#second interaction: him asking me out and me saying no

[bro-atz]

seeing double

in which: your complicated situationship with your upperclassman gets more complicated thanks to the feelings of an underclassman.

pair: college student!seonghwa/college student!afab!reader/college student!wonbin

word count: 11.1k

content: love triangle, lowkey dramatic, confessions, nicknames (doll, doll face, baby), smut (obvi), fwb (w seonghwa), seonghwa's lowkey a dick, jealousy sex, horny rabbits...?, three different smut scenes omg, slightly drunk make out session, oral sex, threesome, double penetration, safe sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: thank you @yunhoszn for helping me w the development of this fic ily babes •///3///• nd honorary dedication to @starryriize bc you chose to torture me w ian reels /j also yes i'm repeating myself w the college trope (nd some of the warnings) but i can't help myself i love college aus

another world masterlist

WONBIN had a massive crush on you. You were smart, beautiful, charismatic— if he believed in love at first sight, it was because of you.

He didn't join the journalism club because of you; the fact that you were the vice president of the club was merely a happy coincidence. Wonbin made sure to never miss a single meeting because the meetings were the only way he got to see you. You were a junior, and he was merely a freshman. He honestly wondered if he even had a chance with you because you were an upperclassman and probably wouldn't go for someone younger than you, but he still wanted to try his luck because, as far as he could tell, you were single.

"Alright, well that concludes this week's meeting. Everyone has their assignments, correct?" you asked as you sorted your papers.

Everyone nodded, but Wonbin's nod was just a little more vigorous.

"Great. Okay, go off, do your thing."

You dismissed everyone, and before Wonbin got out of his chair, you said, "Wait, Wonbin, I need to talk to you."

"Y-Yes?" Wonbin stuttered while praying his voice wouldn't betray him by cracking.

"Your last article was really good, but I'm wondering if we should have you exploring the arts department more."

"What do you mean?"

"You have a clear passion for theater and musicals, so if you would like, you can focus on the school performances instead of being assigned to whatever's left," you explained.

"You mean like... I get my own column?"

"Yep— Only if you want it, though!" you clarified.

"No, I really do want it! Thank you so much!" Wonbin said excitedly while bowing gratefully.

The thing was that only upperclassmen got their own section, and all of the underclassmen picked up random scraps here and there, so the fact that Wonbin was getting offered this chance was incredible to him. Plus, if you were the one breaking the news to him, that must mean you really like his articles.

"So, Seonghwa's going to talk to you more about the column maybe tomorrow or next week," you continued. "It depends on when he gets done with his capstone, after all."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Wonbin nodded— after all, the president did have the final say for everything.

"Good. Alright, I'll see you later then."

Wonbin nodded and bowed again before doing his best to leave the room confidently. The second he was out of the room, though, he held onto his beating heart and exhaled heavily. A smile and light pink blush crept onto his cheeks as he replayed the moment in his head. The smile lingered on his face as he left the building with a skip in his step.

"Hey, Wonbin," a girl he'd never seen before suddenly approached him as he left the building. "I— I have something to tell you..."

Slightly taken aback, the smile on his face faltered as he looked at the girl. He took in his surroundings and realized that there was a group of girls standing several feet away watching his interaction with this girl with a blazing red face.

Oh. Another confession.

"What is it?" Wonbin tried asking as politely as possible, but his patience was wearing thin.

"I... I really like you!"

Lord.

"Oh, well, thank you," he said softly.

"Will you go out with me?" The girl suddenly got a little bolder as she lifted her head to make intense eye contact with him.

"Ah, well, um... I already have a girlfriend," Wonbin lied straight through his teeth.

The girl's face fell. She looked at the group of other girls and glared at them. Then, she quickly turned back to Wonbin and said, "I-I'm sorry for wasting your time! Bye!"

Wonbin watched the girl scurry off to her friends and start sobbing the second she got to them. He let out a soft sigh. He grabbed his headphones from his bag and put them on before playing a song and making his way off campus.

Why couldn't he just get the girl that he wanted?

YOU finished up the article you were working on and were cleaning up your station when your phone pinged with a new notification.

seonghwa: meet me at the bridge

The bridge he was talking about, the only bridge on campus, was a five minute walk from your building. You messaged him back before wrapping up and heading out of the building.

It was already nighttime when you left the building. You shouldn't have been surprised at that point because you were used to staying late to finish up articles, but every time you walked out to a dark sky and barely any stars, you were always surprised. Quickly, you made your way to the bridge and saw Seonghwa standing at the peak of it while leaning against the wood railing. The second you took a step on the creaking wood, Seonghwa turned his head, his gaze meeting yours.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

"Hi."

"So, tell me," the man got right to it. "How was the meeting?"

"It went well. Everyone did what they were supposed to, everyone got their assignments— standard."

"Good."

"Oh, and I told Wonbin about the column. He seemed pretty excited about it," you couldn't help but giggle thinking about the giddy expression on his face and the stars sparkling in his eyes.

"Yeah? That's good to hear."

Seonghwa, for some reason, seemed a little disgruntled after you brought up Wonbin. You were confused— it was his idea to give Wonbin the column in the first place, so why was he acting all weird about it now?

You knew Seonghwa was definitely bothered when he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He took one out and stuck it between his lips, only for you to take it out of his mouth.

"What?" Seonghwa turned to you, very clearly irritated.

"Not yet."

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Okay, but I'd rather not make out with you when you have cigarette breath, Hwa," you responded while leaning closer to him.

"Oh? Is that on the table tonight?"

Seonghwa turned towards you and wrapped his arms around you before pulling you close to him.

"You have to ask? I thought that was a given."

"Hmm, okay, doll face," Seonghwa hummed.

His hands strayed down to your ass. He held your ass tightly before pulling up, bringing you to your tippy toes and closer to him. You held his shoulders and brought your face closer to his.

"Your place or mine?"

Seonghwa, somewhat lost in thought, hummed again while teasing you, his lips barely grazing yours.

"Your place. My roommate's bringing someone home."

"Alright, but one condition."

"What is it?"

"Stop fucking teasing me and kiss me."

Seonghwa stifled a giggle and leaned away from you to get a look at the expression on your face. "We're in public," he whispered. "Do you really want people to see?"

"Hwa, your hands are on my fucking ass right now."

"Touché."

Finally, he stopped teasing you, and he pressed his lips against yours. His hands moved from your ass to your lower back. His fingertips tickled the dimples on your back, and his lips made yours tingle when he tugged upwards on your lower lip. You ran your fingers through his hair with one hand, your other hand slipping from his shoulder to his chest. His arms pulled you even closer— you had no idea if there was even room between the two of you— and you felt his pelvis press against you. He was starting to firm up.

"Wait," you breathlessly pushed him away, the man whining slightly. "Let's go before you fuck me on the bridge."

 The entire walk back to your place, Seonghwa kept a slight distance between the two of you. The great thing about the bridge was that not many students used it, so he was able to be as intimate as he wanted to be with you there, but the walk from campus to your apartment made you go through the major hotspots of your college, and if the two of you were going to keep your relationship a secret, you both had to act like there was absolutely nothing between the two of you.

So, the second your front door shut behind you, Seonghwa pounced on you. He grabbed your shirt collar and pulled you in while making out with you sloppily, your own fingers getting tangled in his hair. His fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt nimbly before untucking your shirt and pulling the sleeves down quickly. He continued breathlessly kissing you as he pinned you against the door. You worked on getting his shirt off, the buttons coming off one by one to reveal his white wife-beater.

You were getting impatient. You pushed Seonghwa away from the door and towards your bedroom, Seonghwa ultimately carrying you while you wrapped your legs around his waist so he could kiss you a little more comfortably.

As soon as you got to your room, Seonghwa sat then laid down on the bed, making you straddle him and hover above him. Still kissing, you reached behind you and unhooked your bra, the bra flying somewhere in the room the second the straps fell off your shoulders.

You saw Seonghwa's eyes sparkle when he laid eyes on your breasts. He slid down slightly and wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer to him, the man immediately sucking on your breast as soon as it neared his mouth. You sighed blissfully the harder he sucked, and you moaned softly when he began massaging your other breast with his hand.

"Seong— Mmm! Seonghwa, p-please," you whined. "Just fuck me, please..."

Seonghwa chose to ignore you. He, instead, switched breasts, and instead of massaging your breast again, he ran his hands down the curve of your bare waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He tugged on your nipple gently with his teeth, his hands removing your pants, allowing you to kick them off.

"Stay on your hands and knees, doll face," Seonghwa said, his voice low and sultry, sending tingles down your spine.

You chose to listen to him. Seonghwa slipped off the bed and pushed you forward so that you were in the center of the bed. He brought your waist up slightly before licking a stripe along your cunt. You gripped the duvet below you and sighed with pleasure as you felt Seonghwa's tongue ravish your pussy.

"Oh my God— Oh fuck!" you cried when you felt his finger draw circles on your clit while his tongue pushed through your folds. You clawed at the sheets and curled your toes as you felt the pleasure building within you.

As he continued to eat you out, Seonghwa removed his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled his cock out. His tongue was still deep inside you as he collected some of your arousal onto his fingers before stroking himself. The higher and shorter your moans got, the faster he fucked his fist. It was when his tongue found your clit once again did white fill your vision. You cried loudly as you came, Seonghwa nearly getting a facial as you squirted. He quickly drove two of his fingers into your cunt and fingered you hard and fast, getting you to squirt again. Your thighs were trembling, and your hands were barely supporting you by the time you recovered from your orgasm.

"God, doll face, how pent up were you?" Seonghwa teased as he moved upright and knelt right behind you.

You couldn't even tell him to shut up— you were breathing heavily and focusing on blinking until you could see clearly again. Seonghwa got off the bed momentarily to rifle through your nightstand and grab a condom from the box the two of you had stashed there months ago before returning to his position behind you. He rolled the condom on then teased your cunt with the tip of his cock. He rubbed up and down, occasionally pressing the head through your folds.

"Hwa— Ah! Oh, shit," you were about to yell at him to stop teasing you when he shoved his cock all the way inside you, bottoming out.

"Hmm?" Seonghwa asked with a slight groan. "What was that?"

You bit your lower lip and shook your head before dropping it, the man behind you chuckling at your response. He held your hips and began moving at a fairly steady pace. Every time he thrust into you, you heard him exhale through gritted teeth. The lewd sounds of your wet cunt swallowing Seonghwa's cock filled up the room along with the bedsprings below you, the man starting to speed up.

Seonghwa moved his hands to your waist, and at some point, he pushed the space between your shoulder blades down, making you go from your hands to your knees. He leaned over you and smacked his waist against yours even faster, his breathing erratic as he choked back his groans. You, on the other hand, were just letting yourself go. The new angle drove you to pleasure faster, and at some point, you couldn't take it anymore.

"F-Fuck, I'm cumming!" you whimpered as you pushed your head into your mattress.

You cunt fluttered before completely tightening up, Seonghwa wincing as the tension felt way too fucking good. He pulled out and fingered you fast, making you squirt onto his pants and your duvet. Your cries died down as you completely released, the knot in your stomach completely unraveling. You collapsed onto your bed and sighed blissfully while knowing in the back of your head that Seonghwa wasn't done with you yet because he still had yet to cum as well.

"Damn, now I need to do my laundry," Seonghwa chuckled as he observed his stained pants. "Looks like I'm spending the night."

"Be honest with me— you did that intentionally, right?" you accused him with a playful tone as you turned to face him.

"And what if I did?"

"Hwa, you can just spend the night if you'd like. You don't need to come up with an excuse. Also, you have a lot of clothes here."

Seonghwa had slipped out of his pants and tossed them over the edge of the bed before kneeling between your now open legs. He tugged his wife-beater off and flung it behind him before hovering right above you, his beautiful face nearing yours slowly.

"Is that right, doll?" Seonghwa asked with his signature smile. "Alright, noted."

You smiled back and held the back of his neck to pull him down and kiss you. Seonghwa kissed you sensually as he positioned his cock and slipped it into your wet cunt. You were soaking, and it was easy for him to glide through you, but that didn't change the fact that you were still incredibly tight. So tight, in fact, that Seonghwa could barely hold it together.

It was when you moved your hips upwards into his slightly that caused him to break. He stopped kissing you to fuck you fast and hard, your hands moving to his arms and gripping tightly.

Seonghwa couldn't even get the words out. He groaned loudly as he came, his hot cum filling the rubber yet still warming you up inside. He continued moving in and out of you, his cock twitching as more ropes of cum continued collecting in the condom. With a final sigh, Seonghwa hovered above you again, his boba eyes starry with bliss.

"Seonghwa," you whispered as you brushed his stray locks from his sweaty forehead. "Tell me something."

"What is it, doll?"

"Was that enough for you, or can we..."

Seonghwa chuckled. He placed his thumb on your lower lip and tugged gently. You saw his eyes darken, and you felt his cock— which was still inside you— firm up.

"I can never get enough of you, doll."

YOU knew that Seonghwa sleeping over was a bad idea because he was going to make the two of you late for class. That morning, you woke up to Seonghwa's waist pressing into yours, his insatiability overpowering you.

"Come on, doll face," Seonghwa's morning voice rumbled in your ear as he hugged you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Just one time..."

"Hwa, we have class..." you sighed.

No was not an option at that point because Seonghwa's hands slipped under your shirt and tiptoed up to your breasts, his fingers immediately finding and tugging on your nipples. He pressed gentle kisses along the slope of your neck, his kisses slowly moving to your shoulder.

"Goddammit, fuck you, Park Seonghwa," you groaned when you felt him push his knee between your legs.

That's how the two of you ended up sprinting to campus. You both had class at the same time, but they were different classes, so no one could suspect the relationship between the two of you since you were running to opposite ends of campus.

After your morning class, though, the two of you met up at the cafeteria— you and your friends from the journalism department always ate lunch together, which meant you got to see Seonghwa again.

"Hey, how was your morning?" Seonghwa asked very nonchalantly as he sat down right next to you. 

"A bit of a headache, actually," you answered truthfully.

"Oh? Why is that?"

There was a sly smirk on Seonghwa's face— a smirk that you wanted to wipe off with a slap, but you held yourself back.

"I couldn't get out of bed."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to sleep— Seonghwa, just shut the fuck up and eat your lunch," you said, your voice laced with exasperation as you pushed his face away from you so he would stop asking you “why?”.

You and your friends dug into your lunches, and the table was silent for a grand total of two seconds before one of your friends commented, "You guys are awfully close for people who are just friends..."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between the two of you?"

Neither you nor Seonghwa changed your expression— the two of you were masters at not getting flustered when people asked you invasive questions at that point.

"As if anything would happen between us," Seonghwa scoffed.

"But you two were clearly flirting—"

"Seonghwa just lives to annoy the shit out of me," you swiftly responded. "You shut up and eat your food, too."

A couple other friends snickered before the conversation steered back to something normal.

And although you and Seonghwa agreed that nothing serious would ever happen between you two, his response to your friend's question bothered you slightly.

His response continued to swirl around in the back of your head as you went through your remaining classes and got to the journalism department floor. You desperately tried to distract yourself by throwing yourself into your homework and work for the club, but it just kept fucking bothering you.

"As if anything would happen between us."

You hated that you were overthinking it. After giving up on trying to focus, you packed up your bag and stood up, only to realize the entire floor was completely deserted; you were so in your own head that you didn't realize how much time had passed. You sighed softly to yourself and began walking towards the exit, only to hear someone rapidly typing.

You walked in the direction of the sound to see Wonbin staring intently at his screen and tapping away. He had his headphones on as well as a pair of blue-light glasses as he practically shoved his face into his computer screen. He was so focused, and at first you found it cute, but when you saw the serious look on his face, your heart skipped a beat.

He looked familiar in a way, but you couldn't quite place it.

Shaking the thought from your head, you decided to quietly approach him. You leaned over his shoulder, and even then, Wonbin had yet to notice you. It was when you asked, "Whatcha workin' on?" did Wonbin respond to you.

"Oh my God, you scared me!" Wonbin exclaimed while nearly leaping out of his chair.

"Sorry," you couldn't help but laugh as you apologized to the startled guy. "So, what're you working on?"

Clearing his throat and moving slightly to the side so that you could get a better look at his screen, Wonbin moved the cursor to show many, many tabs. He explained that he was doing all of the research in the Goddamn world before writing an article for one of his journalism classes. Seeing him talk so passionately about what he was working on made a soft smile spread across your face, and your heart fluttered a bit before a new nagging feeling entered the back of your mind as you suddenly realized why he looked familiar to you.

He reminded you of a younger Seonghwa.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a growling noise— Wonbin's stomach was rumbling. His face went bright red as he covered his stomach and looked away from you.

"Wonbin, when was the last time you ate?" you asked him.

"Uh... I think this morning," he admitted. "I skipped lunch to work on the research."

"Alright, come with me. Let's go get some dinner."

Wonbin scrambled to clean up his station before scurrying after you. The two of you ended up going to the convenience store near campus and grabbing cup ramens. The two of you sat side by side as you ate your ramen in silence and stared out the window.

"I have a question for you," you stated somewhat suddenly, making the poor guy choke on his noodles. "Why did you choose journalism?"

"Honestly... I don't know. I kind of wanted to become a musician, but my parents made me reconsider because it wasn't realistic according to them," Wonbin responded— he was being pretty candid with you, making your heart swell up a tiny bit.

"What do you want to do after college, then?"

"No idea yet... I should figure that out, shouldn't I?"

Wonbin looked at his ramen and sighed softly. You definitely stressed the poor boy out. In attempt to make him feel better, you patted his head and said, "You still have, like, two years to figure it out. Don't stress too hard for now."

"O-Oh! Right! You're, erm, you're right..." Wonbin nearly yelped, his face turning bright red. "I have time..."

The innocent, puppy-dog look on his face made your cuteness aggression kick in for absolutely no reason. You ended up chuckling lightly and ruffling his hair, Wonbin's face only getting redder.

He's so cute.

After the two of you finished eating and making more small talk, you both exited the convenience store.

"Which way are you headed, Wonbin?" you asked.

"That way. You?"

"I'm the opposite direction," you couldn't help but laugh. "Get home safe, okay?"

"W-Wait, I can walk you home—"

"Don't be ridiculous. I live close to here, and you should get home soon, too. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wonbin pressed his lips together and nodded. Again, he looked so damn cute that you just couldn't help yourself. You ruffled his hair again and waved goodbye to him before heading back to your apartment.

So cute.

After that night, you couldn't help but give Wonbin more attention. Maybe it was the fact that he reminded you of Seonghwa that drew you to the younger guy, but regardless, you were definitely showing him a little more attention than the other underclassmen after that.

SEONGHWA was annoyed. You had suddenly grown distant from him, and he didn't know why. You were being pretty passive when he texted you, and honestly, it had been a week since the two of you had hooked up— the max it had ever been was 3, maybe 4, days. Which meant not only was Seonghwa annoyed, but he was also pent up.

His irritation only grew when he saw how close you were getting with the underclassmen, specifically Wonbin. Sure, it was your job as the vice president to make sure everyone could handle the work assigned and get everything in on time, but the president and vice president still had to check in with each other, right?

One day, he snapped. You were sitting next to Wonbin and laughing with him, and he didn't like that at all. Seonghwa wasn't one to get jealous, but you with this kid was driving him insane. He needed to say something to you.

"Any questions?" Seonghwa asked after wrapping up that week's club meeting.

Not a single person raised their hand. Seonghwa nodded before silently dismissing everyone. He kept an eye on you as he saw you quickly grab your bag and try to sneak out of the room. Before you made it to the doors, he grabbed your shoulder and said, "We need to talk, vice president."

He saw you gulp nervously before nodding and heading towards the center of the room. As soon as everyone had left, Seonghwa closed and locked the door.

"What the hell, Y/N? You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" Seonghwa cut the bullshit and got straight to it.

"N-No, I haven't—"

"Don't fucking lie to me. You just tried to sneak out of the room. What the hell is going on?"

You let out a deep breath and met his steely gaze as you responded, "Nothing. Everything's fine. I just have work to do."

"What, with that kid?"

Seonghwa saw your eyebrows furrow, and the frown on your face deepened. He definitely hit a sore spot.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You've been spending more time with that kid lately."

You slammed your bag onto the conference room table and stood a little more confidently, slightly startling Seonghwa. His gaze then hardened before he continued, "You need to stop being so nice to the kid—"

"Kid? He's got a name, Seonghwa, and he's not a kid. Don't make it sound weird," you interrupted.

"You're the one making it weird when you say it like that. Either way, don't be so nice to him."

"Why? Weren't you the one who wanted to give him that column in the first place?"

"Yes, but—"

"So, why shouldn't I help him? He's a freshman, Seonghwa, and he needs some help with this first article."

"Because you need to stop leading him on," the words flew out of Seonghwa's mouth before he could even reflect what he actually meant.

Your face got slightly red, and Seonghwa immediately realized what was going on: you weren't spending time with Wonbin to help him; you were spending time with Wonbin to be with him.

"You like him, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"So what if I do?" you cleared your throat and shot back.

"You shouldn't. It's unprofessional."

You scoffed (and Seonghwa also mentally reprimanded himself for saying something so foolish). "Are you really one to be preaching professionalism, Seonghwa?"

Seonghwa lowered his gaze. You weren't wrong.

"I can do whatever I want, Seonghwa. You're not my boyfriend."

"I—"

"And I'm not leading him on if I'm genuinely interested in him," you interrupted.

"Genuinely interested? Ha! Give me a break," Seonghwa laughed sardonically. "Besides, I may not be your boyfriend, but face it, doll face— You're mine. You've been mine since we met, and you'll continue to be mine."

"Excuse me? I'm not an object for you to fucking own, and the only way I'll ever actually be yours is if you decide to stop acting like this and actually ask me out, you prick."

Seonghwa was at a loss for words. He was getting really heated, and his jealousy was surging forward, because he didn't mean half of the things coming out of his huge fucking mouth; but, he couldn't stop himself. He was so pissed.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me, then? You're mad that I'm not asking you to be exclusive?"

"You are the one that said "as if anything would happen between us," and I want to stop wasting my time on someone who sees me as nothing more than his personal fuck toy."

"But, Y/N, you knew what you were getting into... We agreed that we wouldn't catch feelings for each other."

You were quiet for a little, then said softly, "Then why are you jealous?"

Seonghwa did not know how to respond to that. He sighed softly before pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tightly. He was trying to rationalize everything in his head, but he had too many thoughts and emotions flying around. After a moment of silence passed, Seonghwa opened his eyes and gazed at you, his heart beating slightly faster as he saw the sadness in your eyes. He took a small step forward and held his hands out for you to hold, and he was relieved when you did take his hand.

"I'm sorry," he started. "It's... It's complicated. I need some time to think about it... Maybe even talk it through."

"I think I do too," you admitted quietly. "We don't have to talk about it tonight, though."

"That's the thing, though... I— I want to," Seonghwa stuttered. He laced his fingers with yours and held them up before looking into your eyes earnestly and saying, "I really miss you."

"I miss you, too, Hwa."

Hearing you finally say his nickname instead of his full name made the man feel so much better. He could help but smile in relief. The smile on his face faltered when you took your hands back, but it returned when you hugged him. He hugged you as well and kissed your temple while comforting you by rubbing your back.

"Would you like to come over to my place tonight to talk things through? Please?" Seonghwa whispered.

"...I'd like that."

WONBIN was a little upset if he was being honest. He knew that you were helping him with the column since it was his first time working on something so big, so when you stopped helping him, he was disappointed.

The more time you spent with him, the bigger his crush on you grew. He honestly thought that maybe you might've shared the same feelings, but after he completed his first column, his number of interactions with you had died down. At least you were still talking to him even if it was not as frequently.

That being said, after spending so much time with you, Wonbin couldn't help but pay even more attention to you. He wasn't stalking you or anything, but any time you were within his general vicinity, his eyes were drawn towards you. You were even more beautiful, even more charming, even more charismatic to him. Dare he say it, if he wasn't careful, he would fall in love with you.

He noticed these things, but he also noticed that you were kind of sticking close to Seonghwa's side. He wondered if you were dating the guy because there was just something about the way the two of you interacted that made him question exactly how close you were with the president. Like, at some point, it didn't look like a vice president and a president talking, nor did it seem like two really good friends talking, but rather like two people who clearly had feelings for each other.

"Don't forget," Seonghwa announced at the end of that week's meeting. "We have the social tonight. Everyone better show up!"

Laughter and chatter rippled through the club, and soon after, everyone left the room. Wonbin took a little more time leaving the room and saw you approach Seonghwa with some files. You were standing awfully close to him, and Wonbin definitely noticed the way Seonghwa's facial features softened when you spoke to him. He feared that his suspicions were true when he saw the two of you laugh and chat happily, so he quickly left the room before he had to see more of it.

Unfortunately, he was going to see more of it that night at the social. He was dreading the social, actually. At first, he was excited because it was a chance to spend time with you, but after what happened earlier that day, he had very mixed feelings about it. Those feelings became significantly less mixed when he found himself surrounded by all of the girls in the journalism department.

"You're so cute, Wonbin," one girl commented as she touched his arm for more than three seconds. "Your girlfriend must be very happy to be with you."

Shit.

He forgot that he told people that he had a girlfriend. Yet, even though this girl next to him knew that he "had a girlfriend," she was still hitting on him. Seriously, what was wrong with this girl?

"Yeah, she is," Wonbin responded with a pleasant smile as he brushed the girl's hand off his arm.

"Are you happy to be with her, though?" another girl pressed herself right up against Wonbin's shoulder.

"Yeah, I am," Wonbin kept his pleasant smile plastered to his face while he moved away from the girl.

The girls continued to talk to him and harass him, and every girl tried to get him to drink, but there was no way in hell that he would drink anything these girls gave him out of fear for his own safety.

For once, Wonbin was actually super grateful to see Seonghwa walk in, because the second he did, all the girls turned their attention to him, allowing Wonbin to sneak away from the girls and sit elsewhere. He sat down near some male upperclassmen and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God..." he muttered to himself.

"Oh no! Pretty girls love me and won't leave me alone!" one of the upperclassmen said with heavy sarcasm. "You don't realize how lucky you are, you lucky bastard."

"You know most of those girls are psycho, though, right?" Wonbin explained. "Some of them followed me home the other day..."

"Okay, well, when you put it like that..."

The upperclassman, now feeling horrible for the poor freshman, poured Wonbin a shot then clinked his glass with Wonbin's before they both took their shots. Wonbin wasn't exactly a lightweight, but the second the shot went down, he realized that maybe that was enough for the night; and that realization only doubled down when felt his face get hot and his body sway.

The upperclassmen were all talking— and they weren't leaving Wonbin out— but Wonbin was only able to get out small statements and words here and there. He was definitely not drunk, and he was barely tipsy, but the only reason he was so out of it was because he couldn't help but stare at you. Seonghwa ended up sitting right next to you when he got to the restaurant, so Wonbin watched with slight envy as you laughed (cutely, in Wonbin's humble opinion) at something Seonghwa said.

"Hey," Wonbin suddenly interrupted the upperclassmen's conversation about God knows what. "I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Is there something going on between Y/N and Seonghwa?"

"Oh, I actually know the answer to this one!" one of the upperclassmen at the table spoke. "I asked them the other day, and they both got mad at me, so I know this for a fact."

"Jesus, you're just as wordy as your fucking articles," another upperclassman slapped the first guy's shoulder. "Spit it out."

"Well, Seonghwa said, "As if anything would happen between us," and then Y/N said that Seonghwa lives to annoy the shit out of her, so there's really nothing there."

"Huh..." Wonbin mused out loud.

"Plus, Seonghwa's graduating this year, and Y/N's going to be president when he leaves, so most of the time they spend together now is just him prepping her. The last president did the same thing with Seonghwa," the guy continued.

"Also," another added. "If the president and the vice president didn't spend time together, I'd be concerned for the future of the department."

"True..."

"Wait, kid, why are you asking?"

"Oh, I just thought they seemed really close," Wonbin did his damn best to make sure he didn't stutter.

Most of the upperclassmen at the table accepted his response and turned to talk to each other, but the one Wonbin shared a drink with side-eyed him. He leaned towards Wonbin and whispered, "You like Y/N, don't you?"

Wonbin blushed furiously. His face betrayed him, but he still responded, "No!"

"Don't worry, kid. All of us have had some sort of crush on her at some point. She's just that charming— but it's never going to happen, so keep dreaming."

With that and a pat on his shoulder, the upperclassman turned to his peers, leaving Wonbin with his own thoughts. He ended up taking another shot by himself and nursed a beer while he tuned into the conversation at the table.

The normalcy lasted a grand total of five minutes before the girls who were harassing Wonbin earlier joined his new table. The upperclassmen tried to talk to the girls, but they kept expressing interest in a very exasperated Wonbin to the point where he was feeling claustrophobic. With a stroke of brilliance, Wonbin got out of his situation by excusing himself to "go to the bathroom," but instead of going to the bathroom, he went outside for some air.

Wonbin sighed deeply as he stood by the side of the establishment, his body beginning to relax as he focused on the dark sky above.

"Geez, that was a deep sigh."

His body immediately tensed again as he flinched when he heard your voice. You stood alongside him and waved at him while saying, "Hi, Wonbin."

"O-Oh my gosh," Wonbin managed to choke out a response while holding his heart. "Uh, hi..."

You giggled at his reaction, sending Wonbin's heart on another sprint. He felt his face get red hot again when he realized how close you were standing to him.

"You look a little tipsy," you commented when you saw his face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Wonbin said after clearing his throat. "I just needed to come out for air."

"Are you sure? Your face looks a little too flushed right now."

You gestured for him to get closer to you, which obviously, he did. You pressed your palm to his forehead, making Wonbin freak out internally even more. Even after all the hair ruffles, his heart still wasn't used to you making physical contact with him so casually. 

"You're so warm," you whispered.

"I d-don't have a fever..."

"I know you don't."

It was when you cupped his face and smiled softly at him did Wonbin realize that you were a little tipsy too, just like him. He truly froze when you brushed your thumbs along his cheekbones, his heart thudding wildly against his chest.

"You're so cute, Wonbin," you told him, making his already deep blush get way worse.

"T-Thank you... You're really pretty too—!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wonbin covered his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He was so surprised that he was being bold and honest with you because he really wasn't one to be like that sober. He was even more surprised when you giggled at his reaction.

"You're adorable, Wonbin."

Wonbin truly had no idea how his heart didn't just burst out of his chest when you kissed his cheek. Granted, it was the tiniest of pecks, but it was a freaking kiss from you for crying out loud. When the two of you made eye contact, something stirred within him. He had half a mind to surge forward and actually kiss you, but he didn't need to because you pulled his face towards you and kissed him first.

His arms went around your waist, and you held his shoulders as you kissed him over and over again, all the unspoken feelings between the two of you silently coming forward.

The interest was mutual... Thank God.

YOU held Wonbin's hand as you entered your apartment, your fingers laced with his. Neither of you had uttered a word about what just happened, but there was a silent understanding at least, and that's all you really needed for now.

When you got to the living room, you let go of his hand and sat down on the couch, Wonbin sitting right next to you. You felt your heart racing so fast that it was ready to take off for the moon when you saw the way he was looking at you.

"I, um... Can—" Wonbin cleared his throat and swallowed nervously. "Can I kiss you?"

Moments ago, he was kissing you as if the world would end if he stopped, and now he was sitting on your couch asking for permission? God, he was so fucking cute. You nodded and scooted the tiniest bit closer to him. Wonbin let out a tiny sigh of relief, a brief smile crossing his face as he cupped your face gently.

This time, the kiss was more sensual and passionate. It was only one, sweet kiss at first, followed by several more, the intensity of the kisses steadily raising as your emotions surged to the surface. There was a hint of urgency and intense desire emanating from him as he leaned into you, pushing you down so that you were laying on the couch.

Wonbin straddled you and sat upright to remove his shirt, his toned body glistening with a light layer of sweat. You were a little in awe as you observed the way he ran his fingers through his hair, his muscles getting more defined as he leaned back. You were staring so intently, in fact, that Wonbin subtly tried to cover his body.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"You're gorgeous, Wonbin."

The compliment made his face turn bright red. It seemed like he was getting shyer by the second, but you changed your opinion when he assumed a more dominant position. He trapped you on the couch and hovered above you, the twinkle in his eye slowly getting replaced by lust.

"I could say the same to you," he whispered.

He kissed you passionately, his hair tickling your cheeks the more he moved into you. His hand snuck under your shirt, and he trailed his fingernails up your torso until he held your ribs gently. You arched your back and pushed yourself towards him as you got slightly impatient; yet, his slow pace was turning you on even more.

Wonbin sat up again and helped you out of your shirt, and to save a little time, you unhooked and removed your own bra. Wonbin slightly gasped when got to see your bare body. He bit his lower lip and lowered himself again, his lips meeting yours, his chest slightly rubbing against yours. You let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands on your breasts. He massaged them as he moved his lips to your cheek. He trailed tender kisses along your cheek, down your neck, along your collarbone, and to your breast.

While he sucked and massaged your breasts, you couldn't help but think about how skilled he was— this definitely wasn't his first time, which made you a little more excited if you were being completely honest.

A soft moan left your lungs when you felt him press his knee in between your legs. He looked up at you with mild surprise. You maintained eye contact as you let out soft breaths in unison.

"I, um," you whispered. "I don't think I can wait any longer, Wonbin... I need you."

A dusty rose blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. He merely nodded and got off the couch. You sat up and were about to get off as well, only for Wonbin to outstretch his arms. Next thing you knew, he was carrying you to your bedroom, his hands supporting your legs and back while you hugged him.

Wonbin laid you down on the bed, and the second he did, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them along with your underwear off your waist. He pushed your legs up, his hands under your thighs, giving him a better view of your quivering pussy. You heard him sigh quietly but happily before leaving the smallest of kisses on your clit. He then ran his tongue up and down your folds slowly, his tongue teasing you every so often by pushing into your entrance. You bit your lower lip to keep from moaning and ran your fingers through Wonbin's hair as he spent more time between your legs.

"Oh, mmm, yes," you moaned blissfully. "Right there— Ngh— Yes..."

Your toes curled when Wonbin's nose brushed against your clit. You were slightly disappointed when he moved away from your cunt, but that disappointment quickly disappeared when he pushed two of his slender fingers into you. He fingered you at a slow, steady pace while moving closer to you. He planted his hand right above your shoulder and lowered himself so that your faces were mere centimeters apart.

"You're very sweet, Y/N," he whispered, sending tingles down your spine. "Would you like a taste?"

The words were sweet, but the context was so dirty that you felt your face heat up. You nodded, and Wonbin pressed his lips against yours briefly before lifting his head to see your reaction. Seconds later, he kissed you again, and he kept his lips locked with yours as he moved and curled his fingers inside you.

Just as you felt the tension building inside you, Wonbin added a third finger. He fingered you a little faster, making you whine and moan into his mouth.

"You like that, baby?"

Baby. Oh, fuck.

You gasped and pushed your head backwards into the mattress, your eyes fluttering as pleasure ran through you quickly like electricity. You bit your lower lip to keep from moaning loudly as you came, your cunt relaxing completely after you squirted all over Wonbin's hand and your bed.

You blinked tears and stars from your eyes when Wonbin moved away from you. It was when you saw him lick his fingers did you manage to clear the fog in your vision, your heart thudding wildly upon the sight of him tasting you like that.

"I told you— You taste so sweet," Wonbin chuckled, making your face get even hotter.

You made empty noises— you truly did not know how to respond to him because you were so shocked; what the hell happened to the shy, cute Wonbin you knew, and who was this Wonbin before you (not that you were complaining).

Wonbin started patting his pockets down, and you assumed he was in search of a condom. You reached for the handle on your nightstand and opened the drawer, Wonbin immediately spotting the condoms. He grabbed one, and before he tore it open, he paused and stared at it.

"Is something wrong?" you asked him.

"Huh? No," Wonbin shook his head. "It's nothing."

You knew that it definitely wasn't nothing, but you didn't even ponder the idea for long. Wonbin slipped out of his pants and revealed his hard on. His cock was so slender and pretty just like him, and honestly, your mouth started salivating upon seeing it.

How nice would it be if you could suck him off?

Wonbin wasted no time getting on the bed after rolling the condom on and pinning you down again. He moved so that he was between your legs, his cock brushing against your clit with a fleeting touch, making your body tingle. You bit your lower lip when he intentionally rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds, and you stifled your moan when you felt him enter you slowly. Wonbin, who was holding his breath as he pushed his cock into you, let out a tiny grunt when he was entirely inside you.

"You're so tight," Wonbin said with a slight laugh. "Fuck, you just feel so good, baby..."

Before you could even think about responding, Wonbin kissed you again. He moved his hands to your waist, and his fingers pressed into your skin as he rolled his hips into yours slowly, sensually. You heard his breathing hitch in between kisses every time his waist met yours. You could feel his cock throb inside you, and you could tell he was really trying his best to not cum.

You decided to tease him. You combed your fingers through his hair and rested your hands on the back of his neck, your fingers tickling the nape of his neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and you pushed your body upwards as you kissed him so strongly that even you saw stars.

Wonbin couldn't take it any longer. He sat up and tightened his grip on your waist, his hips hitting yours fast and hard. His breathing got shallower, and his soft groans got higher in pitch as he neared his climax. On his final thrust, he pulled your hips up slightly, the change in angle hitting your G-spot and making you cum immediately. You whimpered and bit your lower lip as white filled your vision, your hands clenching the bed sheets beneath you. Wonbin groaned softly, his cock twitching and quivering as his cum spurt into the condom.

You sighed and relaxed your body after Wonbin pulled out. He got off the bed and threw out the condom before disappearing from your room, confusing the shit out of you. He returned moments later for water for both you and him, and your heart skipped a beat. He handed you the glass and sat on the bed next to you. He rested his hand on the mattress and looked away from you as he drank his water. His attention quickly snapped to you, however, when you placed your hand on top of his.

"You know, when you called me baby," you told him. "I was really surprised."

"Oh— Do you not like that nickname?" Wonbin turned to face you completely, looking slightly guilty.

"No, I really liked it, actually..."

Wonbin's head snapped up, and a smile blossomed on his face. Your heart skipped yet another beat when he set his water aside to tuck stray hairs behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your ear.

"Alright, baby," he said with a playful tone. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Next time?" you questioned. "You mean next round."

Grinning, Wonbin took your water from you and set it aside. He laid you down and brushed his nose along your jawline before pressing his lips against yours softly, sweetly, tenderly.

YOU seriously wondered why the journalism department would hold a social on a weeknight. The next morning after you both woke up, Wonbin hurriedly left your place so he could go home and freshen up before heading for his first class— luckily his class was in the afternoon. You, on the other hand, scrambled to get your shit together in time for your morning class.

Truth be told, you couldn't stop thinking about Wonbin all day. You loved how tender and sweet he was with you. Sex with Seonghwa was fun for sure, but you definitely did want a more emotional connection with the person you were sleeping with.

You and Seonghwa agreed that you'd talk about your relationship, and after you did, technically nothing fucking changed. You were still friends, and you still fucked, it was just now he was a little more considerate of your feelings. You didn't feel like a sex toy anymore, but that obviously wasn't enough, though.

A smile lingered on your face as you went to the journalism department later that day to finish up some work done for the club. It was the end of the day, and there wasn't a soul on the floor— not a single soul except for Seonghwa, that is, and you fully ran into him the second you turned the corner.

Seonghwa didn't even give you the time to apologize for running into him. He immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you into the records room. Pinning you against the door, he stared right into your eyes, his gaze so sharp that it made you nervous as hell.

"You slept with Wonbin, didn't you?"

Your blood ran cold— you shouldn't have felt guilty, but it was the tone of Seonghwa's voice that made you feel bad.

"I don't know what you mean—"

Seonghwa cut you off by grabbing your face with one hand, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he pulled your face towards his.

"Spare me the runaround and just tell me the truth," he bit out. "You and I were supposed to meet after the social, but you and Wonbin disappeared. You slept with him, right?"

"...What if I did?"

"What the fuck, Y/N?!"

Seonghwa let go of you and walked away from you while running shaky fingers through his hair. He looked so frustrated, and you, again, felt guilty for no reason.

"I don't see what your fucking problem is, Seonghwa! We're still nothing but friends with benefits, so you really shouldn't care," you couldn't help but snap at him.

He whipped his head towards you, and you could see the exasperation on his face.

"Well, I do fucking care!"

"Because you want ownership over me, or because you like me?"

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. He couldn't find an answer. You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Face it, Seonghwa. You don't want to share me with anyone, but you don't get to make that choice because I'm not committed to you. Got it?"

On that note, you tried to leave, but Seonghwa was faster. He slammed the door shut with one hand, pinning you against the door yet again. His eyes searched yours as the two of you remained silent for a beat.

"Didn't we talk things through? Did that night mean nothing to you, then?" Seonghwa asked with slight accusation laced in his words.

"Talked things through?" you repeated, dumbfounded. "We're still just friends because you haven't made things official between us!"

"I thought we still didn't want to tell people about us, so I didn't say anything!"

"Telling people about us versus you actually telling me to my face that you want me to be your girlfriend, that you want us to be exclusive, are two separate things, Seonghwa!"

"I thought you knew that we were!"

"How could we be exclusive if neither of us said it out loud?!"

The two of you were trembling angrily at that point. Seonghwa still had you pinned against the door, and it seemed like he refused to budge. Silence filled the space between you, and you were the one to break it.

"Why are you doing this, Seonghwa?" you whispered. "What do you want?"

"I... I don't know," Seonghwa choked out. "Can we even be exclusive at this point?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have feelings for him, don't you? I mean, you wouldn't have fucked him if you didn't..."

"I can have feelings for more than one person, you know," you responded softly.

You held Seonghwa's gaze, your heart rate picking up speed the longer you stared at him. His eyes searched yours, his mouth slightly open as he searched for some words, any words.

"Then again," you decided to provoke him. "You're the one who told me not to catch feelings for you, so maybe I should—"

Seonghwa snapped. He held your throat, his fingers pressing with just the right amount of tension, and he kissed you roughly. He pushed you further into the door if at all possible, his other hand moving to your ass. Lust coursed through your body as you let yourself get swept away by him. You held his arms and kissed him back while gasping every so often.

Letting go of your throat, Seonghwa wrapped both arms around your waist and quickly moved you to one of the tables in the records room. He bent you over the table, your chest pressing into the wood. You yelped in surprise when Seonghwa quickly pulled your bottoms and panties down, leaving your ass and legs exposed. He chuckled and spread your folds, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Look at how wet you are for me," Seonghwa teased you as he pushed his thumbs slightly into your entrance. "I'm telling you, doll, you were made for me."

Seonghwa licked a stripe up your cunt, making you whimper. Suddenly, you covered your mouth as you realized there were probably cameras in the fucking room.

"S-Seonghwa, the cameras!" you hissed nervously.

"There are no cameras in the records room," Seonghwa said matter-of-factly. "You should know that by now. Looks like I need to teach you more lessons, huh?"

You gulped nervously— lessons didn't just mean education when it came to Seonghwa. You tried to push yourself up when you heard him rifling through his pockets in search of a condom, but he immediately pushed you back down, his hand pressing right between your shoulder blades.

"Don't even fucking try, doll face," Seonghwa stated, his voice getting lower. "You're not going anywhere yet."

Seonghwa found the condom and held onto it by biting the corner of the packet. He grabbed both of your arms before holding both your wrists in one hand and behind your back— there was no way you were getting up now.

As Seonghwa pulled his cock out and rolled the condom on, you spotted a pair of eerily familiar headphones on the shelf. You didn't have time to place it, though, because Seonghwa quite literally fucked the thought out of your brain when he swiftly entered you.

"Your pussy is swallowing my cock perfectly, doll," Seonghwa said as he bit back a grunt. Then, chuckling slightly, he continued "You're so tight... Fuck, you feel amazing..."

Your wrists were still firmly in Seonghwa's grasp, and he tugged your arms back slightly, forcing you to arch your back. He was moving at a relatively slow pace, but every time he snapped his hips into yours, your hips hit the table with an insane amount of force, making you cry with slight pain.

Just as you were about to tell Seonghwa that he was hurting you, you heard the door to the records room open. You and Seonghwa were in a blind spot from the entrance, so you had time to quickly separate, but Seonghwa refused to let you go. He covered your mouth with his free hand and shushed you.

The footsteps approached the two of you, and you were about to burst into tears because you were fucking mortified by the situation you were in. You didn't cry when the person turned the corner, but you did feel all the color drain from your face.

"I'm guessing you're here to grab your headphones, Wonbin?" Seonghwa greeted the boy so nonchalantly, acting as if his cock wasn't buried deep inside you.

"I— Oh— Um— Jesus, I—" Wonbin stuttered; he had no idea how to respond to the situation, and you didn't blame him because you had no fucking clue either.

"You look so surprised, Wonbin," Seonghwa laughed. "Is it because we're fucking in the records room, or because I'm the one fucking her?"

You desperately wanted to tell Seonghwa to shut the fuck up, but his hand was firmly planted on your face.

"I'm... I, uh," Wonbin chewed on his lower lip nervously. "I'll pretend I didn't see anything— I just want my headphones..."

"Aw, don't be like that. You should join us. It shouldn't be that weird since you've already slept with her once, right?"

You really wanted to pass away in that moment. You watched the tips of Wonbin's ears turn crimson red. Seonghwa finally uncovered your mouth and pulled out, but he kept you pinned down to the table as he gestured for Wonbin to approach.

"Seonghwa, what the fuck—"

"What?" Seonghwa interrupted you. "You said you can have feelings for more than one person, right? So why can't you be fucked by more than one person? Besides, I want to see for myself why you're so attracted to him."

You let out empty noises in response because how the fuck were you supposed to respond to something like that?

"What do you think, Wonbin? Wanna join in?"

The boy nodded slowly, surprising the shit out of you. You were about to tell him that he doesn't— that he shouldn't— when you saw the tent forming in his pants; and, as all men do, Wonbin was definitely thinking with his dick, and his dick wanted in.

"Great. Hop on the table for me, will ya?"

Wonbin hopped up on the table and tentatively pulled his cock out as Seonghwa instructed. Your mouth involuntarily watered— his cock was just so pretty, especially when it was hard and twitching.

Seonghwa didn't even need to tell you what to do; you did it yourself. You held the base of his cock, Wonbin flinching upon feeling your touch. You looked up at Wonbin, silently asking for approval, and waited for him to nod meekly before taking him into your mouth.

The second your lips went down his cock, Wonbin let out a soft moan. You looked up at him to see his eyes widen, his face getting redder by the development of the situation. To keep himself from moaning out loud again, Wonbin bit his knuckle and sighed deeply, only for his breathing to hitch when you started sucking him properly.

Upon seeing your head bob up and down, Seonghwa rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds and pushed himself back into you, making you moan and gag on Wonbin's cock. Wonbin's entire body jolted when he heard the noise from you. He let out a soft groan when you took all of him into your mouth, making him bite down on his knuckle harder.

You could hear Wonbin's breathing get heavier and whatever moans or groans that slipped past his finger get higher. You looked up to see his eyelids fluttering as he neared his orgasm. It was you hollowing out your cheeks that did it for him. With his free hand, he held your head in place before squeezing his eyes shut and cumming in your mouth.

"Be a good girl and swallow it," Seonghwa leaned over you and whispered in your ear. "We don't want to leave a mess here, now do we?"

And so, you swallowed Wonbin's cum. He covered his face in embarrassment, so you hit him with, "Now we're even."

He opened his mouth, presumably to ask what you were talking about, only for the realization to hit— he licked his fingers last night. Yep, you were even.

After hopping off the table, Seonghwa tossed a condom packet to Wonbin. He didn't have to say a single word for the younger man to know what to do. He ripped open the packet and put it on while Seonghwa moved you so that you were standing upright, his cock still inside you.

You were sandwiched between the beautiful men when Wonbin approached you. He lifted your leg and held your thigh to give him better access to your already full cunt while you held onto his shoulders. Before you could express any thoughts, he kissed you. Even though he distracted you, you still felt his cock push into you, and your hold on his shoulders got stronger. Both men stopped moving, allowing you to get somewhat comfortable with both cocks stuffed inside you and filling you up. Yet, the second they started moving, your cunt clenched, both of them flinching with the added pressure.

"Oh my God," Wonbin breathed out.

"Shit, I almost came," Seonghwa murmured.

They moved slowly, and to keep you relaxed before you snapped their dicks off, Wonbin kissed you. He rubbed your ear slowly, making every little movement so much more sensual. Whenever he bucked his hips up, he grunted slightly into the kiss.

Seonghwa decided to push his hands up your shirt as he fucked you from behind, and they went under your bra before massaging your breasts. You exhaled blissfully when his fingers toyed with your nipples, the overstimulation starting to get to you.

"Hey, don't just focus on him," Seonghwa said as he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck.

You broke off your chain of kisses with Wonbin and turned your head towards Seonghwa. You moved your hand to Seonghwa's head, your fingers getting tangled in his locks as you kissed him while you moved your other hand from Wonbin's shoulder to his neck.

When Wonbin's grip on your thigh got tighter, you knew that he was close again, so you turned back towards him and kissed him again, his gyrations getting faster.

"I'm— Fuck— I'm gonna cum," Wonbin uttered.

Before you got the chance to say anything, Seonghwa turned your head towards him and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his own thrusts got rougher. He didn't need to say anything, either— you knew he was close, too.

Both men snapped their waists into you, driving their cocks as far as they could into you, the two of them groaning and muttering profanities as their cocks throbbed inside you. They both remained motionless for a beat before Seonghwa pulled out first, Wonbin shortly thereafter. You whined slightly; now that you were no longer stuffed, you felt empty, and you needed them back inside you. Plus, they had yet to make you cum.

You for sure thought they were going to replace their condoms or at least eat you out, so you were completely dumbfounded when you saw them straightening out their clothes and fixing their hair.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" you irritatedly asked.

"...Getting dressed?" they both answered at the same time, making them both look at each other with slight surprise.

"We're not done here! What about me?"

Both men froze and blinked at you for a split moment before Wonbin approached you from one side and Seonghwa stood right in front of you.

"You're right, we do have unfinished business," Seonghwa murmured in agreement. "What do you think we should do, Wonbin?"

"Let's go back to her place and pick up where we left off," Wonbin suggested before pressing a kiss against your temple. "After all, there's a whole box of condoms left in that drawer.

Oh shit— What the hell have you done?

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[ham1lton]

semi charmed kinda life!

pairings: jenson button x driver!reader.

warnings: smut at the end. please don’t say i didn’t warn you.

summary: simple story. girl meets boy. boy is her older brother’s best friend. boy is off limits. then boy sees her all sweaty post race. you know the rest.

author’s note: quick request! i combined two requests into one :) wrote this on the train and i’m home now! hope u all enjoy <3 it’s very long :(

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

jenson didn’t consider himself to be easily distracted. when he was younger, absolutely. if a pretty girl winked at him or he saw a gorgeous vintage car, it could easily turn his head. yet, now he was in his forties, he liked to think he was pretty indestructible.

jenson knew you, of course he did. he was best friends with your older brother. they had met as they both karted when they were younger and when your brother had decided he wanted to go to university and have a normal job, they had kept the friendship going.

however, he didn’t interact with you a lot. he only knew you as the determined kid who drove circles around your brother.

that was all he knew, that you were really good and really busy. you lived up to your hype as you eventually became the first female f1 driver to win a championship. you didn’t race at the same time as jenson did, as there was a noticeable age gap between the two of you, and now as you’re nearing your late twenties, you’re also reaching your peak.

you easily land first place as you take off your helmet and shake your hair free. you smile and hug your team as they all encircle you as best they can. you looked radiant, winning looked natural on you.

jenson couldn’t stop looking at you. it was like a switch set off in his brain. y/n was hot? had you always looked like that?

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

as the crowd began to disperse, you caught sight of jenson standing off to the side. your smile widened and you made your way over to him. “jenson, hey! it’s been a while,” you said, pulling him into a friendly hug.

“y/n, congrats. that was an incredible race,” he replied, trying to keep his tone cool and casual.

“thanks. it feels surreal, honestly,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i never thought i’d get here.”

“you’ve earned it,” jenson said, meaning every word. “you’ve always been talented.”

“coming from you, that means a lot.” you said, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and … something else? but before he can think too hard, it’s gone and your assistant is by your shoulder. you look apologetic as you turn to go.

“say hi to your family for me.” jenson calls out after you. desperate for another second of your attention. you turn around and give him a wink.

“course i will. you’re practically a l/n now jenson.” you laugh, as you head into the garage, leaving him grinning after you like a little kid again.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

later that evening, jenson found himself at the hotel bar, nursing a drink. it wasn’t as strong as he’d usually like it but it was enough.

the place was buzzing with post-race energy, filled with drivers, team members, and fans celebrating the day's events. he glanced around, half-expecting to see you among the revellers. just as he took another sip, you walked in, and he nearly choked on his drink.

you looked incredible. gone was the racing suit, replaced by a sleek dress that hugged your curves perfectly. your hair was styled effortlessly, and the confidence you exuded was even more noticeable now. you scanned the room, your eyes landing on jenson. a smile spread across your face as you made your way over.

"jenson, hi. mind if i join you?" you asked, your voice carrying over the noise of the bar.

"sure, please," he replied, hoping he sounded more composed than he felt.

you took the seat next to him, ordering a drink. he noticed you didn’t get an alcoholic one. "crazy day, huh?"

"definitely. you were amazing out there," jenson said, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice.

"thanks. it still feels like a dream," you said, your eyes meeting his.

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that speaks volumes. jenson felt a rush of nerves, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. he was used to being in control, but you had a way of making him feel like a teenager with a crush.

"so, what's next for you?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. he turns towards you.

"celebrate tonight, then back to training tomorrow," you replied, laughing softly. "no rest for the wicked."

“i don’t miss that part.” he laughs, taking another sip and not ignoring the way your eyes watch him.

“what about you? mr button.” you say, crossing your legs. “what’s next for you?”

“now my racing days are behind me?” you nod. “commentating, business, mentoring and a bunch of other things. trying a bit of everything before i die.”

“sounds like you have your hands full.” you raise an eyebrow. “still, i bet you miss the track.”

“every day,” he admitted. “but it’s also nice to watch the next generation take over. like you.”

“you like watching me?”

“who doesn’t?” jenson smiles ruefully, like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

you finished your drink quickly, and looked at your watch. you sigh. jenson’s heart sank slightly, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“i suppose i should get some rest. early day tomorrow.”

“oh, yeah, of course. don’t want to keep you up.”

“unless, would you like to join me?”

his pulse quickened as you looked at him. he smiled.

“i’d like that.”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you kissed as well as you drove. firmly, and in control. weird analogy but jenson’s brain was always in driving mode, even as you slid your hand into his pants. okay, maybe not then.

you grin into the kiss as he holds you tighter. he runs a hand through your hair as your hands encircle him. he breaks the kiss as he stands back for a second and wipes off your smeared lipgloss, he kisses you again enthusiastically as your grip on him tightens.

“god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” he moans as you stroke him.

“yeah?” you break the kiss to help him get undressed and for a moment, you enjoy the contrast of your clothed self versus his nakedness. “you thought about this?”

“maybe.” he has the audacity to look slightly sheepish as if that isn’t the hottest thing he could have said to you. your childhood crush is in front of you, admitting that he thinks you’re hot and that he’s fantasised about you. you drop to your knees as he gently puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail with his hand. the response he gives as you go down on him is more than enough to have your legs pressing together.

“wait! wait.” he says, breathlessly. you stop and look up at him with curious eyes. “i’m gonna cum if you continue. don’t have the same refractory period as i did when i was younger sweetheart. let me return the favour, yeah?”

you smile, all innocence, as your brother’s best friend peels the dress that you were wearing off your body. thank god you had prepared for this opportunity, you had worn your sexiest lingerie in the chance that this happened tonight. jenson kisses you harder, and you know he likes it.

after a moment, he’s between your legs and what’s left of your makeup is smudged. you’re at least seventy percent sure that your mascara has left your eyelashes and moved all over your cheeks. he’s gently pressing kisses to your clit through your panties, which are already wet with your arousal. he starts to lick at you slowly, through the material. he continues for a while, tongue pressed against you as you languidly grind your hips against his face. but it isn’t enough.

“jenson, please do something.” you cry out.

“i am doing something.” he smiles, faux innocence plastered all over his handsome face. he presses a finger against you, and removes it covered in your arousal. “she clearly likes it.”

“do it properly.”

“say the magic word, miss race winner.”

“please.” you sob. “please, please, please! is that good enough for you?”

“i was going to get you off regardless sweetheart.” jenson grins and you want to smack him, but then he peels off your panties and breathes in your arousal. before his face dives into your cunt, pressing his nose against your clit as he gathers your juices with his tongue. he enters a finger to stretch you open as you dig your hands into his greying hair to pull him closer between your thighs.

he adds a second finger, and then a third, and the stretch is delicious. he focuses his tongue on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. you knew you were close as you could feel the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. almost like he knew, he started curling his fingers inside of you and letting you grind down even harder on his face.

when you came, you swore you could see stars.

jenson lets you ride his face through the aftershocks, and then he looks up at you, grinning, his chin still wet with your arousal.

“told you you’d cum.”

“yeah, yeah.” you wave him off breathlessly. “let me get you off.”

“i’m an easy man.” jenson shrugs as he moves up on top of you. “anyway you’ll let me have you, i’ll enjoy it.”

“i want you in me.”

the burn of him entering you is a welcome one. you thank god he prepped you well, it had been a while since you’d had sex and you needed the extra wetness. you can’t even focus on what he’s saying as he fucks into you. everything blurs as you watch him, you’re more focused on how sexy he looks and how good it feels. he kisses all over your neck and your lips.

“look at you.” he groans as he fucks into you harder. your back arches as he takes a nipple in his mouth. your heels dig into his lower back.

you can feel your oncoming orgasm as jenson presses a lazy thumb against your clit and when he looks down in wonder at his cock fucking into your messy cunt, your world goes white as you gush all over him. he fucks you through the aftershocks until he finds his own orgasm, body collapsing onto yours as you hold him close, stroking his sweaty hair.

“you okay? was that good for you?” you ask after a moment. he laughs breathlessly.

“you couldn’t be bad for me. i could have gotten off just lookin’ at you.” he turns to grin at you. “you were great. 10/10.”

“thanks,” you smile and press a kiss against his lips. “coming from you, that means a lot.”

his laughter rumbles through his chest and you can feel the vibrations. you can’t help but laugh too.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by bestie, ynswifey and 1,293,902 others.

yourusername: what’s better than one world champion? two.

view all 234,937 comments

user1: WHAT THE FUCK

user2: I CALLED IT

user3: mommy and daddy.

-> user7: all these bitches are their sons fr

user4: threesome perhaps? :)

-> user9: i need them both carnally.

user12: omggggg bagging her childhood crush AND another championship. yn ur MY goat.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

taglist: @23victoria @c-losur3 @imsiriuslyreal @f1withleire @kamabokogonpachro @sya-skies @dark-night-sky-99 @handsupforamiracle @lichterfee @namgification

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

<- Previous -> Next

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.  

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[lazyjellyfish300]

Jelly...... Pookie... Love.

I have another fluff idea.

Miguel sneaking out of HQ to see his wife (that worked with him at Alchemax) and cuddle with her.

Jess and Peter B. notice that Miguel has been sneaking out and want to know where is he going so they investigate (optional: Miles, Pav, Gwen and Hobie join in) because Lyla doesn't say anything (she ain't a snitch) and just discover Miguel showering his wife with love-

"Te amo mi vida"

[I love you my life (endearment word)]

"Brillas más que las estrellas"

[You shine brighter than the stars]

*Sobs* 😭

Oh my God I'm so sorry this took me a sec. Hope it was worth the wait. 🫶🏽 Thanks Pookie 🖤 my final request from the 1 year anniversary and they're all done.😩 (Everyone cheered)

Let me tell you it's probably gonna be a sec before I open them again because I am not strong enough 😂 I'm working on Gentleman part 5 then I'll do the Woman He Didn't Choose. 🫶🏽 My hyperfixation with Miggy is experiencing an ebb, so I'm trying not to burn myself out and let the inspiration come naturally so I don't lose it entirely, I hope y'all understand. thank you for being patient.

PLEASE REBLOG, and if you can't, then at the very least please COMMENT! 🖤 Even if it's just emojis. Your meaningful interaction is what keeps more content coming. 🫶🏽

Running Away From the World With You🌠💘

Miguel O'Hara x Fem Wife!Reader

CW: a little suggestive, MINORS DNI, fluff, crack.

Word Count: 2.1k 🖤

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

-----

Miguel is missing. MIA. Gone. Seemingly without a trace. The man had his bouts of brooding and mystery, or seasons where he'd withdraw a little more than usual. He wasn't dubbed the Batman of Spider-People for no reason. But something about his absence this time was odd. 

One thing about Miguel is he'd sooner watch all of the High School Musical movies back to back on a loop than leave his ship without a rudder. His neglect to tell even his second in command and one of his most trusted people, Jess, was quite out of the ordinary. 

She was the first to notice from his blank screens and the coffee pot in the break room that was normally on batch #3 by the time 10 am rolled around. Instead, it sat untouched and coffee-less.

She went through a list in her head, dotting her I's  and crossing her t's but, she couldn't think of anything. Miguel going radio silent like this was simply unheard of, like Peter B. un-bigging his back. 

Speaking of...

----

"Peter?" Jess elbows the tall man next to her in the cafeteria who's going to town on the all you can eat french toast special.  

"MMm-yeah?" Peter B.  struggles with a mouth stuffed with a syrupy bite of French toast with bacon and scrambled eggs wrapped inside(a combination of his own devise) which he almost came close to wearing on the front of his pink fuzzy robe a few times. 

"Have you seen Miguel yet today?" 

Peter pauses, as though he had never been asked that question before in his entire life, bringing a finger to his chin and tapping in contemplation. 

"Y know, I haven't." He says after a moment. "Why do you ask?" 

"I haven't either. In fact, he hasn't seen or spoken to anyone all morning." 

Peter nods, halfway listening, most of his attention occupied by the syrupy goodness on his plate, obnoxious chewing noises coming out of him. 

"He didn't even have coffee this morning." 

Obnoxious chewing noises cease, and Peter B. looks at her, frozen mid-chew as the next bite he has on his fork falls back onto the plate with a wet plop. 

Oh, it's that serious. 

---

"Alright, where is she, little hologram I know you're listening...." Jess mutters, keying in a few passwords experimentally to Miguel's monitors, the authentication failing numerous times with several loud error beeps. 

Lyla regenerates next to Jess's ear, legs crossed. "Might I ask what you're doing?" 

"Lyla! Where's Miguel? I'm trying to get a location on him. Haven't heard from him at all this morning." 

Lyla isn't listening, turning her attention to her nails with a smirk, the boss's unknown whereabouts seeming to be of little urgency to her at the moment. 

Jess narrows her eyes. "Lyla?!" 

"Hmm, wha-?"

"I'm trying to save the multiverse, and the leader of the whole organization holding it together is in danger and you're acting remarkably nonchalant!" 

"Who said he was in danger?" Lyla hums boredly. 

Jess pauses. "So you do know where he is?" 

"I know that he's not in danger, not where he is." Lyla tries to sidestep the question

"Lyla?" 

"Oh would you look at that- ksssht, signal- kssht- getting weak -ksssht, Wi-Fi's going out again -kssssht -kssssht ksssht!!" Lyla feigns a glitching connection, despite remaining perfectly calibrated where she's floating. 

"Lyla....." Jess is not amused, but Lyla disintegrates entirely as though someone switched her off with a TV remote. 

Jess groans loudly, ripping Peter B. out of his mindless fixation with a random Funko Pop sitting on Miguel's desk. 

"Guess it's time to enact Project M&M." 

Peter B. raises his eyebrows. 

"Stop thinking with your stomach, Peter. Missing Miguel." 

"M&M mentioned!!" 

Miles Morales ricochets seemingly out of thin air from the ceiling, stopping abruptly, causing Pavitir who's bounding in behind him to smack into him like a domino, groaning as he holds his stomach with the wind temporarily knocked out of him. 

"You called?" Miles leans his elbow on Miguel's desk. 

"Hi Miles." Jess says with just a slight shred of irritation. No wonder Miguel's always pissed off, dealing with these spider folk and their little wisecracks all the time was enough to almost make her feel like she needed a drink (not literally since she's almost 8 months pregnant), but that was saying a lot.  

"I appreciate your eagerness, but I'm afraid M&M in this case is referring to Miguel being missing, not you." Jess clarifies. 

"Oh." Miles looks at the ground in defeat once again. 

"What are you guys talking about?" Gwen strolls in, followed by Hobie with his hands stuffed in his denim jacket pockets. 

"Sounded like a Might and Magic reference." Hobie remarks casually. 

"Y'all!" Jess rubs her temples. "There is no M&M's, Miles Morales, (sorry Miles),  or Magic the gathering or whatever obscure, ridiculous reference y'all think of next! We have an entire multiverse without a leader. I need your help to locate Miguel before M&M turns into massive migraine and I manhandle you misfits for making me lose my marbles! Capisce?!" 

A record scratches and everyone nods with a muttered, "Yes Jess," as they shuffle obediently in a line. 

"Yes Jess, sorry Jess." Pav apologizes in shame. 

Jess sighs deeply "It's okay Pav." (Pav was low-key Jess's favorite). 

"Alright y'all." Jess stands back as she activates her watch, opening a portal.

"Follow me."

-----

And so, the group of Spiders went off in search of their beloved, fearless leader. 

Jess and Peter B. teamed up, but ended up getting stuck in endless timeshare presentation hell after Peter fell for the marketing pitch when one of the salesmen apprehended them at the local shopping mall. 

 "Jess! This nice, well dressed  gentleman is telling me you can rent to own one of these little condominiums in St. Lucia for just a yearly maintenance fee of $275!!" 

"Those are scams, Peter..."

"You and hubby could use a little vacation before baby Drew arrives right?" 

"No, I'm good. Peter?....Peter?! Wait!" 

Before she ran off to join her gullible partner in crime who was already being reeled in with a complimentary bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos and a cold Diet Coke. 

-----

Meanwhile, Miles, Hobie, Pav, and Gwen wandered aimlessly around Nueva York, keeping their eyes and ears mostly peeled for traces of their grumpy boss. 

"If I was a Miguel, where would I hide?" Miles strokes his chin thoughtfully as though he had a long beard. 

Pav hatches an idea. "Oh, maybe he went to the movies!" He points at the movie theater across the street. 

"Good thinking, Pav!" Miles squints, assessing the movie posters. "Maybe he's at this show called, Magic Mike?" 

"Oh, um, that's not..." Gwen bares her teeth awkwardly as she hastily steers Miles back towards the original path they were on. 

"Wait, what's wrong with it? Isn't it like one of those shows where those magicians pull a rabbit out of a hat or they chop someone in half but it's all pretend?" 

"I'll tell you later." Gwen sighs. 

"Hmm, maybe he's at My Melody." Hobie nods in the direction of a Hello Kitty Sanrio store across the street. 

"Ooh! Can we please go inside? I need to buy Gayatri an anniversary present." Pav taps his fingers together excitedly. (Truth is he also wanted a Keroppi plushie for himself) 

"GUYS!" Gwen huffs. "I think the whole "M&M" reference was just a play on words and Jess didn't mean it literally. I doubt he's actually at a place that starts with M."

Hmmm. 

The group pauses, trying to put their heads together.

"Oh, maybe he's at this tall scientific looking building where that fancy sports car is parked." Pav points to a black sports car with a license plate that had "VMPIR3 NINJA SPDRMN" scrawled across it. 

"Alchemax? Of course!" Gwen straightens up, pulling her mask over her face as she webs in its direction, with the gang followed closely behind her. 

-----

On the roof of Alchemax tucked in a shaded corner is a hammock spun from red, futuristic style webs hanging from one end of a water tower to another.

In it, is Miguel with you, his precious wife, cradled against his chest in his old lab coat from his days when he worked there, O'Hara stitched in black lettering on the breast pocket. 

Truth is, Miguel needed a damn break. Typically he can power through his discomfort and exhaustion of the work week, but, after dealing with one Spider-Ham too many that morning, he said fuck it and went off to find you, the one person who could grant him solace in an anomaly and chaos-filled multiverse. 

He pauses, letting the tops of his fingers linger just behind your neck, before he trails them so slowly down your back, halting at the halfway point where he spins them in graceful figure eights, before they wander down to the curve of your ass, giving it a squeeze. 

"Miguel..." You chastise him with a breathless giggle, feeling the heat in your body rise hotter and hotter when he starts softly kissing your neck. "We're.... shit ... we're technically in public..." 

"Shh...." Miguel continues teasing you with his lips. "A man can't love on his wife after a stressful week?" 

"Of course....he can...mmhhnnn....but..." 

"But nothing..." Miguel nips at the skin on your neck, drawing out a lengthy sigh. "Te amo mi vida..." (I love you my life)

"Yo también te amo, mi amor, pero...(I love you too my love, but)....I gotta get back, I have a meeting in 10..." 

Your breathy pleas turn to uncontrollable giggles when Miguel holds your chin in his fingers, trying to kiss every square inch of your cheeks. 

"Cancel it. You have a new meeting with your husband. They'll understand." 

"Oh okay. Let me just tell Osborn that word for word. Can you imagine the look on his face?" 

Miguel smirks. "No." He leans back in, whispering in your ear as his thumb teases your bottom lip. "Rather not think of that old man anyway when I'm trying to love on my wife..." 

"Miguel..." 

"Mmmm...eres tan hermosa, mi alma. Brillas más que las estrellas..." (you're so beautiful my soul, you shine brighter than the stars) 

You whine, all but melting by now as he steadily wins you over with one lingering kiss to your pulse point at a time. 

"Flattery will get you everywhere..." You murmur as you nuzzle your face against his. 

Miguel pulls back a little, a smug look on his face as he gazes down at you underneath him.

"And you say I'm the workaholic..." He presses his forehead against yours with a feeble sigh.

"You met your match when you married me." You tease him, interlocking your fingers with his. Miguel brings your hand closer, looking at your wedding ring with fondness. 

"Indeed I did. My perfect match in every way." He softly kisses the sizeable diamond in the middle, before he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. 

"Can Mrs. O'Hara spare me 5 more minutes of her precious time?" 

You smile, pulling him closer. "Of course she can." 

----

From a short distance away, the makeshift squad of project M&M watches the sickeningly adorable scene that they so unfortunately stumbled upon between their boss and you, his wife. 

"Lovely, I'm gonna go vomit." Gwen turns around. 

"Quite enough for one day, innit? By the way, I was never here with you freaks." Hobie turns around with a bored expression, lamenting over his wasted morning all for an anticlimactic conclusion of his boss who apparently just wanted to play hooky, even though he loved to get on Hobie's case about putting in more hours. 

"They're so in love. And what was that line about the stars? So poetic, I feel like I'm interrupting something." Pav watches with his hands across his heart, tiptoeing away to catch up with Hobie. 

"Wait, he's married?!" Miles is just starting to piece together the information. 

"Let's go, Miles!" Gwen called after him. 

"So wait, you're telling me Miguel knows how to pull a woman?" 

"Miles! Come. On." 

"Nah nah! Because you're telling me he asked a woman out on a date. Said woman agreed to the date, and then she went out with him on another date? And then she married him?!" 

 

"Miles. Just drop it." 

----

The gang was off, leaving you and your husband alone to soak in your final five minutes of cuddle time as you promised, far off in another dimension of your own making, the fabric of your little universe comprised of the quiet love between you, and your faithful Spider-Man by your side. 

----

🖤

[fancyfade]

Thinking of lonely place of dying and the way Tim is introduced to the audience and it's interesting that he's like. Ok so obviously he's the stalker fanboy but once he's interacting with batman and nightwing he's very.... hmm I guess asking permission? Like he does not go in saying "i want to be robin". He makes it clear that's not what his goal is. "I never wanted this for myself". And I did just reblog my post I wrote the second time I re-read lonely place of dying (link) which talked about the ways that the information presented to the audience about Tim in his intro plot is definitely played safe and intended to make the audience like his character, and I think that does contribute to it. He's not read as demanding or arrogant, which are often disliked by readers*. He puts his actions before the approval of established characters the audience likes.

And I do wonder if that's like.... part of what makes Damian's intro contrast so heavily to Tim's. Damian definitely wants Batman's approval, but he does not try to get it in a socially acceptable way in Batfam or non-assassin society. And he whereas Tim is generally polite and respectful to other Batfam members, admiring Dick and listening to Alfred, Damian is again the opposite. He cusses out Alfred and at one point knocks him out to get into the Batcave, he attacks Tim to take his place.

And while I like both characters, I definitely lean towards liking Damian's intro better. I don't even know how to explain it lol. I don't really think the plot is stronger, I generally am unimpressed with Morrison's plots at the best of times. But there just is something fascinating to me about a kid who wants approval yet cannot do anything 'right' according to the people who are in charge of giving that approval, and I reaaaaaally want to re-read Damian's intro now and do a framing analysis break down like I did for lonely place of dying. What information is presented to the reader? and see where my thoughts go from there.

I definitely know for a fact that many people are annoyed Damian is arrogant** or rude, and I do think that being presented as an unpalatable character who beefs with characters the audience already likes got him a lot of hate.

*not me tho. bring in all the demanding arrogant characters :P

**one of his best qualities

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 17: Let Me Forget

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.4K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

With the medley of parchment laid out on Gale’s lengthy kitchen table, the silence hangs heavily over the room, suffocating the air with an oppressive stillness and unspoken words. The only sound is the angry rain, drumming on the grand, arched windows, and the raging wind that buffets the manor with forceful gusts. 

It is a foreboding sound. You have never been afraid of storms; you enjoyed watching them before, but you find yourself closing your eyes at every quaking groan of Gale’s tower and every rattle of the windows as they hold out against the blustery squalls. 

Gale finally takes one piece of parchment and examines it. His brows furrow, and he rubs his chin. Eventually, his eyes flit up to Astarion. 

“Dal’s.” Astarion sighs, answering the unasked question. Wracking his fingers through his hair, he points to each piece. “Petras’s. Yousen’s. Violet’s.” 

Shadowheart’s voice is softer than normal when she speaks. “Where are your siblings, Astarion?” 

“In the Underdark, as far as I know.” He shrugs. “I never returned to see them.” 

Your hand coasts over the indented, scarred skin of your arm from the time you visited the Underdark. “They were in the Underdark. They were using the Arcane Tower as a home.” 

“You saw them?” Astarion asks. “All of them?” 

“Dal, Petras, and Leon were definitely there, as well as the spawn we set free.” Your fingernails bite into your scars as you try to repress the memory. “I’m not sure about the others.” 

“Did they say anything?” Astarion turns to you with his speech a little more rapid than usual. “Anything at all?” 

“It was many moons ago, Astarion. They weren’t interested in talking to me much, but no, they never mentioned someone was hunting them or requesting to sketch their scars.” 

“Why do they have scars written in Infernal?” Hecat’s brows furrow as she regards the symbols. “It’s pieces of a contract.” 

“We know.” Shadowheart says brusquely. “We know what it says and what it’s about. What we don’t understand is why it’s here.” 

“Do you have scars like this, Astarion?” Hecat asks carelessly. 

Your whole body immediately tenses, but you master yourself and attempt to appear unruffled by her inquisition. Astarion is capable of deciding how to answer this for himself. 

“I do,” he nods. “A… gift from my old master.” 

“Who must be dead?” Hecat presumes, still trying to make sense of everything. You’re not sure how much you want her to know. “Since you’re here and all, and still a spawn.” 

“Yes, he’s dead.” Astarion answers calmly, but he subtly rests his hand on your thigh, and you realize his fingers are trembling. 

Taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes back while breathing deeply. It is not something you’re used to seeing him do unless he’s trying to calm you. It alerts you to his unease, setting you further on edge. 

“I suppose I will ask the question none of us want to.” Shadowheart surmises with her lips pressed together and a clenched jaw. “Why are Astarion's siblings' scars drawn on pieces of paper we found in a manor hidden by illusion magic?” 

You frown and chew on your bottom lip. “Is it possible that another Vampire Lord can try to fulfill the contract?” 

Gale shakes his head. “We destroyed everything that even dared hint at that ungodly ritual.” 

“We destroyed the paper trail.” You nod and glance at Astarion. 

“But not the pawns of it.” He finishes, looking down at his lap. “The only people living who might be able to tell someone how to complete the ritual are my siblings, me, and all of you.” 

“Hells.” Gale rasps, his hand rubbing his forehead. “Do you really think that’s what this is all about?” 

“It makes sense,” you murmur. “But what we don’t know is if they are trying to collect the spawn that are already marked for sacrifice or if they simply need the markings on them.” 

“Either way, they will collect them.” Astarion concludes bitterly, with one corner of his lips curling up in contempt. “Likely to make sure no one else has access to those markings. Furthermore, the spawn we set free in the Underdark will be rounded up as well. A Vampire Lord is not going to waste time making 7,000 spawn if there are already that many running around in the Underdark who have been conveniently carved up already. Gods. I knew I should have killed them.” 

“So, what do we do?” Gale paces around, clearly agitated. “What can we do?” 

“There are still two of Astarion’s siblings unaccounted for.” You sit back in your chair. “Maybe Astarion and I should visit the Underdark. If they are rounding up his siblings, maybe we can get to them before they do.” 

“And bring them where, exactly?” Astarion spits, twisting in his chair to look at you. “Certainly not here.” 

“Not here, but maybe our house?” Astarion’s brows pinch together, and his mouth snaps shut. You continue, “It’s well hidden; they can hunt in the forests, and it’s already set up for the particular needs of a vampire.” 

You’re not particularly fond of the idea of letting them stay in your house. It feels like an encroachment, but it is the best idea you have right now. Judging from Astarion’s sour expression, he, too, is not pleased with it. 

“Kamena…” Gale’s hands rest on the back of a chair, and he looks at you with his expression clouded by somberness. “I don’t wish to overstep, my friend, but are you certain it’s a good idea for you to return there?” 

Astarion quirks a brow at you, and your hand moves to cover the scars everyone is now staring at. You ignore the urge to get as far away from this conversation as you can and take deep breaths. Admittedly, you don’t want to return there, but you don’t want to stay here either. 

If you’re being completely honest, you would take Astarion, disappear, and never look back. If this Vampire Lord is truly after the contract in an attempt to complete the ritual, then Astarion is in peril staying here. You should be getting him as far away from here as you can.

But you cannot leave your friends, who are now tangled up in this mess. 

“Thank you for your concern, Gale, but I’m fine.” You lie, and you’re rather impressed that you manage to keep your voice steady and strong. “What do you think, Astarion?” 

“I think the more of my siblings we can keep away from them, the better, but I do not relish taking you into a den of vampire spawn who are likely feral.” Astarion rubs his eyes, squeezing them shut hard, creasing the corners. “Perhaps it would be best if I went alone.” 

The thought of Astarion leaving makes your heart thud in your chest, seizing and being crushed under his words. He promised he would never leave you alone again, and now he’s trying to. 

You try to breathe deeply, but the air seems unfathomably thin, and you feel like you’re drowning. Your eyes feel frozen open, just staring at the table but not really looking at it. 

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave.  

He wants to leave me alone again.  

Would he ever come back? 

Does he want to come back?

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to gag that voice in your head that tells you to run, to break his heart before he can break yours, and to repress the whirling thoughts of loneliness, abandonment, and dread. 

Is this just his way of trying to get away from me?  

“Kamena?” Astarion touches your shoulder featherlight, but it still makes you jump up. 

Your chair falls backward and clatters to the floor, and you stare the confused faces at the table. You ball your hands into fists at your sides so that they can’t see how badly you’re trembling.

“Excuse me.” 

It takes considerable effort to force yourself to walk down the hallway as nonchalantly as you can, but as soon as you get out of sight, you pick up speed and jog to your room. No matter how hard you try, the panic continues to grow like thorny vines around your nerves, and your breath comes rapidly through parted lips. 

You need a distraction from this downward spiral, so you grab the lock and thieves’ tools Astarion gave you to practice and draw a bath. Sitting in the tub, you listen to the soothing sound of running water, place the lock on a stool, kneel and hunch over the edge, and start trying to replicate what Astarion has shown you. 

Your fingers still tremble fretfully with both tools in hand, and you cannot, for the life of you, find the first pin in this stubborn hunk of metal. Even as your trembling settles and your mind stops its incessant whirling, you cannot get the stupid lock to turn even slightly.  

How many times has Astarion shown me this?  

Would he give you a defective lock you never had any chance of opening? Yes, you think he would. He would find that to be quite humorous once you figured it out. You peer into the keyhole to see if any of the mechanisms look... Well, fuck. You’re unsure what you should even be looking for, and you frown at the lock with spite. 

“You are staring at that lock like it has personally offended you.” Astarion chuckles, leaning his shoulder on the frame of the archway. 

“It has,” you grumble. “It will not fucking open!” 

“May I join you?” Astarion points to the bath. 

You nod, continuing to try to manipulate the lock while he undresses and slips behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and he presses the sculpted planes of his chest into your back, hovering over you to watch your incompetent attempts while he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“I can veritably hear you scowling at me, you know.” 

“Hells below.” Astarion groans dramatically. “This is truly painful to observe.” 

His arms come around you, and his cool hands grip yours as his expert fingers guide the tools in your hand to demonstrate again. He turns the tools slowly, performing some sort of Rogue devilry, you’re quite sure, until you feel a small pop and hear a metal clink. 

“Feel that?” Astarion glances at you, kissing your cheek. “That’s what you’re looking for.” 

He relinquishes his control and goes back to resting his head on your shoulder with his arms tangled around your waist. He murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone again,” you say shakily, swallowing the burbling fear. You hate how pathetic you sound. “Where you go, I go. Remember?” 

“The Underdark is dangerous — far more dangerous now than it was when we went gallivanting down here.” 

You hold your scarred arm out for him to see before going back to tending to the lock. The distraction is helpful, allowing you to focus instead of spiralling. “I’m well aware of how dangerous it is down there now.” 

Astarion’s hand glides down your arm, his fingers brushing over each indented blemish gently. “Are you going to tell me what in the Hells happened down there?” 

“I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “The short version of it is that the spawn down there are feral and starved, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“I suspect there is far more to it than that.” Astarion rubs your back in soothing circles, kissing the back of your shoulder softly. “Alright, fine. Where I go, you go, and vice versa from now on, yes?” 

You glance over your shoulder into crimson eyes. “Promise?” 

He sweeps a lock of your hair back from your cheek and places his hand on his chest, above his heart. “You have my word.” 

You nod with a small smile and return to the lock in your hands before your mind can whisper and pull you under into a riptide of doubt. Astarion brushes his fingers through your hair, untangling any knots as he goes gently. It is entirely distracting, and one of the sharp tools slips from your grasp.

“Focus, darling,” he tuts, picking up the tool off the floor and handing it back to you. 

“I think this lock is faulty,” you huff in annoyance. 

Astarion has always made lockpicking look like child’s play. Most locks take him a matter of seconds to pick; even the ones in the Counting House only took minutes at the most. 

“Do you really think I would do that to you?” Astarion laughs when you quirk an accusatory brow at him over your shoulder. “Fine. Fine. I might for a laugh, but I assure you, this lock is perfectly fine. You’re just too impatient.” 

You groan, rolling your eyes, and take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. A low growl of frustration rumbles in your chest as the tool catches on something and refuses to budge. 

Astarion chuckles as he takes control once more to correct the position of your fingers. “You cannot just brute force it like some barbarian. You must be patient, focus, listen to it, and tend to its unique needs.” His fingers brush the back of your hand softly. “Much like making love.” 

“For the love of...” you scoff. “Did you really just make that comparison?” 

He helps you rotate the metal rods deftly, pressing his body further into yours. “You’ll find it to be accurate. Every lock is different and requires a personalized approach. You cannot just shove the tools in the hole like an oaf and expect it to open and reveal its secrets.” 

“You’re making it sound intentionally sexual in nature.” 

“I cannot be blamed for the fact that dexterity comes in handy in a variety of situations.” He says, clicking his tongue softly. His lips ghost along the ridge of your ear to the tapered tip, and he whispers, “It is how I make love to you, no? Listen to your body, read your mood, and tend to your needs.” 

Heat rushes to your face, reddening your cheeks, and your heart jolts in your chest, escalating into a quickened pace as his words play your heartstrings like a lyre.  

“My mood?” You rasp with a silvery timbre.

The pop of another pin clinks. Astarion rescinds his control but keeps his hand poised near yours, skimming the back of your hand with his fingertips to encourage you to keep going.  

“Yes, your mood." Astarion drawls, "Sometimes you want it tender and loving, and other times rough and wild. Sometimes you want to control; sometimes you want to be controlled. It all depends on your mood, really.” 

You swallow hard, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate all of a sudden. Shivers spread across your body, prickling your skin as Astarion’s lips ghost along the back of your neck, raining kisses down your spine. 

Your hands jitter in the lock, making the rods ting against the metal housing. 

“You’re awfully distracted.” Astarion coos. 

The heat seems to drain from your face and into your lower abdomen, flaring at the seductive, husky baritone of his taunting. 

You clear your throat. “And what mood would you say I am in today?” 

“Hmm…” Astarion hums lowly. He regards you silently for a moment, as if reading a particularly interesting chapter of a book. “I think today you want to be taken, claimed, fucked. Perhaps, if you’re a very good girl, I will give you what you desire if you can unlock that lock.” 

His knee nudges between your legs, edging them further apart, and his hand cups the curve of your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze. Your mouth drops open as his fingers trail through your folds and settle on the intensely aching flesh. 

Your hips jerk, and your fingers quiver, nearly dropping the tools, but Astarion's other hand steadies your grip. “Focus,” he purrs, starting to rub circles around the throbbing border of your clit. “Keep a firm grip on it now. Try rotating it to the right a little.”

He cannot possibly expect you to keep focused like this, and you let out something between a whimper and a mewl, frustration and desire mixed. With his free hand, Astarion takes control of yours, guiding the tool in your fingers to turn the mechanism as his fingers change the direction of their circling — counterclockwise, clockwise, and back — in whatever way he makes you twist the lock. 

Another metallic pang comes from the opening, but you barely hear it underneath your gasps. “Hear that? You’re nearly there.” He groans, pressing chaste kisses down your neck. “Keep going, love. You’ve got this.” 

You are nearly there, but not in the way he’s implying. “Astarion… I can’t... Gods. Not when you’re-” 

“When I am what?” He increases his pace, making you slump over and moan, closing your eyes against the pleasure. “If you stop, so will I.” 

Good Gods. There is almost nothing you wouldn’t do to get him to continue, so you force your eyes to open, center them on the lock, and try to continue manipulating the godsforsaken device. 

Astarion presses his erection against your lower back with a shaky groan. He drags his finger up and down your seam, teasing your entrance, and then back to circling your demandingly pulsing pearl. The sensation is too overwhelming, making your core spasm involuntarily, and the tools drop from your hands in favour of holding onto the edge of the bathtub for dear life. 

His ministrations pause instantaneously. “The tools do you no good unless you use them, darling.” 

You roll your hips in a vain attempt to get any friction, but Astarion grasps them and forces them to remain still. You lean back into him; his cock pulses against you, and despite his outward poise, the low grunts and growls in his throat tell you that he’s losing his composure. 

“Astarion,” you whimper in disapproval. It takes everything you have not to take matters into your own hands, so to speak. 

“You want more?” He taunts, with a featherlight stroke to entice you. “Go on then. Unlock it.” 

You smile at his choice of words and grin at him mischievously. Before he has time to correct himself, your fingers dance, the incantation rolls off your tongue, and the lock clicks open for you. 

Astarion chuckles — rich and low. He kisses your shoulder, clicks his tongue, and tuts. “That’s cheating, Kamena.” 

“You said unlock it,” you tease. “You didn’t specify how.” 

“You naughty little vixen,” he scolds, kissing up the column of your neck. He whispers, letting his cool breath fan your heated skin. “I have half a mind to withhold your prize.” 

“What does the other half of your mind say?” You press into his arousal, rocking your hips side to side. 

“Fuck it." 

His fingers clutch your chin, turning your head in a possessive hold, and he kisses you ravenously. You only feel the blunt head of Astarion’s cock at your entrance for a moment before he drives himself to the hilt with a swift snap of his hips. 

Your eyes roll back, and Astarion’s hand covers your mouth to smother the loud, rapturous cry. 

“We are not at home any longer,” he grunts as he pulls back slowly, so you can feel every crest of his swollen head exquisitely drag across your ridges. “Are you going to stay quiet, or shall I keep you quiet?” 

There is no hope that when you speak, your words will be intelligible, and you simply put your hand over the one covering your mouth to let him know he should keep it there, lest the entire household know what carnal depravity you’re partaking in. 

“As you wish,” he purrs, nipping at your shoulder and snaking an arm around your waist to hold you steady. 

Your thighs tremble as you ride out the relentless pace Astarion sets. The bath water splashes over the edges of the tub with every one of his powerful thrusts. Every thought shatters into fireworks that burst behind your eyes, and all your doubts are drowned away as he slams into you, hitting a spot so deep that it makes your legs weak. 

“You are mine,” he growls, dark and dominating.

Yes. Yours. Make me forget every month, day, second I spent without you. Make me forget.

I want to forget. 

Astarion’s fangs crawl down your neck and sink into your flesh with a quick snap of his jaw. He doesn’t ask permission, but he knows he doesn’t need to. He plays with your clit, the pads of his fingers rubbing and circling, and the combination of all these sensations borders on overwhelming. 

The world seems to fall away around you, and all that’s left is you, him, and devastatingly intense ecstasy. Your hand drops and grasps Astarion’s thigh, fingers squeezing the taut muscles, feeling them work as he pounds into you unrelentingly. You’re a moaning, whimpering, mindless mess as the pleasure grows and grows until every nerve is humming with blissful tension. A loud moan rumbles in Astarion’s chest, and the tension snaps suddenly like an overwrought elastic band. 

You come, hard and loud, thighs shaking, hips rocking into him, every shockwave clenching upon his thickness so strongly that it draws ragged breaths from his throat. 

He removes his fangs from your neck. “Kiss me,” he orders. 

Even though your spirit feels like it’s just finding its footing back in your body, you turn your head with parted lips, blinking at him slowly. Your blood is smeared across his silken mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are glossy with genuine pleasure as he moulds his lips to yours. 

Astarion’s hand wraps around your throat, and he buries his cock as deep as you can take him thrust after sensational thrust. He entices your lips to part, his tongue eagerly seizing the whimpers and sighs from your throat. 

His hips stutter, eyes squeezing shut, and he cries in your mouth as his cock twitches and pulses, spilling his seed deeply inside you as he unravels in the Eden of his climax.  

You both slump forward as you catch your breath, holding onto the edge of the bathtub for support. Astarion’s hand slips from your throat to just under your breasts, and he keeps you pressed firmly to his chest, supporting your still-trembling body. 

In his arms, you feel safe and secure. 

Yet, there is a voice at the back of your head that warns you not to get too comfortable being this in love because if his life is in danger and being in Waterdeep with you puts him in mortal peril, you will send him away. 

You will break his heart to save his life — even if it breaks you.

The shadows spread out around you, with only the soft bioluminescent glow of crystals, flora, and your small fire providing any illumination to the hopeless dark. You gaze at the fire, absently morphing it into shapes of things you miss from the surface — the sun, trees, birds.  

Astarion.  

How long have you been down here trying to track down his siblings and the 7,000 vampire spawn you set free?  

Days? Weeks? Months?  

Long enough for your skin to start losing the kiss of the sun.  

When the flaming figure looks up from the book in his hands and waves at you, tears start to prick your eyes, and you curse under your breath as you relinquish your control and the fire rolls down into its natural state.  

You know better than to allow your mind to wander. Why you keep doing this to yourself, you’ll never understand.  

You glance around your little, makeshift, one-person camp situated in a spot you remember well. You thought it would bring you comfort to stay where you have happier memories, but the barrenness is only another aching reminder of his absence. Sighing, you grab the edges of your bedroll and start wrapping it up. You left your tent months ago when it became too threadbare and worn to be of much use other than slowing you down. 

Your fingers comb through your knotted hair quickly and tie it back. It’s not been properly washed in some time, and it feels stringy and gritty against your hands. You look briefly around the camp before walking down the little slope, taking particular care to evade the spore clouds from the timmask. 

Picking up where you left off the day before, you follow the path and keep a keen eye on the ground. Without the banter from your friends, an eerie silence spreads in all directions around you.  

But that’s how it’s been for months — just you, the road, and your nightmares.  

You crouch down, studying the tracks in the silt. Pressing your fingers into the dirt, you find it to be dry and dusty this far away from the lake. The ground would not hold impressions for long.  

I’m getting closer. 

Something snaps in the murk, making you jump to your feet and study the surroundings, but the darkness is deep and obscure.  

“Hello?”  

The stillness doesn’t answer. 

My mind is playing tricks on me again. 

After adjusting your pack, you do your best to follow the trail. The Arcane Tower looms in the distance, a spire that seems to blend in with the gloomy atmosphere except for the burning braziers giving off their blue glow. A flurry of pebbles bounces down a nearby cliff, clattering against the stone. Perception heightens all your senses, your skin prickles, and your hair stands on end. 

You’re being watched, tracked, and hunted. 

Casting Misty Step, you vanish and reappear, swiftly descending into a crouch, shrouded in darkness. Frenzied red eyes and dirty, gaunt faces begin to appear with their fangs bared in deranged toothy grins that spell danger. They scent the air, and their eyes snap directly to your position, their fingers poised in front of them, ready to claw their prey.  

They twitch and quiver, snarling and hissing like feral animals. You try to speak to them, but your words fall flat, muted by malnourishment and bloodlust. You search the faces for someone you recognize, but good Gods, they are filthy, cadaverous, and emaciated. 

Hells. Are they suffering because I didn’t have the strength to end it when I could have? 

You do the only thing you can and run. Their pursing footsteps thunder like a stampeding herd of Bulette. You sprint, pushing your body to careen over the uneven terrain faster, faster, faster until your muscles burn and cramp.  

But it is not fast enough.  

You scream for Astarion as your mind blanks momentarily from panic, but he’s not here; he’s never here, and he never will be again.  

You trip.   

Gods.   

You trip on rocks and gnarled roots, scraping your knees and palms. The scent of blood in the air only sends them further into a frenzy, and bony hands grab at you from all sides. You try to pull away, but it’s too late. You are jerked forward, back, and side to side as they contend over you as if you are the last decaying scrap of carrion in all of Faerûn.  

Numerous pairs of pointed fangs pierce into the flesh of your arms, legs, and neck. They are not gentle. Hells, they are not gentle at all, nothing like Astarion. This pain does not ebb into a pleasant, dull throb. It is sharp, with ice and fire rending your skin. They shake their heads, ripping and tearing, and their fangs sink through muscle and hit bone.  

How many of them are there? Hundreds? Thousands? 

Crimson eyes and hollow cheeks fill your vision, blotting out everything else. You thrash, you struggle, and you call for Astarion in high-pitched screams, but none of it is of any use. 

You lash out at them with your magic, allowing the flames to envelop your skin, but they hold your arms and legs, grinding your limbs into the dirt. They burn, but they do not stop; they cannot stop. They are too starved and too crazed. They will drain you dry even as they char and blacken.  

It’s over. 

You will die alone in the dark. 

A sheen of cool sweat dusts your skin, you grow cold, and the pain begins to recede into a cradling senselessness. You resign yourself to death as you walk the edge of it. When the darkness calls, you find that you want to heed it and tumble into the respite of your imminent demise. Your heart beats slower, slower, slower. It palpates in your chest, trying to pump blood that is no longer in your body. 

Your eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as they beg to close. Death approaches you, seductive and charming, with outstretched arms. It is attractive and tempting. It whispers relief. Death is all embrace me and never be alone again. It says don’t be afraid. It beckons you to join it in sweet, all-encompassing release. You reach toward it, taking it’s hand, and allow yourself to be led away from the pain, the cold, the loneliness — all of it. 

And you finally feel at peace.  

A voice bellows, agitating the edges of the still serenity you’re sinking into, and fangs begin to rip from your arm and legs.  

A man? 

You blink, trying to clear your clouded vision. The voice urges you to move, to get up and run. You try, but the earth here is unable to swallow your blood quickly enough, and you slip and fall into the pools collecting on the ground. Your eyelashes flutter weakly as you squint to look at the man standing before you, hauling, and throwing the hysterical, blood-mad spawn away.  

Astarion? 

The feeble beat of your heart jolts with hope, and you turn away from death, releasing its hand and resisting its siren song. You turn away from the peaceful nullity it offers, walk out of its dark caress, and back into your body.  

But all hope is expunged as soon as the shroud is removed from your sight. The blurred figure begins to take shape, and previously formless details sharpen.  

No… 

Not Astarion. 

Never Astarion. 

Though you do recognize him, your mind sluggishly tries to connect the familiarity with memories.  

His name. Gods, you know it, but what is it?  

Sebastian. 

The spawn attack, throwing themselves at him, rendered insane by the smell of your blood. You try to push yourself up again, but you only make it to your knees, wavering unsteadily as your head spins and unconsciousness summons. Sebastian starts calling out over his shoulder.  

“Get her out of here,” Sebastian barks to Leon who looks at you with brows furrowed in confusion. “Her blood is only making it worse. Dal and I can keep them busy long enough for you to get her away.”  

Leon nods curtly, sprinting toward you and throwing you over his shoulder. It’s not a comfortable hold, as his bony shoulder juts into your stomach and lungs. The swaying makes your head throb sickeningly, and you fade in and out of consciousness.  

Panicked voices rouse you back from the dark, but you cannot open your eyes. Your senseless fingers twist into your robe as you try to find a way to hold onto your wakefulness.  

“What are we going to do with her?” A woman’s baffled voice quivers. “What in the Hells is she even doing down here?”  

“If we don’t do something quickly, she’s going to die,” Sebastian says.  

“Let her die,” another man’s voice drawls, heartless and cold. “I could use a snack.”  

“Petras!” Leon scolds.  

Your eyes finally begin to open while they debate your fate. You’re slumped against the stone wall of the Arcane Tower. 

“You cannot seriously be suggesting we let her bleed out.” Sebastian mutters from the corner. “She killed Cazador. She saved our lives. She saved Astarion.”  

“She-” Petras stomps with his fists balled at his sides. “ She stood by and watched while Astarion roasted me!”  

Dal scoffs. “Are you still sour about that? Gods. Let it go.”  

“No,” he says, shaking his head and jutting his chin out haughtily. “I don’t think I will, sister.”  

“She means much to Astarion,” Leon sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We owe him to at least try and save her.”  

Your voice is weak, barely even a whisper. “Have you seen or heard from him?”  

All of their heads snap toward you with narrow eyes.  

“Who?” Dal tries to smile, stops pacing, and comes to crouch by your side.  

“Astarion. Have you seen him?”  

Leon frowns. “No. The last time we saw him was at the Black Mass with you.”  

You nod and let your head loll to the side. It takes every ounce of energy you have left, but you cast Detect Thoughts covertly.  

You knew it was a long shot, but they are not lying.  

“Let me die.” You sob. “Have mercy and let me die.”  

When your eyes crack and creep open, darkness so thick that it presses in on you, being drawn into your lungs with every shallow, rapid breath, suffocating you from the inside and out, is there to greet you once more. 

Death had been a mysterious, charming man, holding your hand, and gently walking you into that final repose, and you turned away from him and told him to wait. 

You told Death himself to wait because you thought Astarion was there. 

But he wasn’t. 

He was never there. 

Your eyes cry silent tears of mourning for the loss of the peace that was all but promised to you. Now, you must walk on the precipice of two existences. One in which you exist to hold everyone and everything together — a fearless leader, a lover, a light in the darkness — and the other where you watch yourself continually fall apart, crushed beneath the weight of it all. 

Shutting your eyes so tight it hurts, you clench your teeth, and instead of shying away from the pain, running, as you so often do, you delve into it. You force your heart to ingest your fears, doubts, and suffering until it shatters, you run out of tears, and you let it hurt until that too stops. 

A remarkable numbness circulates through your veins, like a wave cast out from your heart as it burst into fragments of all the things you used to be. There is no happiness or sadness, love or not, just a soft lull into emotionlessness, and you wade ever deeper into the treacle of frigid calm. 

Somewhere, deep inside you, a voice whispers that this is worse, that this is not healing, that this is running. 

You tell that voice to shut the fuck up. 

You manage to slip out of the room without waking Astarion, pad through the silent manor, and go outside into the courtyard. The storm still rages on. Rain splatters against your face, thunder and lightning crack overhead, and the wet strands of your hair whip wildly in the wind. You stay as the rain drenches you to the bone, you’re shivering, and watch the wild orchestra; the chaos of it mirrors the turmoil of your own soul. 

“Sorceress.” The voice comes from behind a locked, wrought-iron gate. 

The voice should make you jump, scream, run, but it does not even spur the shattered remains of your heart to quiver in their grave.  

“Aldous.” 

“My master would like to parlay with you.” He sneers as if it physically pains him to say. “She believes a deal can be struck to avoid fatalities on both sides.” 

“I don’t make deals with Vampire Lords.” You hiss, “You can tell your master I said to fuck off.” 

“Kamena,” Aldous slinks closer to the gate. Can he come through the gate? Is it just houses they can’t walk into uninvited, or is this part of the house? “You did not even ask what her offer was. I assure you that you will want to hear it.” 

Curiosity gets the better of you. “What’s she offering?” 

“Safety, for you and yours, including the blood sucker,” Aldous hisses the last part, and it makes you smirk. It must just be killing him to offer safety to the man who drained him dry and left him to rot. 

“Not interested,” you yawn, and stretch dramatically. “There are other ways to ensure our safety that do not rely on a deal with a Vampire Lord. I much prefer those ways.” 

“What about this?” Aldous holds up a ring. A golden band with a large ruby, but it looks otherwise unremarkable. 

“Jewellery?” You scoff, “Gods. Are you just fucking with me now?” 

“I admit it appears rather unremarkable, but it is the Ring of the Sunwalker. It will allow your lover to walk in the sun again unharmed.” 

Could it be true? Could an enchanted ring be mere feet away from you that will allow Astarion to see and walk in the sun again without fear? 

“What’s to stop me from taking it from you right now?” You stalk toward the gate, fire ablaze in your palms. 

“Ah-ah, Sorceress.” Aldous wags his index finger at you. He holds the ring in his palm, and you realize it’s an illusion. “My master is willing to give up such a unique treasure if you can come to an agreement.” 

“Because she means to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, the one I stopped Cazador from completing. She will be able to walk in the sun, and she won’t need it anymore. Correct?” 

“Something like that.” Aldous smiles snake-like. “So, what do you say?” 

“Astarion and my friends are guaranteed safety, and we get the ring, but what’s the catch?” 

“We require an exact sketch of his scars to complete the contract as well as the incantation.” 

You could end this. You could take the deal, take Astarion, and run as far from Waterdeep as you can, leaving it to its fate under an Ascended Vampire Lord.  

How far would you go to ensure Astarion’s safety? Would you turn a blind eye to another Vampire Lord ascending and all the thousands of deaths that means? 

Could you live with yourself? 

“I will think about it.”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Do we think Kamena is going to take the offer seriously?

I am curious. Would you consider it if it means safety for all your friends and Astarion, and a ring that allows him to walk in the sun unharmed, even if it means turning a blind eye to all that death?

[freakartack]

Okay. This is going to be an extremely weird question, especially since I have the opposite mario alien tism

How would orbulon react to the shroobs :0 I'm just curious

NOT WEIRD i fucking love thinking about warioware's connection with the Greater Mario Universe, which I am also unhealthily obsessed with. In fact I'll do you one better:

ORBULON'S RANKINGS OF VARIOUS ALIENS IN THE MARIO SERIES*

*Not including things that are only aliens by virtue of being in mario galaxy

Shroobs

Going to talk about them as a collective here (so this includes all shrooboids and shroobsworths and whatnot), but first of all I fucking love the shroobs. I think the concept of a fungus alien that weaponizes mycorrhizae is ingenious, and their blank little gaping mouth expression is hilarious. THAT BEING SAID, orbulon would be a little less receptive to them. Given that he's been trying to take over the world for 1000 years, and they almost conquered it in like 2 seconds, he would probably be scared shitless. 0/10 too scary

Tatanga

A lot of people ask me about this one. "Would tatanga and orbulon be buddies? They are both aliens that worked for wario!" And to that I say no. Yes, they are both diminutive little aliens bent on conquering the world. However, so are Shroobs. Not only would orbulon be similarly intimidated by someone way more competent at doing so than his lazy ass, but tatanga, notably, does NOT respect women - he kidnapped the resident red-haired girl to try and force her to become his bride, something that would not fly with orbulon given that he is best friends with a red-haired girl and is also occassionally one himself. Furthermore, while Orbulon works for Wario because Wario offered him a place to stay in his hour of need and they are friends, Tatanga worked for Wario because he was really mad that their mutual enemy stopped him from forcing someone to become his bride. (This was also during Wario's evil phase, so he didn't really care about that as long as Mario got walloped. Which he didn't. Good going, Tatanga.) Fortunately, Orbulon never had to cross paths with tatanga due to my pet theory that he was asleep for the entirety of Super Mario Land. 2/10 incel

X-Nauts

You may be sensing a pattern here. This is another one that Orbulon is not a fan of, but this is also one that he's actually around for. Unlike the invasion of the Shroobs, which he was around for but not invested in Earth beyond a potential conquest yet, or the invasion of Tatanga, which he was asleep for and didn't find out about until he woke up to a million missed notifications on his dashboard about Unknown Spacecrafts Near You, this happened around the events of Warioware Touched (if you decide to view mario games as happening concurrently with wario games released at the same time, which is a fun thought exercise if you ignore enough things.) SO, if we arranged the timeline just so, we could pretend that he had an experience like this:

1/10 their advancements in synthetic organisms are fascinating

Squirps

There is absolutely no chance of Squirps and Orbulon interacting or having interacted. Which is a shame, because they'd probably get along better than most aliens on this list. Squirps would probably regard Orbulon as a weird old man, despite technically being at most half a century younger than him. Orbulon would think he was a cute kid but likely be overwhelmed by his energy as Squirps runs laps around him (similar to Kat and Ana). 7/10 just make sure he doesn't bite you

E.C.

10/10 they go out for drinks every friday

[coqhee]

GUITARIST BOYFRIEND ♡ JAY HEADCANNONS

♡ pairing ﹕ guitarist bf!jay x female!reader ︲genre ﹕ fluff, est relationship︲wc ﹕ 0.4k︲a/n ﹕ not the best at writing hcs! any hearts, comments and reblogs highly appreciated!

back 2 shelf

guitarist bf! jay who plays you songs on the guitar he wrote just for you while sitting under the stars.

guitarist bf! jay who wants to show you how to play guitar every chance he gets.

guitarist bf! jay who takes you guitar shopping with him and excitedly asks you which guitar makes him look the best.

“cmon baby just tell me which one makes me look the hottest when i play” jay says while picking up another guitar in the store.

“who are you trying to look hot for hmmm” you ask with a chuckle knowing full well you have him wrapped around your finger just as he does you.

“you of course my love,” he responds gently with a smile.

 you watched as he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips giving a light and delicate kiss, then looking up to you with a warm smile.

guitarist bf! jay who excitedly shows you off to his bandmates as his girlfriend and future wife.

guitarist bf! jay who gets protective when he sees one of his bandmates reaching out to shake your hand.

“you don’t have to shake his hand if you’re not comfortable baby,”

“hey man, i’m right here it’s not like you have some second world where i can’t hear you, you know,” 

you laugh at the interaction but still reach out to shake the outstretched hand smiling at the man who’s basically your boyfriends best friend.

guitarist bf! jay who always brings you to his concerts and makes sure you can watch him safely backstage.

guitarist bf! jay who makes sure you always have water and food when coming to his concerts.

guitarist bf! jay who goes off the set list to introduce you to the crowd.

guitarist bf! jay who sings a song specially just for you while introducing you.

“i’d actually like to introduce you guys to my girlfriend this concert!” he says with a radiating smile.

he motions for you to come on stage and you look around as if there were some other girlfriend there for him to bring on stage.

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way to the stage, his bandmates greeting you as you make your way up the stage.

“hi, im ____”

jay smiles with pride as he takes your hand in his and sings a song he specially wrote for you, dedicating the rest of his life to be with you in the song. he ends the song with a smile kissing you on stage with a delicate short peck.

the crowd cheers and he motions you to sit off-stage for the rest of the concert feeling more in love than ever.

@ coqhee 2024 - all rights reserved.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 | kth

comforting your best friend through a heartbreak ironically causes your own heartbreak

✢ genre: some soft angst that's way too relatable to me rn

✢ warnings: bad words

✢ song rec: hitori no yoru

it was way too late into the evening to be crashing at taehyun's house, but you were especially worried and wanted to check in on him. today he seemed off and since taehyun is the type of person to conceal his emotions, he wouldn't tell you anything. being his best friend, you knew him through and through, heart and soul included. that title, though you were extremely grateful to have since taehyun brought eternal joy in your life, was both a blessing and a curse.

no one knew and it was hard to admit even to yourself, but you had grown fond of the boy. you knew him for a long time so you thought you would never have any sort of romantic attraction, but everyday proved you so wrong. you would get butterflies whenever he came near you or locked eyes with you. you would heat up unknowingly, the warmth spreading to your cheeks that it became quite obvious. your heart would betray you as well, pounding like a fast, steady metronome whenever he gave you attention. it was laughable to say the least, so you hoped that he would never know.

your feelings to which he didn't reciprocate back, would ruin your friendship forever. things would never be the same if he found out or if you confessed. and you weren't willing to give taehyun up after so long of knowing him, therefore you'd rather have some of him as a best friend than none at all.

this time you had wrapped your arms around his firm chest, letting his comforting cologne swallow your senses whole. for just a second you pretended that you were more than friends, and sometimes that was enough, knowing that you would never have anything more than that in the back of your mind.

taehyun chuckled at you nuzzling your head deeper into his chest, lifting up his hand to gently rub your head. when you looked up at him, he laughed even more, the deep timbre of his voice extremely soothing. he was lucky to have you and though he won't say it much, he feels better with you near. with such love and support, he almost forgot his predicament, if not for the ache burning holes in his chest.

on the other hand, your heart flipped in your chest and you snuck a glance at him. he was sending a goofy smile towards you before tensing up. his face dropped, and he looked away at the wall just as quick as that sweet interaction.

"fuck, doing this reminds me of her. we would always do this together."

now the butterflies in your stomach just died, being replaced by a bunch of bile that crept in the back of your throat. this must be why he was feeling upset today. behind that cold and calculating front, you knew that something was wrong and now you could pinpoint what it was- he missed her.

"you know, she texted me late at night yesterday; 4am, i think, and asked for another chance."

you shimmied yourself out of his arms awkwardly, opting to sit next to him instead so as to not bring back bittersweet memories for him. his words broke your heart instantly since you thought for just a moment, just one, that his smile would be because he realized he loved you. yet here you were feeling sick, after every time he would do something sweet. you illusioned yourself into thinking that he loved you back, but he unintentionally crushed your heart again for the nth time, making it squeeze and ache.

"is this why you were upset today? i don't get it, tyun. i thought you vowed to never get back with her because of how messy it was."

the breakup was super messy, especially for your best friend. he was a wreck for a month, trying to drown himself in work and school. you just didn't think that it would be the reason for keeping him up even now, a couple months later.

he sighed, peering into your eyes. you stared back at him, unfortunately admiring the eyes you loved and hated the most. you could never stop looking at his eyes, for they were the most beautiful set of honey brown eyes and you could get lost in them forever. however you hated how they never looked at you, never looked at the one person that loved him and could give him the love he had always wanted. even now you were incredibly weak as he glanced up and down at you, making you spiral as you battled to keep your composure on the outside.

"but i still love her. i know we can't be together after we broke up twice, but i just love her so much."

his words were like nails on a chalkboard, tearing you up from the inside as you physically winced. ringing through your ears, the word love ripped your body from limb to limb and you tried not to let tears pool and ripple from the edge of your eyes. his ex had a deathly grip on him, one that you knew you could never have. she was always there somehow, haunting you whenever taehyun ranted about his heartbreak and even when you were feeling insecure. he would always be about her and there was nothing you could do about it but watch and provide sympathy because you were his best friend.

needing comfort, taehyun wrapped his arms around you. a couple seconds later you heard some quiet sniffles as he buried his face into the bone of your shoulder. it seems that her grip on him was tighter than ever reflecting his lover for her stronger than ever. you felt like you could throw up this time. distractingly his body shook, trembling uncontrollably as he struggled to keep himself together.

"i love you, y/n. thanks for coming over. you being here makes me feel a thousand times better." his sweet words and actions cut you deeper, like a burning knife through the heart. you gulped, patting his back delicately, in contrast to the way he was clinging onto you tightly. knowing that he didn't want you to acknowledge how vulnerable he was, you just kissed the side of his head- an action that you two frequently did to show affection for each other. having him close to you, on the other hand, was like acid to the touch; he was always within reach but he was never close enough for you to receive romantic love.

"i love you too, tyun. and as your best friend, i promise i will always be here for you."

you let a few tears roll now, knowing that you couldn't keep it up. he wouldn't see or notice your tears, just like your unrequited love, bound to be hidden forever.

released: june 17, 2024, 2:27am (CT)

thoughts: friends to lovers is MY trope, it always hits too good. also to make you feel slightly better since this was very sad, the pics I chose reminds me of "i'm doing it, are you?"

tags:

[lilalilan]

Ahhh got harassed by a random guy at the concert after-party could y'all just fucking not

[indelicateink]

.

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

LMFAO I JUST REMEMBERED I WAS FUCKING W THE SCHOOL COUNCILOR EARLIER TODAY DBDJDHDHS

[softly-and-suddenly]

If I eat an entire wheel of Cotswold double Gloucester with onion and chives, I really feel in my heart that I will be able to read the Voynich Manuscript

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”