#just not rated r ones thank you very much

[bro-atz]

evidential

in which: managing partner attorney song mingi just seems to get hotter with every passing second.

pair: lawyer!mingi/paralegal!afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

content: smut, office sex, unprotected sex (remember to wrap up irl!), (slight) cum-eating, mingi has a huge tattoo and a huge dick—, so much sexual tension fr, hopefully i'm not missing anything, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: inspired by this brain rot of mine. if it weren't for @irlkpop @yunhoszn @sanspuppet @byuntrash101 i wouldn't even have considered writing this let alone making it a series, so class say thank you to these four lovelies

network: @cromernet

taglist: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever @sanhwajjong apply for the permanent taglist here! lawyer!series: mingi, jongho, san, yeosang

You were rather proud of yourself. You had every right to be as well because you were the paralegal everyone at your firm went to. You were so highly in demand that the other lawyers fought over you all the damn time.

However, there was only one man who got to get your help in full, and that was the managing partner: Attorney Song Mingi. It didn’t matter if you were helping another lawyer on a case; if Attorney Song needed you, you were there in an instant. To use a juvenile term, he had eternal dibs on you.

And you didn’t mind. You liked worked with the attorney, but the one thing you hated the most when working with him was how late he would work you sometimes. The life of a lawyer wasn’t easy, but you should be allowed to sleep at least whether it’s at home or at least one of the couches in his room, but no. If Song Mingi wanted to get something done, he was going to get it done before letting himself rest, let alone sleep.

The craziest part about working these insane hours was that Attorney Song refused to dress comfortably if he was working. You weren’t talking about changing into jammies or anything like that; he refused to let himself look “improper” and was always keeping every single garment of his three piece suit on his body. He wouldn’t even loosen the tie or anything— he was prim and proper ’til the very end.

That is until one particular day.

It was just you and the managing in the partner that day. Everyone else had gone home, but you two were scouring through mountains of papers and files and everything under the sun trying to find a specific, singular piece of evidence; and, as per usual, Attorney Song refused to let you take any sort of break.

The worst part about day was that the building’s AC was shot to hell. You had no idea how or why it happened, but it just did. You thought that the attorney would just take the damn files and go home— as if he was ever going to do that.

“Y/N, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of you and pointed to a stack on the ground. “Go through all of these.”

“I already did—”

“Do it again. We need to fucking find this piece of evidence.”

Attorney Song rarely swore, so when he did, you felt goosebumps erupt on your skin. With a soft sigh, you did as he said. He watched as you got up from your chair and bent down slowly to get all of the files that you had set on the ground, the stack teetering dangerously as you moved them back to the table. Then, you felt his eyes leave you the second he confirmed you doing the task he assigned you. You went through all the files once again, your fingers combing through each page slowly, being more meticulous than you were during the first pass.

You went through one file and didn’t find it. As you set the file aside, you briefly glanced at the managing partner only to freeze. You had never seen him without his glasses on, and when he took them off in that moment, he whipped them off his face, a heavy, frustrated sigh leaving his lungs.

You always knew that Attorney Song was attractive, but you never really looked at him properly until that day. You wanted to appreciate his hair line, his perfect eyebrows, the lovely beauty mark on his cheek, and his beautifully shaped nose, but you could only focus on his lips. God, his rosy lips, his rosy, plump lips. His lips that only got fuller as he let out yet another sigh.

When he tossed his glasses to the side on the table, you felt saliva pool in your mouth and your pussy quiver. Plus, thanks to the AC being broken as fuck, your body temperature only got hotter and hotter to the point that you wanted to start stripping just to cool off.

Right as Attorney Song was about to look up, you quickly opened the second folder and went through the files in there. You tried to focus, but you were sweating so much that you could feel it roll down your back. So, eyes still on the papers, you unbuttoned one more button on your blouse. You couldn’t go further than that without exposing your bra, so you left it there and started fanning yourself knowing that fanning yourself would only make you hotter, but you seriously had no choice.

Little did you know that Mingi was entranced by you at that moment. He couldn’t help but stare at the new part of your chest that you exposed, blood rushing to his ears and crotch. He watched as a little bead of sweat rolled right down your neck, down your chest, and through your cleavage. He felt like his brain was on fire the longer he stared at you, and his own body started heating up like crazy.

Truth be told, Mingi was dying under all of those layers. He was sweating like anything, and he badly wanted to take off at least his jacket, but he couldn’t, for he had a secret he didn’t want to tell anyone about, and it was a pretty big secret.

There was nothing wrong with his secret, but he had yet to show anyone in the firm, and he wasn’t prepared at all to deal with the questions and the comments and side eyes from people. He wanted to remain as professional as possible, which meant he would rather sweat to death than expose it.

He couldn’t do that for long, though. He felt like he was risking having heat stroke, and there was no way he could afford that right now, not in the middle of an important case. As casually as possible, Mingi shed his jacket and vest and draped both over the chair discreetly, and he prayed that you wouldn’t notice.

Oh, but you did. You were so hyperaware of everything that you looked up slyly and saw him take the jacket off while focusing on the papers in front of him. His shirt— his white button up— was drenched in sweat. The poor guy was probably suffering under his jacket for so long based off of how soaked he was. But forget about how the shirt was clinging to the muscles on his body and displaying his muscles for a second. His shirt was so transparent at that point that it revealed his secret: a chest tattoo that connected to a massive sleeve.

By that point, the damage had been done. You’d seen the tattoo, Mingi knew you saw the tattoo, so there was no point to trying to be inconspicuous about it. Keeping his eyes on the files, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt, giving you a slightly better look at the black ink on his fair skin. You could see it a little more, but you for the life of you still could not figure out exactly what it was he had tattooed on him. It was when he rolled up his sleeves did you figure it out: it was a biomechanical tattoo that seemed to rip through his skin and show the mechanics in his body. And then, when he leaned towards you to grab more files from your side, you were able to glance down his chest and see a mechanical heart on his chest.

And that’s when you realized after Mingi took his jacket off, every single one of his actions was done very purposefully; because when he leaned towards you for a stack of files, you got a faint whiff of his ridiculously expensive cologne and you felt his hot breath go past your ear, and he definitely heard your bated one. To make matters worse, he was still acting like the attorney you knew him to be.

“Hey,” he said, his low voice barely snapping you back to reality. “Focus.”

The tension in the room got so thick that it practically made the room even hotter. You were losing your mind, and you desperately needed to do something about it.

“A-Attorney Song, I just need to step out for a second,” you told him while squirming in your chair.

“We’re in the middle of figuring out this fucking case. What do you mean you’re going to step out for a second?” The attorney snapped, his attitude returning to normal.

“B-Bathroom…”

Mingi smirked— God fucking dammit, that made it so much worse— before he responded, “You can pee when we’re done. Sit your ass back down and find me this fucking piece of evidence.”

His authoritative tone made all the cells in your body scream for him. You didn’t need to pee, and he knew it. What you really needed was for him to rail you and fuck you until your brain went numb, but he wouldn’t do any of those things until you fucking found this fucking piece of evidence.

That’s when you saw it— the holy grail. It was almost cliché in a way. The two of you lunged for the piece of paper that would win the case and caught it at the same time. The tips of his long fingers brushed against yours, and the two of you looked from the sheet to each other at the same time. You were frozen, your eyes darting left and right as you observed his face in that close proximity. Mingi, however, still seemed to be in work mode (he most certainly was not at that point). Not moving from his position at all, he plucked the paper from your hand and placed it inside his portfolio folder before grabbing the back of your head and kissing you hungrily.

You were definitely surprised to say the least, but you didn’t want to spend any time pondering how the attorney also got to the same state of mind as you. The point was that you wanted him bad and he wanted you just as badly, and you could tell when his grip on your hair tightened and when he subtly wrapped his fingers around your neck and pressed into the pressure points with just enough strength to make blood rush to your head but allow you to breathe as his kisses got rougher.

Trying to cling to some sense of sanity, you ran your own fingers through his hair and held his hair and forearm tightly. Your exhales in between kiss mingled with his, soft moans and sighs adding to the mix every so often. You felt like you were burning up the longer he made out with you, and the sweat collecting on your body definitely made you aware of that. Sweat dripped down his and your face and mixed with your dribbling saliva, both falling and staining the documents on the table.

“W-Wait, attorney,” you managed to say. “The documents.”

You heard him curse under his breath as he momentarily let go of you to rid every single piece of paper on the table with one fell swoop. Then, he quickly made his way around the table and grabbed your arms roughly to pull you into him, his plush lips barely cushioning the blow of his animalistic kisses.

“Tell me something,” Mingi muttered against your lips, his body pressing into yours, his hands running down your arms and resting on your waist as he kept kissing you. “Do you still wanna go to the bathroom?”

“Depends,” you replied breathlessly, your hands roaming up his chest and grabbing the collar of his shirt. “Are you going to help me take care of it?”

“What, you were going to go to the bathroom to touch yourself?” Mingi chuckled.

“I blame you,” you pushed him away and prodded his chest— the one with the tattoo. Then, you added, “I think you should take full accountability for getting me to this point.”

“I could say the same to you,” Mingi’s voice lowered and nearly growled. He suddenly grabbed your ass and pulled upwards as he said, “You and this damn pencil skirt.”

You bit back a moan when you felt his hands grip your ass harder. You wanted to tease him more, but he interrupted you to continue his previous sentiment.

“And this fucking shirt.”

With one finger, he slid it down the middle of your shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons off. Before he took the shirt off you, he lifted you and sat you down on the table, then his antsy hands working on stripping you down completely.

You didn’t get to ask him what he meant because the second he got you fully naked, he gripped your breast with one hand and gripped your ass with the other. He started sucking hard on your breast as he groped and squeezed your body with insatiability. You let out a sweet moan and clung to the man’s shoulders when you felt him bite down gently on your tit. It was when he brought his hand from your ass to your crotch and rubbed your folds did that last string of sanity of yours snapped.

“Attorney— Ah! Mingi!” you whined as you grabbed his hair and pulled him back to look at you. “I want you in me, please just fuck me already!”

“I want to,” Mingi rasped as he looked at you hungrily. “But I don’t have any condoms.”

“I don’t care— I need you to fuck me,” you whimpered— you were so close to crying because of how sexually frustrated you were.

“As long as you’re clean…” he uttered with a smirk before leaving you with a sloppy kiss.

You helped him out of the rest of his sweaty clothes, your hands unveiling the massive chest tattoo. You trailed your fingers up from his wrist to his shoulder, following the lines of the artwork before arriving at his chest.

“Your tattoos are so sexy, attorney,” you whispered as you outlined the intricate details of the tattoo with your fingernail.

You laid your hand flat over the mechanical heart tattoo and looked into his darkened eyes, the man biting his lower lip to keep himself the slightest bit together, his chest swelling under your palm.

“Y/N,” Mingi said roughly as he took your hand in his. He brought your hand down to his clothed crotch to feel his massive, hardened cock, your eyes widening as you it slowly dawned on you that Mingi may have more than just one big surprise. “I’m warning you. I’m not going to hold back.”

“Don’t.”

Mingi visibly shivered. He quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothes and stood before you in all of his glory, his immense, veiny, raging red cock twitching the closer he got to you. Pinning you down to the table, Mingi  placed one hand alongside your waist, the other stroking his cock and rubbing the tip against your folds. You desperately wanted to tell him to just hurry up, but if he came at you with his full force from the get go, you felt like you would definitely tear into two pieces. So, you let him go at his own pace.

He only pushed the tip in first, and once he had his hands on either side of you, he sank a good majority of his cock into you gingerly before suddenly thrusting the rest of himself into you. Your hands went to his hair and neck, and you dug your nails into him while letting out a wail, his cock somehow getting bigger as it throbbed inside you.

Honestly, you were in a little pain, but that didn’t change the fact that the rest of your body desperately wanted him to move, and you wanted him to move fast. Heck, you wanted him to fuck you to the point that you wouldn’t be able to think straight. And Mingi understood that when you looked at him with teary eyes and parted lips. He grasped your waist and began to fuck you fast and hard, your back pressing so hard into the table that you thought you were going to leave an imprint of your ass on it— in the most literal sense, Mingi fucked you into the table exactly as you expected him to.

The table creaked under you as Mingi lowered himself so that his chest was pressing against yours. He moved his hand from your waist to the back of your head and clenched your hair in his tight grasp, his sloppy kisses and tongue violating your mouth. He moved up slightly, allowing his cock to delve deeper into to, and with a very specific intense rut, he hit your cervix. You clenched immediately, and you broke off the kiss as you let out a loud, crying moan, your arousal spraying out of you and onto the table; and you clenched so hard that Mingi could barely pull out— the feeling of your walls squeezing his penis tightly made him orgasm immediately. He pulled out and came hard all over your chest and stomach, ropes of cum trailing along your body.

You thought that would be it, that he would clean you up and call it a day. But no, he was far from over, especially after seeing his white stickiness dripping down your skin. He quickly shoved his cock back in you, making you choke out a moan. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the table, your own arms and legs wrapping around him as you clung to him in fear of him dropping you to the ground.

He did drop you, but that was only when he walked you into his office and slammed your back into the shelves of document boxes, the fixture wobbling and nearly dropping some of the boxes. He brought one of your legs up and fucking you relentlessly, the shelves squeaking and creaking with every one of his insane thrusts. Little profanities would slip under his breath occasionally when he felt his waist slam into yours at just the right angle. Stars started filling your vision when he grabbed your breast and massaged it, your nipple rubbing in between his squeezed fingers.

“M-Minngh-gi,” you moaned as you felt your climax nearing. “C-Cumm—”

He cut you off by grabbing your cheeks and kissing you passionately. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew what he was telling you. Wait.

Quickly pulling out, Mingi spun you around so that your chest was pressing into the shelves, and he quickly re-entered you, his waist ramming into your ass with so much force that your knees nearly buckled. You wanted to scream and cry, but your mouth was stuffed with his fingers, so the only thing you could do was moan and suck on his fingers to keep your moans to a minimum. And despite him silently wanting you to hold out, you couldn’t last much longer— his hand moved from your waist down to your crotch, and his fingers rubbed your clit at the same pace as his thrusts, your eyes rolling to the back of your head because of the stimulation.

You came fully when Mingi pulled out of you, making you squirt all over the carpeted flooring beneath you. Had your mind not been swirling with hormones and lust, you would’ve been mortified that you soiled the managing partner’s carpet, but instead, you sighed loudly, letting the pleasure wash all over you.

The man didn’t give you a break. He turned you around and carried you once more to his couch. He sat down, making you straddle his waist. Hurriedly, he rubbed his cock against your folds and forcibly sat you on his lap, his cock shooting through you. Your vision went white as you came yet again, the man underneath you chuckling at the sight of you flinging your head back and gripping his shoulders so hard that your nails left imprints in his skin.

You thought he was going to say something dirty, something to make you slightly embarrassed but more horny. Instead, he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you again, his other hand guiding your waist and making you bounce on his dick. He kept pulling you into him to the point where your hands were pinned on either side of him on the cushions of the couch.

His cock was moving through you at an angle that made him rub against your G-spot repeatedly, and it took everything in you to not cum again because, dear God, if you came again, you would just fucking collapse. Luckily, Mingi seemed to notice your struggle, because he flipped you so that you were laying on the couch and he was thrusting into you from above, his sweat dripping down his face and body at a steady pace, his couch completely coated in his and your sweat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Mingi’s voice rumbled as he looked at you with the devilish look in his eyes. “How are you still so fucking tight? You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum inside,” you panted out, another orgasm rapidly approaching you. “Fill me up, Attorney Song.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He rammed his waist into yours and came inside, his cock throbbing and twitching as his seed filled you up. You came again as well, your walls squeezing more cum out of him.

When he pulled out, his cum nearly spilled out of you, but he quickly moved his head down to your crotch and collected whatever wouldn’t stay inside you on his tongue. You watched as he brought himself back up to you, his tongue coated with his and your cum. Before you knew it, he was kissing you, his tongue tangling with yours to give you a taste and transfer his cum into your mouth.

A line of cum and spit connected your tongues when Mingi moved away to see your fucked out face and the mix of cum now in your mouth.

“Swallow,” he demanded in a low voice; you obeyed immediately. “Good girl.”

Dammit. He shouldn’t have said that because now you were turned on all over again. You wiggled below him slightly as you tried to calm yourself down, but the lawyer knew you weren’t done with him yet. He rubbed his hand against your cunt and traced light circles around your clit while you reached for his half-hard cock and rubbed him until he was fully erect again.

“You just can’t get enough, can you?” he whispered teasingly.

“No, sir.”

“You want more, don’t you?”

“I need more.”

[starlitmark]

Summary: Maybe you shouldn’t have pressed his buttons so hard… Pairing: brother’s best friend!Yunho x fem!reader Genre: smut Tropes: brother’s best friend au Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, some crying  Smut Warnings: hate sex, choking, degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, sub-dropping Word Count: 1,408 Note: we’ve reached the end of Arousal August! I hope you’ve all enjoyed this <3 thank you again to the amazing @mejuii for beta/proofing this!!

Your relationship with Yunho has always been, we’ll say, strained. You can’t stand him despite him being your brother’s best friend and roommate. Something about his stupidly handsome face makes you want to scream. You had come over to their shared apartment with the understanding that Mingi would be there. He had told you he didn’t have anything to do today and that you would have your weekly sibling date today. Yet here you are with no Mingi on the premise. You can hear Yunho in his room doing who knows what. Weighing your options, you end up walking down the short hallway toward his room. You don’t even bother knocking on the doorframe when you get there. Taking one rather nasty look at Yunho, you sigh before speaking.

“Where’s Mingi?” you ask with a sharp tone.

“Hell, if I know. He’s not here, so you can see yourself out. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” he hisses, not looking up from his laptop.

“Very funny, Yunho. I know you know where he is.” You bite back.

“You’re so fucking nosey. Why don’t you just fucking leave?”

You dare to step into his room and give him a glare from where you were standing. You’re challenging him. He never does anything when Mingi’s around. Now that his best friend isn’t, you want to see if he will. With a smirk plastered on your lips, you walk further into the room and right over to his bookshelf.

“You read some shit books.” You state, running your finger along the spines of the books, “If you want something good to read, I guess I could give you better mat-”

Your words are stolen from your lips when you feel a hand grab your shoulder and spin you around. Yunho is not but a foot from your face. There’s a flame in his eye as he has you there pinned against the wall. After the initial shock, you’re back to where you were. You’re absolutely having too much fun pushing his buttons.

“Damn, Yunho. If you wanted to get me pinned to the wall, you could’ve just asked. Though, I doubt you’d be able to take care of me.” You provoke.

Yunho all but growls and wraps a hand around your throat. He doesn’t put any pressure on your neck, but the presence alone has your heart racing.

“I’m fucking tired of your little attitude,” he says far too calmly.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You fight back, still not daring to move. 

“You want proof I can take care of you?” He offers, slightly putting pressure on the sides of your neck.

“You mean just for me to be right about you not knowing how to? I’d love to.”

Before you can process it, you’re clothes are gone, and you’re pinned down to Yunho’s bed. One of his large hands is wrapped around your throat, causing you to reel in the sensation it’s causing. The other is holding your hip to ensure you don’t squirm too much. Yunho is thrusting into you at an animalistic pace, making you see stars even more. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, though. How you’re holding your noises back, you have no idea.

“Come on, don’t you wanna let those moans out? Sound like a fucking slut while I fuck you?” he growls.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice in the slightest. 

“What? Can’t use your words? Are you too far gone that you can’t fucking speak?” He chuckles, “If I had known fucking you would get you to shut up, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

His grip on your throat tightens as his thrusts become harsher. That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. You let out a loud moan, and once that one escapes, they don’t stop coming. You beg and plead for anything. Yunho is still degrading you with his filthy words that your brain can’t comprehend at the moment. You doubt you’re saying anything intelligible at the moment, anyway. In hopes of getting yourself closer to your high, you attempt to roll your hips into his thrusts. Instead, you’re greeted with a sharp slap to your thigh before his hand reclaims its place on your hip.

“Fuckin’ slut.” he bites, “You take what I give you, understand?”

You nod.

“Use your fucking words. You seem to never shut up any other time.”

“Please!” you beg, tears springing from your eyes, “Please, Yunho! I’m so so close!” you manage to say between moans. 

“You think I’ll- fuck- I’ll let you cum that easily, whore?”

“Yunho, please.” you moan, “Want you to cum inside me.” 

“Oh, is that right?” he asks condescendingly.

“Please!” you beg again, scratching his shoulders.

That’s all it takes to trigger his orgasm. His hips stutter as he cums deep inside you. His sounds, combined with the sloppy thrusts, trigger your high. Your walls flutter around him, and your nails dig deeper into his broad shoulders. He pulls out in one sharp movement and watches how his cum leaks out of you. 

He’s about to walk out of the room when he feels a disturbance in the air. When he turns around, he sees you on the brink of tears sitting on his bed. He isn’t sure what overtakes him, but he immediately swoops you up in his arms and holds you close. You cry quietly for a few moments. Murmuring something about not doing a good job. All Yunho can do is rub your back gently and coax you back into reality.

“You did so well. It was insensitive of me to walk away so soon after,” he says gently. It’s a tone he’s never used with you before.

“You hate me.” You comment weakly, “I don’t blame you for walking away.”

“I don’t,” he states plainly.

“You don’t? Why are you so mean to me whenever-”

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek, “I don’t have an explanation for that. Maybe I was deflecting what I really felt in fear of what Mingi might say.” “I’m a grown woman. I can decide who I date without Mingi’s permission.” You chuckle slightly.

“I know. I know.” he says softly, pressing a kiss into your hair, “Are you fully back with me now?”

“Mhm. I’m processing how sticky I feel now,” you admit.

Yunho chuckles, and you feel the sound vibrate through his chest. 

“Let’s get cleaned up and change the sheets. Then, does cuddling sound good to you?”

“More than.” you smile at him.

After a peaceful shower together and cleaning up the bedroom (including opening a window and lighting a scented candle), you curl up under Yunho’s arm and rest your head against his chest. It’s peace like you’ve never known another person before. It’s ironic how the person you swore you hate is the person you found yourself most at peace with. Then, you hear the front door click open and shut. Neither of you is fully awake, though, not enough to process what the sound was. Just as you open your eyes and process what that sound is, your brother is already busting through Yunho’s previously closed bedroom door. Yunho scrambles to protect your decency, which happens to be tossing himself on top of you. You squeal at the sudden movement.

“You two finally fucked it out?” Mingi asks, sounding hopeful, “It’s been goddamn years of that stupid tension!”

He walks out, forgetting to close the door behind him. Your new boyfriend sighs and gets out of bed to close the door. Just as the door is about to click shut, you hear your brother call through his door.

“If you hurt her or knock her up, I’m reserving the right to murder you still!”

You’re half tempted to walk in there and beat his ass for making that comment, but you can’t find the willpower to get out of Yunho’s comfy bed to do so. Yunho shakes his head and closes the door fully. Climbing back into bed, he wraps his arms around you again.

“How do you think he’ll react when he finds out we fuck raw?”

“Jeong Yunho!”

You smack his chest, and he lets out a bright giggle. Maybe all you really needed was to fuck it out all this time. You never hated him. You’re hopelessly and irrevocably in love with him.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

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[distantdarlings]

PARTING THE SILENCE // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo plans a special evening for the two of you on the night of your anniversary.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Virgin!Reader, Dom!Theo, Gender-Neutral Reader, losing virginity, language, piv - no protection, fingering (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

HEAVEN - Isabel LaRosa

(Quick note: This is not entirely proof-read and was originally written with a fem reader before I realized the gender is not specified in the request. I tried to rewrite w/ a gender-neutral reader, but if I've missed something, please let me know! Thanks!)

---

Your foot tapped impatiently against the leg of your desk as you anxiously awaited the end of class. Your eyes glanced around aimlessly, attempting to catch a glimpse of the sun. Perhaps you’d be able to get an idea of what time it was. 

“Okay, that is the end of my lecture for today!” Professor Flitwick announced. With a flick of his wand, dozens of textbooks flew toward the students. They were small and very old with cracked bindings, but they held the class’ homework for the rest of the week. 

Once you selected yours and shoved it into your bag, you were practically already out the door. Your boyfriend, Theo Nott, had promised a romantic evening for your anniversary, and you weren’t planning on being late.

You shouldered your bag and exited the Charms classroom with your dormitory in mind. Every other student that was trying to get to the Great Hall or to Hogsmeade crossed the halls, making it near impossible for you to wiggle through each one. It was like an ocean constantly pushing against you. 

Past staircases and groups of students, you’d finally managed to get back to your house's common room. You ignored the growl in your stomach as the scent from the kitchens wafted through the hair. Surely, they’d had nothing but distraction in mind when they put the Hufflepuffs right next to the kitchens. You rolled your eyes. 

You didn’t need to eat anything right now. Theo had planned dinner just for you, and you wanted to be able to eat as much as you could if it. You didn’t want to show up to your date full. 

You spoke the password and whisked through the hallway into the common room. Its yellowed walls reflected the setting Sun outside, casting a peaceful, golden glow onto everything. It was nearly empty, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case forever. Since it was a Friday night, everybody had plans, and they’d be rushing back to their dorms soon enough.

You jogged the rest of the way to your dormitory and let the door fall shut behind you. Only a few of your dorm mates were scattered around the room, doing homework, tidying up, and whatever else. They all gave you a small wave or nod as you walked by, to which you politely returned.

You had no time to talk at the moment. You had to get ready. Due to the likely possibility that you’d be late, you’d already laid out an outfit. Theo always had the mind to plan ahead and have everything ready perfectly on top. Your issues with punctuality tended to put you both behind, though. So, today, you tried to think forward.

Dropping your things, you grabbed the outfit and headed to the joint bathroom. Though it was simple, it was fancy enough to be suited for a nice dinner and casual enough for a picnic. You could never prepare for the wild dates Theo planned. 

You slipped the clothing on and readied yourself in the bathroom mirror, splashing a bit of water on your face and messing up your hair. Though you didn’t look half as well as you wanted to, it would work for tonight. 

Turning on your heels, you made your way out of the bathroom and back through the common room as quickly as you could. The hallways of Hogwarts were closer to empty now that classes had been out for a while, making it much easier to find your way to your destination. 

The sky outside was blackening quite rapidly due to the wintry month the castle was currently submerged in. With a shudder of nerves at the thought of having to walk in the dark by yourself, you picked up your pace a bit. The air around you was chilled and swirling, urging you to wrap your jackets tighter around you. 

Theo had told you to meet him by the Black Lake on the side opposite the castle. You weren’t sure if he had planned to do something there and then go out to eat or… A deep sigh left you. You were definitely overthinking this. No matter how long you’d been with Theo, you always became extremely nervous before any of your dates. Due to your house of origin, you constantly felt as though you weren’t good enough to be with Theo. It wasn’t as though any of his friends made you feel that way. It was other people in Slytherin house and even some in Hufflepuff. It was an unnerving feeling that led you to believe they were right, even though Theo picked you. 

You came up to the edge of the Black Lake. The quickly approaching starlight above began to reflect in the dark waters. Halfway across the way, you could see a small lantern pressed up against one of the trees lining the banks. A wide smile spread across your face, urging you toward that dim glow. Swallowing your anxiety, you began to skirt the edge of the lake until you came upon Theo, who seemed to be admiring his work.

Before him was a dark green quilt, weighed down with two large, woven baskets, the lantern, and what looked like his school bag. You suppressed a smile and snuck up behind him, intending to surprise him. 

You eased up behind him, feet as quiet as possible, and sucked in a breath—

“Rah!” Theo turned and shouted, grabbing at your sides. You shrieked at the sudden shock, having no time to react before his fingers started attacking your ribs. Panicked giggles swirled throughout the air as he tickled you relentlessly, his eyes mean and teasing. 

“No, no, no! Please, stop!” you screamed through forced giggles. You kicked and wiggled to try and separate yourself from him, but his hold—as always—was much too strong for you to escape from. He used the size difference between the two of you much too often. “Theo!”

When he finally stopped tickling you, he pushed you back slightly to avoid your next move, which was all too predictable. As soon as he had separated himself from you, you began to swing your arms at him, trying to get a good hit to his arms. 

“You jerk! I’ve told you not to do that!” you shouted, smacking at his clothed arms. 

“You were trying to surprise me!” he defended himself, trying to push you away from him.

“I don’t care!” He grabbed a hold of you suddenly, pulling your body close to his, his strong arms wrapped snugly around you. The two of you attempted to contain giggles at the feeling of being so close to one another. The chilled air cooled your lungs and fanned across your chest. Despite the temperature around you, Theo’s body against yours was as warm as it needed to be. The weather barely had any effect on you when he held you. He was like your own personal heater. 

“Oh, I missed you, darling,” he groaned lovingly into your ear, his lips tickling the flesh of your neck. The vibration of his words and the feeling of his breath on you sent a shiver through your body. You gasped slightly at the sensation, clinging tighter to his arms. 

“You cold?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Why’d you shiver?”

“Because you make me a little nervous,” you giggled awkwardly. His arms loosened around you almost instantly. His eyes found yours, a deep concern shoved into them. Your nervous smile dropped slightly at his expression. Was he upset?

“I make you nervous?” he asked. “What did I do? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Was it the way I held you?”

You nearly melted at how worried he seemed to be with your comfort. Never before had you met a boy so serious about how you felt. Being with Theo felt like always being taken care of, always being thought of, and never being forgotten. It never failed that—no matter what the issue was—Theo was there and ready to fix it. Whether it was his hands, his lips, his words… Whatever it need be, he had it waiting for you. You loved him endlessly for it. 

“No, darling,” you laughed. “You make me nervous … in, uh, a good way.” His eyebrows quirked, and a small smirk began to spread across his lips. 

“Nervous in a good way, huh? Can you explain that to me a little bit?” he asked slyly as he inched back toward you. Once he was behind you, he wrapped himself around you again, allowing his face to press back into your neck. You could feel his breath against your skin; each inhale and exhale made your heart rattle in your chest. One hand that was tightened around your stomach loosened itself and slid upwards. His fingers softly slid around your neck, never tightening, just placed there. It was so domineering, yet soft, that it had you gulping.

 “L-like when you do that,” you sighed, cursing yourself for stuttering. 

“When I do what?” he asked. His free hand moved gently against your stomach, gently tracing curves and dips, claiming your body so easily. 

“When you touch me,” you whispered. At some point, your head had begun to lean back against his strong shoulder. If not for him holding you up, you were unsure if you’d still be standing. 

The two of you had only done a few things together since you started dating. Of course, you’d kissed and petted a bit, but the two of you hadn’t gotten…there yet. The thought of it started your heart beating wildly in your chest, with no regard for your pride, as Theo’s hand was still splayed against your thorax. 

“I could touch you more if you’d like,” he suggested. The fact that he’d presented the question like an option rather than a definite made the experience feel all the more pleasurable. He so obviously cared about how you felt, and that made you want him even more. 

“Outside, Teddy?” you breathed nervously, your chest rising and falling heavily beneath the fall of his hand. Every breath and every touch against you had your mind racing.

“It’s dark, and no one else is out here,” he mumbled against the skin behind your ear. His lips caressed the shell of it every few moments.

“It’s cold…I don’t know if we should.” You wanted to. You really did, but you were trying to reason with him a bit. In his defense, your plan was to come out here and have a romantic anniversary…but now all you could think about was what lay beneath his knit sweater. 

His free hand trailed around your waist and skirted your core through the fabric of your bottoms. A shuddering gasp left your lips ever so quietly, the sound slicing through the icy silence.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered against your ear. The tip of his nose traced along the line of your shoulder, traveling lower and lower until he pressed a sensual open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. Your heart was pounding, your breaths leaving you in desperate pants. 

“Yes,” you moaned breathlessly. You could practically feel him smirk against you as he gently pulled you backward to the beautiful picnic he’d set up.

With a small shove, he’d moved the prepared baskets off of the quilt and laid you softly on the ground. The earth beneath the blanket was soft and even, and the boy above you was strong and rough. The contrast had your pupils blown wide in pleasure. 

Once above you, he hovered easily, his lips running slow, personal kisses along your jawline and neck. Your head tilted back against the ground to allow him as much access to you as possible. You didn’t want anything coming between the two of you.

“Darling, please,” he breathed against your skin, “…want you now…” 

His lips hovered just over your chest where your shirt split down the middle. They were parted and swollen and wanting as he brushed them along your flesh, impatiently waiting on your consent.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, clutching his curls within your fingers. 

It took less than a second for him to begin to undo your bottoms, his hands gentle yet swift. Once the task was completed, he did the same with himself. He removed his belt and dropped it to the ground next to him, the leather slapping against itself with a loud crack. At the sound, you could feel heat broiling in your core…you figured that was an experiment for another day, though.

Theo undid his pants and pushed himself over the top of his briefs so he was still covered from the back. At the sight of his perfectly reddened dick, you could feel your body clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you. 

Theo caressed gentle fingers up and down your core with one hand while the other collected a bit of spit from his mouth. He let it fall down between your legs and trace circles around your entrance, spreading the slick all around. At the feeling, your back arched toward him. Your lips parted in a silent scream. You’d never done this before, so you were bound to be as tight as possible, but you didn’t care. The nerves of your first time with Theo were very quickly overpowered by the raging lust pushing through your body.

He found your eyes and, with a soft nod, slowly slid his finger within you. It was a stretch—one that put your fingers to shame. You grasped at anything—the dirt, the grass, Theo’s back. He was sending you into space and keeping you grounded all at the same time. His finger slowly worked you open with genuine care until he was able to add more. He was preparing you for himself, but you could barely reach the third finger. 

“Ugh, slow, baby, please,” you whined. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered. “Too much?”

You nodded pitifully, your fingers grasping at the quilt and the grass beneath. His hands slowed and eased you closer and closer to your finish before carefully removing all of his fingers from you. You groaned at the sensation and the sudden emptiness. 

“Why’d you stop, Teddy?” you moaned. You stared up at him, your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a slight pout. He clicked his tongue and placed a dominating hand on your jaw. The size of his hand dwarfed your face as his thumb traced the length of your lip. 

“Because I want to give you more, baby,” he cooed. “I want to feel you wrapped around me.” 

You sucked in a shuddering breath as he balanced himself on his knees. He agonizingly slid himself over your entrance, the tip tracing you meanly. Your lips parted at the sensation, anticipating the stretch and fullness.

“I’m gonna move, sweetheart,” he moaned, his hands gripping your bare thighs tightly. You nodded in response to his guidance and braced yourself against him.

As he pushed in, the stretch was a strong yet delicious burn. The slick around your entrance was enough to allow him to slide in quickly, yet he took his time, allowing you to grow around him. Once he’d filled you up to the base, he groaned lightly, waiting patiently for the go-ahead to move.

Once you settled around him, you nodded eagerly. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers tightening into your flesh. Your lips parted at the motion. He ever so slowly began to move in and out of you, each stroke caressing some unknown spot deep within you. 

“Fuck, Teddy,” you whispered, “I don’t know how long I can last.”

“Go as long as you can for me, baby…just want to feel you around me,” he grunted out. You glanced up through hissed lids to observe his gorgeous face and the fucked out impression painted on it.

The sweat dripped down the side of his face, trailing over his jawline and tracing his strong neck. His lips were swollen and parted delicately, with whispers of moans slipping through. His eyes were shut loosely. With every particularly deep thrust, you’d clench around him, and his eyelids would part, showcasing his sea-misted eyes rolling back as far as they’d go.

The sight of his pleasure was enough to push you over the edge into an ocean of ecstasy. You came hard around him, the last remains of your virtue spilling down between your thighs. Your back arched, your legs shook around him, your fingers gripped at nothing.

The feeling of your orgasm slammed into his chest. He cried out pitifully, a melodious whine parting the silence as the evidence of his finish coated your insides.

With a deep exhale, he eased himself out of you and collapsed beside you. You laughed breathlessly, the aftershocks of your orgasm flowing through you like a wave.

With a lazy smile on his face, he leaned forward and reached over you. He lifted the lid of one of the baskets and pulled an extra folded quilt out. You laughed aloud at his preparedness.

“Knew you were gonna get fucked, is that it?” you teased.

“Actually, I figured we’d stargaze,” he admitted, sheepishly tossing the blanket over your bodies. “I brought it in case we got cold.”

“You’re adorable, Teddy,” you giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face couldn’t hide the love he was feeling for you.

He passed around the perfectly preserved food and pumpkin juice, ensuring you got a taste of each sweet and snack he’d brought along. 

He then wrapped himself around you and reminded you ten times over why you’d fallen in love with him.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil (if you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM New Beginnings Fics

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

First, check out @emberfrostlovesloki 's 🌈 Masterlist of Entries ☀️: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Hotch, Emily, and Spencer fics! Check out their page for even more!

🌼 SFW S.R./Reader Entries 🌼

Play Dates by me: [GN] Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had many dates and offers several Play Dates.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by @foxy-eva: [GN] Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When Reader is finally back in town, they're ready for a fresh start. 

You're Gonna Go Far, Love by @writer-in-theory: [GN] After relapsing, Spencer takes the first flight with no plan other than to get a fresh start.

Love Like the Sea by @rynwritesreid: [GN] After Spencer lost Maeve, he swore of love, until Reader came around.

Cowboy Like Me by @foxy-eva: [Fem] Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream to become a cowboy.

In Sickness and In Health by @pathologicalreid: [Fem] Minutes before Reader's wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet.

Maybe We Found Love Right Where We Are by @andiebeaword: [Fem] Spencer just got engaged to Maeve on Valentine’s Day. Finding out his best friend’s heart will be broken changes things. 

More ratings and pairings below!

🌼 Other Pairings/Gen SFW Fics 🌼

Silent Demon by @angellsell: [Derek/Fem!Reader] Reader celebrates a month milestone of sobriety, but she isn't very proud of it.

Hearts on Our Sleeves by @angellsell: [Hotch/Fem!Reader] Aaron and Reader decide to give a try at a new relationship after a long dry spell.

Good Fortune by @reasonablerodents: [Hotchreid] Spencer and Aaron are the only ones without a partner for a New Year's Kiss.

And When Dawn Came by @snarkylinda: [Gen] Spencer calls Emily the night that Cat has the baby he decided to adopt.

The Date by @codename-mom: [Gen] Jessica didn't expect what her former brother-in-law was going to ask her.

Last Recruit by @/codename-mom: [Gen] There's a new agent at the BAU eager to start her new life. Her name is Penelope Garcia.

First Steps by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Rossi found a young agent named Aaron Hotchner who could be a good new recruit for the BAU.

First Day at School by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Jack is now old enough to go at school and his father has trouble to deal with this very special day.

🌼 NSFW Entries (S.R./Fem!R) 🌼

Second Time's a Charm by @foxy-eva: Back in college Spencer Reid and Fem!Reader left many things unsaid. Years later they give it another try.

It’s Too Cliché by me: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

For the Love of Lace by @reidmotif: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend anymore but needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her date.

Sweet Agony by @incognit0slut: After tragedy, Reader believed she was unworthy of love. Spencer proves her wrong.

Co-Creator Bonus List

🌼 SFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

The Only Hoax I Believe In by Foxy: Spencer struggles with his addiction after prison until Reader is determined to help him, no matter the cost.

The Perfect Plan by me: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

Impromptu by me: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Defining Family by me: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Clean Shaven by me: Reader helps Spencer shave after prison.

Drunk Dial by me: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Repentance by me: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.

Happy Hydrangea by me: TransMan!Reader. JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

🌼 NSFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

Lily of the Valley (Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3) by me: Unsub!Reid. Spencer was found guilty but mentally ill after the torture and murder of several men. He finds solace in his psychiatrist at the institution.

Duet by Foxy: Letting the love of his life get away was Spencer’s biggest regret, so he decides to go after her.

Honeymoon by Foxy: Spencer and his wife are excited about their future (and their honeymoon).

To Have and To Hold by me: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song by me: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Domesticity by me: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy by me: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

🌼 Other SFW Pairings 🌼

Till Death Do Us Part by Foxy: [Emily/GN!Reader] Reader didn't expect grief to linger after Emily came back from the dead.

Motherhood by Foxy: [Tara/Emily] Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Happy Reading!

P.S. If I missed your fic or you have a new one to add, feel free to send me a message. I would love to add it!

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for an anon; a fake cryptid and a real romantic.

“I think I’m gonna try making him a ruby and do that in a trilliant cut,” Superboy says decisively, which isn’t necessarily much progress towards “normal” friend-making but again, Clark doesn’t want to discourage either a hobby or a creative outlet for the kid. Or just literally anything that isn’t about being a superhero, even if the trilliant cut resembling the S-shield and making friends with a vigilante are only sort of “not about being a superhero”. 

Look, the kid’s six months old and was educated by ethically bankrupt scientists and absolutely exhausted grad student interns, absolutely none of whom had either normal childhoods or an interest in instilling any semblance of “normal” in their cloned Superman’s head. Clark’s not going to be picky here, he’s just gonna meet him where he’s at and go from there. 

Superboy has some unfortunate difficulties understanding the difference between celebrity attention versus genuine admiration and things like that, and also an unfortunate tendency towards causing a lot of unnecessary property damage and jumping to conclusions and temper issues, but he tries, and he clearly does think about things. There’s just a lot to figure out in the world, and he’s had to do it in speed-run mode and while being an active superhero. 

Really, Clark thinks the kid’s doing a lot better as a superhero than he would’ve done at his “age”, and he’d actually been that “age”. Superboy is frankly just about the best-case scenario that could’ve come out of a situation like Cadmus and also mercifully only seems to be minimally traumatized by the sorry excuse for a “childhood” he was provided, so . . .

“That sounds nice,” Clark says, smiling at him. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job with it.” 

“I’m gonna do a good job with it if it fucking kills me,” Superboy says, looking determined, which seems like a lot of intensity to put into making a gift for a friend, but again: six months old and educated by ethically bankrupt scientists. Clark is going to stick with the “meeting him where he’s at” approach. 

“Just do your best to start, maybe,” he says wryly, reaching over to pat the kid’s shoulder. Superboy grins at him, his expression turning pleased. 

“I will!” he says. “Wanna see some of the test ones?” 

“Sure,” Clark says, figuring Superboy will just–

Nope, no, Superboy just immediately stuck both hands into his jacket pockets and came up with two big fistfuls of a good dozen high-quality diamonds done in trilliant cuts. Very large diamonds. 

Heavens to Betsy, Clark thinks a little faintly. That is . . . that is so many diamonds for Superboy to just have in his pockets. They weren’t even zipped shut! They weren’t even buttoned! 

Superboy lays his series of diamonds all out in neat little rows on the ledge, because there are enough of them to require multiple rows, and then reaches back into his pockets for a few more, because of course there are more. Clark continues to feel vaguely faint and has absolutely no idea how to point out how much money this is. Even at lab diamond rates, this is so much money. Just–so much. 

At this point in his life Clark has seen entire planets made of diamond, mind, but he still grew up in smalltown Kansas as a farm kid, so there’s something about seeing quite this many virtually flawless ones just laid out on a Metropolis rooftop the same way he would’ve shown off his POG collection to his friends as a kid. Even the damn cuts are just shy of perfect. 

Well, at least Superboy’s enjoying his first hobby, he supposes. But also, Jesus H. Christ.

“They look good, kid,” Clark says, smiling at him encouragingly. No need to take the wind out of his sails, obviously. Though seeing them now, it does occur to him to wonder–“Where did you get the tools?” 

They must be good ones, because honestly he really wasn’t expecting results this good–or even half this good–from a six month-old teenager. Superboy could definitely ruin De Beers’s day with those.

Or their industry, again. 

. . . well, it is De Beers, so . . . 

“Oh, I don’t have any,” Superboy says, shaking his head. “I just use my TTK.” 

Clark . . . pauses, for a moment. 

Clark pauses for a long moment. 

“Tactile telekinesis can cut diamond?” he asks carefully. “This precisely?” 

“Yeah!” Superboy beams proudly at him. “Cool, right?” 

Clark looks very, very closely at the diamonds. The cuts on them are practically atom-sharp. 

Alright then, he thinks to himself even more carefully.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Our Little Secret

Sergeant Choi San x (f) Criminal Reader ft.Wooyoung

Summary: Maybe he was not as bright as his superiors made him believe he was, or maybe he was just a fool, or maybe he was just a tool in a much larger game at play. Either way, one thing was for certain, Jung Wooyoung was impressed by a man who had one too many little secrets, some that he was to keep as well.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: mention of gunshots, mentions of r*pe (heavy stuff), panic attacks, illegal stuff, strong language- (Mc is a perv, sorry not sorry- lowkey San is the same)

Word Count: 7.8k

Read Time: 38 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Rating: mature

A/N: I may have had a little too much fun writing this

Wooyoung hated this part of the job, ever since he had joined the force, he had wanted to do nothing but good, but here he was in the late hours of the night in a mansion that belonged to one of the many corrupt political figures that ruled the land. He had begged Captain Park not to put him on night parole, even insisted on doing all the paperwork for everyone, including the slacker Mingi, but the captain was in no mood for negotiation, instead, he had told him the sergeant would accompany him.

Truth be told, the officer was afraid of the sergeant, he had heard great stories about the man, and the first time the young officer had laid eyes on the mountain of a man, he began to believe the rumours. From his well-built body to his feline mannerism, the way he would walk with an air of pride around him, forcing those around to bow in respect, or fear, either way, it didn’t matter because Wooyoung knew one thing for sure- he wanted to be like Sergeant Choi. Due to this very reason, he had agreed to attend this nuisance of an event, a masquerade ball for the elite, filled with all activities which would be illegal if one were poor or even middle class. What confused him, however, was why the Sergeant had agreed to conduct this trivial task. Captain Park had mentioned how he had volunteered himself, even bringing the blueprints of the mansion and the surrounding gardens, speaking with the security teams at the place of function as well- trivial tasks that are often left to juniors like Wooyoung, so why was his superior doing all these things himself?

“Officer Jung, do you copy?”

The static voice rang in his ear, yes, they were given the state-of-the-art technology just for this freak show, the budget the Department of Defence was given had their captain shaking in his boots, which would explain why he was hell-bent on using every penny to the most ‘professional’ manner.

“Yes, Sergeant, loud and clear.”

“Good, the east wing is clear, I’m leaving the man ballroom now.”

“West wing is clear too, Sir.”

“Heading North, to the main gate. Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”

“Heading to the greenhouse at the back Sir.”

With that Wooyoung slowly started to walk down the stairs and out into the open, taking a deep breath, the crisp, chill of the night prickling against his warm skin, a shiver running down his spine, he thanked heaven that they were allowed to wear civilian clothes, San had insisted that it would be safer for them and the visitors this way. Ironically, he had chosen to wear a leather jacket, much like his superior, guess he had his boss somewhat figured out at such a quick pace- he really was smart, wasn’t he? Pulling the leather jacket closer to his form, he looked around the luxurious lawn, it was indeed pretty, with a variety of trees and flowers that one would only see in books or the internet, most of the species were not even native, but then again, then again, certain laws of physics or nature do not apply to the rich.

He was glad it was quiet though, a few more hours and this shit show would be finished by midnight, which meant he could go home in peace, and possibly expect some form of praise in the morning from his superiors. Speaking of superiors, he didn’t know much about the Sergeant, only that he was cold and ruthless, and incredibly gifted in the department of looks- apparently was smart too, and that he had a blackbelt- okay so maybe Wooyoung did know a lot about him, but it was all so textbook. He had no personal details on the man, only one thing, that he was married- but that was because of his wedding band that he saw the Sergeant wear in a makeshift necklace. The wedding band wasn’t even on his finger, and the only way he had seen the necklace was when the man had taken off his jacket, the ring toppled onto his shirt, earning a low groan from the man, though Wooyoung’s eyes quickly scanned the item, a simple silver band, hanging from a silver chain. He watched his superior gently tuck it back into his shirt, pressing it against himself for a quick second before sighing, as if he was afraid, he had almost lost it. That was the only glimpse Officer Jung had gotten of his superior that was not consistent with the rumours of his ruthless stature.

Opening the door to the greenhouse he stepped in, the strong scent of herbs hitting his nostrils, making his nose itch. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he walked down the isle of potted parsley and mint, looking around for anything suspicious, not that there would be anything there. Or so he thought, for the moment he stood at the heart of the glass building, looking around with his hand on his hips, and he heard a little chime- a cat? No, this place was locked and he made sure to close the door behind him, he was sure of it, which is why he was about to dismiss the noise until he heard it again.

Slowly making his way to the source of the sound, he reached for his gun, being as quiet as possible, spotting a silhouette near the roses, and pointing his gun at the intruder he cleared his throat before ordering;

“Freeze! Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

He was ready, he was oh so ready to prove to his superiors that he was well deserving of that promotion, he was ready to take down this- woman? He was not ready for this, visibly swallowing at the sight before him he tried to not look at anything but the kitsune mask of the woman.

“Miss, are you here by accident or…”

“Oh, honey if you think only men are criminals, then you are part of the problem.” her red lips stretched into a cocky smile, shifting as she leaned against the stand, the slit of her red satin dress shifting, showing a bit more leg than what Wooyoung would consider modest, though his glance served to be more useful than perverted, the silly little shiny pistol hooked to her black net garter caught his eye, the ribbons of the material gripping onto the gun.

“Eyes up here sweetie, my husband wouldn’t appreciate other men ogling at me like this.”

“Cut the crap,” spitting he aimed at her, “Take off the mask and get down on your knees.”

“Kinky.” Was all she said before something smacked against Wooyoung’s hand like a sharp slap, stinging his wrist his gun fell to the ground as he groaned, glaring up at the smirking woman who winked at him, finally noticing the black leather whip in her hand- did they even make whips this long?

He was about to reach for his gun on the ground before it was kicked away, her heel pressing against the back of his hand, “You’re cute, I’ll give you that, but I don’t have much time, cutie.”

Wooyoung was about to tackle her, only for her to smack him across the face with the back of her hand, the rings on her fingers stinging like hell as she made a run for it, laughing like a mad woman, her chuckles echoing across the greenhouse. Growling in frustration he grabbed his gun and ran after her, he knew he couldn’t shoot around like a madman, one shot would be enough, but the leg? No, she’d bleed out. The shoulder? He was hot on her tail, the red dress hard to miss, along with the sound of the bells hanging off the tussles of her mask, his fingers just grazed her dress before she took a sharp right.

“Shit” following after he stumbled behind the shelf, only to stop at the sight before him. The woman was pinned to the ground, her wrists pinned above her head, San’s grip tight as he watched her struggle under him.  “She has…a gun” Panting Wooyoung pointed at the now fully exposed leg, her dress had bunched up against her waist as the Sergeant’s lower half kept her legs apart, his free hand reaching for the gun, though Wooyoung could swear his boss was taking his sweet time, he could swear his boss was caressing the woman’s leg, somewhat toying with the garter before ripping it off her, earning a squeak from her followed by a whine.

“Enough.” His voice boomed, gripping her face he squished her cheeks hard, staring down at her, as she instantly stilled, looking up at him, not moving an inch. It was as if she was wired to his command- to have authority such as Sergeant Choi’s would be a dream come true for Wooyoung.

“Did you grab the kitty’s tail?”

“The what?”

“The whip Officer Jung, she calls it the kitty’s tail- you didn’t read the report last week, did you?”

“I umm- I’ll go get it, sir.” With that he ran back to the original scene of the crime, acquiring the whip that she had dropped on the way, probably while running away from him. When he had come back, San was locking her handcuffs, his rough movements causing her to wince, but when he tightened it against her wrist, she whimpered- and that is when he saw his superior freeze for a second, and if it were not for his cunning fox-like observation skills, he would’ve missed how San’s eyes had softened, his hand that was on the cuff loosened its grip, “Let’s go.” That was all he said before leading the two out the back entrance, claiming that the event was already over anyway and that they had to report to no one about their departure.

.

He glanced back at the woman in handcuffs, chin in palm as she admired the view outside. It was now that he got a good look at her, with her mask in her lap, she was beautiful, no, the word beautiful did not do her justice, so why was a woman as pretty as her involved in something as ugly as this? Wooyoung frowned when San took the turn to exit, unsure of what his superior was doing

"Sergeant Choi, I think you took a wrong-"he was cut off, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, the lady still sitting in the same position, but her question caught him extremely off guard.

"Sannie, will you be home for dinner tonight? "

Did she just call him Sannie? Though San remained as nonchalant as well, "I didn't Wooyoung, don't worry." he answered only his junior ignoring the woman, this was the first time he had addressed Wooyoung by his name, what exactly was going on? Glancing at the side view mirror, San raised an eyebrow at her, she was sitting right behind the driver's seat, his seat, watching her pout and look at him through the reflection. A small whine made its way through the silent car.

"Come on Sannie~ you can't gimme the silent treatment forever?"

"Detective Jung?" his tone extremely authoritative and hard, earning a flinch from his junior, though the lady behind him just shivered, with something other than fear.

"S-sir its officer, the detective exam’s results aren’t out yet”

“You’ve passed Wooyoung.” He sighed, gripping onto the wheel a bit harder, as he pressed on the gas.

“Sir I- how, how do you know that?” he should have just been happy at the knowledge of his new title, but curiosity always got the better of this foxie, always wanting to know the answer behind the whys and the hows.

“I checked the exams- why do you think Seonghwa sent you with me tonight? They don’t send just anyone with me to such a high-profile case?”

“N-no Sir I-

Once again, he was cut off by a bratty whine, only this time she leaned forward, shifting so she was in between the two seats, her upper body leaning against the gearbox, turning to look at the Sergeant who did not glance away from the road;

“Sannie~ It’s been a week, this isn’t fair.”

"Wooyoung, open the glove compartment, there's a roll of tape there." he gestured to the glove compartment, "Tape her mouth shut for me, would ya."

"Sir!?"

"Sannie~ wait, hear me out-eep" she yelped almost as loud as the screech of the brakes, falling back as her back hit the leather with a thump, Wooyoung's own heart made its way to his mouth, ready to jump out in fear.

"Wooyoung. Tape. Her. Mouth."

As his junior fumbled with the glove compartment the Sergeant parked the car in a secluded area off the road, getting off and slamming the door shut. Wooyoung gulped as he noticed his superior’s body language, he had never seen him like this, what was he going to do with her? Should he save the woman? Were the rumours about him being a ruthless killer of ‘criminals’ going to be proven true after what he was going to do to this woman? Swinging open the car door from her side he pulled her out by her wrist, noting how she winced and looked up at him, "Sannie…you're hurting me." This caused his grip to loosen, though not enough to let go, not that she had any plans of escaping, his cold hard glare was enough to have her rooted at the spot, fumbling with her words- extremely out of character.

He had had enough of this, tonight was too close to be just a risk, she was lucky he was there, there was no way Seonghwa would let her go, and if this was some kind of sick trick to get his attention, he wasn’t interested in it, nor was he going to entertain it.

"San, I swear I was wearing my mask I-"

Her words were cut off by the sudden pressure of his lips, his body pressed flush against hers, pressing it against the car door. Her cuffed hands gripped onto his jacket and pulled him ever closer as his hand at the base of her neck gave her a little squeeze as if warning her to not test him, though a muffled giggle broke past her lips as he slowly parted, the hand on her waist pressing into her. She didn’t care about how rough he was being or how he wasn’t even crouching down properly to meet her halfway, having her stand on her toes just to feel him close, she didn’t care because at least he was giving it to her now, his attention. With their foreheads pressed together, he gazed down at her gentle features portraying nothing but innocence- false innocence, but the sincerity in her eyes was what always had his knees buckling. The sincerity of love that she had for him, letting him catch her every time, letting him into her world, into her life- truth be told it wasn't her who fell into his trap, but it was him who was wrapped around her pinkie.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, "Ummm…" Extremely baffled by what had just broken out, he had not just seen his superior fully make out with a criminal- was this legal? Well, technically no- wait was this harassment? Or no, she did call him Sannie, did they know each other?

With a slight chuckle, she stood on the tip of her toes to peck her lover's cheek, "Didn't know you were into that stuff…the audience turning you on huh, never knew my husband was so kinky?"

In an instant the tape was snatched from Wooyoung's hand and smacked across her pretty red lips as she stared at him wide-eyed, a bit confused, a bit scared, but oh so in love.

"Be a good little wife and stay quiet, no need to traumatise my junior even more than you already have."

With that he forced her back inside the car and went to sit on his seat, leaving a sweaty-palmed Wooyoung standing there in complete, utter shock - possibly turned on too- wait- WIFE? Suddenly her statement about her husband rang in his ears, she had mentioned a husband before- was he? Was this man an enemy of the law or a loyal servant of the law? Wooyoung stood there grounded, confused about what to do and what had just happened. Perhaps he had stood there a bit too long, clenching and unclenching his sweaty fists but the driver's door opened again, causing him to flinch, unsure if he was about to move to the car or reach for his gun, he wasn't sure but before he could decide his senior opened the backdoor. He watched another scene of confusion unfold before him, San shrugged off his jacket, and crouched down into the car, placing it over her torso, and tucking it around her upper body, "There, now you're all warm."

Wooyoung was dead sure he heard San chuckle, but the muffled whining was louder. Standing up straight he closed the car door and turned to look at Wooyoung, his white T-shirt clinging onto his well-built frame, the ring in his necklace glimmering under the streetlight. Just who was this man?

"Wooyoung, if you aren't comfortable with this I-"

Huffing the junior stomped to the other side of the car, slamming the door shut. Shaking his head in defeat San let out an airy chuckle, staring up at the stars, "Man, I just attract brats, I'm sure of it."

.

"You know…this is illegal right?"

They had been driving in silence for almost thirty minutes before Wooyoung had decided to slice the tension. What bothered him more was how it was only he who could feel this tension, the lady at the back was literally snoring away in wonderland and his boss was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other was resting on the armrest, casually drumming against the material.

"Hmmm? What is?"

"This. She's a criminal! We literally caught her-"

"Doing what? Looking at flowers? In a mask? It was a masquerade ball, Detective." he sighed, already using the new title for his junior, who hissed in disapproval, who was this man, where was the man of great stature and moral value that he looked up to since his trainee days.

"You know what I mean, you're becoming an accomplice to a crime and-"

"Then report me Wooyoung." he slammed the brakes, causing the younger one to squeak, holding onto the handle, thanking God that he was wearing a seatbelt, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at his superior staring dead ahead as he mumbled, "Report me if you must, but I'd be damned if any of you try to lay a finger on her again."

"Again? What do you mean-"

Once again, he was left hanging as the man got out of the car slamming his door shut, the entire car swaying in the process. He turned to look at him again when the back door opened, though he noticed the way the woman shook her head and scooted away from him, causing him to sigh, he looked so…defeated. Was she scared of him? Wooyoung's eyes flickered to the woman, his profiler skills on overdrive, what if he read it wrong, what if he was supposed to save this woman from the sergeant? He noted the way her eyes had watered, tears threatening to slip at any given moment, waiting for the last push- he still wasn't sure about their dynamics, what if none of this was consensual? She kept on pulling back until her back pressed against the door, legs pulled closer to her chest as she shook her head, heavy tears dripping down her cheeks, her mascara running like a stream, her entire form shaking, her sobs muffled by the tape- this was not the woman who had smacked him across the face, this was not the woman who had stomped her heel on his hand, this was but a mere broken, scared little girl.

"Sir-" For the third time tonight Wooyoung had reached for his gun, ready to shoot anyone who he thought was suspicious at this point.

"I won't go…I promise I won’t, he explained it to me and I- f*ck I'm so sorry, I'm sorry." His head hung in disappointment, eyes not even meeting hers, palms pressing on the seat, “I’m staying, I swear I won’t leave again.” He whispered reaching for her once more, his hand resting on her ankle, thumb stroking the skin, Wooyoung noticed the way she visibly relaxed a bit, manoeuvring to let him pull her out, he reached for her cuffed hands, pulling them over his head, their faces inches away from each other as he gave her a gentle, dimpled smile- that was new. What he did not expect was for San to completely ignore him, as the Sergeant pulled out his wife in one swift motion, holding onto her bridal style as her muffled squeak echoed across the empty street, followed by his laugh.

He kicked the door open, smiling at the little meow that resonated across the empty hallway, coming to greet her parents, she had indeed spent a week with her distressed mother and in the absence of her father, especially after witnessing the two in a full-blown argument, must have scared the little fur ball.

“Byeol, didn’t I tell you to watch mommy, while I was away?” he called out to the cat that walked beside him, making sure to rub against his leg as he slowly sat her down on the couch, reaching to scratch his baby’s head, only to stop when she gently tugged at the ends of his hair, before her fingers slowly caressed the nape of his neck, arms still looped around his shoulders. He glanced up at her sheepishly, smiling at her, “Sorry, forgot about that,” reaching up he reached for the tape, “I’ll go slow, okay?” nodding at him she looked at him determined, and ready. He did it slowly, making sure he caused minimal pain, and glad he kept the paper tape in the car, usually for their little activities, any other tape would’ve hurt more.

Sighing she licked her dry lips, looking down at her lover, “Won’t you kiss me?” she whispered before turning her head to look at the newcomer, as soon as Byeol hissed, “Nevermind, officer cramped-undies is here, he’s allergic to love.” she mumbled, glaring at Wooyoung who was glaring back at her with the same intensity.

Shaking his head at the two San pulled her arms over his head, undoing her cuffs, and tossing them away somewhere, the clinking of the metal attracting the cat that went running across the room to it. Grabbing her right hand he hummed, gently applying pressure, taking in her reaction, “Sorry, didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Sannie.” She smiled, placing her left hand over his, “I’ve been through worse.” Wooyoung noticed the way he froze at her words, his smile turning into a deep frown, glaring at the ground for a split second before shaking his head, and looking up at her with a gentle smile, “I’ll be back.” With that he stood up, gesturing to Wooyoung to follow him as the two made their way into the kitchen, that was across the hall. Wooyoung stood next to the marble island in the centre of the dark kitchen, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, watching his superior rummage through the cabinets mumbling stuff, “Ah…I told her not to change the place…tsk…this woman never listens to me…where are you…hah! Gotcha.” Like a cat filled with pride and glee after catching a mouse, he turned around with shining eyes, only to pause when he realised it was not his wife, he had turned to but his junior who wore an extremely sour expression, with the whole blank eyes and deep frown, the complete look.

Clearing his throat San looked at him, nodding as if he were grateful to his junior for not reporting him- yet. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow before pulling up the Kitsune Mask, “Care to explain?” his voice held a certain edge to it, more importantly, San knew that wasn’t a question, but an order- wow, he really did attract brats.

“I…” sighing in defeat he nodded, before gesturing to his face, “Apply this, it’ll stop the bruising, just let me patch her up first and…try to get along with her, she’s just been on edge today.” He mumbled walking out of the kitchen after placing a tube of ointment on the counter beside Wooyoung, who scoffed, she was his wife, not Wooyoung’s so why was he supposed to bear her tantrums?

San walked into the living room where she was trying to undo the strings of her heels with one hand, grumbling at the way she had tightened the knots. Placing the medicine box beside her on the couch, he gently pulled away her hand, mumbling a ‘let me’ before his nimble fingers began to work on the knots and strings, “Running in heels is dangerous.” He concluded, taking off her heels and placing them beside him, his baby girl had expensive taste, that was for sure, much like her psychotic brother- biology be damned.

“Are you going to be in trouble Sannie?” she asked, eying Wooyoung who had sat across the three-seater on the opposite loveseat, watching the scene unfold with a blank stare, honestly at this point, he was somewhat intrigued by the way his boss was swooning over his wife, the delicate intimacy making him a bit jealous due to the lack of a partner in his life. Morally, he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore, but this was a side of the Sergeant he had been dying to see, so who was he to deny the favour God had bestowed upon him?

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, opening the box to pull out her makeup wipes, he pulled one out, reaching for her face with his other hand, cupping her cheek, eyes instinctively closing, "But I swear you're in so much trouble." His warning had her eyes snapping open with a pout, though he clicked his tongue and grunted, "Hold still, close your eyes." But she grabbed his hand, staring at it, before meeting his eyes, "Your…ring…You took it off- I- did I- You- I mean we-" her breath hitched, another wave of nausea hit her, the all too familiar ringing in her ears resurfacing. "Hey- no, no, no love, look at me." He gently patted her cheek with the wet tissue, the hand she was holding onto rubbed soothing circles on her thigh, "I didn't remove it, just wore it here" Pulling back he plucked out the necklace from under his shirt, "See, " holding the chain up for her to see, the ring dangling off it, "Just kept it hidden, to keep you safe, okay? You're okay, I'm okay….we're okay." he whispered back, bringing her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her palm, watching her sniffle, "Now, close your eyes, no more crying, or I swear I'll cry", waiting for her to follow instructions, glad when she did, with that, he gently began to clean up the streaks of mascara and residue of her makeup, hand working like clockwork, impressing Wooyoung, much like how he had handled her panic attack- what exactly was going on here, how did San know what to do? Had he perhaps done this before? Why did the sight before him make him feel like he was intruding on something personal, should he leave?

"Wooyoung?" his mental debate came to a halt when his superior called him, looking at his broad back, his face still turned to his wife, smiling up at her, as she looked down at him. She was…beautiful- no, she was charming, her freshly cleaned skin radiating with an alluring glow, almost inviting- was she a siren?

"Wooyoung, if you're done staring at my wife like a perverted teenager-"

"Sannie" she stopped him, as soon as she noticed how the younger one was blushing, clearing his throat as he looked everywhere but at the couple.

"I.I wasn't Sir- I-"

"The ointment." was all San, craning his neck to glare at the man, his eyes cold and hard, swirling with jealousy- possessive huh?

"Yes, sorry, here." scurrying over to the couch he placed it in San's open palm, pausing to glance at his wife- wanting to get a closer look at what may have been his first and only interaction with an angel. Sergeant Choi did strike a deal with lady luck on this one, her features were not only soft and delicate, much like her gentle gaze, especially how she was staring down at her husband with endearment that had him almost vomiting, but her overall persona had changed, not like the devious little being he had encountered at the greenhouse.

"There." Pulling on a cute bow he looked up at her with a smile, "Go change, dinners on me tonight." Standing up straight he side-eyed Wooyoung who stumbled back at the sudden proximity of the taller man, he didn't realise he was standing so close to the two. Cupping her face his thumbs caressed the swollen area of her undereye, her eyes closing at the gesture, nodding when we whispered gently "Go."

With that she was gone, leaving the two men alone, Wooyoung standing there looking somewhat guilty- even though he wasn't part of any of the crimes committed tonight.

"Come on, you want chicken flavour or cheese-flavoured ramen?" San asked, calling him over his shoulder earning a sound of disapproval from his junior, "What?"

"You're going to feed your wife instant ramen?"

"I was going to feed you too, but if you'd rather be ungrateful then who am I to force you."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Let me cook. Please."

That's how Choi San found himself sitting at the barstool at the kitchen island, somewhat glad how big it was, his wife was right, the bigger the better- for kitchen appliances, mind you. On the opposite end of the countertop, Wooyoung was silently chopping vegetables, done with carrots, green onions and now the cabbage, this couple ate well, and had good taste in produce as well- Wow Jung Wooyoung, so much for begging God to let you know more about your boss, should've asked for something else instead, like a million bucks or something.

San admired the way the younger man was working, he knew Wooyoung was a hard worker, but his skill and expertise amazed him, also made him realise he attracted brats, but those brats knew how to cook.

"Who is she?" Wooyoung asked, sliding the diced cabbage into the strainer, "What are you involved in please tell me now, I'm at the ripe age of my youth so I can jump careers unlike you-"

"I'm literally only three years older than you."

"My point exactly."

Shaking his head in disbelief San signed, resting his chin on his palm, "You really are something else, huh?"

"I've been called worse, Sir."

"She's…Kim Hongjoong's sister." he began only to stop when Wooyoung slammed the butcher knife onto the board, "THE KIM HONGJOONG? HEAD OF MATZ? THE SOLAR DRAGON? THE MAN WHO KILLS WITH JUST HIS GAZE??? THE SAME MAN YOU ARRESTED- how- HOW DID YOU GET HIS SISTER TO MARRY YOU?" His shrilly voice echoed around the kitchen as San rubbed his temples, God was testing him today.

"First of all, yes, not biological, the two grew up at the same orphanage and secondly, I did arrest him but no one knows she's his self-proclaimed sister- well, other than Seonghwa" he mumbled, pulling off his necklace and staring at the ring,  "I remember being like you, believing in the system, believing in the goodness of people, that those who are innocent are never wronged- I was a fool, this entire system is whack and for some reason, fate decided to send me a stray that was abused enough to convince me about how wrong I was."

Wooyoung watched him in silence, placing the dirty dishes in the sink as he turned on the electric stove, "I… see." was all he said, waiting for the water to boil, "Do you have garlic paste?"

"In the fridge, I think." San pointed at the fridge before sighing, "How much do you know about Hongjoong's mission?"

Opening the fridge the man stared at the neatly stacked containers of food, all untouched, if San didn't come home for a week, why was there so much food there? Was she…waiting for him? Making him dinner every night? The knot in his stomach twisted a bit too tight as he sighed, closing the fridge, “You were undercover for a year, by the end of it, you captured the Matz leader and most of the gang."

"Did you know Kim Hongjoong came to me himself?"

"What?"

"Exactly," exhaling he pulled the ring out of the chain, slipping it back on his finger, all snug, where it belonged, "I started the mission as an undercover agent. I was part of an underground fight club, one of the many Hongjoong owns- Django." he nodded to Wooyoung who was adding strips of meat to the bowling broth, "It was fine, the usual bullshit, took me a few months to even get recognition, but one thing was for sure, everyone feared Hongjoong, everyone but one person- his advisor."

"And… that was her?" he asked, deciding to take out the side dishes she had packed away in the fridge.

"Yeah…" Reaching for the mask he admired the details, memories flooding back, "We never saw her face, this mask was who she was, she was quick and agile as a cat, but Hongjoong's favourite. She was also my meal ticket to her brother. After a match I was about to leave when I heard a scuffle, honestly, I was going to leave but the bell" Shaking the mask the bell resonated in the kitchen, and the only other sound present was of the boiling broth, "I knew it was her so I went to check, a few guys had cornered her, I don't know why, maybe she was tired that day, maybe they were physically stronger, but while one held onto her the other reached for her mask and that's when I snapped, all I remember was my hands were bloody and before I knew it I was being taken to meet Hongjoong."

"You saved her?" he asked, as he opened a few cabinets, before looking at San who pointed at the one at the far right, "Plates and bowls are there. Cutlery is in the drawer." With a thankful nod, Wooyoung motioned him to continue.

"Yeah, I did. I was assigned as her bodyguard. I wanted to be Hongjoong's but usually, where you'd find her, you'd find Hongjoong and the other way round." he took a deep breath, “Either way, I realised this little cat burglar was more than just a petty thief, she was his eyes and ears, his map maker, she was Hongjoong’s prized possession. I gained a good number of business details, the only problem was that I also began to learn about her, and how she’d be at school during the day- only a handful of people had seen her face and somehow, I had made it to the list.” Chuckling he placed the mask down, looking at Wooyoung who was busy setting the cutlery, “the first time I had seen her without her mask, I swear I froze up, I never thought I was religious but when I saw her, her gentle eyes to the slope of her nose to her flushed cheeks, I was sure of one thing, God really did make angels and I had just seen one in the flesh.” Wooyoung paused at the statement, only mere minutes ago he had held the same sentiments, but something else got to him too, which he bluntly put forth, “You fell for her?”

“Hard…I fell hard.”

“So …did you like…”

“No” he shook his head, “I was a hot-headed officer on my way to a promotion, like hell, I was going to give in to her, I entertained her fantasies but…never took any advantage of her, she made it difficult though,” he chuckled before sighing when Wooyoung sat down across him, plating the dishes, “I was at the precinct one-night when Hongjoong came over, offered a deal, he said, and I quote;

‘Congrats f*cker, you have my sister wrapped around your finger and she won’t let me make an example out of you, so I come with a deal, take me in- but remove her from all your papers, she never existed- ya got me?’

I didn’t think Seonghwa would agree, but even Sergeant Park Seonghwa was looking for a promotion, so we agreed, The next day we raided the HQ and got a good chunk of their top men, including Hongjoong and she was nowhere near in sight.”

“So you married her after?” Wooyoung asked, placing a bowl of rice in front of San who shook his head.

“No, I hated her, I felt like it was wrong, even if she wasn’t directly involved, she was being protected by the law. But who was I to argue? I remember, a few weeks later she came to see me at the precinct, I remember ignoring her and walking out, she literally followed after me, told me she was going to start on a clean slate, and that she could change for me.” He sighed, staring at his soup, cabbage soup, wow, maybe he should invite Wooyoung over more, “I feel like that was my fault because the very moment I told her that the sight of her disgusted me, every inch of my being hated her- she looked…so scared that night like she had lost her purpose.”

Frowning at him Wooyoung mumbled, “But…she wanted to change!”

“I know, I was a d*ck, I was arrogant, the youngest detective in the precinct, the golden boy, and she did change, went to school regularly, got her degree, hell she even got a decent job- she approached me again after that,” he sighed, before reaching to grab her plate, adding a good portion of rice and meat.

“Did you…you know, accept it?” Wooyoung asked before stuffing his face with the kimchi his wife had prepared for him, man an angel that can cook.

“No.” placing her plate down San glanced at the clock, she was gone for almost 40 minutes, must’ve been in the tub, “Worse, I led her to the worst night of her life, I broke her. We met at a club, by accident of course, I never went to clubs anyway, but when I got promoted to Sergeant, Seonghwa was simultaneously promoted to Captain, and they took us to celebrate. I met her there, she was out with some friends- she approached me, sweet as ever, though I bit back, told her to get lost, that I wouldn’t even care if she even disappeared off the planet.”

Wooyoung visibly winced at the choice of words, truly amazed by the harshness of his superior, especially after witnessing the love he had for his wife, waiting for him to continue.

“I lost her that night, only saw her getting in a cab with her friends, saw the guys too- honestly I thought to myself that night ‘so much for I love you San’. But that was my fault, I should’ve noticed how her eyes were clouded, I should’ve seen how her so-called friends were carrying her stumbling form, how they were handling her, how the guys were touching her.” He paused before letting out a shaky breath, “The next morning I remember reading an online article about another horrendous case, only this time, I knew the victim. I went to Seonghwa, the first thing I could do but he had beaten me to it, he had taken the case to the superiors who had shut it down, you know why?” he asked Wooyoung.

“Because it involved rich kids?”

“Not just any rich kids, Minister Lee’s useless son and his friends- honestly, I was more horrified by the fact that the girls were in on it, the case was closed before it even reached court. I couldn’t let it go though, I tried to contact her, but she wouldn’t even let me see her at the hospital, the nurses told me to leave and when I pushed my way through…I saw not my angel in her glory, but someone whose wings were ripped off- the way she looked at me that day, it’s like she could see through me, with the same disgust I showed to her for several years.”

“What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do, I went to Hongjoong.”

“Did he…”

“Beat me up? Yeah, the man runs the prison too, and I was foolish enough to tell him that I had met with his sister before the crime, and while he was busy breaking my fingers he asked me this one question, ‘Who does your system serve? A rich kid with STDs or a civilian girl trying to rebuild her life?’ I know that was all it took for me, for Seonghwa, that’s when we realised this is more than just some way of life, no, we were wearing the badges of honour, but we were on the wrong side.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know, he beat me up so bad I was knocked out when I woke up, I remember Seonghwa standing by my hospital bed, asking me, ‘Do you want to do the right thing?’ and I said yes. The next thing I knew as soon as I could walk again, I was at her apartment, she didn’t let me in though, but I never stopped, I’d go there each night, sit outside her door, listening to her cry at the other end. One day though, when I was about to ring the doorbell she opened the door, looked up at me, and asked me, why I’d come every night and honestly the only explanation I had was, that if there was one person, I’d give up everything for, it would be her.”

Sighing he chugged down a glass of cold water, “Things were…okay, Seonghwa and I became part of the crew, unofficially of course, we still did our jobs, she still went to work, we bought an apartment together, lived together, did everything’s couples would do. One night she asked me if I’d still love her if she took back what they took from her, she wanted to burn out the fire and there was only one way…”

“What did you…say?”

“I said I’d protect her either way.”

“So…his son didn’t technically…”

“No, he didn’t decide to end his life, she did.” He shrugged, “Who was I to stop her, I am merely her husband and her bodyguard.”

“Wait.” Wooyoung cleared his throat, “So…why did you two…I mean- what- this entire week? Why’d you fight?”

“Oh- that!” shaking his head San sighed, “Obviously Hongjoong wasn’t done with his act of vengeance, I told him it was stupid and reckless and rejected the idea, it's been years and we needed her to not think about it anymore. Though I was supposed to assign two officers for tonight’s duty, and then last week my maps were missing, I suspected it was her, that she gave them to her brother and we fought…she was angry, I was scared of losing her again and well things escalated- I didn’t believe her, until last night, that’s why I removed Officer Song as your partner for tonight, even if Hongjoong wasn’t involved, I didn’t want to risk any chances of her being there- I knew she stopped after she took his son’s life, but knowing how the two crave for blood of the rich, I needed to be sure I’d keep her out of any danger”

“Sannie!” she called out, the padding of her bear feet echoed across the floor as she came running into the kitchen, both men turning to look at her, though Wooyoung instantly looked away, clearing his throat and San sighed, “Where are your pants?”

“Pants?” tilting her head, a bit confused she looked down at her usual sleepwear, his shirt, it was big enough, covered her till her thighs, plus she was wearing her undies, “Forget that- look, did you know Joong’s gonna come visit us tomorrow?”

Choking on his spit, Wooyoung turned to stare at her wide-eyed, what did she just say?

“What???”

“Kitten, what are you saying,” gesturing for her to come closer, she sat down beside San, eying the food before showing San the food, “Apparently Minister Lee’s house caught fire- crisp like burnt chicken I hear,” she giggled before turning to smile at Wooyoung, that smug smile reminding her of a sly cat, “Didn’t know you could cook.”

Forcing a smile Wooyoung muttered, “I can, Mrs.Choi.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

“Anytime.”

“Holy shit…” San sighed, “Seonghwa is gonna have a stroke, I swear- did you- did you do this??” he turned to look at her, sighing and reaching to grab her empty glass and filling it with water as she shook her head, “No, of course not, I told you I didn’t even know the layout of his house.”

“Then what were you doing there?” he asked, finally, the right question Wooyoung thought to himself.

“Because I knew you’d be there.”

San felt like his heart was about to combust, wanting to fall into her palm, letting her squeeze it to her contentment, like a little girl with her favourite teddy bear.

“I knew you’d be there.” She smiled, leaning closer to grab his hand and admire the wedding band, right where it belonged, right where they belonged. Wooyoung could only smile in disgust, this act of pure, blind passion making him envious.

“Oh, he did text me though.”

The two men looked at her, waiting for her to speak up, but like any persistent, stubborn feline she had them wait, only continued when San poked her side, earning a giggle, “He said he wants to meet Offic- sorry- Detective Jung. Seonghwa approved of him too.”

“WHAT?” Wooyoung shrieked in disbelief earning a sigh from San, “Well, welcome to the team brat.”

“WAIT NO! I”

She giggled leaning over the table to smile at him, San’s arm instinctively wrapping around her frame, pulling her into him, “It can be our little secret~”

Taglist: @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie @marsvillee

[jeffersimp]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐇 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦?

See my masterlist here!

×A/N×

Hey!! Yes, I know, I have some few inbox that I should answer, and don't worry, I will, just let me do a quick post here- -w-

So I'm back with the promised WH headcanons! And I hope you will like them :D

(And yes, it has a short plot now. I did it. I wrote it. ✨

×❢ About my work ❢×

Fluff fluff, all is fluff! No pronouns used for the reader, but good boy/girl mentioned, even if it's expected, there's no smut. Although Howdy is a bit teasing, but it's not r rated so •-•

Fandom: Welcome Home horror project by Clown

Character(s): Wally Darling, Howdy Pillar, Barnaby B. Beagle, Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear, The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Ship(s): The Characters / The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Form: Headcanons

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: LoveGame by Lady Gaga

('cause that is next on my playlist •_•)

“Let's play a lovegame, play a lovegame

Do you want love or do you want fame?

Are you in the game?”

(All illustration belongs to Clown!)

Wally Darling

It was quiet in his house, even Home didn't let out a single crack until this moment. There was just one problem. You haven't seen your dearest puppet oh so long ago. The plan was that you two will have a cuddle time together, but he was nowhere. 

You got up from the couch and carefully looked around in the house. You cautiously called out his name, but no one responded. 

You walked around in the house a little bit, hoping to find him. 

He had his own painting room where he could make his own fantasy alive with the brush. 

You walked closer carefully, not to scare him. Even so, he could actually clearly hear you sneaking up behind him, but he was more focused on the picture. 

You peaked through his shoulders to see what he was up to. 

Oh. My. Gosh. Your heart skipped a beat. He was painting a picture of you. How cute! Wally was a very talented artist and you were very amazed in this moment. He always did such a great job. 

"This looks so great, Wally! You are such a good boy!" you said quietly, while you gently placed your head on his shoulder. 

• it comes off to him like compliment

• and it's from you

• his sweetest neighbour

• of course, he is happy! ♡

• "Thank you, Neighbour!"

• he smiles at you happily, hoping that you like his work

• "Do you like it, Neighbour?" 

• omg ofc you like it! How could you not?! 

• He is so happy about the compliment and about that you're liking his work. 

• he just stares at you happily with open mouth, listening your cheerful voice while you commenting of him and his art

Eddie Dear 

Eddie came home and you could tell, he was clearly exhausted. Poor boy, running back and forth all day, and do this job all alone, it must be tiring. 

He got down next to you, just quietly lied down on his back and put his head on your lap. 

"Hey." you said softly, curling his hair gently with your fingers. 

"Hey, love!" he looked at you with his tired eyes, but his lips still curled up into a kind smile. 

You were resting quietly in the warm room, just hearing each other's calm breathing was enough relaxing. 

"It must be hard for you to do this job all alone, Eddie." you said quietly, no to destroy this calm moment that you have been in for awhile. "You're such a good boy!" you chuckled. 

• he slowly opens his eyes, looks straight up at you

• look, idk if they can blush, but now he does it okay? 

• like his face is completely red

• he always gets so flushed when you complimenting him

• he's so flattered 

• and so damn cute ♡

• he's speechless, he can't think of what he could say

• so he just simply says

• "Oh... Erm... Thanks, (Y/N)!" 

• he will definitely give a kiss to your hands in return

• Your compliments mean too much for him ♡

(a.n: btw I love Edddie, he is such a sweetheart 🥺 ♡

He is definitely my favourite character beside Barnaby! ★) 

Barnaby. B. Beagle

 He knew that work is tiring for you and you had a long day. He wanted to do something pleasant for you. He couldn't cook, it was too difficult for him and he didn't wanna blow up the kitchen with his tryings. So instead of cooking, he cleaned out. It was not as perfect like you would did it, but it was acceptable. He was already finished when you were standing in front of the red and blue colored door. It was easy to recognize it. It had similar colors as Barnaby and it was the biggest door in the neighbourhood. 

He opened the door with a happiest smile on his face. He was clearly missing you. He let you in and you immediately took a seat on the comfy couch. 

Just a few minutes after you had some chance to look around. The house wasn't perfectly clean, like you could still something in the conner, but it was enough to make you feel happy and greatful about Barnaby. 

"What a good boy!"

• omg i can imagine how his tail starts wagging

• I mean he's like a dog, but different, but still a dog, so what did you expect?

• he definitely loves it when you call him a good boy

• he just listens your soft and lovely voice while you caressing and rubbing his fluffy head

• he especially likes rubs behind his big ears

• will rest his head on your lap and just melt in and let you to pet and praise him

• probably will bite you carefully in an affection way

• or slobber on you occasionally

• he wants you to say it more times, so he'll try to make you proud as often as he can

• he absolutely loves it ♡

"Thank you, Barnaby!" 

Frank Frankly

You wanted to see your partner's reaction too much to lose this idea. You leaned forward in the chair to get a better look at Frank, then you called him. 

"You are such a good boy, Frank!" 

• he looks up at you strangely and confused

• you can't help, but giggle a little bit cause the frustration

• "Well... Thank you, (Y/N)..." 

• then he goes back to his job

• probably he has to do something with those colorful bugs what are around him

• seems like he found a better company than you :") 

• you stood up and got over to him, tried not to hurt his garden and the bugs

• "But seriously, hon, I do think that you're doing an amazing job!" you said it softly as you hugged him from behind.

"Thank you, Darling." he smiles at you adorably

• he still adores you dw ♡

• but he definitely likes dear, hon, love or even darling more :D

• (btw I think it would make him uncomfortable- not sure, but I feel like- lol)

Howdy Pillar

You rested your arm on the counter as Howdy checked your items. You watched his movements. Slowly tracing your eyes from his face down to his hands, paying attention to details as well.

"Y'know, you do so much work in this place, Howdy. Like a good boy." You added jokingly the last sentence, didn't think of it too much, though.

He stopped moving for and looked up on you. You look directly in his eyes, getting red of embarassment.

"I mean-" You looked away sheepishly. "Not like that, just... You're doing such a good job here, y'know? It must be hard to keep this place alright by yourself." you chuckled awkardly, trying to change the awkard mood that you accidently did.

Howdy was still looking at you, but he didn't seem nervous or weird out about this. He just stared at you and then suddenly his lips curled into a kind, but a teasing smile.

"Yeah, it is." he answered.

He already put in a bag the last item you have bought of him, then he gently gave the bag to you with his third hand.

"You wanna drink a quick Dark Roast with me? Or if you prefer it more, you can have orange juice, or tea." he leaned closer to you on the counter.

"Sure." you said.

He walked away from the counter as one of his hands started to lead you beside him.

He glanced at you with a smile and said

"You still have to pay, though. Don't think that I'll forgot."

• omg-

• i don't think he'll mind it y'know

• but he prefers call you a good pet/boy/girl

• he may get teasy about it

• beside that, he will treat it as a compliment (cause he really deserves it)

• call him often, he won't mind

• just please don't call him like that in public :>

• he's cool with it :D

[zorrasucia]

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," I AM DEAD!!! and i revived just to BEG you to expand on this please i just love them so much 😭

I'm so glad you liked it, Anon! I came up with something but I'm like 90% sure it's not what you were asking for - I aimed to write more smut and it turned into saccharine fluff somehow. I apologize. Rest assured that the next update for this fic is business as usual, very spicy and contains Carmy finally ******* ****** :)

Teach Me Tonight - Deleted Scene 2.0

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] Deleted Scene: [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Mature (1k)

Tags: Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Smut, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Domesticity

"Hey, baby," Carmy mumbled with a smile, rolling over in bed and looking at you with sleepy eyes.

You had padded into the room and leaned over to kiss his neck, waking him up from his third nap of the day. In between, you had fucked - slow and loving, then quick and hard, then a mix of both. You felt tired in the best way - and still somehow you wanted him. But you could wait.

"Shhh. I'm not here for another round," you soothed, moving a lock of hair out of his face. "Got us some pizza," you settled across from him, laying the box between you.

He sat up and ogled you shamelessly. You were wearing jeans and one of his shirts, your nipples showing through the white fabric.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he shook his head and focused on the slice of pizza you handed him instead.

"I mean," you gestured at him, his naked torso and satisfied smirk, "likewise, Carm."

You shared a hungry look while taking a bite of pepperoni. He broke first, looking up at the ceiling, away from you.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"Mmm?" you nudged his leg with your foot.

"You come like two, three times when I can only do one and be just useless..." he blushed, curiosity tinting his skin. "I was just wondering what that was like, if all women were like that."

You smiled. Sometimes you forgot that he was a virgin before you.

"A lot of women can, uh, come multiple times," you explained. "If it's done properly, if you work for it," you cleared your throat. "Some women can't come at all."

"That sounds, uh-" Carmy struggled.

"Miserable?" you supplied and he nodded. "It can be. But sex isn't always about coming, you know? It's about being close and getting to know each other."

Carmy hummed pensively.

Just now, between one round and the next you had fallen asleep still intertwined, spent, his arms around your waist and his softening cock inside you. It was nice, to be so close with zero expectations of it going anywhere.

"What've you learned about me? With sex, I mean," he asked, his blue eyes wide.

"That you're giving, uh, determined, a fast learner," you pondered for a minute while you chewed. "A bit of a control freak but we knew that from before," he chuckled. "And you think you don't deserve good shit, even though you do."

"Pretty spot on," he let out a shaky breath.

You caressed his calf over the bedsheets. It felt strange to be talking about this but it had been a fucking weird day, and discussing orgasms with Carmy while eating pizza fit right in.

"You're a great fuck, Carm," you said softly. "And that takes patience and care and- I love that you want to make me feel good. I do," his gaze was downward and you reached for his hand. "I just don't want you to think you need to be perfect for me here too, you know? There's no pressure."

Carmy nodded and his eyes met yours, he gave you a soft smile.

"Thanks," he brushed your knuckles with his thumb. Then his smile turned mischievous. "Just to be sure, you do like coming though?" he looked for confirmation, head tilted.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Obviously, yeah," you poked at his side and reached for another slice of pizza. "I'm just saying there's no pressure, okay?"

"Okay," he took a big bite of crust. "You didn't answer my question from before," he prompted, raising his eyebrows. "How does it feel?"

"Uh. Well, you don't know how good it's going to be until you're coming. Sometimes it slows down, becomes softer. Or you get halfway through the next and get stuck there," you shrugged. "Sometimes it builds up, becomes more intense each time-"

"Like the last one?" he asked.

You blushed - the memory of him on top of you, his chain dangling near your mouth, his hands holding your wrists above your head, taking up all your thoughts. He had fucked you through your first orgasm until you saw stars and your moans turned into cries of pleasure.

"Exactly like that," you replied bashfully like it wasn't you that had begged him to keep going and fuck you harder.

"How many have you done?" Carmy asked after a while.

"Huh?"

"How many times you've come in a row?" he repeated, that calculating look back on his face. "What's the max?"

"I don't know, five?" you laughed nervously. "I think you're getting the wrong message from this, Carm."

"No, I know," he shook his head. "I was guessing we could start with all that 'no pressure' thing tomorrow. And I think I still have one more round left in me today, so..."

"What the fuck, Carm?" you giggled.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding how flustered you were.

"I'm serious," he said, amusement still showing in his tone. You finally uncovered your face and looked at him. He was smiling but he wasn't joking. "I don't know how to be calm," he explained. "I don't know how to fucking relax and be normal. I never have. Being with you- That's the closest I've come to that," he said softly. You cupped his face tenderly. "But sometimes it gets so crazy that the only thing I know I can do well is make you feel good. That's why I can be a control freak and competitive and insane..."

You shushed him.

"You're fine, baby," you caressed Carmy's shoulders, scooting closer to him. "I love that you're all those things. I just- You push yourself to the limit. You can hurt yourself trying to make everything perfect," your thumb traced the edge of the dark circles around his eyes - all from early mornings and late nights at The Bear. "I don't want to be that for you - another weight, another thing that needs to be perfect."

"You're not," he whispered. "You've never been that, okay?"

"Okay," you sighed and surged forward to kiss him, his face between your palms.

Even after the kiss was over you stayed there, your forehead on his, and your noses touching.

"So," you said after a while, "how about we finish this," you pointed at the pizza, "and watch a movie?"

You had learned that watching a movie with Carmy was shorthand for a nap on the couch since he was always so fucking tired.

He chuckled against your mouth.

"I think I can manage that," he replied, guiding you by the hand to the living room.

~

[Part 8]

~

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 4

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 25,488

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, some mild violence/blood, a big fat serving of angst, cunnilingus, blowjobs, light bondage, nipple clamps, piv sex, creampie, spanking

A/N: The final part is here! Sorry for the long wait, but I hope the climax ends up being well worth the journey and everyone enjoys what I cooked for these two! I had a lot of fun writing this short series, maybe I'll get to do another in the future!

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

You liked Sigewinne. Really, you did. But the way she looks at you is always a little strange, her gaze lingering on a spot about two centimeters from the center of your face rather than your eyes, and you’re never quite sure what to make of it. 

The first few times Wriothesley steered you down to the infirmary — for “safe keeping” while he tended to other matters, or so he’d said — you’d been so convinced that there was something on your cheek that you had quickly excused yourself from her in hot faced embarrassment, but there wasn’t ever anything there when you would check. It was certainly odd, but you’d realized soon enough that it was better just to pretend like you didn’t notice it. 

While that was certainly easier said than done she was still sweet, and you liked the Melusines. You didn’t want to make her feel bad, thinking perhaps she couldn’t help it, but especially not when you had neither the interest nor the right to judge anyone else for their little quirks or oddities, least of all over something as benign as this. 

The exceedingly strange things she would say to you from time to time were another matter entirely, though. 

“Your facial muscles really are very interesting, you know. I quite enjoy getting to observe them like this.” She tells you, perfectly polite and innocent as she hands you a small plate of cookies. Trying very hard not to squirm under those big, doe-like eyes, you hesitantly accept it with a soft word of thanks. 

You didn’t have the slightest clue what to make of that, but if she notices your uncertainty she doesn’t show it. 

“The first time we met I couldn’t help but notice that there was some tension in the way you would hold yourself. Almost like you were always on the defensive, or anticipating a fight of some kind.” Hopping up into the chair beside you, Sigewinne pulls one of those god awful milkshakes she’d once made for you closer to herself so she can cradle it between her daintily gloved hands. “But now you look really rather relaxed and even happy! I’m so glad you’re feeling more at ease now.” 

“Thank you, miss Sigewinne. That’s very kind of you to say.” It takes a great deal of effort to keep your voice steady, and an even greater effort to stay seated instead of bolting from the room in a flustered panic. Relaxed and at ease was certainly one way to put it … ever since the fundraiser ball two nights prior, you’d felt like you were floating on a soft little cloud everywhere you went and you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out why. 

It was love, wasn’t it? 

“I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but I think you look so incredibly beautiful now. Almost like you’re glowing.” 

You cautiously inch your gaze up to peek over at her from the corner of your eye. Glowing? You’d always heard rumors that the Melusine’s perceive the world a bit differently than humans do and you had no idea what she was seeing in that moment when she looked at you, but it makes you flush all the same. Dammit, Wriothesley, how long was this going to take? You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to keep your reactions in check. 

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you but you always look very fresh and dewy faced as well, miss Sigewinne. I hope you’ll share your beauty secrets with me one day?” 

She seems quite pleased to hear that, sitting up a little straighter in her chair, and you quickly bring your cup of coffee up to sip, glad for the ready distraction. 

“Oh, there’s not much to share, I’m afraid. Just a bit of cream before bed and cold water in the morning to chase away any puffiness is really all it takes. I’d ask for your secrets and tips, but I unfortunately don’t have any gentlemen friends to help me with the application.” 

You choke on your coffee with a violent lurch, very nearly dumping the whole mug all over the counter in your haste to set it down. Whipping your head around, you just gape at her in barefaced disbelief but she only smiles that perfectly innocent smile again. 

“Don’t worry, miss. Your secret is safe with me.” Sigewinne assures you, passing a handkerchief into your lax fingers. “I’m just glad you and his grace are getting along so well. He seems rather relaxed recently too, doesn’t he? Oh, that reminds me!” 

Left reeling like a stray buoy lost out at sea, helplessly carried off by the tumultuous, stormy waves, you numbly watch her dig back into the pocket of her apron for a brief moment. Idly, perhaps even a bit hysterically, you wonder what other secrets she’s got hidden away in there. 

“As it turns out, I actually have a gift for you today! I do hope you’ll like it.” 

You sincerely hope it’s not another of her desolate tasting concoctions as you turn your shell shocked attention down at the hand she sticks out toward you. Genuine surprise promptly rushes into the forefront of your mind though when you realize she’s holding a … small tube? 

“Is this lipstick?” You venture as you cautiously take the petite, gold burnished item from her. 

“Yes, it is. I think that color will look lovely on you and really compliment your complexion. His grace is quite fond of the color red, you know.” 

You nearly drop the damned thing at the startle that races up your arm. “Miss Sigewinne, please! Although I appreciate your thoughtfulness in gifting me such a thing, I really don’t think …” 

The long, upright ears atop her head give a sudden twitch that makes you trail off, and then you hear it too just half a second later. A hurried rush of footsteps coming down the hall. Heartbeat quickening, you stiffly find your feet in time to watch a young inmate come stumbling into the infirmary with wide, nervous eyes that quickly dart around to take in the room. 

“Has anyone seen his grace recently?” He stammers between out of breath gasps. “We, um, we have a bit of a situation out there.” 

Your stomach drops like a lead weight. Then, before you even realize you’ve already made the decision to do so, you’re lurching into motion. “What’s going on?”

“Oh! Uh, well, on the central platform - -“

“Wait!” Sigewinne yelps behind you, but it’s too late. Your legs are already carrying you past him, out the door and down the hall, boots smacking against the metal plated flooring. 

You didn’t even really understand it yourself, this sudden choking feeling of dread that makes your throat almost cinch shut to leave you struggling to pull in enough air long before you should have run out of stamina. All you could think about was George. Seeing the way his wrist had been engulfed by a much bigger hand when it flashes across your mind, again and again on a continuous loop. How easily it had snapped. 

The sound. 

You did not want Wriothesley to get involved if you could help it. That was the one and only thing you knew with any certainty. 

You hear the commotion as soon as you reach the end of the hall, just in the near distance. It sounded like a brawl. Leaping down the metal staircase with your heart lodged in your throat, you dash towards the noise headlong — not sure what you were going to do, if you could even do anything — but the sight you come up to pulls you short a few yards away. 

There were already guards working to pull the mess of prisoners off of one another. That was a good sign. The Clockwork Meka in the area were also making their way over, a few already subduing some of the inmates that were standing on the outskirts of the greater commotion in the center. An even better sign. 

And in all of the chaos Wriothesley’s tall, unmistakable silhouette was nowhere to be found. It was the best sign of all. 

Haltingly stiff, you force yourself to draw oxygen into your constricting lungs and take a cautious step closer. You scan the discordant scene, trying to figure out what was even happening or if there was something you could do to help when a starburst of red abruptly catches your attention amidst the shouting and flailing bodies. It’s all over the floor. A few of the prisoners in the center are stained with it. The distant, numb chill of a vertigo-inducing free fall grips you all at once. You see it when the meka separate the two men who seem to have been at the epicenter of it. The knife. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A blocky hand closes around your elbow from behind and roughly yanks you back a step. You don’t need to look to know who it is, but you still find your neck slowly craning back anyway. Wriothesley’s dark brows are pinched in what you think is probably anger, but you try to tell yourself it’s just concern. He never got angry with you. Not truly. Not like this. 

“There’s a fight.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. 

“I can see that, but that doesn’t answer my question.” He practically hisses at you. Giving your arm a tight squeeze that stops just short of pain, he leans over you to bring his face close and he drops the volume of his voice so that only you can hear. “We will discuss this later. I want you to go back to my office and wait for me there while I take care of this mess, do you understand me?” 

“I can help - -“

“No, you cannot. I’m not going to tell you again. Now do as I say. Quickly.” 

You stir slightly from your dumbfounded shock. “Do not take that tone with me, your grace. You can’t shield me from this forever! If I am to be with you then - -“ 

The sharp twist he gives your elbow startles a hurt little gasp out of you, and he uses that moment of stunned shock to get right on top of you now. “So help me if you speak one more word instead of heeding my orders, I promise you will not like how this ends. Get yourself to my office. Now!” 

You can’t help the way you cower from him, wrenching back in his hold with wide, frightened eyes that almost seem to look right through him in that moment. He lets you go, thankfully, and you stumble a step as he turns with a quick pivot of his heel. Wriothesley doesn’t even look back at you once as he purposefully strides towards the chaos, and the mess of limbs and bodies, the Clockwork Meka, and the blood, and you nearly trip over your own feet when you back up another pace. You hear Sigewinne calling out somewhere behind you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they can by the sound of it, but you can’t bring yourself to turn and look at her. Not when it felt like you were seconds away from shattering like a fragile piece of glass that had been mercilessly dashed against the wall. 

Suddenly feeling blind and numb to everything going on around you, you make a run for it. Your legs carry you without any input from your brain telling them where to go. The only thought going through your mind now is that you had to get away. Couldn’t let anyone see you break. You knew you would. It was only a matter of when, not if. 

If you could get behind the safety of closed doors where you could cry your eyes out in peace without the shame of anyone watching to hang over your head. 

If you could find the peace and quiet of seclusion in time, or if someone would spot you, stop you, and bear witness to your humiliation first. 

If you could keep it together just long enough to find a nice dark hole to crawl into so you could curl up and die alone. 

And somehow you’re not the least bit surprised that your legs obediently take you straight to Wriothesley’s office, just as he’d commanded. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re not sure how much time you’ve spent just sitting in the dark, pitifully weeping until there was nothing left for you to cry, when you hear Wriothesley come in through the door. You don’t look up from your spot huddled in a tight ball on the chair behind his desk but you figured you probably didn’t need to anyway. He was likely still mad at you, given the way he’d parted from you earlier, and even if he wasn’t you were still mad at him. 

Truthfully you didn’t even want to be in the same room with him right now, but you’d been too scared of what would happen if he returned to his office and found it empty to get up and leave. You’d thought about it many times over the last minutes, hours, days, months — however long you’d sat here in your misery, hating everything but most of all hating him. 

He’d never once raised his voice at you like that. 

The sound of his boots on the floor ratchets the exhausted tension thrumming through your body, but his footsteps are slow. Weary, as he makes his way over to stand next to the desk. You feel a brief spark of concern for him, wondering if he’d been hurt, but the thought quickly fades. It would serve him right, you think. 

Resounding silence seems to stretch on for an eternity in which neither of you moves or speaks. It doesn’t even sound like either one of you is breathing at all. Then, at length, he finally draws a carefully controlled inhale. 

“Why are you sitting in the dark, little miss?” 

“Do not call me that.” 

A terse pause. 

“Are we back to that again?” 

You squeeze your fists hard enough to hurt where they’re wrapped around your knees, hating the press of the lipstick Sigewinne had given you in your palm. You wouldn’t be needing it any longer. She could have it back. 

“Yes, your grace.” You rattle out, your voice hoarse and thin, but slowly gaining strength the more you talk. “I must apologize for the lack of foresight on my part, but it has just occurred to me that I seem to have made a very big mistake. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may cause you, but I think it’s time we go our separate ways.” 

“Inconvenience?” Scoffing, Wriothesley appears to stir from his own fatigue, and he moves to turn on the lamp. You wince against the sudden wash of light across your burning, aching eyes, but still you refuse to look at him when he continues on. “Don’t be silly. You know it’s much more than that. If you want me to apologize for snapping at you earlier I’ll gladly do it.” 

“I don’t want anything from you, your grace.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” You insist, hissing now. “You have — you’ve been nothing but a blockheaded, rocks for brains oaf the entire time I’ve known you and I’m not sure what came over me for my common sense to falter this badly, but I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of you! It’s obvious you think so little of me that you see me as more of a pet than a person, and I’m finished with it!” 

“I think no such thing.” Wriothesley volleys right back, perfectly calm now and still standing next to the lamp, but it just makes you even angrier. Everything about him was suddenly making you so damn mad. 

This room that was so resoundingly his, the smell of him everywhere and mixed with the distantly comforting, lingering aroma of brewed tea. The weight of his presence here with you and the memories you’d shared within these walls, both the good and the bad. His voice, always so reasonable and even, except … except when it hadn’t been. You couldn’t seem to erase the way he’d sounded out on the platform from your mind. He’d scared you, hadn’t he? And that infuriated you. In fact you had half a mind to chuck the lipstick in your hand right at his stupid, smug face but you refrain for the simple fact that you didn’t want to tempt fate like that again. 

He’d trained you well, evidently, but your bitter feelings only grow at the thought. 

“I know you’re unhappy with me right now,” He finally says when you neither move nor speak. “And I can’t exactly fault you for that, but at least hear me out first before you start calling an end to everything. You know I don’t want to see you go. I would rather die than let that happen.” 

You choke on a vindictive laugh. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you yelled at me in my face like that. You had no right! Despite how you so often treat me, I am not a child for you to boss around and bully into submission!” 

“You’re wrong about that.” He says, so reasonable and sincere that it finally startles your head up. Did he seriously have the gall to - - “This is my fortress and I make the rules here. We’ve been over this before. I’m in my right to do whatever I please, whenever the mood so strikes me. You know that. Not once have I ever led you to believe any different. Not even when I’ve had you wrapped around me begging to get you off have I ever changed that narrative.”

“Do not bring that up right now!” You quake. “And you said - -“ 

“I said you had the power in our relationship because I wanted you to have it. If I’d really felt so compelled to force myself on you and take you without any concern for your feelings on the matter, I could have easily done that at any point. And as long as I did it here, in my fortress, there isn’t much you could have done about it. Even if you’d run straight to The Steambird or right into Neuvillette’s no doubt sympathetic arms, I likely would have just gotten a slap on the wrist for it and nothing more. Do not mistake my kindness for something it’s not.” 

“Kindness! Is that what you call it?” You’re suddenly on your feet, staring him down across the desk. Your entire body shakes with it, this overwhelming desire to reach out and slap him. Claw at him. Just really, really hurt him. “Well, isn’t that just a wonderful note to end this ridiculous farce on! Was this all just sport for you then? A meaningless way for you to pass your abundance of free time? I knew you had a selfish streak, your grace, but I didn’t quite realize just how deep it actually ran!”

Wriothesley frowns at that, like you’ve struck a distant nerve. “That is not what I meant and you know it. And I wouldn’t consider myself selfish for wanting to protect you.” 

“Oh, here we go again! Tell me all about how much you care for me while completely steamrolling everything I say at the same time! Go on! Let’s hear it then!” 

He takes a moment to breathe deep, his broad shoulders rising and falling in the gloom cast by the single lamp. “I think you need to calm down, little miss. You’ve got yourself worked up into such a fit right now that you’re just saying whatever you think is going to get under my skin, but it’s not going to work.” You suck in a sharp, venomous inhale, readying to spit vitriol at him, but he holds a hand up to stop you. “Just hold on and listen to me for a moment. Can you at least do that? I’m not going to say ‘or else’, nor do I have any mind for punishing you for the way you’re acting. I’m well aware you’re deeply unhappy with me right now and that’s understandable, but I’m sure we can talk this out.” 

“What is there to even talk about at this point!” 

“You nearly scared the life out of me today.” 

You jerk back as if he’d physically struck you. “… what?” 

For once — possibly even for the first time since you’d met him — Wriothesley is the one who lowers his gaze to look elsewhere. “This may not be what you want to hear, but try to think about it from my perspective. The last time I saw you, I’d left you with Sigewinne. I thought you were in the infirmary. When word got to me about the brawl that broke out on that floor I was under the impression you were somewhere safe, far away from any of the violence or danger. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and saw you standing there, not even twenty steps away from all that mess. I thought my heart was going to give right out. I wasn’t mad at you, little miss. I was scared for you.” 

The following silence almost breaks you, and you have to force yourself to start breathing again when the ache in your chest becomes too great. “Is that supposed to make it okay?” You whisper into the suddenly fragile stillness. It felt like a pin drop would irreparably shatter everything in the room. 

“No, but calling this off isn’t going to make it okay either. For what it’s worth I am sorry for yelling at you, and grabbing your arm like that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” 

With a faint start, you reach up to gingerly touch your sore elbow where he’d twisted it. The muscles were just a bit tender, possibly bruised, but still in one piece. “I’m fine.” You lie, squeezing the petite lipstick tube with your other hand. You could feel your anger at him starting to falter and you hated that. Desperately, you try to cling to it. “I’m not sure how you expect me to rationalize this. If you care for me so much and want me to be yours, then what do you expect is going to happen? Will I just be another prisoner here in your fortress? You can’t … Wriothesley, you can’t protect me from everything that goes on here. I wanted to help you. I want to help them! Someone was — someone was hurt, weren’t they?” 

You sway on your feet with the rush of smothering dread that comes over you, suddenly feeling lightheaded enough to faint dead away. The blood, the knife, the tangle of bodies and limbs. It all flashes across your mind in a nauseating stream of images, but he’s standing there next to you in the time it takes you to blink. Carefully, he reaches out to steady you by the shoulders. 

You let him do it because … because you’re not so sure you can steady yourself anymore. 

“I was worried about this. Come on, let's get you sitting in the chair.” 

“Wriothesley - -“ You mewl, weakly pushing at him, but he won’t hear it. “You always do this to me!” 

“Just try to relax a little bit.” He tries to soothe you. “I’m not silencing you or brushing you off, sweetheart. We can still talk but you need to sit down before you hurt yourself. I’m not sure what I would even do if you busted your head open from hitting it on something in here.” 

The note of genuine concern in his voice, so soft and hushed, is what convinces you to comply, and certainly not the mental image of you bleeding out there on his floor. It was almost enough to make you regurgitate everything in your stomach right down to the bile. 

Reluctantly, you let him guide you back into the chair. He hovers over you for a moment to make sure you’re properly situated first and then, much to your gaping surprise, he sinks down on one knee to peer up at you from below. You can’t exactly hide your face like this, so you just stare at him in silent, miserable wonder. 

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, pretty girl. Will you do that for me?” You offer him a brief nod, too drained to fight it anymore. Too tired to fight with him. Too sick. “Both of those men are going to be just fine. Relatively speaking, of course. I’m sure they’ll wish otherwise once I properly get my hands on them, but neither of them sustained any life threatening injuries today. No one is going to die just because you weren’t there to do anything about it.” 

Your heart seems to freeze over with something you don’t recognize. Something you don’t want to recognize, and you start to pull back, too stunned to even respond. But he reaches up to clutch your wrists in his big hands and he holds you in place, preventing you from retreating. 

“It’s okay. Just listen.” He goes on, not giving you a chance to throw up your walls or come up with something blithe to say. “I finally understood why you act the way you do when you told us about your father the other night. You’re a lovely girl. So clever and strong willed, and terribly, terribly passionate about everything you take on in this world. Your ideas for prison reform and rehabilitation. The way you just want the best for everyone. How you put up with me. You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing but no matter how much you might want to, you just can’t save everyone. It simply isn’t possible. Some people don’t want to be saved. Some won’t let you save them. Others are simply a lost cause. You have to understand that on some level even if you aren’t happy about it … right?”

Wriggling one of your hands free of his hold, you reach up to furiously swipe at the tears suddenly streaming down your face. “Of course I know that, you big oaf! I’m not stupid.” 

“Then tell me what you thought you were going to do back there. What was going through your head that would make you get that close to such a big fight? Huh?” 

You draw a quick breath, so sure you had the answer right on the tip of your tongue, but your words fail you at the last minute. Hesitating, you slowly close your mouth and then try again. Still, it won’t come out. Suddenly you wished for the courage of your anger back. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Softly shushing you, Wriothesley smooths his thumb over the still captured wrist in his hand with sedate, comforting circles of the calloused pad. “Take your time if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.” 

A threadbare, wet little laugh bursts out of you. “I’m afraid you might not like the answer, your grace …” 

“That’s alright. I won’t get mad.” Bending over your lap, he presses a firm kiss to the back of your hand. “I promise.” 

With a great deal of effort, you manage to suck in a faltering breath and it all comes rushing out in a sudden stream. “I was worried about you. I’m not sure why, but … I kept thinking back on what happened with George. Maybe it doesn’t even make any sense. It probably doesn’t. It’s just — I was so scared that you were going to show up to put a stop to the fighting and … hurt someone in the process.” 

Wriothesley lets that ruminate for a long beat, just idly toying with your hand while he seems to deliberate over something. At length, he finally speaks again. “Why does it bother you so much to think about me causing harm to others? You don’t really believe I’m above acts of violence, do you?” 

“It’s not exactly that …” You tell him slowly, thinking that was a very strange way to word such a question. “It’s just hard for me to make any sense of it in my mind. The strong, handsome, sometimes annoyingly affable duke who I shared a bed with and … the frightening prison warden who can hurt people without a second thought. Where does one end and the other begin, your grace? How will I know for certain what will set you off and what won’t?” 

Loosing a clipped, tired sigh, he sits back enough to pin you with an unexpectedly resigned look. “I think the two are probably a little closer to being one and the same than you even think, pretty girl.” 

Your brows slowly draw inward to accompany the vague sense of dread that washes over you. “What do you mean?” 

“Do you feel up to hearing a story? I’ve been meaning to tell you about this for some time now, but I’m afraid it’s a bit of an unpleasant topic …” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Listless and drained of the energy to do much of anything else, you roll over in your bed to stare up at the ceiling. It had been almost a week now since you’d shared this space with Wriothesley and somehow everything had changed so drastically in that time that you weren’t even sure if you were ever going to occupy it with him again. 

His parents? 

You’d never heard of anything quite so cruel and disgusting in all your life. Who in their right mind would adopt children just to turn around and sell them for profit? Disposing of those that didn’t find any buyers or the ones who learned of their deep, dark secret. Adopting more. Continuing the cycle. How many orphans had lost their lives before Wriothesley … 

At first you almost hadn’t believed him. Didn’t want to believe him. It was hard to process even now when you’d spent countless hours letting it all turn over in your head without end, just trying to make sense of everything, but a kernel of truth had still rung true in his story. Maybe it was the unfaltering way he’d spoken of it, just pure and simple factuality in his voice, or perhaps it was the way he’d looked you straight in the eye while recounting the whole sordid tale. So casually he’d laid his dirty past on your lap like some gruesome little offering. 

Well. If nothing else that at least finally explained why he was so unlike any other aristocrat you’d ever known. Why he didn’t seem to fit in. Why he was so rough around the edges and uncouth, and ill mannered, and rascally to the nth degree. 

He was … he was actually not that much different from you. 

That was almost as hard to rationalize in your mind as the fact he’d killed his parents — not without reason; even you couldn’t say he didn’t have good cause, or at least an understandable motive for doing it — but still. He’d killed not just one but two people. No wonder breaking someone’s arm had seemed like such a nonissue to him. It really wasn’t that big of a deal in comparison, relatively speaking.

“Gods, I hate this …” 

Your ceiling doesn’t respond. It doesn’t offer you any comfort or advice, or even a friendly pat on the shoulder in consolation. The flat had never felt quite so resoundingly empty and lonely before, and you’re distantly aware of children playing outside in the near distant street through the window on the opposite wall. Children. His parents. Dead. Your own father, dead. Stabbed. The knife, the blood, the limbs, the bodies, the scuffle of feet on the metal floor, the - - 

Lurching up off the bed, you manage to grab for the little garbage bin in the corner with just enough time to spare for you to retch into it. You were making yourself sick. All this thinking and stressing, and agonizing was catching up to you. 

You couldn’t stay locked up in here another moment longer. 

Quickly cleaning yourself up and getting dressed, you practically run out of your apartment just to escape the buzz in your head. It doesn’t exactly work though. Not really anyway, and you spend a very long time just walking around the city without any destination or higher thought process in mind. You weren’t even really sure where you were going when your head was such a mess of static white noise, but you do start to feel marginally better the more fresh air you breathe in and the more the sun caresses over your face. 

At least it had more comfort to provide than your impartial, uncaring ceiling. 

So caught up in your low mood, you almost walk right past him — the only thing registering vaguely in your peripheral is the Melusine shaped figure and the tall man standing with her — but then the soft little ‘oh’ that floats after you turns your head. You’re very surprised to suddenly find monsieur Neuvillette standing before you like that, as if it was a totally normal thing for him to be doing. 

“What a pleasant surprise.” He starts to smile, small and polite, and kind, but something in your face gives him pause. The pull at his brow is so slight and minuscule that it barely even registers, but you still recognize when he looks at you in concern. “Are you alright, mademoiselle? You look as if something is troubling you.” 

You start to tell him you’re fine, not to worry about it, you’re just feeling a little under the weather is all, hahaa — but then you think better of it. Something curls in the back of your mind. A memory, so close to being forgotten your fingers slip right through it the first few times you make a grab at it. What had Wriothesley said about the honorary Iudex once before … 

Then it hits you. 

Your heart twists, and you impulsively close the distance between you and him. “Monsieur Neuvillette, do … do you have a moment to speak with me?” 

He looks a little surprised at both the close proximity as much as the tinge of sorrow in your voice but, still, he gives you a gracious nod all the same. “Of course I can spare a few minutes. Although I’m not sure how much I’ll actually be able to assist you, mademoiselle, I will make every attempt to be of help. Shall we find a bench to sit and chat?” 

You jerk your head in the affirmative, already scanning the area while he says his farewells to the Melusine he’s been speaking to when you happened to pass by. This was almost suspiciously coincidental to run into him in such a way and a part of you doesn’t exactly trust it, but you were a little too desperate for answers to let any of that dissuade you. Finally spotting a street bench just down the road, you make a quick beeline for it with Neuvillette close in tow. Luckily his legs were more than long enough for him to keep up without facilitating the need to hurry. 

Anxiously, you peer over at him. “Sorry for taking up your time like this, your honor. I’ll try to make it brief. It’s about Wriothesley.” 

He sends you a slow, strange look. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but I didn’t expect it to be about anything else. Has he done something to upset you?” 

Somehow you actually find the grace to be embarrassed about that, and your cheeks start to grow warm. “Yes. Sort of. But not really. Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I am simply at a loss!” 

Making it to the bench not a moment too soon, you half collapse onto the seat while your unexpected companion moves to get himself situated beside you, sitting a polite distance away. For a long moment you just slouch there, having no idea where to even start while city life continues to move on without you but he’s patient in a way that feels infinite and it slowly puts you at ease. 

So you tell him everything. 

Well, most everything. You leave out the sordid details of your sexual, oft times confusing relationship, of course, but you tell him all about what happened with George, the fight you’d had afterward, the way Wriothesley made you feel grounded and safe most days but then just the thought of him hurting someone sent you straight into a panic. You finish with the brawl at the prison, telling him both sides of the story so he knew that you weren’t the only one who’d been frightened. You’d scared Wriothesley too, and you believed it. He didn’t really have any reason to lie about that. 

And although Neuvillette does look mildly uncomfortable at certain parts, he does indeed listen and he listens well. Just getting it all off your chest makes you feel worlds better, not having had anyone to talk to this entire time. But at length, after a moment of careful consideration, the Chief Justice of Fontaine finally draws a carefully tempered breath. 

“I see. That is indeed quite the harrowing tale. Not that I’m particularly surprised, mind you. It seems like romance between people most often is. I’d say that’s relatively par for the course … however, I believe what makes this situation between you and mister Wriothesley so different from the norm is that neither of you are normal people.” 

You can’t quite hide your reaction, but he’s quick to soothe you. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, mademoiselle. Please do not fret over my poor choice of words. What I meant to say is just that both of you are exceptional people who have lived very exceptional lives. There isn’t anything mundane about either of you.” 

Was he — praising you? “Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. That’s very kind of you to say, but - -“ 

“But that’s not what you wanted to hear from me, is it?” At your nod, he tips his head slightly to one side. “Do you doubt the authenticity of mister Wriothesley’s story?” 

“No. I believe him. I just can’t imagine he’d ever lie about something like that and that wouldn’t even begin to explain why? What could he possibly get out of it?” Sighing wearily, you fix your attention on your hands where they’re neatly folded in your lap. You were so tired. “I suppose I just want you to tell me … is it true? What he told me his adoptive parents were doing?” 

“I’m afraid so. There was a thorough investigation, of course, and the evidence was conclusive. I felt nothing but sympathy for mister Wriothesley when he stood before me in court, and even now I can’t imagine how he must have felt learning the truth or how he had to make his decision to react in the face of something so terrible.”

“And you still sentenced him to prison?” 

“I did.” 

A long stretch of quiet passes between the two of you, interspersed only by the darkening sky overhead that sends much of the crowd out on the street looking for cover from the sudden storm clouds overhead. Neither you nor Neuvillette were concerned about it enough to move from your bench, though. 

“Do you think,” You venture at last. “If he’d made a different decision and his parents had been the ones to stand before you in court, would you have given them the same sentence?” 

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Worse, in fact. The number of laws they broke was substantially greater than his … two charges.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, turning everything over and choosing your next words carefully. “Do you think he’d kill someone again, monsieur Neuvillette?” 

So slowly it’s almost eerie, he turns to look at you there on the bench. “If the need ever arose, yes. I haven’t a doubt in my mind about that. Mister Wriothesley is a truly steadfast and resolute individual. Not once did he ask me for leniency nor did he try to excuse his actions. He was well aware that he’d committed not just one but two very serious crimes and he was fully prepared to accept whatever the punishment for that might be. But he is also a very kind and gracious person as well, mademoiselle. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. If he was anything other than the way I’ve just described I would not have fought so hard to make him the Duke of Meropide. I didn’t go to such lengths simply out of a sense of guilt or anything as sentimental as that.” 

Blinking owlishly, you turn to find him giving you a very soft, almost secretive little smile. 

“If you want my honest opinion on the matter,” He goes on in a gentle voice. “I believe that there is a difference between someone who is a murderer and a person who has killed. Mister Wriothesley would fit into the latter category, don’t you think? I’ve seen nothing to suggest he felt any joy in killing his parents. It was a grim task that he took upon himself, and he did so to protect his siblings as well as to stop any future children from becoming victims of the same scheme. If he hadn’t acted as he did, if he’d simply allowed them to dispose of him after learning the truth, then who can really say how many more innocent lives would have been destroyed in the interim since then? Incidentally, in regards to more present matters, I have reason to suspect that this is how he views you as well.”

You sit up a little straighter. “Me?” 

“Yes, mademoiselle. I do pray you don’t misunderstand my meaning in saying this, but there is in fact a certain kind of innocence in you that I can see as well. Had I not seen it I might not have been quite so willing to introduce you to Lady Furina. She’s the same way, you know. Her heart is often in the right place, but she … ah, I suppose that isn’t really relevant right now, is it? What I mean to say is just that you are very kind and passionate when it comes to the feelings and wellbeing of others. I think mister Wriothesley wants to protect that innocence, if you’ll allow him to.”

You have to try very hard not to start blushing at that. Goodness, you hadn’t expected to have this conversation turned right back around on you like this. “T - that’s all very sweet of you to say, your honor, but … do you really think it’s feasible? If I’m going to be with him — if we were to … wed then wouldn’t it stand to reason that I would spend a great deal of my time inside the fortress? If he’s so busy trying to protect me that he won’t even let me help him when there’s a problem then is there really even any point to it? Wouldn’t I just be like a bird in a cage then?” 

Thoughtfully, Neuvilette touches fingers to his chin in consideration. “I do see where your concerns lie. While I am certainly no expert on the topic, it is my understanding that such things are usually worked out and compromised between the two participating parties with the understanding that their love for one another makes such efforts worthwhile. If this is something that you want to reach an understanding with mister Wriothesley on then I suspect you will have to work together to rectify it.” 

A pause. 

“Do you love him?” 

“Yes.” You don’t even stop to think about it. 

Suddenly realizing what you’ve just said, however, you lurch forward with a strangled gasp. The quiet sound of Neuvillette chuckling beside you draws your attention around, and you just stare at him in dumbfounded silence. 

“You are precious, I will certainly give you that.” He says, trying to hide his lingering smile. “I understand what mister Wriothesley sees in you, and I think you now have your answer. If your feelings for him seem like they’re worth the trouble of finding a compromise then you should go to him. Based on how you’ve described the situation, I don’t doubt that he’s waiting for you.” 

You sit there, frozen for a long stretch, before decisively nodding your head. “I think you’re right. It’s worth a shot at least, isn’t it?” You start to get up but think better of it, quickly sitting back down again. “Wait. I have one more question, monsieur Neuvillette. You and lady Furina …” 

Slowly, his brows lift in vague surprise. “Is that really of any importance right now?” 

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. That was rude of me, your honor.” Jumping up to your feet, you shyly turn to look at him with a nervous little smile. “Thank you for having this discussion with me. I really appreciate it. You’re a good listener.” 

He offers you a polite smile back, hands lacing together atop his bent knee. “Thank you, mademoiselle. I do try. I’ve had a great many years of practice to hone the skill. And …”

“And?” 

“Please do not give much thought to your last question. I’m sure Lady Furina will be happy to divulge the details of our relationship in short order. The general idea of it, at least.” 

You don’t miss the edge of exasperation in his voice by a long shot, and you soon find yourself grinning from ear to ear. It was funny, wasn’t it? This outwardly serious yet soft man, and the quirky, dramatic girl seeing over all matters, big or small, in Fontaine together. They made for quite the pair in your eyes. 

Was this how you and Wriothesley looked to anyone looking in from the outside? 

You’re so caught up in this fluttering thought when you take your leave of Neuvillette that you almost don’t notice that the sky has cleared back up without dropping so much as a single bead of rain. 

You’re so focused on trying to figure out what you should say to Wriothesley, how to apologize for all the mean things you’d said in your anger and how to work this out with him that you barely even register making your way through the city. 

You’re already mentally penning your letter to him when you finally make it back to your flat and bring your head up to reach for the door — only to nearly jump right out of your skin when you find Wriothesley himself standing right there on your doorstep. 

“Your grace!” You gasp in barefaced shock, making his mouth pull in a lazy, almost tentative smirk as he turns to face you there on the step. 

“In the flesh. Hope you’re not too disappointed to see me.” 

“I’m not disappointed at all.” You rush to say, and it surprises both of you given the way his brows lift and your heart skips a beat. 

“Alright, I admit that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting … what are you up to?” 

“Nothing!” You huff, in the middle of digging around in your pocket for your key. “I just thought about it some more and I think I was unfair to you. I owe you an apology, your grace.” 

This time his brows take a very expeditious trip up to his hairline. “I’m sorry — do you want to run that by me again? I don’t think I quite heard you correctly.” 

Floundering under that uncharacteristically wary look from him, you self consciously look elsewhere as you fumble to get the key out. Damn him for never making anything easy on you by simply reacting the way any normal man would. “Do not be like that, you scoundrel! I’m being serious here! I just … I said some very unnecessary things to you the other day, in your office. I’m truly sorry about that and I don’t actually want to call things off between us. I promise. But I think we need to have a very serious discussion about our expectations going forward. Can we do that?” 

He intently studies you for a long, drawn out moment, standing there together on your stoop. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding the key this whole time, half poised to click into the door, until he reaches out and gently takes it from you. 

“Of course we can, little miss. We can talk about it as much as you’d like.” 

You’d expected to feel relief at that but, watching him get the front door unlocked and opened, you actually start to feel sick with nerves again. You were a little too strung out from spending almost three days cooped up inside your flat and agonizing over the situation. Abruptly, you realize that you aren’t even sure when you’d last ate something was. Had you thrown up anything of substance earlier, or just bile?

Wriothesley’s hand sliding across the small of your back makes you feel marginally better though, and you let him guide you into the apartment. He locks the door behind him as he always does, evidently not wholly trusting your neighborhood, and then steers you over to the loveseat against the far wall. 

“Do you want something to drink?” 

“No. Just sit with me.” You murmur, tugging him down to join you. 

The brush of his thigh against your leg brings you a certain amount of comfort too, you’re a bit surprised to find. You’d thought for sure you wouldn’t have been able to look at him ever again without feeling fear and revulsion after learning of his past, irreparably dooming your relationship forever, but that is not what happens. Instead you feel yourself warming to him and it does wonders to soften the tense, almost awkward atmosphere between the two of you. But, still, it’s a little hard to figure out what to say when you’d been expecting to have to write him first, or make the trip out to Meropide to see him. You’d expected to have the time to plan and script out what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it. This was so unexpectedly sudden that for a moment you just flounder. 

“Were you waiting long?” 

“No, only a few minutes. I was actually just starting to give serious consideration to the idea of kicking the door in though.” 

The soft note of humor in his voice makes you laugh even though you try very hard not to. “You are truly hopeless, your grace.” 

“Apologies for that.” He lightly, playfully nudges you with his leg. “I thought you were treating me like a boogeyman you needed to hide from, and I just couldn’t bear the thought. I was starting to get desperate. All jokes aside though, I’m glad you wanted to talk.” 

“Me too …” 

Decisively, you turn on the cushions to fully face him. 

“Let me say my peace first,” You reach across his lap to carefully take his hand, and he gladly turns the palm up to lace his fingers with yours. He doesn’t say anything though, giving you your chance to speak, so you force your lungs to expand on a shuddering breath. “I feel no ill will for you, Wriothesley. None at all. I understand why you do the things you do. It’s to protect me, isn’t it? The only way you’ve ever known how to protect anything.” 

He nods once, further bolstering your courage. 

“I appreciate it. All of it. Everything you’ve ever done for me. It means more than I could ever hope to put into words, and I’d like to someday be able to give you even a fraction of that same happiness back. But I need you to understand that — that I’m not helpless. I probably seem it from your perspective, but I’m not. I was much more rattled by what you did to him than I was about George actually grabbing me, and the other day I was so caught up worrying about what you were going to do that I didn’t even have a chance to be worried about myself. You were right that I shouldn’t have gotten that close to that fight when there was nothing at all I could have done other than get in the way but … you understand why I did it, don’t you?” 

Another nod. “I do, little miss, and I’m sorry for putting you in that kind of situation. In trying to protect you, it seems I just pushed you closer to the danger.” 

“Don’t apologize. I’m not upset with you for it. I just want us to … find a compromise.” 

Wriothesley quirks a brow at that. “Compromise? That doesn’t sound like you at all. You’re even more obstinate and stubborn than I am.”

“Do not tease me.” You warn, though it lacks any real bite. “I’m not sure how much this will mean to you right now, but I realize you’ve put up with a great deal of my nonsense this whole time so … I would like to put up with yours too. If you’ll let me. I’d like that very much.” 

The corners of his mouth slowly tug up in a soft, teasing little smirk. “Oho? And is that your way of confessing your feelings for me, pretty girl?” 

“I said don’t tease me!” 

Rumbling a soft laugh, he gives your hand a tight squeeze and lifts it to his mouth for a hard kiss pressed into the backs of your knuckles. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to tease you right this moment. But even if you can’t say it yet, that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Another kiss, one that lingers this time. “I love you, little miss. You’re very special to me even when you’re being difficult or throwing a fit over something, but especially when you get that tiny wrinkle between your brow. I find you irresistible and charming even on your worst days, and I wouldn’t trade your nonsense for the world. I love you, and that’s why I’ve tried to protect you so fiercely this whole time.”

“O - oh,” Quaking there on the couch, you shyly avert your gaze, not having expected such an — ardent proclamation from him. But Wriothesley only brings his unoccupied hand up to cup the side of your cheek, tipping your face up at him with a gentle nudge. 

“Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you as many times as it takes until you’re ready to accept it.” Bending close, he presses his lips to your nose. “I love you.” Your fluttering eyelashes. “I love you.” Your cheek. “I love you beyond all reason and logical sense, but I love you just the same. Thank you for still being willing to have me.” 

“You needn’t thank me for that …” 

“I do, precious girl. I love you, so I’m going to show you my gratitude for that.” Tipping his head slightly, Wriothesley finally finds your mouth and he kisses you for a long time until it feels like you’re sinking to the bottom of a peacefully still lake. You don’t exactly know what to think of it. All of it. But you decide that you don’t really need to think about it at all when he pulls back just enough to look at you with those pale sapphires in his eyes. “It might take me some getting used to, but I promise I’ll work on giving you more freedom when you’re in Meropide. I still don’t want you wandering around by yourself unaccompanied but I think I can let you off my apron strings for a little while.” 

He chuckles at the flash of annoyance across your face, giving your cheek a soft, affectionate pinch to make you squirm. 

“If you can promise not to worry so much about what I’m going to do,” He continues warmly. “And worry more about yourself, then I can promise to keep my fists in check. That doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen where I won’t need to use them again, but I do solemnly swear to not give you any reason to think the worst of me. For better or worse, you hold my leash. Your command is mine to obey.” 

You pin him with a wry look as you untangle your fingers from his and bring your hands up to curve over the strong ridge of his jaw, tugging him in closer. “My faithful guard dog?” 

“Until my dying breath.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Wriothesley leaves, and then he comes back later that night at your invitation to have dinner together. He’d mentioned that he wanted to make sure everything was still in order at the prison first and also grab an overnight bag for himself while he was at it, and you were very glad for the chance to get yourself situated in that time. You enjoyed a very long, very relaxing bath, ate something for the first time in who knows how many days, and even found the opportunity to take a much needed nap on your loveseat. By the time he returns, you’re feeling pleasantly refreshed and eager to spend the evening with him. You hadn’t even realized just how much you’d actually missed getting to see him and talk with him until after the storm clouds had passed, and you were eager to rekindle the intimacy you were now used to sharing. 

The two of you end up in your kitchen, cooking together for the first time, and it is decidedly nice to have to shuffle around each other in the cramped little space. He’s very soft and tender with you, as if making up for the time spent apart, while he quietly murmurs that not-so-dreaded-anymore ‘L’ word at every possible opportunity he gets. His hands brush yours often, and he occasionally grabs handfuls of your hips to pull you in against him. At one point those warm, lingering embraces even morph into a slow dance around your kitchen, and he gently sways you while the roast simmers in the oven. 

You’re sure it has to be impossible for anyone to feel any happier than you do in that moment. For as frustrating and headache inducing he could be, Wriothesley really was sweet. You wished you hadn’t said all those mean things to him in his office but he was willing to forgive it, and you were likewise willing to forgive him for the way he’d yelled at you. 

It almost seemed silly in retrospect, actually, but you’d gotten a little too used to his always calm demeanor, the deliberately careful way he handled you with intent and purpose. You’d almost forgotten what he was in that time, but you vowed not to let it happen again. If you really were to hold his leash then it wouldn’t stand to reason for you to worry so much about what he was going to do or what he might do. You just needed to trust him to do what was right by you, whatever that might be. 

You sit at the table and eat together, discussing what had gone on at the prison since you’d last been there a few days ago. Wriothesley assures you everything is going well, that the two instigators from before were very much still recovering and would soon be on the receiving end of a personal visit from the duke. He also takes the time to mention that Sigewinne sent her regards, and that she hoped to see you in the infirmary again soon. Thinking back on the last conversation you’d had with her before everything blew up past the point of recognition, you soon find fluster settling over you and of course Wriothesley doesn’t miss it. 

“Should I even ask what’s got you making that face?” He teases, sitting back in his chair with a glass decanter of whiskey clutched loosely in his hand. Just smiling over at you. Content and relaxed. He looked like a king on his throne. 

You weren’t much a fan of harder spirits and had only picked up the bottle for him when it started to look like he would be spending much more time at your flat, and you somewhat anxiously twiddle the stem of your wine glass for a distraction. “It’s nothing, really. Kind of silly, if i'm being honest.” 

“I think I might be in the mood for silly.” He murmurs, sending you a meaningful look. “Out with it, pretty girl. I’m all ears.” 

Unable to stop yourself, you fix him with a vaguely suspicious frown. Sigewinne hadn’t told him about all of that nonsense … had she? “The last time I was there, right before that mess with the inmates, she gave me something. Makeup.”

“Oh? That doesn’t seem so strange for her. Nothing to make you start squirming, anyway.” 

You watch Wriothesley lift the stout glass to his mouth, and he watches you back over the rim while he sips. It was like you were playing a game of chicken or something. But surely he didn’t know what she’d said about the makeup, otherwise he would have been teasing you for it. You almost start to think he’s fishing for something, but then it hits you. 

The subtle heat in his eyes had nothing at all to do with Sigewinne or the gift she’d given you. He was feeling a different kind of hunger that could be satiated with neither food nor drink, and certainly not makeup. 

A warm tendril curls in your lower belly, prompting you to shift in your seat and you smile at him now. He’d given you this power because he wanted you to have it. Had said so himself. It seemed like it would have been a waste to squander it, and you quickly decide you can play this game with him a little longer. 

“She gave me lipstick, your grace.” 

Lowering his glass, he tips his head to one side in thought. Obviously interested. Clearly curious. The scoundrel. 

“I see. That was very nice of her, wasn’t it? She very much enjoys giving gifts to those she likes, so I’m sure that won’t be the last one you receive.” One of his dark brows lifts as if to say ‘your turn, little miss” and you start to wonder how long you’ll be able to last when he looked so terribly ravishing like that. 

“Yes, I was very flattered. The last time she said she had something for me it was one of those awful milkshakes you warned me about, so it was a relief not to receive another. It’s a very pretty shade of lipstick but she did say some interesting things when she gave it to me, though.” 

“Hm? Like what?” 

Inching to the edge of your chair, you lean towards him slightly. “Miss Sigewinne informed me that you’re rather fond of the color red, your grace, and that was why she gave it to me. So that I might wear it for you.” 

The not so subtle look that flashes behind his eyes makes your pulse quicken. He really was bestial at times, most notably where you were concerned it seemed. To think that you could so easily rile him like this … 

“She gave you red lipstick?” He drawls. “That’s dangerous.” 

You blink at that. “Dangerous, your grace?” 

Inclining his chin in a pointed nod, Wriothesley stretches to set his near empty glass on the table. “Very. Because now I want to make a mess of it with my cock.” 

It feels like you’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning, and your back snaps straight with a powerful shudder. “That does sound dangerous …” You murmur, suddenly feeling ten degrees hotter than before, and he faintly hums as if in solemn agreement. Licking your lips, you decide to take the plunge. “The last time you were here when we … slept together, you said you had something in mind to help me. What was it?” 

“Are you interested in hearing all the sordid details, pretty girl?” 

“No,” You subtly shift at the thought. “I mean, I do. Yes. But mostly I’m just curious, is all. 

He takes a moment to consider you from across the table, and you just start to wonder if perhaps it was too soon after your biggest fight with the duke yet to expect that kind of intimacy when he draws a deliberate breath. “I brought everything I think I’ll need, if you’d like a demonstration.” 

Somehow your surprise manages to overshadow the pang of wanting you feel low in your gut. “You came prepared?” 

“Yes, but not in the way I can tell you’re thinking.” He chuckles quietly. “The day after the fundraiser and I returned to the fortress I made my preparations then. Everything was already packed and ready. I just needed to grab it. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring it along just in case. Actually, if you want the truth,” 

You sit up a little straighter at the shift in his tone, knowing he was about to say something important. 

“I thought perhaps I could leave this particular bag here so we would always have these items on hand whenever you were ready for them. Since it looked like we were making progress in the right direction, I was under the impression that we would be spending more nights together like that. And of course it has some toiletries and such for myself as well.” 

“I see,” Dropping his steady gaze, you reach up to fiddle with your fork. “I really am sorry, your grace. For blowing up on you like I did. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.” 

“Nonsense. You didn’t ruin anything, little miss. It was just a small hiccup, that’s all. As the saying goes, there’s no use in crying over spilt milk, is there?” Pausing, he studies you for another moment and when he next speaks it's in a softer, rumbling drawl full of suggestion and promise. “The decision is ultimately yours, as it always is, but if you want to give it a go I would be too happy to oblige you.” 

You could feel your cheeks starting to grow warm. “It’s not too soon? Or too sudden?” 

“I don’t believe it is. Just because we had an argument and you didn’t want to see me for a few days, that doesn’t mean I stopped wanting you in that time.” 

Well, when he put it like that … 

“May I ask what sort of — items they are?” 

“Hm. You’re free to ask, but I don’t think I’m going to tell you.” 

Finally bringing your attention back up, you look over at him with no shortage of suspicion. Wriothesley only smiles at you though, his mood amicable and even playful, but you don’t miss the growing heat in his eyes. Not by a country mile. 

“Do you remember that little lesson I gave you with my belt not long ago?” He laughs under his breath when you visibly shudder in your seat at the reminder. “Ooh, I thought you would. Don’t fret though, I have no plans of doing that again. Not tonight, at any rate. I just think the lesson is applicable here as well. When you can’t see what’s coming you’re much more … shall we say, persuadable? If I’d told you flat out I was going to spank your cute little bottom with my belt what do you think you would have done?” 

You turn that over for a brief moment, and you’re not particularly happy with the answer you come up with. “I would have flown off into hysterics …” 

“Good. Every time we play this game you gain a little more self awareness, precious girl. I hope you know how pleased I am with the progress you’ve made in terms of being honest with yourself as much as with others, but most importantly with me.” 

It’s difficult not to be at least a bit pleased to hear that, and you find yourself quickly regaining some of your confidence. “So your plan is simply to trick me into it?” 

“Something like that,” He relents with another low laugh. 

For better or worse you don’t even really need to think about it any further than that. Looking at him over the table, you know you not only want him in that moment but you also trusted him perhaps more than you’d ever thought it was possible to put your blind faith in another person. Even after he’d grabbed you in the heat of his bubbling emotions and raised his voice at you, you’d still wanted him this entire time. Not the fight afterward or even learning of his past had been enough to snuff out what you felt for him. Although it had taken speaking with monsieur Neuvillette for you to truly grasp the full extent of what you held for Wriothesley in your heart, it seemed so obvious to you now. 

As clear as any picture taken with the latest kamera model and as pleasing to the eye as a master painter's magnum opus, you could plainly see where this was headed. Not just tonight, but your future as a whole. It was resoundingly, unequivocally with Wriothesley, and you couldn’t so much as fathom the idea of giving any single part of yourself to anyone else the same way. He really was it, wasn’t he? The penultimate result of everything that had lead up to this point. 

“I think I’d like to give it a shot, your grace.” 

He doesn’t seem surprised, but he doesn’t gloat about it either. Just keeps looking at you with that same unwavering certainty that had slowly picked away at your defenses over time. “Are you sure? Even if you tell me ‘yes’ now, you can still change your mind later.” 

You nod. “I understand that, and I’m sure.” 

Regarding you for another moment longer, Wriothesley eventually draws a slow inhale that makes his broad shoulders rise. The air seems to shift, becoming anticipatory and static charged as he sedately nudges his chair back and rises to his feet. You watch him come around the table with an eager flutter in your chest, smiling up at him when he comes to stand over your chair. 

His hand lifts to tenderly cup the side of your face, and he simply looks at you for a long stretch. Like he was committing the sight of you before him to memory. Then, without a word, he bends at the waist to bring his face close to yours and you happily tip your mouth up to accept the kiss he places there. His lips move with yours in a slow, intoxicating dance that is so soft around the edges yet backed by hard steel and thrumming hunger that it soon robs you of the ability to breathe. It doesn’t take long to have you panting slightly, and when his hand eventually slides down to join the other in unbuttoning your blouse you start to feel a bit lightheaded. 

Swaying in your seat, you turn your head to break away from his searing kiss and suck in a lungful of fresh air while he nuzzles against you with a soft murmur of praise. When he tells you how much he’s missed you over the last few days, you tremble and whisper back that you missed him too. 

Kissing the side of your neck now, Wriothesley gets your shirt undone down to the waistband of your skirt and gently parts the fabric to expose the bra underneath. He seems largely content to leave you clothed for the time being though, and simply slips one of those big, coarse hands inside to fondle your chest. Coming alive for him, you push your breasts out to further offer them to the possessive squeeze of those blocky fingers as your own come up to clutch at his forearm. Musculature and sinew flex under your fingertips while he kneads the swell of flesh through your brassier, and you can’t help but whine when he pulls back some moments later. 

“So impatient, pretty girl.” He softly chides you as he sinks down to the floor where he greedily palms the meat of your thighs, spreading them wide so he can situate himself between them. You can’t quite find the presence of mind to be embarrassed about it though, and you lift your hand to card it through his dark hair. 

Tipping his head into the gesture for a brief, savory moment, Wriothesley then bends close to press his mouth to the center of your chest. A barely audible sigh escapes you as he takes his time kissing over the swell of your breasts and teasing the stiff nipples underneath the satiny soft cups before trailing lower. Realizing all at once what he was building up to, you close your fingers around the roots of his hair and give it a fitful little tug. 

“Y - your grace …” 

“I’ve been thinking about getting to do this again almost nonstop,” He confides in you, broad hands squeezing tight around your waist before dragging lower to inch your skirt up. “I’m not sure you even know how good it felt to finally put my mouth on you after all this time … it was hard not to give into the urge when I had this sweet pussy spread out on my lap or just inches away from my nose, especially when I knew you’d like it if you’d just give it a chance.” 

“You do seem to have a good sense for what I’ll like,” Reaching down with your unoccupied hand to grip the side of the chair when his fingers start to creep upward, you angle your hips in invitation for him tug your panties down. His gaze remains locked on yours, head tipped back to watch your reaction, and you’re sure he must be getting a good show. You were still a little embarrassed at having him do this, putting his mouth on such a place, but oh, how badly you wanted it. 

Sliding your underwear down and off, he tosses them aside without another thought before going up on his knees so he can shuffle somehow even closer. You’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t go straight for what’s between your legs, but the thought quickly drifts away when he cups your face in both hands and kisses you again. You cling to him while he leisurely claims your mouth, fisting the back of his black button up in a death grip when he eventually reaches down to pull at your bra. Tits soon spilling out over the top, you shudder and whine at the sensation of your nipples freely straining into the still air. He’s quick to oblige you, and a fresh tremor works through you when blunt thumbs carefully brush over the stiffened peaks. 

“Oh,” You gasp, pulling from his mouth to sway dizzily in your seat. The sharp pangs of pleasure that race through your nerve endings at just that brief contact has you wanting to squeeze your thighs together but you can’t do that with him kneeling between them. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Huh?” Following you, Wriothesley presses another kiss to the corner of your lips. “I’m glad you do, if I’m being honest. These feel so good in my hands.” Another kiss, one that lingers this time. “I think I could play with them all day, if you’d let me.” 

Moaning when he plucks at them, almost casually pinching and pulling with his fingers, you tip your face down to watch. The swell of your breasts seems much more pronounced where the rucked under bra is pushing them up slightly, and in the center of them your nipples look so tightly coiled it draws another low sound of wanting out of you. You tremble almost violently when, noticing where your attention is, Wriothesley adjusts his hands to gently flick over them. Up and down, up and down, and then side to side. The tips of your breasts positively ache with the sensation, and you soon find yourself squirming in your seat again. 

“I … I want your mouth on me, sir. Please.” 

“Ooh, good girl. You know how much I like it when you ask me for things.” Pausing just long enough to give your nipples one last, taunting tug that has you keening, he lowers his hands to knead your thighs instead. “Would you prefer to take it to the bedroom, or will you permit me to do it here?” 

You steal a surreptitious glance at the table, the mostly empty plates, the nearly drained glasses. It didn’t even matter. “Here is fine, your grace.” 

Rumbling a low sound of approval, he inches the hem of your skirt up a bit more until you feel the waft of cool air against your bare, thoroughly sticky cunt. “I still have every intention of making you sit on my face … but we can save it for later. There’s no rush, after all.” 

Whimpering softly as you watch him lean back and then curl those burly arms under your knees, reaching up to grasp your hips, you let him tug you to the very edge of the seat to leave your ass half hanging off. His hold on you is good though, and you don’t even give it a second thought while you run even hotter for him at the sight of your own pussy spread open like this. 

“W - were you going to make me do it if I’d chosen the bedroom?” 

The smirk that cuts across his roguish mouth assures you just how right you actually were. 

“Such a clever girl you are. I knew you’d start to figure out how this works.” Bending his face close, he places a firm kiss to the apex of your mound. “I hope you had a chance to get some rest earlier, by the way. I don’t think I’m going to be done with you until the morning sun comes up.” 

You suck in a slow, hissing breath, and plaintively tip your cunt up at him. Sending you a slow look from under the fall of his dark lashes, he gives you another kiss and drags his mouth a pinch lower. The next kiss is pressed right over your slit, making your clit tingle at the distant, featherlight sensation as Wriothesley nudges your thighs more securely over his shoulders, opening his mouth wide to kiss at you a little more deeply. The soft, wet warmth inspires a stiff shudder that makes your legs twitch in the air, a breathy moan slipping out of you a heartbeat later when he works your lips open enough to drag his tongue over petal-smooth creases and folds. You already felt sick with the thrumming tension low in your gut and he’d barely gotten started yet … 

Taking his time with it, just savoring the moment, he graces your clit with teasing kitten licks that just further ratchet up your need for something more substantial. It doesn’t last long though, each pass of his tongue steadily becoming firmer, more purposeful, until you practically jolt right off the chair when he finally drags the flat of it right over the sensitive pleasure button. Squeaking at the powerful tremor, you reach down to grab at his hair again and squeeze your thighs around his head. It’s too late for you to dissuade him though, his face already buried so deep in your cunt that you couldn’t have closed him out even if you’d wanted to. Arching against him, you let your eyes slip shut and just focus on the sensation. 

His mouth felt good sinking into the soft give of your cunt, so strong and unyielding, yet fleshy and pliant at the same time. The way he breathes in deep without pulling back sends a fresh rush to your quaking guts, as does the hot groan he puffs out against your slit a moment later. The tip of his tongue is soft and probing, while the broad flat of it is a little rough, and he seems to take a great deal of joy in torturing you with it centered directly over your clit. Everything is so warm and wet, and overwhelmingly mind numbing that you quickly lose yourself in it. 

Even when he nudges further down to swirl around your entrance and lap up the accumulated slick there, you soon realize you’re just as weak for this as you were with the more direct contact. Thinking back on what he’d said while instructing you how to pleasure him, it made sense. The whole area was sensitive — and you outright gasp as he presses his tongue inside you, just breaching your body. 

“Oh!” The sound punches out of you in surprise, thrumming muscles clamping down on the intrusion but it’s too soft and slippery to brace against. He just wriggles it around inside you, teasing the suggestion of true penetration, and you suddenly feel faint. 

Was this how his cock would feel inside you? 

“Aahhnn … oh, gods! That’s - -“

Growling faintly into your pussy, Wriothesley pulls his tongue back and then pushes it back in, slowly fucking into your hole like he had all the time in the world to do this at his own leisure. Maybe he did. He probably would have been happy to make the time if he didn’t, but it doesn’t take long for your squeezing cunt to start tingling with warning tremors. You couldn’t take it. 

“Please!” You whine, giving his hair a weak little tug. “Your mouth — oooh!” 

Heaving a deeply masculine sound, he drags his tongue out of you and then back up to your throbbing clit. He gives it a wet, smacking kiss that makes your toes curl, and then seals his lips around it to briefly suckle at you. Delirious and sweaty, you twist there in the chair and he responds with a muted shake of his head. Just like that last time that jostle against all the nerve endings catches you off guard and you start to tip as he directs his tongue to the epicenter of your body once again. 

“Oh! Oh, oh, Wri — aahhn! Wriothesley!” Somehow you manage to find purchase along his back and, digging your heel into his firm shoulder, you somewhat inelegantly jut your cunt up into his mouth. You chase that vibrating pinprick with a faltering moan, struggling just to get enough air in your lungs, and he lets out a stifling hot moan while you ride his face. 

Your distressed moaning quickly takes on a dire tinge like this, and your hips grind to a shuddering halt when you feel the pressure start to collapse in on itself. Helpfully, he uses his big hands where they’re still clutching your hips to nudge you up against him again, and again, and again, forcing you to keep humping his mouth even when your legs shake too hard for you to do it yourself. Release slams into you like a sack of bricks, so suddenly and so powerful it was like it had snuck up on you. You can’t help the shriek of delight you let out as you mindlessly writhe in the chair, gripping his hair so hard your knuckles scream in protest, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Same as last time, he continues to eat you out well past the point of comfort and he only stops once your shudders turn into sensitive twitching and you keen like some hurt little thing. Only then does he finally pull away, but not without one last kiss pressed into your cunt, and then he sits back to peer up at you. The noticeable glisten of moisture coating the lower half of his face nearly sends you into another fit of convulsions. 

“Oh, Wriothesley - -“

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’m right here.” Leaning into you and nearly folding you in half in the process when your knees were still hooked over his shoulders, he claims your mouth in another slow, possessive kiss. You moan very softly at the taste of yourself but still gladly accept his tongue when it slips out over your lips to coat your tastebuds in it. That you don’t even have the wherewithal to be ashamed for it anymore gives you a helium sense of liberation as you clutch him against you, kissing him back fervently. 

But of course he eventually pulls away, and you can’t help but sigh into the warm haze surrounding the two of you. For a long moment you just look at one another, and then his mouth pulls into one of those secretive little smiles he was always so fond of giving you. 

“Ready for the next round, pretty girl?” 

Unable to stop it, you smile too. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” Loosing a terse, anticipatory sigh, Wriothesley leans back to untangle himself from you. His arms immediately twine around your waist though, and you let out a soft squeak when he hauls you right up against him as he stands. 

Grabbing hold of his shoulders to steady yourself, you look down at him with widened eyes. You weren’t used to being quite so high off the ground, but he’s strong and sure underneath you, and he doesn’t seem to falter even a moment as he turns to make his way to the bedroom. 

“I think you’re really going to like what I have in store for you tonight. Are you going to be a brave girl for me?” 

“Don’t tease me …” 

He chuckles, nudging the door open and then kicking it shut behind him again. “Teasing you is all I’m going to be doing here in a minute.” 

You aren’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t give you a chance to overthink it. Depositing you onto the bed with a muted bounce, he turns to retrieve his bag from the corner. A nervous flutter comes to life in your gut and you start to reach up to close your shirt, or at least fix your bra, but decide better of it. You had a feeling you would soon be losing all your clothes anyway, so you just watch him come back to the bed where he sets the plain luggage on the corner of the mattress. 

Sending you a slow, knowing smirk when he sees your tits still out, Wriothesley opens the latch and digs around for a moment. You find yourself squirming in place, wondering what it is he’s going to pull out, but all you feel is a mild sense of surprise when he withdraws a silky strip of red fabric. It looked like it could have perhaps been a tie in another life. 

“That’s it?” You blurt, confusion coloring your voice. 

“There’s more. Just be patient for once.” Mirth dancing in the blue of his eyes, he sets the item down on top of the bag for a moment before reaching for you. His hands slide into place against your cheeks, and you breathe out a content sigh as he tips your face up at him. “My sweet girl … has anyone ever told you how positively insatiable you are?” 

“Only for you.” 

“Good answer.” Humming faintly, he drags his hands over your neck and then lower still to tug your shirt out of the waistband. “Alright, let’s get you undressed then. As much as I love to simply look at you, we don’t want the night to get away from us do we?” 

“Will you take off your clothes as well?” You ask, shrugging out of your top while he sets his sights on the latch of your skirt. 

“Eventually, yes. Remember what I just said about being patient?” 

Huffing, you lift your hips so he can relieve you of the last of your clothes, everything save the thigh highs you had on. You’re a little surprised when he leaves them and reaches for the length of silk, but somehow having just your legs still covered almost seems to highlight the rest of your nudity. It felt … stark, somehow, and you shiver when your nipples tightly picker in response. 

“Hold your hands up for me?” He prompts, bringing your attention back around. Blinking owlishly, you do just that and your heart stutters a beat when he starts to twine the strip of fabric around your wrists with sure, practiced motions. 

“S - sir?” 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to take this one step at a time. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to very much enjoy being restrained by the time we’re through but if you truly think you can’t handle it, just say the word. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen though.” 

You swallow. Hard. “What are you going to do?” 

“That is for me to know, and for you to find out.” Putting the finishing touches on the knot, Wriothesley slips a finger under the bindings to test the give. It doesn’t budge. “How does that feel, little miss?” 

“… secure.” 

He gives a small laugh. “Excellent. Now, where is that lipstick Sigewinne gave you?” 

Your head comes up in surprise, but then you remember what he’d said at the table. The powerful tremor that tears through you very nearly robs you of the ability to breathe. He was going to … he really planned to - -

“It’s on the desk.” 

Reaching up, he gives your cheek a brief pinch before turning to shuffle across the room and you just sit there in vibrating anticipation, trying to process where this was going. It was quite clear, of course, and you weren’t in suspense so much as you were … looking forward to it.  

You had rather liked putting your mouth all over him. 

His hand is suddenly under your chin, turning your face up to look at him. You give a faint startle, having been so lost in your whirlwind thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed him coming back, but he just smiles down at you. 

“Not getting distracted, are we?” 

“… n - no, sir.” 

He doesn’t look like he quite believes that, but he doesn’t press you any further. Drawing a patient breath, he retracts his hand in favor of uncapping the petite tube in the other and then bends close. “I’m no expert in such delicate matters but I promise I’ll give it my best effort. May I?” 

He wanted to put it on you himself? 

Slowly, you nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“Thank you, little miss.” Tone dropping in concentration, he fixes his attention on your lips and brings the applicator up. “You are much too kind to me.” 

You almost find yourself smiling but you quickly school your features. The last thing you wanted was to make him draw a hard red line across your face or, possibly worse, break the delicately formed lipstick column, and yet … despite what he’d said to the contrary, Wriothesley’s hand remains unexpectedly steady throughout the process. He’s very careful about the whole thing, not nearly as quick as you likely would have been, but you can tell he’s doing a good job staying within the outline of your lips. You never would have expected it to feel so nice having your lover apply makeup to your face like that and, although you likely wouldn’t have let him do it if you were going out into public, like this … like this it was oddly satisfying. Intimate, almost. 

“Well,” He finally says, straightening up to admire his handiwork. “It’s not perfect but I’d say I didn’t do too bad.” 

“I have nothing but the utmost faith in you, your grace.” Giggling when he decisively puts the cap back on and tosses it to land somewhere on the bed, you give him a bashful smile. “How do I look? Is it my color?” 

The flash of heat behind his eyes tells you your answer long before he draws a stilted breath that makes his shoulders lift. “It’s the perfect color for you. If I didn’t want to see it smeared all over my cock right now, I’d be kissing it right off you.” 

“Oh,” 

Letting out a strained chuckle, Wriothesley reaches for the front of his pants next. “Ready to tend to me, pretty girl?” 

Your arousal comes rushing right back into the forefront of your mind, and you jerk your head in a quick nod. “Yes, sir.” 

Buckle rattling, he pauses long enough to slide the length of leather out of the belt loops so he can toss it aside before setting upon the hidden latches and buttons. You start to bring your hands up to help him only to promptly remember that they were bound together at the wrist, and you can’t stop from pouting about it a little bit. The greater point of this exercise was clear. You wouldn’t be able to freely touch him like this, and he was probably counting on that to make you all the more desperate to do just that until you were just begging for it. 

You weren’t so sure that it wasn’t going to work. 

The thought dissipates like sugar in warm water, however, when he shoves his pants and underwear down to his thighs. Just as it had that night in your bathroom, his cock springs up between the two of you proud and straining hard. It gives a heavy bob when he shuffles closer so he can lift a hand to possessively palm the top of your head. That alone is enough to make your pussy flutter in eager excitement, but then you watch him grab around the base with the other and point it straight at you. 

“Open your mouth nice and big for me, pretty girl. There you go … gods, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about having your lips wrapped around me again” 

He grunts, very softly, as you eagerly sink down on him as far as you can comfortably take it. But rather than letting you stop there, Wriothesley gently nudges your head further and gives his hips a halfhearted push. 

“A little more, baby, come on. You’re so close to taking the whole thing for me. I want to see that pretty mouth stretched around the base … take it right to the back of your throat. I’ve got you, pretty girl.” 

Whimpering around the thick intrusion, you make a valiant effort to blink away the tears that spring up in your eyes when you reflexively gag. You try to suppress it though, and sink down even more until you feel the distant tickle of coarse hair on your nose. 

“Ooh, gods. That’s it. Now seal your mouth around it, nice and tight … nnghn, yes, how’s that cock taste, sweetheart? You like that?” 

You nod your head even as your eyes screw shut, fighting against your own body to stop it from heaving up your whole dinner. But he’s quick to pull back, the hand on your head holding you steady when you sway on the edge of the mattress and suck in a haggard gasp of air. 

“Good girl,” He breathes out, sounding mildly ruffled now as he manually directs your attention down at the heavy length bobbing between the two of you. “Such a good girl for me. Look at how much of me you just had stuffed in your mouth.” 

Groaning at the faint red band around him, you feel yourself slip a little further under the swimming daze blanketing your mind. You bring your hands up, in tandem now, and carefully cup them around the satiny weight of his balls, earning a low rumble of approval out of him. You almost hadn’t thought you’d be able to do it, but the proof of it was staring right back at you. It’s nearly as satisfying as the softly heated praise he showers you with. 

“I want you to take a good, long look at this, sweetheart.” Wriothesley murmurs, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the thickest part of him to cover the lipstick stain. “This is how much of me your cute pussy is going to take too. It’s going to stretch you out just the same way it just did to your mouth. Can you imagine it, how it’s going to feel?” 

You nod your head before you’ve even fully processed the question, shuddering so hard it makes your eyes vibrate in their sockets. 

“Good. Then I want you to keep thinking about it while I fuck your mouth instead.” 

A startled little sound of confusion bursts out of you, but he presses on the back of your head before you can form a coherent thought and you noise a muffled groan when his cock fills your mouth again. Holding you in place rather than guiding your head up and down, he instead flexes his hips to drive that rigid length back and forth over your tongue. His thrusts remain careful and controlled, sedate enough to give you a chance to breathe, but that does absolutely nothing to detract from the sympathetic flutter you feel deep inside your cunt. 

It’s almost horrifyingly easy to imagine it, in fact. The same sensation of all that smooth, velvety skin working in and out of your body, how seamless the glide would be, how warm he would feel lodged deep within your guts. You almost couldn’t believe how hot it actually makes you to think about it, like you were liable to combust and catch fire at any moment. If you’d had the ability to, you probably would have been begging him to take you right then and there. 

“I wish you could see how utterly ravishable you look right now, little miss. That lipstick really does make you look absolutely irresistible … and it looks even better smeared all over my cock. I almost want to cum all over your lips and paint them white.” 

At your groaning, half choked sound of question, he issues another low laugh. 

“That’s right, I’m going to hold out for that sweet pussy. This is just the warm up … but oh, what a warm up it is. I think you’re enjoying it too, aren’t you?” 

You screw your eyes shut and weakly push at his thigh with your bound hands, but he just readjusts his hold to better keep you in place. His palm was so big it almost seemed to dwarf your entire head, and you violently shudder at how small he made you feel. Everything from his hands down to his cock was just so large … 

Would your cunt really be able to take the whole thing? 

Gasping raggedly when Wriothesley finally pulls you off him some moments later, you rock back to cough and sputter. Undeniably grateful for the reprieve, you blearily look at the bobbing length between you only to mewl softly at the glistening thread of spittle still connecting him to your raw mouth. Your chin was coated in it too, but he just brings his hand down to swipe it away without another thought to the matter. 

“Feeling good so far, little miss?” 

At your breathless nod, he tenderly cups the side of your face for a moment before giving it a light pat. “Good girl. Let’s move on to the next part then, shall we?” 

Still wheezing and trying to catch your breath, you watch him reach over into the bag and pull out — another red strip of fabric? You didn’t understand. Was he going to tie your ankles next, or - - 

He shuffles right up to you then and you suddenly forget how to breathe with that spit coated cock straining out towards your chest, so close you could have easily taken it back into your mouth again. Before you can even think to do it though, he brings that second piece of cloth close to fix your attention on it instead. 

“I’m going to cover your eyes with this, if you’ll allow me to. You won’t be able to see or use your hands much, but you’ll still be able to talk. I’m not going to gag you or anything like that, pretty girl, so you can still change your mind later. Does that sound agreeable?” 

You hesitate just a moment, ever so slightly unnerved at the thought of having your sight taken away, but you trusted him. Implicitly. “Yes, sir.” 

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs, and that vaguely secretive smile is the last thing you see before he slips the strip over your eyes and reaches around to tie it off at the back of your head.

Your heart rate immediately picks up with a muted jolt, but you don’t feel any true panic. Just a bit of nerves. Some excitement mixed in with it. You were undeniably curious to find out what, exactly, he had planned for you, and the promise of his cock at the end certainly helped further sweeten the deal. 

“There. Don’t you look pretty.” You feel him bend close and press a kiss to the top of your head. “Lipstick smeared and blindfolded … almost makes me wish I had a kamera on hand.” 

Your chest hitches. “Your grace - -“ 

“Shh. I was only joking.” He soothes you, caressing broad knuckles down the side of your face. 

You aren’t so sure you appreciate the humorous tone in his voice, but you promptly forget all about it when he gently guides you back to lay out on the bed. Holding your bound hands over your stomach, you somewhat awkwardly brace for him to climb on top of you, to claim you, thinking that was his intention in keeping you unawares. Rather than that though, you feel the mattress beside you dip down slightly with his weight. Then, out of the blue, calloused fingers squeeze around the meat of your breast to make you jolt. 

“So jumpy,” Laughing under his breath, Wriothesley takes a moment to just knead the swell of your chest and give you a chance to relax into it before proceeding any further. “Do you recall what I told you the night before the fundraiser, little miss?” 

You frown slightly, too caught up in the way his fingertips sink into your skin to have much higher thought process left at your disposal. “I’m not sure … it feels like so much has happened since then. I don’t think I do.” 

“All the better then.” 

Opening your mouth, you start to question it, but all that comes out is a surprised squeak when he directs his fingers to your nipple. The delicate bud had started to grow soft in the warm fog surrounding you, but now it springs back up while he pinches and tweaks it, stiltedly plucking the dense cluster of nerves back to straining attention. You think, idly, that you should probably close your mouth instead of letting it hang open in such a brazen and unladylike manner but you can’t quite seem to accomplish that right now. Especially not when he switches to the other breast, taking your second nipple between his blocky thumb and forefinger, and you promptly loose another faltering sound of pleasure. 

Back and forth, just like that, he teases and plays with your tits until you’re squirming on top of the sheets and squeezing your thighs together in a blithe attempt to alleviate some of the building pressure there. He’s entirely relentless about it though, even when you weekly lift your hands as if to block or otherwise push him away he just reaches around to attack the other side. It felt a bit like being bullied … no, that was exactly what it felt like and you were ashamed to say it was driving you crazy! Never before had your teats felt so very stiff and sensitized, his rough fingertips providing the perfect amount of friction to leave your toes tightly curled. 

It was almost too much, in a way … but it also doesn’t escape your notice that you were technically free to pull away from him at any point. With him sitting beside you, you could have rolled over in the opposite direction to escape the torture of his hand but you don’t. The thought never even seriously crosses your mind. 

He’d been right to suspect you would like this. 

“You’re awfully cute, you know that?” He murmurs after long moments that feel like eons to your punchdrunk mind. You twitch at the sound of his voice, whining softly — but it quickly cuts off with a sharp gasp when his other suddenly joins the fray, and both of your nipples are being pinched and pulled, and rubbed, and your back almost violently bows from how hard you writhe. “Mmm, I still think you could cum just from having your chest played with, if it went on long enough … would you like to try it, sweet girl? Want me to see if I can make you break apart like this?”

He accompanies this question with a twist of his wrists, tweaking both nipples just so, and you very nearly levitate right up off the bed. “Ooohh, no, no, no, please, sir, no more! I — I don’t think I can take it …” 

“Hearing you say that just makes me want to keep going, you know.” 

Another tweak, to make you jolt and let out a half strangled sob. “Please, Wriothesley … n - no more …”

To your great relief, he does indeed pull away and your tits achingly throb in the aftermath, so raw and stiff it pulls a faltering little mewl out of you. “Alright, since you asked so nicely I suppose we can move on … think you’re ready for this, sweet girl?” 

Weakly twisting on the sheets, you blindly tip your face in the general direction his voice was coming from. It sounded like he was reaching into the bag again, or … perhaps removing his clothes? “I — I don’t even know what’s coming to say if I’m ready for it or not.” 

A faint chuckle from him tickles your ears, and it makes you sensitively shudder on top of the bed. “See why I’m doing it this way now? Pretty little masochists like you deserve to be surprised, and you don’t get the chance to let your mind get the better of you.” 

A sharp zap of static electricity races down your spine, pussy clenching uncomfortably tight as you fitfully squeeze your thighs together. “Is … is it going to hurt, sir?” 

Softly cooing at you, Wriothesley carefully places his hand across your stomach and rubs comforting circles over you for a moment. “Ooh, isn’t that a precious question for you to ask me? And in such a soft little voice too … you’re really testing my self control over here, you know that?” 

You bite down on your lip, not quite trusting yourself to speak anymore, and he gives you one final, affectionate pat before pulling away. The loss of his touch leaves you shuddering there on the bed but thankfully it doesn’t take long for him to come back. You’re a bit surprised when he nudges himself right up against your side and goosebumps promptly erupt over your skin at the sensation of his now bare thigh on your hip. He doesn’t completely straddle you though, slight uncertainty creeping in when he merely grabs your bound hands and then presses them up above your head to pin against the mattress. Letting out a tiny mewl of confusion, you weakly twist against his hold but it’s no use. You’re trapped. 

“Shall I give you a moment to struggle and realize you’re helpless like this,” He drawls in a tone laced with leather suggestion. “Or are you going to take my word for it?” 

You try to speak but nothing comes out. Swallowing your nerves hard enough it almost makes you gag, you have to force your tongue to formulate the words. “I believe you.” It’s little more than a mouse squeak but he hums in clear approval. 

“Good girl. Now, for this I want you to keep still for me, alright? You’re allowed to squeal or cry, or anything else you want, but you need to stay in one place. Do you understand me?” 

“Y -  … yes, sir.” 

Wriothesley shifts over top of you, whispering soft praise while he does it, and you just manage to make out a soft rattle of … metal? It sounded a bit like a dainty chain of some sort but, other than the ones on his usual outfit, you had no idea what it could be. Even trying to tip your head all the way back to peer under the blindfold doesn’t give you so much as a glimpse and you have to fight against the urge to click your tongue. A part of you almost wanted to tell him this wasn’t necessary anymore, that he had you so soaking wet and in need of friction on your leaking cunt that you would have done anything at all to get it but — before you can even think to say it, you feel him reach for your breast. 

You instinctively stiffen up, expecting pain, but you’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re bracing for. Would it be soft at first like when he’d spanked you with his belt or immediate and blistering like his hand usually was? 

The answer comes in the form of something — something hard and unrelenting, and cool to the touch — slowly coming down around your nipple. At first you’re only vaguely aware of it but it quickly ratchets up in intensity the more it closes down. Your mouth drops open as if to scream yet nothing comes out. You don’t even seem to remember how to breathe as you feel it gradually pinch the stiff teat tighter and tighter, and somehow even tighter until … at last, he pulls his hand back. But the crushing force around your nipple stays. It’s blindingly intense and your mind immediately blanks out with the onset of pain. Embarrassingly enough, you squeal. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Wriothesley murmurs, barely heard over the deafening pound in your ears. You shake so hard it makes the stinging tip of your breast hurt even worse, prompting you to twist against him in earnest now, but he all too easily keeps your hands pinned above your head. “It’s a lot all at once, isn’t it? Just give yourself a moment to process. There you go. Deep breaths … you’re being such a good girl for me tonight, wearing my pretty little toys on your pretty tits. Now I really do wish I had a kamera.” 

You suck in a sharp, seething breath. Toys? Suddenly that conversation in the fortress comes crashing back to you, and it makes you shudder at the memory of kneeling on the lounge in his office, naked from the waist down and getting your bottom spanked. The thought alone almost seems to send you over the edge, and you pitifully try to grind your obscenely drooling cunt down on the bed for even a modicum of relief. So this was one of those clamps he was telling you about, then. You think you might like to see it but … maybe you weren’t quite brave enough for that just yet. 

“Still with me, little miss?” 

“Oh — ooohhnn … Wriothesley, I - -“

“Do you think you need to tap out?” 

Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Finally you settle on a stilted shake of your head. 

“Alright. Don’t worry about trying to talk right now unless you need to tell me you want a break. I’m sure it’s probably pretty damn hard for you to even think right now, isn’t it?” 

You nod this time, whimpering softly at the note of humor in his voice. Of course you were well aware of his borderline sadistic tendencies, the perfect compliment to your own, evidently masochistic ones, but somehow you hadn’t expected him to enjoy it this much. 

No, maybe that wasn’t quite right. 

It was more like you hadn’t realized just how deep your own depravity ran, and so you’d underestimated his too. You hadn’t been able to even conceive of anything beyond the belt let alone whatever this was, even when he explained it to you, and you almost felt a little foolish in retrospect. Of course there was more beyond just spanking you and bossing you around that he would like. 

Pulled back into the moment by his rough worn palm smoothing over your ribcage, you force your lungs to expand on a painfully deep breath. He softly coos at you, encouraging you to keep taking slow inhales as his hand retreats from you again. You feel the clamp on your sore teat nudge slightly to accompany the quiet jangle of metal and you quickly put two and two together. There was a chain connecting the two pieces. But if he clamped both tits and then tugged on it then — 

“Ooh!” It blurts out of you in a sudden rush and he pauses somewhere above you, hovering for a moment. 

“If you can’t keep yourself still I’ll have to actually tie you down to the bed. Not that I don’t think you’d enjoy it, but I figured you would appreciate having more freedom of movement for this. Trust me when I say you don’t want me to catch you wrong, though. That’ll hurt way worse.” 

Wheezing, you force yourself to stop squirming even though it takes every ounce of self control you have, especially when you feel him reach for the other breast. Somehow the dulling pain in the first made the anticipation of the second so, so much more worse, and you clench your teeth as the pincers slowly start to come down on delicate skin. Same as before, he goes slow with it to give you enough time to adjust and brace against it, but that also makes it so you’re forced to feel each bit of pressure as it’s gradually applied in stunning high definition. Toes flexing tight enough to hurt, you wait until he pulls away and leaves the clamp stuck to your breast before writhing in place as sedately as you can manage. 

You felt truly wild with it but the constant, squeezing pinch on both nipples kept you somewhat grounded for fear of pulling on them and causing even more discomfort. The worst part of all, though, was the fact you’d never been wetter in all your life. Even taking into account at least some of the mess between your legs was lingering saliva from earlier, that still didn’t account for the sheer flood of arousal making your cunt feel sticky and almost obscenely juicy. 

Distantly, you realize that you really were on the verge of begging him just to stuff you full without any concern for your previous worries about being able to take him. You knew you could. You just knew it, beyond a shadow of a doubt now. 

“Aren't you the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen?” Wriothesley murmurs, pulling you just a bit more out of your reeling stupor when he smooths his big hand up your fluttering stomach. “I don’t even have to ask if you’re enjoying this. I can tell you are by the way you keep trying to grind that sweet pussy on the bed. It’s not working though, is it? Poor thing … you need some real attention between your legs now, don’t you?” 

You nod your head slowly, hissing faintly when his fingertips brush the chain and jostle the clamps just enough to make fresh stabs of hurt go through your tits. He coos at you and lightly, tauntingly, gives the metal link a purposeful nudge to make the attached pincers pull, and you really start to think you’re going to lose it. 

“P - please, sir, please … I’m — ooohhh, I’m begging!” 

“And what are you begging for, little miss? Can you tell me?” 

“I … I want …” Choking down a lungful of air, you tip your face down as if to look at yourself but of course it doesn’t work. You’d never felt quite so … powerless before, and it was overwhelmingly amazing. Potent in the worst possible way. “I want it — in my pussy, sir, please!” 

“Oho, that’s mighty crass coming from you, pretty girl. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever break you down enough to make you talk like that.” He chuckles softly at your mewling whimper, dragging his hand back down the length of your body. You go stock still, though, when he dips between your legs and, sure enough, you’re so thoroughly coated in slick that his fingers just wetly slide over your folds. “Is this where you want it? Come on, use your words for me.” 

“Y - yes, sir. I want it there. Please. I’m begging.”

“And you’re doing such a good job. But what do you want specifically? My fingers?” 

You shudder violently when his digits curl back to tease at your entrance, just flirting with the suggestion but not actually breaching you. “Ohh … no, no, not that, sir, please.” 

“Hm? Could it be you want my mouth on you again? Greedy girl. Do you want to sit on my face that badly?” 

Quietly seething, you shake your head. “Please, sir, I … I want — I want your cock, sir. I - in my pussy, please. I need it.” 

He breathes out a low, rumbling groan to that. “You need it? Well, then of course you’ll have it. Good girls who tell me what they want only have to ask once, you know.” 

You feel him lean over you then, getting close, and a tremulous smile pulls at your mouth seconds before he kisses you, slow and deliberate. Your chest heaves in excitement as much as at the steady thrill of pain coursing through your system, and you eagerly try to follow him when he pulls back a moment later. 

“I’m going to let go of your hands and I want you to carefully sit up, alright? Mind you don’t catch your pretty little chain on anything. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir …” 

Another brief kiss pressed to your mouth seals the deal, and then Wriothesley is sitting back to give you some small amount of space. You feel his presence right next to you though, and you find a great deal of comfort in that as you gingerly sit upright with the help of his steady hands. Gently he turns you towards him so he can half lift, half drag you into his lap. The motion jostles the clamps, making you mewl like something small and wounded, but he gets you settled against him quickly enough that the shuddering chain stills again. You have to remind yourself to keep breathing as he carefully nudges further back onto the bed until you seem to be situated somewhere in the middle. Then, you feel him lay out underneath you and you brace your hands against his firm stomach to help balance your weight. 

You were a little surprised though, if you were being honest. Quite surprised, in fact. 

“You won’t be on top, sir?” 

“Not this time, sweetness. I figured it would make you feel better about taking me if you could control the depth and the speed you want to go at. Oh, don’t make that face. Even blindfolded I can tell you’re thinking about calling me a big oaf again.” Laughing quietly, a bit thickly, he reaches up to squeeze your hips in both hands and then reaches further back to grab your ass. 

Swat! Swat! In quick succession, one cheek and then the other, to leave you swaying dizzily on his hips. You were almost too stunned to react. 

“Oooh …” 

“I believe you’re still due for a spanking anyway, and I can’t very well take care of your bottom if I’m on top, can I?” At your seething nod, he squeezes the swell of one cheek and gives it a solid jostle. “That’s what I thought. You love getting your ass spanked, don’t you lovely girl?” 

“Yes, sir, I … I do. But,” You lick your lips, gathering your courage. “Is this a punishment, or … maintenance?” 

“Hm, I was actually thinking this one would just be for pleasure. Why? Do you think you need one or the other?” 

You consider that for a long stretch, a very difficult task when your nipples were burning sore and aching every time the clamps so much as shifted with you. It felt amazing, but it was also making it nigh impossible to think straight. “Maintenance, sir. I think.” 

“Then that is what you will have.” Swat! To make you lurch and shiver on top of him. “Thank me for spanking your ass, pretty girl. Let me hear you.” 

Whining low in your throat, you arch and impotently grind your soaked cunt down on his stomach. “Nnghn, thank you, sir! Thank you! Can — can I have your cock now?” 

Growling so heavily it seems to bleed from him straight into you, Wriothesley’s fingers dig into your hips and scoot you down a little further until you feel the distinct brush of coarse pubic hair touch your inner thigh. Your throbbing cunt positively clenches as you gladly let him tip your pelvis forward until you're half laying on top of him, even when it makes the chain attached to your nipples pool across his skin. One hand drags up to clutch your waist, squeezing the love handles there, while the other reaches back to give you another hard swat across the ass cheek. 

“Eek! T - thank you, sir!” 

The next slap doesn’t come. Instead you feel the head of his cock nudge up against you from behind, guided by his hand, and you go ramrod stiff on top of him. Your mouth slowly drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out while he tauntingly draws himself over your folds, bumping your clit on occasion and mostly just teasing your drenched entrance. The muscle squeezes each time he gets close, trying to pull him in, but he seems content to take his time with it. Up and down, up and down — it was driving you mad, and you plaintively rear back in your desperation. 

“P - pleeeaase, I want it!” 

“Then take it, little miss. Help yourself.” 

His cock abruptly stills, pressed right against your squeezing hole, but it doesn’t push up. It doesn’t move. Just sits there, waiting, and you pitifully groan when you realize what he’s doing. With a weak little mewl, you clench your hands where they’re braced on his stomach and carefully, hesitantly start to ease back. Your heart slams a deafening beat in your ears, but all you can seem to focus on is the slow pressure of your body taking him in. It’s stilted and gradual in this position with you at the helm, and yet you’re so incredibly wet that there’s not much resistance to show for it. 

The glans is smooth and fleshy as it penetrates your cunt, sliding right into place within you. You’re immediately aware of how very warm he is, how smooth, and you suck in a thin breath to steady yourself before sinking further down. Inch by excruciating inch, he slips into the tight sleeve of your pussy and stretches you open around him in the process. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling full, and you have to pause to steady your nerves when it’s only a third of the way in. 

“God, you feel amazing,” Wriothesley practically gasps, his voice so thick and strained he sounds genuinely distressed in your cotton stuffed mind. The hand on your waist just squeezes tighter, clutching you like he was afraid you might disappear. “Go at your own pace, baby. Fuck yourself on me just like that and work your way up to it.” 

The dangling chain on your tits clatters softly and drags over his abdomen when you gingerly angle your hips up and then press them back down. Even for as subdued as the downward thrust is, it still has you moaning at how good he feels penetrating you. So you do it again, ever so slowly rocking your heaving body against the cock behind you until you find a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure how much of him you were actually taking yet, but you knew you already felt stuffed. He was thick and heavy, and the delicious glide of skin just makes you even hungrier for more. 

Mindless with your need, you pull him in a little deeper on the next slow motion plunge, and Wriothesley outright seethes underneath you. 

“Ohh, that’s it, sweetheart, just like that. You look so good stretching out that pretty pussy on my cock … and your tits — bless the seven, I knew you’d love my toys. Your nipples were made for this, weren’t they?” 

You start to nod your head, so focused on grinding your cunt over him that you aren’t really sure what you’re agreeing with. It doesn’t seem to really  matter though. Wriothesley lets go of your hip so he can reach up and give the chain a taunting tug but the pressure on your poor teats was so great that it makes you shriek as if he’d struck you full force. The discomfort is so sharp and blinding your hips falter, and you sink even further down on his length when you give a subconscious jerk. Your cunt suddenly feels ten times more full, a feat you hadn’t thought possible, and for a moment you just freeze on top of him. 

It was all you could do just to keep drawing air into your lungs. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. 

But, evidently, you had enough of him sheathed inside you that he could remove his hand now, and he reaches up to swat your ass again. “Do you even realize how much you’re squeezing me right now? And you just keep getting tighter every time I spank you or pull on your tits … who would have ever thought such a sweet girl could be this much of a masochist?” 

Chest heaving, you fitfully turn your head this way and that as if seeking him out through the blindfold. “Please, sir, oh gods above, please move!” 

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want to, trust me — shit, it’s taking everything I have not to slam myself balls deep in you right this second. But I want you to do this by yourself first. Can you do that for me?”

You whine and shake, legs trembling from the effort of holding your cunt in place when you wanted nothing more than to bury him inside you straight down to the hilt. He was so big that it was still overwhelming though, especially when your mind was positively drowning in the absolute rush of sensation assaulting you all at once. The warm handprints on your ass, the clamps on your tits, the soft silk binding your wrists together and the one around your eyes, the sheer presence of him sitting inside your body. 

Weakly, you sink down another inch and let out a frantic, keening sound of pleasure. 

“Oooh, good girl. You’re almost there. Just another push and you’ll be sitting on my cock.” 

It’s almost alarming to hear that there’s still more of him to take, but after having it shoved almost down your throat you had a pretty good grasp on his size. You could tell you were almost down to the widest part now just by the nearly obscene stretch of your cunt lips around him, and you take a moment just to grind yourself with the faltering motions of your hips. It didn’t hurt, nor was it uncomfortable, it was just — a lot to process all at once. A big hurdle. 

But just like every other time he’s pushed you right to the limit, Wriothesley remains a steady, comforting presence underneath you. His soft praise continues to rain over you even while he pinches the meat of your ass hard enough to make your toes curl, or he nudges the chain to rattle your nipple clamps. It really is too much and, feeling delirious with it, you finally relax your legs and allow your weight to sink you down the rest of the way until you’re at last firmly seated on his cock. 

You feel so horribly stretched out and full that you just sit there, twitching on top of him, while Wriothesley groans low in his throat. His hips shudder with the instinctive urge and masculine drive to thrust up, to lose himself in the tight wet warmth of your cunt, but he refrains. Even when it’s obviously taking every ounce of willpower he possesses, he still waits for you to get your bearings straight and suck in a haggard gasp. 

“Wriothesley, please …” 

“Shh. I’ve got you, pretty girl.” He sounds almost as flustered as you do now, and you groan very softly when he smooths those big palms over your ribs again. “You did so well. Are you ready for me to move?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Drawing a slow breath to steady himself, he drags his hands down to hold your hips instead. You feel him shift under you, jostling you slightly, and you think he must be adjusting his feet where they’re braced on the bed. That’s the last semi coherent thought you have, because he rolls his hips up in the next moment and the pressure inside you doubles, triples, leaves you choking on the blinding sensation of his cock pressing so deep you can practically taste it on the back of your tongue. All you can do is cry out in blissful agony as he gradually falls into a rhythm, just grinding up into your pulpy cunt for a long moment until you start to feel well and truly faint. 

Then, his own heaving groans increasing with it, Wriothesley starts to carefully thrust in and out of you, somewhat sedately at first but it quickly starts to pick up speed. The force of his flexing hips driving into you rocks you and, with it, so does the chain start to bounce and pull on your tits. Your already frantic sounds of pleasure soon take on a dire tinge, everything almost too much for you to process in that moment. You felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces. He was breaking you, splitting you straight down the middle, and - -

Swat! 

The sting of his hand across your ass immediately grounds you, startles you out of your own head, and you lurch on top of him. 

“Ooh! God! W - Wriothesley!” 

He grunts somewhere seemingly far below you, driving his cock through your squeezing passage a little harder. A little faster. “How’s it feel, pretty girl? Nnghhn … you like how that cock feels deep in your pussy?” 

“I love it!” 

Noising a rumbling sound of satisfaction, he slaps your bouncing ass again, and stars erupt across your eyes. “I knew you would. I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to make sure you’re well taken care of no matter what … oohhnn, yeah, squeeze me tighter, little miss. That’s it. Are you about to cum for me?” 

You jerk your head in a quick nod, unable to find your voice when it felt like the pressure inside you was starting to collapse in on itself. There was too much of it. Too much stimuli, too many different sensations. Pleasure and pain so horribly intermingled that you couldn’t even tell what was what anymore. Your nipples were screaming in agony, but it felt so good you could have sobbed. His cock was easily the most pleasure inducing of all, but the way it forces your clenching muscles open again and again, and again made it toe the line of discomfort. His hand - -

Swat! 

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

You’re completely blindsided when you do just that. 

Your pussy spasms on the drop of a coin, sending you into a wild fit of convulsions. You mindlessly shriek and dig your nails into his hard stomach, desperately trying to steady yourself before you can vibrate right off him. But the waves of crashing ecstasy just keep coming, over and over, rocking you straight to the marrow of your bones. Wriothesley hisses at the sensation of your body wildly trying to milk him but he keeps fucking you through it, persistent even now. All you can do is hold on for dear life, and quake so hard the bed rattles from the force. 

“Oh, fuck,” He pants when you finally start to come down from it some moments later, and the uncontrollable tremors working through your shuddering frame begin to ease up into sensitive twitching. His thrusts gradually slow as well to leave you wheezing on top of him, your cunt weakly palpitating around him where he remains wedged inside you. 

It was … by and far, the most amazing experience of your life, and you practically collapse into his arms when he reaches up to tug you close. You would have been perfectly content to snuggle up against his chest right then and there, but the clamps tug at your breasts to make you whine. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Come here, let’s get these off you.” As gentle as can be, Wriothesley gathers you close with one hand curled around your back while the other reaches for one of your tits. “Fair warning, this is going to hurt. I want you to breathe through it, okay?” 

At your bubbling nod, you feel him take the clamp in his fingers and — your mouth promptly drops open to scream when the metal pincers start to retract. All that comes out is a hurt, tiny little mewl of pain though, and he issues a faltering sigh when your pussy clenches around him tight. You can feel the skin sticking to the merciless contraption as he steadily pulls it loose, and you really do sob when all that’s left in the wake of it is a fiercely buzzing ache. 

He’s quick to soothe you though, carefully taking the abused bud between his fingers to lightly work out some of the hurt. It’s bad enough to make you seethe, but you can’t quite ignore the way your cunt positively throbs around him. You had no idea what it said about you as a person but you did indeed like it. 

Quite a lot, in fact. 

“Oh, little miss. Look at you. Your poor nipple really hurts, doesn’t it?” Laughing softly at your stilted nod, he leans up to press a quick kiss to your mouth. “I’d tell you I’m sorry for it but I can tell just how much you like it by the way you keep squeezing me …” 

“The other one.” You whimper, dreading it almost as much as you would be glad to have it off. 

It seemed like the reverse of having them put on, and now that you were anticipating the agony of the second it made it so incredibly tortuous. But he obliges you, reaching to the other side and … you can’t quite stop yourself from squealing this time, helplessly twisting against him. 

“There.” He huffs, tossing the clamps aside to hit the bed somewhere before bringing his hands up to fiddle with the knot behind your head. “I’m going to take this off as well but make sure you give your eyes a moment to adjust, alright?” 

You almost think it’s a little silly, for him to be taking care of you like this when he was still sitting hot and heavy, and rock hard inside you but you can’t quite find it in yourself to be upset about it right now. The red silk slips away, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the glare of the light.  Wriothesley takes the moment to kiss over your face, paying special attention to your eyelashes where they flutter against your cheeks, and you nearly find yourself drifting off from how very comfortable it is. Nice, and intimate. 

But you eventually crack your eyes open and peer up at him, struck by how darkly handsome and enticing he looks in that moment. All ruffled and coated in a fine sheen of sweat, the hunger you still see reflected in his eyes attesting to how badly he wanted to rut up into your pussy but … he doesn’t. Not yet. He just fixes you with that vaguely secretive smile and brushes some of the hair back from your face. 

“You look quite pleased,” He murmurs, clearly proud of himself and the mess he’s made of you. 

“Aren’t you going to finish?” You whisper as you pointedly rock back against his cock, making him suck in a deep, savory breath. 

“I planned on it, you little minx. I just wanted to check in on you first.” Bringing his hand down, he cups the side of your face and just studies you for a long moment. “Would you like to have your hands untied as well?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You smile to yourself as he works on getting the knot loose with practiced motions. He’d clearly done this before, many times if you had to take a guess, and suddenly your curiosity couldn’t wait any longer. “Where did you learn about all this stuff?” 

“Hm? I told you I got sent to prison.” 

“Yes, but,” You frown at that. “What does it have to do with this?” 

Wriothesley sends you a meaningful look as the tie comes loose, and he gently rubs over your wrists to smooth out any of the ache there. “Well, I was a teenager, for starters. All kinds of hormones and physical changes going on, and with the crowd that ends up in Meropide I’m sure you can imagine how easily I fell into certain … circles.” 

“Oh.” You blink at that, not sure if you should be horrified by that news or not, but he just laughs at the dawning look on your face. 

“It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about. I didn’t participate much at first. Mostly just watched and observed, and learned. It was all very interesting to me at the time, as I’m sure you can imagine, and it wasn’t until much later when I actually found someone to play with. Someone who liked to be in charge as much as she enjoyed getting pushed around, so I got the best of both worlds.” 

You sit up a little straighter, wide eyed gaze fixed on his face. “You let someone … do to you what you do to me?” 

Wrapping his arms around you now, Wriothesley gathers you close to his chest, looking at you from just a scant few inches away as he settles back against the bed and gets comfortable. “Yes, but I quickly found that I much preferred being in the dominant role. Unlike you, pretty girl, I don’t get very much out of receiving pain … but I certainly enjoy inflicting it.” 

Squirming when he pinches at your side, you give his thick arm a quick smack. “Stop that. This is a serious conversation!” An almost ironic thing to say when he was still pulsing inside you but, to your relief, he immediately sobers. “Is … is she still at the prison?” 

“No, her sentence ended long before I even became the duke of the fortress and she returned to the surface. And before you ask, I never tried to look for her. There wasn’t ever any reason to. She was just someone to kill time with. The thought of spending any meaningful time with her beyond venting our frustrations and pent up energy on each other didn't so much as cross my mind. Nothing like you. I’d scour every corner of this world without rest just to get you back if we were ever separated like that.” 

You can’t help but warm for him, and you happily accept the kiss he leans up to plant on your mouth. It’s a brief exchange though, just enough to have you signing in contentment against him, and then he’s pulling back. The shift in his expression doesn’t go unnoticed, and you’re not at all surprised when he drags those big calloused palms lower to squeeze your ass. 

“I think I still owe you a few more spankings … think you’re ready for the rest?” 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, sinking into the comforting warmth of his body as he slowly angles his hips back to drag his cock through your guts. The zap of friction has your toes curling again, but you knew you were well past the point of satiation and would not be finding a third release tonight. 

You’re not particularly bothered by that after everything he’d already given you though, so you just lay there across him, leisurely kissing him while he fucks up into you at a tortuously stilted pace. In and out, in and out, just rocking you gently until you think you might doze off and — 

Swat! 

“Oh!” You give a little jolt, delighting in the spreading warmth across your ass. The dull, aching throbs of your sore nipples and the vague thrum deep in your cunt. You were undoubtedly going to be sore tomorrow, but you didn’t really care. “Mm, thank you, sir.” 

“You’re very welcome, little miss.” He says softly, tipping his head back against the sheets to groan. “You really do have the sweetest pussy … you’re still gripping me so well even after two orgasms.” 

Swat! This time accompanied by a tight, squeezing pinch and a rough jostle. 

“Nnghn … thank you, sir.” 

It’s easy to get lost in it, that intimate, swimming daze floating around you while he fucks you and slaps your bottom red. He never quite picks up the same speed or intensity as he did earlier, and you soon realize that this was entirely for him now. Wriothesley was just enjoying the feel of you wrapped around him, clenching his cock, the soft, wet little clicks he pulls from between your legs as they echo off the walls. It was beyond intoxicating, and you quickly succumb to the hard sting of his hand, just as you always did. 

Swat! 

“Thank you, sir … oooh … Wriothesley - -“ You cut off with a sharp gasp when the next swing lands, jiggling the meat of your behind from the impact. 

“What is it, pretty girl? Don’t tell me you’re ready for round three?” He laughs, low and very close to being breathless. 

“No, it’s not that …” A hot, faltering groan slips out of you the next time his cock pushes inside you, and you weakly push up to brace your arms against his broad barrel chest so you can look at him. “I … I just wanted to say … I love you, too.” 

A flash of genuine surprise crosses his face, but it’s almost immediately overshadowed by the deep pleasure that settles into place just a second later. “Oh, fuck, baby, why did you say that right now?” 

Sensitively gasping, he wraps stiff arms around your body and practically flattens you against him. The rhythm of his thrusts turns messy, no longer smooth and certain, but a bit jerky and uneven now, as if his need to cum had ratcheted far beyond the point of him being able to temper it. He presses his mouth against the top of your head, his breathing turning ragged and quick while he just holds you like that, so thoroughly pinned against the front of him you couldn’t have pulled away even if you’d tried. 

You let out a mewling whine when you feel him shudder underneath you, his frame so tense and halting that it almost reignites your own arousal. You’re sure you know what’s coming, but it still surprises you slightly how much he huffs and puffs into your hair at the onset of his release. 

“Oooh, gods above … I’m going to cum, sweetheart. I’m going to cum deep inside that tight pussy, okay? Will you let me?” 

“Of course, Wriothesley.” You whimper softly, clutching at his tense shoulders. “You don’t have to ask. Cum in me as much as you want.” 

He outright seethes at that, hips bucking uncontrollably now. His cock pulses inside you and then twitches, pressing in against your upper wall hard enough to pull a moan out of you, and then it gives a muted little jerk. You can’t help but gasp at the hot, spreading sensation that immediately follows, your pussy fluttering around him as much as the pooling warmth that seems to bleed deep into you. He lets out a final, heaving grunt of deep, masculine pleasure, and then he stills, holding himself through the shuddering tail end of his release while he pumps everything he’s got into your waiting clutch. You sway on top of him, a bit blindsided by how … good it actually felt to have his seed coating your guts in a thick, goopy mess. 

You weren’t so sure about the clean up just yet but this you could certainly get used to. 

At length, Wriothesley finally goes slack under you with a rumbling sigh and his arms loosen enough for you to push yourself up to look at him again. He looks like he’s still recovering, blue eyes distant and almost dreamy, and yet he still manages to give you one of those lazy, secretive little smiles. 

“I think you’re probably going to regret that.” 

“Regret what?” 

“Giving me permission to cum inside you as much as I want.” Sighing, he carefully gathers you up again and rolls you over onto your side. You give a soft squeak when his softening cock slips free at the motion, but he’s snuggling up close to you before you can complain about needing to get a rag. In fact, you promptly forget all about it as he half curls his much bigger body around yours and gets comfortable, settling his face inches from yours on the sheets. “Putting my poor sense of humor aside … thank you, sweet girl. You’re much too kind to me and so much more than I could have ever hoped myself worthy of.” 

You can’t help but laugh as you bring your hand up to brush some of the hair back off his sweat dampened forehead. He looked surprisingly handsome like that, you were a bit surprised to find. Almost dashing. “Don’t say that … especially when I was just thinking the same thing of you. I know it’s been a rocky road but … but I really am glad I was able to meet you in this life, Wriothesley.”

“I am too.” He murmurs, leaning in to press his mouth to yours in a slow, savory kiss. You practically melt into him at the stilted press and pull of his mouth, carding your hand back through his hair, and you can’t help but softly whine when he retreats a moment later. “By the way, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you.” 

Your brows knit in confusion. “What kind of surprise?” 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” He chuckles, brushing another kiss over your lips. “We can go pick it up together tomorrow, if you’d like. I made the arrangements right after the fundraiser, but with everything going on I just didn’t get the chance to tell you.” 

There was no denying that you were a bit suspicious of it, but you find yourself smiling anyway. “Alright … do I at least get a hint?” 

“Not even a little one.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

One week later … 

“Oh my goodness, isn’t he just the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” Furina squeals and titters, cooing over the dozing bundle in your arms with so much enthusiasm that a few of the cafe staff members actually stop to glance over. You didn’t really mind it though. You’d had much the same reaction the first time you laid eyes on him, and sometimes you still did. It was exceedingly hard not to, if you were being honest. 

Even now when you turn your attention down to look at the furry little face blearily staring back at you, almost too tired to keep his eyes open, you feel a strangely intense flood of emotions rush through your chest. You aren’t quite sure what it is, exactly, but you know it’s something not unlike love. Tumultuous but calming at the same time. Peaceful, and yet frighteningly daunting. 

You think, idly, this might be how parents feel about their children. A love unconditional and so, so overwhelming it almost brings you to tears at least once a day. If you hadn’t been navigating this unexpected journey with Wriothesley right at your side you were certain you would have been a right and proper mess. 

“He’s a very good boy.” You tell her in full confidence. Even barring the occasional accident or behavioral correction, he’d been nothing but a sweet angel since you’d brought him home. “I was a bit worried he’d like Wriothesley more than me since he’s so … you know. Big and in charge of everything, but he actually sticks to me like glue. I can’t even use the bathroom without him sitting outside the door crying.” 

Furina looks like she just might start crying too. “That is so stinking cute! Oh, I really am jealous! What sort of dog is he?” 

You turn a little sheepish at that. “A mastiff.” 

Her eyes go so big and wide you’re a bit worried they’re going to pop right out of her head and roll across the table. 

“But that’s so — large! Aren’t you worried about him … I don’t know, pushing you around when he’s older?” 

Shaking your head, you reach down to fiddle with an oversized black paw. The puppy just lets you do it without even a huff of protest, his arm perfectly boneless and pliable under your fingers. “Wriothesley said these guys are big, giant babies but very protective. He told me if he ever wasn’t around and someone tried to mess with me, this little guy here would rip them apart … and I’m not so sure he was joking about that.” 

Furina shoots a cautious look at the lounging dog, but quickly recovers her usual bluster. “Well, I am very happy for the two of you and I will be sending you a gift basket in the coming days to celebrate this adorable addition to your family!” 

You falter at that, turning a wide eyed look on her. “Is that really necessary, Lady Furina? I don’t want to put you out or anything …” 

“Of course it is! Things like this deserve to be celebrated, don’t you think?” Reaching over, she softly tickles the pup’s exposed belly and he gives his leg a lazy kick in response, much to her giggling delight. “Ohh, I really can’t help but feel a bit envious though. I wonder how mad Neuvillette would be if I suddenly brought home a puppy …” 

Spotting your chance, you eagerly jump on it. “Speaking of, Lady Furina, I meant to ask you about that.” 

She jerks her attention up at you, cheeks coloring a charming shade of pink. “Wh — ask me about what, dear peach? S - surely you don’t suspect me of anything?” 

If you didn’t already, you certainly would have now. 

Grinning, you secretively bend your head close to hers. The puppy Wriothesley got for you grumbles faintly between the two of you, unaccustomed to not being the center of attention now, but you and the Hydro Archon are too busy whispering amongst yourselves to give in to his huffy demands right that moment. Soon, you and Furina are laughing together, squealing softly over something one or the other has said. It was nice, and it was comfortable. Warm in the mid afternoon sun sitting out on the cafe patio with her. 

And in the light, the ring Wriothesley put on your finger glitters blindingly for all to see. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The End

⭐

Crossposted: here

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Could you please write soldier boy kissing butcher’s sister while they were out in the woods looking for Mindstorm… 💞

Cat’s Out

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.0k

warnings: language, spoilers for the boys, references to a character’s suicide

pairing note: obviously butcher’s white, but i still wrote the reader non-descriptive - so she could be adopted, up to you <3

author’s note: i got a request!? literally screamed for joy when i got the notif, i’m not even kidding. thank you anon, thank you thank you thank you!!!

Walking for miles in creepy wilderness, surrounded by people hopped up on V was not your ideal afternoon.

“How much fucking farther?” You grumbled, mostly to Billy.

“This is why you should’ve taken the Temp V; Supe strength,” He replied.

“And risk dying a very painful death? No thanks,” You rolled your eyes.

That wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want to take it. You saw how it changed Billy. How he’d been snapping at you and Hughie, the smallest things setting him off. He’d never snap at you before. You were his baby sister! (Only a few years younger than him, but after Lenny he kept a much closer eye on you; clinging to you as if you were about to pull the trigger too.)

“Is it just me or does Soldier Boy seem a little…high,” Hughie said quietly.

“Y/n, go talk to him,” Billy shoved you forward a bit.

“What? Why me?” You asked.

“Cause you’re the only one he hasn’t been a complete asshole to.”

“Billy-”

“Don’t try to deny it! He complimented your scrambled eggs this morning!”

“Well, yeah…I make good eggs!”

“No, you don’t, they taste like shit! Now get over there and calm down the radioactive Supe who’s definitely high right now.”

“If he kills me I swear I’m gonna come back and haunt your ass!” You grumbled before walking ahead to where Soldier Boy was.

You weren’t actually angry about having to talk to him, you were fucking thrilled! You wanted an excuse to walk next to him, maybe run your hands over his suit to “calm him down.” And of course he complimented your cooking, he’d woken up naked next to you.

“Hey sweetheart, want a hit?” Soldier Boy smirked when you caught up to him.

“Uh, no thanks, Soldier Boy,” You shook your head a little.

“Already said you can call me Ben,” He replied.

“Right, sorry! I just- I wasn’t sure if you wanted Hughie and Billy to know your name.”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” He shrugged before taking another long hit of the joint he was working on.

“You feeling okay?” You asked.

“What’d you say?” He turned to look at Hughie and Butcher.

“What?” Hughie furrowed his brows.

“Nothin’ mate,” Butcher said. “No one said nothing.”

“Seriously, are you feeling alright?” You asked Ben quietly.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to fully face you. He cupped your cheek and kissed you deeply. Your eyes widened when you realized your brother definitely sees you kissing the (as he put it) very high radioactive Supe.

“Oi! What the fucking hell!” Butcher exclaimed and pushed Soldier Boy forward, causing the Supe to stumble to the ground. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Hey, calm down!” You said quickly, gripping Billy’s coat sleeve. He looked at you, his eyes bright orange.

“This hundred year old cunt just forced himself on you! And you want me to calm down!?”

“I kissed him first,” You replied, Butcher’s eyes widening while changing back to their regular state. “L-Last night.”

By this point, Soldier Boy had stood up and was furious at Butcher. He charged forward and tackled the temp-Supe to the ground.

“Oh come on!” You yelled.

The two men were fighting like stubborn children. They were both too strong to actually get hurt, but strong enough to shove each other around dramatically.

“Fuck you, Soldier Boy! Fuck you!” Butcher yelled as he punched Ben.

You pulled Butcher off of Ben and put yourself between the two.

“Stop acting like fucking morons!” You excalimed. The two men sighed, staring daggers at each other. “You're making me feel like a goddamn pick-me-girl here!”

“I have no clue what that means,” Butcher replied honestly. You rolled your eyes and looked at Ben, he shrugged, indicating he agreed with Butcher.

“Billy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about me and Ben, but honestly? It's none of your fucking business. And Ben...” You trailed off looking into his eyes. “Yeah, I got nothing. You were great last night and I hope my asshole-of-an-older-brother doesn't make you think twice before sleeping with me again.”

“Oh, I've thought about it way more than twice, sweetheart,” Ben smirked.

“You slept with him!?” Butcher exclaimed. “Come on, Y/n! Are you fuckin’ stupid!? He’s a fucking monster!”

“Hey!” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “I ain’t a fuckin’ monster!”

“Oh, so you didn’t kill a bunch of people these last few days? And you didn’t abuse your team so much they left you to fuckin’ rot!? And-”

“Billy!” You exclaimed. “Stop!” You looked at Ben and could tell Butcher’s words stung. You sighed and continued; “Look, there’s a weird-ass telepathic Supe somewhere in these god-forsaken woods and if we aren’t careful he’ll kill us all. Let’s all calm the fuck down, table this, and if we survive you two can kill each other later. Got it?”

Butcher rolled his eyes as Ben stormed off in the direction you had all been walking. Suddenly a make-shift bomb went off and sent the four of you flying different directions. When you came to your senses you realized Butcher was in trouble.

“Butcher, wake up!” Hughie exclaimed, tapping his face.

“No, no, no!” You mumbled, hurrying to your brother’s side. “Shit, shit, shit! Billy!” You joined Hughie in his attempt to wake up your brother. You then turned to Ben, “what- what do we do? How do we help him?”

“We don’t,” Soldier Boy replied. “He’s gone.”

“No! No, he’s just- how do we wake him up, Ben?”

“Well, Mindstorm put him into this, he can snap him out,” Ben shrugged a little, you let out a breath of relief. “But, he’s about to be dead.

“Wait, just hang on,” Hughie stood up, you stayed kneeling next to Butcher. “If we grab Mindstorm, we make him help Butcher! And then you can kill him! Then you can go to town on him, man. I don't give a fuck!”

“It ain’t worth the risk!” Ben exclaimed.

“Not worth the risk!?” You stood up. “Ben, he’s my brother! Please!” You looked into his bright green eyes with your teary ones. “Please, I- I can’t lose him.”

“Fine,” He sighed. “We find Mindstorm, make him help your brother, then I kill him.”

“Thank you,” You smiled a little.

[starlitmark]

Summary: You decided to surprise San at the office, and things get a bit… out of hand… Pairing: Dragon!San x fem bunny hybrid!reader Tropes: hybrid au, poly au (background) Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, pet names, reader has blue eyes due to being a bunny, magic usage Smut Warnings: kissing, oral (f receive), psuedo exhibitionism, possessiveness Word Count: 2,527 Note: Happy (very late) birthday, Topaz @sanjoongie! I hope you enjoy!!

Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires Masterlist

Before You Interact

“Where are you off to?” A rather nosy pink-eyed dragon asks.

“Well,” you start, “I know Sannie’s been stressed with this merger he’s working on… I was gonna go to the office to surprise him.”

Although you’re not particularly close with Wooyoung, he’s been nothing but welcoming and kind. That only shows more when he flashes a bright smile at you, his sharp fangs showing as he does so. The bar through his eyebrow glints in the kitchen lighting as his eyebrows scrunch slightly with the intensity of his smile.

“Well, I’m finishing up some lunch, and if you want, I can pack some up so you can take it to him. It’s nothing special, just a bulgogi bowl, but I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” the white-scaled dragon offers, “I can pack some rice and veggies for you, too. If you’d like that!”

You smile at him, ears perked up on top of your head. “I’d really like that, actually, thank you.”

Wooyoung nods at you and immediately starts preparing two boxes to transport the food in. As you wait, you look at the purple-haired man in more detail than normal. Not in any way other than to observe him. He practically lives in his dance studio, so to see him now, you know you should keep a visual log of him. A tattoo of lightning strikes stands out against the skin of his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his slightly too big long-sleeve shirt as he meticulously packs the food he offered earlier. You stay silent as he does so. The silence isn’t awkward, though. With some of the Thunder, you do feel a bit of tension. With Wooyoung, though, you’ve never felt uneasy. When he hands you a small bag with the containers, he offers you another smile with a giggle laced into it.

“Have fun on your adventures! I’ll tell your other boyfriends where you’re off to in case they ask.”

You shake your head, “Jongho is with a client, Yeosang is dead asleep after trying to pull an all-nighter, and Seonghwa is booked solid. I doubt any of them will be looking for me any time soon. I appreciate the offer, though. Bye, Woo!”

And with that, you’re out the door and heading toward San’s office. It’s much too far to walk, and although your boyfriends never let you drive, you can do so. The drive isn’t horrible… until you get into the heart of the city where San’s company is housed. Among the concrete jungle, his starkly black glass skyscraper stands out. The traffic around the area leaves much to be desired. Sitting in the same spot, not even 500 feet from the entrance to the parking garage below the building, for nearly ten minutes is a form of torture you’d never wish upon anyone. Once you get to the entrance of the garage, the security simply sees the car and then your face and lets you pass. With how often you’ve shown up (typically accompanying San), the most important staff members know who you are. 

While the ride up to San’s top-floor office is long, you find yourself more excited with each floor you pass. Your tail wiggles beneath the length of your cardigan as a way to expel some of that excited energy. A few of the chairmen say hello to you in passing once you do exit the elevator. It seems that San must’ve just gotten out of a meeting with a few of them based on how many you saw. Then, stopping outside his office in front of his secretary’s desk, you lean forward toward the deer hybrid. With one elbow on top of the ledge, you rest your chin on your palm.

“Hey, you.” You call playfully.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were coming today! If I had known-”

“Somin, calm down,” you giggle, “I didn’t tell you or San I was coming. I’m surprising him. Play along?”

The other prey hybrid nods and smiles softly. You watch as she presses a few buttons on the intercom before it starts ringing. After about three rings, you hear San pick up the other end of the line. You step past her desk and stand by the large dark cherry wood doors that lead to your purple-scaled boyfriend.

“Yes, Somin?” He asks. You can hear that he’s preoccupied with some paperwork just by his tone.

“You have someone here to see you.” The deer hybrid says calmly.

“Somin…” A warning tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine and settles between your legs, “I just started my lunch break. Why would you-”

You push open the door and walk right in. A bright smile radiated from your lips, and your tall white ears stood high with joy.

“If you don’t want home-cooked food from Wooyoung or to see your favorite bunny, just say so.” You tease.

San’s pending annoyance instantly simmers, and he whisks you up in his arms. His silver lip ring stands out against his plump, pink lips as they grow into a smile. You giggle as he lifts you up and hugs you tight against his body. Typically, he doesn’t show much physical affection while he’s in his office. Him picking you up and holding you tight against his muscular frame has your heart and stomach flooding with butterflies. You feel him take a few steps back into the office before nudging the door shut with his foot. He puts you down and takes the small bag with the food from you.

“You didn’t even let me say bye to Somin.” You say with a pout.

“You’ll see her on your way out.” San reminds you, “I want to take up as much time as I can with you.”

You make your way over to the black leather couch, plop down, and wait for San to join you to eat. Normally, he eats at his desk, drowning in papers as he eats. He makes an exception with you here and sits with you on the couch. Despite the office being very formal, the couch is framed by two tall bookshelves. There’s a mix of different genres. Of course, he has some boring books that pertain to his career. But fantasy, classical, mystery, and many more books are on the shelves. San sits down beside you and pulls out the containers before placing them side by side on the glass coffee table in front of you.

“How were your morning meetings?” You question once he starts opening the containers.

“Not bad… Mr. Kim tried to tell me how to run my company again.” He starts to grumble at the end.

“And you’ve never let him.” You remind him before taking a bite of your veggies and rice. “You do an amazing job, and we both know that.”

He nods, his slitted pupils dilating when he looks at you, “It was nice of Wooyoung to make you a veggie bowl.”

“Yeah, he actually stopped me on my way out and offered to send me with the food. I think he just made too much, honestly.” You giggle.

You and San float through conversation as you eat. At some point, you whined about your food getting a little too cold for your liking. San instantly takes the container from you and heats his hand just enough to warm your food back up. As your time together progresses, you end up practically on top of your silver-eyed boyfriend. You’re tucked under his arm, legs curled up on the couch while you finish the last few bites of your food. His typically neat button-up is slightly wrinkled, and a bit of your snow-white fur has found its way onto the black fabric.

“Treasure.” San sighs, placing both containers on the table after you finish eating.

“Hmm?” you hum back, looking up at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Come sit.” He tells you while patting his thigh.

You don’t waste a second. You move from being tucked under his arm to straddling his lap. His hands fall onto your hips, rubbing his thumb against your left one in small circular motions. You normally can’t smell your scent, but now, you smell yourself clearly and smell how sweet your scent has become. A smirk touches San’s lips. You see a small tendril of smoke escape his lip. The smoke curls around his lip ring before disappearing into the air.

“You smell so good right now, Treasure.” He practically growls, “It’s taking everything in me not to jump you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” You challenge.

A curl of smoke escapes the corner of your boyfriend’s lips, and his pupils sharpen; you can hardly see them. He’s trying so hard to maintain his composure, but you both know he’s weak to you. His large hands press harder into your hip bone, hoping to remain composed. He snaps when you whimper, and your nose starts twitching as a response to the predatory hybrid. You find yourself spun around and bent over the couch he had been seated on moments ago.

“I’m so happy you chose to wear this dress today, Treasure.” He practically growls as he kneels down, running the pad of his finger against your clothed folds, “You’re already soaked, and I’ve barely touched you.”

On a normal day, San makes you melt into a puddle. Something about doing this here in his office with the city below you makes you practically vibrate with excitement. You feel the heat of his lip ring against the back of your thigh. His kisses trail higher and higher until he’s pressing barely there kisses against your clothed heat. His lip ring burns hot through the fabric. Just when you think you may go insane from the thin barrier between your core and San’s lips, he tugs the material. A rip sounds through the office.

“You don’t need them here, Treasure. No one’s gonna see you like this but me.” he practically growls.

Before you can formulate any response, San’s tongue delves into you. The pink muscle is normally warm as is, but he seems to have heated it more. The hot feeling of his tongue deep inside you makes your thighs twitch. Your head falls forward against the back of the couch; your ears flop forward in front of your face along the leather.

“Sannie,” you whine, grinding back on his tongue more.

“Hmm?” San responds, and the vibration of his voice sends tendrils of pleasure through your body.

You can’t even think of what you wanted to say to him mere seconds ago. Instead, you grind back against his face more. Your silver-eyed boyfriend has other plans, though. You swear you can feel him smirk before letting a hand trail along your thigh. His nails scrape against your skin just enough to leave thin red marks in their wake. The fingers trail around between your thighs just in front of his face and start gently grazing across your clit. Just enough for you to be aware of the stimulation but not enough to give you any release.

“Do you want something, Treasure?” He mumbles before continuing to lap at your folds.

“Sannie,” you whimper, “want- fuck- want-” You cut yourself off with a moan.

You try to push back against him again, only to have his other hand grip your tail. You let out a loud moan and tremble at the contact. Your orgasm comes out of left field, and you crumble against the couch as your boyfriend helps you ride out your high. The moment you come back down, you find yourself limp over the back of the couch. Your thighs are still trembling, and your snowy ears twitch slightly.

“Treasure.” San calls with authority in his tone, “You didn’t answer my question, I’m afraid-”

His words get cut off by the sound of his desk phone ringing. You hear a huff before he strides over. Rolling so you lay against the cool leather. San clearly is hard inside his dress pants but focuses on getting to the incessant ringing phone. He throws himself back in his large office chair and presses the button to allow the call to be on speaker.

“M-Mr. Choi,” It’s Somin, “The officials from-”

The sound is cut off from your ears when San picks up the phone and brings it to his ear. You glance at the scraps of your panties on the floor and kick them under the couch before quietly walking up to your boyfriend. His eyes follow you as he listens to his secretary.

“You mean to tell me that they’re an hour early? They aren’t supposed to be here until 3pm.”

You don’t hear Somin’s response, but San’s silver eyes dart to the clock on the wall. It is 3pm. Your pale blue eyes meet San’s silver ones before you step closer. You push his shoulder just enough to move his chair back. The chord of the phone stretches just a bit but not enough to strain it.

“What are you doing?” The purple dragon mouths to you.

You hold a finger up to your lip. You kneel down and shimmy your way under his desk. His pupils are thinly slit again. Seeing the shift from how dilated they were moments ago sends shivers up your spine. His eyes stay trained on you as you run your hands over his strong thighs. Another curl of smoke escapes his lips. He’s trying so hard to hold back.

“H-huh? Yes, Somin, I heard you. Yes, yes-”

San takes a sharp breath when your hand runs over his clothed member. You can feel the small hard bubbles that run up his member. Your mouth waters like a Pavlovian response to it.

“They’re downstairs, you said?” San asks, trying to maintain his composure. “Yeah, send them up.” he tells her, a fire burning in his eyes as he watches you. “She’ll be leaving shortly, it’s okay.”

You give him big, innocent eyes, and ears back against your hair as you start to play with his belt buckle. He leans forward and places the phone back on the stand. A small flicker of flames is visible as he pulls his hand back from the device. He gives you a burning stare, his pupils practically swallowed by the metallic silver swirling in his irises.

“Behave yourself.” He bites, “If you can behave while I have this meeting, you’ll be forgiven from enduring that punishment I was about to dole out.”

You nod, “Can’t I have a bit of fun, though?” You bat your eyelashes at him, hoping to sway his choice.

“After they’re seated.” He caves, “And you’ll take whatever I give you. No funny business, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” You respond with a slightly teasing giggle to your tone.

A growl, followed by a tendril of smoke from his nostril, escapes him. He looks as though he’s about to correct your rather sudden bratty behavior before a knock sounds on the dark cherry wood door. He doesn’t say a word to you, but his eyes speak for him. ‘Behave yourself and stay quiet, or you’ll pay the price.’

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @monsterfvckersunited @kwritersworld @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxy

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Soft Marc

That’s it that’s the request

S O F T M A R C ! Thank you so much for the ask! Ilysm!

(Thank you for an excuse to write some soft Marc! Also, oh no this turned into porn, I’m so sorry.)

Feels Nice

Marc Spector X F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: typos (I feel like I wrote this one in a haze, I'm so sorry), swearing, Marc saying 'please', Marc being sleepy, oral sex (f receiving), P in V sex, dry humping (humping the settee)

Word Count: 1757

_______________________________________

You shifted your legs slightly as the movie ended, trying to wiggle enough to grab the remote without disrupting Marc. 

He was dead asleep, breathing softly. His head resting comfortably against your shoulder. It was the first time you’d ever seen him resting so soundly. 

You shuffled again, your movements bolder this time in a vain effort to reach the remote. 

It was the first time in ages that you’d actually watched a film on live TV, and you knew it would be only a matter of seconds before an advert that was five hundred decibels louder than an aeroplane taking off started. 

It was nearly in your reach, nearly close enough for you to grasp and-

“COMING UP NEXT!”

Marc jolted awake, springing into a sitting position. His right arm flew to the side and across your body, it made you think of a driver protecting a passenger when they had to break suddenly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” it was difficult to keep the smile out of your voice. “It’s just the TV.” You rubbed his back, trying to ease the tense muscles. 

Marc swallowed and looked around to you. He nodded once, still half asleep. A large tuff of his hair was sticking upwards from where he had rested.  

Quickly you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. A vague silence filled the flat, punctuated by the faint buzzing of the fish tank and other electronics. 

You grinned at him, dipping your head to the side as you reached out and patted his hair, trying to smooth it back down. 

Marc hummed and closed his eyes leaning into your touch. “Feels nice.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He looked so serene, angelic in the weak light. 

Slowly, you sank your fingers further into his hair and applied a light, but firm, pressure to his scalp. 

He groaned, pushing further into your touch. The persistent force of his movement forced you further back into the settee. 

You giggled as he urged you further, guiding you to laying down on your back with him between your legs. He tried to keep most of his weight off you, caging you in with his arms, but you could feel him steadily slipping as you continued to massage his head. 

Small moans and shudders escaped his lips until he was completely in your lap, his head resting against your chest and left arm hanging limply off the side. 

“I fell asleep didn’t I?” He mumbled into your top.

You grinned, continuing the massage, “You did.”

“Was I snoring?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Steven says I snore.” He spoke into your stomach, unintentionally shifting forwards into your touch. 

“You were sort of,” you pause for a second, thinking, before you do your best to mimic his soft breathing from before.

“That’s snoring.” 

“No, snoring is this:” you do your very best over the top impression. 

Marc laughs. “Okay.”

You continue in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling and not thinking about anything in particular. 

There is even a moment you think that maybe Marc has fallen back to sleep. His breathing is heavier than it was before, but you slowly begin to notice a slight rocking motion. 

It’s almost ignorable at first, subtle enough for you to think that you are imagining it. But as you continue to massage Marc’s scalp the movements become more and more prominent. 

You wait, counting the seconds in your head. 

His breath hitches as he tries to bite back a moan.

“Marc?” You ask, faking an impressive level of innocence, and slow your hand movements.

He lifts his head a few centimetres from you. “Please don’t stop.” His voice is low and needy, his eyes lidded. 

You push his face up a little more so that you can get a better look at him as you scrap your fingers along his skin. The sensation sparks like lightning down to his stomach.

He can’t help it as his hips rock against the settee, the inner seam of his sweatpants rubbing against his hard cock. 

He groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he bites hard on his bottom lip and closes his eyes. 

The sight of him is glorious as he is wrapped up in the sensations of his own pleasure. You can’t help but run your fingers over his scalp again, firmer this time and his answering moan is instantaneous. 

WIthout really thinking you shift slightly, bringing your legs up to wrap around him and lightly dig your heels into his plump ass. You apply a little pressure in time with his thrusts, encouraging him to rut harder.

“Baby,” he chokes back a little half sob as heat flares along his skin, pleasure coiling tightly in his lower abdomen. 

Oh this is all going too fast. If he doesn’t get a grip on himself soon he’s going to come in his (Steven’s) sweat pants.

He moves quickly, trying to not completely lose himself and give into the sweet sensations, and sits up a little.

You go to take your hands away from his head, and move your legs. Already starting to form an apology on your tongue, believing that you stepped over a boundary. 

“No, no, no,” he mutters quickly, grabbing hold of your hands and pressing them firmly against his hair. “Continue, continue please.” His voice cracks with ache and want, his eyes half lidded and pupils blown wide. His skin is so warm, burning as if he had drunk just a little too much. 

You nod quickly, in awe of how wrecked he looks.

Marc shifted his hands down to your waistband. “Wanna make you feel good please?” 

How can you relist when he asks you so nicely? 

You nod again, barely finishing the movement before he is ripping your trousers and underwear off you and throwing them somewhere to the side. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t send them flying into the TV and knocking it over. 

Throughout you try your best to continue the massage, rubbing your thumbs and fingers along his skin in a now ingrained pattern you know he likes. 

Marc lifts both of your thighs over his shoulders and settles down, causing you to have to curl up a little to keep your hands in his hair. 

He puts his right hand just underneath your lower back, positioning it ever so slightly so that your hips cant upwards, and wraps his left around your leg so that he can rub your clit. 

You let out a small shaky sigh as he touches you, so light and barely there. 

“Fuck.” His hisses, his hot breath hitting your outer thighs as he leans into you. “Ugh, you’re so wet.” 

He runs his nose up and down through your folds, groaning as your slick coats his skin. 

“Marc-” You cut yourself off with a string of expletives as he lightly grazes your clit with his teeth before plunging his tongue into your cunt. 

You pull tightly on his hair, the action involuntary and Marc lets out a beautiful high pinched wine as he grinds himself harder against the settee. 

His cock is throbbing, burning for attention as he laps at you, rocking you back and forward with his right hand as he encourages you to fuck his face in time with the rock of his hips. 

You’re achingly close already, pleasure sparking up and flooding your veins under his skilled actions. He continues to roll your clit between his left thumb and forefinger, pinching ever so slightly at seemingly random intervals.

You let out a gasped yelp, struggling to think, so overwhelmed with sensations and the need to continue to rub your hands through his hair. 

“Marc, fuck, shit,” you can feel it building quickly, a crescendo threatening to pull you down with it. 

Marc groans into you in response, fucking his tongue harder against you as he picks up the pace of his hips. 

Your legs begin to shake, your stomach muscles clenching. Just a little more and-

He pulls away quickly, kneeling with your wetness shining all over the bottom of his face. He grabs his cock, barely pulling his sweatpants down. 

“Can-I?” His words are so rushed that they come out all together. 

“Yes, yes, pleas-”

You cry out as he surges forward and pushes into you in one swift movement. His left hand guiding the base of his cock and then pushing your leg to the side, spreading you wide so that it’s half dangling off the settee. 

You grab at his biceps, screwing up your eyes as he fills you so perfectly. 

He lets out a long moan, his eyebrows pinched together as he feels you squeeze down on him. 

“Hands, hands,” he mutters, so mumbled and slurred that it takes your brain a second to catch up. “Please, baby, please.” He moans again as you rock against him, his own hips still. 

You sink your fingers back into his hair, whimpering as you buck again. 

“Stay still for me, just for a second, just for a second…”

You wine, but do what he asks. Your orgasm is so close, you taste it. Feel the edges of it running along your skin. 

“Marc, please.”

He opens his eyes and nods. But he still doesn’t move his hips. Instead he reaches down and circles your clit with his fingers, rubbing soft small circles that match the speed and pressure of your own hands in his hair. 

You gasp and change direction and so does he. You scrap your nails against his skin and he lightly pinches. 

He can’t help but rock ever so slightly, barely moving out of you, needing to feel every single flutter against the length of his cock. 

“Need to feel you squeeze me, need you to- shit,” he gasps as you come, your orgasm hitting you like a surge of electricity. 

You moan out his name. Your back aching and grabbing hold of fistfuls of his hair, dragging him on top of you. 

He sobs as you pulse around him, milking him for everything he could give as he comes, following you down into that mind shattering ecstasy as you pull on his hair. 

Sweat begins to cool on your skin as you come back to yourself, breathing heavily. It’s only then that you realise both of you are still mostly dressed, and that you still have a death grip on Marc’s hair.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You release him quickly. But he just murmurs sleepily into your neck. 

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[writeyouin]

Hello, for holiday fics, can i request MTMTE Bots X Reader Headcanons where its Christmas time and there's a gift exchange? Thank you!

MTMTE Bots X Reader - Gift Exchange

A/N - A-All of them?! There's… That's a lot of bots. Imma just pick a few, then if anyone wants more you can just ask me for them.

Warnings - None

Rating - T

Swerve

Swerve is far too nervous for this.

It's your first Christmas aboard the ship, and he is determined to confess his love for you. Like, he has spent every last second planning this for months.

Now that it's time though, he thinks he might purge his tanks.

What if you don't like his gift? Worse, what if you reject him? He knows you won't be mean about it, but... he doesn't want to spend his life without you. He really loves you, and nothing terrifies him more than his own feelings.

Still, here is the moment. You've given him your gift.

It was a crocheted blanket, so he'll be comfy on movie nights. When did you have time to make this? Oh wow. He presses the material to his face. It's so soft, and if he takes in some air, it smells like you. Of course it does... You've clearly spent ages making it.

Swerve hugs you and he holds on for a few seconds too long. You laugh amiably, and make a joke about being Christmas crushed.

Finally, he lets you go and bashfully presents you with his gift. It isn't wrapped very well. It must have been difficult for him, since it's relatively small. You can see where the tape has come up a few times, stripping the paper of some of its colour. All this just makes you smile more.

You tear open the gift, and it's a datapad, specially made to be human-sized. You flick on the screen and find that it's filled with music, in a specially arranged playlist.

Admittedly, Swerve doesn't know a whole lot about Earth music. He's more into TV and movies, but he knows how much you love music, so he really tried with this.

Moreover, the first word of each song creates a message, and it is a long message. It's a confession. You might have missed it, had the first word of each song not been highlighted.

You take a while to read what's written. Meanwhile, Swerve is stuck in limbo, feeling entirely sick. Part of him wants to snatch the datapad back and laugh it off like it was all a mistake or a stupid joke. Instead, he waits, trying to stop his servos from shaking by resting them on his thighs.

When you've finished reading his confession, you let your thumb glide over the first song, hitting play.

You smile, get to your feet, and approach Swerve.

"I love it," You say quietly.

Then, you kiss him.

At first, Swerve is completely taken aback. Then, his hands find their way around your back and he's holding you close, your first kiss to Nat King Cole's 'The Very Thought of You.'

Rung

Rung didn't actually want gifts. The only thing he asked for was an evening alone with you.

Normally, he's so busy with his patients, and everyone always wants time with the ship's only human, usually so they can ask you questions and place bets on what the answer will be - Rodimus is still pissed that he lost 100 shanix when you were asked what a colander was (Sufficed to say, his answer wasn't kitchen utensil for draining water).

So, that's exactly how you spend Christmas Eve with Rung. You're sat in his lap, laid back on the sofa while he reads to you from a book you chose.

His fingers gently glide over your head - You feel safe with Rung - loved - and you know that he feels the same when he's with you.

Despite that, you did get him a gift, and little do you know, he's got you one too. They will both wait for tomorrow however, as you relax into one another, with no obligation to anyone else.

The next day, you wake up atop the berth, and realise that you must have fallen asleep when Rung was reading and that he has carried you to bed.

Yet, he isn't there with you. You're just getting up when you hear him humming. Your shared hab-suite isn't like the others on the ship - it's the only one wherein the rooms are separate as if to recreate a normal Earth apartment.

So, upon getting up to explore, you find Rung in the kitchen - He's never been in here before, except when he's looking for you.

This is his gift and his surprise. He knows how much time you always put into cooking, and unfortunately, there's nobody else who could ever cook for you, which he has been led to believe is a normal part of human relationships and something most humans are grateful for.

It took a while to research the recipes, and even more time to find out what ingredients could be substituted. Moreover, Rung has spent months practising this, between meetings, and now, he's rather good at it - he always was good at following instructions and handling delicate objects.

So, your Christmas brunch is courtesy of Rung, and you make sure to tell him how delicious everything is, kissing him afterwards so he might get a taste of the wonderful meal he's made as his arms wrap around you and he presses you against the dining table.

Later, after a long, and frankly heated make-out session, you present him with his gift. It's a model ship of the only one missing from his collection - the Lost Light itself. His eyes light up when he sees it, all ready to be put together.

That afternoon, the two of you sit together and start building the miniature, all while listening to Christmas music which plays serenely in the background.

Megatron

Megatron is staring at you quite intensely. If you weren't used to him, you might think he was glaring at you.

Still, you feel like you might have done something wrong or that he hates your gift to him. It was after all, rather personal, and Megatron isn't a huge fan of PDA.

The gift in question was a song. As it turned out, Nautica was something of a musical prodigy, so with her help, you had written a song about Megatron - She had composed the tune, while you wrote the lyrics.

You assumed that by involving another bot, Megatron felt exposed; it was entirely possible that he didn't like the idea of someone else singing about him or your relationship with him.

You couldn't be further from the truth.

The truth of the matter was that Megatron loved the song. You had poured your very soul into it, and it was so much more than he could have asked for.

... And in return, he had gotten you a gift basket. Soaps, shampoos, lotions - His research had led him to believe this was the social norm on Earth. He couldn't give you that now!

How would that look? You had given him a piece of your soul, and he got you L'oriel "because you're worth it."

No. It wasn't good enough.

"Excuse me a moment, I need to retrieve something from my hab-suite," Megatron said coolly, before leaving you.

You deflated, feeling that all was lost, especially since Megatron took a good thirty minutes to return.

Yet, when he came back, he held out a datapad for you, mumbling an apology that it wasn't wrapped.

You swallowed nervously when he wouldn't meet your eye, and then you took the present reverently.

You flicked on the screen and found it open in a folder - "(Y/N)'s Poetry."

There were well over a hundred entries, all of them dedicated to you.

'The Radiance of a Smile', 'Promises of Forever', and 'Forgiveness of the Past', were just a few at the top of the list. Even more surprising was the fact that a great many of them were written before the two of you began dating. When you looked at the earlier entries, you saw how Megatron's feelings towards you had come about and evolved into something more.

You were speechless, yet on your face, Megatron was pleased to see that you knew how he felt for you, and that your love for him was just as much of a weight, though it was one you were glad to bear.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

I Idk if you accept nsfw request but if you do how about fem s/o trying to top midnight/mic/miurko! Expect s/o gets much to flustered

(Hey Anon, thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy. Also unrelated but I started thinking about it and I need to write about Mirko more often)

Pro Heroes S/O Trying to Top but Gets too Flustered

(Characters Included- Midnight, Present Mic, and Mirko)

(Warning: NSFW content and swearing)

⛓️Nemuri Kayama⛓️ (Midnight)

- She would find it very amusing that you tried to dominate her but it would also turn her on greatly.

- She knows well that you get really flustered easily so she knows that soon you’ll be a flustered mess.

....

Nemuri has always been the dominant one in the relationship and you were happily the submissive one. She always patiently took care of you, spoiling you, giving everything you could ever asked for and you deeply appreciated that.

But today you wanted to try something different.

Today you were going to dominate The R-rated Hero herself.

You and Nemuri were relaxing in your shared bedroom and she decided to go to the dresser and change into her nighttime attire in front of you since you guys had already seen each other naked before. She had her back turned to you and you decided that this is the right time. You watched her as she took off her shirt and silently walked over behind her, wrapping your arms gently around her waist. One hand sliding down to rub on her sensitive areas and the other rising up to grab her tit.

Nemuri knew exactly what you were doing and decided to play along. “Oh my- ah yes touch me like that~”

You instantly froze. Mouth apart slightly from shock.

“That’s what I thought, darling.”

🎤Hizashi Yamada🎤 (Present Mic)

- At first he’ll be confused on the sudden change. He thinks it’s looks hot when you try and dominate him but he also thinks it looks hotter when you’re flustered.

- But you better be really prepared though because he WILL tease you a lot.

....

You guys were sitting on the couch watching a comedy movie as you both shared a small bowl of popcorn. Comedy movies were Hizashi’s favorite type of movie because as the name suggests they’re funny.

When he was dying laughing at a corny joke that one of the characters made, you decided to take the opportunity to dominate him when he least expects it.

Keeping your eyes on the movie, you slowly moved your hand up his thigh and to his clothed sensitive part. His laughter died down when he felt your hand and gave you a certain look.

“Oh my bad, I thought the popcorn bowl was there~” You said in a teasing tone, looking at him and you immediately got all hot and flustered at the way he looked at you right now.

“Since when did you become so bold?” He said with a playful smirk.

🐰Rumi Usagiyama🐰 (Mirko)

- Like Midnight, she would also find it really amusing that a person that gets flustered easily is trying to be the dominant one.

- That being said she still won’t let you dominate her and if you do try then you’ll get what’s coming.

....

One of Rumi’s hobbies is working out and due to her being very popular because she’s the number five hero, she gets a lot of attention whenever she’s in public. So to avoid the media interrupting her workout sessions to ask for a interview or something, she works out at home.

You loved it when she works out, you love to admire all of her (especially her muscles) and you feel so blessed to be in a actual relationship with her.

Right now Rumi was standing up lifting weights doing curls with them and you were silently watching her, you wouldn’t change nothing about this moment well that’s what you would’ve said but you did wanna try something different today.

As she was lifting the weights you came up to her, pressing your chest against her back and started to slowly feel her muscles.

She stopped what she was doing when she heard you say “You’ve been so stressed recently so how ‘bout you just sit back and let me make you feel good.”

“Appreciate the offer but it’s my job to make YOU feel good.” Rumi says dropping the weight on the floor and grabs you by the neck to pull you in for a rough kiss. Taking you by surprise, you moan into her mouth as she smirks against your lips.

Masterlist

[xhoneygirlxx]

Still Adore You (With Your Hand Around My Neck)

Epilogue: Destroy Myself

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: this is the beginning of the end. the start of a chaotic relationship you just can't seem to leave.

warnings: Eddie and Reader are in their 20s. Modern Au! kind of mean Eddie. rated R for smut, 18+ only Minors DNI!! unprotected p in v. cream pie. swearing. shitty writing and grammar errors.

*if i miss anything let me know*

a/n: hello my loves! this is part one to my still adore you series! i hope you guys like it as much as i do. thank you all for the love and support you've given me, i love you all so much <3

Also if you are an ageless/faceless blog you will be blocked. please have something on your profile so I know you are not a minor and are not a bot.

series masterlist

I pray my salvation makes it to the pearly gates,

Bring the suffering that I face,

All the things that I face,

Destroy myself just to wait for you.

When God created the Earth, he picked two of his children to live amongst the paradise he built to be our parents - Adam and Eve. The Garden of Eden was beautiful, a place like no other. The only rule that God gave was for them to not eat from the one tree, the tree of knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil.

They had plenty of other trees to eat from, other fruits to feast on, but when the serpent came speaking words of temptation, Eve gave into him and took a bite from the forbidden fruit, Adam would soon follow after her.

Because of the rule was broken and they went against God, they were banished forever and were cursed with the pain of mortality. Their children and their children's children would face pain and sorrow, hurt and sickness, and ultimately death.

Like Eve, you gave into temptation as well, the warnings you received and how you ignored them all for the name of love. From the very first time you met Eddie Munson warning signs flashed, blinding you with the bright lights. Caution tape blocked you from crossing that line but you inevitably ignored it, ducting under it and continuing on your way.

You walked straight into the line of fire for the promise of nirvana, for just a taste of the sweetness of his love. For the longest time you thought Eve was stupid for falling for the devil's tricks but when he came to you with the prettiest brown eyes and lips that you wanted to kiss for hours, you finally understood.

Dying by the hands of the man that you love is probably the worst death. His strong grip squeezing the air out of you so slowly, smiling at you as he did it felt like torture, but what a way to go. You'd still adore Eddie with his hand wrapped around your neck, with his heavy palm crushing your windpipe, and you'd die so full of love.

The night breeze cools the heat of your skin, hitting your sweat soaked hairline and creating chills that ran up the skin of your arm. The night was still young as they say, the party inside still going in full force. Sweat bodies and clouds of smoke filled every room, creating a sort of heat that quickly became too unbearable.

Quickly finding refuge in crackling embers of the firepit. Unknown people and nameless faces fill the chairs around you, mingling with one another. Despite the happy nature and good vibe of the atmosphere around you, you sit with a permanent frown. Pissed isn't even the word you'd want to use for how you feel at the moment.

Furious, enrage, even spitting angry would be a better description for how you felt towards your friends right now. A random house party in a random place was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night, but then Annika and Nikki looked at you with their big pleading eyes and the end was history.

"We'll stick next to you the whole time," they said, "We promise we won't leave."

Only an hour in and their promise was nothing but a lie, leaving you the minute you stepped through the threshold shouting that they'd return shortly. You didn't expect any less honestly, Annika only wanted to come here for the possibility of hooking up and Nikki was more interested in the arrival of her possible new girlfriend Val.

You always found something to do whether it was people watching or drinking until your vision began to blur. Tonight was different however, being the designated driver you were banned from drinking any alcohol and people watching was only fun for the first forty five hours.

Now you sit playing on your phone, scrolling through every app on your phone until your friends finally arrived. You continue to look at the bright screen in your hands reading through old notes that you had yet to delete, too engrossed by the amount of grocery lists to realize that half of the group left the circle.

"You know this is a party, right?" A gruff voice asks.

Lifting your head slightly, you look up from under your eyelashes to the man across from you, scowl written on your lips. The orange glow highlights him in the best of ways, making him even more alluring.

Brown curls fall from the the bun that sits on top of his head, framing his face so beautifully. His lips pull into a smirk, making the deep crevice of his dimples pop out. Big doe eyes sparkle at you, glimmering in the heat of the flames.

His outfit is basic, a band tee with a faded logo, showing off how well loved it was. The holes in his black skinny jeans show off the tiniest hint of black ink that hides beneath the fabric. The fire and moon fight over the rings that sit on his hands, both going back and forth on which one glints in the silver. A loose cigarette sits tucked behind his ear and a sweating bottle of beer rests in his strong hands.

He's captivating, alluring you like the serpent did Eve. You don't engage, promptly scoffing and then rolling your eyes back down to your phone.

"You know my uncle always said if you roll them hard enough, they'll get stuck."

You hear it before you see it, the grin that sits on his face. It adds gasoline to the already burning inferno that rests inside of you adding turbulence, causing roaring flames.

"Good, hope they do." It's bitchy, ice cold like a winter's breeze. Instead of hurling an insult that you, he laughs. A true genuine laugh that you'd compliment if it weren't for the anger pumping through you.

Shutting your phone off, you drop it into your lap and cross your arms over your chest. Sighing loudly, you look at the curly haired man across from you unimpressed, eyebrow arching sharply.

He takes your challenge of a stare down, watching you over the glass of his beer bottle as he puts it to his lips taking a swig. His gaze in unfaltering but yours isn't. It's not your fault though, not when his neck looks so delicious as he swallows every last drop.

Removing the bottle from his mouth, he catches you eyeing the plump of his lips. Even though you've been caught, your stare doesn't waver, only moving the line of your sight back up to his eyes.

"Ya know, it's not really nice to be mean to your friend." His statement causes another eye roll from you, another loud scoff pulling from your throat.

"You're not my friend," Your words swim with annoyance and it only fuels the man in front of you even more.

Gasping loudly, a ringed hand clutches his chest as if he'd been insulted to the fullest. "I'm not you're friend? I thought the warmth of the fire cemented our relationship."

He curls his lips inwards, biting back a laugh that threatens to sneak it's way out. You're not any better, your bottom lip stinging with the pressure of your teeth that sink into it.

Silences covers the two of you, begging for one of you to break first. Although you put up the toughest of fights, you're the first to lose, a small giggle escaping the lock on your lips. The man isn't far behind you, snorting loudly into the quiet night air.

"First of all, I don't even know your name." You counter, mentally berating yourself for letting a laugh squeak out.

"Oh, you need my name?" He asks, eyebrows raising curiously.

Your eyes squint at the absurdness of his question, "Yeah, that's how making friends works, genius."

Batting his eyelashes, he waves a hand at you in flattery. "I love it when you call me sweet names."

His voice is flirty teasing you to the fullest and if you don't do something fast you're going to melt, and not because the heat of the flames.

"That's my cue to leave." Pushing yourself halfway up from the chair, you're immediately stopped by his arm waving you to stop.

"No, no I quit, I promise." It's said between breathless laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he does.

Smirking ever so slightly, you bask in the sound of his voice. Sitting down slowly, you sigh as if you'd rather not be here regardless of the growing smile tugging at your lips.

Once sat back in your seat, you wait with a tapping foot and crossed arms, trying your hardest to look annoyed. He looks at you smugly, like he's enjoying the little performance you put on.

"If I tell you my name, you gotta tell me yours." He demands, you don't respond just pulling your hand out to inspect the acrylics that rest on your hand.

"I'm Eddie." He beams at you, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip.

You purse your lips, looking him up and down as if you're bored. When you give him your name, he nods slowly and repeats it like it's the prettiest thing he's heard.

"Well there you go, now we're friends." The depth of his voice makes the beat of your heart skip, cheeks burning the more you get flustered.

Shaking it off, you give him a look that the kind that reads "really?", and he only answers by returning a look that says "of course". Sucking your teeth, you look down at the blue fabric of your jeans.

"We can't be friends if we don't even hang out." It's shy, your confidence subsiding harshly under the heat of his eyes.

Now he scoffs, shaking his head back and forth causing the loose curls to move with him. "Don't do me like that, Pookie. Just gimme your number and I'll hang out any time your little heart desires."

"You did not just call me fucking Pookie." You laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach.

You don't see him but Eddie just looks at you like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, adoration swimming in the dark color of his eyes.

When your laughter ceases and you fall back into your normal position, you open your eyes to see him looking at you. For the first time in your life you finally see what it's like to be looked at as if you hung the stars in their place. It feels good, heart racing and air catching in the back of your throat.

Blinking out of your trance, you nod shakily. "Umm, you said something about my ugh number?"

Eddie reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and tapping in the code to unlock it. Handing it over to you wordlessly, it's already open to the new contact screen where you punch in the ten digit number. You ponder for a moment before typing in a name, flicking back and forth between the options you have, until you ultimately adding it under your given nickname with a black heart.

Handing it back to him, he looks at it smirking and then puts it back into its rightful home of his pocket. Opening his mouth to say something Eddie is interrupted with the sound of the backdoor opening and the rush of the music inside pouring from the doorway.

"Hey, we've been looking for you!" Annika shouts, stumbling towards you on unsteady feet.

Looking at the clearly tipsy girl, you turn back around to see give a sympathetic look to Eddie, quietly apologizing for your drunken friend.

"I guess that's my que to go." You shrug, moving from your spot on the chair.

Eddie only looks at you tenderly, dimples on full display for you. "Go ahead, Pookie. I'll see you later."

Sending you off with a wink, you walk away from the sanctuary you found. Walking over to your friend, you can't help but look back at the pretty boy you met finding him already smiling back at you.

Threading your arm in your friend's, you allow her to put her weight onto you so she doesn't fall. Unfocused eyes scan to where you keep looking, squinting to find the person.

"Who's that?" She keeps squinting, trying hard to see the man's features.

When her eyes seem to make out what she looks like, she perks up with a dopey smile. "Oh my fucking gawd, he's hot."

Saying it a little too loudly, you instantly clap your hand over her mouth and look back to make sure Eddie hasn't heard. You find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking with a clear laugh as he lights the cigarette that hangs between his teeth.

"Hope you got his number, would be a shot missed if you didn't." She chastises once you remove your palm from her lips. You sigh loudly and pull her along and make your way into the house.

Eddie kept his promise, using all his free time over the summer to see you. It started off innocently enough, late night drives down to the lake, midafternoon hangouts in the Dairy Queen parking lot where you’d sit in the bed of his beat up truck, and hanging out in his apartment watching him play video games.

Friends, that’s all it was in the beginning. Two people opening up to one another, bonding over their shitty childhoods and laughing at jokes that no one else ever understood.

As the heat of the roaring sun became more intense, so did the relationship between the two of you. Touches became lingering like the tickle of the tall overgrown grass by the lake. Kisses were light and airy, reminiscent of the lightning bugs that flew around in the dark summer sky. Eddie’s scent lingered with you even after you’d gone home, similar to sunscreen.

Tangled sheets and messy hair, flustered cheeks and dopey smiles. The two of you shined so bright even the stars that hung from the dark blue night were jealous.

But when the sunsets came sooner and sooner, so did the end of your fairytale. Calls became unanswered, hangouts were no more, and hand holding became totally off limits. What was once warm and sickly sweet smiles, was now cold shoulders and icy attitudes.

You felt stupid, falling for someone that wasn’t even yours. Giving Eddie your heart on a platter when he never even asked. When this all started you knew what it was, signing your soul over to the devil using your blood as ink.

The risks were in plain sight, the rules agreed on with the locking of pinkies, and yet you still broke them. Eddie told you over and over again this wasn’t anything other than some fun, a way to pass the boring summer days faster.

And although it hurt, you still plunged the sword deeper and deeper. What is love without some loss?

The mahogany teakwood candles that burns on the top of your dresser does nothing to get rid of the smell that you and Eddie have created. Notes of dark oat and frosted lavender are being drowned out by sweat and sex.

Cotton sheets soak up the perpetration, the outline of his body imprinted to remind you that he was once there, the only lingering memory of him when he inevitably leaves. Cheeks flushed with red, screaming claw marks on alabaster skin, and bruises in the shape of teeth.

"Fuck, squeezin' me s'good, baby." Eddie's all gritted teeth and panting breath as he wiggles around underneath you.

The ache in your knees is no match for the burn you feel in the pit of your stomach, your hole clenching around the thickness of his cock. Switching between bouncing and rocking your hips, you're hurdling closer and closer to the edge.

Sentences aren't even forming in your brain, only random blabbering falls from your lips in loud whines with the way he punches into your cervix.

"S'good, shit you feel so good." It comes out like a sob, ripped right out from the depths of your soul.

Big strong hands grip at the plush of your hips, finger prints threatening to leave a mark for the next day. A wicked grin forms on red kiss bitten lips, basking in the glory of you crumbling on top of him.

"Yeah? Is it good, princess?" Arrogant and cocky, two traits that only he can pull off without it being a turn off.

Your head wildly bobs, drool escaping from your parted lips. "Uh huh," the only real response you can give him in this very moment and it's all he needs to know he's fucked you dumb beyond repair.

Bending his knees, Eddie starts to fuck up into you with unwavering force. The thatch of course hair that sits at the base of his cock catches deliciously on your swollen and neglected clit, resulting in harsh mewl.

With your own eyes screwed shut you don't see that his have rolled into the back of his head, jaw unhinged with the pleasure of you clasping around him tightly. Regardless of his own peak nearing, Eddie continues to keep up with his facade, making sure you finish way before he does.

"I'm so deep huh? S'deep, shit- so deep in this tight f-uhh, fucking cunt." Teeth bite down on the fat of his bottom lip, holding the whimpers from escaping from his mouth.

The speed of his movements, the loud squelch of your juices, and the intensity of him hitting into your g-spot is enough to make your head dizzy. He's everywhere, his touch, his scent, his voice. He's everywhere, all around you and you don't think that anything else in the world could create the same euphoric feeling he does.

"M'gonna-, ah I'm gonna cum." The end is closing in on you, the wave of ecstasy crashing into the shore. Although it feels so good crossing the finish line, you know when it's over he'll be gone all too soon.

"Me too, sweetheart. Motherfuck-, cum for me." The act that he had put on has finally faltered, cracking right at the seams.

That does it, pushes you right off the edge into the blissful waters of your high. Your already weakening knees have now failed you, letting you drop onto the slick soaked skin of Eddie's tattooed chest.

The two of you continue to whimper and moan as your highs ripple through you. Both of you create lightning, a pair of super bolts roar in the middle of your quiet bedroom. In the heat of your bliss, you're completely ignorant to the consequences of such strong power being created. No matter what the outcome is, at least it was beautiful and for the smallest of moments, it was real.

After the glory has finally wore off you remove yourself from him, letting out a strong hiss when the feeling of him is completely out of you. Letting your body fall to the plushness of your mattress, you allow yourself to cycle through the memory of it all.

Naked chests heave, a silence pulling over both of you like a heavy quilt in the winter. It's comfortable like this, the heat radiating off of your skin mixes with Eddie's, the pumping of hearts syncing into the same rhythm pattern.

While your body settles into the softness of your bed, Eddie's is quick to jump up from his spot with a loud grunt. Fresh red marks flash at you, decorating the smooth skin of his back along with the pretty freckles you used to trace with the soft flesh of your finger tips.

As he sits on the side of your bed catching his breath, you wonder if he misses the feeling of your touch the way you miss his skin. You wonder if he misses the intensity of your body next to his, arms and legs tangled together buried underneath the shelter of his comforter. You wonder if his bed misses the shape of your body the way yours misses his.

The springs of your mattress groan when the weight of his body leaves and for a moment you feel the same way. Footsteps are muted by the fibers of your carpeting. You watch from your spot as Eddie grabs a tissue from your vanity, wiping himself free of any evidence of you and then disposing it into the garbage can with a careless toss.

Muscles flex as he begins to redress himself, hiding the masterpiece that you left on his skin. You hope that they sting when he's under the heated water of his shower, a pang that will go away within a few days while the pang of your hurt will last a lifetime.

His messy curls pull from the neck of his shirt, shaking with the motions of his head trying to get rid of the unruly hair that masks his vision. From the singular foot away that the two of you stand, you pray that he won't leave, that this isn't the end.

"Do you wanna stay? W-we could watch a movie or something." Behind the sincerity of your voice is a girl that mourns the loss of her once best friend, begging him to remember what the two of you had in the beginning.

The clang of his belt ricochets through the room, an uncomfortable hallow sound that you wish to forget. Spinning on the socked heel of his foot, he gives you a blank face. One so devoid of emotion, cold and vacant.

"Don't start doin' this, Pookie. You already know what this is." A clear warning given with a strict tone.

The nickname that used to cause butterflies only brings mountains of sadness. It used to have meaning, a funny inside joke between the two of you now dwindled down to the name of a place holder.

"I just thought-" Going unfinished by the sound of Eddie's deep sigh.

"Not tonight, kay?" He says as nicely enough to placate you and even though you know nothing will come from it, you're still full of hope.

Bending down, he begins to slide his feet into his shoes, the same one's you gifted to him only so many months ago. Watching him tie the browning shoelaces of his vans, you wonder if he remembers the way you smiled while handing him the box, or how he felt when you said you got them just because.

It tugs at your already bandaged heart, the sticky adhesive of band aids doing their absolute best to keep the muscle intact. The rattle of the remaining broken pieces rattle in your ears, muffling everything else around you.

The lanky man stands to full height, grabbing his beloved leather jacket from your floor where it was left in the tornado of excitement. Rounding the end of your bed he makes his way to you, standing over your still naked body.

Bending at the waist, Eddie places a wet kiss on your forehead and pulls away with charming smile.

"I'll text you, pook."

You nod at his words, gripping on tightly to the faith that this whole thing will work out the way you hope. Giving you a wink, Eddie quickly exists your room and just like that you crumble.

On the wet sheets of your bed you curl into yourself, naked and vulnerable in more ways than one. Tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from the depths of your stomach. It hurts watching him walk out because you never know when it'll be the last time.

You try to think back to when everything changed, where it all went wrong. All of the flashbacks and memories flood your brain, a film wheel of all the happy moments. More tears flow, a nonstop river of all the heartache.

You miss him, what your friendship used to be. At this point you don't even care if he loves you the way you love him, you just want him to care for you like he did all those months ago.

You wish you could go back to that warm summer day where you handed over your heart and let him carve his name in it, so that no matter what you did you'd belong to him for the rest of your days.

thank you all for reading!! i hope you guys like part one :)

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