lethe. Ye cannae possibly want that for our wife.”

Johnny was right, of course. A million little pieces made up the goddess that you were, and Simon was a selfish being. He wanted every single one.

But now…

Johnny finds you in the bend of the river, limp and unmoving.

You’re almost gone. Simon knows it, can see it, can taste it. He can hear the realm, weeping for you. Your meadow, covered in Narcissus, each flower’s face wet with tears for you.

“Open yer eyes, Persephone.” John shakes you roughly, grip tight with panic, and then cradles your head to his chest like a babe, rocking back and forth. “Come on, little goddess. I’m here, we’re right here. We’ve got ye.” You’re silent. Near death, eyes and skin a thin membrane, everything washed away in the Lethe.

You’re gone. They’ve lost you.

Your heart slows. Your breathing stutters.

He’s been here before. He knows this feeling all too well. The frightening emptiness that even he, Hades, cannot combat.

“Simon.” John snaps. His hand hovers over your diaphragm, more magic, more power releasing into your body, filling you with all that he can give, all that you will take.

They’ve lost you. Before they even had a chance.

Too proud. Too arrogant. A monster on a throne.

He caused this.

“She is not gone, Simon. Help me.” John hisses, tenacious and hopeful. Strong. Simon’s compass in the dark. The brightest star in his sky. Forever buoyant.

Unstoppable John MacTavish.

Ungovernable Persephone.

And… him.

Your skin is cold, ice, and you’re so delicate in John’s arms, so broken, that Simon considers falling into the Lethe himself, just for a moment. “We need to get her inside.” John rocks you, cooing above your ear, trying to soothe the radiating distress, the rattle of your chest. “Sh-sh-shhh. Ye’re safe. We’ve got ye.”

Simon tugs all his power around you and Johnny like a jacket, a blanket tucked snug on your shoulders. It warms you, easing the shivering and jerking, and he holds it there, unleashing the untouched depths of his power, of Johnny’s, of this realm, forcing it into your soul the only way he knows how.

An idea blossoms in his heart. One born of midnight flower, bat orchid and hellebore, black dahlia and elderberry. Framed by the flowering vines that cover the outside of your chambers.

It’s an idea blooming from the very essence of your magic, your goddess-hood.

It’s reactionary. It’s wicked.

Rebirth.

Split your soul, and theirs, again. Merge their power, and yours.

Wed you.

“Johnny.” He whispers. He steps closer, hovering, a hand strong on the back of his neck, the other cupping your cheek.

“We shouldnae.” He shakes his head. “I cannae do it.”

“We must.”

“She will ne’er forgive us.” He cradles you tighter, almost defensively. You moan, the sound wretched and pained, and Johnny pales.

“The Lethe has taken her from us. She is fading, I know you can feel it.” Johnny slams his eyes shut, brow quivering. “Look at me.”

“Si.”

“This is our only option.” For every protest, he has an answer. For every reason why not, he provides an alternative. It snakes forward, through John’s rebuttal, through the time it takes for Simon to pull both him and you into his arms, on the banks of the Lethe in one moment, in the din of their bedroom another.

“She might remember, one day.” John lays you on their bed, the rasp of your lungs only increasing with each moment. “Her magic is strong.”

“Then we will beg for forgiveness and hope her vengeful spirit gentles.”

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