#if a sub side update happens for him...

[gifti3]

whitney and pc are scissoring in the courtyard again

[dilf-docs]

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (20s/50s), pwp, p. in v., oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, dacryphilia, pussy spanking, fingering, humiliation kink, dom!joel, sub!joel if u squint, soft!joel (look at that switch sandwhich fr), brat!reader (she's annoying and v mean, you've been warned), denial is a river so take this before the world mourns joel miller again

word count: 5,391 words

side note: new layout my citizens! will eventually update all of the blog but as for now, enjoy this one and the masterlist. quick thing, i just wanted to say that i had a very shitty week and for the life of me, can't find a way to make ttdik pt. 4 not oversaturated with angst bc i wish all men a very pleasant die or how to connect what i've written so far. note that this was kinda rushed; i feel confident of some parts and not the whole thing. just hoping it works for y'all! (based on this request)

Joel Miller isn't who he used to be before.

Life in Jackson has made him... soft. This version of him, tired of a life of killing and running, tainted with blood and regret. But he's now an uncle and a father. Well, used to be. Ever since Ellie had found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, he had somewhat become downright pathetic. Joel could be both Jackson's most useful man, even at his age, while also being their biggest wretch. Ah, yes: Joel Miller, the man who lived in the house down the street, alone and certainly worth the townsfolk's pity.

Maybe that's why you couldn't bother to be nice to him. In your eyes, a man like Joel just didn't deserve your time or respect.

But it wasn't personal, really. He happened to, unfortunately, be in charge of your patrol. That, in your eyes, made him your enemy: a person to be defied and picked apart. And the worst part is, in his current position, Joel just didn't have the energy to fight you back.

"You want me to cross that wearing this?" your protest comes in the form of a whiny pitch. "Ew, no. I'd rather be dead"

At least dead, you wouldn't be a bother. He rolls his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. The rest of the group watches the interaction in silence, expressions pretty much the same.

"I promise 'cha, princess. Ya' wouldn't want that"

The nickname should irk you, but you let it pass. It is no news to anyone that you are indeed a princess: Jackson's resident little spoiled brat.

Sheltered from early starts of civilization's downfall, maybe your parents had done more bad than good trying to protect you and settling early on in Jackson. You had grown to be a pampered bitch who made Joel's patience wear thin. Of course, to keep him busy and distracted, Tommy had assigned you to Joel. And while he'd rather not spend his days on a house too big for a person, he too wasn't exactly excited about having to deal with you on your patrol shifts.

(If you could call them that. You did anything but patroling)

You cross your arms, petty. "I'm not moving unless you carry me"

Maybe your need to defy him also came, partly, because of this: the way he's looking at you right now, a quiet rage simmering in those big round brown eyes that remind you of a kicked puppy, but when they burn, they seem like a forest fire, old remnants of the hunter that had been tamed by domestic life and a broken relationship resurfacing.

It excites you.

All your life, people seemed to bend to your will-- a force of nature: to your cruel harsh icy wind. You kept Jackson down at their knees, but it wasn't kindness, rather your shoe up their throats what put them to your feet.

Yet, Joel... he could be a loser to you, but he was probably the only one you'd met to be insane enough to defy you. The only man who didn't succumb to your fluttering eyelashes, pink lips and princess manners. No, he ignored the way you looked at him and your constant begging for attention, leaving the job to those men who seemed to follow your every step, ready to be themselves a carpet for you to step in. He'd roll his eyes and walk past you like you were the most bland, boring and uninteresting thing in the world: not worth a second of his attention. Joel simply wouldn't entertain your spoiled attitude past replying to a few snarky comments.

And that revolted and aroused you in equal parts.

It's not like you could escape your obligation, but perhaps, the bigger reason you chose to not skip patrol like you used to before his arrival, is to see Joel Miller's sinking ships for eyes try to wash over your rebel flame.

"Be free to stay then" he replies, but you don't miss the way his grip on his rifle turns white. "I ain't carryin' no one"

"I can carry you" one of the guys from your group offers.

(You can't remember his name)

"Sure" you chuckle, victory smile dancing on your lips at the sight of him looking above his shoulder in a barely stolen glance, thinking you won't notice.

But you do.

Joel Miller fucking hates you.

After five decades alive, he simply can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a spoiled little brat like you.

Joel's seen destruction, loss, hopelessness and blood up close, and the thought of you walking around like the world owes you a favor fills him with vitriol.

He's been alive for fifty-six years so he's simply just tired. Too tired to give a damn about your attitude, despite how you manage to press all his buttons every time you open your mouth.

He still remembers the first time he met you, how you laughed like people did before all civilization was destroyed. You walked with a confident strut, boots clicking against Jackson's streets, every step made with determination. Like you knew just where you were going.

He envied you, in a way. After Salt Lake City, he seemed to have lost his path, all in the name of love. Then, that warm feeling had turned cold and cruel like all things in this world ravaged by pain, and he felt even at more loss than the first time he experienced grief.

But you? You lived everyday with a dismissal so cold it seemed like nothing could hurt you.

He missed that part of him who just survived: hardened by the world around him.

But Jackson tamed him. Ellie made him soft.

And then you brought up that old dark part of him: the putrid black liquid that spewed through the cracks of his new character that made him loved by Jackson. The same one that made people fear one of Boston QZ's most brutal smugglers. It was that vicious anger, red on his vision like the ichor that would splatter on his clothes or cover his bruised knuckles.

He hated you for it.

But that was in the past, and Joel Miller simply didn't care.

Yet, you made him care. Outright forced him to.

In a way, it seemed like you enjoyed this: the banter of contained rage and practiced patience, dripping as a leak until it overflew. You'd shot your bratty remarks and petty complains until he'd turn around and see you. Then, you'd smile, like that's all you needed to feel better. Far superior. And he hated it. Knew your little game, and fed into it, even as he told himself he wouldn't. Like a drug: a destroying addiction.

Joel didn't understand why you took the time to enrage him, having even heard once when he was late for patrol (he overslept), how you talked bad about the, in your words, Lonely Pathetic Man From The House On The End Of The Road.

Joel Miller has been patient. God knows he has. But he isn't religious, and was never the type to let things pass by.

No. Joel Miller was born with impel, and no matter how many love he had to give, the world around him constantly reminded him of the power hidden behind the exertion over others, how alive he'd felt with the gift he'd been given by heaven.

He isn't patient. He isn't a fool. He isn't pathetic: and Joel Miller will take matters between his rugged hands.

Tommy had arched an eyebrow first, looking at just his and your name on the patrol schedule.

"What's going on?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"Found a cabin deep on the forest" curt, "I'ont need lot'a people to scavenge the place"

In the end, he agreed. Who didn't? You, obviously, the reason so many before him had gotten rid of their obligation of you. To flirt with you at the Tipsy Bison? Hell yeah. To have you in their patrol team? God, no.

"Where is everyone else?" you cross your arms above your chest, bracing yourself because of the weather. "Also, isn't this climate not patrol appropiate?"

Joel's not dumb, of course he knows that-- he can feel his aching joints shiver and bones creak because of the temperature. But he also knows he's sick of your shit.

"Ain't you little Ms. Know it all" he mocks, brushing past you, shoulders clashing with the same harsh force the icy breeze does to your face.

"And you're an asshole" you're quick to counter, "bringing us out here in the cold. If you wanted to kill me, you could've made it easier for both of us and done it way back in Jackson"

He rolls his eyes at your incessant bickering.

"Watch y'er mouth" is all he says, the brat hanging dangerously close to the tip of his tongue.

"I'd rather watch my step, thank you very much" you purse your plush pink lips, annoyed. "Have you seen the size of this roots? I will trip and break myself"

He chuckles at your hyperboles and the way you jump in a rather exaggerated manner, more in amusement than irritation.

"Don't think ya' can handle all'at?" Joel taunts. "Gon' break like a doll?"

Doll. It hangs in the air, like the snowflakes that fall into your hair and his eyebrows, the white fusing with his own.

"I'm strong" but it comes out weak.

"Don't seem like it" he's laughing at you again, a sharp annoyed edge to it. "With all that complainin' ya' do"

You huff, your incredulity condescing in the air.

"What's wrong with that?"

"With bein' annoyin'?" Joel quips.

"With voicing out my concerns"

He's walking ahead of you, yet you see his shoulders slump, like he does when he disagrees.

"Those ain't concerns, jus' moanin' and bitchin'"

It's still inside the fun banter you're carrying, harmless, but for some reason, it strikes you in the face.

"If you can't stand me so much, why don't you quit on me, like the others?"

You may seem cold, but there's that cut that always bleeds. Or it may be the need for something that blurs the line between you and those survivors out there who've outlived the worst a man can endure.

Like Joel.

You just can't help wanting it all.

Joel stops on his tracks at your words, response barely above a whisper:

"'Cause I ain't a quitter"

As if that could bring any sense into what had started the moment he layed eyes on you.

You finally reach your destiny in silence, the old cabin hanging by a thread.

"This looks like shit" you comment out loud.

Joel lets out a laugh, a deep rumbling sound coming out of his chest. For a reason, red dust makes it's way into your warm cheeks.

"No, doll. In this world, this ain't shit. It's decent"

You don't miss the way your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at the petname. He doesn't miss the way his tongue burns and his jeans squeeze at the sight of you: powerless.

God, Joel could go to hell for this. (But he'd probably be fine)

"Decent? You're one to talk" it spills out, your fear attacking the only way you know how when you're nervous.

Bite.

You hate feeling weak. You hate how your own game has turned on you.

It seems, Joel Miller isn't just a pathetic man but one who knows how to play.

(You knew this. But now, it's real, not the image you touch yourself to during nighttime, and it's equally both exciting and scary)

The red desire for hunger is there on his eyes. "What's that s'pposed to mean?"

You tilt your head, tone feigning innocence. "I think you know what I mean"

He paces around the room, like your floral scent is too suffocating and the cold isn't enough to shake the fire that burns inside him.

"Spit it" he dares, stopping midtrack. You remain silent, so he walks over to you, face so close, some spit lands in your face. "I said, spit it"

"I think you're pathetic, Joel Miller" yet, for some reason, your heart wavers. What were you even doing? Never had you doubted yourself once, sometimes even finding pleasure in the wicked cutthroat words you'd spew, but today, as his face stands dangerously close to you, his breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes roam over them and you count his wrinkles, it feels wrong.

"'S that what 'cha think, doll?" he chuckles, leaning forward. His lips barely brush against yours by mistake, yet it's enough to send shivers all over your body. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're da' real pathetic burden here. Fucken annoyin' and unuseful. All you know how ta' do is complain' and be a bitch"

"A bitch?" your voice is loud as your roar back, probably because it's coming into your face with the force of a train. But that's how truth feels, and it hurts like hell. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

He laughs, bitterly so, equally irritated as fascinated by how easy it's to see you crumble.

Joel made you out to be this unbreakable force, but at the end of the day, you're human, just like him.

"And y'called me pathetic, s' I guess we're even"

You look crazy: hair disheveled by the wind, chest going up and down and that same craze look on your eyes.

"Fuck you, Joel Miller" you seethe.

It's a simple comeback. No witty retort, no elaborated plot. Just four words, yet it's the way you said it, venomous, with such hostility, like his presence alone made you sick. Your skin crawl. Like the thought alone of being equals couldn't pass through your thick skull, and you had to get rid of just the concept; an ofense.

You pull back, realizing how truly close you were. You then march to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

With Joel, there's always a first when it comes to you.

(The first man to catch your attention. The first man to show lack of interest or amusement to your well-known tactics that worked every time. The first man to make your skin crawl like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like you would stare until your image would imprint on your brain, and you'd pick apart every small detail you don't like about you. That was Joel fucking Miller, rolling like thunder, ready to strike over your walls, like he knows where to hit to make you crumble, as if the façade you've built is as much in vain as the hate you carry even with the easy life that's been given to you)

He may be the first man to make you cry.

"Come here!" he shouts, roaring voice reverberating against the walls of the cabin. He swings the door of the bedroom open, finding your satisfied expression as you sit over the old worn out mattress, wiping your tears quickly with a harsh tug of your sweater, coat lying on the dirty floor.

"What?" you ask, as if you hadn't started the fight five seconds ago.

"Ya' think y' can shout and then leave like that?" he spits, "you fucken brat!"

A weird wild spark settles in the pit of your stomach.

"I can do whatever I want"

(The fire. It burns)

He scoffs at your childish response. "Not when y'er under my watch. Like it or not, y'r ma' damn responsability, kid"

Now it's your turn to sneer. "Don't call me that. I'm not a kid"

Of course you fucking weren't: he's got eyes. But goddamn, didn't you act like one all the time?

"Good" his voice adquires a weird tone to it, dropping. "Then strip"

It's like the air's been knocked out of your lungs.

You scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I know you ain't deaf" tone stern, "nor stupid. Are you?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" you raise your voice. Was he going to pull out every single insult from the book? Fair, you think, after you had told him to fuck off in the way you did.

(You were aware your words shoot to kill when you were mad. You had a lot of regrets about that)

"I asked 'cha if ya' were. If there's no answer, I s'ppose that's it"

"I'm not stupid" you counter.

"What?" he's asking you to say it again, like he hasn't heard you.

"You aren't deaf" you repeat his earlier words, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

The windows of the cabin rattle, the cold winter slipping inside the cracks. You shiver yet stand still, not wanting him to misinterpret your body language.

As if you'd ever surrender to him. As if.

"I'm sick of your bullshit" he seethes, "thinkin' ya' can make a clown outta me infront of everyone else, and then look at me like I'm sum piece of meat. Now it's your turn"

"My turn to what?" but this time, your voice wavers. You walk closer, eyelids fluttering.

His uneven breath condensces in the air with a shaky gelid exhale.

"Y'e don't know what you're gettin' into" he warns.

You smile at his barely contained temper. "I think I do"

Joel's body is completely surrounding yours in the bedroom. Before you register, he pulls you by your jaw with his hand.

"Still thinkin' that?" he mocks, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. "Answer me"

But he's pressing his finger on your tongue. You feel yourself starting to drool.

"Ya' really want 'tis, don't 'cha?" his eyes darken, "droolin' like a fucken cockstarved slut. Now strip" his grip tightens, "I won't ask again"

Your body shivers, but no longer because of the temperature drop. A treacherous jolt runs in between your legs at the very first instance of someone putting you in your place. It feels too good to backtrack, but the last remaining drops of sanity plead you to quit.

"Joel" you say his name like a prayer, and he thinks he'd like to see you beg. "I was fucking around-"

"Don't make me repeat myself"

You sit on the edge of the bed, getting rid of your clothes. It's like your mind has stopped working and your body belongs to someone else.

But you want this. Fuck, you had begged for this: sharpening your knife to make your words cut deeper with him until the bleeding was too big to ignore.

You wanted this. Craved it. Needed to satisfy whatever foreign feeling you'd now attribute to your rebellious and spoiled nature.

(You had never been denied anything, and even now, Joel knows this, but can't help and too give in)

"Not so loud now, are we?" he jests, "but 's worth the view, lettin' 'cha run your spoiled tongue off"

He hums with approval at the sight of your body, your pliant energy making his hard cock twitch in his pants.

"You like what you see, Joel?" you ask softly, despite your resistence.

He groans at that, calloused digits grazing the soft skin of your virgin collarbones.

"I do, princess" he answers, lifiting your chin up. "I'll show ya'"

He takes your hand into his bigger one, moving it right onto the spot between his legs.

"You've been bad, little spoiled brat" Joel's voice rasps as your thighs rub together. Y'er lucky I like that"

He pats your cheek. "Wanna make it up to me?" you eagerly nod, desperate for Joel's approval. You hate not having the upper hand, and a part of you thinks you'd get it back if you behave well. "Good girl. Now sit"

He sits next to you, patting his thick thighs. You salivate just at the thought, moving your body over his denim clad lap. "Right'ere"

"Look at 'cha" he parts your legs, a hoarse tks falling from his lips. Joel chuckles at the wet mess that's created. "So fucken wet and I ain't even touched yet"

You feel his rough digits ghost over your dripping cunt, just as his lips had done minutes ago. The teasing sets you on edge, thrill coarsing through your veins. Without warning, his big palm slaps against your cunt, and you feel yourself soaking your folds like you had never ever before.

"Fucken dirty whore. You ain't no princess, gettin' wet to 'tis" he mocks, "what would daddy say"

"Shut up" you sneer, but your body is full of hormones and treason.

"Not when I'm above 'cha, darlin'. Wouldn't wanna piss me off when I'm the one who decides if 'tis pretty pussy comes or not"

"What makes you think I'll take shit from you?" but it comes out as a whimper. Smack. A jolt runs straight from your pussy, stinging from the contact. "Didn't take it when we where in patrol, why should I do now?"

He laughs, darkly. It's haunting.

"'Cause you want 'tis. And I know you'll be a good girl for me to get it"

You feel yourself dizzy, head spinning as you land on the floor.

"Let's see if I get 'cha to shut up if that dirty bratty mouth of y'rs is stuffed full of ma' cock"

He pulls down his worn-out jeans, getting rid of his belt on a harsh pull. The clinking sound makes you rub your thighs together in a new found anticipation, instead of taking the time to run away from this, whatever the hell this is.

No. He's right.

You want this as much as he does.

(Isn't that the scariest part?)

"Ya' like what 'cha see, y/n?" he's smart to use your same words back, but it's the way he's said your name, like he was always meant to say it, or the angry throbb of his cock, what makes you drool at the red furious tip, dripping with rage and need.

"I think it's your dick who's more excited than me" you taunt, tracing the inner soft skin of his thick thighs. "Practically begging for me to lick it"

His adam's apple bobs.

"Tell me, Joel, when was the last time someone made this pretty big cock feel good?"

"Enough" his fingers grab your hair, pulling you harshly until he drags your mouth onto his cock. "I'm tired of y'er bullshit"

You aren't a stranger, he thinks, with the way you kiss his tip, tongue making a wet circle through the head of his cock. You take him into your mouth, pulling out in a second.

"W-what you do that for?" he asks, breathing rapidly. Strained voice.

You smirk.

"To watch you"

To watch how his eyes had closed as soon as your breath ghosted over his leaking cock, how he threw his head back and gripped the sheets viciously at just your shameless lazy circling. Joel Miller could be in charge, but God, wasn't he touch-starved?

(And for a reason, that was so fucking hot. And, in a way, adorable)

"J-just 'cause I'm-" he cuts himself off, probably out of need or out of embarrassment. "You're not in charge, so don't fuck around with your chances, slut. Imma show you y'r place real quick"

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing himself back into your mouth. Joel was punishing, with the way he's pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of his thick girth on your tongue. 

"Takin' it like a champ, princess. Usin' that mouth of y'rs for good" and then, with a softer tone he adds, "like ya're made for me"

You moan around him as he starts fucking into your mouth, pulling you off quickly, saliva slipping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. 

"Joel" you whine his name, legs pressing together in order to get any friction. 

"Now you beggin'? 'S gonna take more than jus' that, doll" he taunts, but there's a certain wicked softness to the way he traces your cheek as you scramble an attempt. "Try harder, princess"

"I'm sorry, Joel-"

He moves his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"Not Joel. Ya' call me sir when I fuck you"

A mewl escapes your lips.

"Sir" comes out like a faithless prayer, begging to be heard. "I'll do anything, sir, please, touch me"

"Al'ight, but still, it ain't 'nough"

Oh.

The hot tears in the corner of your eyes shouldn't arouse him this much, but the watery promise makes his cock twitch.

"I-I'll do anything, I swear" you beg, the salty tears stream down your cheeks in cascades. "It hurts, Jo-" you whine, "sir, please. Just fuck me goddamit!"

Your once poised voice, now reduced to a whimpering begging mess. Your red rimmed eyes, beginning to puff. It's the way a gloss seems to coat over them, making you look like a doe-eyed deer and not the brat who challenged his every decision and word.

Fuck, isn't he aroused.

"Lookin' so pretty when you cry" he smiles, but instead of wiping the tears, it's his tongue that licks them off your face. "You beggin' that bad to take my cock"

You nod, eagerly so.

"Please, Jo- Just, please. D-don't make me beg" your face feels hot and wet again, "I-I can't take it anymore. Just fucking give it to me!"

"Easy, baby. Can't understand a thing you sayin'" Joel teases. "Where your manners at, besides?"

"Please, sir" he gently pulls you up, humming in satisfaction.

"Goin' crazy over my cock, baby? Y'sure have a nerve to call one pathetic if you gon' act like this, you little brat"

But he is the one moaning when his lips cature your mouth with a fierce impulse, like he wants to devour you whole and swallow your vocals, as to never speak up again.

(But then, he wouldn't hear his name on your sweet albeit snotty voice, and that's a privilege he can't forbid himself from, no matter how annoying you can get sometimes)

"Please" you whisper one last time. He wipes a stray tear with his rough thumb. "I'm yours"

"See, baby? It ain't that hard to shut that mouth of y'rs"

He guides you to the old bed while renewing the kiss, tongues now engaged on a battle for dominance, like even without using your words you'd still need to assert your power over the other. You moan into his mouth when your body slams against the mattress and Joel lands on top, his weight sinking you in the old bed, that creaks.

"I just want to be a good girl for you" you whimper.

"You sure of that? Not gon' be a brat?" and despite his harsh tone that seems to humiliate you, his wandering fingers are gentle with each touch, like if he were to put any more force, you'd break. Joel thinks it's not necessary with you: just with you begging for his cock, he's broken you.

"No, sir" and then you whimper as his mouth dives to the collarbones you had taunted him with before. Joel takes his time, inhaling the musk and savoring the sweet of your skin. Needy whines leave your lips, and he's having the time of his life seeing you surrender so easily, like you had no idea what limits to push, where they'd take you and how you'd pay for that.

"C-Can I touch you?" you whisper, hands itching to tangle on his grey parted hair. He chuckles at the eagerness and tenderness you don't seem aware of.

"S' you can be sweet if ya' want to, huh?" he leaves a fluttering kiss to your chin. "Needy and desperate too. Do ya' want to touch, princess? Remember to use y'r words"

"Yes, sir. I-I want to touch you"

"Thought I disgusted you, hmm? I take you've learnt y'r lesson now?"

"Yes, I've learned. Please, sir, won't do it again" you plead.

"I'll allow ya' to touch, doll" he gives you a smirk, "but 'ts all you get for now"

He lets your hands cling to his coat, taking it off. Then, you proceed to his buttoned shirt, fingers flidding with buttons until you grown annoyed and desperate, pulling the fabric over his head with need.

"Look at 'cha" but there's only adoration, proven so when he starts to kiss the trail of soft skin that goes from your neck to your stomach, making you squirm. "Easy, baby. 'M gettin' down there"

He finally reaches your core, kissing the inner side of your thighs with wet and sloppy lips. His hot breath tingles over your clit, and a beat later, his mouth presses into your cunt, your back arching at the cold contact of his chapped lips against the humid hot of your folds.

You muffle a moan, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Ain't need to worry 'bout nothin', doll. Nobody can hear us" he grins, tongue flicking your clit. "Wanna listen to your pretty whimpers as I make 'cha feel good"

You cry out of pleasure, the sound escaping past your lips. Joel has a laugh.

"Good girl"

Joel rewards you with another series of minstrations on your bud, licks made with determination only the expert man knows of. He then slides one finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of your soaked trembling heat. 

"M-more" you beg, eager to get more fingers inside you. "Please, more, sir"

You buck your hips to try to get closer to him, meeting his thrusts.

Joel tuts, "What're you doin', spoiled brat? Did I tell ya' to move? You were doing such'a great job... guess I gotta punish you-"

"No!" you shout. "Do anything you want, but touch me, please- touch me!"

He introduces a second finger, raising his brow at the immediate way you clench around him. Joel curls them, robbing another moan out of you.

"Feels good?" you can't answer, as a hard thrust robs another moan from you. "But I'ont want 'cha to think we done, princess. Think I'd let you come, jus' like that? After all's happened?"

"Need you" you tug him closer with your arms holding onto his. "Joel, sir- please"

"Oh, princess" he smirks, "I think you don't know what you askin' for"

Joel grabs his hand around his length, coating the tip in your slicky juices, and then, he presses his length into you in one thrust.

"You're big-" you pant as he gives you time to adjust to his size. Joel then picks up an unrelenting pace that makes moans spill out of you like a fountain, the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

"N-need to-"

"Don't" he seethes. "Ya' won't 'till I tell ya' can"

All you could do is moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed. Your whole body shakes in an effort to contain as his hips loose their rhythm, his groans louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

"Al'ight. 'Cause you've been good" his cock drives through your walls with rhythmic melodies. "Cum, princess, but when ya' do, look at me"

You're seeing stars the moment your toes curl and his head falls to clash against your forehead.

(The beads of sweat roll down out of him like trails to follow, and his scarred rugged skin doesn't compare to your soft one, painted with the maroon of his bites and kissing at the skin of your collarbone. The dried up trails of tears. Your begging and desperate voice. His name on your lips)

It only takes a few more thrusts before he spills in you, cock twitching until every last drop of thick hot white cum is pumped into you.

Joel then pulls out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you, the mattress dipping even further. With his hand, he removes a stray strand of damp hair, putting it behind you ear with such tender kindness, your heart strings pull.

"In fact, I want ya' to look at me next time y'even think 'bout defying me. See if that mouth of y'ers can talk after 'tis"

A week later, you're back at patrolling.

"Anyone got anythin' to say?"

The group looks at you. You're about to open your mouth, but Joel cocks an eyebrow.

Just like that, and you're gone. Great job, y/n.

"Whatever" you sound meek as you push past him, yet he catches a glimpse of your warm cheeks. "Let's go"

The rest are too stunned to speak, the silence only cut off by Miller's laugh.

"Would 'cha look at that?" he whistles. "Ain't nobody tell ya' miracles don't happen anymore on this goddamn world!"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @chappellsroans

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Joel's pent up, you've got ideas.

author's note | just had the urge to do some free-use/cnc stuff with softer jackson!joel, huddled into my little writing cave and came up with this. also, happy birthday to the man who's brought me so many great friends within this fandom <3

content warning | 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: CNC, FREE-USE, brief aftercare, established relationship, jackson!joel, pre-arranged dynamics, dom/sub elements, mentions of safewords, facefucking & forcefucking, eating out from the back, none of this is good for joel's knees, a short game of chase, claiming kink, degradation, slapping (consensual), unprotected piv, creampies. this fic contains dark elements, if it is not your thing, continue on.

word count — 4.7k

It grows like weeds in your brain.

Joel is notoriously tightly wound and rigid. Only in the comfort of his own home do you see the softer side of him, still subdued and quiet—most of his words transferred through touches and silent facial expressions.

You’ve grown on him, opened him up in a way that most would never be able to.

You weren’t ever on his radar nor was he on yours—there was a sort of stigma around Joel, off-limits completely of his own volition, a natural recluse. You only ever really saw him with Ellie and Tommy, otherwise he was busy with patrol or a complete ghost.

It wasn’t until you’re paired up with him on patrol that something changes.

It wasn’t instantaneous either, but just as persistent with the thought in your brain as you stare at him now, leaned against the bar with a sour expression, you grew on him.

You were well-versed; starting fires, skinning animals, and knowing how to field strip your pistol with your eyes closed.

Joel witnessed it once and he’s not sure he’s ever been more entranced by something in his entire life, the genuine confusion on his face as you finally glance up at him was enough to kickstart the beginning of…whatever this was.

There weren't any explicit labels given—but if Joel wasn’t in your bed at night, you were always in his. Things were just that; happening, existing. You were settled with the fact that labels and titles weren’t of immediate concern in the grim apocalypse.

Joel’s hair is grown out and you feel the constant need to tuck it behind his ear, doing so as he eyes you carefully, jaw tight and set in place, hand gripping tight around the glass in his hand.

“I think you need an outlet,” your voice is quiet, starkly opposite of the room around you.

You’ve got your own language, communicating through silence that is cataloged through expressions and subtle emotion. He’s clearly had a bad day, a bad week, coming back to you reeking of decay and musk, traversing through rain and hoards of infected for weeks just to take out a few groups that wander too close to Jackson, riddled with cuts and bruises that you tried to convince yourself a kiss would heal it quicker.

“Let’s go,” you suggest, finger trailing down his bicep until you can pry the glass from his hands.

Joel is more than willing to be dragged away into silence, never the most chipper individual at the community events that his brother and wife insisted on holding for morale.

–

It’s strange how diplomatic the suggestion becomes, a conversation over a shared cup of coffee—Joel was running low and inherently stingy.

“That side isn’t a mystery to me,” you tell him, watching how he stares at you wearily over the cup, “I’ve seen you kill men with your bare hands. Granted, they deserved it.”

“So, you think me hurtin’ you is a better alternative?”

You sigh, shoulders shrugging. You reach forward and claw your fingers into the front of his shirt and tug, pulling him toward you slightly, face falling flat and serious.

“I’m not so easily broken, Miller,” you retort, “Besides, with this, we can set rules.”

“Rules?” 

Suddenly, he’s an echo. 

You nod—in all seriousness, you wanted him to understand.

“We’ll have a safe word, something non-verbal in case we can’t talk. There’s a mutual understanding, trust—”

“No, I know…I know how this works,” Joel interjects, “Jus’ didn’t suspect this was something you were willin’ to try is all.”

“I like your gentle side,” you assure him with a subtle smile, fingers trailing up his neck and through the stubble of his graying beard, curling around the back of his head and into his soft curls, “but I like it just as much as the rest of you.”

Joel’s silent, pensive as usual, his hand curling around the back of your neck to mimic your own touch, and he nods, “We can try it, f’it is somethin’ we both want.”

“I’m all in,” you grin wider, carefully prying the mug from his grip and placing it on the counter at your hip, “are you?”

“Game on, sweetheart,” He breathes against your mouth before he captures you in a slow kiss; the kind that makes your heart flutter with need, a floating feeling as it grows.

–

He doesn’t give you any warning, but you wanted it that way.

There had always been an understanding that Joel could have you whenever he pleased, the same extended to you—as long as it was when you were both alone.

Espresso is the word you both settle on, a vested interest in the situation.

It was the element of surprise that made it all the more enticing, both of you running on empty most days, and with the usual gentleness that Joel provides on a daily basis, you sense it as you meet his doorstep on this particular night.

He wasn’t back yet, still on his route back with Tommy. But, you knew he’d slip in at some point that night, making yourself at home with the small remnants of your presence throughout his space. 

Shoes at his front door, jacked laid over the back of his couch, the key to your house on his kitchen counter beside his owl mug, a miniscule amount of cold, brown liquid pooling at the bottom.

You leave the lights off, scouring through his cabinets for a clean cup to pour yourself a glass of water, fetching the pitcher from his fridge and vigilant to the gentle creaks of the house, heat expanding and making it snap.

It’s subtle, but something shifts.

You ignore it outright, knowing that Joel wasn’t due home yet.

You replace the pitcher and sip gingerly at the glass of water, obviously to the lingering shadow that seems to move with you, closing your eyes as your head tilts to the side, feeling a pop in your shoulder with the movement, too tense to relax.

It has been like this for the past few days.

Shitty sleeping arrangements, long nights on watch, it was hell on the body.

You hum, eyes closer as your head rolls around and forward. You slide the cup onto the surface of the counter and pull your bottom lip between your teeth and groan softly, allowing everything else to fade away before the pressure comes, sudden and unexpected.

It sends the water in your mouth out, through the hand that’s clamped tight over it.

There’s a soft yelp on your behalf and a grunt of acknowledgement, another strong hand wound tight at your wrist as they were maneuvered so easily behind your back. 

Someone was back early.

“You sure you still want this, sweetheart?”

It was the final moment of grace before you both succumbed to the deep desire of escapism. 

You nod, barely, but Joel feels the movement.

You snap into the subservience naturally.

You fight against his restraint, hearing the soft click of his tongue as he yanks against your movement, “Doors are locked,” his voice is like fire; so hot it burns, “ain’t nowhere for you to run.”

You make a small noise and force the struggle, both desperate to get out of his grip in an effort for the game to begin, but because it did hurt, though the discomfort was nice.

Your breath is uneven, heartbeat hammering in your chest as Joel’s grip tightens. 

His calloused fingers dig into the flesh of your wrists, pinning them behind your back with an ease that makes you shudder, full body.

He’s unrelenting, pressing your body flush against his, the broad plane of his chest a solid, immovable force. He’s always felt intimidating, but you’ve never been on the receiving end like this, caught and cornered.

His breath ghosts over your ear, warm and slow, a sharp contrast to the way he wrenches your hands higher up your spine, dead center on your back while your hips dig into the edge of the counter. 

A low grunt rumbles from his chest as you writhe, the feigned struggle met with nothing but amusement from him. Joel’s always been playful, though often reserved, this was the perfect way to squeeze it out of him.

“Tryin’ awful hard to get away, babygirl,” he muses, voice laced with darkness.

You bite your lip, twisting again, testing. He can feel it under the press of his palm, squeezing tighter against your cheeks. His opposite grip tightens further. A warning. A reminder.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Your breath catches again as he shifts, pressing you firm and flat against the counter, chest parallel with the surface. The coolness seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, a sharp contrast to the heat of him behind you, evident arousal against your ass.

 He leans in closer, his nose grazing the shell of your ear before he speaks again, “Say it,” he orders, voice just above a whisper, shirt bunched up in his hands where he has your hands held.

You swallow hard as he removes his palm for a brief moment, your fingers twitching uselessly in his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His chuckle is low, a rumble of satisfaction. “That’s right.”

His now free hand trails up your stomach, fingertips barely grazing over the fabric of your shirt before he hooks it beneath the hem and yanks it upward, manhandling you with the movement as he pulls it over your head and down your back.

You gasp, the sudden exposure sending a thrill racing through you.

Joel shifts, releasing your wrists only to catch them again a second later as he turns you to face him, this time capturing them at your stomach. He twists them together, holding them in one hand, the fabric of your shirt is ripped apart and knotted around your wrists, keeping you stuck but allowing him full mobility again.

“Color?” he asks, his tone softer, just for a moment.

You exhale shakily, the word coming easily. “Green.”

It was the first time in a few days you’re able to see him and he’s looking particularly wrecked, smelling like mulch and rain, but something so distinctly him.

His fingers tighten around your wrists as he hums in approval and tugs, “Good girl.”

The praise sinks into your skin, setting you alight in a way that has you pulling against him again, an involuntary reaction. 

His grip holds firm, an unspoken reminder of who’s in control.

Your pulse quickens, your body thrumming with anticipation as he steps back just enough to admire his work. Joel’s thumb strokes over the inside of your wrist, a fleeting moment of tenderness before his other hand grips your chin, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but you know that look—you’ve seen it before, felt it in the quiet moments when he lets himself want.

“You remember the word too?” he asks.

You nod, pulse roaring in your ears. “Espresso.”

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl.

–

The pout you form is instinctual, watching him examine you for a brief moment, admiring his work, the exquisite press of your tits where they’re trapped between your arms, wrists bound tight, the remnants of your sweats hanging low on your hips from the brief struggle.

He’s witnessed a lot of beauty in his life but nothing quite like you.

He takes a step forward which is met with you moving away, eyes wide with adrenaline and playful fear, so genuine that Joel believes it, like you’re finally seeing him for the monster he really is.

“Don’t run,” he warns, “it won’t end well for you.”

Eventually, your back hits the wall adjacent to the kitchen, beside his front door. It was locked and deadbolted—when the fuck had he managed that? You turn your head to glance but you’re met with his fingers gripping your chin, body closing in.

His hand curls around the expanse of your throat and squeezes.

The pressure is deliberate, a reminder of your helplessness as he forces you back against the wall, trapping you between the solid wood and the heat of his body. His other palm skims over your side, down your hip, a featherlight touch that has you sucking in a sharp breath.

“Breathe for me,” Joel murmurs, thumb tracing over the delicate skin just beneath your jaw.

 He watches you intently, eyes darkened from their normal caramel warmth to near black.

You exhale, slow and measured, eyes steady on him.

His hand drags lower, over your collarbone, down to your sternum, your stomach, before slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats. There’s no hesitation. His hand curls, firm and unforgiving over your cunt, fitted to the size of his girthy hand.

“You feel that?” he asks, his voice rough, and you nod jerkily, “That’s all me. You’re mine now.”

You whimper weakly as your lips part in a gasp, the claim stabbing something deep in your chest. 

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you, taking in the ragged breath you exhale.

“Still think you can run?” he taunts, smirking, his free hand gripping your hip, squeezing hard enough to make you wince—you’re silent, defiant.

You shift, testing his hold—there was nowhere to go, really.

His smirk deepens, wicked and wildly possessive. “Go on, sweetheart. Try.”

There’s a slight pause to your movements, unsure of what was to come.

Joel nods his head to the side, urging the chase.

Without a thought, you bolt.

His footsteps don’t follow, though.

Where he stays, he strips.

Boots first, then his jacket.

He’s slow, methodical in his movements and calculated.

There’s a few rooms upstairs to choose from—the bathroom was small, confined. Naturally, your instincts lead you toward his room, knowing that inevitably he would find you, but it wouldn’t hurt to play his game.

Joel so easily slipped into whatever role you needed—or that he craved; this side of him that craved you for nothing more than your body, an animalistic need that both of you felt. You enjoyed putting up the fight, the resistance you knew he could snap with a look or a word.

“Shouldn’t be here this late,” you hear his voice carry from downstairs, “sneaking into my house at this hour, no clue what you’re walking into,” heavy footsteps despite his lack of boots, one door opening and another closing, “well—that’s just stupid.”

You bend down to your knees and attempt to crawl toward his bed, hands gripping on the underside to pull yourself out of view, but you were already too late.

There’s a rasp to his voice that you’ve never heard before, the faint jingling of his belt before the door whips open and his hands are wrapped tight around your ankles, pulling with a hefty strength he’s acquired through years of survival.

“Caught you,” he growls, dragging you by your ankles against the faded turquoise rug, “hidin’ from me ain’t gonna do you much good, darlin’.” 

You let out a breathy laugh that borders on a whimper, his presence towering over you before you feel the weight of him settle, pressing your body firmly against the hardwood. You writhe beneath him, not to escape but to incite his need further. He’s kneeling over you now, the sight of him mouthwatering but vaguely frightening, nearly unrecognizable.

Your hips shift against him, and he responds with a hand pressing your wrists above your head, pinning you like prey. The other hand roams down, curling around the band of your sweats before he’s tugging them down and out of the way, the lack of panties not even the least bit surprising for him, shaking his head in amusement.

He knows you’ve been eager for his approach, waiting, but the sight of you now and completely bare underneath him as he tossed the last remnants of your clothes away was enough to quiet the buzzing in his brain, focused intently on the heavy breathing racking your chest, hands still tightly bound, lips parted in anticipation as you watched him, still struggling against his hold.

“You can’t untie me,” you barter, “I’ll be good.”

He chuckles darkly, “Nice try—stop talkin’,”

Your mouth snaps shut at the instructions, face going expressionless as Joel hoists you upright, hands pulling at your elbows until you’re on your feet and you’re pressing against the edge of his bed, the cool sheets kissing your back.

He’s not gentle or rough, rather more firm. He flicks at your chin until you get the silent instruction to lean your head back against the edge of the bed, waiting obediently on your knees for his next move.

“If I let you go–you gonna stay put?” He asks, your eyes too focused on the hand that goes for his zipper, fingers curling around the thick denim band of his jeans, mouth pooling with saliva that begs to drip off the tongue that’s resting against your bottom lip.

The slap is sharp, surprising, but not unwelcome.

There’s a silent moment when you lock eyes that Joel fears that might’ve been a bit too much, but then your bottom lip is pulling between your teeth and you’re nodding to his question finally.

“Good—quiet, I like that,” he tells you and you can feel your body vibrating with the anticipation as he shifts his jeans down, hand dipping inside of his boxers to wrap around his cock, settling the fabric underneath balls, tightly drawn from his straining cock, angered and pulsing with a thick drop of precum at the head, chin gravitating to pull you forward almost on instinct.

Joel scowls, though, pushing you back roughly.

“Look at you, squirmin’ around all helpless and cock hungry. I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ move, did I?”

Your eyes flutter with the harsh movement as you shake your head.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you coarsely, “tongue out—yeah….yeah, there you go,” he rubs the head of his cock over your wet tongue and forcefully feeds it into your mouth, slow and mindful until it nudges against the back of your throat, keeping himself in place as your eyes search for his face.

He smirks down at you, teeth gritting with the strain, watching you struggle to take more of him as you gag around his thick girth, tears pooling in your eyes. He’s got that familiar musk of a day's work, somehow more intoxicating than his normal, sweet scent from your shared body wash.

Joel knows it’s too much. He can feel it in the way your mouth is tightening around him, nostrils flaring to hold on for just a few seconds longer, but he doesn’t care—he wants to see you like this, needs it.

When he finally jerks his hips back and pulls out, a string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock, gurgling against the tip with your chin drenched in spit, drooling shamelessly down your neck as you gasp for a breath of air.

Joel groans through clenched teeth before he’s pushing himself back into your mouth, a low and constant moan rumbling from his chest as he fucks his way into your mouth, hand curled around the top of your skull, the other gripping tight into his sheets as he leveraged the surface for tighter thrusts.

It’s dizzying, bordering on too painful as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fu—fuck,” he stutters, his thrusts faltering, “filthy fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?”

Your response is a soft hum and the gentlest shake of your head you can manage.

Defiance, clear as day.

His hand grips into the hair at the base of your scalp and tugs, holding you tight as he suddenly pulls his hips back, “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he instructs with a raspy tone, hastily prying your mouth open with his fingers as he slides his cock over your tongue, his brow furrowed at he tugged at his cock with a harsh rhythm, white knuckling the way he’s gripped himself before he’s spilling his warm spend over your tongue, opaque liquid filling your mouth and spurting over your lips, his strangled groan caught in his throat as he comes.

“That’s right,” he seethes, his hand pressing under your chin to shut your mouth, cheeks squished together as he kneels to your level, eyes following his movements with measured anticipation, “greedy girl. Swallow it.”

At this angle it was painful, blinking rapidly as you swallowed, his hands unrelenting in their pressure until he’s satisfied, letting you go carelessly as you slump forward, bound hands pressing into the floor to catch yourself. His thumb presses against the skin of your cheek and smoothes the mess he’s left there, dragging his spit-slicked fingers over your jaw, a lazy smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, voice still rough with lust as he leans closer, “you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

You give him a lazy glare from beneath your lashes, dazed but still sharp enough to form a coherent thought, “You’re such an asshole,” Your voice is hoarse and barely audible through the evident strain of your throat, but you manage to get it out in spite of yourself.

A jab, empty with meaning, but it makes Joel smile.

“Well, I ain’t done with ‘ya,” Joel antagonizing, “think you can just make yourself at home when I’m gone, I think that deserves some punishment,”

The element of surprises is what does you in, a sudden tug forward.

There’s a tightness at your wrists as he finally reaches for the knot binding them together, rough and calloused hands skimming over your skin and sending pinpricks up your arms. The fabric loosens with his handiwork, blood rushing back into numb fingers as he bunches the makeshift binding into his hand and uses his freehand to grip your bicep, tugging you until you’re falling against the floor, gasping at the impact.

Joel seems to hesitate at that, his touch suddenly softer. You can’t see his face, but the reassurance you give him is instant.

“Green, green,” you rush out to ground him back in the present.

It does the trick, it seems.

You’re on your stomach and you can feel the press of denim at the back of your thighs as he corrals you in, arms dragging down to your elbows until he can push them up and around the leg of his bed, watching with wide eyes as he binds your wrists again, though looser, around the wood.

“Can’t have you runnin’ away before I get a taste,” Joel says from behind, hearing the faint ruffle of fabric before his shirt hits the bed, his hands curling around your hips to pull you up, ass propped up for him to feast.

And he does, hands squeezing into your cheeks as he spreads you open, moaning out lewdly as his tongue licks greedily between your folds. He works you open this way, laps of his tongue reaching inside of you as he groans against your wet heat. Your fingers dig into your palm, biting at the flesh as you suppress a shaky cry, feeling the curl of desperation low in your belly and already threatening to unravel.

It’s sickening how easily he can bring you to this point of pliancy, even when you were so eagerly trying to resists, “Please,” you cry, “I can’t—please,”

“Say it,” he encourages once, reminding you that there was always control, but without the indication, he wasn’t going to let up.

You shake your head in defiance, “Fuck you,” you spit.

It doesn’t take long, either. 

Joel chuckles because he knows you well enough to read the rhythm of your breathing, the shallow way your stomach shudders when you’re getting close. You feel every inch of him, skin and warmth and breath until it’s building and—

“Fuck!” A choked off cry as your head falls forward, body vibrating against the wood.

“Oh I know you got more than that in ya,” he taunts from between your thighs, the heat of his words sending another shock through you, more ruffling of fabric before his cock is heavy against the back of your thigh, hands kneading into supple flesh as he rubs the head through your folds before spearing inside of you with one sharp movement, and he sighs, “there she is.”

You let out a weak gasp, your body stretching around the thickness of him, searing heat and pressure making your mind go deliciously blank. You can barely catch your breath; he knocks it out of you with every forceful thrust, drowns you in the sound of skin slapping against skin.

The filthy wet noises that fill the space between gasping moans.

It’s relentless, primal. 

He's everywhere, all at once, until there's nothing left but—

Joel. Joel. Joel.

“You’d let me do damn near anything to ‘ya,” he taunts, “helpless little girl without me, ain’t that right? Go on, tell me to stop.”

You whimper as his hand strikes your ass, demanding an answer.

He practically growls with insatiable hunger, the sound rumbling from his chest as he thrusts into you without restraint, “Speak when you’re spoken, too,” he bites, “open that fuckin’ mouth.”

“No—no," you sob, barely coherent.

“See?” he grunts as his hand slides around you to grip the base of your throat, tilting your head up and holding you against him while his cock hits devastating inside of you, silently undoing the bindings as he pulls you back against his chest, “Knew you could do it.”

It’s too much, the striking, brutal pleasure threatening to suffocate you. 

You feel so immeasurably full of him and still—he’s not letting up.

Joel’s breath is ragged in your ear, sweat-slicked chest against your back. He presses against that spot inside of you with his cock and your vision goes white-hot. The sound that rips out of you is undeniable, pure pleasure.

“Shit,” he curses, “this all you needed? Huh? Me fuckin’ you like I own you?”

His fingers are still around your neck, tightening, and you can only sob in agreement as everything unwinds inside of you. His grip drives you against him, faster, harder, each push a little more desperate as he chases you into the crest of your second orgasm with his fingers drifting over your clit, the touch enough to end you on the spot.

“Gonna make me come again,” he warns roughly, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

Your whole body clenches around him at the promise and he lets out a weak grunt.

“Fuck,” he snarls, “come on, babygirl—do it. Do it for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but comply.

The pleasure explodes in your core as his thumb works like magic against you. He feels impossibly deep, and you cry out one last time as everything snaps and sends you over the edge.

Inside of you, Joel lets out a vicious growl as your body milks him for all he has to offer, his hips driving into you with punishing force while he spills hot into your cunt.

Eventually, his pace slows.

His grip on your throat gentles and he pulls out before collapsing next to you, breathless and heaving. He doesn't even bother making it to the bad, arm tucking under his head as you slump against his chest.

“Goddamn,” Joel mutters, the facade fading immediately, heaving through ragged gasps, dragging you into him, “c’mere, baby.”

Your smile is obvious, giddy—Joel can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“I think you enjoyed that a little too much,” Joel tells you, “s’good—we okay?”

“Peachy,” you reply without hesitation, taking note of his insistent touch, much gentler than a few minutes ago, “are you okay?”

“A little worried,” he admits, “didn’t know if I was bein’ too rough with you.”

“I would have told you,” you tell him honestly, pressing a kiss to his stomach from where you rest, before you playfully add, “and if we’re being honest—next time, don’t go so easy on me."

The look Joel gives you is hot—red hot; like a fire.

Joel nods dutifully, beckoning you upwards, “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you but me,” he promises, drawing your face up to his, “and I’m gonna make damn sure you won’t ever want ‘em to.”

As if there was anyone comparable to Joel.

Your soft grin told him all he needed to know.

There wasn’t.

[greengoblinswifey]

The Deal

pairing— nerd!luigi x popular!bitchy!reader

summary— Luigi was the nerd who always had his eyes on you, the popular girl who was way out of his league. You made a habit of teasing him for it and he never knew he could have a chance with him until you made a deal. If he got you an A on your assignment, you'd let him take you on a date. Based on this request.

warnings— praise kink, oral(m,f), fingering, praise kink, slight sub!luigi, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— Luigi’s website for updates!

Luigi had always stared, it was impossible not to notice those piercing eyes lingering on you in lectures, even in the library. He was subtle about it, but you knew. He wasn’t like the frat guys or the football players you used to date, and he knew that too. No matter how deep his crush ran, he never thought he’d stand a chance.

So, you gave him one, for fun. It started small, teasing him whenever you caught him looking. A slow smirk, a roll of your eyes. Then it escalated, leaning in close just to watch him stammer, calling on him just to hear him scramble for an answer. Your little entourage found it hilarious. But the best part? Making him do your assignments.

“I could help you study instead,” he had suggested once, trying so hard to sound confident.

“Why the fuck would I study when I have you?”

And like everyone else in this school, he fell to his knees for you. No questions asked.

The last assignment had been brutal, and you’d made him an offer just to amuse yourself. “If I get above a 90, I’ll let you take me on a date,” you had smirked, watching his face light up like you’d just handed him the moon. Cute.

And, well, he was. Not just in the typical nerdy way, but genuinely. Dark curls, sharp jaw, broad shoulders that you knew hid something impressive under those hoodies.

All week, you kept up the act, teasing him relentlessly. Your friends joined in, laughing, asking if he really thought he stood a chance. He never had an answer. Maybe he didn’t believe it himself.

Then the grade came back. 98%.

You were shocked—actually shocked. You turned to him, eyes wide, before practically throwing yourself into his lap, squealing. “Oh my God, Lulu! You’re a genius!” Your lips pressed to his cheek in an impulsive kiss, even using the nickname you had given him and when you pulled back, his face was bright red, completely frozen.

You got up, laughing in his face.

“S-so, does this mean I get to take you on that date?” he stuttered.

You paused, tilting your head, really looking at him. You’d been so busy playing with him that you hadn’t noticed just how attractive he really was.

“Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself. “You can.”

And the way his breath hitched? Worth every second.

A couple days later, he was at your door to pick you up, but honestly? He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

You, the popular girl everyone wanted , the one who always had something snarky to say—had actually agreed to go out with him. And now, you stood in front of him, looking so effortlessly gorgeous that it made his chest feel tight.

“Still staring, Lulu?” you teased, stepping outside, the smirk on your lips and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue making his head spin.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he opened the car door for you. “Guess I can’t help myself.”

You slid in, watching him as he walked around to the driver’s side. Even when you weren’t messing with him, there was something about you that made him feel unsteady in a way he liked more than he wanted to admit.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you joked.

He shot you a glance, shifting into drive. “What, you thought I’d back out?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy chickened out around me,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I’m not like them,” he scoffed.

You grinned. “No, you’re not.”

And for the first time all night, you were the one staring.

Luigi was a proper gentleman all night. From the moment he picked you up, he was attentive, opening doors, pulling out your chair, complimenting you like you were the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, as his gaze lingered on you from across the table.

And for the first time, you actually talked. Really talked. It took effort on his part, his usual nervousness was there, but he pushed through, and you realized just how intelligent he was. Thoughtful, passionate, with so much more to offer than just the schoolwork you made him do.

Meanwhile, the wine had left a pleasant buzz in your veins, making everything a little hazier, a little bolder. And Luigi, he looked good, really good. That sharp jaw, the way his tie hung slightly loose now, how his dark curls made him so much more attractive, when he leaned forward, elbows on the table, talking about something that made his eyes light up.

By the time he drove you home, you could feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with something else entirely. He had given you his jacket, paid the bill without hesitation, and now, on the drive back, he was rambling.

“I had such a great time tonight,” he said, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Thank you f-for actually going out with me. I mean, I know you could’ve bailed, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but you didn’t, and—God, you are just—stunning. Like, I still can’t believe—”

You cut him off mid sentence, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. He gasped into it, shocked, but you could feel how quickly he melted, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

By the time you pulled back, he was breathless.

“Are you d-drunk?” he stammered, eyes darting across your face.

“Why? Was that a sloppy, drunk kiss?” you smirked.

“No—God, no, it was amazing, but—” His face was burning. “Why would you ever kiss me?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his tie and tugging him toward the door. “Because I want you.”

You barely heard his shaky inhale before you pulled him inside, locking the door behind you.

Then, his lips were on yours again, this time, with more desperation, more hunger. His hands hovered, uncertain, but you could feel the way he shivered when you tangled your fingers in his curls.

And when he let out the softest, most helpless whimper? It made your pussy clench around nothing.

Luigi’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, shedding your dress only leaving you in lingerie, his wide eyes raking over your figure. He had always thought you were stunning, but this left him speechless.

“You— you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, almost in awe, his hands hesitating before resting on your waist.

You smirked, amused by his reaction. “Cat got your tongue, handsome?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, I just, I never thought I’d ever—” He cut himself off, choosing instead to trail his fingers over your skin.

His admiration sent a rush straight to your pussy and when he finally gathered himself enough to kneel, shift your underwear, kiss your clit and murmur soft praises against you, you felt something shift. It wasn’t just the usual teasing, the push and pull you were so used to, it was something more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered as he ravished your pussy. “So beautiful, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, pulling him into your pussy, his nose nudging your pelvis.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathless, fingers circling your leaking hole.

You nodded frantically, bucking your hips, needing more.

His tongue lapped at your juices and he slipped a finger inside you, curling, like he was trying to memorize your walls. No one had ever been so focused on your pleasure.

“Fuck, Lu, you’re so good at this,” you moaned, hands gripping his hair.

Your praises willed him on and he hooked a hand under you, tilting your body upwards as his lips engulfed your clit and his finger thrusted inside you.

“Just like that, I’m about to—” Your words were cut off by your own scream and an intense orgasm washing over you. Luigi carried you through it, slurping up your juices as your entire body convulsed.

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he panted, finally sitting up, lips glistening.

You smirked, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him on top of you. His cock was practically bulging out of his pants and you flipped him over, undoing his belt and pulling down his bottoms.

As his cock sprang free, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left your lips. Luigi was huge.

Now, it was your time to stutter. “Y-you’re so big.”

He was thick, long, veiny and hard. It almost looked painful. Hesitantly, you took ahold of him, your hand barely able to go around it.

“Really?” he asked, shooting you a curious glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s the least of my worries. Fuck, I want it to hurt,” you said, practically drooling as you stared down at his cock.

His breathing grew heavier, body practically shaking as you held his cock in your hand. But then, you let go of him, a smirk playing on your lips as you trailed your fingers down his chest after you ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying everywhere, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He was already breathless, watching you with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the sheets like he was bracing himself.

“You’re so easy to tease,” you murmured, tilting your head as you let your fingers ghost over his abs. He was built like a Greek God. “So worked up already, huh?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You, you’re just—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when you licked his shaft, the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

His reaction only made you want to push him further. You placed a lingering kiss to his tip, feeling the way his cock twitched beneath you. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already falling apart,” you teased.

A whimper slipped past his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting the sheets even tighter as your lips wrapped around his tip. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

That sent a thrill through you. The way he was unraveling so easily, the way his breath hitched with every tiny movement, it boosted your ego.

When you finally took him down your throat, all the tension built up in him melted into a broken moan. His fingers trembled as they reached for you, barely managing to grip your shoulder as if he needed to ground himself.

“Feels so good,” he breathed, his voice laced with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re—God, you’re amazing.”

His praise came in soft, desperate gasps, each one more raw than the last, and it only spurred you on. Every shaky breath, every whispered compliment, every helpless sound he made, it was enough to keep you bobbing your head steadily.

The way your tongue swirled as you took him into your throat, the way his pre cum and your salvia dripped down your chin, the way your eyes watered and the way your mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size had him whimpering so loudly.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he managed to croak out, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You hummed around his cock, bobbing your head and massaging his balls as he bucked his hips, his entire body trembling. Your lips wrapped around the tip, suckling as you stroked his shaft and his hot load shot down your throat.

“Fuck. Thank you, thank you so much,” he moaned, toes curling as ropes of his cum coated your tongue.

You seductively shed yourself of your lingerie, your body bare as you climbed on top of him. He stared at you like you were a masterpiece, breathing heavy and his cock still hard. You took ahold of him, dragging the tip along your folds.

“You’re always such a tease,” he whined.

A primal sound left his lips as you sank down onto his cock, your nails digging into his chest. The air was knocked out of your lungs as took every inch.

“You feel so good. Oh my God,” he whimpered, hands resting on your hips.

After you finally adjusted to his size though it still felt like you were being ripped apart, you lifted yourself up and began bouncing on his cock. Your hands were flat on his pecs, your ass slamming down on him as you rode him like your life depended on it.

His whimpers went straight to your pussy, the sound like music to your ears as you circled your hips and moved back and forth. Every movement felt like he was brushing against your cervix.

His eyes averted between your tits and your wet pussy gripping his cock. “You look so beautiful riding me like that.”

A smirk was on your lips and you lifted yourself even higher, slamming yourself back down and making the entire bed shake as you bounced.

“Rub my clit,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm approach.

Without missing a beat, he began rubbing your clit in harsh circles as you moved back and forth. He felt like he would black out, the sheer pleasure and how good you felt almost too much. You wrapped your hand around his throat, the action making his cock twitch and you knew he was close.

“Cum with me Lu. Cum inside me, you deserve it,” you panted, bouncing wildly.

He wrapped his arms around you and you fell on top of him, your entire body shaking, your pussy clamping tightly around him as you squirted on his raw cock. The rush of liquid sent him over the edge and as you came, you felt him cum deep inside you, his warm, sticky load filling you up.

You lay on top of him, still catching your breath. Luigi was staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he tried to gather himself. Then, he looked at you as you looked up, eyes soft, admiration written all over his face.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured.

You smirked, but there was something tender behind it. “Yeah? You weren’t so bad yourself.”

His face flushed, and he looked away for a second, running a hand through his curls. “Seriously, that was amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as you traced your finger on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.” Then, quieter, “Just hold me.”

Luigi blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that. He’d seen you confident, untouchable—but never like this.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You exhaled, melting into him, letting yourself get lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the rest of the weekend, he took you out on more dates—dinners, late night drives and movies. And each night ended the same way, his cock inside you, bodies and hearts growing more in sync.

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and it was time to go back to school.

As you and Luigi walked through campus, hand in hand, the stares were unavoidable. People whispered, eyes wide with shock, questioning how he managed to end up with you. But Luigi didn’t care. Not when he had you beside him.

And you didn’t care either.

He was yours. And everyone else would just have to fall in line. You were the it couple now.

[sturnschris]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF U.

pairings : smart!gg!reader x bf!chris

content: reader shows up at chris‘s house in the middle of the might and things quickly lead too sex

warnings: PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE. (can u tell this au is au comes with a loooooot of praise), established relationship, A LOT OF SMUT, smut without real plot,unprotected sex (do not do), cream pie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, from the back, fingering, softdom!chris x sub!smart!goodgirl!reader, etc……

a/n: this is in my old theme | this took super long too write and im still not happy w it but here you go + it doesn’t rlly have an ending 😭

too lazy too count words rn maybe ill update this.

love ya!💋

“who the fuck is that?” chris muttered to himself, getting up from the couch. nick and matt had gone to sam’s house, but chris had stayed behind, wanting some alone time with you. of course, he’d completely forgotten you had an exam to study for, so here he was, alone at 4 a.m., mindlessly scrolling through youtube. he opened the door and blinked in surprise. “baby? what are you doing here?” you looked up at him, shivering slightly. “can i come in?” “of course, my love. come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you in. his brows furrowed in concern as he closed the door behind you. “are you okay? what happened? i thought you were at home studying.” you sighed, stepping out of your wet shoes and wrapping your arms around yourself. “i was, but then i couldn’t concentrate, so i went to the library. but it started raining, so i decided to wait until it stopped. except now it’s 4 a.m., and it still hasn’t stopped.” chris smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “why didn’t you ask me to pick you up, hmm?” you frowned, looking away. “i don’t want to rely on my boyfriend all the time.” he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “you don’t have to, baby. but let me take care of you, okay? you can always call me.”

you nod and lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips. he smiles against your mouth, his hands gently settling on your waist, pulling you closer. “you’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “let’s get you into something warm, baby.” without waiting for a response, he’s already guiding you toward his room, grabbing one of his hoodies from the back of a chair. “here,” he says, holding it out for you. “take off those wet clothes and put this on.” you slip out of your damp clothes and pull the hoodie over your head. it’s big on you, the fabric enveloping you in warmth, and the scent of him clings to you like a comforting embrace. chris steps closer, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “you look good in my brand,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “perfect fit.” he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deep kiss. his hands move lower, gently gripping your thighs as he backs you toward the bed. the kiss grows deeper, more urgent, and you can feel the heat radiating between you. “let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sliding up to your waist as he pulls you closer, guiding you towards the bed.

he sits down on the bed and pats his thighs, motioning for you to come closer. you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. his hands find your waist, steadying you, his touch warm and firm. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his other hand rests at the small of your back, keeping you close. your cheeks heat up at his words, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss. his lips move against yours with a soft urgency, and you can feel his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if anchoring you to him. your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, pulling him even closer, your body melting into his as the kiss deepens. his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, he chuckles, the sound low and teasing as his lips hover over yours. “so eager, huh?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every second. “need you, chris,” you whisper, your voice soft and pleading, a slight pout forming on your lips. his eyes darken at your words, something shifting in his expression as he stares at you. “yeah?” his voice drops, low and smooth. “how bad, ma?”

your face flushes instantly, heat creeping up your neck as your gaze drops to avoid his intense stare. your shyness takes over, too embarrassed to say anything, and he notices, his smirk growing. he gently lifts your chin with his index finger, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “c’mon, baby,” he coaxes, his voice laced with both dominance and softness. “need to hear you say it. hm?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his tone dropping even lower. “you gonna be my good girl?” you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you s’bad, chris.” his smile grows, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “atta girl,” he murmurs, his voice warm and dripping with approval. his hands slide up your thighs, gripping just enough to make you shiver as he holds you steady in his lap.“that’s all i needed to hear,“in one swift movement, he flips you over, pressing you into the bed so you’re face down, ass up. a gasp escapes your lips, but it quickly turns into a soft whimper when you feel his hands firmly gripping your hips, holding you in place. he tugs your pants down with ease, your underwear sliding off with them in one smooth motion, leaving you exposed to him.

his warm hand trails down the curve of your spine before sliding lower, his fingers teasingly running through your folds. you let out a quiet, shaky whimper at the contact, your body instinctively arching into his touch. he grins behind you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as his fingers explore. “so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “you like that, baby?” you nod, your breaths coming out in uneven gasps, your body already responding to him in ways you can’t control. “yeah, you do,” he says, his tone full of pride, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring how easily you fall apart under his touch. “so fucking good for me.”he slowly slides one finger into your soaking cunt, his movements deliberate as he thrusts it in and out, letting you feel every inch. a soft gasp escapes your lips, and your back instinctively arches, pressing yourself closer to him as he stretches you out once again.

“so tight, baby,” he murmurs, his voice laced with approval as he watches the way your body reacts to him. his free hand grips your hip, holding you steady as his finger pumps in and out of you, curling slightly to hit just the right spot. you whimper, burying your face into the sheets, your body trembling with every slow, deliberate thrust of his finger. “chris,” you breathe out, your voice barely audible, but he hears it loud and clear. “that’s it,” he says, his tone dark and full of praise. “take it, baby. let me stretch you out. you’re doing so good for me.” he adds a second finger, easing it in slowly, and the stretch makes you gasp again. his fingers move in sync, curling and thrusting deeper, drawing soft moans from you with each motion. “your so perfect,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the small of your back.

you clench around his fingers, your body trembling, signaling that you’re close. but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty. “n-no,” you whimper, turning your bright red face toward him, your lips trembling. “i-i was so close.”he grins, his confidence radiating as he brings his slick fingers to your lips, brushing them against your bottom lip. “i know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “but i want you to cum on my cock, okay? can you do that for me?”your cheeks burn even brighter as his words settle over you, and you nod shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. “y-yes, chris.” “goooood girl,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hands grip your hips, positioning you exactly how he wants, his touch firm yet careful. “gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

he grips your hips, guiding you to arch your back just a little more as he presses his body against yours. you feel the weight of his cock against your folds, and it makes you whimper softly, your thighs trembling in anticipation. “look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride as he teases your entrance, sliding his tip through your slick. “so wet for me, baby. you want it that bad, huh?” you nod, biting your lip, your face still flushed. “please, chris,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. he chuckles darkly, leaning over you so his chest brushes your back, his lips brushing against your ear. “don’t be shy now, ma,” he coaxes, his hand sliding up your side to cup your cheek gently. “tell me what you want. i wanna hear you.” you swallow hard, your voice trembling as you manage to whisper, “i want you… i want all of you, chris.” “that’s my fucking girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before slowly pushing into you, inch by inch, his hand never leaving your hip as he keeps you steady. the stretch makes you gasp, and he pauses, letting you adjust. “you’re so pretty,” he whispers, his tone softer now, full of adoration. “taking me so well, baby.”

he starts thrusting slowly, his movements deliberate as he watches the way your body reacts to him. your eyes roll back, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and your back arches instinctively, craving more. “faster, please!” you cry out, your voice desperate and trembling. he chuckles darkly, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek, the contrast between his soft touch and rough pace making your body shiver. “so polite, hmm?” he teases, his tone dripping with approval as he picks up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and deeper. your fingers grip the bed sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as the pleasure builds with each movement. you bury your face into the pillow, muffling the loud screech that escapes you as he drives into you harder, your body trembling under his control. ���that’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice low and full of praise. “take it all. take everything i give you.“ his grip on your hips tightens, holding you firmly in place as he keeps up his relentless pace, each thrust pulling more sounds from you.

the pleasure in your stomach builds embarrassingly fast, and panic settles in as you realize how close you are after such a short time. how do you tell him? you can’t. you’ll just hold it—you have to. but of course, you should have known better. the second you clench down around him, chris lets out a low groan, his pace faltering for just a moment before his grip on your hips tightens. “you gonna cum, princess?” his voice is low, teasing, laced with amusement as he watches your body betray you. you shake your head vigorously, your face burning with embarrassment. “n-no— mmm- agh,” you manage to choke out, your words dissolving into a mess of moans as he thrusts even deeper, pushing you closer to the edge you’re desperately trying to avoid.

“no?” he repeats, a teasing edge to his voice, before snapping his hips harder, the force making you cry out. the sudden intensity sends a shockwave through you, and before you can stop it, your orgasm crashes down on you, ripping a loud screech from your lips. your body trembles violently, your walls fluttering around him as waves of pleasure roll through you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. his grip on your hips tightens, holding you steady as he continues thrusting, riding you through your high.

but he doesn’t slow down, his pace relentless as the overstimulation starts to overwhelm you. your legs are shaking uncontrollably, and your toes curl as another whimper escapes your lips. “s‘too much,” you cry out, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill from the intensity coursing through your body. chris leans over you, his hand wrapping around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make you listen, grounding you in his control. “c’mon, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his lips brushing against your ear. “you can take it. i know you can. you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you let out a shaky sob, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin, but his words are enough to keep you from breaking entirely. his grip on your neck tightens slightly, his thumb brushing your jaw in a gesture that somehow feels both tender and commanding. “just a little more,” he growls, his thrusts growing harder and more erratic as he starts chasing his own high, your body clenching and trembling beneath him. “give me one more, princess. i know you’ve got it in you.“

your eyebrows scrunch together, and your head falls into the pillows, your screams muffled as the pleasure overwhelms you. “gonna cum, baby,” chris growls, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” but his words barely register—you’re too lost, too busy chasing your own high to answer him. his hand tangles in your hair, gently pulling your head up as he taps your cheek, his touch both commanding and grounding. “c’mon, ma, listen to me,” he urges, his tone firm but soft enough to pull you back to him. you manage to nod weakly, still trembling, but he needs more. “where—fuck—where do you want it?” your mind is a blissful haze, thoughts incoherent as your body writhes beneath him. thinking feels impossible, but somehow, you manage to squeeze out the words through broken moans. “i-in me… ah—mmh—” his lips curl into a smirk, his movements faltering for just a moment as he takes in your response. “fuck, i love you,” he groans, his voice heavy with both affection and raw desire. his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, chasing his release as your walls flutter around him, pulling him closer to the edge.

he lets go of your head, letting it fall back onto the pillows as your body trembles beneath him. without missing a beat, chris reaches down, his fingers finding your swollen clit, massaging tight circles that send shockwaves through your already overstimulated body. the sensation is too much, your back arching as a broken scream escapes your lips. your walls flutter and clench around him, your orgasm crashing into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision blurs as your body goes limp, completely at his mercy.“fuck, that’s it,” chris groans, his movements growing erratic as he chases his own release. the way you grip him, tight and trembling, sends him over the edge. with one final deep thrust, he lets go, thick ropes of his release spilling into you as his hips stutter. he collapses over you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder and back, his hands gently soothing over your trembling body.

“you did so good, mama,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection as his hands continue to gently rub over your sides, grounding you. your body is still trembling slightly, but his touch soothes the aftershocks. you hum in response, too blissed out to form proper words, your cheek pressed into the pillow as your breathing begins to steady. his lips brush against your shoulder, leaving lazy kisses in their wake.“my smart girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with pride, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “always so good for me.” his words make your heart swell, and you manage to mumble a quiet “all for you” before your body completely relaxes into him.

there will be a pt. 2 which will be the after care and it will be based on THIS ask!

all dividers from. @issysh3ll

@delooshunalhoe @chrisdollete @christophersturnn @sturniologirlzz @sturnxies @lov3bug @mattsside @emely9274 @sturnlovematt22 @sophand4n4 @sfoiasturn @blahbel668

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - six (j.yh); section one

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. five | six (section 1); (section 2) | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3✨across stardust pinterest board

note: the end. thank you all so much for loving this story and being so kind and supportive. this fic has meant the world to me, and i hope you all are happy with the ending. there will be a short epilogue posted soon, but for now our story comes to a close.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, some general angst and upset emotions, allusions to a bad household growing up and cptsd, very frank coversations about idol life, pr, etc. saesangs and saesang invasions of privacy, discussions about delulu both fun and not okay delusion, but then also smut! including.... oral m!receiving, throat fucking, messy oral, cockwarming, dom!yunho, sub!reader, actual d/s dynamics even if it's kinda not defined, subspace but reader doesn't know that's what it is, fingering, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, light degredation, mostly praise, heavy on the good girls / pretty girls, cowgirl, absolutely intense multiple orgasms, creampie, dw they don't need to wrap it up they're married and in love

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 21.9k **note, this part was too long again for tumblr! please make sure you continue on to part six section 2, linked here!

The ring feels heavy on your finger when you wake up on Sunday morning to an empty bed, but you’re grateful for the weight of it. Without its presence you’d have nothing tangible telling you that the wedding happened at all, that you and Yunho were all of a sudden husband and wife. As the days of the week drag on, the ring becomes your tether. Every time you feel his spikes of anxiety, disappointment, or discomfort, you find yourself fiddling with the ring, your only true way of communicating with him while this is all happening around you, to you.  

By Tuesday you think you’ve memorized every divot and scratch on the band, and by the evening on Wednesday you’ve taken to spinning it in twisted little circles on your finger, so many times you probably have an indent already. 

On Thursday, you wake up once again to his side of the bed empty. You were up late the night before, a deep pit in your stomach, but once you fell asleep you really, truly slept. With Yunho gone, it’s hard to get rest like this, but somewhere in the back of your mind you know your body is trying to carry you both through the stress. 

When your eyes open it’s to a room bathed in full sun. For a second you feel relaxed, at ease, but the quiet of your apartment and the silence around you jolts you properly awake and you twist in the sheets to find your phone. 

Each morning, Yunho had been updating you on the negotiations. 

The meetings had gotten off to a rocky start to say the least, with their CEO truly blindsided by the sudden negotiations. Yunho hadn’t revealed too much about his reaction to the marriage, but you can put two and two together. 

Your eyes flick up to the clock on your nightstand and with the sharp sink of a stone in your stomach you realize it’s already ten. 

Scrambling in the sheets you search for your phone and hastily take off the Do Not Disturb. 

You have a missed call from an unknown number from eight thirty this morning, but then one simple text from Yunho sent only fifteen minutes ago. 

I know I said you wouldn’t need to speak with anyone, but our CEO would like to meet you.  

You sit down immediately, tapping back a fast reply - Meet me? 

He must be keeping a close eye on his phone, because his reply flicks back in record time - He wants to discuss your job directly, and it should be your choice how things are handled, not mine.

Your stomach flips, but he’s right - What time? 

Can you be here by eleven? 

You check the clock again - Yes. 

It takes a moment for him to respond this time, and you wonder if he’s in a meeting now and organizing things. If he’s speaking to the CEO directly, if their attorney is at his side. 

Your phone buzzes with his reply and you breathe out a sigh of relief - This feels like the last step, and I’ll be next to you the whole time. I love you. 

You text him that you love him too, and with a mix of tumbling excitement and panic in your belly, you get ready and start the all too familiar walk to the KQ offices. When you get there, you’re early and a new face from the security desk gives you a visitor’s pass and walks you towards the elevators. 

You haven’t seen Yunho in person since he kissed you on Saturday night and tucked you back into bed, but when the elevator doors open and you’re greeted with his face, everything melts away. 

“Hey,” He smiles, “I thought that was you,” 

“Hi,” You smile back, probably giving too much familiarity away for being in a shared hallway, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t care less anymore. 

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“As I can be,” You nod, “is he upset?” 

Yunho shakes his head, “No, but I don’t know, this whole negotiation process has been strange,” 

You take in a deep breath and nod, “Let’s get this over with then.” 

Without hesitation, Yunho takes your hand in his, “Let me walk you back,” 

Your heart stutters, your hand solidly in his within full view of anyone, but he doesn’t pull away or apologize like the touch was an accident, he meant to take your hand and he meant for people to see. 

His thumb smooths over your knuckles. 

“You’ll be in the meeting?” You double check as you start to follow him up the hall. 

“All of us will,” He assures you, “don’t worry.” 

You give his hand a squeeze and steady your racing heart. 

The CEO’s corner office is nice, but somehow still modest. That’s the first thought that strikes you as Yunho knocks lightly and opens the door, nothing like the last corner office you were dressed down in, flashy in ways that made you want to roll your eyes. 

You’ve met Kim Gyu-uk before, but it was brief and years ago when the teams were much smaller. He’s around sometimes on tour or gives rousing speeches at larger company parties, but otherwise the KQ CEO was largely out of your orbit, your jobs so vastly separate you rarely cross paths even in the halls of the same building. 

Despite that, he greets you with a smile like he’s been friends with you for years, standing the moment the door opens and crossing to the front of his desk to outstretch his hand to you. 

Your hand slips out of Yunho’s and you meet the handshake. 

“Miss y/n,” He shakes your head, “it’s very good to see you again.” 

“Oh,” You bow your head, “thank you,” 

“Perhaps I should say Mrs. Jeong,” He grins, eyes flicking between you and Yunho, “Yunho, now that your lovely wife is here I can offer proper congratulations.” 

Yunho wraps an arm around your shoulders, thanking him, but you have the strangest sensation that this can’t be real. He’s too kind, too pleased about the marriage, too congratulatory, and it makes your stomach clench with unease. 

“Alright,” He says after a moment, returning to his commanding side of the desk, “let’s chat,” 

Yunho guides you forwards to an empty chair, and you sink down into it, nodding to the rest of the men in the room, Attorney Choi at your right, Yunho at your left, and the rest of the members perched around the room in various spots. 

While there’s a subtle air of tension in the room, no one looks upset or outwardly stressed, and all you feel from Yunho’s side of the bond is anticipation. 

“So,” Kim Gyu-uk begins, “I trust that Yunho has been keeping you up to speed on our meetings this week?” 

He hasn’t, not nearly enough for you to feel confident in this meeting, but you nod anyways, “Yes, I think I’m clear on things,” 

He leans back in his chair, “Then you already know my position on your termination. While you two technically broke contracts and the company was within the right to fire you, I was not properly informed of the situation and of the true nature of your relationship. Mr. Minchul took it upon himself to handle it in the way that he did, and though I disagree with his actions, this is my company and my responsibility.” 

Yunho takes your hand back in his. 

“I apologize,” Gyu-uk says, “on behalf of the company and personally, you were treated without respect or consideration. I can assure you it won’t happen again,” 

“Oh,” You manage, “I… thank you, of course, thank you,” 

“Mr. Michul was let go this morning,” He adds. 

Your eyes widen, but Yunho leans forward, “What?” 

“Clearly we need a bit of housecleaning,” Gyu-uk offers, “you know we’ve never operated that way, and I don’t intend to start now.” 

Hongjoong smiles in your peripheral vision and nods, pleased. 

There’s a collective sense of relief, and your tense fingers start to relax. 

“Now,” Gyu-uk rests his elbows on the desk, leaning forward to address you, “as for your position here. I cannot offer you the same job,” 

Your heart sinks. 

“With your relationship,” He nods towards you both, “it wouldn’t be professional to have you work in such close proximity. I would say the same to any couple in this building,” 

You nod, “I can understand that,” 

“That being said,” He smiles, “I hope that you will accept a position working with the Xikers team,” 

Yunho smiles next to you, watching your face carefully. 

Gyu-uk continues, “You’d be in a slightly more senior role with that team of artists, but you’ve done great work for years with us, and until this I’ve never heard anything but positive feedback about you and your performance.” 

You’re stunned silent. 

Their CEO smiles and nods, “And of course,” he says, “Ateez may need an extra pair of hands on tour from time to time, if you’re comfortable with a certain amount of additional responsibilities and overtime,” 

Your eyes prick with tears, “Of course,” you interject, but then catch yourself, dipping your head and getting your emotions under control. 

Yunho rubs the back of your hand again. 

“Good,” He nods, “then Monday, can I expect to see you back at work?”

You swallow back the knot in your throat, “Yes, sir,” 

He nods, pleased. 

Attorney Choi clears his throat next to you, “I’d like to see her employment contract,” 

“I assumed so,” 

“We want explicit statements excluding their relationship from any of the standard language,” He continues, “and we expect an increase for a more senior position, even if Xikers is a junior group.” 

“Oh, I,” The words slip out, a slight shake to your head, you can’t lose this job when it’s been such a fight to get it back. 

Attorney Choi holds up a hand towards you, rendering you silent, but his eyes stay on their CEO. 

“I anticipated that already,” Gyu-uk laughs, a huff of air through his nose, “I’ll have the contract forwarded over for your review today. Satisfied?” 

“For now,” Attorney Choi nods, “where do we stand on our redlines?” 

It’s clear the conversation has shifted back to their employment contracts, and you make brief eye contact with Yunho and then Gyu-uk, “I’m sorry,” you interrupt, “should I step out?” 

He shakes his head, “Stay, we have a few more things to discuss.” 

Yunho separates your hands, shifting in his chair, and his hand finds a new home on your mid back. 

Their CEO looks to Attorney Choi and nods, “I am comfortable saying we have reached an agreement,”

You can practically feel the energy coming off the members at that sentence, and you glance to the side to see their faces. Hongjoong looks pleased and deeply relieved, and San and Seonghwa are grinning from their position at the far wall. 

Relief courses through you from Yunho. 

On his side you catch Mingi’s eyes, calm and betraying nothing, but you can see that he’s pleased and relieved too. Your eyes meet for the barest second, and in it he gives you a small, private smile. You can’t see the other members' expressions without twisting in your chair, but you imagine they’re feeling the same collective relief. 

“Can we agree on a five year term?” Gyu-uk continues, and you look back up. 

“Five years, with a salary review at three,” Attorney Choi says, completely calm and cool. 

There’s a pause. For a moment you wonder if this will push them back from the agreement and back into negotiations, but blissfully Kim Gyu-uk smiles. 

“You drive a hard bargain,” He says, reaching his hand across the table, “but I think we can agree to that.” 

Attorney Choi shakes his hand firmly. 

“Contracts will be ready for review by this afternoon,” Gyu-uk confirms, “if everything looks good, we can execute tomorrow and put this all behind us.”

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Dinner,” Gyu-uk says, “tomorrow after your recordings, my treat. We have much to celebrate.” 

In a snap the tension of the week is gone, and there’s a sudden rush of handshakes, hugs, the members erupting in a flurry of excitement all around you. You know from conversations with Yunho that they didn’t get everything they wanted in the renegotiation process, you know that’s how contracts work, but they got the important things. And you and Yunho got each other.

In the celebratory fray, Gyu-uk steps close to Yunho and claps him on the shoulder, “Now that that’s settled,” he says, “let’s have that talk,” 

Attorney Choi smoothly slides into the conversation, “Yes, let’s.” 

You glance between them. 

Gyu-uk nods and steps back, “Alright, everyone, I have some additional things to discuss with the happy couple,” 

Yunho leans in, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

You nod, but his words do nothing to soothe the strange sensation in your gut. 

“I’ll see everyone else for dinner tomorrow night,” He nods, “I’m glad we could reach an agreement, and I appreciate everyone’s additional time over the past week while we worked this through.” 

It’s the most professional and polite dismissal you’ve ever seen, but the meaning is clear. Gyu-uk wants the room cleared out, and he’s not waiting around for it to happen naturally. 

Hongjoong exchanges a quick word with Yunho as he steps out, “You good?” 

“Good,” He nods, “we’re fine,” 

Hongjoong nods, and then meets your eyes, “Glad to have you back, y/n,” 

“Me too,” You smile, “thank you, for everything, seriously,” 

He nods, shrugging a bit, “It’s nothing.” 

It wasn’t nothing, not at all. You know how many sleepless nights the members spent preparing for this moment, how many difficult conversations they had to get through. And while not every part of it was for you and Yunho, they put themselves on the line right alongside you both and you feel like you’ll never be able to thank them enough for that. 

After a moment, the room clears out, leaving you and your husband and your attorney, and a sea of empty chairs. 

Gyu-uk looks a little more serious this time, and he sighs as he takes a seat behind his desk. 

Nervous bubbles pop in your stomach. 

“I won’t lie to you,” He says, looking at Yunho, “you’ve put me in a hell of a position here, kid,” 

Yunho nods, “I know.” 

Gyu-uk waves you all down to a seat again and rubs his eyes, he’s tired too, you realize, “I want you to know, I would have agreed to dropping the clauses and having her back without the marriage. If you say you’re bonded, I personally believe that, and I can see it, it’s plain as day looking at the two of you.” 

Your heart thumps quickly in your chest. 

“In another life you would have made a good business man,” Gyu-uk laughs, “because this was one serious fucking ace of a negotiation tactic,”

He glances at you when he curses, “Excuse my language,” he says, but you shake your head to tell him it’s fine. 

“Sir,” Yunho takes your hand again, “I love my job, but you and your wife are soulmates, aren’t you?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes flick up and he nods. 

That’s new information to you, and your breath seems to stay trapped in your chest anticipating Yunho’s next words. 

“Tell me,” Yunho says calmly, “what kind of a man would I be if I left this up to chance?” 

Emotion bubbles in your chest and you blink back another tug of tears. 

Gyu-uk sighs and leans back in his chair, “Point taken,” he says. 

“I stand by my choices,” Yunho adds, his thumb passing over the band of your wedding ring. 

“I know,” Gyu-uk nods, “and you better keep that mentality, because I don’t know if you both have thought this through, but what happens from here is going to be ugly.” 

You grip Yunho’s hand a little tighter. 

“We know,” Yunho says. 

“No,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “you don’t know.” 

Yunho takes a breath, but Gyu-uk continues smoothly. 

“We’re going to take a serious hit from this,” He explains, “we’ll lose appearances, venues, brand deals. Fans are going to boycott, they’re going to say cruel things, girls are going to burn your photocards and say you betrayed them. Our revenue will take a dip, potentially a significant one, and that has ramifications of its own.” 

Yunho swallows tightly. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the honest scrutiny of his words. 

“What’s more than that,” Gyu-uk continues, “is what will happen to her.” 

Yunho’s posture broadens, defensive, his spine straighter as he takes in a breath to push back. 

“Her name, her family's names, where she lives, everything you’ve ever posted online will be scrutinized and picked through. That’s to say nothing of the fans that will cross the line offline; stalking, harassment, death threats,” 

Your breath feels thready, panicked. 

“Did you want this meeting just to scold them? Get to the point,” Attorney Choi interrupts, “They know the risks.” 

“Do you want that for her?” Gyu-uk continues. 

“Of course not,” Yunho’s jaw is set tightly. 

“You should have come to me first,” Gyu-uk says firmly, “I’ve known you since you were a boy, Yunho. I would have listened to you, and we could have made a plan for the two of you together,” 

Yunho shakes his head, “Sir, with all due respect I don’t know if I believe that. No matter how long we’ve known each other, I’m an idol on a rookie contract, and you’re still my CEO.” 

Gyu-uk regards him, his posture tight, and then he nods, “Maybe,” 

“‘Maybe’ wasn’t good enough for me,” Yunho says plainly, “and I may have let the company lead for me in the past, but this is about more than me now.” 

“I can understand that,” Gyu-uk concedes. 

Both of you wait for him to say more. 

“My point is,” Gyu-uk finally says, “you’ve put me on the back foot, and that’s not somewhere I enjoy being.” 

Yunho stays silent, unapologetic, but nods. 

“What I’m asking you now,” Gyu-uk says clearly, “after we’ve made our deals internally, is to buckle up for what we’re going to have to do.” 

The men on either side of you don’t say a word, and you glance between them before you finally speak up yourself, “Which would be?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes click to yours, assessing, “We need to be on the right side of this story. You’ve worked with idols for years, are you clear on what that means?” 

“You want to announce it?” Your eyes widen a little. 

You were ready for the story to break at some point, and you and Yunho had agreed that being together was worth the risk of that, but going public this quickly still strikes you in the chest. 

“Immediately,” Gyu-uk nods. 

Yunho shakes his head, “Absolutely not,” he leans forwards, “we have time to figure things out,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk stares at him with a withering look, almost fatherly in amusement at Yunho’s naivete, “you can’t make a move this strong and then concede before the check mate.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens. 

“Catch me up here,” You rest a hand on Yunho’s leg and lean forwards to keep Gyu-uk focused on you. 

“This past week,” He explains, “we had discussed a strategy for how to handle the story of your relationship breaking. Standardly, the company line for dating scandals that don’t produce definitive proof is silence. When caught in something more serious or undeniable, there’s usually a lot of apologies from the idol, groveling, and again, silence from the company. In both of those scenarios there is no real room for the couple to be together.” 

“Okay,” You nod, hand sliding to find Yunho’s. 

“Marriage is different,” He continues, “it has a different public perception, so do soulmate bonds. Marriage is also legally binding, which I know both of you are very clearly aware of,” 

Yunho bristles a little, but Gyu-uk isn’t wrong, it’s exactly why you did it now. 

“There are three options as I see it,” He holds your gaze, and something tells me that these three things were made very clear to Yunho this week even if you’re still in the dark. 

“Option one,” Gyu-uk says, “we renegotiate and Yunho leaves the company on positive terms, leaving you both free to pursue whatever lives you want together.” 

Your breath quickens. 

“It’s clear from this week that option is not viable, but it is the path that would afford you both the most privacy.” 

“What’s option two?” You prompt him. 

There’s a strange flicker of appreciation in his face for your directness and he continues, “Option two is that we wait for you both to be caught and then run the company playbook. It’s not a matter of if that will happen but when given marriage licenses are public record and people outside of this room are aware of your relationship.” 

You nod. 

“Option three is to go public now,” 

“We don’t have to announce it right away,” Yunho presses, “we can wait a little while, figure out the best way, this isn’t,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk interrupts softly, “we do, and you know that.” 

“What do you suggest?” Your thumb strokes over the back of Yunho’s hand, but you keep your focus on the conversation. 

“I have a larger plan put together with the PR team,” He explains, and then looks to Yunho, “but we are willing to take this risk with you for the good of the group. We have worked together since you were trainees, and I hope you understand that the reason we are even having this conversation is because I genuinely, genuinely believe this group is stronger with you in it.” 

Yunho nods, his eyes flicking down. 

“The company will announce it,” Gyu-uk says smoothly, “very clearly and in no uncertain terms you will have our support in that announcement. You will need to address your fans in a variety of posts, but the PR team thinks starting off with something personal on your Instagram is the right path.” 

“From there?” Your husband asks. 

“We remain positive and we handle the questions as they come,” Gyu-uk offers, “we’re wading into unprecedented territory here, but we will handle it all head on.” 

Yunho nods and then looks up sharply, “Does her name need to be in the announcement?” 

“Yunho,” You murmur softly. 

No matter how ready you both were for the oncoming storm the day of your wedding, it’s clear that here and now all he can think about is the risks, the worst case scenarios. 

“No,” Gyu-uk says, “and we’d like to keep your relationship as private as possible, not just for you, we really do not want to stoke things further and invite more inquiry. Y/n, your name will be public one way or another, but it won’t come from our announcement. You should prepare yourself for when it happens, but we’ll provide you with as much time as we can.” 

“Thank you,” You murmur. 

“She’ll need security,” Attorney Choi speaks up. 

Yunho nods, his hand tightening on yours. 

“That’s a given,” Gyu-uk says, “if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” 

Relief bleeds through your chest. 

“That being said,” He continues, “there is a chance this story is uncontrollable, that this industry is not ready for the change you want them to be ready for.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“We can only do so much,”

Yunho nods and looks from you to his CEO, “If that happens, I already told you, I will resign and I’ll make sure the members know it’s my choice. They won’t follow me,” 

Your eyes widen, your hand tight on his. 

“Yunho,” His attorney warns. 

“We will do everything we can to prevent that and avoid that,” Gyu-uk says earnestly, “that is not a path any of us want to walk. I give you my word on that,”

“This needs to be in writing,” Attorney Choi says, “if you want a stipulation for their relationship have an attorney draft-,” 

“No,” Yunho shakes his head, “no more contracts. I’m trusting you on this, and I give you my word too,” 

The assess each other quietly for a moment, and then Gyu-uk nods, “Alright,” 

Yunho’s hand rests on your back, “When do you intend to announce, then?” 

“We’re on a bit of a time clock with the next comeback,” Gyu-uk says, “but we’ll go to print on Thursday of next week. We’ll work through the language this week, and then Wednesday night you both will leave Seoul for a few days until the brunt of it blows over.” 

“Leave Seoul?” You ask.

”My brother has a house in Jeju. It’s private, rarely used, and far, far away from any newspapers or fans who would want to show up and harass you,” He explains, “consider it a wedding present,” 

You blink.

He sighs and then leans forwards, “Think of it as a way to get out of town and stay offline for a few days,” he says, “whatever the response is, it won’t be easy. Take a few days to yourselves and get your heads on straight, this is going to be a long process with a lot of publicity to manage. Let us handle it and get a few days alone,” 

You nod, and Yunho says, “What else?” 

“Nothing else,” Gyu-uk assures, “you both need to meet with Harin, and then you both need to lay low and let this play out.” 

Harin, the head of their PR team, was always available to nip and tuck a story into just the right language to sway public perception, and you’re not surprised in the least that this is where you’d be heading next. 

“If we’re doing it that soon,” Yunho says, “we need to discuss the apartments.” 

“What?” You turn your head, studying Yunho’s profile. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” Attorney Choi adds, “it would certainly make security easier.” 

Gyu-uk only looks at him.

“What apartment?” You ask again. 

Yunho turns his head to you, “We’re able to get our own apartments now,” he explains, “without managers living in unit as long as the building has approved security protocols and is within a reasonable distance to management and the offices,” 

You remember that clause in the paperwork you read, “Right,” 

He smiles, “I’m also contractually able to have a roommate,” 

You’re sure the surprise is all over your face. 

“So,” He turns back to Gyu-uk, “if we’re concerned about people stalking her or harassing her, I think she’s a lot safer living with me in a building that has security,” 

Gyu-uk sighs. 

“And I think you know better than anyone,” Yunho adds, “how much better I will be at my job if I’m not unnecessarily separated from my bonded soulmate,” 

For a moment, Gyu-uk shows nothing on his face but calm calculation, and then he nods, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lip, “I agree.” 

Yunho’s hand closes on yours, “Good,” 

Gyu-uk rubs his tired eyes again and then nods, “Let me speak with security, there’s not much time for us to get an apartment sorted before the announcement, but until we can, you’re of course free to stay with y/n at her apartment or at your dorm. But communicate clearly with management, no driving yourself or public transportation,” 

“y/n walks to work,” Yunho adds. 

“Not anymore,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “not until we know what this is going to be like, is that fair?” 

“Absolutely,” Yunho agrees, “whatever we need to do.” 

All you can do is nod, once again your head spinning at the amount of information you’re being dropped into. 

“Alright,” He leans towards the telecom on his desk and presses a button, calling out to reception. You listen as he sets up a call with the head of the security team and as he directs Harin and the PR team to set up in the small conference room down the hall. 

“Last thing,” Gyu-uk says as he stands, clearly signaling the end of this conversation, “rings off, until the story breaks.” 

Yunho nods, “Fair enough.” 

“Stay discreet for a few more days,” He advises, “and then after that, well, we’ll take it as it comes.”

The meeting ends with more handshakes, with both of you being ushered into a conference room with the PR team who are more than prepared to discuss strategy at length. You don’t have a moment to debrief with Yunho, to drop your smile and take a breath and ask him how you got here to this result all of a sudden on a Thursday. Instead, you’re at another conference room table with a team of people who seem to know more about social media than you could have ever fathomed. 

Harin is a small woman, but within two minutes you can tell she’s a fearsome adversary when it comes to arguing and spinning a story. You’ve never been the subject of her inquiries before, but all of a sudden you’re center stage. 

For hours you pour over details in ways you couldn’t even imagine. Yunho seems unphased by the directness and the detail in their questions, but they peel apart every facet of your life and your connections until there’s no stone unturned, no surprise story about your life that could break without them knowing and having a pre-planned response. 

You don’t have any school drama, no history of bullying or bad behavior. Your relationship history isn’t all that scandalous, only one bad breakup, but it was him who cheated and not you. Your relationship with your parents is described as unfortunate, but not unfamiliar in their line of work. The PR team files these little facts away for a rainy day, detailed and meticulous in their every follow up. 

Harin is clearly pleased that you’re at least moderately attractive, but you watch the way they try to label you and market you, your tattoos at least ‘consistent’ and ‘feminine’ enough to be deemed trendy and artistic. She’s appreciative of your personal style, but when she suggests layering in particular designer pieces to look more elevated you start to think that Harin and her team can only communicate in backhanded compliments. 

By the end they’ve dissected you open. 

It isn’t until one of the PR team members asks you a pointed question about your gay sister that real annoyance flickers through you and Yunho interrupts, making it very clear that Hana and Em are not only off limits, they’ll be publicly supported by both of you if anyone publishes anything negative about them. 

Once again, Harin takes it all in stride, a perfect story and a perfect response for everything. 

It isn’t until the meeting breaks and the room clears out that you get a moment alone with Yunho to digest any of it at all. 

In the sudden quiet of the conference room, Yunho shifts back to work, fielding a litany of texts, his eyes tired as he catches up what he’s missed and invariably needs to make up from being trapped in board rooms all day, and you stay quiet. Your own gut is churning with discomfort, but you bite the inside of your cheek, and you wait. 

Eventually, he drops the phone to the side and sighs, his office chair spinning towards you as he reaches out to take your hand, “I’m sorry,” he says, “you must be so exhausted,” 

“Me? I’m fine,” 

“I didn’t realize they’d take you through all that today,” He admits, “Harin’s just thorough,” 

“Mm,” You nod, “it’s fine,”

He fixes you with a look, finally picking up on your flat tone, “How are you really? And don’t say fine,” 

You can’t lie, not to him. 

He squeezes your hand and you let out an exhausted breath of air, “It’s been a long day,” 

“I know,” He soothes. 

Your chest throbs a little and you pull back from him, “Yun,” you murmur, “why didn’t you tell me about the apartment? About you leaving the group if this goes badly?” 

His back straightens, “What do you mean?” 

“You have to be honest,” You sigh, “you have to talk to me.” 

“You’re upset,” He observes, his brows ticking up in surprise. 

“I’m not,” You say it, even though deep down you both know it’s not the perfect truth, “but you can’t keep handling everything by yourself and expect me to just be on board,” 

His face falls, “Are you uncomfortable with what we decided today? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” You take his hands in yours, “you’re handling all of this so well, but Yunho, what was the plan if Gyu-uk didn’t ask for me to be in the meeting? Would you have told me we were moving in together after getting the keys?” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, “that’s not it,” 

“Listen,” You settle him, catching his cheek in your hand, “I love you. I love that you’re trying to protect me from this, and I know this is new for both of us, but this is our lives together, we need to make decisions together.” 

“We are,” He presses, “I’m telling you everything, you read all the contracts, I’m,” 

“Yunho,” You press, “stop,” 

“You are upset,” He says. 

“Okay, fine,” You lean back, “I’m upset,” 

“Tell me,” He nods, expectant. 

“I’m trying to!” The words slip out, exasperation through your tone. 

Yunho looks surprised, but he just nods, “Go on,” 

“You think you’re talking to me about everything?” You ask the question calmly, clearly. 

He nods again.  

“Baby,” You shake your head, “you’re keeping me in the loop, but that’s it. You tell me what’s happening after the fact, and then you plug me in to make a decision when you need one,” 

“That’s not fair,” 

“I waited for you for days after I got fired,” You tell him gently, and his face falls, “and when I came back everything was already in motion and we were married before I could even blink. I am so, so happy to be your wife, please don’t misunderstand me,” 

“You regret it?” His heart hammers in his chest. 

“Never,” You slide closer to him, “never, ever. Listen to me,” 

His eyes study yours, his mouth snapping shut. 

“You are making big decisions about our life together without me,” You tell him gently, “I think because you want to shield me from all the bad parts about your life as an idol, or maybe because you think it’s your job as my partner, as my husband, to take care of the hard things so I only get the good parts.” 

His eyes drop. 

“I trust you,” You murmur, “with my life, my whole heart, but I don’t want a marriage like that.” 

His brows draw together, his hands tightening on yours. 

“I want you to tell me our options,” You continue, “I want to decide things together. I want to hear about the bad shit so we can face it together, get through it together.” 

He doesn’t look up. 

“If this all goes badly,” You tell him softly, “I don’t want you pulling the ripcord on your career because you decide you don’t want to put me through something. We’re bonded, we’re married, we’re going through it together no matter what, but I want you to talk to me so we can decide how to get through it together.” 

He sighs, dropping his head into his hands. 

You insist, “I know you’re just trying to keep me safe,” 

He nods. 

“I promise you, I can handle this,” You murmur, “whatever people say about me, whatever people do to me, I don’t care.”��

His head lifts at your words, his eyes flaring with sudden intensity, and his hands close over yours, “No one’s doing anything to you.” 

You can feel the sudden pit of fear in his body, and you shake your head, “Yunho, breathe.” 

His lips pull into a frown and he leans back in his chair, your hands still secured in his. Something’s frozen on the tip of his tongue, you don’t need a soulmate bond to tell you that. 

“What?” You murmur softly, squeezing his hand. 

 His knee bounces, nervous, strained energy bursting out of him until he finally says it, “Did you know that two years ago some fans, stalkers, put GPS trackers on our managers' cars?” 

You nod, “I heard,” 

“Did you know our old dorms were broken into?” He asks calmly, finally turning back to look at you. 

Slowly, you shake your head. 

“We came home after promotions and there were gifts in Yeosang’s room,” He explains, “and letters. A whole box of love letters that started off like fan mail and turned into threats,” 

“Against Yeosang?” Your eyes widen. 

He shakes his head, “No,” he murmurs, “against everyone else. The company was keeping them apart, the management was conspiring against them, the members were jealous of their connection,” 

“Jesus,” You breathe. 

“She was very sick,” Yunho explains, “but very fixated and very motivated.” 

“What happened?” 

“We had security footage, the company turned it into police and she was arrested,” He explains, “but that’s not the point,” 

Your stomach sinks. 

“I want you,” He laces your fingers together, “and I want to be with you in front of the world, all of that is true.” 

You nod. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of what that means,” He confesses, “I would shield you from the cruel things people are going to say online because I love you, and I know what that kind of attention feels like, but,” 

You squeeze his hands, your chest aching as he opens up to you more and more. 

With a deep breath he shakes his head, “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “when I say I’m terrified, it’s not about what people could say. It’s what people could do,” 

“Yunho,” You manage.

“I wake up terrified that someone will find your address,” You can feel his heartbeat thundering in your own chest, “that someone who doesn’t know me, but thinks they love me, will find you and hurt you or take you away from me in a way that I c-can’t,”

 His breath hitches on the word and he shakes his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind, “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you to be scared, but there are things we have to do to make sure you’re safe once people find out about us, and I won’t risk your safety.” 

“Come here,” You pull him close into a hurried embrace between the chairs, “you think I don’t worry about the same things?” 

He exhales heavily against your hair. 

“I’m not naive,” You murmur, “I’ve worked with you for years, I know what some fans can be like.” 

“Then,” 

“I’m safer if you talk to me,” You pull back to see his eyes, “we’re stronger together and that includes making decisions together. Trust me to know when something doesn’t feel right, let me carry this with you.” 

“y/n,” He murmurs, his expression pained, “some of this job is so ugly, so horrible. I just wanted to keep that from touching you,” 

“I know,” 

“If anything ever happened to you,” He shakes his head, cupping your cheeks.

“I know,” You assure him softly, “but nothing bad is going to happen to me,” 

He just looks at you.

“Yun,” You murmur, “I trust you to keep me safe, I trust your judgement with the company, the extra security, all of it. I just don’t want to be in the dark, I don’t want to be unaware and I don’t want you killing yourself with all this pressure.” 

He sinks forward, his lips connecting with your forehead, but he nods, “Okay,” 

“If we’re together,” You murmur, letting the feeling of his lips ground you to him, “then whatever happens can’t divide us,” 

He nods again, his shoulders sinking, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” You pull back, meeting his warm eyes, “we’re okay,” 

“Are we?” He checks, fingers soft on your cheeks. 

“Always,” You assure him. 

He smiles slightly, just a twitch of his lips, his dark brown eyes full of tenderness, “You’re everything to me,” he kisses you softly, “I’ll do better, I promise,” 

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours, “Me too,” you tell him gently, “we’re still just figuring this out. Six months ago we were co-workers, now we’re married,” 

He smiles properly now, “That’s true,”

“And it’s not as if I had the best track record with relationships,” You add, “figuring all of this out takes time, learning how to be the right kind of partner for each other takes time,” 

He hums, appreciative of your words, “I always thought it would come naturally with a soulmate,” he murmurs, “my parents always said it took work, but I never really understood that until you,” 

“Yeah,” 

He nods, sitting up a bit in his chair and sighing, “Together,” he says, “with everything.” 

“That’s all I’m asking for,” You reply gently. 

The tightness in both of your chests relaxes, the steadiness of your heartbeats in time bringing you both back down to center. 

After a moment, Yunho grins wide though and looks back up at you, “Was that our first fight?” 

A laugh bursts out of your lips and you cover your mouth with your hand, “I don’t know if that counts as a fight,” 

“You were upset,” He points out, “I upset you,” 

“I feel like fights have a lot more shouting, we figured that out pretty quickly,” You smile, leaning back in your chair. 

His brows pinch together, head cocking to the side at your words. 

“What?” You ask at his confused expression. 

“Yeobo,” He says slowly, “if that’s your definition of a fight, then I guess we’re never going to have one.” 

His confusion makes no sense to you, and you laugh reflexively, “That’s optimistic,” 

“I don’t shout,” He says, his eyes studying your expression, “not really at anyone, but definitely not at you.” 

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “marriage is hard, things happen. As long as we work through it though,” 

Yunho shakes his head again, “We’re not going to fight like that,” he says gently, “we’ll disagree sometimes and maybe we’ll hurt each other by mistake, but I’ll never raise my voice to you. I don’t do that,” 

Your expression falters. 

In the back of your mind there’s a steady image, your parents face to face, their expressions contorted in anger, shoulders squared off and tense, a broken vase at their feet on the kitchen tile. Hana hiding behind your legs, her small hands gripping your jeans, your body taut with a fraying cord of panic.  

Yunho’s hand gently smooths over yours, “My parents never yelled at each other,” he explains softly, and you wonder how much of your sudden thoughts he could see, feel the shape of, “even when things were difficult. Talking to each other like that,” he shakes his head, “that’s not something I want for us, you won’t get that from me.” 

You manage a nod, your throat tight. 

“So,” He smiles, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, “our first fight, I think we did pretty good,” 

You release a soft puff of air through your lips, his smile infectious, bringing you back once again from the bad memory, “Yeah, I guess we did,” 

“How can I make it up to you?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your lips, “After two weeks of being a controlling ass,”

You roll your eyes, “You weren’t being an ass,” you assure him, “and you’re forgiven, honestly,” 

He brushes past that though, “Dinner,” he says, “Gyu-uk said lay low for the week, but I have my phone back. Let’s do takeout over FaceTime?” 

You grin, nodding, “I’d like that,” 

“I’ll tell you all about this week,” He adds. 

“Mhm,” 

He stands and stretches his tired limbs, “It was eventful,” 

“I thought so,” You stand with him, packing away what little things you have out. 

“Harin said she’d email over the first draft of the announcement tonight too,” He adds, “let’s review it together?” 

You nod, “Perfect,” 

He starts to reach for the door and then doubles back, “Oh,” he says, making a face, “I almost forgot.” 

You watch as he reaches for his wedding ring, twisting it off his finger. 

“Can you keep this safe for me?” He holds it out to you, “Give it back to me on our way to Jeju?” 

You take the warm loop of metal and slide it onto your thumb, the only place it’s sure not to slip off, “Of course,” 

“I have to get to practice,” He murmurs, leaning in and kissing you one last time, “but I love you. Text me when you get home safely?” 

“I will,” You nod, still caught in his gravitational pull as he reaches properly for the door this time. 

Yunho walks you out the same way he walked you in, with a hand on your back, making sure you’re safely in the elevator before he finally leaves you. 

You start the walk home with both wedding bands securely around your fingers, and only then do you allow the pure feeling of relief to flood through your body. 

It’s done.

Finally, finally done. 

By the time you’re home, your face hurts from smiling. You’re dialing Iseul the second you’re tucked away where no one can hear you. 

For the first time in months, a conversation with your best friend isn’t laden with panic and what-ifs. For the first time you’re both laughing, practically giddy. You diagnose every aspect of what being on the Xikers team means for your career, you joke about getting her pulled over onto that team with you so you have the same schedules again. She tells you all about her confrontation with Eunji, the way she dressed her down in front of Dahan and made it perfectly clear she wasn’t a welcome member of their inner circle. You speculate how many days before she quits. You fall apart into peels of laughter at the idea of her quitting the day of the wedding announcement. 

You talk about the honeymoon like it’s a real one, not an island getaway to avoid the press. You try not to think about the fact that you and Yunho are about to change this industry forever. Instead, you just talk to your best friend, in a way that you sorely, sorely missed. 

While you talk, you play with Yunho’s ring on your finger, twisting it this way and that, carving another indent into your skin just for him. You keep it safe, guarding it the same way you’ve been guarding both your hearts since brushing his cheek in Berlin. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

This part of Jeju is quiet in the off season. 

Nestled along the shoreline of Seogwipo, you and Yunho wait in a house far too big for two people, but blissfully far away from any other properties, overlooking the dark blue water of the South Sea. Despite the privacy and romantic scenery though, you’re both on edge after arriving late last night and having hours alone with your thoughts before the public announcement. 

You’re still wrapped up in bed at ten the next morning, hitting refresh on the Ateez official Twitter account over and over, nervously double checking the clock and your WiFi connection just to be sure you haven’t missed it. 

“Is it up yet?” Yunho asks softly, two cups of coffee in his hands as he walks back into the large corner bedroom, his wedding ring back in its proper place on his finger. 

“Not yet,” You check your phone again for good measure. 

He sets the coffees on the nightstand and slips back under the fluffy white duvet cover, sliding towards the middle to sit next to you, “They’re probably double checking the language,” 

“Yeah,”

“It’s going to be alright,” He wraps his arm around your back, “we’re going to be alright,” 

“I know,” You breathe, “it’s just a risk,” 

“It’ll be worth it,” He promises, kissing your temple softly. 

You nod, and then the phone buzzes in your hands. 

Both of your eyes snap down and you tap the push notification from Twitter alerting you to the tweet you’ve been waiting for. 

Your heart starts to pick up in your chest as you tap the link to the official announcement, even though you already know exactly what the text will say. You and Yunho both had given your consent on it yesterday before you left Seoul, but that was when it was just a draft in an email. 

This is real. 

Both of your eyes flick over the words. 

KQ Entertainment Artist Announcement 

Hello,

This is KQ Entertainment. 

We would like to provide an update regarding one of our artists, ATEEZ Jeong Yunho. 

Earlier this week, ATEEZ member Yunho was married in a private ceremony, supported by his family and friends. The company offers sincere congratulations and well wishes to the couple. 

While we apologize for the sudden news and any concern this may cause fans, we ask for your kind understanding and support for Yunho at this time. Yunho will continue participating in all ATEEZ activities with the full support of KQ Entertainment. 

We will continue to prioritize the well-being of our artists both professionally and personally, and request that fans do the same. At this time, we request privacy for the couple. 

Thank you.

Yunho takes your hand and gives you a squeeze. 

“It’s really out there,” You breathe. 

He nods, “It is,” 

“How long until they figure out who I am, do you think?” You chew the inside of your lip, dropping the phone back onto your knees, the announcement still open. 

“Not long,” He murmurs, “your socials are all private?”

He’s asked that numerous times over the past few days of preparations, but you smile, “Yes, Yunho,” 

He exhales slowly and wraps his arm back around you, tucking you into his chest. 

Preparation for this announcement had been meticulous, the past week spent quibbling over every word choice and potential outcome.

To maintain as much privacy as possible, you and Hana and Em had all made your social media accounts private, and then you and Yunho had gone to Jeju to weather the storm and stay out of sight.

Yunho kisses your hair gently and brings you out of your thoughts, “Our management should be posting my announcement soon too,” 

You nod. 

Yunho leans to the side and grabs his phone off the nightstand and you watch as he lights up the screen to show dozens of notifications already. He swipes the phone onto Do Not Disturb and swallows audibly, and you feel the onset of nerves in his chest. 

“We’re okay,” You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. 

“Mhm,” He holds you closer, “I know,” 

You watch him navigate to Instagram, opening up his own profile, and he nods when he sees the new photo in his grid, “It’s up,” 

He hasn’t let you read it yet, and you shift in his arms to look up at him, “Can I?” 

He nods, placing his phone into your hands before sliding out of bed, “I’m going to get some water,” 

It’s a thinly veiled excuse, but you don’t press him. What he’s written must be deeply personal if he doesn’t want to watch you read it, and you let him go. 

He gives you one soft smile and then disappears again. 

Left alone with his phone, you take a deep breath and tap on the first photo in his grid. 

The post is simple, one single photo of Yunho. He’s far from the camera, sitting along a large stone wall overlooking the ocean in Japan. His head is turned slightly to the left so you can make out his profile and there’s a distinct, soft smile on his face. 

You tap open the text of the post and start to read. 

Atiny, I have something personal to share, more personal than anything I have ever shared before. 

While I know what I am about to tell you may cause concern for me or may upset you, you who I consider precious and beloved, I ask that you please read everything I have to say and remember that I am still your Yunho. 

Late last year, at an unexpected time and in an unexpected place, I accidentally bumped into a woman and knew the moment we touched that she was my soulmate. While she and I have known each other professionally for many years, we did not know that we shared this connection with one another until very recently. In complete honesty, which is what I think you all deserve, we did not know what we should do or how we could move forward and live honestly if we decided to hide this from the world. 

Those of you who have been lucky enough to find your soulmates will understand how difficult these decisions are, and how deeply your life is changed by finding your steadfast partner in life. 

We chose to be honest with our families, our friends, and our company and we will be forever grateful that we have received nothing but kindness and support. We chose to be married so that we could live honestly and openly in your eyes too.

As an idol, I have spent my life receiving love from you. Because of this, there are things I believe I should endure so that I may become a better Yunho and give more to my members and you, our Atiny. Those things are worth enduring to bring you a better Ateez, and I have taken personal pride in being called your happiness, I always will. But there are limits to what I think is fair for us as idols to endure, painful things that go beyond the bounds of what is normal for other professions and for what I believe is right. Idols conceal their relationships for years even after retiring from public life, and those who have announced their relationships have been met in the past with difficult words.

I speak for myself when I say it has been the greatest honor of my life to be a member of Ateez and to be able to feel love and support from our Atiny every day. But it would be dishonest to you and to myself if I did not stand up for my own happiness, and it would be both unfair and unkind to ask my partner, my soulmate, to hide herself away behind the shadow of my career out of fear. 

To my Atiny, I will always be grateful to you for the love and care you have shown me. You have taught me how to live well and how to love well, and it is because of you that have become the bright, energetic person that I am today. Now that I have met my soulmate, I can share that love with her too, someone that I can rely on, someone who helps carry me, and someone who I can spend the rest of my life with. 

I hope that you can give us your understanding and your consideration. I will always be your Ateez Yunho, and I will never stop working hard to be an idol you can embrace and be proud of. 

Atiny, you have been and will always be my happiness, but she is my heart. I can only hope that you can take care of us both for the years to come. 

You take a sharp breath as you finish reading, tears spilling over and splashing onto the screen, your eyes looping over the final sentence over and over again. 

“Was it alright?” Yunho’s voice is gentle, a little fearful, and your head snaps up to see him lingering in the threshold watching you carefully. 

“Alright?” You wipe the tears away with the backs of your hands, “Yunho, it was perfect, I don’t care what anyone says about us, I can’t believe you wrote all that,” 

His posture softens, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You take a breath, reaching for him, “I love you,” 

He climbs back into bed with you, arms wrapping around you, “I love you,” 

“It was so perfect,”

He nods, kissing your forehead, “I just wanted to be honest,” 

You lean into him, folding into a hug, until you’re both sliding back down into the bed and cuddling close. 

“It’s out there now,” He says after a few minutes, “everyone’s probably talking about it.” 

“Probably,” You nod, smoothing a hand up and down his arm, “but we’ve got this.” 

He nods, a ragged breath leaving his chest as he falls away from you onto his back, “Yeah,” 

You can feel the slight knot of tension in his gut, but you know he’s trying to stay strong and positive for you. Cuddling into his side again you kiss his chest, “Let’s let it be,” you murmur, “we’ll just hideaway right here,” 

His arm wraps around you, “Right here?” 

“Mhm,” You snuggle closer if it’s at all possible, “just you and me and this big bed. Ateez who?” 

That gets a laugh, and he turns into you, carding a hand through your hair, “Just you and me,” 

“Mhm,” You kiss his chest and he lets his head fall back to the pillow.

Your eyes flutter shut, sinking into the sound of his heart and the feeling of his warm skin. If you’re being honest, your mind is going a mile a minute too, but you focus on breathing in time with him. 

Time passes around you, both of you quiet and resting together, caught in your own individual thoughts. You keep your eyes closed, and for a moment you think Yunho might be falling asleep, his breath evening out and his arm relaxed on your back, but then a heavy pang of shame echoes through the bond and you blink your eyes open. 

The first thing you see is his phone as he quietly scrolls and studies something on the screen.  

“Hey,” You reach up, “what are you doing?” 

“Just checking,” He admits. 

Your eyes flick to the screen, and you see the comment that got a reaction from him. 

I should have known never to trust you. Too nice. Too sweet. It’s always a lie. 

“Stop,” You snatch the phone from his hand, locking the screen fast and putting it to the side. 

“I’m fine,” He swallows tightly. 

“You don’t seem fine,” You murmur, pushing yourself up to lean on his chest and look down at him. 

“I just,” His eyes flick away, “I wish there was a way to be with you that didn’t mean disappointing all of my fans, but they hate me now,” 

“They do not.” You argue. 

“They do,” He shakes his head, “you haven’t read the comments.” 

“The post went up ten minutes ago,” You counter, “the only people commenting are people that have you on post notifications, and I’d bet more than half of those people are the ones who will be the most mad,” 

“y/n,” He sighs. 

“Give it time,” You use the words he’s been using all week, “come here,” 

Pushing his phone farther to the side, you slide up on his chest and tug his mouth to yours. 

“Mm,” He laughs gently against your lips, “What are you doing?”

“It’s a honeymoon, right?” You kiss him again. 

“Yeah, but,” He grips your hips as you kiss him again, cutting off his words. 

“Let me make you feel better,” You murmur, peppering kisses down his throat, “take your mind off things.” 

“Oh,” He blinks as you shimmy down his body, “baby, I’m okay,” 

“Soulmate bond, remember?” You say, “I can tell when you’re stressed.” 

He swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple shifting under your lips. 

“I think we could both use the distraction,” You admit. 

You feel him soften under your body at that. 

Slowly, you separate your body from his and shift down to the bed between his open legs. His eyes are wide, a pretty flush already across his nose and cheeks, his chest rising and falling more quickly with the rapid onset of his arousal. 

He’s not fully hard yet, but you felt him start to get there at just the suggestion of sex, a firm press against your belly as you slid down over his body. As you peel away his boxers though, your hand ghosting over his cock to tease him, he starts to stiffen up fully, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen twitching at your touch. 

“Sweetheart,” His hands clench down on the duvet, “you’re killing me,” 

“I’ve barely done anything,” You tease him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” He shakes his head, “I think I’m Pavloved to get hard whenever you touch me,” 

You giggle, shaking your head at his words, “Oh yeah?” 

He hisses as your hand closes around his cock more firmly, his hips jumping, “Mhm,” 

“If that were true, wouldn’t you be hard all the time?” You tease him. 

“I basically am,” He smiles down at you, watching the way your hand strokes up and down over him, “you’re very distracting,” 

“Hmm,” You shift downwards in the bedding so that you’re laying on your front between his legs, propped up on your elbows as you continue to tease him, “that sounds difficult,” 

He snorts a gentle laugh, “I wouldn’t say wanting to fuck my wife all the time is a hardship,” 

Arousal bubbles up at his words and you can feel your face heating, “Well,” you murmur, grazing your nails up his abdomen and pushing up his t-shirt, “it’s a good thing you married me then,” 

“Why’s that?” His voice goes a little breathy as you cup his balls. 

“I’m pretty insatiable,” You press a kiss to his inner thigh, “I need a husband who can keep up,” 

He laughs again, his eyes growing hotter, tongue resting cheekily against his upper teeth, “I’ll show you ‘keeping up’,”

“I know you will,” You kiss him again, “we have days to keep ourselves busy,” 

“And distracted,” He groans lightly as you graze the underside of his shaft with your fingers again. 

“Exactly,” You kiss the velvet head of his cock and watch as his mouth falls open. 

“God,” He sighs.

“Just relax,” You murmur, teasing him slowly with a lap of your tongue, “forget about everything else,” 

He’s quiet at that, and when you search the bond you feel his tight hesitation. 

“Just be here with me, baby,” You touch him more, hands up and down his thighs, another lick, the teasing promise of your mouth, “fuck everything that isn’t you and me in this bed.” 

His breath catches, and you answer the sound by finally sliding your mouth down over his leaking cock. You start slow, practiced and measured, gentle bobs of your head up and down as you focus your tongue on his tip, the taste of his precum already salty and hot on your tongue. 

You lavish your mouth over him, focused on ridding him of any feeling but pleasure and need. Slowly you increase the pace, dropping your mouth down further, your nails scratching lovely lines into his thighs, doubling down on any touch that pulls a breathy noise from his lips. 

Despite his sounds, how you touch him, how you taste him, the knot of tension in his gut stays rock steady. You can feel his mind elsewhere. He’s tense, he’s stressed, and there’s an undercurrent of guilt and shame that you just can’t seem to shake out of him no matter how tender you are with your tongue. 

You know what he needs in a surprising pang of clarity, and strangely, you want it just as much as he does. 

You pull back from his cock to take a breath, and without a glance up at him, you find his hands with yours and draw them close. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you guide his hands to your head, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes flicking up to his, “I trust you,” 

He studies your face for a moment, and then his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He swallows tightly, and you feel his fingers sink pleasantly into your hair. 

“This okay?” He checks, his fingers tightening against your scalp just a fraction. 

It’s been years since you’ve allowed anyone to touch you like this, but Yunho’s hands feel perfect. 

It feels good. 

You nod again, your heartbeat quickening in your chest in anticipation.

“If you want me to stop,” He brushes one hand over your hair, keeping it back from your face, “tap my thigh, I’ll let go,” 

“I trust you,” You echo it again, and then you dip back down to take his cock deeply in your mouth, his hands heavy on your head. 

He groans earnestly this time, like he can’t stop the sound from ripping out of his chest, and you know he’s restraining himself still but you can feel his satisfaction in the way his fingertips press down. 

“Jesus,” He manages as you bob your head back up and then down, sinking him as far down your throat as you can, “baby,” 

You stay focused on his cock, teasing him with your tongue, sharp sucks, humming sensations at the velvet tip. 

His hands stay gentle, but present, taking it at your pace and letting you drive. 

When you pull off to take in a breath, you pant out one word, “More,” 

His body freezes, his breath caught in his chest, but you’re already back to sucking him sweetly, and he can barely contain himself as he watches you give everything you have to his cock. 

Slowly, experimentally, Yunho applies more pressure to your head, pushing you down on him just a little to see how you’ll take it. 

Your shoulders relax, and you let him push. This normally scares you, it makes you panic and scramble away with anyone else, but with him? After everything? It’s perfect and dizzying, and all you feel is overwhelming care from his side of the bond. 

You go lax in his hands the more he guides you, and you can feel his hips aching to move under your hands. 

You moan, silently begging him for more, when he stops things.

“F-fuck,” He pulls his hips back, drawing his cock from your lips, “come here, baby,” 

Dazed, you lift up to look at him, “What?” 

“Come here,” He beckons you up to him, “I want you closer,” 

His hands slide under your upper arms, gently tugging you towards him and you climb over his thigh, following his direction until you’re kneeling at his side, your knees by his hips. 

He shifts up in the bed until he’s somewhat seated, reclined against the pillows and headboard, and then he reaches out and cups your cheek, “Come lay down,” 

“Here?” You start to shift like you’re going to lay down next to him the same way, but he shakes his head. 

“Like this,” His hand presses against your back, drawing you down towards his abdomen again, and you realize how he wants you. 

You relax down until you’re curled up, your back to the headboard and your cheek against his stomach. 

Yunho rubs your back, soothing you into the new position, “There we go,” 

Like this, every stitch of his anxiety seems gone. Something deep seated in his body needed to touch you like this, see you like this, and you shiver in anticipation. Positioned like this, all you feel is deliciously submissive. 

“Can I touch your hair like this?” He asks softly. 

You nod against him, “Yeah,” 

“Mm,” He sighs pleasantly, “thank you, baby,” 

Your chest expands with dizzy warmth, and his hand tenderly passes over your hair twice before settling into a comfortable spot on the crown of your head. 

“Ready?” He murmurs. 

You nod. 

“That’s good,” His voice is so warm, low in his chest, “put those pretty lips around my cock again, sweetheart,” 

You melt into him, shifting forward to sink down over his shaft again. 

This time, Yunho’s in control, you’re under no illusions otherwise. You moan as he slowly pushes your head down, directing his cock in just deep enough that it settles heavily on your tongue without irritating the back of your throat. 

“Good girl,” He says, and at that your eyes flutter pleasantly closed. 

You press the flat of your tongue to his cock and relax your mouth, breathing in and out slowly through your nose. 

Yunho finds your hand and lifts it, placing it over his thigh, his hand tightening over yours to illustrate his words, “Tap and we stop, okay?” 

“Mm,” You reply, mouth still full of him. 

“Show me,” He strokes your hair. 

You tap his thigh twice, sharp and unmistakable. 

“Good,” He croons. 

Something about this tone from him has your body unspooling. You were just meant to take his mind off the hate comments, distract him with a little blowjob and maybe take a nap after, but something about this feels like therapy for you too. 

“So pretty for me,” He sighs, stroking your hair, letting his cock rest heavy between your lips. 

You sigh, your mind going soft. 

With his wide hand on your head, he applies a little pressure, directing you into a slow, bobbing motion, “There we go,” he says as you catch on, “that’s it, honey,” 

Your eyes roll, your hand gripping his thigh for purchase. 

He keeps this pace for a while, both your head and his hand moving with deliberate sluggishness. Curled against his side you find yourself breathing in and out deeply, almost meditatively, and with his free hand, Yunho continues to rub your back. He makes no attempt to touch you any other way, just slipping his hand under your loose sleep shirt to feel your skin and soothe you as you take his cock like this. 

Slowly, his hips start to move. First in time with the motion of your head, little undulating thrusts that push his cock a little deeper down your throat with every upstroke, but then you feel his hand tighten on your hair. 

You want him to take it.

That’s your single coherent thought as you whine around his shaft, his hand gathering your hair into a loose fist. 

“Good girl,” He groans, “making me feel so good,” 

You hum again, body relaxing in his grip. 

“Letting me use that perfect mouth,” His voice sounds tight again, thready with his own pleasure. 

You moan at his words, saliva pooling in your mouth, dripping and messy down his cock as he picks up the pace. 

“That’s my girl,” He thrusts a little more, fucking your mouth properly now, “oh, god, look at you,” 

Your eyes are watering, your jaw starting to ache, but don’t want to stop, not even close. 

“Can you take it deep, pretty girl?” 

“Mm,” You nod a little, dropping your head down as far as you can with your hair caught in his fist. 

“Oh, fuck,” He sighs, “of course you can,” 

With a push on your head and a jerk of his hips he buries the full length of his cock down your throat and holds you there. 

Your hand tightens on his thigh and Yunho waits, his body still, giving you the easy opportunity to tap out, but you don’t. 

His hand leaves your back, reaching around to cup his own balls and feel just how deeply you’re taking him. He groans, “So perfect,” 

You make a tight noise, the first tickle at the back of your throat, and he lifts your head up to give you a break from the overwhelming sensation of him stretching your mouth. In a second though he’s back to his pace before, sharp thrusts that drag his cock over your tongue, his breath getting more audible as he uses you. 

You can tell he’s close before he says it, the feeling of his pleasure building in your own gut, but you still moan when you hear him say it, his words punctuated by sharp pants, “I’m gonna come, baby,” 

It happens fast, with a jerk he pulls you off his cock entirely and you suck in a full, startled breath of air. 

He fists his cock, his arm wrapped around you, and he pumps himself hard and fast. 

“Fuck,” He shudders under you, “I’m close,” 

“Please,” Your voice is hoarse, but you nod, holding yourself up with your hands braced on his thighs, “Come,” 

He shudders, groaning, and you close your eyes again as his orgasm hits, warm cum splattering over you - painting your chest, your throat, ropes of his release on your lips and cheeks. 

You’re both breathing heavy, trembling, but Yunho clears the fog with a shake of his head and he releases his tight hold on your hair, easing you down to the bedding. He slips out from under you, dipping off the edge of the bed and you watch as he pulls his boxers back up and darts into the master bathroom and back out again, a damp washcloth in his hands. 

He’s sweaty, his neck and cheeks still dark pink, and you smile up at him as he kneels on the bed to get closer to you. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, “relax, let me clean you up,”

Your mind feels mushy and delicious even though you haven’t even come, and all you can manage is to hum a soft, affirmative response as he quickly wipes away his release from your skin. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, taking stock of your body language, your facial expression, how you’re feeling in the bond, before tossing the towel aside and laying down to be eye level with you. 

“Jagi,” He says softly, fingertips gentle on your jaw, “are you alright?” 

“Mhm,” You nod lazily. 

“I know that was big,” He massages your jaw with light pressure, “tell me how you’re feeling,” 

Words still feel distant, almost foreign, and you blink, “Good,” you manage. 

His lips turn up on one side, “Floaty?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, and you don’t know how he picked out the perfect word for how you’re feeling but he did. 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, “I got you, baby.” 

He wraps you up in his arms again but keeps his eyes on your face, guiding you through whatever soft, blissful feeling you’re swimming through. 

“Love you so much,” He whispers as he kisses your forehead. 

Little by little, your body and your mind seem to come back online, and finally you blink up at him, “Was that okay?” 

“It was amazing,” He assures you, “you’re amazing,” 

You smile, feeling strangely shy. You’ve never done something quite so intimate, never surrendered control like that. You’ve always liked men to be a little bossy, and you’ve loved how direct and vocal Yunho is when you have sex, but this was something altogether more intense and you’ve never felt safer or more held by him. 

His fingers slip into your hair again, massaging your tender scalp, “Was I too rough at all?” 

“No,” You breathe, “just right,” 

He smiles at your expression and nods, “Good,” 

“You feel better?” You manage. 

“Mhm,” He huffs a small laugh as if to say it’s obvious, but then he directs the attention back to you, “did you like that?” 

“A lot,” You confess. 

He grins this time, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, leaning your head back unconsciously into his hand, “you were so gentle,” 

“Good,” He softens, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, “I love you,” 

“Love you too,” You sigh. 

Yunho gently lets you relax back down onto your back before he slides off the bed again, “I’m going to start the bath for you, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “that sounds nice.” 

“I’ll be just in there, okay?” He nods towards the bathroom, “I’ll come get you in a minute,” 

“Okay,” 

He gives you another smile, and then disappears through the bathroom door. 

For a minute you take stock of your body. You feel relaxed down to your very core, something about the way Yunho held you and touched you during the blowjob felt primal, essential. You stretch out your limbs against the mattress, listening to the steady pour of the water from the next room, and by the time you sit up in the bed you feel strangely proud. It feels like a new chapter, maybe even an entirely new book. 

You pull yourself off the bed and right the sheets, and your eyes catch on Yunho’s phone. 

The rest of the world was undoubtedly talking about you both right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not after that. You take your phone and his and place them both face down on the bedside table, and resolve not to look at them again until much, much later. Whatever the world was saying would have to wait. 

You step into the doorway of the bathroom and smile when you see him again, pangs of your own arousal thrumming back through you. 

Yunho’s crouched by the side of the large, deep porcelain tub, his hand under the steady stream of water to gauge the temperature. 

“Almost ready?” You ask him. 

His head turns a little at the sound of your voice, “Yeah,” he says, “how are you feeling?” 

“Honestly? Kind of amazing,” You say. 

“Good,” He sighs. 

With a smile, you pull your sleep top off. 

Yunho passes his hand through the water in the tub, “it’s a little warm,” 

“I like warm,” You let your top fall to the floor and tug on the drawstring of your pants. 

His back is still to you as he adjusts the temperature of the water one last time. 

While he’s not looking you push your pants down and kick them away, your underwear right along with them, so that when he turns back around you’re naked and standing in the bathroom doorway. 

“I think if you want,” He starts to say as he looks up, but the words die on his lips and his eyes rake over you in an instant. 

“If I want what?” You smile, stepping into the room properly. 

“Want what?” He fumbles over his words, brow creased with confusion as he meets your eyes again. 

“Flustered,” You tease him, “that’s cute, you’ve seen me naked before,” 

He recovers, smirking and reaching for you, “It really does not get old,” he says, “now come here and let me touch you,” 

“Yeah?” You can’t help but take your sweet time, loving his hot eyes on you, the way his voice gets deeper when he sees you like this. 

He takes two steps towards you, pulling off his white t-shirt and letting it drop to the floor beside your discarded clothes, “I said, come here,” he murmurs as he gently tugs you into his space, “and let me touch you.” 

His hands travel over you slowly, lovingly. 

For a split second you think of the world outside, your phones on the nightstand, and you dip closer to press yourself against his bare chest, soaking up the feeling of so much skin on skin. 

“Hey,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, “you okay?” 

You nod, “I’m good,” 

“You sure?” He checks, feeling the sudden pangs of tension in your chest. 

“Yeah,” You kiss his bare chest, “I just thought about everything else for a second,” 

“Mm,” He hums, a hand softly in your hair, “I got you, let’s just relax,” 

He draws you to the edge of the bath and checks the water once again, but you’re already reaching in, finding the water just the right amount of hot. He’s shucking off his boxers as you straighten back up to tie up your hair.

“Perfect,” You step directly into the water. 

Yunho’s hand settles under your elbow, “Careful,” 

“Babe,” You chastise him lightly, but if you’re being honest the affection in his voice and his tender care with you is something you could never really tire of, not when it’s him. 

“I don’t want you to slip,” He admits, stepping in behind you until you’re both standing in the center of the deep basin of water. 

“Mhm,” You start to say more, but his arms wrap around you loosely, his body nestled close to yours. 

“Look at that,” He says, nodding towards the floor to ceiling window along one wall of the bathroom. 

You look back up at the view and any teasing thoughts slip out of your mind. It’s beautiful, a private view only for your eyes, hidden away from the world entirely. The dark rocky beach outside leads right into the bright blue ocean, a little slice of heaven tucked away along the coastline in Jeju. 

“Now this,” You sigh, “this feels like a honeymoon,” 

Yunho kisses your shoulder, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” 

He kisses you again and then shifts back to sit down in the bath and you sink down into the water with him. His hands slide across your body and draw you back so that you’re settled between his open legs, your back resting on his chest. 

“Not too hot?” He asks. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head against the broad plane of his shoulder. 

Tangled together in the warmth of the water you rest, letting the tension in your muscles unspool, watching the waves surge against the rocks outside. For a while you just let it be, his arms wrapped around you in the cocoon of the water, fingertips grazing gently along your skin. 

“It looks like rain,” He finally says softly. 

You nod, “A storm,” 

“That’s alright,” He kisses your hair, “we don’t have anywhere to be,” 

You soften in his embrace, cuddled against him, “True,” you murmur, “just here.” 

“Tonight,” He says, “I’m thinking, movies on the couch? The TV out there is huge we could set it up like a theater,” 

“Like a sleepover,” You smile.

“Great idea,”

 “We’ll bring the pillows and duvet out,” You say, “oh, and snacks,” 

You feel his happiness, his contented warmth through the bond, “I love it,” 

Turning your head, you catch his bicep with a quick kiss, “This house is so nice, this is like rich rich.” 

He hums, gathering you a little closer, “Yeah,” he nods, “do you like it?” 

“It’s nice,” You tell him honestly, “this view is crazy,” 

A few birds cut across the darkening sky, the waves rougher against the rocks, but inside it’s perfectly silent and warm. 

He huffs a little laugh against your hair, “You want a house like this?” 

You shake your head immediately, “That’s crazy,” 

“Why?” He kisses your hair. 

“Yunho,” You nudge him gently with your elbow. 

“Yeobo,” He says affectionately, amusement in his voice, “I have money,” 

“Not this much money,” You laugh. 

He’s quiet, not laughing along like you’d expect, and then he clears his throat, “I do, actually,”  

You turn your head, twisting to see his face, “What?” 

“Uh,” He blushes a little, “well yeah, when I was eighteen my father helped me set up a few funds for myself, a way to keep my salary set aside as a nest egg and then some investments.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Now that I’m sure we won’t have to pay back any debts, and we’ll start getting properly compensated for the albums,” He smiles, “well, if I don’t have enough to buy this house today, I’ll have it in a year or two.” 

“Fuck,” You blink, the curse slipping out. 

He laughs, his head dropping to lean his forehead against your hair, “Did you think I was completely broke?” 

“You always hear about idols who never get their paychecks,” You counter, “like five years in and they don’t have a cent,” 

He shakes his head, lifting up to meet your eyes, “Well, I’m definitely not broke,” he smiles, “I like that you married me anyways, though,” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the chest, water sloshing around you, “Shut up,” 

He grins, “So,” he gestures with a jerk of his head to the room, “you want a house like this someday?” 

“This?” You shake your head, “This place is too much,” 

He looks amused at that idea. 

“Do you want a house like this?” 

He shrugs, “We could,” 

“You’re serious,” You laugh, still wide eyed in surprise. 

“You’re cute,” He kisses your lips once, before shifting you back to your reclined position in his arms against his chest, “you really thought I was broke,” 

“I don’t know,” You grumble, finding his hand under the water and thoughtlessly playing with his fingers. 

He smiles against your hair, and the sky outside opens up with rain. For a few moments you both rest together again, and then he murmurs a soft question, “y/n,” he says, “before Berlin, what did you imagine for your life?” 

 “My life?” You turn your head a little, your cheek against his wet chest. 

“Mhm,” He hums, the warm vibration of his tone running through you, “did you have big career dreams? A house in the country? You’ve never said,” 

You smile, your eyes locked on his wedding band and yours under the water, “I don’t know,” you confess, “for a long time I was just focused on making it out of my house, and then focused on protecting Hana,” 

He strokes your arm gently, listening quietly. 

“I imagined finding my soulmate someday,” You murmur, “and I love Seoul, I think it would be hard to leave the city. I love my life there, and my work is definitely suited for it,” 

“Mm,” He nods. 

“I don’t know,” You confess, “I just want a place of our own, somewhere we can make memories, I’ve never really worried about how big or how nice it would be,”

“I’d like that,” He murmurs. 

Your eyes drift shut and you think about your life, the images you played in your mind over and over while you waited for his call at Hana and Em’s. 

“I’d like a garden,” You continue, “and a nice kitchen. I’m not the best cook, but I’d like to learn,” 

Yunho’s hand laces with yours and he brings them up out of the water to kiss your knuckles, “What else?” 

“Hmm,” You shiver at the cool air in the room and he wraps you up, “a big bed, you’re so tall.” 

He laughs. 

Your stomach flip flops and you let your eyes open, finding your rings again before you confess a little more, “Maybe some extra bedrooms,” 

Yunho’s breath catches, his body stiffening behind you, “Yeah?” His voice is small, tentative as he searches for your meaning. 

You swallow tightly, a nervous bubble in your chest, “Enough space to grow into,” your voice nearly a whisper, “if we want a family?” 

He’s quiet, but his lips drop to rest on the crown of your head. He takes in a slow breath and then says, “How many extra bedrooms do you think we’ll need?” 

Warmth floods the bond, unfettered tenderness in your chest, “Maybe two?” 

Yunho squeezes your hand, “Two’s great, two’s perfect,” 

“You think so?” Your smile grows. 

He nods, “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“Someday,” You kiss his arm again. 

“Someday,” He agrees, his hand coming to rest over your soulmark, his palm warm over the sensitive skin of your looping red tattoo. 

You hum pleasantly as he kisses your forehead, your eyes drifting shut with a sigh. For a minute, you just listen to the rain against the window, your hearts syncing up their rhythms. The water laps around you with every little movement, relaxing you both into a pliant, warm mess of limbs. 

Yunho shifts behind you, and then the hand over your soulmark shifts, and you gasp lightly as it closes over your breast, kneading the soft flesh with gentle firmness. 

“Oh,” You exhale, “that’s nice,” 

“Mhm,” He squeezes your breast again, fingers teasing gently at your nipple while his opposite hand drifts down your belly, a promising descent towards your parted thighs. 

Your body responds instantly, heat reigniting to the surface. 

“I think it’s your turn,” He murmurs. 

You nod against his chest. 

“Let me take care of you, pretty girl,” He says as his finger curls over your mound and dips into your slick folds. 

“Oh, yes,” You sigh, letting your legs fall open a little more, your knees pressing against Yunho’s inner thighs. 

“Mm,” He slides his fingers over your clit, “you’re wet,” 

You can feel that you’re slippery from how easily he’s touching you, the bath water not enough to dull how much you want him, and you nod. 

“Are you that easy?” He says appreciatively, “Or have you been wet this whole time?” 

You moan as he rocks his fingers, “Whole time,” 

“Sucking my cock got you wet?” He teases. 

You nod, your legs straining to open wider despite the lack of space in the tub. 

“Look at you squirming,” He dips his head, nudging your face to the side so he can kiss your temple. 

“Feels good,” You sigh, your hips twitching to chase the stroke of his fingers as he rubs you. 

Yunho pulls his fingers away from your aching cunt and you suck in a sharp breath, “Relax,” he nips at your ear, “I’ll make you come,”

“But,” You manage, breathless already. 

“Let me touch you,” His hands feel heavier on your body this time, dragging up your stomach, over your sides, cupping your breasts in his large hands. 

You buck as his fingers tease at your nipples. 

“So sensitive,” He comments softly, “I wonder if you could come just from this?” 

“From this?” You gasp sharply as his fingers flick back and forth over your hardening nipples. 

Pleasure arcs through you, molten and throbbing from your chest down to your clit, and you grip down on his thighs. 

“That good?” He adjusts, leaning forwards a bit so he can kiss down your neck, sucking over your pulse point as he teases your nipples. 

You whine sharply, hips bucking on their own, “Oh, god,” 

He squeezes both your breasts again and groans, “Oh, baby,” he sighs, “one of these days I’m going to spend all night playing with these perfect tits,” 

“Please,” You pant, but what you really need is his fingers on your clit again. 

“Mm,” He drags his hands down, exploring your body under the water again, “I want to do everything with you,” 

“Yeah,” You breath, head lolling back onto his chest again, “yes,” 

Yunho’s hands settle on your hips, and then they stop. 

An involuntary whimper bubbles out of you and your hips rock, looking for some kind of touch, some friction. 

He takes in a slow, steady breath and then exhales against your temple, “What do you want, jagi?” 

Your hand searches for his, trying to tug it down between your open thighs, “You know what I want,” 

“Do I?” You can feel his smirk against your skin. 

Yunho lets you move his hand, pushing it into the right place over your slit, but he doesn’t move at all. You press down over his hand, trying to get his fingers back in the right spot, “Yunho,” you whine.

“Ask me nicely,” He says simply, “ask for what you want, and I’ll do it.” 

“Touch me,” You beg. 

“I am touching you,” He squeezes your hip. 

“Yunho,” 

“Ask me nicely,” He enunciates every word, his lips against your ear. 

Your heartbeat picks up, hammering in your chest. This side of him brings out something in you that you never understood before, but now you don’t know if you could feel this good any other way. 

“I already know what you want,” He murmurs, “I want to hear you ask for it,” 

You swallow tightly, “Please, Yunho,” you say, “will you make me come?” 

He smiles against your ear, “How?” 

Your nails dig into his skin, “Rub my clit,” 

“Uh huh,” He nods, prompting you. 

“Please,” You correct, realizing what he wants to hear, “Will you rub my clit, please?” 

“Of course, baby,” He teases, and all at once he starts to play your body like an instrument. 

His fingers shift over your clit, circling with perfect, firm pressure, and his other hand slides up your body, his fingers splayed wide over your chest and pinning you in place to his shoulder. 

You arch into him, one hand flying out of the water to grip the side of the tub, “Oh, fuck,” 

“There you go,” He says low against your forehead, “does that feel good?” 

“So good,” You shudder in his arms, “don’t stop,” 

“Not gonna stop,” He promises, his fingers sliding through your slick slit to gather more wetness, doubling his efforts on your clit. 

Your eyes slam shut, your body rocking against him as he cages you in, and you feel the stiff length of his cock nudging at your back the longer you writhe against him, the only sounds in the room, your echoing moans and the rhythmic slosh of the water. 

“Love you like this,” He groans, his hand sliding up to the base of your throat, “who knew my soulmate would be such a needy, filthy girl?” 

Pressure tightens in your gut, “God, oh god,” 

“And so good for me,” He sighs, rolling his fingers faster, “you like being told what to do, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” Your mind is starting to fray at the edges, only pleasure and his voice and the warm water. 

Yunho leans forwards in the tub, sitting up properly and slipping the hand that was on your throat under the water and between your legs. You’re not ready for the sensation of two of his fingers pushing inside you, and you gasp, your hand slipping on the porcelain lip of the tub, your body snapping forwards. 

“Ah, ah,” He’s quick to catch you, pulling his fingers out and bracing you back against his chest, “careful, babygirl,” 

You can’t say a word, your body too close to the edge. Your hips rut with needy, artless jerks into the firm press of his fingers, and you reach back to grip onto his shoulder, a whimper on your lips. 

“Suck,” He says suddenly, pressing two of his fingers through your lips, and you accept them with ease, “good girl, good girl,” 

You taste yourself on his fingers, lips closing instinctively just like he wanted you to, and through the dizzy haze of your almost orgasm you suck, taking them heavy on your tongue. 

He groans, his breath hot on your ear. 

Whimpering, your legs jerk with a spasm of sensation, just a little more and you’ll tip right over. 

Yunho laughs, amusement in his voice at how quickly you’re following his every direction, “Oh,” he drags out the sound to tease you, “needy girl,” 

You whine, clinging to his slick shoulder. 

“Come like that, just like that,” He says, “suck on my fingers while you come,” 

You inhale sharply through your nose, head digging into his shoulder as you arch, “Mm, mm!”

“There it is,” He pants, rubbing your clit faster, “there it is, come on, sweetheart, come for me,” 

Your orgasm slams into you, and you shudder in his arms, your body jerking so sharply that water sloshes over the side of the bath, but he just stays focused and works you through it. 

You jerk your head and he pulls his fingers free as you moan out the broken sound of his name. 

“I got you,” He kisses whatever part of your skin he can reach at this angle, “I got you, that’s it,” 

When his fingers finally slow, your brain is buzzing. You’re slumped lower in the water, your legs clamped together and bent at the knees, and you're shaking from your top to your toes. 

“Holy shit,” Yunho breathes, his hands finding your waist to pull you back up out of the water and against his chest again. 

You manage a nod, but your chest is still heaving. 

He kisses the side of your head hard and chuckles, “I think you have an oral fixation,” 

His words don’t sink through the cottony afterglow of your brain though, “Hmm?” 

“Nothing,” He smiles, “not a thing,” 

You feel the hard nudge of his cock against your lower back, and you twist in the bath, more water sloshing over the sides as you follow the needy pull inside you, finding his mouth, “Kiss me,” 

He groans against your lips, his tongue flicking against yours. 

“I want you,” You confess, trying to turn around despite the tangle of his long legs, “please,” 

He nods, but pushes you back, “Let’s go to bed, the bath isn’t big enough for that,” 

“Yeah,” You slide backwards in the tub through the water, and try to stand but find your legs still a little weak. 

“Hang on,” He holds a hand out to you, keeping you in place. 

He climbs out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel from a hook on the wall and tossing it down on the wet floor to keep you both from slipping, and then he locates two luxuriously fluffy looking white robes and smiles down at you, “Here, baby,” 

He pulls his robe on first, and then holds one out to you, slipping it on you as you get out of the tub. You wrap the robe around yourself, tying the cord, but before you can dry off properly, Yunho pulls you into his arms, one arm under your knees as he carries you. 

A startled noise slips out and you laugh, “Yunho!” 

“You’re still shaking,” He says, stepping back into the master bedroom, “I’m just helping,” 

He tucks you both into bed despite your still wet skin, yanking the fluffy duvet up over both of you until you’re completely encased under the covers with him. He tugs you close, wrapping his arms around you until you’re chest to chest, nose to nose. 

You laugh softly, “What are you doing?” 

“Warming you up,” He murmurs, rubbing up and down your back, “you’re shivering,” 

You reach up, looping your arms around his shoulders and diving into another kiss. His hands on your back slow, fingers gripping down as the kiss heats up again, and you pull yourself closer to touch more of him. 

Your robe parts open naturally as your legs tangle together, and Yunho slips a hand underneath to cup your ass, groaning into your mouth as you buck against him. You lose yourselves in the kiss, more skin starting to press together, and your heart beats hard in your chest, the heat between you building in steady waves. 

“Love kissing you,” He pants before dipping his tongue back into your mouth. 

Something between a sigh and a moan slips from your lips and you nod, “Love you,” 

His hand travels, sliding up to lock down on your hip. 

Your body’s thrumming, the orgasm in the bath only enough to settle your need for him for a few moments. Tucked away with him like this, the warm air of your shared breath, just the sounds of your bodies together, it’s enough to make you wish this were your whole life. Rich, tucked away on the coastline, only the two of you, no amount of days together enough to sate this hunger in your belly.  

His hand slips between your bodies where your stomach presses into his, and he finds the tie of your robe, pulling at just the right angle for the knot to come undone and the fabric to fall slack around your body. 

“Mm,” You slip a hand into his robe, gripping his firm ass, “please,” 

His hot eyes flick over you, settling on your face, “You need it?” 

“Yes,” You breathe. 

“Hold onto me,” He says as he kisses you once more, and then he hikes your leg up by your knee to hook over his hip, opening you up wide. 

You grip down on his shoulders, “Yes, yes,” 

Reaching between your bodies he pushes his robe open and directs his hard length into your slick heat, no amount of hesitation in the way he pushes into you. Once his cock catches, he secures a hand back on your ass and drags you down as he thrusts, sheathing himself deep inside you. 

You moan at the familiar stretch, “Oh, Yunho,” 

“Baby,” He shivers, “god,” 

Without another word, you sink into each other. Your lips connecting in a crash, tongues tangling as you moan into him. Using his shoulders and your leg hitched over his hip to secure yourself to him, you start to roll your body.  Yunho curses, hips snapping into a steady rhythm, his hands anchored on your naked skin and pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke. 

It’s needy, frantic, and you wonder distantly if there will ever be a time that sex with him doesn’t feel like an all consuming wildfire in your veins. This time there’s nothing to say, no teasing, no dirty talk, just both of you moving hungrily together, every kiss bringing you higher and higher as his cock spears you open. 

You fuck like this until Yunho changes the tempo, responding to the sound of your arden whimpers. 

Without breaking the kiss he rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so that you’re perched on his hips, the sudden position change pushing his cock in to the hilt. 

You moan sharply, the kiss disconnecting as you tremble over him, “Oh my f-fuck,” 

His hands grip your hips, “You’re so tight,” 

Heat floods your brain, and you scramble to sit upright, your robe falling off your shoulders. You shove it off, pushing it to the side, and then pull open the tie on Yunho’s robe, getting it open so you can see all of him. 

“C’mere,” Yunho mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together, “god, you’re beautiful,” 

Your cunt clenches around him. 

“Yes,” He nods, pupils blown with desire as he looks up at you, “ride me,” 

Using his hands as your balance, you lean into it, hooking your feet over his muscular thighs. You bounce on him slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of how deep inside you his cock connects every time you drop down, but once you have it, you let yourself get lost in it. 

His eyes flick from your face down to the connection of your bodies, and his plush lips part as he watches his cock disappear all the way into your slick sex again and again. 

“Good girl,” He sighs, squeezing your hands, “that’s it, baby, keep fucking yourself on my cock,” 

You gasp sharply, pleasure blooming inside you, his and yours all at once in a tangled mess of want. 

“Oh god,” Your thighs are aching, but you keep going, up and down with every breath, the sound of your bodies wet and messy. 

“Say my name,” He pants. 

You crumble a little, shoulders caving in but he holds you steady with his hands, “Yunho,” you moan, “Yunho, Yunho,” 

“That’s right,” He says, nodding up at you, “tell me how good it feels, babygirl,” 

“S-so good,” You can feel it building, knotting in your belly, “love your cock,” 

“Yeah?” He groans, his head pressing back into the pillows. 

“Yes, yes,” You grip his hands harder. 

“Don’t stop,” His eyes find yours, “ride me until you’re coming all over this dick, baby,” 

You fall forwards, pressing his hands back into the mattress, and your brain shorts. In a breath you’re dropping down your hips so that he’s fully buried inside you, a cry on your lips as you start to grind against him. 

Yunho disconnects your hands and you collapse on his chest, your head over his shoulder, lips against his throat, your body just jerking and grinding against him as you chase your pleasure. 

He hisses, his arms banding around you, “Fuck, pretty girl,” 

You whimper into him, “Need it,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, turning his head to yours, “I got you,” 

“Close,” 

He holds you to his chest, his lips at your forehead, “Come for me, sweetheart,” 

“Oh, god,” You grind down on him harder, endlessly rolling your hips, faster and faster as your body tightens. 

“You’re all mine,” He soothes, “aren’t you, gorgeous girl?” 

“All yours,” You babble into his skin. 

He groans, his hips jerking under you just once, but he holds himself still so you can take what you need. 

It comes over you fast, and you fall apart into needy shakes above him, biting down on his shoulder as your body breaks open. Sucking in a sharp breath, he adjusts his legs under you, and with a few hurried thrusts into your spasming cunt, he spills himself hot and deep inside you. 

“Perfect girl,” He presses kisses over your face, holding you to his chest, “love you so much,” 

You’re still panting, out of breath, but you nod, “L-love you,” 

You fall asleep in a tangle of sheets, his cock still deep in you, his hands stroking a tender line down your back. 

The world outside, completely forgotten. 

Nothing but you and Yunho and your makeshift honeymoon suite. 

**remember to continue on to section 2!

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter four)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 4/?

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: 6.3k (🫠)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: thank you for your patience while i got my shit together (christmas edition). enjoy, this filth seems to get longer with each chapter. i’ll be gone for a few weeks over the holidays, so no chapter updates for a bit, but have no doubt i’ll be back for more in the new year &lt;;33

Coriolanus Snow was not a patient man. He’d played the long game enough times in his climb to the top of Panem to know that once he got up there, he wouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines anymore, waiting for life to happen to him. He would take what he wanted from whoever he wanted, with no delay.

Who were you to tell him what he could and couldn’t have? Who were you to deny him, walking away like you’d won, like you’d just played him like a fiddle and left him out in the dust? He replayed your self-satisfied smile as you disappeared from his view and he stood there, considering his options. The most tempting would be to follow you back to your room, to shove you up against a wall, to tear off his jacket and watch that smug look melt right off your face.

The second would’ve been to send for the whore, but it would’ve been a cheap thrill and besides, you’d made a point of getting rid of her.

He’d almost had you, he could see it. Could see the quiver in your lip as your blown-out eyes had rolled open, before you’d climbed off his lap. He was certain that if he chipped away at enough of your resolve, you’d give in. The thought of having to work for this incensed him, who were you to make demands from the President himself?

But the calculating part of his brain decided, with disdain, that he would have to be patient for once. He doubted you could go very long before giving into him; he’d seen it in your eyes, it had taken everything in you to leave him that night.

You wanted to go on a power trip? Fine. Snow knew it would be short lived, and you were making enough of a spectacle of yourself that it should prove entertaining to him. He decided he was going to let you have your fun, brief and fleeting as it may be. He always did enjoy a chase, and he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

You wanted to play? Fine.

He closed his door, leaving it unlocked.

Let the games begin.

Breakfast was a sweet kind of torture. You’d wrapped a short, silk dressing gown around your underwear set from the night before, confident after your first good night’s sleep in weeks. Headed downstairs early, so you could be there when he walked in.

“Morning, sweetie.” You smiled as you sipped at a cup of coffee.

Snow’s eyes narrowed. He sat opposite you without a word, pouring himself a cup and buttering a piece of toast. His morning paper was neatly folded on the side, and you eyed it quickly, before taking him in.

It was subtle – something probably only you could pick up on, knowing what you did – but it was there, in the slight crinkle of his usually perfect shirt, in the way he took coffee instead of tea, in the way he focused carefully on spreading the butter to every edge of his slice of toast. You glanced down again, a mischievous sense of pride filling you up.

You’d gotten under his skin.

Finally.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know about you, but I slept like a log. You?”

His eyes met yours heatedly, but he didn’t reply. One of his footmen stood posted by the door, eyes straight ahead.

“No?” You faked pity. “You look a little tired, Coriolanus. Rough night?”

Nothing. He didn’t respond to your taunts, but instead took his paper, unfolding it, and you watched intently with a glint in your eye as you saw him react to something slipping out of the pages and into his lap.

He let out a surprised scoff, lowered the paper, and looked straight at you. Your eyebrows raised in response.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, with a lilt in your voice.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady.

“Leave us, please.” He said to the footman, without breaking off his stare once. The footman obliged, closing the door behind him. His eyes bored into you with a similar intensity as they had the night before.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He asked, but it was flat like a statement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyes, feigning innocence.

He lifted his hand from his lap, holding up the pair of white lace panties you’d tucked between the folds of his newspaper. Raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Oh,” you smiled. “Whoops. I’d been wondering where I left those.”

His stare remained unfaltering, and you rubbed your legs together.

“Very cute, sweetheart.”

You smirked.

“You think so? Just something to remember me by. Lucille said you’ll be gone until tomorrow for work, I wouldn’t want you forgetting about last night.”

His eyes darkened, never leaving yours as you stood, making your way down the table.

“It’s a shame, really. I feel a little guilty about what I did. I got you all worked up for nothing.”

He scoffed, watching as you got closer.

“Yeah, you seem all torn up about it.”

You hummed, reaching him, and nodded at his lap, where his hand gripped the white lace.

“May I?”

“Be my guest.” He said tightly.

You straddled his lap again, and he looked up at you. You felt another surge of that power, standing over him with very little between you, as you ran your palms over his jacket, smoothing it out, then plucking the white rose from his breast pocket, and tucking your panties inside. As you pushed the rose back in, you smiled, satisfied.

“I should be more careful about misplacing things,” you mused, “Could’ve sworn I threw those in the laundry. You want to know something funny?”

“What?” Snow watched your hand pull away, and you met his gaze again.

“I’m not even sure I’m wearing a pair right now.”

It happened so quickly, it knocked the breath out of you. One second, you were balanced with your legs either side of his, and the next, you were pushed back onto the table as he stood, grabbing your waist, and leaning over you. A plate shattered on the floor, but Coriolanus didn’t flinch.

You squirmed but he gripped your hips harder, sliding one hand up to support your back and stop you from toppling straight onto the table. The cold wood pressed into your bare legs, and a glass dug into your back. You realised with a shaky breath that your dressing gown had fallen open. He was stood flush between your legs, pinning you down.  

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snapped.

“I told you, didn’t I?” A hum as his hips rolled into yours. “Whatever I want.”

“I could force your hand, you know.” He commented. “Right now.”

“You think I wouldn’t want you to?”

His face was unreadable. His head dipped towards yours, and when he spoke it brushed against your lips.  

“You really are a whore.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I know you’re all bark and no bite. You want to know why I know that, Snow?”

He huffed.

“Why?”

“Because I think you like chasing me.” Your eyes lowered to your legs, pressed apart by his hips. Your ankles wrapped around his lower back and pressed him in further. His jaw clenched.

He followed your gaze, and you felt his breath hitch when he saw that you weren’t lying, there was nothing between the two of you except his pants.  

“Fuck.” He whispered.

It did something to you, hearing him so desperate. You pulled him in again with your heels, and he looked back at you. He rocked his hips, velvet cloth rubbing against your bare cunt, and you gasped at the feeling, still sore from last night.

Any time now.

“You want to fuck me, Snow?” You whispered. “Do it. Right now, I won’t stop you.”

His breaths were heavy as he rocked his hips again, firm, and it was obscene, really, how you could feel the outline of his cock pushing against you through the thick material, and his breath was getting laboured.

Almost there.

“Knew you’d give in.” His voice was rough as he pressed in harder, and you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, “So fucking desperate. Didn’t expect you to open your legs this soon, though. Thought you’d rile me up for a few days first. But look at you,” he rambled, “giving up so easily. Where’s all that fight now, sweetheart?”

A loud rap sounded at the door.

There it is.

You couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across your face as he stopped still.

“Oh,” you blinked innocently at him, “I wonder who that could be.”

“President Snow? We’re ready for you, sir.” The footman’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Well, would you look at the time? I guess duty calls, Mr President.”

He scowled, shooting ice cold daggers at you.

“You bitch. You knew.”

“And you fell for it.” You smirked, digging your heels into his back again. “Who’s desperate now?”

He scoffed, meeting your eye again.

“You think you’re so smart, little girl. You really think I’d mind if they walked in on me fucking you into the table?”

“I know you’re not against having an audience, Snow. But what are you gonna do, hang the health minister if he walks in? I know you’re not above it, but it’d be a slight inconvenience. Surely there are wiser ways to spend your precious time.”

“Yeah? Try me.”

His nails dug into your back as he pulled you in closer. For just a second, you had a doubt. But not long enough.

“I’m calling your bluff, Coriolanus Snow.”

He shook his head. Peeled himself off you with a huff, and tried to smooth out his shirt, glaring at you the whole time.

“I’ll be right out.” He called.

You slid off the table and stood, tying your gown, then reaching to fiddle with his collar. He batted your hand away.

“Let me.” You reached out again.

“Fine.”

Your hands smoothed over the material, straightening it out, then once you were satisfied, they rested on his chest for a beat.

“You look handsome.” You confessed quietly, not meeting his eye as you spoke. You could feel his stare burning into you as you did. When you finally looked, his expression had shifted to something unreadable again. Confusion, perhaps. It was times like these when you wished you could read his mind.

The moment finally passed and you cleared your throat, trailing a hand over his breast pocket, a physical reminder of the game you were intent on winning.

“This was fun.” You declared with a smile, putting the mask back on. “Hurry back. What time shall I expect you?”

“No later than noon.” He watched as you stepped away.

“I look forward to it,” you smiled, playing with the string of your gown, “sweetheart.”

With Snow out of the house, you jumped at the chance to head straight upstairs, making a beeline for his room. Something inside you just knew the door would be unlocked, that he wouldn’t be able to resist. You were right.

At last, you were able to take a good look around the room, touring it as if it was some art museum. And it wasn’t far from it; with wood panelled walls and strong beams on the ceiling, plush velvet throw pillows and bedsheets, with crisp white linen tucked underneath. You wandered around for a while, brushing your fingers over the sides, taking it all in. It was perfectly neat, almost jarringly so. You wondered if he always kept it like this, or if it was for your benefit. Since he’d probably guessed you’d be going inside, you took little guilt in peeking into a few drawers, and flipping through the pages of the book on his nightstand.

Your curiosity then took you into the bathroom, where, after scanning the shelves, you decided to undress and take a shower, steam and the smell of his soap filling the large room. You took the opportunity to slide your hands between your legs and replay the morning’s events, filling in what you’d have had liked to have happen instead of him leaving. When you were finished, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel, and walked out, spotting a glass bottle of cologne on the edge of the sink. With a smile, you gently sprayed a little on your wrist, breathing it in, sighing deeply as the smell of him went to your head.

You got dressed again, thumbing through his closet, basking in the buzz you had from being in his space. You sat on his bed, taking his room in from a new perspective. When you were satisfied, you headed back to your own with a smile, only coming back that evening with a handful of your things, before falling into a peaceful sleep under his sheets.

A few days passed after that morning, and you barely saw Snow. He’d come back, but gone straight to his office, where he proceeded to spend long hours on the phone, stuck on some important business you had no business nosing about.

So, you waited, your games paused and painfully anticlimactic. You hated feeling like a helpless housewife, but this was apparently what you’d been reduced to. You saw your friends some of the evenings, and your family on others. Then you’d come home to hover outside Snow’s locked study to listen to the sounds of pen on paper, peppered with the occasional sigh. You would have waited for him to come out, but you gave up as the hours drawing longer. He stayed holed up in his office, night after night, and by the time he’d finished the evening’s work, sleep had long carried you away.

It hadn’t all been dull; you’d fallen into a habit of sneaking pairs of your underwear in with the clean laundry that was carried up to his room, and that had earned you a little attention, but it was merely in passing. A few heated glances at the dinner table, a brush past each other in the hallway. You’d go so far as to say it was almost like flirting, only laced with the undertones of something far heavier. It wasn’t enough for you now that you’d tasted what you could have if only you reached for it, and you started to go a little stir crazy again.

One of these nights, you’d slipped into his empty room after dark, and lay in his bed, trying to stay awake as long as you could, but sleep caught up to you and by morning, you woke alone, wrapped in soft sheets, no sign of Snow except for a slightly warm dent on his side of the bed that had long been abandoned.

You got nothing. Not a touch, not an argument, not a kiss. For a week and a half, until he was called away again. Your annoyance had started to creep back up on you tenfold by then, and you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You saw your family for dinner more and more, making a habit out of filling the empty space he'd left with small talk and laughter. It was on one such night, when you'd been silently mulling over what move to make next, that your mother mentioned a name you hadn't heard in years, and you knew right away what to do. You were done hiding away, you wanted to make yourself known. Make every second Snow spent in your presence a living hell, and a reminder of what you’d denied him. You'd hoped for something outrageous, something that would push him to the very edge. And if this didn't work, nothing would.

Nathaniel Greene was an old flame of yours. He’d always been good to you, warm and well-meaning; and he was handsome, in a gentle, boyish way. When your mother mentioned him, a beautifully cruel idea struck you. You weren’t naturally as cold-hearted as Coriolanus, but as the weeks had gone by, you’d begun to believe that maybe, in order to win this, you needed to be. Nathaniel would be perfect; the two of you had been school friends, you had history, something Snow couldn’t compete with, and you knew that would drive him insane. He was all soft edges, smiles, and pleasantries, everything that Snow wasn’t.

You felt a sliver of guilt as you began putting your plan together, but you reasoned that you and Snow had bruised each other, and low blows were what it would take for you to press into his the hardest. This was always never going to be simple; it was a messy game, and you needed to get your hands dirty.

Besides, he’d paraded a whore around the house for you to watch him fucking for weeks on end. It was fair game, you reminded yourself. So with that decided, you rose to the occasion, and the plan was set into motion.

That was how it came to be that on the day Snow returned, he walked in to find a guest sat in his living room. You were all false smiles and batted eyelashes when you saw him.

“Coriolanus, you’re back. I’d like you to meet Nathaniel, he and I used to be friends at school.”

Nathaniel rose from his seat on the sofa, and leaned toward Snow to shake his hand.

“Mr President, sir, it’s an absolute honor to be in your company. You have a lovely house.”

Nathaniel missed the slight tick in Snow’s jaw, but you didn’t. He offered his hand in response.

“The pleasure’s mine. Any… friend of my girl is always welcome here.”

My girl. The words went straight to your head, and Coriolanus pulled you in for a kiss that lingered half a second longer than usual, like he knew.

“Would you like some tea, sweetheart?” You asked, “Nathaniel and I were just catching up.”

“I remember that summer.” You laughed. “Your aunt took us to the coast, and we swam in the ocean at least twice a day. It was so cold one morning, your cousin’s lips turned blue. And on the way home, we had to stop at that inn, do you remember it?”

“With the owner and his crazy beard.”

“The crazy beard owner!” you exclaimed. “And the room you and I stayed in was so laughably small, the bed touched three of the walls all at once. Cozy, though.”

Nathaniel glanced awkwardly between the two of you, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, those were, uh… good times.”

Fire ran rampant through Snow’s eyes. You didn’t look directly at him, but your peripherals gave you plenty of satisfaction.

He was enraged. Good. You’d been mercilessly torturing him for the better part of an hour.

“Oh, Nathaniel, that reminds me, I’ll go get the book I was telling you about earlier.”

“Book?” He frowned, “I don’t-”

“You know the one! I’ll be right back.” You interrupted, then practically bounced out of your seat and walked toward the library. At the far end of the large room, you paused, pretending earnestly to scan the spines for a particular title.

You were quiet, making sure you could hear the echo of Snow excusing himself, followed by steady footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Something wrong?” You asked, keeping your back turned.

He grabbed your waist and spun you around. Backed you up until you were pressed to the wall, wooden shelves digging into your spine.

“Give me one good reason,” he spat, “why I shouldn’t kill that boy right now.”

You blinked.

“What’s wrong, Snow? Can’t take a little jealousy? Surprising, given your recent choice of company.”

“So that’s it? All this to get a rise out of me? You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.” he scoffed.

You smiled, meeting his eye.

“Oh, but maybe I should. See, Coriolanus, here’s the thing.” you leaned towards him, running a finger down the front of his dress shirt, catching over each shining button as it glided down. “I haven’t decided if I should fuck him, yet. What do you think I should do?”

“I think,” he snarled, grabbing your wrists and pressing them against the wooden shelves, then dropping his voice down to a whisper, his breath mixing with yours, “that I should fuck you right here while he listens in the next room, and show him who you really belong to.”

You faltered, if only for a few moments. Your pride wavering as you heard the want drip from his voice, still getting used to his eyes skating across your skin the way you’d hoped and prayed they would for months. If you wanted it, you could take it right now, and you almost folded. He moved in ever closer, and your head dropped against the bookshelf, letting his lips graze your neck, blonde curls dusting your shoulder. You stayed there, suspended, letting it roll over you like water.

“What would your little friend in there think, if he could hear how much of a whore you really are? I wouldn’t even let you cover your mouth. I’d just hike up your slutty little dress and send you back out there with cum dripping down your thighs. How do you think he’d like you then?”

Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes closed, pressing your legs together. Tried to rationalise the logic of throwing your plans to the wind and letting him stake his claim on you.

You considered it. Briefly.

But you were already in so deep, you had to see this through. Snow had fucked with you, then left you out to dry, and you had to make sure he would never do it again. So no, you wouldn’t be the one to fold. He would, on your terms. And now wasn’t the time, not yet.

So you collected yourself. Pulled away, batting your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh, but I’m having so much fun.”

“Don’t test me. You’ve proved your point.” he seethed, stepping closer, and one more inch and you might burst-

“Nathaniel’s waiting. I’ll see you at dinner, Coriolanus.”

With that, you slipped away, silently catching your breath.

You’d just finished dinner alone, no Snow in sight, and you were walking back towards the hallway when the doors swung open.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your hands were above your head as Snow pushed you into the dining room wall. This was starting to become a habit. A sly smile pulled at your lips.

“Stings, doesn’t it? Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

He got in close, rage burning hot in his eyes.

“What you did was different, and you know that."

"I don't know, Coriolanus, was it? I've just been so bored, lately. Idle hands, I suppose."

If looks could kill, you'd be a goner.

"That's your excuse? At least I had the decency to fuck a stranger. Tell me you didn’t-”

You laughed.

“You really think I’d do anything without making sure you watched? God, Snow, you don’t know me at all.”

He moved in closer.

“If you ever do that again, if you so much as look his way, I’ll have him whipped in the middle of the city. Or maybe I won’t bother. I’ll just have him hung, and I’ll make sure you’re there at the front of the crowd to watch him drop, knowing his blood is on your hands. Do you understand me?”

You set your jaw. Shrugged.

“Okay.”

He frowned. You took pride in the way you could see it, him trying desperately to figure you out.

“Okay?” He repeated.

“You heard me. You think I really care enough about him, that I’d invite him into the house just to make you jealous, then expect him to end up alive? How stupid do you think I am?”

You did care about Nathaniel, at least enough to not want him dead, but Snow couldn’t know that. Not for this to work.

“You’re bluffing.” But you could hear in his voice that he wasn’t sure.

“Am I? Your threats don’t phase me, Coriolanus. Do your worst, I don’t care anymore. What, did you think I’d try to talk you out of it? You think I’d beg?”

His bewilderment caused him to drop your wrists, and you took the chance to push yourself away from the wall.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I won’t fold. I meant what I said that night. You want me to be yours, you want to own me? You have to earn it. My way. You’re not going to get anywhere trying to scare me into submission. It won’t work.”

Disbelief flashed across his face. You stood your ground, raising your head up high, leaning in.

“I don’t want to fight you, Coriolanus.” You confessed. “Your room. An hour. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Say what you wanted about Coriolanus Snow, but when you asked him to be on time, he obliged. You didn’t even need to hear his footsteps to know he’d come, which you’d grown finely attuned to by now, enough to hear them leave his office two rooms away and walk the short distance to his room, swinging open the door you’d left decidedly ajar.

And you made sure what he walked in on was a sight to behold; you, sprawled out on his bed in nothing but a white shirt of his, unbuttoned all the way down, falling to your sides. Your head pressed into his silk pillowcases, legs parted lazily as your hand rubbed slow circles on your clit beneath the red lace of your underwear. You could tell from the look on Snow’s face when you rolled your head to the side and looked at him that you’d had the desired effect, that you’d orchestrated this perfectly, because he couldn’t take his eyes off your hand, hips rocking into it, the visual made all the more lewd by the scrap of fabric hiding your movements, leaving his brain to fill in the blanks.

You slowed.

“Glad you could make it.” A small smile formed on your lips.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“I have. Your bed’s a lot softer than mine.”

He hummed, crossing his arms.

“Why did you ask me here, sweetheart? This is my room, after all.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and even that small motion wasn’t lost on him. Your hand stilled.

“I waited for you.” You said quietly.

He let out a sigh, ragged and tired.

“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you knew how badly I wanted to see you-”

“Don’t. I don’t want your apology.”

His expression gave way to confusion for a split second.

“Okay. What is it you want?”

You paused, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth. Then you swallowed, your voice an embrassing whisper.

“I want your mouth on me.” It almost hurt to hold his stare, but you did.

“That so?” was the response. You cleared your throat.

“You say you’re sorry, Snow? Prove it. I’m right here.”

He paused, like he was mulling you over. Like he was figuring out just how to play his cards. Then a small smile pulled at his lips.

“Take your hand away.” His voice was rough, and it gave him away.

You obliged, watching him step towards the bed, towards you. He rolled up his sleeves, eyes on yours and your stomach twisted.

There he is.

“If you’re going to be making demands, it’s only polite that you ask nicely. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You nodded, flushing under his stare.

“You want me to take these off?” He smoothed his hands up your thighs, thumbs hooking into the band of your panties. You'd missed feeling his hands on your skin.

You nodded again, and he tutted.

“Yes.” You corrected. “Please.”

“Good. It was about time you learned some manners.” He slowly slid them off, and you lifted your hips to help him. His gaze slid between your legs, and you shifted your knee so you were covered.

“Not getting shy now, are you? Open your legs for me.” He instructed, and you obliged, burning under the heat of his gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off before moving in towards you, kneeling on the ottoman. You were already soaked, and you could feel the heat building even more, just from having him near you, having him see what a dripping mess you were.

“Shit.” It was no louder than a whisper, but your perked ears caught it and you pressed your lips together.

He tentatively pushed his thumb through your folds and you whined, a look on his face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. Did it again, and it caught on your clit, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Please.”

“Good girl. You know how many times I’ve thought about this over the past week? I’ve lost sleep over it.”

“Coriolanus.”

He smoothed his hands over your thighs again, and you yelped as he suddenly pulled you forward, hooking your legs over his shoulders. He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it, blood rushing from your head, so you dropped it back onto the pillows.

“Look at me.” He squeezed your thigh.

You did. You felt a sliver of pride as you noted the slight flush in his cheeks, like maybe he was more worked up than he was letting on.

“You know how many times I came all over those pretty panties of yours, wishing you were wearing them? Think I lost count.”

You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you as his breath brushed over your folds, wound so tight you thought you would burst.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Say it again.”

“I want your mouth on me. Please, put your mouth on me.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice, because with a sharp inhale, he pressed his mouth onto your cunt and dragged his tongue over your clit, slowly, firm and deliberate, like he had an itemised list of exactly how to cause your undoing. You gasped at the sudden contact, and your hips bucked off the bed, before his fingers gripped into your hips the way they had the other night, and slammed you back down.

“So fucking needy. Were you really that worked up? Parading your little boy toy around will do that, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” You gasped, as he worked his tongue over your clit again, tracing slow, firm circles that made your legs weak. You grabbed a handful of his hair, blonde locks twisted between your fingers as he pulled away again. You whined.

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you are. But you will be.”

You didn’t have time to wonder what that meant, because his tongue was all over you again, lapping at your entrance, lips sucking loudly at your clit as you moaned, free hand twisting creases into his bedsheets.

“Fuck.” You keened as your hips bucked harder, searching for friction that was so close to being enough. Your heels pressed into his back and your hand tightened in his hair, to which he retaliated by digging his nails into your thighs, scraping against the almost-healed bruises that were left from the previous week. The pinch brought you further into that headspace, where you could feel yourself slipping away, crying out as you thrashed under the pressure of his tongue on your cunt.

You kept rocking your hips, hopelessly trying to grind against him, but his hands held you down firmly, keeping the pace torturously slow. You couldn’t help your spaced-out brain from slipping back to weeks ago, when you’d watched him do the same to his whore on this very bed, and you made a sound of protest that just melted in with the rest of your noises, going unnoticed.

You didn’t want to feel this way, to feel disposable, like he could just have his way with you and throw you out. You knew that if you didn’t do something, you’d lose yourself altogether. And you couldn’t bear that thought, of having to give in. Not like this. Not when he held all the cards again.

“I want to sit on your face.” You breathed without thinking, strung out and desperate. Coriolanus pulled back. A smirk on his lips, which were swollen red and covered in your slick. You whimpered as the soft light caught him, showing you the mess you’d made of his face, dripping down his chin.

“Do you now?”

“Please. I’ll ask nicely, I’ll – I’ll beg, if you want me to. Just please, let me sit on your face. I can’t take it anymore, I’m so-” You broke off, gasping as he pressed a soft kiss onto your clit, causing your legs to jolt.

“Poor thing. You really want it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Please, I’ll do anything. Just… please.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, trailing soft kisses down your thigh. “Since you’ve asked so nicely, I’ll let you. Just for a few minutes, okay? Think you can cum that fast?”

“Fuck, yes. Thank you.”

A messy tangle of limbs as he pulled his shirt off, sliding flat onto the bed, hands guiding your shaking legs as you inched over his torso. It was nearly too much, watching his pretty face as you lowered yourself onto him, but you couldn’t look away, hands grabbing the headboard to steady yourself. You couldn’t help but think back to that night, riding his thigh like you were being paid for it. As he carefully eased your hips down, thighs either side of his face, you knew this was going to be a hundred times better than that. And Snow didn’t disappoint, lifting his head to nuzzle your clit as you sucked in a breath, hips jolting forward. You dropped a hand to grab onto his hair, and he didn’t retaliate this time, letting you wind your fingers around his curls as you started to move slowly, rocking your hips against his mouth.

This was much better. The angle was perfect, pressure everywhere you needed it, and you tipped your head back as you moved, one languid lick causing it to drop forward again to look at Snow.

The only time he really moved was to pull you in firmer, and the motion reminded you of how he’d pulled you into his thigh, and before you knew it the ache in your stomach was growing into a throb, burning you up until it felt molten, until you felt drunk from it. The coil tightened further as you got into it, rolling your hips, tugging Snow’s hair to the point where you were sure it must’ve been hurting him, but he either didn’t care or just didn’t stop you. As your hips bucked faster and you looked down at his face, eyes hazy as he ate you out like he was starved, you couldn’t help it, you just started talking, rambling near nonsense and it wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, that’s it, right there. You’re gonna make me cum all over your face if you keep that up. Holy shit.” Your grip in his hair tightened, so hard it was pulling his head back so you could grind against him just right, clit catching on his nose, cunt spasming against his tongue, and he winced, a broken sound escaping the back of his throat, but it only egged you on. Your voice breathy but taunting, getting cockier by the second.

“Does that hurt, baby? Am I pulling too hard?” His eyes narrowed, but his tongue only fucked into you harder. “You can take it though, can’t you? Fuck. You’re being so good for me, letting me fuck your face like this. Feels so fucking good. Shit, I thought you’d take more convincing, but look at you, eating from the palm of my hand.”

His hands gripped into your hips again, nails digging crescent moons into your skin, and you tightened your thighs around his head which only made him dig harder, the pain tipping you over the edge as you shouted out, hips jerking as your thighs shook, and Snow only pressed in firmer with his tongue as you came, riding out your high with a strangled sob.

He didn’t give you chance to come down from your orgasm, instead pushing you off his face and flipping you over. You landed on your back, scared for a second that you’d be punished for getting carried away, but his lips met yours in a sudden battle for dominance. You moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He’d never kissed you like this before. It lit another fire in your stomach, just when you thought you were done.

After what felt like a lifetime getting drunk off each other, he pulled away, and you got to see the mess you’d made of this man. There he was, propped above you, the most powerful man in the country, blonde hair a sweaty wreck of tangles, parted lips sore and swollen, your cum smeared across his mouth and chin, mixed with the trail of your wet tongue in the places you’d just cleaned him up.

You tasted it on your lips, heard it in his laboured breath, saw it in his blown-out eyes, felt it in the small space between you.

This was what power felt like.

He was shaking his head incredulously, like he couldn’t quite believe you. Then, ignoring your hiss, his head dipped between your legs again, smooth tongue rolling over you like cool water on a burn. You flinched, a broken sound slipping from your lips.

“Oh, come on. You can give me one more, right?”

Fuck.

“Coriolanus, I can’t-” You whined as his hot breath lit you up, long fingers sliding inside you.

“You will. Come on, baby. You can take my fingers, can’t you?” His voice mimicked yours as he opened you up, speeding up a little. You hummed as he pressed against your sweet spot, and you hated how it seemed like it was so easy to him, to take you apart like this.

“Good girl. Look at me.” He scolded, when your eyes rolled back, squirming from the overstimulation, pressing his thumb against your clit just to watch you jolt.

“You’re going to do something for me. You’re going to promise me you won’t ever see him again.”

“What? Who, Nathaniel? I-”

He pressed into your clit again, mean, and you squeaked.

“Don’t say his fucking name. Promise me, right now. Say it.”

“I promise. Never again. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed.

“Good girl.” He smiled.

“Don’t want anyone else, just you, please. Please, Coriolanus. Will you promise me too?” Your words were airy, and your voice shook.

He slowed his fingers, and shifted himself up to place his lips on yours.

“I promise, sweetheart. It’ll just be us.” His fingers pressed into you harder, scissoring lazily, but every movement lit all your nerve endings on fire. You were so wet it was almost humiliating, or it would be if you weren’t so turned on, obscene sounds bouncing off the walls as he worked you open. Coriolanus could tell, smiling as he whispered praises, sweet nothings into your ear and added a third finger, thumb brushing across your clit as the sensitivity quickly morphed into more pleasure.

“You close again, baby?”

You only whimpered in response, head jerking as your eyes squeezed close, arm sliding down to grab his wrist, pushing it further. You were wrecked, and he knew it. It was his doing.

“Ah.” He knocked your hand away with a knowing smile. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’m listening.”

You paused, at a mental crossroads, but as he twisted his fingers just right, pressing deeper, you dropped all your inhibitions. Squeezed your eyes closed, cunt gripping his fingers, and confessed.

“I want you to fuck me.” You whispered.

You knew full well what it meant. You didn’t care anymore; you’d had your fun, and you were ready to fold. Lay all your cards out on the table. This ache inside you had never felt so loud. You refused to open your eyes, which were threatening to fill with desperate tears.

“Ask nicely.” He pulled his fingers back, dragging them along your sweet spot. You were starting to lose feeling in your legs.

“Please. Please, fuck me. I’m done, now, I promise. I won’t do it again, Coriolanus, I’m so sorry-”

“Say it again. One more time. Look at me.”

You sighed, eyes flooding with hot tears. You finally opened them.  

“Please, Coriolanus. Fuck me.”

He smiled, but as quickly as it arrived, it morphed into something sinister.

“No.”

His hand stopped, fingers slipping out of you before you could stop them. Your high started to slip away. You rocked your hips, confused out of your mind. Driven to your edge, and then in the same breath, catapulting to a stop.

“I- wait, no… what?” You sounded delirious.

He shrugged, casually lifting his fingers, sucking them off with a pop.

“I don’t think I will. You’ve done quite enough, and I’ve had a long day. So I think you should be on your way now.”

You gaped, dumbfounded. The tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you held them in like they were your last shred of pride.

“But… you said we wouldn’t… I thought-”

He traced a hand across your check, gently, and it took everything in you not to sob.

“I meant what I said. But I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget. You should go and get some sleep.”

“Coriolanus, I- please.” You begged him, eyes wild and desperate.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows and something inside you sank like a heavy cruiser. “A taste of your own medicine.”

a/n: sorry mom

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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[tomssexdoll]

 A Table for Three

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and you have been bombarded with work like usual, never having any time for a real date night. When the time came you both went to a fancy resturant, excited to finally have proper time together, the night is shortly ruined when a young, flirty waitress is chosen for your table. She flirts and ignores you all the while Tom plays off her behaviour and flirts back with her.

REQ AND A/N: Hii, could you make something w smut and super angsty with Tom? Like he and the reader are out at a restaurant for date night, and the waitress has been flirting with him all night and he kinda plays it off but also entertains her a bit, and then gives her a huge tip before leaving which causes conflict during the car ride home like a "wtf was that??" Situation n he's acting a lil oblivious ofc and then whatever else happens (I'll leave that to you), and it's resolved at home—in bed I tried to be detailed since you wrote that you prefer when we add more details but I hope I didn't overdo it😣😣

no you didn't I love detail pookie, it's so sweet you remembered that!

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (riding), mutual masturbation (fingering and jerking off), arguing

Me and Tom hadn't been out for a date in a while, since he was a rockstar and he was busy basically every single week with work, recording songs, making a new album, planning tours and concerts, doing brand deals, etc. We finally found a time for both of us where we weren't jam packed with work and stressed out.

Our "date nights" usually consisted of us both crashing out in bed and cuddling to sleep. I wanted a real date night though, I wanted an excuse to dress up and look pretty and have a proper meal.

He had been especially busy lately, he barely had time to breathe, let alone plan a proper date night. He noticed I started to seem a little disappointed with our "dates" and decided that he would plan something special this time. He booked a fancy Italian restaurant, the one I'd be raving about going to all month.

While I got dressed Tom waited on the couch, scrolling through his phone, just checking on updates from work. When I came downstairs, dressed up in a beautiful red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places his eyes widened, taking in my appearance. A slow smirk spread across his face, "damn baby..you look absolutely stunning, come here.." he patted the spot next to him, putting his phone to the side.

I noticed the way he kept looking back at his phone to see if anything new came up from work, I sighed and gently tilted his chin to face me. "Baby, you'll be okay for one night without checking in on the band 24/7, they can live without you, let's have fun tonight.." he sighed dramatically and put his phone in his pocket, switching it to silent mode.

"Alright, alright. You're right, they can survive one night without me micromanaging everything," he chuckled, planting a soft kiss to my lips before standing up, buttoning his shirt and putting on his leather jacket. "Alright baby, let's go." He took my hand, walking me outside to his car and getting inside, ready for a fun night after what felt like decades.

We eventually arrived at the restaurant, the hostess leading us to our seats and pouring us a glass of red wine. Tom leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "you know, it's not very often I get to see you all dressed up like this. It's a nice change from our usual sweatpants and netflix nights.." he chuckled, finding my hand and rubbing slow circles on my skin with his thumb.

As we were ready to order our food, our waitress came to our table, a young, attractive woman. Her cleavage was basically ready to bust our of her uniform at any second. Tom's eyes immediately locked onto the waitress's cleavage, a small smirk playing on his lips as he reached out to take the menu from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers.

She was of course flirty with Tom, batting her eyelashes at him like a lovesick teenager. "I'll have the filet mignon, rare and a side of garlic mashed potatos.." he smirked, his voice low, like he was trying to impress her. She giggled and nodded, "one filet mignon and the garlic mashed potatos..coming right up!" she went to leave, almost like she forgot all about me.

I cleared my throat, "uhm.. and i'll have the pasta bolognese please.." she sighed and turned to face us again, giving me a subtle glare, "sure.." she mumbled, scribbling it down on her notepad. She gave one last glance to Tom before winking and walking off.

"Strange.." I sighed and sipped at my wine, he chuckled awkwardly and leaned back in his chair, sipping his own wine nonchalantly, but I could tell he was still thinking about the waitress. The way his eyes kept drifting back to the door she disappeared through, "so..how have you been..?" he asked, trying to refocus the conversation on me. "Tom..we live together how do you-" I stopped myself and sighed, "i've been fine.." I put on a fake smile.

As the waitress re-emerged from the kitchen, Tom's eyes locked onto her again, watching as she walked around the restaurant, deliberately swaying her hips. He pretended to adjust his napkin in his lap, trying to hide the fact that he was obviously checking her out.

I noticed this and scoffed, shaking my head and just looking the other way, too disgusted to keep looking. The waitress finally made her way back to our table, placing Tom's steaming plate in front of him, purposefully leaning over so that her cleavage was more visible to him, a smirk on her lips.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, sweetheart?" She asked him, ignoring me completely. I sighed angrily and spoke up, "my food, where is it?" Tom's eyes flickered to me for a moment before he answered, his tone dripping with annoyance, "it'll be out soon, she can only do so much," he said curtly, his gaze returning to the waitress as she blushed and giggled at his response.

My heart slightly ached at this interaction, why was he acting like this? He's never, and I mean never done something this rude before and borderline disgusting. When my food came she just she just shoved it on the table rudely, dismissing me completely.

Tom dug into his steak with enthusiasm, barely acknowledging the waitresses rude behaviour towards me. "Tom are you joking..did you not see how rude she was to me?" I spoke up after she walked away, "she's just doing her job, you're being too sensitive.." he looked up from his plate, wiping his mouth with his napkin before taking another bite.

She made her way back to us to ask how the food was, making small talk, laughing and flirting openly with each other. It was clear he was enjoying her attention, even if it meant neglecting me completely. I was hurt, deeply hurt. The anger bubbling inside me only seemed to rise when he didn't make an effort to talk to me but seemed to always want to talk to her.

The whole night was just awkward small talk, nothing like our usual conversations, his flirty behaviour continued with the waitress. She was usually the main instigator and he just entertained her behaviour. Once we finished and went to leave he left her a massive tip, 100 dollars on a 67 dollar bill.

As we exited the restaurant, Tom seemed oblivious to my seething resentment. He casually draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and giving me a soft kiss on my temple as if nothing had happened. "Well that was a great meal, wasn't it babe?" he smirked. I pushed him off, "don't fucking touch me you pig," I murmured and got into the car, slamming the door.

Tom stared incredulously at the slammed door, then slowly climbed into the drivers seat with a bewildered expression. He turned to face me, his brows knitted together, "what's your problem?" he asked, genuinely perplexed by my sudden outburst.

"Are you fucking KIDDING ME?" I snapped, "what's my problem? I'll tell you what my fucking problem is, we barely go on dates and the one fucking time we do you pull some shit like that?" I said, the anger rising in my voice.

Tom knew he was in trouble but his pride got in the way, his expression darkened and for a moment, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, pulling out of the parking lot and driving home. "What are you talking about? I can't help it if the waitress was attracted to me!" he defended himself, his voice rising slightly.

"Oh that's bullshit and you know it, you know I couldn't give less of a shit if she was attracted to you or not, you were entertaining her fucking flirting you asshole! Do I even mean anything to you? You're willing to throw what we have away for some fucking bimbo working as a waitress?" I yelled at him, hurt and anger evident in my tone.

His expression suddenly changed, becoming almost mocking. "Oh so THIS is what it's all about?" he scoffed, his voice dripping to a low whisper. "You're jealous? What? Because some random chick flirted with me and I..may have flirted back?" I shook my head in disbelief, "who even are you right now? You did flirt back, are you fucking kidding me?" I sighed in frustration, rubbing my temples.

It got even worse when we got home, we were screaming at each other, yelling all sorts of things. Then, suddenly I grabbed him, smashing my lips into his roughly. He smirked, satisfied that his plan had worked, he had successfully riled me up. It didn't take him longer than a second to kiss me back, his fingers digging into my skin as he forced his tongue into my mouth, kissing me back with equal anger and passion. He broke the kiss, his chest heaving with anger as he picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder and marching up to the bedroom.

He slammed me down onto the bed, his body covering mine as he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. He breathed heavily, his pupils dilated with a mixture of anger and desire, pressing his weight down onto me as he starts unzipping my dress roughly. "You're so fucking jealous it's cute.." he smirked, "shut the fuck up, asshole," I grumbled angrily, grabbing him by the belt and tugging it off.

He fumbled with my dress and slid it off, growling in delight at the sight of my matching lacy bra and underwear. He practically tore my panties off as I slid his pants off, shoving his boxers down to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. His eyes gleamed with possessive hunger as he looked at me, "fuck..you're so fucking hot when you're angry. It only makes me want you more.." he let out a loud groan as I grabbed his cock, jerking it off furiously.

"What, you think making me jealous by flirting with bimbo waitresses is fucking funny, huh?" I panted, "no" he hissed out between gritted teeth, reaching down and sliding 2 fingers into me, matching my rhythm. "But watching you get all possessive and worked up?" he smirked, "yeah, that's fucking hot.." I glared at him and kept working his cock, my hand pumping up and down continuously.

His pace sped up, fingering me even faster than before. Loud, angry moan escaped the both of us, we both leaned in and kissed each other deeply, our tongues fighting for dominance as the kiss got more heated. "Fucking hate you.." I mumbled against his lips, making him laugh and move his lips to my neck, sucking and biting at the skin.

He continued to finger me aggressively, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit in time with his fingers, "fuck..you're so tight.." he growled, his other hand gripping my hip possessively. I kept jerking him off hard and fast, all my anger going into it which heightened the pleasure even more. His breath hitched, his eyes locked on the scene before him. "Holy fuck...just like that.." he groaned, his free hand coming to wrap around mine, guiding my pace, "don't stop, fuck, just like that!" he roared.

I moaned loudly as he curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside me I loved. He continued his relentless pace, his thumb pressing against my clit as his fingers pump in and out of my dripping cunt. "Look at you..so fucking sexy.." he said, his voice low and husky with lust.

He moved his spare hand up to my hair, grabbing a fist full of it and tugging, exposing my neck to him. He immediately leaned down and left more marks, kissing and sucking the skin like he had before. I whined and moaned, "fuck! Oh my god keep going, I'm so close!" he smirked at my words and doubled his efforts, his fingers moving in and out of my pussy at breakneck speed. "That's it baby, come all over my fingers. Show me how much you love it when I touch this pretty pussy.." he whispered teasingly.

I kept at my pace even though I was struggling to keep up with his, I squeezed his cock and slid my hand up and down his shaft over and over again, making eye contact with him. He groaned loudly, rolling his eyes back as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, spilling his seed all over my stomach.

My orgasm hit not long after, a loud moan escaping me as I spilled my release on his fingers. We both panted, our chests heaving as we tried to calm down from the intense orgasms. Not long after I flipped us both over, forcing him to sit against the headboard. I angrily sat on his cock, riding him hard and fast, his sensitive cock twitching in me.

"You think you can flirt with that stupid waitress and think there will be no consequences, huh?" I growled in his ear, he grunted loudly and his hands flew to my hips, "shit..that's so fucking good.." he smirked, his eyes meeting mine, "punish me then, baby..I'm all yours.." he panted heavily, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched my breasts bouncing with each aggressive thrust.

He noticed my thrusts faltering, my legs not able to keep up, getting tired very quickly. He moved his hands to rest just below my ass, gripping tightly and slamming me up and down onto his cock, "holy fuck!" I screamed, holding onto him tightly.

He chuckled deeply, loving how I was still so angry but couldn't continue my "punishment". His hands tighten around my ass, pulling me down harder onto his thick length, "you like that? You getting tired already?" he teased, making me glare at him deeply, "shut up..fuck you.." I mumbled, smashing my lips into his and moaning into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at me with fierce intensity. "No more talking baby..just feel.." he grabbed my hips and physically lifted me up, slamming me up and down onto his cock at a brutal pace, the sound of my wet pussy slamming against his thighs filling the room. My moans only got louder and whinier, my arms encircling around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer as he continued to pound into me. He grumbled and left sloppy kisses on my neck and jawline, "this is what you get for ever thinking I'd touch another girl.." he growled, his voice muffled against my skin. I whimpered and moaned, "I'm gonna cum, oh my god! Keep fucking going!" I choked out a sob, the pleasure so good that tears started to roll down my cheeks.

His movements became erratic as he felt me tightening around him, his own orgasm building quickly. "Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock.." he demanded, kissing the tears off my face. He was at this point jackhammering into me, hitting my deepest and most sensitive spots.

After a few more harsh thrusts I cried out, a small stream of clear liquid squirting out of me, taking us both by surprise. His eyes widened in shock as he felt the sudden warmth and sensation of the liquid spurting out onto his cock and stomach, instantly triggering his own orgasm.

Spurts of hot cum shot into me, his grip tightening around me as he pulled me down with him, collapsing into the pillows. He couldn't help but let out a surprised grunt, before a wicked grin spread across his face, "holy shit..did you just squirt..?" he chuckled.

"Shut up!" I whined and looked away, super embarrassed. He chuckled and pulled me into a fierce kiss, his hands cupping my face. "Don't hide that sexy ass face, that was the hottest damn thing I've ever seen.." he smirked, slowly laying back onto the bed and pulling me into his arms, leaving his softening cock inside me.

"But seriously..I know our sex life hasn't been the greatest lately and that's the only reason why you did this whole..situation..but keep this a one time thing only, otherwise I'll literally chop your dick off next time you little drama starter.." I smirked, smacking his arm playfully.

He bursted out laughing, shaking his head as he gazed into my eyes, "yeah..okay babe. One time thing only." his gaze softened as he kept looking at me, "didn't know it would be this damn hot though.." he smirked, teasing me slightly.

"Oh shoosh you perv!" I giggled, rolling my eyes and leaning in to kiss him gently.

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @ella1289 @billsdolliest @tomscumdoll

tags: @tomsfuckdoll @tomkslut @miyukafujii

tags: @itsangell

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (17)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf,  fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 10.6k (Listen we don't have consistency here but we do have quality alr)

Summary:

With his mate in his arms, the Pack Alpha brings her home.

Warnings: MINOR CHARACTER DEATH (parents), mentions of taking one's life (I promise most of this is fluff and fun), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, marking, manhandling, omega in heat

Author's Note: Hello again, lovelies! I apparently am really bad at following schedules if you didn't notice, so I apologize (again) for really long periods between updates on this story. Rest assured that the next chapter will be the long awaited mating between our two soulmates, which will be the final installment to this saga that I have now been writing for five years.

Crazy how fast time flies.

Anyway, I felt like it had been too long since the last update to just...have them go at it in this one. I had had plans to make this shorter, but somehow 20 pages were written between this week and last and...yeah. Here we are.

I dedicate this chapter to @h-g-bts and @jeonwiixard, because without your support, encourage, and love, this chapter would never have happened. I have never seen such contagious enthusiasm and excitement that you two always are jumping at the chance to share with me, and I adore you two for all of the wonderful rambles we have about this story amidst all of our other shenanigans.

I hope that those who read this chapter–especially you two– enjoy it to the fullest. I always worry I won't do justice to the ideas in my head or even to the existing story I've written, so please share your thoughts and love for this story if you like it. I have discovered that I write faster if I am inundated with praise and love for my work. :)

That's enough from me for now. I now give to you the seventeenth chapter of COC!

Series Masterlist Previous Chapter

The scraunch of grass under his feet surrenders to the steady song of your heart while he carries you, your smaller form tucked snugly against his chest while you sleep peacefully in his arms. 

Slumber had welcomed you happily after you’d lost so much blood to the beast of greed that lived inside him, and as his still human body moves on instinct through the night with the moon as his witness, that beast only clutches closer at the covetousness of his savior–of this mortal goddess– who had come to save him.

Many still had been milling about when he’d departed with her from the bathhouse, the interested eyes and ears of alphas and omegas alike all trying to confirm the undeniable truth of his choice in you and yours in him. 

That he had been awake and of the conscious world astounded them enough as he’d walked through them, their widened eyes and gasps enough to indicate that. The irrefutable proof of your maturing bond was present in the serene, calm expression that the beautiful creature held against him had amidst the two new reddened, raised punctures he’d left on her wrist that fell gracefully by his side while he, who should have been without operation of one arm and restricted to a bed, was well and amble.

Namjoon had been there, Yoongi’s dried blood still dirtying hands and arms, but his loyalty to his alpha–his friend– mattered more than any odorous stench that Yoongi the deceiver could concoct. 

He’d shared one look with Namjoon, and it was one that needed no words between it. There had been a silent nod from his second-in-command, a lowering of his chin out of respect for his strength in combat before his fist had come upon his left breast in a sign of acceptance and recognition for the choice his Pack Alpha had made in his chosen mate, and the action had brought with it the parroting of all males–all alphas–who had been in the audience. 

Not one male failed to mimic the action, the Pack Alpha’s absence of injuries and state of near death that he had administered to his enemies all that they needed to recall. 

Seokjin, a taller male who just managed to reach Namjoon’s high height, had been standing dutifully by the other male’s side, the reaction of his mate one echoed in sentiment as he’d crossed each of his hands over each other between both breasts and bowed, the gesture one of approval and approbation of she who would become highest in rank and power over all omegas; of she who would lead them and guide the Omegean dynamic–of she who would become the Pack Omega. 

Niva, a long-time companion of yours who was a rather short woman, had mirrored the motion with tears in her eyes out of the happiness she felt for the female that the Pack Alpha held with such affection lighting the golden discs of his own as he stared warmly at her, not a fractal of the cold from before when he’d been in the ring with the males who tried to win her from him. 

Deference to them both had had each wolf stepping aside like parting ferns as the Pack Alpha had stepped between them, the dense cluster of all wolves in the compound bending to their knee as he passed. 

No one had asked where he was going. Such was common knowledge– the only thing left now was to seal the bond between two fated souls and fulfill the vow he had made to you in the remnants of their shared blood that had been left clinging to your flesh.

In the present, he proceeds with purpose through the forest, your soft breaths coaxing him toward his destination amidst the symphony of crickets chirping in celebration and owls calling excitedly to each other while the flowers and fallen leaves offer their embrace in support to his ankles as he steps through them.

It is impossible not to let the music of nature return him to when he’d first heard it years ago, when he’d first stepped foot in the greenery of the woodland.

He had been in a much smaller body, his paws much tinier while he’d been running through the forest, his father’s stern, unamused shouts lost to him while the colors of the earth ran past him in streaks of brown, black, and green.

There had been a wonderful, pleasurable burn in his lungs while he’d pushed his haunches to keep going, to dash to freedom from the asphyxiating restrictions of training for responsibilities he had no concept of yet, the wind racing through his fur and whistling through his ears while his claws upended the soil in clouds of dark plumes as they raked through it. 

He’d not known where he was going–only that he was chasing something he could never reach, no matter how hard he tried. 

Inevitably, his little furry body could only handle so much, and upon slowing to a stop in the middle of a clearing that held its own town of daffodils, lilies, roses, wisteria, gardenia, marigold, and tulips, each swaying with the wind he’d brought with him. The myriad of colors had been pleasing to his eye, and when he’d let their vibrant scents blossom under his nose, their coalescence had been an aroma sweeter than the finest sugar. 

But then…then he’d heard a voice, a voice that was daintier than any flower. A voice that harvested something in him he’d not known a name for yet. 

Curiosity had carried him toward the origin of that voice, his wolf refusing to ignore the soft melody as it sang a nursery tale of two lost souls helplessly drawn to each other no matter how many times the earth tried to tear them apart. 

“Alone he ran, alone he remained, seeking that which was forbidden-”

He had been quiet as a mouse while he neared the curtain of vines and climbing plants that had grown along the expanse of the rocky wall toward the forest’s edge, the voice that reached for him behind it too pretty to resist. He’d never ventured here thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything behind it. And yet…

“Forbidden it was, he longed for respite from the rivalries and revelries that were but a curse of his kin-”

His paws drew him forward, the clink of his claws against the rock drowned by the spring ahead of him, the crystalline water that streamed over the larger slabs of rock each stacked around each other enough to silence it to the female who stood on two hairless legs with her back to him in the watery pool ahead of them that was deep enough to cover her to the waist. On the other side of the rocks there fell clear water from one pool to another, a smaller pond sat surrounded by smaller stones of colors he had no names for in their darker and lighter hues. 

“Onward he journeyed toward the unknown who took a form fascinating to him, a form of long, flowing hair and kind, gentle orbs for eyes that the moon sculpted after herself in their color. For the moon had longed for many years to bring forth a child of flesh and blood as she grew lonely in the dark skies after mother nature had birthed her own child of hair and blood -”

Like invisible force had been urging him on, he continued, helpless to the pull that began from his heart and tugged him toward this fair creature who wore but a frock that was a halo of gilded white, silver, and gold around her in its long length and trailing sleeves that left a high neckline across her front and back. 

She floated there, in the middle of the water, as she moved with a grace no ordinary child could ever hope to have with a tune only she could hear. Transfixed, he could not force himself to look away if he tried. He had to know who this goddess with a voice light as the stars was. 

“She wept, and she wept, and she wept in her solitude, and from those tears that fell to the earth, she molded her daughter from mist, cloud, stars, and her light. From the earth there came her offspring who was molded into a girl with all of the knowledge poured into her from her mother, her body no younger than eight winters, but no older than ten-”

Something deep in his chest had begun to pound at that sight, and when the young girl before him turned toward him in a sweep of her arms through the air, that had been when he’d been unable to move any longer, amazement forcing the oxygen from his lungs as he’d beheld her. 

Her beautiful hair, which flowed with the wind that breezed through it, had been bound only by the gardenias that had been strewn down its wisps framing a face that was unlike anything he’d ever gazed upon before. Her cheekbones were high, nose straighter than a line yet cuter than any button, her lips pink as any chrysanthemum. And her eyes? They were closed while she was lost to the words she spoke.

“With no one but herself in the world, the moon’s daughter cried and wept, her own loneliness a curse even her own mother could not make her forget from so high a place in the sky’s throne. The earth took pity on the young girl of flesh and bone, so it sent her its son, who was of the same time on land. The two, recognizing kindred spirits in one another, were inseparable-”

As if his limbs had been captured by whatever had begun to wind him around this goddess’s hand, his haunches lowered so he sat on the rock by the creek, his shadow reaching toward the girl in the water before him. 

“The earth’s son and moon’s daughter spent many moons together, their hearts irrevocably becoming entwined in the other’s, and upon their eighteenth winter together, the earth became jealous of her son, wishing with her entire being that she could reach her lover that the clouds kept imprisoned within them yet never being able to except for when the skies cried, releasing him so he could be with his lover.”

The birds had stopped chirping as she’d turned her face down toward her feet, the darkness claiming her features so he could no longer admire them while sadness clogged her throat and watered tears from the corner of her eyes that remained closed to him.

Though he had heard the tale uttered from many mothers before, somehow, when this creature before him chanted it, it struck the chords of something he would not know a name for for many years after. He’d never really listened nor cared for it before. Not until now. Not until this female who breathed every syllable with emotion that none had mustered before. 

“The earth became vengeful watching her son love the woman that he took for his one and only love, so she trapped him, just as her own lover had been, deep within the confines of rock and soil. The daughter of the moon, just like her mother, wept, wept, and wept for the other half of her heart that she had given to her lover, and the moon, out of love for her daughter, begged the skies to release to the earth her beloved.”

The goddess in white had raised her hands toward the large orb in the sky almost as if to welcome its pain. 

Why he had felt a need to rid her of it before it could reach her, he didn’t know. All that he did know was that the very thought of her receiving any harm, of something swallowing away her radiance, was unbearable, his chest panging at the idea of her light being snuffed out. Watching and listening to her…it was like stepping into a sea of warmth and luminescence, the darkness of everything else falling away into nothingness. 

“Disgusted at the earth’s selfishness, the sky refused, but the moon begged, the sad tears and pained wails of her daughter over her lover’s absence making her mother sad and doleful. Her daughter’s siblings in the sky grew dim in their own pity for their sister, and too did their mother. The tides began to become restless, the seasons did not obey their call, and darkness began to eat away at the mother of the daughter who roamed restlessly, longingly, and devotedly in her search for her other half.” 

Like the tide, the girl let her body sway with the water’s ripples as she spun around on her heels thrice, each rotation bringing her closer to him and yet, not close enough. 

“Unable to cage the chaos that had taken hold of her body, the earth asked the moon to share her light with the world once more, but she could not. Not until her daughter’s lover had been returned to her. The skies, seeing that the world would soon turn to ruin, decided to offer a bargain: The earth’s beloved would be granted to her only during the rain showers of the skies tears that the moon would permit, and in return, the earth would relinquish her son to one who truly cared for him.” 

The deity in front of him, unseeing of the world around him and now at the water’s edge, let her hands fall back to her sides until the cloth of her trailing, billowing sleeves covered them from sight once more. The darkness had receded to only one side of her face, the other receiving the tender light of the moon. 

The wind blew gently around them, his scent continually swept away by it so that he could remain undetected by her even in this close vicinity. 

“The earth accepted, but not before the daughter of the moon had collapsed from exhaustion on the ground before the cave that mother nature, the earth, had trapped the one she’d been searching for in. The daughter of the moon’s body had grown weak, the life inside it that they had made together stealing what little of her energy remained.” 

His heart now hammering in his chest at her closeness, he could only hold his breath as he watched her, mesmerized by the ethereal glow that seemed to shine underneath her rosy cheeks.  

“The earth’s son revoked his mother upon seeing the shaking shell of his lover, and on his back he carried her to the highest mountain before the widest plane where even the clouds shielded him from his mother’s vengeful eyes. There, the moon and sun fashioned a healing tonic flowing from the sun’s rays themselves, and with it, the son of the earth nursed his love back to health, their child soon born days later.”

As if the goddess before him could sense him, she delicately fell to her knees, hands folding in her lap as her chin rose toward the sky with eyes that still did not see nature before her. Had it not been for the cascading water from the little waterfall behind her, there is no way she would have missed the thundering whims of the muscle nestled under his ribs.

“The earth was resentful, and so she too became pregnant with more like her son when her lover was released to her through the rain. To her three sons came, each growing faster with the meats she fed them, and it was not long before they were sent to end the life of her first-born, each of them deformed by their hatred with a mind bent on revenge and wishing to rid their brother of his son and take what he held dearest–his beloved bride– for themselves. None were successful, but the largest of these monsters, after 10,001 nights, nearly was.” 

 She had paused, a silver streak of wetness falling down her cheek. An irrational desire to wipe it away had been quick to take him, his paw reaching out toward her. That tear did not belong here. Before he could make it there, the female who had sat on her knees only inches from him used her sleeve to clear it away, yet the redness around her eyes lingered as more tears fell and her chant descended in its lovely pitch almost as if life itself had been fading away from her. 

“His brothers had wounded him, scarred him, hurt him in their many battles of blood, but the second eldest had been cunning. He’d waited until the female who had mated the eldest had gone into heat, her vulnerable state easy to trick her in when he’d covered himself in the blood of her mate. It had been easy to capture her and secure her to the nearest boulder at the cliff’s edge while he’d waited for her mate to return, and upon seeing her wrists and feet bound and their only son dead at her feet while the young pup’s lifeless heart was in the maw of his brother, he’d seen red, the thunder piercing air while rain had pelted them hard as lightning flashed.” 

Each word had stirred a hole inside him that could not be filled except with the mellifluous sound of her voice, its mournful melody making him lower his own head in how heavy it suddenly felt. Her own hands had since opened and turned upward, palms facing upward as if to beseech something–anything– to comfort her. Again his paw had moved of its own accord, pads of them just a hair’s length above hers. 

“Taking advantage of his brother’s anger, the second-eldest had almost managed to rip his brother’s head from his shoulders–if not for the moon’s daughter, who had seen through the second-eldest’s plans and warned him before it was too late. As a strike of lightning that had arced across the sky, the first son of the earth blinded the second-eldest with his claws before tearing his jawbone off of him and sending him howling off of the cliff to his death. This was not before he himself had been fatally injured, his brother’s teeth sinking deep into his nape and skull. Just enough strength he had had to loose the bindings on his lover before collapsing on the ground next to their lifeless son, his life draining away from him with the river of blood he lost.”

The female in white paused, shaking her head as if trying to will the image of it away, and her brows had reached toward each other as if to seek comfort while her small fingers had curled in on themselves. Still he holds his paw above hers, fearing that if he touches her, the trance will be broken. That this moment of respite he had found in this alluring creature that unknowingly welcomed him as her listener will come to an abrupt end. 

When she had spoken again, there, in the back of each word, had been the inklings of hope, of the same brilliance she seemed to shine with under each of those long lashes of hers. 

“The moon and sun, having observed the wicked earth from above, took pity on the sky-shattering screams of the lone female that had been left behind, her beloved’s dying breath that he wished he could have held her in his arms one more time while he told her that his love for her would never die. The moon and sun took pity on the two, reshaping and reforming their bodies yet housing their souls in them just the same, bestowing upon the lone female a gift– the gift to heal and restore with the same lips that had drank the life-giving tonic her beloved had fed to her through his kiss.” 

Somehow, the tale had elicited images–remnants of another time– that he’d never thought about before. It was like uncovering something long buried, but it was fleeting. Gone before he could really process it as it buried itself again in the dirt of memory he would not recall for many years later. And in the face of her staggering divine beauty that no other girl her age should have possessed, it was easy to forget. 

“The two found themselves together in each other’s arms in bodies that were of human craft, the ability to shift from their previous lupine,werewolf self to that of a human bestowed to them by the mercy of the gods above who soon created their likenesses, in different forms, sizes, and shapes, and populated the earth with them. Mother Nature corrupted some, but not all, and those that were not corrupted followed the first-born son of earth and the daughter of the moon, who mourned the loss of their son every moon until they were blessed with another, many moons later.” 

Their shadows, now one, had melded together while she had sung the words as if they were a blessing. She had been at peace in the finality of the tale, her brows releasing from the tense position they’d been in, and where her lips had thinned where she had pulled them together, they had parted in their fullness, a strange impulse to touch where she had spoken so charmingly from fixing itself in him.

“Such is the tale of the Lupine Antiquis, the first of our kind. They were each other's heart and soul–fated by the moon and sun– by our gods above. May their tale always bring light in the darkness of lone wanderers in the night.”

Such ethereal sounds departed her lips that she breathed such life into, and he’d been so sure he had been enchanted by them, by her, his paw summoned by them to hers in the urge to dispel her own loneliness that loomed behind her like a penumbra even through all the luminousness of the moon’s silvery streams around them from the moon above. 

The moment they’d touched, her eyes had opened, a look of surprise slowly transforming her once serene, relaxed features while he stared, drawn hopelessly to the glimmering, shining rings of silver that orbited her orbs for eyes. They were brilliant–she was brilliant– and instantly he had felt gravity somewhere in his chest shift, something flipping and turning upside down while he’d continued to gape, pulled immediately into the infinite space of compassion and curiosity that coursed through each of her eyes. 

“Who…who are you? How did you find me?” She had asked the words so entreatingly, no inkling of fear in them. Even her questions compelled him to answer, for the young wolf deep inside him wanted her to hear him, to see him, to know him. 

It had been that creature inside him that had made his bones move and change him from waist to head, his black fur falling away from him hair by hair while the young maiden’s eyes had widened larger than any planetary system. 

“My name,” he had found himself answering honestly, “is Jungkook. I was wandering through the forest. I heard you singing.” 

For no one else had he ever spoken so openly. There were few with whom his father would allow him to talk to, but this female… he felt like the walls he’d been taught to put up crumbled to mere specks under the endless expanse of her gentle gaze. 

“You are,”  she started in astonishment, “a boy. I’ve never met a boy before.” 

Where his black paw had been resting over her upturned hands in her lap, there had since morphed from it a human hand, his baser being wanting–needing– a connection that he could not explain.

“Is that because you are a goddess sent from the stars?” The question had come out before his mind had even caught up with his lips, and the most ariose music of laughter that he’d ever heard had been performed for him by the female whose eyes had shone brighter than any light above them.

“I am mortal, Jungkook of the Forest. Why do you ask me this?” There was a soft rhythm even in her small movements, each of the pads of her fingertips tapping at his as if to tune her understanding of him into her mind. 

There had been no hesitance in his answer, the song of her word and instrument of her beauty easily moving him.

“No siren nor angel has a voice like yours. No witch could harness the moon and shower themselves in its dust and light as you shine with its favor.” He had let her experimentally turn his hand over in her lap, both of her hands taking his between them and holding him there while he let his tongue loose the thoughts that made his heart race like an imp under his ribs at her touch that felt so impossibly right when he knew it shouldn’t have. “You sing of lone wanderers and finding someone that will end the torment of that inescapable loneliness when you are alone here–under the moon–in the middle of night. Like a fallen goddess.”

She had gone still under the staggering admissions of the boy from the wood, for he had seen in seconds what no other had. 

That she was lonely. That she was searching for the end of that horrid, cold hell. 

And the hand she held between hers? Not even the sun could burn that away, but his…it did. Somehow, holding him was like touching the purest of summer rays. It was… it was wonderful. 

Perhaps that was why her own answer had spilled from her mouth to his eager ears. “No one that knows my name calls me by that term, Jungkook of the Wood. But you have earned a favor because of your perceptive eyes that have seen more to me than even those who birthed me are willing to acknowledge. Name it, and it will be yours.”

Greed had not been a concept known to him yet. But when he looked at her, its wings had unfurled, the promise of more making his hopes high and a selfish need soar. 

He had to see her again. Had to hear her sweet voice again. Had to have her nearby and around him again. 

In his mind, the subtle, dainty movements of a dance she’d done for the silver disk hanging above them had played, the shadings of his desire forming. 

“I would ask that you grant my wish to meet here, in this creek, when the moon is full just as it is now.” 

A smile had bounded across her lips, and she’d giggled to herself at his rather demanding request,“You are a strange boy to ask for my presence alone. Still,” she closed her eyes, cupping his hand in both of her own before bringing it against her chest where her heart kept trying to leap toward him. ”Let this be my promise to you, then, Jungkook of the Wood. We shall meet here, with the moon as our witness, when she is full on a night like this one. Allow me to sing for you to seal this vow.”

As if the atmosphere itself wanted to be her orchestra, the wind shook the branches and leaves, their chimes the perfect backdrop for the springing water behind and around them as she chanted to the gods in bits and pieces of a language not yet mastered, yet one that had been largely lost to time’s hand. 

He had not understood a word of it, but somehow, her euphonious crescendos and trills that carried through the air like a feather had been enough to lull him into a most peaceful sleep after they’d both lain down beside each other along the soft bed of grass by the creek. 

Dreams of her frolicking through a field of wheat with him tailing behind her while she’d had an angelic, carefree smile on her face were all that found him that night. And many, many after. 

When he’d woken, the goddess he had been sure he’d met had disappeared, the only trace of her left behind in his hand being two gardenias that looked as if they’d been frozen in time at the pinnacle of their bloom. 

Just as she had promised, she had found him in their meeting place under the mother of the stars when she became full. The female’s luminous laughter joined with his on those nights when he made it his mission to show her the joys of childhood that adults could never understand. 

From the games of tag to making dandelions fly, their exploits were as infinite as the sky above, and inevitably, the sun would steal away the night–and her– from him when she would sing him to sleep with her dulcet songs while she stroked his hair from where his head had rested atop her lap from where she sat by the creek after they’d exchanged stories only innocence could conjure. 

Each meeting brought them closer, an unexplainable union forging between two souls so alone yet so yearning for a companion that they were soon not willing to be apart from each other without their dreams interfering. 

Years passed, but one cold, dark winter night, she did not appear to him again. 

Devastation had stolen his joy from him, and for many moons he visited that creek, hoping that he would encounter his goddess once again. 

 When it became clear to him that his son had been afflicted by a sickness of the heart, his father had forced him out of the forest and down to the milling compound of wood and wolves like him for a supply drop at the forge that his father alone manned and trained him the arts of metal, crafting, and woodworking in. He hadn’t wanted to go, the little muscle in his chest aching and hurting as if stuck with thousands of needles in the absence of the goddess-turned-muse that he’d found in the wood. 

He’d hardly been there a minute before he’d meandered from his father’s side, his nose catching a whiff of a pleasant, heavenly scent he had come to have a liking for where everything else was wretched and disgusting. 

There, laying in the middle of a flowery field with an aged leather tome far too big for her hands, sat the figure of the only girl who could harness his attention to her. He’d called out to her instantly, but when she turned to him, the eyes that once looked at him like he was something so special had changed to ones of unfamiliarity. She’d cocked her head curiously at him, her usual light there in her orbs, but it was as if the lack of recognition refracted the usual rays of it that reflected her warmth straight to his core. 

It had not taken his father long to pull him away from her, the young girl’s own mother dragging her away from him in a flourish of silks. 

When her mother had informed the young girl’s father of Jungkook’s interest in her, the door to his home in the woods had been shattered to splinters by that father. 

He had answered the older man’s call, a rigidness to the lines stiffening the older man’s face when he admonished Jungkook for coming too close to his precious daughter knowing that, as Jungkook was a pureblood, his urges and impulses would be much more uncontrollable, dangerous, and powerful. 

That Jungkook’s father had bested this man in combat and taken from him the rank of Pack Alpha had only founded a dislike and disapproval of him even deeper. 

Jungkook had not felt an ounce of fear, the thought of you, his glimmering goddess of flesh and bone, bespeckling him in intent. Intent that refused to let itself be snuffed out. 

He had gone to his knee that night, bowing his head as a sign of respect when he’d told the young girl’s father about all that they’d done and promised under the moon, asking if there was a way her father would allow him to remain by her side even though she had forgotten him.

Her father had responded to his question with a challenge: injure him in combat, and he would accept Jungkook as his daughter’s silent protector and guardian in exchange for the chance to be near her, but absent from her everyday life until he could prove himself to be stronger than him. 

He’d accepted the challenge without a second thought, and though he still had not been full grown at the time, he’d known enough from training with his father, who had been the Pack Alpha before him, to leave a scar on the man’s arm when he’d foolishly rushed toward him thinking speed would be enough to best him when he was more agile than any wolf the pack had ever had. 

One thing he knew for certain had always been that the very thought of you brought music and color to an otherwise bland, dull world. 

And if you could not remember him, he would rebuild anew. As many times as it took, he would start if you were at the finish.

What began as childish selfishness soon became adolescent fixation, and as the years passed and he grew taller, stronger, and older, that fixation morphed to a quiet obsession for the female that he’d discovered was, like him, a werewolf. 

Her life, he had also discovered, had been one absent of the light and warmth she carried in her eyes.

For her whole life, she had been raised to be the Keeper of the Scrolls (one who attended to, studied, and taught all of the sacred knowledge and texts as well as enforced the traditions of the lupine antiquis) second only to being groomed to become the next Pack Omega, the highest ranked position an omega could hold, which was a position that afforded its bearer to preside over and have authority over all omegas in the pack.

She'd had to sacrifice her childhood for aged parchments and leather bindings of books older than her, the duty of nurturing and instructing the pack's litters of pups falling to her when the previous aged omega became too sick and frail to even leave her bed.

His lover's parents, thinking only of another shiny acumen to add to their perfect daughter that they hoped would attract the next Pack Alpha, had not given her a choice to take that role over. It had been a mandate.

And because her nose had always been buried in a book or scroll either in her chambers or in the archives, she had had very few to talk to. Those that did only did so out of the hopes that one day, she would grant them favors.

He knew this because he heard those insipid, manipulative  creatures spin their cruelties in their speech behind his beloved's back when they believed she was out of earshot.

He'd taken the liberty of handling them, making sure that any vile words spoken about his female were never spoken aloud again with threats of exposing their own dirty secrets that so easily slipped from their lips when he gave them even the slightest bit of attention. 

Such was easy when all of the females in the pack fancied him to the point that they would all but throw themselves at him when he took over the forge that his father had alone been running.

But sometimes, even he could not silence all of the toxic whispers of female jealousy. It was like a disease, and though he had done his best to cure it, there inevitably would be an outlier that slipped under his nose.

On those nights, his love wept alone in her chambers,  her face buried in the mound of pillows on her bed that could not satisfy the need for another's companionship in the bitter solidarity that her parents had caused with their suffocating projection of their own will over her own.

Those were the nights he wandered closer than he should have and left you notes on your windowsill, wishing with everything in his being that he could be by her side, that he could do more than just be your besotted guardian phantom.

Your mother had become sick with an incurable illness your thirteenth winter when she had ventured too far in the forest and been pricked by a nature spirit’s curse that made her see things that were not there, her mind twisted by apparitions that made her forget all but her mate–even her own daughter. Your father, too, had been afflicted by his feelings for her mother that all but consumed him, and when she’d fallen into a sleep that had stopped her organs in your fifteenth year, her soul had joined those of their ancestors. 

Unable to live without his mate, your father had gone, too, so that he could be reunited with his love in the after. 

In his final moments, he’d sent for Jungkook, and he’d damned Jungkook such that, for many moons after, he would wish he could be rid of that night from his mind.

The dying man, who held tight to the blade in his chest that he had put there, had revealed to him that he had traded your memories with Jungkook in exchange for a release from your mother’s torment. With his last shred of life he had ordered Jungkook to protect you from a distance until his daughter came of age–until you were ready to give yourself to the next Pack Alpha. 

You had not even been able to mourn them in peace, the duties your parents had bound unto you too tight to escape, and for three years you wore smiles during the day that never reached your eyes when the elders, like owls, had swooped down over you to caw at you to do more, more, more for the litters of pups you had to teach as the sole Schoolmistress, to be more firmer on the edicts and laws you were to enforce as Keeper of the Scrolls.

For years he had been your shadow and had kept to your father’s dying wish, and he had been content in simply being in your presence. Just seeing you had been enough to quiet the rampant thoughts that roamed his head when he closed them at night. 

But when the heavy weight of it all became too much for you, it was no longer enough for him to linger by your window.

It was why, when the firelight had died and you laid on your bed in a deep sleep, he entered your chambers from the window you’d left open and stoked that fire so that the cold of loneliness did not find you. For a long time, he'd just sit there, watching your beautiful expressions while you slept with the flames licking at his back.

How he had longed to embrace you, but doing so would leave his scent on you. So instead, he did the only thing he could do for you.

He sang for you. Sang the very song he'd first heard you sing in the creek when they had been but children. And when the creases between your eyes would disappear, peace falling over your expression, that's when he'd confess his feelings for you and pour his very heart out to your unknowing form while you whispered his name as if you heard him. As if to beckon him to your dreams. 

You’d had the cutest habit of rolling around and somehow twisting the sheets around your body in something akin to a cocoon. On the draftier nights that left a shoulder or leg exposed, he could sooner resist tucking you in than a leaf staying still when the wind blew. He’d kiss the space right next to where your hand was, the silky material of your bedding a poor excuse to the soft flesh of your hand or cheek. 

Your mouth had always been off limits to him, but there were nights that you called so sweetly for him, your mind begging you to remember what had been taken from you. 

Everytime he thought to wake you and tell you everything, it came just as soon as it retreated, the image of your father’s pallid form drenched in his own blood forcing itself upon him while he’d spurted the words of warning: 

“She must never be told her memories were taken. If you do, the dark spirit that hurt her mother will steal away whatever memories she has left and she will wake every day with no anamnesis of you. As the only pureblooded female directly descended from the Lupine Antiquis, she presents a threat to their power that they wish to destroy.  If you truly wish to be her shield, you will heed that, boy.”

He’d lost count of how many suns had risen with that warning pervading his mind like venom. Always looming over his head, he had never managed to cure himself of it. 

Relief only came when he watched her, from behind the cover of foliage, and she ran through the fields, her hair unbound and free, with a smile that did find its way all the way into her irises. It seemed to glow brighter than the candlelight she’d leave by her bedside when she read through the letters he’d leave on her windowsill. He swore that from her perch on her bed, those orbs were impossibly more luminous. 

That same luminescence stayed there only when she spoke to her grandmother or close friend, Niva, of her mysterious suitor from the paper left on her window. When she found him, inevitably, in their dreams that, for years, she had thought only to be a fabrication of her mind’s whims. 

He moves toward the same rocky wall, walking through the curtain of vines and greenery without pause toward his destination.

He’s careful as he parts the strands of nature’s green hair, not wanting it to touch you and disturb your rest. 

The rustling sound of the grass beneath his feet is quieted by the same flowing water that had greeted him when he was a child all of those years ago, the proud creek she’d made her refuge when home became asphyxiating from the demands of elders children that asked much of her. 

The water sparkles now like thousands of diamonds atop of it, the green of the grass surrounding the bank of the pool emeraldine in color before the rocks bordering the pool of water. Even the trees stand at attention, devoted to shielding them from the rest of the world with boughs that contained leaves of every color that rivaled the precious stones he had fashioned into jewelry for her.

So much had happened since he’d first stepped foot here. And though your memories of him from before had been stolen, you’d never forgotten this place. 

And neither had he. 

His feet continue on past that creek, past the long basin of water that flows toward the smaller crevices in the earth, the thick forest around opening up to a meadow of lilies, lilacs, and lavender, the soft breaths of his slumbering beloved easing him while he carries you in his arms toward the large house of wood and glass in the distance. 

You’d always loved the color purple, your hands lingering a little too long on fabric of the shade or flowers with petals of the hue as if you wished the entire world could be painted in it. 

Purple like area around his wound had been when he’d come across her in the forest one night so many years ago and when they’d rendezvoused under the moon.

Not wanting to disturb her while she sang, he’d forgotten about the prick lodged in one of them when he tried to back up, only for him to have made a sound of pain. 

It had been enough to make the human figure before him finally turn, familiar kindness in those eyes of hers dispelling the dark of his doubts and troubles. 

She’d noticed right away the source of his discomfort, offering her gentle hands to him without a second thought. 

He’d been taught his entire existence never to show weakness to anyone, but this creature–this goddess with a voice tuned and tailored by the gods– she had him quickly lain on his belly and his head on her lap within minutes, the melodies of feelings that could neither be seen nor understood streaming from her lips while she quickly, effortlessly, and painlessly pulled the thorn out before wrapping his injured paw in a bandage of leaves and moss. 

He wonders if, somewhere in there, she’d been holding on and grasping for those little reminders of their time together even if she could not recall them fully. Like trying to grab for hay that kept disappearing no matter how many times one tried to get to it.

Still he walks on to the place he had built for her—a home he had crafted with his own hands, each beam and stone chosen with care.

The cabin stood there like something from the dreams he’d shared with her, its dark gray stonework grounding it firmly to the earth, while the warm, golden hues of the wood siding seemed to beckon the fading sunlight, blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the forest. A towering stone chimney rose from one side, smoke curling lazily into the sky.

But it was the windows that had taken him the longest to craft—the massive, sweeping wall of glass that spanned the entire second story. It framed the forest like a living painting, offering an uninterrupted view of the wild landscape beyond. The black frames around the windows gave the structure contrasted with the light brown of the main paneling composing the main frame of the house, while a glass-railed balcony stretched across the upper floor, inviting the master bedroom’s inhabitants to step out and drink in the vastness of the wilderness.

The soft glow of light spilling from the lower floor's windows added a warmth to the cabin, making it feel like a sanctuary tucked away in the forest's embrace. And the deck, broad and covered, stretched out beneath the overhang of the second story that was lined with the same bevy of vines from the curtain of it that veiled away her little creek. It offered a perfect space to sit and listen to the whisper of the trees in the wind that he knew she liked to hear. 

He treads board over the porch, the flickering flames that burn from their bronze sconces casting an inviting welcome upon the lower walls of stacked grey stone around them. 

He’d placed each stone by hand, fashioned every fixture and wood paneling, and been the sole architect and builder of this place from the ground up since he was a child.

All for her. 

And as he opens the double doors of glass, she is all he sees, his one hand tucking some of her fine hairs behind her ear. 

He looks not at the rugs of earthly colors he’d woven himself, nor the tables, chairs, or other pieces of furniture he’d built here, in this space, that decorate the main foyer that opens to the left to a grand kitchen, and to the right a spacious dining room. He doesn’t glance at the main den with its impressive stone chimney past the kitchen that, like the front of the house, has tall windows for walls that leave a grand view of the surrounding forest and valley beyond. 

In the back of that den are two doors opposite to each other on either side of the space–one a library full of books he’d spent years procuring from traders and adventuring merchants. 

And the other was a study complete with her writing desk, her writing utensils, her favorite velvet-lined lounge chair. 

All for her. 

He doesn’t spare a second of attention on any of that as he climbs the spiraling staircase around the chimney, the dark metal rail complementing the wood of the steps as he holds the greatest of his treasures in his arms while the candles he’d left lit in their bronze candelabras sitting on the end tables and countered nooks flitter about, his shadow and his beloved’s joining together behind them.

When he arrives at the top of the staircase, his footfalls are light over the floor in effort not to awaken his lover’s rest, her dark lashes fluttering minutely when he deposits her on the nest of white and black pelts blanketing the bed. Its four wooden posters hold a curtain of grey fabric that, in the moonlight, looks like it is speckled with moondust.

Still he lovingly gazes upon you as he sits beside you, his fingers tenderly carding their way through your hair as he whispers, “When you wake, my love, I will be waiting for you. Until then, rest. May your dreams be sweet and your slumber peaceful.”

He pulls the cord from around one post of the bed and then the other, not looking away from your beautiful form for a moment. It is because of this that he notices one of your hands, even while your eyes are still closed, reach toward him, his name tumbling from your lips when his weight disappears from next to you.  

That thing palpitating in his chest becomes fuller with the blood of his love for you at that, and he is quick to return to you after throwing another log into the stone fireplace built into one half-wall so that the chill of the night will not discomfort you even though the pillar candles he’d set into brass holders fan their warmth over to you.

When he lies beside you once more with the pelt he’d retrieved from the chest of birch wood at the foot of the bed, he gently covers you with it before slowly, tentatively guiding you toward him until your head rests on the pillow of his chest, a purring sound melting him when he hears it from your still figure. 

Still fast asleep, you rub your cheek into the solid plane of his pectoral, the pheromones of his that that wafts around comforting you as you lay one of your palms over his heart, its steady rhythm reaching for you even in dormancy.  

You nestle closer and closer until your front is somehow lain over his, your nose nudging up against his neck as you breathe in the black vanilla that only grew in the mountainside, the gardenia that you liked to grow in your garden, and pear that you liked to pick from the pear trees. It culminated into a heath of the scent of your love, his quiet breathing warming you more than any blanket could. 

When your purr is drawn down into a breath shaped around his name once more, your voice summons his mouth to your temple as he turns his head to leave a kiss there, strong arms wrapping around you to keep you close.

“I’m right here, my love. I always have, and I always will be.” He utters against your hairline, lips finding a spot at the top of your head to leave yet another of his kisses–this one softer than the last. 

With the love of his life secure in his embrace, he watches the way your lashes dance while you dream with unseeing eyes, wishing he could meet you in them. 

The sight of you so at peace makes his own lids grow heavy, and soon, he too is carried off into the realm of dreams. 

It is not until the wax of the candles on the bedside tables has begun to drip into the small bronze beds below them and the moon has risen to her throne in the night sky that the female in his arms is roused from her slumber. 

Your lids are still groggy with sleep as you blink at the view of your mate who lies beneath you, a serene expression tenderizing his features into one more youthful and absent of lines that mark the obstacles of maturity. 

Your wolf, now awake at the sight of your alpha, does not let you rest until you have satisfied the sudden need to touch him–to make sure this is real. 

That he’s real and finally, finally yours. 

So you sit up a little, using the hand you have on his chest to support you, the pads of your fingers on your other nimbly dragging across the area under one of his eyes. He doesn’t stir, and so you let your digits slide down the side of his cheek before they glide under his lower lip. 

His breaths are even as they billow against your finger when your thumb glides over the plush cushion of his lip, and when his eyes open to reveal those golden discs of the sun in them, it takes your breath away in how they are incandescent as the candlelight around him. 

“Good evening to you, too, my love,” his hand is there, wrapping itself around your wrist so he can bring your finger to his lips, both of them converging so he can present the proper attention to your digit as the pillows of both reach for you. “How are you feeling?”

Not even five seconds spent outside of sleep, and his first concern was you. 

The fact makes that emotion from before envelop you, and when you try to press yourself more against him, that’s when you realize you’ve been encased in furs around your lower half. You don’t remember those from before. The last thing you could recall was the bathhouse where you’d fallen into his arms from blood loss. 

As you ogle the bedroom around you, the air itself has been claimed completely by your alpha, his pleasing scent everywhere at once. 

Why was it getting hotter the longer that enticing aroma swirled under your nostrils? Why did it emanate your mate’s very name everywhere you looked?

The answer comes when your mate releases you from his hold, both arms bending under him so he can lean back on them while the muscles scaling his arms jump at the motion and a loud, sharp whine fills the chamber. 

Your skin feels clammy, but you know that the cold would be nipping at you if you were outside. 

You only realize you’re whimpering when one of his large hands settles on your hip and he croons, “It’s okay, my love. I brought you home. You can do whatever you wish here. This place is all for you.” 

Words seem insufficient now, but even if you could voice them, what comes out is: “Hot…I-I…I’m hot.”

“I know, my love. Your scent shifted as you slept.” He helps you kick off the blanket, for it fails to offer the warmth he did as you succumb to the insistent itch to be nearer, closer, nigher to him before you climb onto his lap while he lets you. 

“Why?” Your breath comes out short, like a pant, your dress suddenly feeling too heavy and constricting on your body. You try to pull at one of the sleeves, and when he watches that, the pink of his tongue slipping over his bottom lip, the answer becomes evident in the slick that rolls down your thigh onto the edge of his bare waist from where you straddle him. 

The hand he doesn’t hold you with curls into a fist in effort to control himself, his teeth biting into the flesh of his cheek as he tells you, “Your heat, my love. You are in heat.” 

The answer has your thighs closing themselves around him persistently, unwilling to let him go. As if your mind has been filled with water, it is difficult to breach for clear thought, your body acting for you even though your thoughts are leagues behind. 

It’s too hot here, under these heavy layers of your dress. You need to get out of it. 

“H-hot…alpha…please,” You whimper meekly, your fingers fumbling for the v-lined neckline of your gown in effort to get it off while your hips roll into his, the hardness your bare sex rubs against obvious in his want for you. 

His irises scintillate from where watches you above him, the hand he has on your hip squeezing strongly around you while the fingernails of his other leave crescents in the meat of his palm. By their nature, when an omega was in heat, they became vulnerable, losing most if not all of their rationale and reason over the impulse of their instincts. Instincts that demanded an omega to be bred by an alpha.

While your mind is clearly addled under the sweltering waves of heat, you can hardly say anything but the name of the only male your very soul yearned for. 

“Jungkook, n-need…w-want-”

Those are the words that he needs to hear, the nagging worry that had begun to set in expelled at the call of his name. An omega that was able to speak was one that was not too far gone into their urges such that they were unaware of their actions and incapable of deciding whether they wanted to be mounted or not by an alpha.

“I want to take care of you, my love. I want to help you so badly.” He sits up, his other hand sidling up your lower back, your spine, and finally along your nape where he cups the back of your neck so he can bring you to his waiting lips. “But you have to use your voice for me, my love. I need to make sure that it isn’t your heat that makes the choice for you. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes…a-alpha,” You let him affix his mouth to yours, the wet warmth of him making you moan into his mouth while you continue to tug at your neckline in how tight it has become. He makes no move to deepen the kiss, simply content to breathe in your air and feel you against him while your hips undulate against him.

There is no room for embarrassment when all you can think about is him. And he treats you as if you are a shy spirit that could run from him if your sudden boldness catches up to you.

You fight the eddies of your heat that make thoughts want to sink before they can make it to the surface of your mind, but his words and restraint had been the anchor that you needed to make it there for a momentary breach of lucidity. 

The mist of desire that had settled over your eyes clears when you open them for him, and there he sees the clarity of your decision that is unmistakable as the stars in the sky when you reach out for him through the invisible bond tying you together. 

I want this, alpha. Please, help me. I…I need you.

He dives into the depths of your eyes, plunging forth to unearth any unsurety in you. 

He finds none. 

His other hand scales up your side, fingers slipping under one of the thin straps of your gown that hides you from him. There they stay until you disconnect your lips from his, a string of saliva lengthening between you until it breaks. 

“Are you sure, my love?” He checks one more time, needing your assurance. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else, alpha,” you earnestly encourage, covering his hand with yours and coaxing one of strap over and down your shoulder. 

Slowly, the long train of your sleeve pools at your waist, one half of your chest now free from the prison of its fabric binding. 

His mouth waters at the exposed skin you have granted him the gift of seeing, the larger and calloused pads of his fingers tracing around your breast while you let out a sigh of satisfaction at the feeling. 

“You are so beautiful, my love. So, so beautiful.” He adulates while his fingers wander downwards toward your navel as your cheeks burn at the praise. Heat simmers under wherever he touches, and when the fabric of your bodice hinders him from going any lower, his digits ascend toward the other side of your chest. This time, you let your arm fall back toward your side, waiting patiently for him to unfetter your other breast from its confines. 

He tugs it down as if uncovering a prized jewel, your skin all but glittering in the moonlight and candlelight that convalesce against you. 

Little by little he undresses you atop of him, your hands falling over each of his shoulders when both of his arms wind around your back to untie and loosen the strings of your bodice one by one. You swallow his breaths like they are all the sustenance you could ever need, and he greedily sups yours when he doesn’t have his mouth latched to yours. 

When the last of the lacings are undone and your bodice and sleeves, like your skirts, lie in a heap around your waist, he pulls away and your breathless pants entice his eyes down where old blood, dried spit, and half-moon shapes made by his teeth mark you from navel to neck. 

He looks at you like you’re a goddess without wings, and that avid attention makes your heart take flight in your chest as he takes one of your breasts into his hand, holding you there while you make a sound of need that, to him, is a delicate song. 

“I had my fantasies of you, but nothing I could have ever tried to picture could ever have been as good as this.” He husks, his other hand cradling your other breast before each of his thumbs curve inward, the pads of them rubbing along that pink bud of your nipples. “Your tits are so fucking pretty. So fucking perfect in my hands. Just like the rest of you.” 

The stimulation makes a rush of arousal flood your body, your eyes misting over once again while you plunge back under the haze of your heat as you cry out for him, your hips, to their own tune, rutting into his in search of friction. When he squeezes, massaging and kneading his fingers into your tits, it only has your hips working harder against him while you moan for him.

He captures your mouth with his, flipping you both over after releasing your tits so he cushions your head with one of them and brace himself with his other, a smirk playing at his lips when you reach both arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him down toward your waiting lips. 

“I used to think about how I was going to mount you for the first time, pretty girl,”  the rings of gold in his eyes beckon your attention as he nudges his knee between yours so that you have something to rut your hips into, for he hadn’t missed the subtle sway of them when you’d been atop of him earlier. “This is exactly what I imagined. You, bare and waiting for me, on the bed I made with my own hands just for you. In the den I built just for you.” 

[biancadoes1]

The funny this is i keep seeing "don't criticize Nicola" "she never said they were together" "stop twisting her speech" "she can bring him with her" "media outlet write what they want she can't stop it" "this wouldn't happen if it were Luke" "Nicola didn't say she wanted to be shipped" "Nicola never played games you interpreted it that way" "you are focusing on the man like she said she didn't want to"

All valid points made. We all have opinions and that's ok. The pattern I see is that:

1. Every single group in this fandom has said critical things and non critical things about Nicola and Luke. That should be accepted as fact because there is evidence out there. There are valid points made about things they have and have not done - professionally and what they have shown us personally. There are valid points about the reactions towards them that are/are not fair or good. No one is above critique or praise but it is how it is done that makes the difference. I see a lot of policing of opinions but some of the same persons doing the policing do not try to look at things from different angles and they do not take into consideration they at one point also held the same critiques. They shouldn't police anyone if they are being hypocritical.

2. Seeing something presented and questioning it doesn't necessarily translate to hate. Observing something is off or not the usual of the person character that is presented is not hate. Trying to come up with a theory to explain something isn't hate. Disagreeing with a fashion choice is not hate. Disagreeing with a choice of partner is not hate, it's not our business but it isn't hate. Rereading statements and trying to align that to their actions that goes against somethings they say is not hate. Pointing out where a public figure may have erred is not hate. Having a difference of opinion with another fandom member is not hate. Calling out media publications for articles is not hate. Calling out trolls or trolling behaviour is not hate.

3. What is hate is bullying, trolling, doxxing, name calling, extreme anger towards a celebrity who do not fit expectations and translating that anger into bullying/name calling/online sabotage. Doing the same to people in their circle is hate. Doing the same to others in the fandoms is hate. Doing it unprovoked is hate. Coordinated hit posts/tweets saying vile things about a stranger who happens to be an actor we see on screen is hate. Coordinated hit posts/tweets saying vile things about anyone in the fandom is hate.

4. Hate is a charged emotion that have left a sour taste in the fandom. From all sides not just one.

I only bring this up as I'm seeing the same flaming fire on Tumblr. Blogs are going after each other, calling people names doing the most. Bloggers are being targeted with rude anons or comments. It's ok to call out things that are not right. It's ok to have opinions that differ. It's ok to not like what someone shares on their blog. It's ok to have a change of heart or change of opinion. But the way I've seen it being done is like people are happy to be nasty with their words behind a screen. It isn't even necessary and it's adults doing this. We can enjoy the fandom, we can enjoy our differences, we can enjoy when we misunderstand something and get more information to update what we know/see. We can easily enjoy the actors' work and whatever else about them that draws us to them. They should not be idolized they are not gods. We can enjoy funny posts and reminiscence on past things. It does not matter where you stand in the fandom group/sub group the basic idea is to just enjoy the show.

It's become a nasty space and I see why some people are leaving.

It’s getting pretty bad and a lot of people are getting tired of it.

[annagaw]

the medical significance of Draco Malfoy Holding A Baby™: a micro-trope reading list

I am at a very particular point in my hormonal cycle and god damn it once again I have been asking the sub to rescue me in my time of need. It is at present biologically necessary for me to absorb content featuring Draco Malfoy Holding A Baby™.

In case anybody else suffers from the same health condition (called "having a uterus and dipping one toe into my 30s" - it is extremely serious and requires constant intervention), please allow me to share the fics that I have so far read and awarded this tag. I shall endeavour to update the list as I add to it.

For science, you understand.

NB: I have hidden fics for which baby content might be considered spoilers, but have not done so for fics in which the primary focus is pregnancy/childbirth. If you find the appearance of a baby at the end of your HEA pregnancy fic shocking, fair enough, but I refuse to hide the truth from you. Also there are a great many more wonderful fics that feature this trope than the ones on this list - this is merely a curated selection and not my definitive statement on which are Good.

-

Two Idiots and a Baby by ellemenno (M, 27k) - One could be forgiven for thinking that the sole motivation for writing this fic was to find an excuse to get Draco and that baby in the same room and let the magic happen - because my god does the magic happen! But ellemenno has the audacity to deliver it to us with as much style and humour as possible. The fact that this baby situation is occurring within a genuinely intriguing murder mystery and a hilarious idiots-in-denial, colleagues-in-love plot (reminiscent of Bad Omens and Scary Partner Privilege) is especially impressive. It contains another favourite micro-trope of mine: the Very Professional Business Sleepover.

Love and Other Historical Accidents by PacificRimbaud (M, 154k) - I know for a fact that this fic was the beginning of this particular fixation for me. It was one of the first fics I read when I discovered Dramione, and it lured me in by my need for regency romance, keeping me all distracted, before slapping me in the face with this perfect baby scene that I still think about constantly. Draco? Draco Malfoy? Having a one-sided conversation with a baby while staring out a window in a regency suit? Fetch the smelling salts, drag the bloody fainting couch over here, I am destined to swoon!

Cave, [Redacted] (E, 31k) / An Auror’s Guide to Horizontal Dueling (E, 16k) by Accio_Funky_Pants - Now, if Draco Malfoy merely holding a baby does funny things to your reproductive organs, let me tell you, you are not even ready for Draco Malfoy delivering a baby! (Hermione's baby, to be exact.) I used to struggle to read childbirth scenes, but the first fic is multiple chapters of...well, exactly that, and it is magnificent. Intimate, cathartic, warms every last cockle of your heart - truly not a cold cockle nor a dry eye left in the house (and no babies left in wombs either). The sequel fic is an extended epilogue in which, yes, you guessed it, Draco interacts yet again with a baby (and then gets laid after everyone demonstrates an extremely thorough understanding of consent). Good for him!

Witching Hour by neilistic (E, 12k) - This one is so overwhelmingly tender, I skimmed it a moment ago to make sure I remembered the plot and that alone nearly succeeded in wringing tears from me. Nice try, neilistic! (No, really, a masterful effort.) There's nothing like two people bonding over their trauma, their loneliness...but (gently) toss some tiny newborn babies into the mix? A dirty trick, designed to undo me, specifically. Ungentlemanly. (But neither half of Dramione have the energy here to be gentlemen. Oh, and did I mention? There's only one bed.)

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale (T, 237k) - The whole cast of OC Granger-Malfoy offspring in this are completely charming. They're all distinct from each other, kind of weirdos in their own way, and I respect the hell out of it - they really do feel like the children of this particular iteration of Dramione. Hermione works a lot, Draco is a very hands-on father, and everything about their dynamic here feels so lived-in and safe, even when the rest of the world is not: their inside jokes and shorthand, their domestic routines, the way their kids make fun of them, all of it! And then there's just copious amounts of Draco handling babies. I rest my case.

epiphanies by HawthorneWhisperer (M, 31k) - single dad Draco gets a lot of page time in this fandom, and deservedly so. Yes, he is a father, but - more importantly - he is Daddy, and this fic wants you to know that it knows that. It is a perfect bite-sized distillation of everything enjoyable about this trope. Special shout-out to baby Scorpius' chubby little limbs, the real MVPs.

Mind the Bump by Soap1 (E, 84k) - There are an overwhelming amount of unplanned pregnancy fics out there - and believe me that could not be further from a complaint (for you see I need my delicious trope soups, their fertile broths sustain me) (I do hate that I typed that). This one has every ingredient necessary for a balanced diet - lots of lovely gentle caretaking and medically-enforced proximity, small bite-size pieces of drama to keep things a little spicy (please, soup metaphor, let me die). Oh! And...what's this? I won't name names, but did two people bring along all of their emotional baggage from their previous relationships with them? Well, I suppose we have room to store it all somewhere in the Manor.

Pros and Cons by ChaosAndCrumpets (E, 48k) - An unplanned pregnancy fic where everything happens in the run up to an election, a famously relaxing time, especially when you are the present M-oh-M! This fic gives you a political strategist Draco of such dazzling competence that it begs the question: is Draco holding a baby merely a matter of perspective? Perhaps anyone held by such a man is rendered a baby in comparison? But don't worry there's a literal baby too (eventually), and before that there's a disgusting slimy baby-man: Cormac McLaggen! (Though, unlike a baby, McLaggen is never held by anyone willingly, or Draco ever.)

The Pureblood Society of Stay-At-Home Dads by PurpleSugarQuills (E, 2k) - I feel like all the information you really need about this one can be contained in one exceptionally powerful sentence: it begins with Draco getting up to do the night feed with a sleepy little four month old. Hush, little one. Domesticated Draco has come to take care of you. Daddy's home. (Which makes sense because he works here.)

Wait And Hope (M, 95k) / Beginning and End (E, 242k) by mightbewriting - Although I do of course love Draco interacting with his own homemade organic babies, my actual favourite iteration of this trope is the moment that Hermione sees Draco with literally any generic brand baby for the first time, and is like, "oh. I see. I had not considered this. I did not know this would feel this way." And that is captured so very beautifully in both of these fics, at different moments, in different ways (and literally remarked upon by Ginny in the former).

Entries below the break contain mild to moderate spoilers

BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah (E, 195k) - You would think that the ceaseless emotional and literal carnage of this fic would prepare me for how unhinged Draco would be as a father and how much it would Affect Me Personally. Alas, apparently fucking not. Draco striding into the pub with his baby that nobody else is allowed to hold? Draco napping with his baby? Don't touch that baby! That baby is His Baby. (And that Draco is My Blorbo.)

I Love You Always Forever by EvergreenTuesdays (E, 13k) - This is a somewhat unhinged addition to the list, because yes, that is a baby Draco has in one arm, but in the other hand I'm pretty sure I'm clocking the remains of a dead dove. Distinctly un-chic. Yet undoubtedly compelling. This one has forced marriage, domestic abuse, murder, gore, a gorgeous (but graphic) illustration...and is also tagged "MILF Hermione". So something for everyone, really!

[tpwk-formula1]

2K event

I was looking at my blog for the first time in months in I noticed today that I am less than 300 followers away from hitting 2k and when I do hit it I will be doing an event to celebrate since I didn't for hitting 1K which was my original plan but I hit it so fast I had no time to prepare.

I have made a list of 15 fics I want to do but I need you guys to pick which driver you want to see! Just message me with which driver you want to see for a specific story! Once a fic has been claimed I will update this page! It will be first come first serve.

Some of these might even become a universe here at Lee-Lee's so if you end up falling in love with a story send in requests for it to keep it alive!

Masterlist (Will link once every AU has been claimed)

Side Note: I am trying to keep this as diverse as possible so I will more than likely not be using the same driver more than once (other than our Wag x Driver x Reader threesome)

Prompts for event

Porn star! Carlos X innocent! reader (Claimed)

Y/N is the innocent college student who secretly pays for a subscription on a porn sight to watch her favorite actor. When she finally starts using all the features her subscription has to offer she starts to build a little relationship with the man behind the screen.

Kinks involved - innocent kink, phone/ facetime sex, virginity loss, long-term edging, corruption, first orgasm

Tattoo artist! Lewis X piercer! reader (claimed)

Y/N is the new piercer her boss can't seem to take his eyes off of. What happens when he gets the bright idea of having reader give him a Jacob's ladder piercing. It becomes the start of their unprofessional relationship inside and outside the walls of his shop.

Kinks involved - body modifications (piercings and tattoos), oral (HUGE oral kink), forced orgasms, pleasure dom

Virgin! Oscar X PR manager! Reader (claimed)

Y/N has watched the way her driver interacts with fans and can't help but slightly fall in love with him, but what happens when she finds out he's spent his whole life working towards his career that he has never had a girlfriend or sex for that matter. She makes it her mission to corrupt and tease the driver until she gets what she wants.

Kinks involved - CORRUPTION KINK, sub! driver, loss of virginity

Charles X Pay for Sex! reader (claimed)

When Y/N gets a hefty payment to spend an entire weekend in Monaco fully paid for she's shocked to find a F1 driver on the other side of the door. She spends the weekend being his sex slave.

Kinks involved - sex slave, FREE USE

Pierre x Max X Reader (Claimed)

When Y/N brings up the idea of spicing up their sex life she's shocked to find her boyfriend brings up the idea of being with one of the other drivers on the grid. She's even more shocked when they make it back to his place to find a full furnished and decorated sex room.

Kinks involved - threesome, toys, bondage, edging, multiple orgasms

Lando X Luisha X reader (Claimed)

When Y/N and her WAG bestie start a low-key affair behind her best friend's back their shocked when her boy friend finds out and instead of him being upset is only rule is he gets to join sometimes.

Kinks involved - CHEATING (not a kink but a TW), threesome, wlw

Oscar X Bookworm! Reader (claimed)

When her boyfriend over hears her on the phone talking about how hot some of the scenes in her book are and how she wishes she was getting fucked like that her boyfriend can't help himself the next time she's reading.

Kinks involved - rough sex, oral

Frat boy! Lando X Sorority president! reader (Claimed)

Y/N and the president of her brother fraternity have been close since their first year joining the sorority and over the years they've had their moments but nothing to crazy, but after one drunk night that all changes.

Kinks involved - drunk/ high sex

Retired! sebastian x Young! driver (Claimed)

Y/N has always been a huge fan of (driver) and when he becomes her mentor her rookie season some questionable training builds between the two. Her reward and punishment system would have almost anyone else clutching their pearls but for Y/N it works.

Kinks involved - Dom/Sub, spanking, edging, multiple orgasms

Gabriel X Older! Reader (claimed)

Being Lando Norris's twin sister made for the most interesting childhood and now she's grown and working for Mclaren, but what happens when she catches the eye of one of the rookies.

Kinks involved - Quickies, sneaking around, caught in the act

Single Dad! Max X Nanny! reader (claimed)

When the newly divorced dad needs to have a full time live in nanny he goes on a long search to find the perfect person to take care of his twins.

Kinks involved - Age gap, low-key slow burn (Lots of plot with lots of porn)

CEO! Toto X Assistant! Reader (claimed)

Y/N is the new assistant to the rich and powerful CEO of Mercedes Racing. She's young but she knows how to do her job damn good. Her boss can't help but slightly fall in love with her.

Kinks involved - SOFTER SEX! Age gap, oral, breeding kink (LIKE HEAVY)

Nico X Ollie's Older Sister! Reader (claimed)

Daniel X (surprise) (I will announce this one once the materlist is created)

For the final fic it will be from my Paddock Bunny universe! It will be the whole grid x Y/N Brown! For this one send me in ideas or scenes you would want to see!

[domnamewoman]

I was wondering if I could request an angst we’re all of the MK 2023 characters S/O get turned injured severely by Titian Shang Tsung (could have a happy end, could not…up too you!)

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: Angst 😭, Canon-Typical Violence

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

Liu Kang’s heart stopped as he saw your body lying there, lifeless on the ground. He bent down to cradle you in his arms as tears fell from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it, the love of his life was now gone. He blamed himself for not getting there in time. Why was fate always so cruel, was he really destined to be alone? No, no he wouldn’t accept it. He was the Keeper of Time. He would reverse time and make sure that he is here to prevent such a horrid outcome. He would end Titan Shang Tsung once and for all.

Raiden felt as though he could throw up as he looked at your unconscious body lying in the bed. Titan Shang Tsung had blasted you off a cliff and you hit your head on a rock when you landed. The physician told Raiden that you were in a coma from the head injury. There was no telling when you would wake up or if you ever would. Raiden held your hand and rested his forehead on it as he let his tears fall. All he could do was stay by your side and wait. And he would, even if it was forever.

Kung Lao was angry. At himself for not being there, at the physicians for not being able to save you, but mostly at Titan Shang Tsung. He was the cause of all of this. Kung Lao placed one last kiss on your lips as he promised you to get revenge. He would stop at nothing to see Titan Shang Tsung taken down. He pushed his grief to the side and focused on making a plan to get to Titan Shang Tsung. He would grieve once his promise to you was fulfilled.

Johnny Cage struggled to find meaning in anything anymore. Without you, there just wasn’t any point to life for Johnny. Who cared about the movies, or the awards, or even saving Earthrealm from destruction? He couldn’t bring you back by doing any of it so he deemed it all useless. Johnny stopped trying, losing his arrogance and bravado. How great is “Johnny Cage” if he can’t even save his love? He was nothing but a failure in his eyes now and that’s how he would live.

Kenshi Takahashi felt all the joy in his life slipping away as he felt your blood slip through his fingers where he was applying pressure to your wound. He tried to smile and reassure you that the physician was on their way and you would make it out alive but he knew it was too late. He knelt there, helpless as you exhaled your final breath, going completely limp. Kenshi sat there with you in his arms for hours, pushing away Johnny and Kung Lao as they tried to get him to let you go. He couldn’t, not ever.

Kitana released a scream as she heard your neck snap at the hands of Titan Shang Tsung. Why? Why did it have to be you to charge at him? Why didn’t you listen to her when she told you to wait? Why couldn’t she move fast enough to prevent this from happening? Kitana gripped your shirt and cried into your chest as the fight continued around her. How was she supposed to go on? But she had to, for you. It’s what you would have wanted her to do. She vows to you as she grabs her bladed fans that she will avenge your death.

Mileena spent all of her time trying to find someone to help you. She was the Empress and she would spare no cost of getting the best physicians, the best medicine, whatever was needed to accelerate your healing process. The court could be mad all they wanted, but she didn’t care about her duties. Her only priority right now was seeing you healthy and back on your feet again. The only thing that could distract her from this is any updates on Titan Shang Tsung’s whereabouts. She would make sure that he died by her hands for harming her love.

Tanya watched in unbelief as Titan Shang Tsung stuck his claws deep into your abdomen. You crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. Tanya rushed over and held you in her arms. She didn’t know how could she let this happen. She was Umgadi for goodness sake. And yet, she could protect her love from danger. She pulled you out of the path of battle, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be as she applied pressure to your wounds. She would make sure that you survived no matter what.

Bi-Han was filled with rage. Titan Shang Tsung dared to take his love away from him. How could Bi-Han call himself Earthrealm’s protector when he couldn’t even protect you? No, he would make Titan Shang Tsung pay for what he did. Bi-Han would gather all of the Lin Kuei and hunt him down. No longer was their purpose protecting Earthrealm. Their only mission was to kill Titan Shang Tsung to avenge the death of his lover. Nothing else mattered or was more important to him.

Kuai Liang couldn’t control the fire rolling off of his body as he saw you there unmoving, at Titan Shang Tsung’s feet. He rushed toward him, swinging out his chained knives aiming for his head. Kuai Liang fought with everything in him, letting his anger fuel his fire. He didn’t worry about his own well-being, what was the point now that you were gone? He ignored all the pain from his injuries and pressed on. He would put an end to Titan Shang Tsung, or he would die trying.

Tomas ran with all his might holding on to your limp body. He had to get you to a physician and quick. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t lose another family member. After his family was killed and he joined the Lin Kuei, he thought he would never have to go through heartache like that again. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. He pleaded with you to stay with him as he looked down at you taking shallow breaths. He ignored the burning in his legs and he pushed himself to run faster. He won’t lose you too.

Syzoth didn’t believe what they told him when he arrived at the palace. How could you be dead? It wasn’t possible. While he was out on a mission Titan Shang Tsung attacked? No, no that couldn’t be. He continued to deny it until they brought him to see your body. This couldn’t be happening to him again. Why could he never protect his loved ones? Why did he always have to be left completely alone? He will get his revenge. He will take away everything that Titan Shang Tsung has ever held dear.

Baraka knew that fate could be cruel when he got infected with Tarkat. But he thought he would be allowed some form of happiness in his life. That proved to be wrong when you were killed, leaving him all alone. Baraka could feel his sanity slipping. He was left with nothing yet again. The only one he loved was taken from him. All he could think about was shredding Titan Shang Tsung into pieces. He would turn into the savage beast everyone thought he was. He had nothing more to lose.

Shang Tsung couldn’t believe you were killed. To make matters worse, it was at the hands of his doppelganger. Shang Tsung would question what type of person he was for there to be a version of himself out there that would commit such a heinous act. Shang Tsung would practice all the sorcery in the world to find a way to bring you back. He didn’t care how many souls he had to steal. Starting with the soul of Titan Shang Tsung. He would prove that he was the best version in all timelines.

Zeffeero dropped to his knees in front of your lifeless body. What was it all for? He spent all his time trying to get power and status and for what? Just for the beloved to no longer be a part of his life? Zeffeero looked up, no one seemed to notice you, the most important person to him, lying on the cold ground. No, they didn’t get to go on with their lives like nothing happened. He would ruin their lives just like his now was. He would rain down an endless flood and drown them all.

[thinkofhee]

Jersey #04

Pairings : Enemy!Jungwon x F!Reader

Summary: There was a Basketball Tournament in the court of your school. You went there only because your crush was playing too. You wore his jersey but Jungwon saw you. "You're gonna change, whether you like it or not."

warnings: dom!jw x sub!reader, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), orgasm denial, overstimulation, hair pulling, mentions of Yunjin & Chaewon from Lesserafim (lmk if I missed anything)

"Babes!!" Yunjin called me as I walked up to her. "Why?" You asked, confused why she called you— "There's a basketball game and your crush, Heeseung is going to be playing! Your enemy too" You weren't aware nor updated because you've been pretty busy with your thesis. "Eyy, are you gonna watch later?" She asked you, and you nodded.

You planned on wearing your crushes jersey, considering he gave you one a couple weeks ago.

-

You changed into his jersey and started walking to the court. But someone stopped you— It was Jungwon..

"Let go, Jungwon. I don't have the time for your shit" You say, pissed off, trying to shake his hands off.

He pulls you to the side and holds your waist.— "why are you wearing a jersey that's not mine, Y/n?" He asked, looking directly in your eyes like he was about to eat you alive.

"Why do you care?" You say in a sassy tone and roll your eyes. "Change into mine, right now" Jungwon says in a deep, stern tone. Honestly, you were pretty intimidated but you weren't going to let that affect you.

"I'm not doing it, Jungwon. Let go" You say in a bored-like tone while pushing him away. He just grips you harder and tugs on the jersey.

"Wear mine. Right now" You shake your head, "I'm not gonna repeat it again, Lee Y/n." He says coldly, You knew what was going to happen at this point. He was gonna be a snitch to your parents, knowing they and his parents are bestfriends and he has done it before too!

"Ok! Fine!" He smiles when he heard that, He went to his locker and gets another pair of his jersey and gives it to you.

-

You changed into his jersey and is now in the court. Watching them warm up.

Chaewon seems to be looking at you up and down, "Damn, Y/n, I thought you were going to wear the jersey of YOUR crush? Is Jungwon really your crush, hm?" She teasingly asks you. But you shrugged her off.

-

The game was about to end, A tough battle was happening..

Jungwon manages to get the ball and shoot!

The crowd cheers for him, As for you, You were shocked aand amazed by his skills. You didn't think he was THAT good in Basketball.

-

Everyone, Including you left the court. You were walking in the hallway, Alone, Since Yunjin and Chaewon decided to go and talk to their crushes.

You were scrolling through your phone when someone suddenly puts his arm around your shoulder.

"Did I do good? Did I impress you?" He smiles and looks at you. You looked at him and nodded without realizing it.

"Let's celebrate at my house? 7?" He invites you, You agreed.

-

You rang the doorbell wearing the shorts you wore earlier and a sweater.

Jungwon opens the door and greets you, "Glad you actually came" He chuckles. "Well, I actually do attend unlike you who I invited to my party last last year yet you didn't come!"

-

That's the last thing you remembered before you start getting a little drunk. You were flirting with Jungwon. If you were in your conscious state, You would probably be vomiting knowing that.

He smirks obliviously while he wraps his hands on your waist, Your arms were wrapped on his neck.

He leans down and kisses you, You kissed him back.

Both of your tongues were fighting for dominance while slowly entering the bedroom.

Small, low moans came out from your mouth. The door locking as you both enter Jungwon's bedroom.

You layed down, panting. He climbs over you and starts pressing kisses from your neck to your collarbone.

"J-jungwon, Please.." You moaned out as he marked you.

"Hm? Yes, princess?" He smirks. "What does my princess want?" He asks you like an innocent child while his fingers start roaming your body.

Your back arched when he presses his fingers onto your still clothed cunt.

"Please, Please..Touch me" You moaned out, Feeling desperate as you grinded on his fingers. He pins your waist down to prevent you from grinding.

You whined, Desperate to meet release. He removes your shorts and sees a wet spot on your panties. That made him grow more confidence.

"I haven't even done more to you yet you're this wet?" He chuckles as he drags his finger on your wet pussy. You whimper when all of a sudden he shoved two fingers in.

"W-Wait!" You screech, Feeling pleasure and pain as his fingers stretch you out.

"I thought you wanted this, Y/n?" He chuckles as his fingers go in and out, Not even halting to stop.

He hits that one spot that has you arching your back, You moaned with pleasure.

"I t-think I-I'm.." You started but you couldn't compose a sentence because Jungwon still doesn't halt and hits that spot repeatedly which dragged you to your edge.

"Cumming!" You stated as you finally released.

You were panting when all of a sudden, Jungwon plunges three fingers and mercilessly pound it into your pussy, overstimulating your cunt.

"N-no!! Shit, I'm sensitive!"

"But you wanted this, Right? Me overstimulating your tight little cunt? Huh, Princess?"

Eventually, You once again reached your high and feeling exhausted. This time he let you recover first.

Not long while later, He started unbuckling his belt and took of his pants, Revealing his fully hard shaft.

You gulped at the sight, "Will it fit?" Runs your mind.

"Yes, It will fit. I'll make it fit" He mumbles while he goes close to you, You were shocked because he knew what was on your mind!

He started rubbing the tip to tease you, He was having fun doing so. But it didn't take a while when he entered.

"I-It won't fit!" Scared something might happen but he didn't mind. Instead he switched your places, You were now on top of him.

"Go ahead princess, Do it yourself"

Your shaky hands start doing so, But it hurt you that you only entered the tip.

But all of a sudden he thrust up and slammed himself whole. You moaned because of both pleasure and pain.

"C'mon, Ride it. Do I have to do it all myself again?"

You immediately follow him as you start to ride him, slowly. You fasten up your phase and his hands hold your waist for control.

Eventually you got tired and he took control again. He gripped your waist and started bouncing you on his dick.

You both moaned in unison as you both chase your high.

"C-close!" You tell him, Not long after, Both of you came..

-

You woke up, Legs feeling sore. You look around your surroundings to find Jungwon laying beside you and hugging you by the waist. Still peacefully sleeping.

-

a/n: this is my first ever fic, so I'm sorry if it's not too well written as I'm still practicing my skills! But I hope you enjoyed the ficcc, pls also leave suggestions on how to improve my writing :,) thanku!!!

-

[nvtstvrns]

Lazy - Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x female reader

In which: Chris gets home late and you’re waiting for him, which leads to soft slow sex.

SoftDom!chris, sub!reader, oral, pussy eating, lazy sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

TW: oral, mommy kink (ma, mommy, mama) and anything else I missed

A/N: this is a Chris version of the same concept of the Matt one. Thanks for reading and enjoy.

I was waiting up for my boyfriend Chris and his brothers to come home from filming a new car video. They were out really late tonight, it was almost 3am. I had turned on the tv a while ago to calm my nerves. I always got nervous when they went out to do their car videos, anything could happen. And when I watch their car videos back I notice things and I start to worry more. I take a deep breath and get out my phone to text Chris.

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎?

𝚢𝚎𝚊, 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝟷𝟻

He was always so quick to answer it was so relieving to me. He never left me in the dark with anything always keeping me updated. For some reason tonight of all nights I was really missing him and just craved him to be next to me, so when I heard that door open I leave his room and I meet them at the door. I jump into Chris’s arms.

“Hey ma…” he says as he drops his stuff on the floor Matt and Nick standing behind him. I bury my face in his shoulder.

“I missed you…” I say holding him tighter. He chuckles and me closer. I felt so safe now and so calm in his arms, when he’s not here, I can’t sleep. I was planning on going to bed early tonight but I forgot it was Thursday and they had to film for tomorrow’s Friday video.

“We were gone for two hours, you didn’t miss me,” Chris says setting me back down on the ground. I’m kind of sad to be placed back on the ground.

“I needa take a shower, can you wait f’me for 15 minutes?” He asks as he walks into his bedroom. I follow close behind him like a puppy dog. He walks into his bathroom and takes off his shirt.

“Or I could just…not wait.” I say leaning my head on his bare shoulder. I leave small kisses on his shoulder and I run my hands down his arms. I take a seat on the closed toilet seat and I watch him turn on the shower.

“Can I join you?” I ask as I start to pull off my tank top.

“Get your ass in there ma.” He says watching me take my clothes off. I smile and take my shorts off next kicking them off my ankles as I quickly try to get in the shower.

“I think we should turn off the lights…” he tells me standing on the outside of the shower.

“Sure.” I say adjusting the water so it’s hot. He turns off the lights and closes the door. He stands in the shower with me and closes the door. I stand facing away from him letting the warm water wash over me. I feel his hands snake around my waist.

I smile as I turn around to face him, I put my hands on his cheeks and kiss him gently.

“I fucking love you.” He says as he pulls me closer to him and kisses me deeper. When he pulls away we’re both gasping for air.

“Chris it’s almost 4am we gotta go to bed…” I say keeping my arms draped over his neck. He turns the water off and opens the door, I shiver. He wraps towel around his waist and then wraps one around me. “Let’s go to bed then.” He says.

I feel him pick me up and he carries me bridal style into the bed.

“Chris! I’m still wet!” I say resisting him putting me down on the bed.

“Then fucking dry off?” He says putting me on the ground instead of the bed. I hold my arms out waiting for him to dry me off.

“You seriously need help, you’re stupid.” He says as he takes my towel and starts drying me off. He lingers for a second on my breasts and then he throws the towel to the side and puts me on the bed. He climbs on top of me and kisses me gently.

I kiss him back breathing into it. He starts kissing my jawline gently and then leaving open-mouthed kisses on my neck. I know what he wants. But I’m way to tired.

“Chris we can’t…I’m too tired and your brothers are still awake anyway,” I say as I nuzzle into the pillows.

“No ma I wanna make you feel good…” He says as he kisses down my chest and stomach. “You don’t have to do a thing…” he says as he kisses right under my belly button.

I put my hand in his hair gently brushing it with my fingers. He kisses my thighs gently getting closer and closer to my little bundle of nerves. I feel him kitty lick my clit and I buck my hips.

“Relax f’me ma.” He says holding my hips down. Listening to his words I take a couple deep breaths until I’m able to fully relax. It wasn’t an insane feeling of pleasure, but more so a dull light feeling that would gradually get more intense.

He licked my nub slowly and softly. I hummed gently as my eyes close.

“You taste so sweet y/n…” he says pulling my hips closer to his mouth. I lazily and gently roll my hips as I moan soft breathy moans.

“Chris…I’m coming…” I say as I roll my hips more. That rubber band in my stomach snaps and I come on his face. I look at him and he’s licking his lips.

I expected him to be done at that but I watch him take his towel off. He lines up with my entrance. I feel him tap my clit with his tip and I lay my head back. He pushes into me and I arch my back as I’m filled up. He thrusts slowly. I moan softly and look up at him.

“I fucking love you…” Chris says as he grinds his hips on mine. I start moaning a little louder and faster. I finally come.

We both finish and he lays next to me.

“You’re always so good f’me ma” he say and I giggle as he pulls me close to him,

“Love you.” i say.

“I love you too.”