#thanks to every follower that stuck around through all the breaks I take

[melon-wing]

Not-So-Secret Soulmates [Scar/Grian]

[[FANFICTION MASTERLIST]]

Grian stood at the small grave, looking at the name with a pained expression. His heart ached for the friend he had just lost, even when he knew it wouldn’t be forever. He hadn’t meant to kill Bigb. He had managed to convince himself they were secret soulmates so much that he had forgotten Bigb had still been connected to Ren after all. He probably wouldn’t have built that trap otherwise. Or maybe he would have done it, but he would have apologised to Bigb before they had perished. This way he had actually celebrated his secret soulmate’s death, indirectly, but still. He had cheered. 

Grian almost felt as if arms were embracing him and he wondered if that was really the case. He remembered being a ghost last time. He had still been able to stay in that world and while he had just watched, maybe soft touches were possible. Him and Scar had been able to hear the shouts of the dead in their first game after all. Sometimes the wall between the dead and the living got thinner as emotions ran high. 

“I’m so sorry, B. I didn’t mean to kill you. I wished things could have been different. I really… I really wanted to be with you”, he whispered into the cold night air.

“You wanted him to be your soulmate instead of me, didn’t you?”

Grian jumped, whipping around so quickly he almost fell, the feeling of the soft embrace immediately disappearing as a cold shiver ran down his back. How hadn’t he heard Scar walk up to him? It was so unlike him to not pay attention and Scar usually wasn’t one to hide his presence well enough. It took him a moment to overcome the shock to realise Scar was still waiting for an answer, his eyes looking deep into his and it was as if he was pulled into these brown pools filled with uncertainty and sadness.

“Yes. I wanted him to be my soulmate. He was the one I was disappointed about most when we discovered he wasn’t my soulmate.”

Scar let out a small laugh, but there was no joy in it, it sounded so hollow.

“I mean… I knew that. Why am I even surprised? I just never thought you’d admit it just like that. But yeah, it’s true. Nobody would have been happy having me as a partner. I’m irresponsible, I mess up stuff and I don’t think before jumping into action. I’m the worst at this and anyone would have been better. I’m a walking, talking catastrophe.”

Grian could see something breaking inside Scar as his voice reached a higher pitch as he spoke, cracking every now and again, his words making him spiral downwards even more. 

“Scar-”

“No. Don’t you dare deny it now. You know it’s true! I pretended I didn’t hear you scream when you found out. I pretended it was something else that made you this upset, but I knew. I knew we were soulmates before you did. I knew the moment I stepped foot into this weird world. Because how could it ever be anybody else other than you?”, Scar ranted on, a shaking hand pushing his hair from his forehead as he looked at Grian, his eyes a mixture of sadness and madness. He was losing it quickly and Grian was too overwhelmed to know what to say to him. “Scar, please…”

Scar just shook his head, eyes moving from Grian to the grave behind him. “I thought this time we could win together. Me and you until the end. This time we wouldn’t have to fight to death. I didn’t want to see you cry again like last time. It was so hard to keep pretending then and not just hug you. I promised myself to protect you.”

“Wait… pretend?”

The glint of madness seemed to disappear and Scar smiled softly, but still so sad as he recalled the memories of their first game. “Grian. I’m not that bad at fistfighting. I’m a clutz, but even I don’t stumble that often and fall face first into a cactus. I didn’t want to hurt you. I let you win. Had I known you’d cry over my dying body like that I would have just accidentally fallen into a ravine before we ever reached that damn ring of death.”

Grian only stared at him, thinking back to their encounter in the desert, not trying to linger too long on the memory of the screams and blood. Now that Scar had said it, it seemed so obvious. Not even Scar was that much of an idiot when something was important to him. Apparently winning had never been important to him.

“I- Thank you, I think?”

Scar just shook his head and Grian was pretty sure getting gratitude wasn’t the reason he had brought it up.

“It’s in the past now. We were a great team back then. Not so much anymore. What happened to us, G? I thought you enjoyed being with me, even if I can be an irresponsible buffoon sometimes. We hang out all the time on Hermitcraft. We have lots of fun together, don’t we? Why do you hate being my soulmate so much that you want to team up with someone else?”

Grian pressed his lips together, glancing everywhere but at Scar’s face. He hadn’t known his attitude would hurt Scar this much and he knew he owed his partner an explanation, but he had a hard time admitting it out loud, when he had only ever told Bigb about the way he felt.

“I didn’t want to be the one to kill you again”, Grian finally whispered, looking up from uncertain eyes at Scar who seemed slightly shocked at his confession. “If you weren’t my soulmate I could have tried to do the same thing I did last time: Stay as far away from you as possible and make sure we’re not on the same or on opposing teams. I know this is a game and I know we all respawn… But I didn’t know back then. The first time. I thought I had killed you. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t fight you again. A piece of me broke that day, Scar, and I have been unable to repair it.”

“What?” Scar just gasped out, looking at him as if he was processing those words for a moment and then a bit of the sadness disappeared and he seemed less lonely and broken as a hopeful glimmer appeared. “So you teaming up with Bigb…?”

“He was helping me, Scar. We spent so much time together because he’s one of my best friends and he knows me. And I tried to replace you with him and I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would hurt you this much. It’s not that I don’t like you… I like you too much.”

Scar seemed to stop, all thoughts coming to an abrupt halt as his wide eyes looked straight into Grian’s. And then suddenly his cheeks started to turn pink as his shocked expression morphed into a small shy smile. It was an expression that made Grian’s heart race faster again. It was funny how the smallest of changes on Scar’s face could make him react like this.

Scar finally stepped up, taking a hold of Grian’s hand. “You don’t have to do this. Keeping your distance. I promise I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. We don’t have to fight and even if we die”, Scar took the hand to his lips, kissing it softly, looking up from the hand at Grian, “We’ll be right back together. I will be there when you wake up on Hermitcraft. We’ll be together. This is not real, Grian. We aren’t dying.”

“I know…”, Grian whispered, looking at Scar, those bright green eyes looking at him from beneath long eyelashes. “I just. I’m scared. What if I make enemies and you die because of me? What if I stumble and fall? What if some mob gets to me?”

Scar just shrugged, smiling fully now as he lowered Grian’s hand once more. “Grian. Do I look like someone who thinks he could win this? I cost you two lives already. So if you stumble, I’ll just have to catch you and put you back on your feet again. And if we die, I’ll be happy knowing we did our best together as a team. And once this is over we can be together without worrying. Back home.”

Grian smiled back at Scar. He just couldn’t help it. Seeing that smile was always too infectious. There was still a deep worry inside him, but yet he felt calm as well. Yeah, he might die and hurt Scar. But Scar wouldn’t mind. Scar would still be there waiting for him once he woke up again. Scar lifted his free hand up, letting it rest softly on Grian’s cheek and Grian leaned into the warmth of that touch, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing his constantly racing mind to slow down for the first time since this game had started. When he opened his eyes, all he could see and think of was Scar. Scar with his soft locks and bright smile. And with those deep eyes that looked at him with so much affection. It was truly a miracle he hadn’t suspected before that his feelings weren't one sided. “Promise me, Scar… Promise you’ll stay by my side. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me this time.”

Scar smiled and nodded.

“You’re not alone. Not in this world and not in the next.”

And as they both leaned forward their lips touched to seal the promise and Grian could feel a spark running through his whole body and he just knew that even if they didn’t win, he had gotten everything he ever wanted in this miserable world. He had found something precious that would stay far longer than the time they’d spend here. He had finally found love.

[alchemistc]

"Is it okay if I call you my boyfriend?"

Tommy is - Tommy is maybe being ambushed. He's barely through the door, night five in a row of convincing himself (and then talking himself around under and through, and then re-convincing himself) that if Evan wanted a break, or time to himself, he wouldn't keep inviting Tommy over.

"Hi," Tommy says, overnight bag in his hands, the spare key Evan had given him on night three ("It's not too soon if we don't think about it too hard." "I'm just following your lead, psycho," Tommy had responded, but he'd gathered him in for a series of kisses, all the same.) still rattling amongst his own house and car keys in his hand. "How was your day, Evan? Mine was great, thank you for asking."

Evan shoots him a mildly snarky look in response, already rounding the kitchen table to grab for Tommy's bag. Tommy watches in something approaching dangerous levels of smitten as he hooks Tommy's keys next to his on one of the hooks above the sideboard, as he hefts Tommy's bag up out of Tommy's hands and behind him, four stairs up towards the loft, where one of them will inevitably trip over it when things get hot and heavy and they forget it's there. Tommy knows this, because it's happened four nights in a row already.

He should give Evan his spare. Let him nest by slowly bringing over pots and pans until he's satisfied with the tools available in Tommy's kitchen. They won't have anything to trip on in Tommy's ranch, Tommy lies to himself.

Evan hooks fingers in Tommy's belt loops, and tugs him in. This is where the real ambush happens. Evan will press his lips to Tommy's, slide his tongue to the roof of Tommy's mouth, bite down on Tommy's lip just when Tommy is thinking he might have a chance of coming out of it with his brain cells more or less intact, and then he'll pull a ridiculous move like sliding his hand into Tommy's back pocket and Tommy will lose the entire plot.

Or.

Evan tips forward and lets his lips linger over Tommy's, a beat, two, three, and then he tilts his head and rather than changing the angle of the kiss he pulls away, bright eyed gaze searching Tommy's face for - something. Tommy knows what the something is but they're moving at a pace that puts card carrying UHaul Caribiner Lesbians to shame so he's pretending he doesn't know. "Serious question, actually. I - you always use 'partner' when you're talking about your - the guys you - exes? and I don't want to make you uncomfortable but I - I kinda like boyfriend."

'Your - the guys you - exes' incorporates a fair number of pillow talk confessions Tommy's made about the overly casual relationships he's maintained in the past for months (years, sometimes) without a real label, so Tommy doesn't take offense to the way he stumbled through it. He's so utterly charmed by this man.

"Boyfriend is fine," Tommy tells him, because he doesn't really have a preference, either way. Partner is - easier. Partner had worked well for him when he was newly out and trying desperately to make it seem like he was a regular old member of the community, and not shitting his pants every time someone referenced Tommy dating a man, like it was a completely normal occurrence and not at all something he'd spent decades trying to hide. A transition phrase, really, only he'd gotten used to it and then he'd hit thirty-five, and then forty, and the first semi-serious relationship he'd had he'd used partner, and it'd stuck.

He's ready for a real kiss, now that that's decided, but Evan twirls away before Tommy can angle his head in for it. Something is sizzling in a skillet when Evan takes the lid off, and Tommy resorts to eyeing the pull of his shirt across his shoulders so he doesn't do something ridiculous like pout about not getting his mind-altering greeting kiss.

This is a pair of jeans Tommy hasn't seen before - lighter wash than Evan usually prefers, and doing absolutely amazing things for his ass as he shifts from foot to foot.

"Come taste," Evan says, darting a look over his shoulder and absolutely catching the way Tommy's eyes bounce up guiltily. They are apparently just blazing right past the 'boyfriend' thing.

It's - too early. Maybe. Tommy's never had the greatest idea for when relationship milestones are meant to happen, or in what order they should happen in. He's not about to ask Eddie, Mr. Move A Girl In And Have Her Watch My Kid While I Engage In An Emotional Affair With My Dead Wife's Doppelganger.

Which is a shame, because Eddie's one of the few friends he has that will really get into the nitty gritty of feelings conversations without a million no homo disclaimers, like Tommy isn't incredibly aware of how Not homo his friends are. Like Tommy has ever shown an inkling of attraction to ninety-nine percent of them (Sal, at his bitchiest east-coast moments, a glaring exception to a general rule).

He's too busy licking sauce off the spoon Evan's already blown on to cool for him to give it too much more thought. Screw appropriate timing.

"Mmm," he murmurs, when Evan raises a brow. "Needs more garlic."

"You always say that."

And Tommy feels a little warm, beneath his sternum, at the idea that they've done this enough times for Evan to be saying things like 'you always say that' with more than a hint of exasperation.

"Am I ever wrong?"

Evan pouts, and it's adorable in all the best ways. "No," he pouts some more.

Tommy finds himself a stool, and takes a moment to recalibrate, to resettle into his bones. He slides a finger along the edge of a leaf of the plant sitting front and center on the island, bought two weeks ago at a farmers market he'd had to drag Evan out of bed for. It's a little over watered. He's been meaning to tell Evan for three days now.

Tommy breathes, and breathes, and breathes some more. The plant - Geraldine, according to a very concentrated Evan, who'd stared at the thing until a name 'spoke to him' - stares back with the yellowed edges of her leaves.

"You don't mind partner, do you?" he asks, when he feels like he has his bearings again. He could... probably switch it up. Make an attempt, at least. The other option hovers over him like an anvil, just waiting for the Benny Hill music to cue up, for Tommy to think it a little too hard and a marriage proposal to come pouring out of his mouth in a comedy of errors that ends with them hitched in Vegas without any alcohol to blame. He doesn't need Eddie to tell him that is too much too soon.

Evan shifts his weight so that he can keep stirring while still maintaining eye contact. "No. It's - it's nice."

"A ringing endorsement. Evan, if you prefer -."

"I wanna be that. For you. Whenever - I mean I called you my boyfriend today on a call and Chim gave me shit for it the rest of the day but I started thinking about it. If - if you ever refer to me like that. Partner is... partner will be good." He's tiptoeing around the point, the whole reason he'd brought it up in the first place, no doubt.

Tommy can't remember ever having this specific conversation before. He'd so rarely needed it, had kept his work and personal life so separate that if the word slipped he never needed to worry about it getting back to the guy he was seeing at the time.

Tommy isn't reading into the preferences outlined. Partner, for Evan. Boyfriend, for Tommy.

"Am I --." Tommy pauses. He can tell based solely on Evan's reaction that he's doing a horrendous job of hiding the uncertainty in his expression. "Why boyfriend?" he finally settles on.

Evan's face flushes pink. "I...kinda didn't mean to say it? I - well it almost came out as My Tommy, and Hen would have died laughing and probably renamed you in the group chat. But. It was. I said it and it felt." He gestures, unsure himself now, which wasn't Tommy's intention. "I know we haven't talked about it. It's probably way too soon and you're just indulging me, but it felt like - like finally getting the last word in the Sunday Crossword. In pen."

He's constantly knocking it out of the park with contrived analogies that somehow make Tommy want to curl up under twenty blankets and watch Love Actually with a pint of Americone Dream. Tommy's gonna give him the extra spare that's been dangling off his keychain for a week and a half.

"Evan," he says, heart in his throat, the heavenly scent of garlic tickling his nose. "You gotta stop saying romantic shit to me or I'm gonna lock you in my spare room until I find a ring that doesn't come off."

It's not a proposal. They're - this is all - neither one of them has any chill about the other. He's shared secrets with this man he was sure he'd take to his fucking grave.

Evan smiles cheekily at him. "I always figured, with the job, y'know, I'd get a tattoo."

The hair on his arms stands on end, for a moment. Christ.

Jesus Christ.

"Sounds painful," he says, when he can't come up with a single way to bounce out of this conversation. He doesn't want to, is the problem.

He should want to, maybe. Probably.

"And, like, super permanent," Evan adds, still smiling, eyes doing that crinkly thing at the corners. "Definitely won't come off. Not without painful lasers, anyway."

"Better to just keep it, then," Tommy murmurs, voice a few registers lower than he usually speaks, doing everything in his power not to stare at the bare left hand Evan has settled on his own hip.

He blinks, and turns to stir the sauce. Clears his throat, and settles the lid back on the pan. "So. Boyfriend. It's - you don't mind- I can call you that."

Tommy watches him fidget and wonders how he'd ever managed to keep it cool for as long as he did. "For now," he says, and Evan swallows, and beams

[peachysunrize]

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Word count: 5.1k+

Warnings: tensionnnnnn, alcohol consumption (just wine) & fluff! English isn’t my first language <3

A/n: ‘m not gonna say anything more than just that ITS THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING NEW!! Reblog & comments are most appreciated🍊🧡

Taglist: if you’d like to be tagged in the future chapters, please fill this form with your username!

Updates: every Saturday!!

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Chapter 3: The beginning of something new

He leans back on the chair, his book abandoned next to him on the desk as he carves a line on the wooden pallet, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the sound of wood getting cut echoing in the old workshop.

He’s been here since early morning, all of his thoughts are consumed by you and your talk a few days ago. There’s still a part of him that is immensely guilty for how he treated you, especially after you told him about that Lannister boy. 

He is heard and understood, maybe not by someone he expected, but the sweetness and calmness in this revelation makes it more special. You’ve been in the background image of his life for so long, someone always present yet too far and out of reach. But now, you’ve turned into someone important, someone he can rely on and trust wholeheartedly. 

He sighs, letting the chisels fall from his hand on the table as he stretches his arms, groaning as he cracks his back and slowly lumps in the chair, glancing at Vhagar who does the same and slowly walks towards him, jumping on him to cuddle — the chair is so little to have them both sitting on it together, so Aemond has to hold Vhagar to his chest with a hand under her belly while she rests her head on his forearm as the other hand rubs slowly circle on her back.

Vhagar barks suddenly, jumping down to go near the door, alerting Aemond that someone is coming. He also stands up, grabs his abandoned book from the table, and walks towards Vhagar who is clawing at the door before he opens it and lets her out, locking the door workshop’s door behind him.

He follows her, watching as she bolts through the bushes and trees to reach whoever is approaching them. He hears your voice, melodically and softly when you start talking to Vhagar, giggling and letting her probably lick your face.

“Morning!” You say as soon as you spot him, strengthening your back before you stand up, holding two cups of coffee in your hands, “I couldn’t find you in the library, so I thought you’re probably taking a walk with your old lady.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “we had an early morning, and she gets restless and impatient when she doesn’t set foot outside.”

“Here’s your coffee, little nerd,” you hand him his cup, stepping closer to him until you’re only mere inches away from him, looking up at him through your lashes.

Aemond’s break is stuck in his throat as he looks down at you, he gulps when he sees you reach for his face, pushing his glasses up so he sees better. Your touch is warm against his skin, but your smile is warmer, more welcoming than anything he’s ever seen.

Get a grip, he thinks to himself as he thanks you quietly, clearing his throat before he wraps his long fingers around the hot mug. 

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He asks, glancing back at the workshop door quickly.

“What’s that?” You turn around and follow his gaze, pointing at the door hiding behind the trees.

“Oh, um, that��” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “nothing, just an abandoned storeroom,” Aemond shrugs, the book in his hands falling to the ground as his palm grows clammy.

“Shit—“

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” you crouch down to grab the book, smiling softly when you look up and find Aemond turning red with embarrassment, especially when you glance at the book in your hand, “No way.”

“Give me that, please—“ he tries to snatch it out of your hand, but you hold it behind your back, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning, taking a sip from your coffee to hide your smile, “tell me why you are reading Maester Orwyle’s book of Philosophy!”

“To kill some time, now please—“ he sighs, gesturing to you to give him the book by his hand while the ghost of a smirk finds its way to his face, “Don’t be ridiculous and give me the book so we can both go back to the house.”

“Nope,” you take a step away from him and he matches your huge grin as he extends his hand again, “if you want it, you should come get it.”

“Come on,” Aemond groans, “I’m not the five-year-old kid who used to chase you around the house to steal one of your books!”

“I’m not saying you should chase me, but maybe say please a few more times then I’ll agree—no!” You squeal when he leans over and snatches the book out of your hands, his tall and lean frame making it impossible for you to hold it back anymore, “You’re no fun!”

“Someone has to be the adult of this friendship,” he says, securing the book under his arm as he walks ahead of you, turning around to look at you, pointing at the path in front of you with his head, “Come on.”

“Fine, fine!” You laugh, following him towards the path leading to the backyard and the Weirwood tree.

The sound of friendship left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, something he only felt when Alys would give him backhanded compliments, but he knows you, maybe even much better than he ever knew his ex-fiance, and with the talk you had a few days ago, he is left confused. Not by your actions no, but by your words; it is hard to find someone who’s had the same experience, especially with someone so understanding and willing to share them.

“Don’t sulk now, Little nerd,” you bump your shoulder to him, watching him take a long sip of his coffee, “tell me about the book, it mustn’t be the first time you’re reading it.”

“Of course not,” he sighs and continues, “he was a friend of my grandfather, no one knows what happened to their friendship after this book was written, but apparently all the answers are in this—“

“You can’t be reading this giant hard-to-swallow book just because you wanna know about your grandpa's failed friendship,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, “come on, tell me the truth!”

“No,” he gives you a pointed look, “this is the truth.”

“Alright,” you smile at him, not wanting to pressure him if he truly doesn’t wish to explain it, walking side by side with him until the trees are behind you except the Weirwood tree that looks so beautiful under the morning sunlight.

“The coffee is perfect…” he hums in delight as he glances at you, holding the mug in one hand with his arm keeping the book rightly against his body while he puts his right hand on the small of your back, walking slowly to your right side to be able to look at you more comfortably.

“My goodness, Aemond, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize—“ you try to apologize but he cuts you off with a slow shake of his head.

“It’s okay, don’t fret about it,” he rubs circles on your waist as you walk towards the house, the sunshine casting a glow on your face, and he fights off a smile when he sees how your eyes shine, “how did you find out I like my coffee with three sugars?”

“You’re not too hard to read,” you chuckle a little leaning to his side as he keeps his palm secured on your waist, “I observe people, mostly my friends and I wanted to make sure you were alright after everything, so I kept a close eye on you. Turns out you have a horrible sweet tooth!”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it yet,” he teases you, finishing his coffee in a sip, “Hel and I used to bake together, a silly hobby she took when Viserys and Mum separated. It was only simple cakes and bread but you know me, I can’t settle for less than perfection.”

“So you started to get better and better.”

“Yeah, it turns out Hel & I would make an excellent team, many of the birthday cakes were on us,” he explains, handing you the book so you’d hold it for him so he can open the door for you when you reach the building, “if you’re lucky, you’ll get a special birthday cake from me one day.”

“Stop being so talented—oh, fuck—“ you yell in shock when Vhagar runs past the two of you, knocking to your legs, making you lose your grip on your coffee and having it spill on Aemond’s book.

“I’m so sorry, fuck, I should have finished it first…” your voice grows quieter as you open the drenched book, reading the first page’s note, “Is this…?”

“Yeah,” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “it’s yours.”

“No wonder I was looking for it when I got back home after another vacation spent here,” you laugh, tracing your finger over the blue note, “I caught you reading it in your old stable. Why would you go there to read?” It was full of horseshit, yet you seemed to like it.”

“Well, it was the only place no one seemed to want to spend any time there. Best place to read the book I stole from you,” he follows you inside the building to the kitchen to leave your cups there, “besides, you’d find me and discuss the book anyway, maybe I wanted you to find me.”

“You seem to enjoy that, don’t you? Me always finding you?” You ask him after you put the book on the kitchen island, turning around to look at him.

It seems like he has caged you with his body, he is standing close, probably closer than he should but not too much to deem it inappropriate for friends, and when you look up at him, he is sure the distance between the two of you has decreased considerably — physically and mentally.

“I like the idea,” he whispers, his good eye never leaving your face as you stare at each other before he clears his throat and pulls away a bit, giving you an awkward smile, “I think Hel and others are in the TV room.”

You nod hesitantly, moving past him towards the other room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He sighs shakily, swallowing the lump in his throat before he decides to join you after he puts his cup away.

When he enters the room he finds you leaning on the back of the coach and Helaena is curled up on your side with Dreamfyre resting her head on Hel’s calves. His brothers are playing yet another round of Mortal Kombat — which he is sure Aegon insisted on. He looks around for Vhagar, and when he can’t find her, he assumes she must be in the library, taking her morning nap.

“Morning.”

“Hey, Aemy!” Aegon greets him, “We thought you were kidnapped when you didn’t join us for breakfast.” “Fuck off, I don’t have the patience to deal with you today,” Aemond grumbles, throwing his head back, and closing his eye before he is hit by a cushion, followed by a loud snort and soft giggles from you and Helaena, “What the fuck was the for?”

“You need to have patience! This is our summer, we will be annoying you until you give up this crappy attitude and enjoy your time with us here! Who knows when we’ll gather together like this again! You live here now with Daeron and Mum, I live in Oldtown, She,” Helaena points at you, “lives in Rosby, and Aegon… well he floats around the country.”

“I have a home, you little bitch—” “Doesn’t seem like it when you constantly show up at our places,” you say, earning a loud gasp from Aegon before he pouts and rolls his eyes at you, turning around towards Daeron with a glare when he laughs at him before he says ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ and they start playing again.

“You know what we should do this week?” Helaena asks suddenly, sitting up with glee, “Aegon should throw one of his infamous parties! That way not only our dear brother will get better and forget about everything even for a few hours, but we get to have some fucking fun!”

“I thought you didn’t like parties,” Daeron pauses the game, turning around to give his sister a pointed look. Aemond does the same, but instead, he glances at you and finds you already looking at him, giving him a tight-lipped awkward smile before the two of you look away from each other and focus on Helaena.

“I do! But that doesn’t mean I loathe them, besides, Aegon’s parties are fun, they are not like Mum’s when we have to sit in awfully formal clothes, sipping on champagne like high-class ladies.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but you are a high-class lady,” you say, earning a nod from everyone in the room.

“That’s not my point,” she groans, chuckling when you side-eye her, “I just wanna have fun, and Aegon is fun—” “Did you hear that, pirate?” Aegon points at Aemond, laughing when he is met with a glare from his younger brother, “She thinks I’m fun, not you, me!”

“Don’t make her change her mind,” Aemond sighs, sneering at his older brother. “Aemond is fun, mind you,” you defend him, giving Aegon a pointed look which makes Daeron laugh out loud, “You are just too chaotic to  understand him.” “And you do?” Aegon scoffs, and Aemond senses something is going to happen, that his brother can’t simply keep his large mouth shut, “his fiance didn’t find him fun—” “Jeez, Aegon!” Daeron yells, face twisted in disbelief.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask him, scoffing at Aegon’s scared look, “You are always mean to him.” “I am not!” “Shut the fuck up I’m talking,” Aemond looks at you, surprised by your outburst, “he needs your support more than ever, his face and his life are now all over the fucking internet! Have you considered how hurt he must be? Of course, you haven’t because you don’t think. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened constantly when he is trying his best to move on!”

“I—” Aegon can’t say anything as he looks at you like you have grown another head.

Aemond is as equally shocked as others, he fights off a huge smile as he watches you defend him, his lips parted in surprise, jaw on the floor while you talk and put Aegon in his place.

“Morning my loves,” Alicent comes to the rescue, looking around the room to find Helaena and Aemond looking at you with a pleased smile while Aegon shrinks under your gaze and Daeron nearly falls on the floor with how hard he’s laughing, “What’s going on here?” “I thought maybe I could throw a party!” Aegon speaks, avoiding your gaze as he looks at his mum, “A month has passed from summer and I have yet to throw one of my infamous spontaneous parties!” “Alright, but you know—” “I know, I know! In the guest wing, no drugs, no strippers—” “You brought strippers to your parties?” Aemond asks, giving Aegon a disapproving look who in return only smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Did you forget your insanely cool bachelor party? Did you think I brought random girls to give you a lap dance—” “Okay enough!” Alicent laughs awkwardly, “There are better times to discuss these matters! I have more important things to tell you.” “Like what?” Daeron asks.

“New Gossip Girls season dropped?” Aegon looks at you shrugging when you snort at his question.

“Be serious for a fucking second please,” Aemond warns his brother before he looks at Alicent softly, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, nothing! In fact, I kind of have a surprise for all of you. Not a huge surprise but I wanted to take you somewhere,” she explains, stroking her neck in nervousness.

“Where do you wanna take us, Mum? Hopefully nowhere near Father,” Hel says, making everyone sigh in relief when Alicent shakes his head.

“No, of course not!” she scoffs as if even the idea of seeing her ex-husband disgusted her — and it did — she continued, “Do you remember when I told you I had put the winery under a reconstruction? And specifically told you to not go there?”

“No?” Daeron answers, confused as he tries to remember when Alicent told them to not go there, “I doubt you did, Mum.”

“You have a winery?” you ask, a joyful smile comes on your face when Hel nods excitedly.

“Not just a winery but a vineyard!” “Oh, wow! I had no idea!” “Well, it’s your lucky day because now it’s useable again!” Alicent matches your enthusiasm, “Also, this is not just to show you the vineyard, but…” she looks at Aemond, “It’s Aemond’s birthday too!” “It’s not,” he replies, glancing at you quickly, “It’s in a few weeks.”

“Well it doesn’t matter because I am going to throw a party for you, and for that, we need to have a winetasting session and choose a few bottles for that occasion!”

“Mum, there is no need—” “Do shut up, asshole,” Aegon teases him, “what do you mean there is no need? Those are gonna be for your birthday, and also, I don’t have to drink in secret!” “I’m afraid I agree with Aegon,” Hel says, you and Daeron nod in encouragement, and Aemond has no choice but to also agree and surrounder, but it’ll be worth it, he thinks, because the way your eyes light up at the idea of visiting their vineyard makes his heart beat faster.

“Alright then” Alicent claps, shooing you all out of the TV room, “Wear something cool, I don’t want you to get sick under this god-awful heat.”

••••••••••

You and Hel put on your sundresses and you help her apply sunscreen on the back of her neck, covering her pale skin so she won’t burn under the awfully hot sun. The weather is exceptionally warm today and you regret agreeing to go to the vineyard without cars as soon as you step outside.

Aemond and Aegon are already there, smoking together as they wait for you and Hel to reach them. Aemond sends an endearing smile your way when he spots you, taking in the sight of you; you look beautiful, with your smile and the baby blue sundress you are wearing.

“Alright, ladies! Choose your gentleman— hey! At least let me finish,” Aegon whines when you loop your arm with Aemond, making a gagging sound when Aemond rests his palm on top of yours, “Ew, get a fucking room. Come on, Hel, we’re cooler than them.”

You chuckle when Aegon throws his arm around Helaena’s shoulders, taking the lead towards the vineyard not before he gives you a middle finger.

“Asshole,” you mutter, leaning your head on Aemond’s arm as you walk side by side, “since when did you guys have a vineyard? I’ve been Helaena’s friend for years and not once did she mention anything about it.”

“It was Viserys’ vineyard, everything belonged to him, but after Mum filed for divorce and the evidence she had against him, he gave it all away,” he explains, his thumb caressing your knuckles, “I’m glad though, Mum deserves this. I mean we weren’t in need of a huge house in King’s Landing, Old Town was enough for us anyway, but after what he put her through, she really deserved it.”

“Alicent is strong, I’m not sure if I could handle such a mind wrecking thing,” you sigh, squeezing his arm as you smile at the memories you wish to tell him, “I remember when your parents were getting divorced, Helaena would spend days with me at my Grandparents’ country house, she’d bring Dreamfyre too. It felt like an eternity when we were together.”

“Hel has that effect, time doesn’t pass with her,” He agrees, both of you waving when Helaena looks back and blows you a kiss, “I feel like that with you too, maybe because we have shared interests.”

“You’re lucky,” you reply softly, bumping your shoulder to his, “because I feel the same. Every talk we have had since we were kids till now is a core memory of mine. Yeah, Hel will always be my favorite, my best friend, but you are different from everyone I’ve met, you mean so much to me.”

“You’re a dear friend or at least a dear friend to my sister,” he laughs a little, “I remember those days though, it was just me and Daeron in this huge house. Aegon was somewhere probably fucking and drinking and doing drugs while I had to take care of Daeron. He was too young to understand anything.”

“I wish things were different…”

“I don’t,” you look at him, confused and intrigued, “Maybe my eye, yes, but… I’m glad he is no longer a part of our lives, I could care less if he drops dead tomorrow, I’m happy he is no longer here to pester us about Rhaenyra or anyone.”

As soon as you try to answer him, a huge truck goes past you at a fast pace, and in an instant, Aemond wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to his side, keeping you close to his body as he steps between you and the road.

You pant, hands fisting the front of his shirt in terror as you try to regain your breathing. Aemond looks down at you, his fingers keeping you tightly against him as his other hand reaches to caress your cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod, resting your forehead on his chest as he embraces you, “Yeah, I think I am.”

“We’re here, come on,” he finds Aegon and Hel already waiting for you, and gestures for you to follow them inside, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Little nerd, I’m fine,” you reach and squeeze his hand, holding it as you walk through the entrance of the winery, finding Alicent, Daeron, and Cole already there.

“We’ll start with the winery!” Alicent announces, walking ahead of everyone with Criston on her side, “I’ve asked Qoren Martell to send us a very professional wine taster from Dorne to help us choose, and… here he is!”

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Hightower,” the old man nods at Alicent, shaking her hand gracefully, “I’ve been told you produce different wines here.”

You let go of Aemond and meet Helaena midway as she takes your hand and walks with you behind her Mum and Cole, pointing at different parts of the winery. At first, you see the huge Grape-filled bowls getting crushed, the noises are loud but the fruits look so juicy and sweet.

“This is incredible!” You tell Hel as the group walks toward the next room, watching in awe how huge these oak barrels are. There are probably hundreds of them, with one glass under each so if someone wants to taste the wine straight from the barrels would have easy access.

Helaena pulls you to the next room, not just you but the Targaryen siblings are shocked as well.

“You genius,” Aegon calls his mother, “This is insane!” “I have to agree,” Aemond looks around with his hands in the pocket of his shorts as he walks toward you and Helaena, “Our previous wine cellar was so little it barely fit two people in it. This is…” “Gorgeous,” you finish his sentence and take a good look at the wine cellar; the room is rounded, the walls are curved and the temperature is low to keep the bottles cold. The shelves start from the ground to the ceiling, all of them filled to the brim with different wines in each specific section, 

“It’s amazing, right?” Alicent asks, looking at her handiwork excitedly.

“You’re amazing…” It came out as a really really hushed whisper, but you and Aemond heard it correctly, Cole did say that.

You press your lips to contain your laugh when your eyes meet Aemond’s, finding him shaking his head as he reaches to rub over the huge round dining table in the middle of the room, smoothing his palm over the surface of the wood.

“Shall we start?” Alicent asks, and when you all say yes, she tells the older man to bring the bottles one by one.

You take a seat with Hel and Aemond on your sides at the table, waiting for the old Dornish man to bring the bottles. You see two other men bring a few plates filled with different cheeses and bread rolls.

“When will we see the vineyard?” You ask the siblings, pouting when Aemond chuckles at you, “Hey! Not everyone grew up with tons of money.”

“I’m not making fun of you if that’s what you’re thinking,” he replies, reaching to play with the rim of his glass, his white shirt stretching against his biceps, “your eagerness is cute.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You hide your face in your hands, laughing when Hel reaches to stroke your back, “Fine, but you need to take me there as soon as we’re done here.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, and all of you watch as Cole and the old man bring four bottles; Cabernet Sauvignon, Dornish Red, Rosè, and Chardonnay.

“Bring it on, old man,” Aegon whistles, plopping down on the chair next to the head of the table, bowing his head dramatically when Alicent sits.

You start with the Dornish Red and observe all of the siblings closely; Helaena sips gently and takes a piece of cheese immediately, Daeron and Alicent go on the exact same pace while humming at the same time, Aegon chugs the entire liquid and doesn’t let interest even for a second but Aemond… well you have only seen this move in social media but to see his slim and elegant fingers wrapped around the thin glass as he first looks at the color of the wine then swirls the liquid around before taking a whiff of the smell and after that a sip that follows with a deep rumbling from his chest.

You look away as soon as you sense he might turn around and catch you red-handed, taking a long sip of your glass before coughing at the too-sour taste of it.

“Not your favorite, huh?” Hel asks, handing you a piece of bread.

“Absolutely not,” you clear your throat before shooting Aemond a glare when he chuckles at you, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “Come on, let's taste the next one.”

The next one is the white wine, it tastes much better than the Dornish Red, less sour but the bitterness of it is intolerable — you are by no means new to drinking alcohol, but wine has always been a tricky drink for you. You go through the third bottle as well, but again, it doesn’t taste excellent, until Aemond opens the Rosè, his arm bulging as he pulls up the corkscrew, making a delicious sound of ‘pop’. 

“Here you go!” Alicent says as she brings a huge plate of lime and Tangerines to the table to cleanse your pallets before you have the next drink.

“How did you find Tangerines in the summer?” You ask excitedly, side eyeing Aemond as he pours the wine in your glasses before he sits down and grabs the Tangerine from you.

“Not easy to find, but you can trust Criston with these things,” she looks at Cole who’s standing in the door frame with a glass of Dornish Red. How typical.

“What are you doing?” You ask Aemond before you take a sip from your drink, humming in joy as you finally taste the most delicious Rosè you could have ever had.

“What does it look like? I’m peeling it for you,” he answers as if you have asked the most stupid question ever.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” you smile at him, completely dumbfounded by the amount of consideration he’s shown towards you today. You must look so bashful as you avert your eyes from him and stare into your glass, trying to stop the thoughts from flowing in your mind.

“Here,” he hands you the peeled Tangerine before he rises up from his seat and extends his hand to you, “come on, I promised you a tour and the vineyard looks so beautiful now.”

“Alright,” you put your hand in his, letting him pull you on your feet effortlessly, keeping you straight when you wobble a bit. You thank him shyly, reaching to grab your glass as well and leave the wine cellar. 

“Why did the previous cellar not have enough room for all of you?” You ask suddenly, eating a piece of the Tangerine and offering him one as he leads you towards the staircase that reaches the vineyard.

“It was Viserys’, not ours,” he shrugs, “besides, Daeron and I were underage, we couldn’t drink—“

“This is… beautiful,” you exclaim the moment you step on the grass-covered path, the rows of Grenache trees have made a breathtaking sight, “how can you visit here so little? This is out of this world!”

“I’m glad you like it here,” Aemond smiles softly at you, watching as you slowly walk through the path, finishing your fruit before you reach and take one of the leaves between your fingers, slowly caressing it before taking a sip of your wine.

“It’s so dreamy, why didn’t you hold your wedding here?” You facepalm yourself, giving him an apologetic smile, “Sorry…”

“Sometimes people just… forget, and I think that’s what I want too, but… the wound is still fresh, I think about her more than I should,” he steps next to you, one hand in his pocket while the other swirls the rose wine in his glass, “besides, this place is too beautiful to waste it on someone like Alys, yeah, I loved her but…I was blinded by her sweet words.”

“I know, it’ll take a little while to get there, you know. Sometimes you feel unworthy, so ugly and bruised by everything but… it’ll get better.”

“It will, this place helps a bit, and I’m sure Aegon’s massive parties will be very helpful as well,” he grins at you.

“Yeah? Well, it definitely feels like a new beginning, right?” You ask him, taking a step away from him, biting your lip while smiling, keeping your eyes on him as he scoffs, “Which one will you choose for your birthday party, sir?”

“Which one did you like?” He asks and takes a step forward, finishing his glass. He hears his Mum calling you to go for lunch, but before you go, you answer him.

“The Rosè.”

[boulevardk]

Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by. 

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that. 

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally. 

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru. 

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong. 

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle. 

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth. 

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this. 

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through. 

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother. 

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance. 

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose. 

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck. 

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room. 

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.” 

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand. 

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly. 

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt. 

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back. 

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by. 

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out. 

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place. 

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now. 

And that drove you nuts. 

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?” 

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers. 

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question. 

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did. 

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer. 

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself. 

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful. 

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. 

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up. 

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation. 

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top. 

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer. 

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away. 

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was. 

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now. 

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds. 

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done. 

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you. 

That can be for another time. 

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts. 

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.” 

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter. 

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on? 

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released. 

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel. 

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

“Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars. 

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway. 

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch. 

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat. 

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences. 

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit. 

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain. 

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly. 

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane. 

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding. 

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point. 

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well. 

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless. 

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going. 

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place. 

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches. 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

[seunmong-in]

🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder. 

Words: 2.1k 

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N. 

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

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365 days. 

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n. 

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

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Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined. 

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you." 

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet. 

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

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After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine." 

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds. 

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him. 

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes. 

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes. 

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence. 

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

[viixenvi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is your bodyguard. Recently hired to be by your side everywhere you go. Your father, the president, deemed her the perfect bodyguard for you. Apparently, she's known for getting her job done and has never once had an incident. You make it your mission to be unbearable so she can back off and you can have fun. Until one day, you get too frustrated and Natasha can't help but be there for you.

Characters: Bodyguard!Natasha x First daughter!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, nicknames (Милая=darling), cuddling, kissing, reader being overly sexual (in the beginning)

A/N: First daughter x bodyguard is something I've been wanting to write!! As always forgive me for any mistakes this was not proofread!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

You sit on the counter of the kitchen. The white house has many places you love, but the kitchen might just be your favorite. You lick the spoon as you look at Natasha. She is standing across from you by the door. There are two other agents outside the room.

Natasha watches you intently, her eyes on your lips. She doesn't hide her hard stare. Natasha was professional, but you made it extra hard. You made it your mission to break her. You hoped if you did it then your father would lessen the security he had with you constantly.

"This is so good, you want some?" You pull the spoon out of your mouth and extend your hand toward Natasha. She just shakes her head and averts her gaze.

You sigh and jump off the counter, making sure she can see your boobs bounce when your feet hit the cold floor. Natasha follows behind you, keeping a slight distance.

All you can hear is her footsteps behind you as you walk toward your bedroom. There are two guards stationed across the hall either way. Natasha stops and takes her post in front of your bedroom. You giggle to yourself as You realize you have the perfect plan for her to crack.

When you get into your bedroom, you rush to the closet and pull off your shirt. Your pink bra and shorts are all you have on now. You reach to unclip your bra but purposefully pretend you can't reach it.

"Natasha!" You call out, she comes into the room with her hand at her belt where her gun is. When she sees you she immediately looks around to not look at your body.

"Yes, Y/n?" She questions. You turn and point to your bra clip.

"Can you help, I'm stuck," You whine slightly, hoping it's believable. Natasha walks to you slowly, you can feel her eyes burning into the skin on your back.

She had never seen you undressed before. Sure she's seen her fair share of your scandalous clothes, but never anything like this.

Her warm breath hits your neck as her fingers graze your back. You can feel a shiver go down your spine. She quickly unhooks your bra and turns around to give you privacy.

"Thanks, Natasha," You say in a whisper, you throw the bra to her feet and pull your shorts off slowly. You know she can see you through the mirror on her right.

Natasha takes a deep breath and tries to look away, but she can't stop from trying to see every inch of your skin. She was a professional, but you made it so damn hard for it to stay that way.

"If there is nothing else Y/n?" Natasha's voice is low. She goes to walk away but your hands on her arm make her stop.

"Help me pick out pajamas," you stop yourself from moving your hands any lower. You didn't really realize it, but at some point, this dumb mission stopped being pretend.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but this is extremely unprofessional and I must say no to your request." Natasha's tone makes you step back.

"Oh. Sorry. You can go." You turn around and grab your robe off the couch. Natasha walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. You stand in front of the mirror and look down at the bra sitting on the floor.

You didn't like the way you listened to her. Natasha had to go, it didn't matter what she felt. Right?

You sigh and walk to your bed, pulling the covers up and slipping under them. You open your laptop and put on a random video. You weren't even watching it, you just needed some background sound.

You pulled out your makeup, you had a person to do it but you had been practicing. Eyeliner was the one thing you couldn't get right. Your hands always shook and it was hard to get it right.

You held the liquid eyeliner pencil in your hand and got close to the mirror you used to do your eyebrows. The tip of the pencil was slightly dried out from all the times you used it. You press down and it messes up the line, making it chunky and messy. You wipe it off and keep trying.

After your sixth attempt, you finally get frustrated enough to throw the eyeliner pencil across the room. You let out a frustrated groan before you hear the door opening.

Natasha is standing at the door, looking down at the eyeliner and then back at you. You are crying a little from not being able to get it right and you know the eyeliner on your face is messy and streaking down your cheeks.

"Get out! Why do you never leave me the fuck alone?" You shout at Natasha. She doesn't deserve it but you need someone to get your frustrations out on.

Natasha raises her eyebrow and picks up the pencil off the floor. She shuts the door behind her and locks it, which you don't notice. You turn your head away from the direction she's coming from. You feel embarrassed she has to see you like this but that doesn't stop you from crying.

These tears weren't just from not being able to do eyeliner. You were frustrated because you realized that somewhere along the way, you caught feelings for Natasha. Everything you did may have just made her want to leave and that was not what you wanted anymore.

Natasha stands next to you, one hand reaching for your chin and moving your head to face her. You can't help but look up at her through your lashes. There is a smile on her face and she takes a seat on your vanity's stool.

You look at her face, she is stunningly beautiful and her red hair makes it better.

"What's wrong Милая?" she asks as she grabs a makeup wipe and holds your chin so you don't move. (darling)

"Nothing," you whisper while she wipes the eyeliner off. You feel her warm breaths again and you love it. Her hands are so soft and you hate the way you can't stop looking at her lips.

You had spent weeks trying to get her to quit and now you sat here wishing she'd never leave.

"It had to have been something, no?"

"I'm sorry." You look down, pulling away from her grasp on your chin. You can't let her touch you like this if you want her to stay.

"Sorry? about what?" Natasha looks at you, confused.

"I've been making your time here as bad as possible just so you could quit and Dad would let me have less security," you explain. Natasha smiles as if she finds it amusing.

"I know," is all she says as she gets up and starts to walk away. You get up and grab her wrist. She turns around and looks at you.

"What do you mean you knew? How di-" You are cut off by Natasha pushing her lips onto yours. You didn't move for a few seconds, afraid if you did then this would all be a dream.

Then her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and you finally kiss her back. Her lips were as soft as you had thought and that same shiver went down your spine again.

Natasha pulls away first, letting you get air. You stand there frozen for a moment. Natasha had kissed you and you kissed her back.

"God, I've been waiting to do that since I got here," Natasha shrugs, chuckling a bit at your reaction. Her hands find their way to your waist again as she spins you and sits on the bed. She pulls you onto her lap and you feel your face start to go red.

"Natasha, what about your job?" You question, suddenly remembering that she works for your father.

"I don't care about my job, as long as I can finally have you." Natasha kisses your lips then your cheek and then your neck. You push her away playfully and she lays you on your bed. You close your laptop and Natasha climbs in rich next to you.

You yawn and look at the time on your alarm clock. It's way past the time you'd normally go to bed and Natasha knew that.

"Go to sleep Милая, I'll stay here till you do." She wraps her arms around you, the blanket over the both of you. You close your eyes and move your head closer to her chest. She smells so good and you inhale the scent as you relax in her arms.

"Goodnight Милая," Natasha whispers in your ear, her left hand running through your hair to make you sleep faster.

[rhettabbotts]

baby, if you only knew - dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

summary: tensions boil over and everything changes for you and rhett one night at a rancher’s event you attend.

w/c: 5.4k (she’s a mammoth)

warnings: 18+ only. smut. age gap (babysitter 20s, rhett 40s). dirty talk. making out in an elevator. daddy kink. possessive rhett. slightly rough sex. cunnilingus. hair pulling. overstimulation. size kink. aftercare. rhett’s grey hair. some fluff.

a/n: i can see you by taylor swift is to blame for this. enjoy the filth! also couldn’t stop myself from adding some babysitter lore. also see green, green dress from tick, tick…boom! for the dress reference!

Six months. Six long, tortuous months of working under Rhett Abbott’s roof.

Okay, it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be in your head. His daughters were angels, and you appreciated that he worked with your school schedule as you attended your graduate program. And he let you live in his guest room rent free.

But it was sweet torture. You had fallen hard for the single father of two and it made every day even harder than the last. Rhett was a wonderful man, an attentive father, and a hell of a cook. A hard worker and he was so handsome, you could hardly breathe around him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the cowboy?

You tried everything in the world to rid your thoughts of him, but you were highly unsuccessful. And he only did things that made it worse. Every time you brushed by him in the halls it felt like electricity coursed through your entire body. He had to feel it too, right?

Delusional. That’s what you were. You were the babysitter. Nothing more. Eventually, the girls would grow up and you wouldn’t be needed anymore. And that thought caused your chest to tighten painfully.

What a thought to have while washing the dishes. You heard your name but it sounded far off, like your ears were full of cotton.

“Tilly, come quick!” Grace shouted once more to get your attention. It made you turn abruptly, soap suds went flying as you dropped the ceramic pot you were washing. “Sorry,” she mumbled when you glared slightly at her.

“What’s wrong, Gracie?” you questioned as you wiped your hands off with the flower embroidered kitchen towel. Something you bought and put out to leave your own touch on this place.

“Oh. Nothing. Ellie just wanted to show you that we won our game.” The girls had been obsessed with Super Mario Brothers and had been playing it for days.

“That’s great guys! How about we take a break and you help me get dinner started?”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Ellie, Rhett’s younger daughter pouted, bright blue eyes pleading. She and Grace were the carbon copies of Rhett. Same eyes, same nose, same crooked smile. You could never say no to them.

“Of course. But don’t tell your dad,” you whispered, placing your finger to your lips like it was a top secret.

The girls helped you finish the food just as Rhett came in from another long day of herding and branding cattle. He was dusty, covered in dirt and sweat and tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead, the ends curling up. You wanted to run your fingers through it, sweat be damned.

“Daddy!” “Daddy, look at what we made!”

The girls ran towards Rhett, pausing when they got close enough to smell him.

“You stink,” Grace commented flatly.

“Thanks. Love you too. Listen, I’m gonna go shower and I’ll be down in a bit. You all can start without me,” Rhett said as he kicked his boots off by the door and took the stairs two at a time. “Oh, and Tilly?” He called from the upstairs landing.

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something later. Don’t let me forget.”

You just nodded, stomach turning at the thought of what it could be.

Grace and Ellie helped you set the table, always eager to follow your every move. It makes you smile. Sometimes you felt like an actual family. And then you had to bring yourself back to reality. Just the nanny. Nothing more. Dinner was quiet, everyone was hungry and occupied with getting their bellies full.

You were resting on the couch as Rhett finished bath and bed time with the girls, trying to read your latest book but your mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Your heart started to beat faster as you heard Rhett descend down the stairs.

Rhett took himself to the kitchen, busying himself by pouring a glass of whiskey. A bottle you bought for him for Christmas the year prior. You peeked at him over the top of your book, watching his back muscles flex in the tight black tee he wore. Your mouth watered at the sight of his strong arms and his soft stomach as he turned to face you.

You quickly raised the book above your eyes, fearing that you had been caught staring. You missed Rhett’s knowing smirk.

“Move over,” Rhett poked at the bottom of your foot, the motion tickling you ever so slightly and causing you to jerk your leg towards you. “What are you reading? New dirty novel?” He teased.

“No…” you said quietly, a little shamefully.

“Liar. Is this one better than the last at least?”

“So far. Hey, what did you want to ask me earlier?” You stretched your legs back out and they landed in Rhett’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind. His unoccupied hand landed on your shin, calloused thumb lightly brushing the bone there. Your mind went blank and you could hear nothing but static in your ears.

“I got invited to this rancher’s event. They want me to give a speech. Stupid, but I agreed. And I… I need a plus one. And I figured maybe if you wanted to-“

“Yes!” You said eagerly, spine straightening. “I mean- sorry- go ahead…” Your cheeks felt hot at your abruptness. He was probably going to ask you to set him up with someone. Probably Lisa, Ellie’s dance teacher. She always had her eye on him.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me. Give you a break. It’s the weekend my parents wanted to take the girls camping. That is.. if you didn’t have any plans…”

Rhett sounded nervous. He was looking down at where his hand rested on your leg, avoiding all eye contact.

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t have anything going on. I’ll go with you. As-“

“Friends, of course.”

“Right. Friends. What’s the dress code?” You asked, heart sinking slightly.

“Black tie,” Rhett grumbled. He hated dressing up. If he can’t wear flannel, he doesn’t want to be there.

“Perfect. I’ll find a dress to wear.”

“Well. I’ll leave you to the reading. Goodnight, Tilly.” Rhett tapped your leg a couple of times before moving you so he could stand.

You sighed deeply as he left the room, trying to ignore the gut wrenching feeling you had at his response. You couldn’t focus on your book and you eventually went upstairs to attempt to sleep.

“I want you so bad,” Rhett growled against your neck, teeth sinking into your skin causing you to whimper and arch against him. His leg was in between yours, keeping your thighs separated and your barely covered cunt brush against his suit pants. “You’re fucking soaked, sweet girl. You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”

“Rhett, please!” You whined pathetically, grinding down on his thigh, searching for any sort of relief.

“Beg for it, baby. Beg for daddy. Tell me what you want.” Rhett said, voice low and gravelly. He pressed you into the wall harder, flexing his thigh as you keened. “I know you want me to fu-“

“Tillyyyyyy, wake uppppp,” a tiny voice called from the other side of the door. Your eyes shot open so fast it made your head spin. Your entire body was hot even though you just had the sheet covering you and the ceiling fan was on. You were having a dream about Rhett. A fucking wet dream. And now Ellie was yelling at you in the hallway. You felt like you were being punished.

You checked your phone. 5:37am. Jesus, why was she awake?

“I’m up, El. Hold your horses.” You went to the en-suite bathroom to splash cold water on your face. “Get yourself together. Now,” you said through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at yourself in the mirror.

The four-year-old stood outside your door with her stuffed horse tucked under her arms. Her eyes were a little red and she was sniffling.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I feel sick,” she whispered weakly, clutching the horse to her chest tighter.

“Come on, bug. I’ll get you some medicine.”

You picked her up and perched her on your hip as you carried her down the stairs. Her forehead felt a little warm. She sat patiently on the counter while you poured the medicine in the little cup and you rubbed her back as she swallowed it.

“Good job, El! I’m proud of you. Here, drink some water and let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded as she took a big gulp of water from her sippy cup. You trotted back up the stairs, bouncing her slightly to make her giggle.

“Alright, you got your water here and Honey is right here with you. Try to get some sleep, bug. I’ll fix pancakes when you wake up.” You tucked Ellie in, kissing her forehead before you stood up.

Her eyes were already heavy and she mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Luh you, mama.” She repeated sleepily, snuggling her horse and then started snoring softly immediately.

“Oh… I- I love you too, bug.”

You didn’t know how to react. She had never called you that before and it made your eyes misty with tears. You couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after the dream and not after Ellie calling you mama.

The next few hours went by in a blur. You had planned to go shopping with your friend Tabitha to find your dress for the dinner. After dropping the girls off at school, you met Tabitha at the mall. You were in a daze, barely listening to her rant about her latest failed Tinder date.

“Hellooooo,” she snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, sorry. No, I’m just- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sighed as you placed your face in your hands.

“What do you mean?”

“With Rhett! It’s like- why am I going to this dinner? Why do I keep torturing myself? And Ellie! She called me her mom this morning! I want a family and I feel like I have it but it’s not really mine, you know?”

“You need to get laid. That’s what you need,” Tabitha said nonchalantly. She looked through the dresses on the rack in the store you were in. “Oh. My. God. This. This dress. Go try it on. NOW!”

She shoved a velvet dress into your arms and pushed you towards the fitting rooms. It was a deep green color, the fabric felt soft against your skin. It wasn’t a dress you would pick out for yourself but once you slid it over your head your jaw dropped at the sight in the mirror.

The bodice was a corset type, something you didn’t typically reach for but was pleasantly surprised at how it looked on you. The dress was form fitting but not uncomfortably so. The strap tied around your neck, lifting your chest and displaying the tops of your breasts tastefully.

The dress hugged your every curve, accentuating parts of your body you weren’t necessarily happy with, but now you felt sexy. Powerful. You opened the door and called for Tabitha. She came running with a few other options in her hands but her reaction matched your own as she laid eyes on you.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, no, forget these. You have to get that one. If he doesn’t fuck you, I will.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and looked into the mirror once more. You felt so beautiful in the dress. It made you a little giddy at the thought of Rhett’s reaction. If he even had one. You tried to shake the negative thought away. If he didn’t appreciate it, someone else would. Maybe a nice cowboy who’d be down for a one night stand at a fancy hotel.

The week passed by in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, Rhett was packing the girls’ bags for their camping trip and was shouting up at you that he was going to pick up his suit in town from the tailor’s.

You took your time styling your hair the way you liked and you did your makeup, keeping it light but putting on a red lip. Just to be a little bold.

You hid in your room until you heard Rhett finish getting ready and head down the stairs.

“Tilly, you ready? We should leave so-“ Rhett stopped as he turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the wood. “Wow…” he breathed. “You look, ehem, you look nice. That’s a pretty dress.” He fiddled with his cuff links, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you,” you responded shyly. He held his arm out to escort you to the black pickup truck. The ride was silent except for the radio and the hum of the engine. You couldn’t stop from looking to Rhett. His hair was slicked back, the gray hair looked more prominent. His temples were nearly white. He had a shadow of stubble on his jaw and his suit fit him in all the right places.

You pulled up to a beautiful hotel. It was a grand building, accents of gold sparkled in the setting sun and gorgeous flowers lined the walkways. Rows of trucks indicated that you were at the right place. And the men in bolo ties and cowboy hats gave it away.

Rhett forwent his Stetson and chose a sleek black tie, looking a little out of place but you thought he looked beautiful.

He parked and inhaled deeply, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and closing his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You questioned, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.

“Huh? Yeah. M’good. Just nervous. I can’t stand half the people in that room,” he mumbled, smiling softly at you. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’ll do great. I can fake an emergency if needed.”

“Fall down the stairs if I give you a look,” Rhett joked.

“You got it, boss,” you winked at him. You reached for the door handle, preparing to get out of the truck but his hand on your arm now stopped you.

“Wait… I have something for you. A token of appreciation for coming with me. Also, an early birthday present.”

Rhett pulled a long, rectangular box from the side of the door. He opened it to show a diamond bracelet.

“Rhett- that’s- I can’t-“ You couldn’t stop from reaching out and running your fingers along the jewels.

“You deserve it. You work so hard and I don’t say it enough but you mean a lot to me. To the girls. Just wanted to give you something nice,” he said, voice a little shaky.

Something shifted as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. His touch lingered on your skin and it was hard for you to breathe. You tried so hard to keep things professional, but it’s changed. Everything has changed in the cab of Rhett’s truck.

You headed inside, arm linked with Rhett’s as he greeted the people inside. He was so charismatic, putting on a face you’d never seen before. It was sexy. He was controlling the room. Everyone loved him.

You could feel eyes following you as you walked towards the front of the ballroom. You heard a few whispers from the older women, surely gossiping about the obvious age gap between you and your employer.

“I’m gonna grab some drinks. You gonna be okay here?” Rhett whispered in your ear, his warm breath washing over your skin and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ll be good. Can you get me a Long Island?”

“Of course. Be right back.” He hurried off towards the bar, getting stopped several times along the way. You felt like a fish out of water here. You chewed on your thumb nail, anxiously waiting for Rhett to come back.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” a voice said from behind you. You turned to see the chair to your right being pulled away and a young man, around your age, sat down beside you. His black cowboy hat hid his eyes but he had a wide smirk on his face.

“I bet you’ve said that at least ten times tonight,” you responded, trying to ignore him.

“Name’s Wes. And you are-“

“Not interested. Beat it, buddy,” Rhett growled as he sat your drinks down and sat on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair possessively.

“I see how it is. Rhett… good to see you.”

Rhett hummed as he glared at Wes over the rim of his glass, silently willing him to scram. It was hot.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“He’s trouble,” Rhett mumbled.

The evening went on without a hitch. Dinner was decent and you joined in on a few conversations. Rhett’s speech was wonderful and informative about the cattle business. He looked good on stage but you knew he was nervous. He made his way back to you, smiling slightly.

“Come dance with me, honey,” he spoke lowly.

“Let me go freshen up a bit,” you squeaked, rushing to the bathroom. Your nerves were getting the best of you. It was just a dance. A quick dance and you’d be heading home. Nothing more.

You made your way back to the ballroom, catching Rhett’s eyes and you trembled slightly at the heat that formed there. A slow song started just as you made your way to the dance floor.

His large hand engulfed yours as his other splayed on the low of your back. You could smell his cologne as he pulled you close to him. You felt a piece of paper in your right palm as Rhett swayed the two of you around.

“What’s that?”

“You can read it when we’re done dancin’,” Rhett drawled, looking down at you. Even with you in heels, his frame still towered over you.

The song ended too quickly for your liking and Rhett was called over to a table filled with older gentlemen, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor. The crumpled napkin had been left in your hand and you spread it out to read the note.

Meet me at the staircase by the piano - R

You gasped slightly and looked around, meeting Rhett’s eyes as he chatted with the group he was with. He was expressionless but there was a fire in his eyes again. One that made your body react and you tried not to squeeze your thighs together in front of everyone there. You made your way back to your table to drink the rest of your drink, a little liquid courage, before you made your way to the staircase.

You stood there for what felt like ages but in reality was only a few minutes. You bounced on your feet, nerves building every second that passed.

“Hey, you,” Rhett’s voice called from behind you, approaching you with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded, feeling awkward.

Rhett pulled a key from his pocket. A hotel room key. Room 475 engraved in the key tag.

“You can say no. You can tell me to fuck off. You can quit-“

“Yes,” the answer came without a beat.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his thin lips.

“You have no idea how bad I want you, Rhett,” you confessed, breathless.

Rhett let out a desperate noise as he reached for you and crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head. You moaned wantonly as his tongue expertly licked into your mouth. You should go upstairs, should stop before anyone sees you.

“Rhett, we should- we need to-“

“Yeah… Yeah.”

His hand linked with yours as he pulled you to the elevator, not wasting time pushing you inside and against the wall, the railing digging into your lower spine a bit uncomfortably. His lips reconnected with yours, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, lips barely leaving yours. Hands explored your body, gripping at your soft hips and thighs, circling around to grab handfuls of your ass. The touch caused you to arch your body towards his, back bowing as he traveled higher and started palming your breast.

“I’ve thought about this - thought about you - for longer than I’d like to admit,” Rhett spoke, deep voice rattling in his chest. “Makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

You just whined pathetically, gripping at his lapels to anchor yourself. You were about to grind against the thigh that had pushed its way between your thighs but the high pitched ding of the elevator caused you to jump apart. Moving so fast, you would have thought you had been electrocuted.

A little old lady walked into the elevator, not missing the way you and Rhett looked disheveled. It was blatantly obvious what you were just doing. Rhett cracked a smile at her, nodding his head in her direction. Your chest was still heaving and your knees felt shaky.

She only went up two floors, a quick ride that felt like an eternity. Rhett’s pinky brushed against your hand where it rested on the rail, the small touch sending shocks through you.

“Have a nice evenin, ma’am,” Rhett said sickeningly sweet and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh at the look she threw his way as she exited the lift.

Your stop was next and nerves bubbled in your stomach at what was about to happen.

Silence surrounded you and Rhett now as you walked to the room. Not a word was spoken as he unlocked the door and made his way inside. You stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you looked toward the wooden floor.

Rhett tossed his jacket haphazardly onto the floor, approaching you slowly. Giving you the chance to run. It reminded you of a lion stalking a gazelle before it pounced. His calloused hands rubbed the length of your arms before his touch brushed the side of your neck, eventually cupping your face. A rough thumb caressed your cheekbone.

“Darlin’, look at me. Please,” Rhett spoke quietly, as if not to scare you. You continued to look down, which caused him to pinch your chin and lift your gaze to him. “Are you sure about this? We can- we don’t have to-“

“No. No, I want to. I have for a while. A long, long while.”

“Good,” he said, coming out an octave lower and his eyes landed on your red covered lips. His thumb ran across the pout of your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “I want to devour you.”

A shaky breath escaped you before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking softly on the digit.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

You stood there for a moment, his thumb in your mouth and your eyes locked on each other. It made tensions rise tenfold. You pulled away with a ‘pop’, a trail of saliva following in its wake.

Impatience got the best of you as you started clawing at his tie and shirt buttons, nearly sending them flying through the room. Rhett chuckled at your huffy breaths of frustration as you yanked on his clothing. You threw the tie behind you, his shirt was shoved off his shoulder and into the chair next to the door. His belt made a loud clink as it hit the window.

“Easy, girl. Don’t destroy the room. Or my clothes,” Rhett teased, stopping your hasty movements. You finally took the chance to pause and look at the man standing before you. Hairy chest on full display. The dark hair traveled down in a continuous line all the way down to the waist of his pants. His soft stomach and love handles made your mouth water.

“You’re so- fuck, Rhett. You’re so sexy,” you said.

“My turn.” He untied the neck of your dress slowly, taking his time pulling the bow loose. He turned you so your back was to him, unzipping you unhurriedly. You let the dress fall to your feet as you turned to face him again, leaving you in your lingerie and high heels.

“My god. Look at you.” Rhett took in the sight of you. Black lace left little to the imagination.

Things moved in a blur after that. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to remove the heels and he almost ripped your bra as he unclasped it with one hand. He tossed it aside and you tried not to giggle as it landed on the lampshade of the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

The edge of the bed knocked against the back of your knees as he pushed you softly so you landed on your back, bouncing on the mattress slightly. He stood between your spread thighs, undoing the button of his slack and pushing them down, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath.

You let out a quiet whine as your eyes traveled down his torso and stopping at the large bulge that was confined by the cotton. Even in the low lighting, you could see a small wet spot from the precum.

Large hands massaged your inner thighs as he spread them apart even farther, causing a slight burn in your muscles. He groaned at the sight of your barely clothed cunt. Rhett fell to his knees swiftly and delved into you without warning. Expert licks moved against your wetness through the thin lace, which had been quickly ripped away. His nose bumped against your bundle of nerves as his tongue explored your folds.

His long fingers soon joined his ministrations, finding that spongy spot inside of you in a matter of seconds. You’d question how he did that later. As of now, you tried to control your shaking limbs as he pushed you higher and higher towards your peak. Scratchy stubble rubbed against you, causing a delicious burn.

He stuck true to his word and devoured you, not leaving one part of you undiscovered.

Rhett’s lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking softly, tongue flicking against the bud. You trembled beneath him and your back bowed off the mattress, bucking against his mouth. A strong arm slung itself over your middle, keeping you pinned to the bed.

Your hands gripped his locks tightly, tugging hard when his tongue sped up.

“Rhett. Oh, Rhett. Fuck. Daddy!” It didn’t take much for your moans to become near screams and for galaxies to explode behind your eyelids as you came against Rhett’s face. Your body was jerking involuntarily as you traveled down from your high. Rhett placed feather light kisses against you before pulling away, hair sticking up in places and his face covered in your release.

He traveled up your body and kissed you soundly, the tangy taste of your desire mixing with something so Rhett made you both moan into each other’s mouths.

“Lay back, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you,” Rhett said quietly. You made yourself comfortable against the soft pillows as Rhett stretched you in preparation for his cock. “Damn pillow princess,” he joked. It made you smile.

He had three thick fingers inside of you before you stopped him.

“Stop! Please! I- I wanna come with you inside me,” you pleaded, gripping his wrist. He nodded and pulled his fingers out fleetingly.

You blindly shoved at his boxers and he clumsily kicked them off the end of the bed, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. Fuck, he was big.

Rhett pulled back and sat on his knees, gripping the base of his dick and placing it on your stomach.

“Look, baby. You think you can take me? Think you can handle daddy’s cock?”

“Please! Please, fuck me. Need it. Need you. Please!” You begged, lifting your hips and causing the leaking head to brush against your already sensitive clit. You simultaneously let out a loud moan. He rubbed himself through your folds, teasing you and him both.

“Wait, hold on.” Rhett pulled away and searched for his trousers, pulling his wallet out and rummaging through it. He pulled out a foil wrapper and ripped it with his teeth. You had never seen anything sexier.

“Can I do it?” You asked shyly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He handed the condom to you and kept eye contact as you rolled the latex down his length carefully. He was heavy in your hand.

You laid back once more, a trembling breath escaping your mouth as he lined up with your entrance. Even with his prepping, it was still a stretch. The slight burn caused you to hiss and dig your nails into his biceps. He took a break between each inch, time passing slowly as he made small thrusts. He eventually bottomed out, a broken moan coming from his chest as you squeezed around his length.

You stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily as his forearms caged you in.

“Daddy. Move. Please,” you whined, fingers moving tangle in the curls at the base of his neck. He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you, the girth and length of him touching places you’d never been able to reach before. It started slow, he was allowing you to get accustomed to him.

However, it didn’t take long before his thrusts became a little rougher. His hands now were placed a the top of your head as he put his body weight into his movements, grunts escaping him with each pass, your high pitched breaths matching him.

“So tight. Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for it. Made for me. All mine, all mine,” Rhett rambled. The headboard started to smack against the wall slightly as he pounded into you. You couldn’t breathe. You were approaching a feeling you had never felt before. Your brain was becoming fuzzy and your ears were beginning to ring.

“Da-daddy. M’gonna- I’m almost there,” you squealed as a particularly harsh thrust hit your g-spot.

“C’mon, sweet baby. Come for daddy,” his deft fingers started rubbing your swollen clit in tight circles and you let out a scream as your release washed over you. Rhett continued fucking into you until he pushed deep inside you and threw his head back towards the ceiling, filling the condom with his own release.

He collapsed on top of you, full body weight covering you like a blanket. You felt like were floating. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed against Rhett’s back, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. You stayed silent for a while, both trying to catch your breaths as you came down. He eventually pulled out of you slowly, causing you to wince. He discarded the condom and went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth and a glass of water.

You were quiet as he took care of you, smiling softly as he pulled you to sit up and take a few sips of water. You had never been cared for like this after sex. It made your chest constrict. You moved under the covers and waited for Rhett to follow suit. He immediately pressed his warm body against your own, pulling you tight to his chest.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said with a slight giggle.

“I can’t believe it took us this long,” Rhett retorted, fingers dancing along your spine.

You both laughed a little before it fell silent once again.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“What does this make us?” You asked as you ran your fingers through the thick chest hair.

“Well… I think this means you’ll be sleeping in my bed when we get home. But don’t call HR on me.”

“You are HR, Rhett. Seriously, though. Are we like-“

“I want you to be my girl. I have spent the past several months falling in love with you. And I know it’s soon, but damn it, darlin’. You’ve stolen my heart,” Rhett confessed, his words causing your eyes to well with tears.

“Rhett… I- I love you, too.”

“The girls are going to be excited. They’ve been begging me to ask you to be my girlfriend since you moved in.”

“They’re trouble, I swear,” you laughed, snuggling closer to your man.

“They’re the reason I have all of this gray hair.”

“Yeah, but it’s hot. Very… very… very hot,” you responded, emphasizing the T. You giggled as he rolled over on top of you and started kissing against your neck playfully.

You kissed each other softly in the dark until you fell asleep holding each other tight. And when the sun rose in the morning, a new beginning would be awaiting you.

tagging those who may be interested:

@ryebecca @whisperofsong @floydsmuse @laracrofted @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @bobfloydsbabe @callsign-magnolia @attapullman

[eternalxvenus]

୨⎯ Like a good neighbor, Gojo is there ⎯୧

summary: You've just moved into a fixer-upper in a quaint neighborhood, excited to start building and designing your dream home. Everything's perfect…or would be, if it weren't for that gorgeous but obnoxious Satoru Gojo next door, who you fight with practically every day.

cw: smut 18+, satoru gojo x f!reader, smut, a little fluff, a smidgen of plot if you squint, gojo is annoying, no curses au, gojo is stupidly rich, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral f!receiving, p in v, light choking, squirting

word count: 1.5k

notes: this is my first time writing smut so pls bear with me… the tile is bc that logo has been stuck in my head all damn day </3, im also debating on making a part 2… and lastly HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

You woke up to the sound of birds and wind, the sun shining brightly through your uncovered windows. As you stretched your limbs out with a groan trying to fully wake up, you thought about all the things you had to do today.

The clock shown 9:15am. Getting out of bed, the house was warm thanks to the summer morning. After doing your morning routine and eating breakfast you decide that you’re next project for the house will be painting the outside porch railing. You already had the paint, opting for a soft brown color.

Outside the air was warm and almost humid. The half empty coffee cup rested on the small table you had out there. Your clothes were already stained and rugged from previous projects done on the house. You picked up a paintbrush and promptly started on the porch.

About an hour or so later you were still painting, a light sheen in your forehead as you hummed a song stuck in your head. This was the peace you were looking for.

“Heyyy Y/N, how’s your morning going?” You roll your eyes, recognizing the all to chipper voice. Your neighbor Satoru Gojo. He was the most non-peaceful thing about the entire neighborhood. You tried to ignore him, but of course he was already making his way over. “I said good morning, what’s wrong too tired to speak?” he inquired.

A loud huff leaves your mouth. “No Gojo. I just don’t want to speak. To you at least.”

“Ah don’t be like that. I know what’s got you in a sour mood. It’s that ugly paint color isn’t it? Looks like shit— literally.”

“Gojo please do not come over here starting nonsense. It’s a pretty neutral brown. Now go away and leave me be.” You pick up the paint can and move to the next part of the porch. Gojo watches you lazily as you move about. He’s uncharacteristically silent and you almost forget that he’s even there. Glancing up to give him a look that says ‘What?’

With a no good smile on his face he says “Have lunch with me Y/N. Take a break and i’ll make us something good.”

You thought about declining but you were really hungry. As if on command your stomach growled rather loudly. “What’s the catch? You berate all my artistic choices thus far?” you deadpan.

With a hand over his chest in mock offense Gojo replies saying, “I would never!” He starts walking over to his house beckoning you to follow. “C’mon i’ll make us some sandwich wraps.”

You follow Gojo into his house and i soon as you step inside you see the stark contrast the inside has compared to the outside. Everything looks modern and sleek.

Gojo clears his throat before speaking. “Have a seat wherever. I’ll get started on the wraps.” You give a brief nod, walking into his living room to get a closer look at the decor. Fifteen minutes later, Gojo walks in empty handed.

“I put the wraps in the fridge. I usually let them sit in there about 10-15 minutes before eating so they have a better crunch and don’t get as soggy.” He plopped down on the couch stretching out his arms and legs. His eyes kept moving down to your ass as you walked around. “Come sit and let’s talk.”

You sit down next to him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you both, before he scoots you closer by the hips.

“You know, I’ve never had such a pretty neighbor before…” Gojo’s voice is smooth and filled with seduction. Your heartbeat picks up as he places a hand on your thigh squeezing lightly.

“Gojo… what are you doing?” You ask in a breathy voice. His touch had an effect on you and you hated it. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

“Oh come on Y/N, why do you think i’m always coming to bother you? I needed an excuse to see your pretty face.” He lowered his head to place light kisses along your jaw and neck. You moved your head to the side to give him better access. It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Gojo moves from your neck and looks into your eyes. You see the dark lustful look in them before he pulls you in for a heated and bruising kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, both of you barely stopping to get any air. You can feel the heat and arousal rushing through your body as he pulls you into his lap. Lifting his hips up slightly you can feel that he’s already hard and definitely not small. You break the kiss to pull off your shirt and Gojo nearly rips off your bra before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth while working the other between his fingers. “Ah… Gojo-”

“Satoru” he says breathing heavily and looking into your eyes. “Please call me Satoru.”

“Satoru… don’t tease.” you nearly whine.

“Fuck… i need to taste you.” Without missing a beat Gojo lays you down on the couch, making quick work of getting your jeans and panties off. “You’re so wet, this all for me?” his lips formed that cocky smirk. “Shut up and do something.” you say squirming. He grabs your hips to still you then lowers his head to taste your arousal. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined… so fucking sweet.” He goes straight into it, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your hole with his tongue like he’s starved. Your hands immediately find purchase in his hair. You tug slightly making Gojo moan which only adds to the knot that’s already forming in your stomach.

You try to lift your hips but he has you in an iron grip. Heavy pants and moans slip past your lips as you feel that familiar sensation or your orgasm. “Ah! Sa-satoru! Fuck i’m gonna cum!” he continues working his tongue on your clit as he inserts two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. Gojo eagerly licks and sucks all that you’re offering as you slowly start to come down from your high. He kisses your thighs and slowly makes his way up to your face. “I could eat you out all day” he breathes out. “But right now I wanna be inside you.”

You watch as he takes off his pants, seeing the wet patch on his boxers from his precum. After removing the rest of his clothing he now rests in between your legs, stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your clit. You buck your hips trying to get more friction but Gojo won’t budge. “Tell me what you want.” he whispers aligning himself with your entrance. “Satoru just fuck me please!” You say impatiently. The only warning you have is Gojo saying “If you say so.” before sliding his cock in until he bottomed out.

He threw his head back with a groan. “Shiiiit baby you’re so fucking tight.” He gave you a moment to adjust then started fucking you at an almost inhuman pace. All you could do was moan not able to form anything coherent. You felt Gojo’s hand come to your neck and squeeze just enough to heighten the force of his thrust. “You take me so well… this slutty pussy just keeps sucking me in.” His free hand slipped down to rub harsh circles on your clit causing you to practically scream. “Satoru! Too much!”

“You can take it baby i’m almost there. I want you to cum for me.”

Gojo keeps up his unrelenting pace and overstimulates your clit. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as his thrusts start to stagger and get sloppy signaling he was close. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum… gonna cum all over those pretty tits.”

“Please Satoru! Feels so good… fucking cumming ah!” You feel a gush of warm liquid between your legs just as Gojo pulls out whimpering while spilling his cum all over your stomach. “F-fucking shit! Fuck baby…” you both lay there panting as Gojo gives you small feathery kisses. After a minute or two he gets up to grab a towel to clean you up with. He’s back in his boxers and had one of his shirts for you to wear. You blush taking it with a small “Thank you.”

Once you’ve sat up and slipped on the shirt you notice the wet spot staining the couch. “Shit… sorry about your couch Satoru. I’ll give you the money to replace it.”

Gojo laughs at your concern for his couch. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” He moves you both over to a the other side of the couch that isn’t ruined. “No really i’ll replace it, how much was it?” He mumbles something that you don’t understand. “What?”

“$3,600.”

You stare at him in shock. “Satoru what the hell!” He dismisses your shock with a wave of his hand and lays you both down. “I told you don’t worry about it. Right now just lay here with me.” Just as you both got comfortable and closed your eyes, your stomach growls loudly.

“I guess now would be a good time to get those sandwiches.” Gojo laughs.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[callsign-rogueone]

fractured - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader You break your arm, but Nolon isn't available to mend it. Bodhi takes care of you in the meantime. [request] words: 1.1k 🏷: no book spoilers. she/her reader in an established relationship with Bodhi. mentions of injury (broken arm) but no blood and no description of how it happened. just some fluff of Bo taking care of you.

Bodhi is out of his seat as soon as he sees you exit the exam room, looking a little worse for wear -- your arm is in a sling, the bridge of your nose split, and you’re walking slowly, like your legs are sore.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Xaden said you were here, but nobody would tell me anything. What happened?”

“I fractured my arm in two places,” you explain, “But Nolon is busy, so until he’s done with whatever else he has going on, I have to heal the old fashioned way.”

You leave out the details of how it happened, and hope that he won’t ask. He doesn’t -- he just takes your bag from your ‘good arm’, slinging it over his shoulder before you can protest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You give him a pained smile, letting him lead you back across the bridge to the rider’s quadrant, where everyone is sat down for dinner, in the middle of a spirited conversation. You slip into your normal seat, thankful that nobody seems to notice your condition or make a scene -- until they do.

“What’s with the sling?” Imogen asks, raising an eyebrow.

Every head at the table turns toward you. Great.

“Nolon was unavailable,” you answer in a tone that does not invite any more questions -- that seems to be good enough for them, but you still get a few worried glances and pitying looks from your friends in response.

You poke at your food, attempting to cut it with the side of your fork and failing -- it isn’t sharp enough. You set the utensil down, giving up; you aren’t that hungry, anyway, not after the painkiller the healers had given you, which isn’t doing anything except make you nauseous. You really hope that Nolon will be back tomorrow, because living like this is going to suck.

Bodhi notices your dilemma and slides your plate toward him, wordlessly taking your knife and fork and cutting everything into bite-sized pieces for you before he gives it back.

You thank him quietly, managing to eat half of it -- better than nothing, you suppose. Maybe you’ll feel better at breakfast.

He’s sitting on your right, your uninjured side, and he keeps you close to him all through dinner, tucked into his side.

When everyone is finished, he picks up your bag again, carrying it upstairs to your room, right across from his, following you inside and setting the bag on your desk chair. “Do you want help changing clothes? I promise I’m not just asking because I want to see you naked.”

You don’t laugh at the joke, kicking your boots off roughly, not caring where they land. 

“I’ll be fine,” you answer, turning your back on him. You’re sick of this, of feeling like a child, of being coddled and given those concerned looks all through dinner, like you can’t handle yourself -- like you haven’t had worse injuries, like you hadn’t run the gauntlet and bonded a dragon and literally everything else this terrible school asks of its students.

You try to tug your shirt off, hissing in pain at the movement of your arm. Hot tears start to flow down your cheeks as you continue to struggle, the fabric getting stuck on the thick wooden splint the healers had put around your forearm as a temporary fix.

“Hey,” Bodhi coaxes, “let me do it.”

You sigh, admitting defeat and taking a few steps toward him, allowing him to help get your good arm out of the other sleeve first, and gently untangle the shirt from the splint, tossing it into your laundry hamper with practiced ease.

He wipes away your tears with a gentle brush of his thumb, cradling your cheek in his hand. The familiar softness of his touch relaxes you near-instantly.

“I know this is frustrating for you, and I know you’re a badass independent woman dragon rider, who can take care of herself, and that’s one of the things I love most about you, but it would be easier -- and it would make me feel better -- if you let me help you. I love you, and I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Love you too.”

You stay like that for a moment, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes -- you’re exhausted.

“We’ll go by the healers before breakfast and see if Nolon is back,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But until then, I’m gonna be here to help you, okay?”

You make a soft sound of acknowledgement, working up the courage. “Stay the night?” you ask softly. 

“Gladly,” he answers. “I’ll even bring extra pillows.”

There’s a moment of soft, comfortable silence that you want to linger in forever -- you really don’t feel like trying to shower with this thing on, or to lay down in bed; even with Bodhi by your side, it’s going to be uncomfortable, especially with how much you usually toss and turn during the night.

“I never asked you how this happened,” he realizes.

You stiffen, silent.

He looks at you with a seriousness you hardly ever see, deep concern with anger simmering underneath. “I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

You shake your head. “Nobody hurt me.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you -- you could very well be lying, because you don’t want him to go off and beat someone up just because they bested you in a challenge, but there weren’t any challenge fights today; they’re over for the rest of the school year. Had someone gone out of their way to injure you, to make an attempt on your life? 

“My love, I’m serious. If someone tried to-”

“I tripped over my own shoelace and fell down the flight of stairs by Kaori’s classroom,” you interrupt quietly. “Half a dozen first-years saw the whole thing.”

He knows you well enough to know that you’re telling the truth, that what he’s seeing is genuine embarrassment -- the shyness in your voice and the warmth of your cheeks give it away.

He laughs in relief, and at how deeply unserious this whole situation is. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smile. “It’s pretty funny.”

It’s hilarious. You’d completed your first year largely unscathed, sustaining no major injuries, but an untied shoelace had nearly done you in.

“That’s it,” he declares, “I’m tying your shoes for you every morning from now on.”

You laugh, wincing when the motion jostles your arm and sends a jolt of pain through you.

“Oh, honey,” he soothes. “C’mere.”

You settle into his arms, leaning against him as he embraces you, careful not to touch your splint.

“I love you,” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“I love you too,” you reply. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, my love. Always.”

[setsugekka]

❥déjà rêvé (m)

↳ When your best friend marries her stuffy, stuck-up, long-time boyfriend, you swallow your feelings and put your reservations aside to support her...

...and when your erotic imagination takes hold of you one night in relation to him, you’re thankful for the fact that your friend is able to laugh it off.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to let it go as easily.

kim doyoung x fem!reader — enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [17.7k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, social smoking. sexual content: bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, unprotected penetrative sex (v+a), oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

Seven years.

 Watching as your best friend now sat in glee as hired hair and makeup help dart around her to make sure that every strand, every eyelash be perfectly in place for her big day, you realize that now, after so long, it's difficult to even really recall the first few times that she started bringing him around. You remember the first night she mentioned him — a careful slide of a photo of him into the group chat, followed by the usual 'he looks better in person' commentary — although hilariously unnecessary given that the man stunning even back then.

You did, however, wish that his looks had translated more into his personality.

Unfortunately, it was no mystery the way that you and Doyoung did not get on. Never culminating into blow-out fights, or a need to pick sides, or even the ruining of an evening or vacation: But it was there. Petty jabs and comments slung about, backhanded slips of the tongue coming from either side at a moments notice — something that, earlier on, came to be of much contention between you, Mina, and her now husband-to-be. Over time, however, with the relationship growing, evolving, and coming to terms with the fact that this man most likely to remain in your life for as long as Mina would be, you decide on doing the only thing that a good, supportive, friend can do in such circumstances.

After all, you weren't the one marrying him, and thank fuck for that.

  "How do I look?"

Nearly tear-filled eyes looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror as you stand behind your best friend of a decade and more, you offer a tight-lipped smile back to her — in an effort to keep it together, really, you'd rather not cry your makeup off, as well.

"You look amazing, he's lucky," you begin genuinely before switching to a more playful tone. "And he better remember that, because I'll be watching."

With a sway of her hand, Mina shoos you away equally playfully and laughing through the fact that she was surely just about to start crying. "This long and you guys are still like this, are you ever going to get over it?"

"Is he ever going to stop being a pretentious douche? Because all signs point to 'no.'"

Cocking her head as if to say 'give me a break,' your bestie sighs audibly at the much anticipated response from you in regards to the matter.

"He's a good man."

You nod. "I know. He's good to you and, well — good enough to me, so I'll allow it, I suppose."

Would you choose to spend time with Doyoung if not for Mina; if not for the fact that he be obviously and irrevocably in love with her and treat her as such every moment of everyday? No.

But the rest of it sort of makes up for that fact.

One of the perks of having Kim Doyoung around is the money.

Of course, Mina doing well enough for herself that she need not rest on the laurels of a man, but marrying this one be far from a bad choice as far as financials go. A hard worker all through high school and college and landing a fancy, high-paying career gig straight out — only a few weeks after the wedding, the two bought a house together — an expensive, modern home a little bit on the outskirts of the city but not too far away as to make it inconvenient, glass paneling, black marble, and perfectly shined platinum stainless steel; the first time entering it, you can't help but think how it's precisely what one would expect upon being informed of the kind of money and stature that Doyoung has.

'New money,' they call it, and with it comes a certain expectation of being a prick, apparently.

The positives of all of this, of course, include that the man work long hours, and thus, you're free to be over without having to see much of him.

And thank God for that.

 "Drink?"

Already reaching up and into one of the white and glass cupboards just above as she calls out the question, you answer back a simple "sure" as she continues bringing down two, large, red wine glasses that you're almost certain cost far more than any reasonable person would pay for cups.

"Doie brought these back from Portugal the last time he went on business, apparently they're one of a kind, handmade."

"I swear to God every time you call him that I get the most intense case of sudden indigestion. No relation, though. I'm sure."

The same playfully annoyed cock of her head that you're used to seeing every time the man comes up into conversation, the both of you chuckle as she sets two glasses down onto perfectly shined marble countertops in front of you.

"There's like, thirty bottles of wine down here and I don't know what's fancy or not," Mina begins, already squatting down in front of the wine storage just beneath (and of course, something that Doyoung personally had built into the kitchen during renovations). Popping back up and grabbing her phone from across the shining table, "Let me ask him."

Only a few seconds of the phone ringing, the line is answered and you hear that all too familiar and also irritating voice come through. "On a work call, what's up, babe?"

You roll your eyes, it's nearly automatic. Mina slaps the marble in front of you like she's trying to dissuade a cat from something.

"We want to open a bottle of wine but I don't know what we can and can't have, so give me a name of something, quick."

"You can have anything you want," The man on the other end coos back. You sort of wish this conversation wasn't happening on speaker phone.

Rolling her eyes, Mina chuckles back at him. "You said some of these bottles are like, three hundred dollars."

"And? Let me know how it is, gotta-go-love-you-bye—" Doyoung sing-song's into the phone before cutting the line completely. You watch the way a grin takes your best friends face at the short but sweet conversation that has only just transpired and it reminds you that all things considered, and all personal feelings about the man aside, they're absolutely, remarkably in love with one another.

As if momentarily forgetting the fact that you're even there, in favor of daydreaming about her husband, Mina finally comes back down to the expensive kitchen with you. "He's so annoying."

"Yeah, I can tell that's totally how you feel about him right now," You respond with obvious sarcasm.

About an hour and a half later and two glasses of whatever accidentally expensive wine your friend has chosen, you're a little disappointed when you hear the familiar voice of The Husband coming down the stairs and slowly making his way into the kitchen.

Of course, and again: You don't hate him, but he always has some shit to say.

Finishing up a work call as he comes around the corner — gray sweatpants and a black, oversized sweatshirt with hair only a tiny bit disheveled and probably due to it being the end of the night for him finally, you watch intently as he leans against the large, stainless steel refrigerator — briefly making eye contact with you as he says goodbye to whatever late night client happens to be on the other end of the line.

With a heavy sigh, Doyoung outstretches his arms. "Finally, freedom."

"Until tomorrow—" Mina adds with a quick peck to his cheek as she hands him a glass of wine as well. The reminder unfortunate, wiping any joy from the mans features in an instant. "—Yes, until tomorrow."

Then, his eyes catch towards you. Bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, the words slip out just before he takes a sip. "And what about you? Do you work?"

Always something to say.

"I do!" You quickly quip back. "I work normal people hours, like most people do."

"I don't think hanging out with my wife is a job."

"Doie!" Mina huffs with a playful slap to his chest.

"I assure you, you don't have to be concerned about my working hours," you begin, taking another sip from your glass before setting it down onto the counter next to you. "At least I won't look seventy years old when I'm thirty, like some people."

"Ooh—" he plays along, eyes narrow as if you've almost got him on the losing side of the banter. "That may be true, but I'll still be rich, and I'll still have a sexy wife."

"Please spare me, I choose not to acknowledge that there is any sexual relationship between the two of you at any given moment in time."

Finishing off his glass and taking a step forward to set it down next to yours, he offers you a thin-lipped grin, as if accompanying it with his sympathies. "And I'm sure that's not a result of projection, at all. Anyway, have a good night, you two, I'm off to bed."

With a quick kiss to Mina and another tip of his head towards you, the man is off and back up the stairs.

Well enough out of earshot, your eyes shoot back to your friend. "Did he just imply I'm not getting fucked?"

She shrugs. "Are you?"

Scoff falling from your lips, you press the point of your index finger out and towards your bestie. "I was just out with that guy last week, remember?"

"And how did that go?"

"It was terrible, but that's not the point—" you answer dryly, as if it be the simplest thing in the world. "—The point is, I get dick, regardless of how questionable the quality may be."

Chuckling, Mina comes around to pick up the glasses and set them next to the sink. "I'll be sure to let him know, then."

"Please don't," You groan in response.

Long, thin, fingers wrapped around your wrist as you're quickly shuffled down the familiar, dimly lit hallway of their shared marital home before your back suddenly finds pressure against the cool wall — legs pulled apart to make room for his hips as you feel the all too familiar burn of being pried apart with not enough prep for such endeavors — enveloped suddenly by broad shoulders and a hard chest held firm against your own as you bite back the moan that threatens to echo down and against the walls, your fingers finding purchase in the fabric of such shoulders as they dig in to match the feeling of being taken so thoughtlessly, relentlessly.

"How do I feel?"

A rhetorical question of sorts, knowing that he can hear and feel the way you fall apart beneath him already and with such little effort on his end — one hand coming up between the wall and the back of your head to curl fingers into you hair and tug roughly on the strands as you hiss into a mouth just centimeters away but not quite touching your own. "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 Waking up in the morning, you don't recall many of the details — instead, living now with the irritating knowledge that you've had a sex dream about one man in particular that you wouldn't wish sex with onto your worst enemy.

Of course, it will pass — as things like this always do. It's just a dream, after all.

Right?

Wrong, regrettably.

Worse than having the dream itself, you think over the next few days, is the way that it simply won't leave you alone. Any moment of downtime in your thoughts now plagued by the memory of a certain best friends husband fucking you against the wall of their newlywed home — it's far from ideal, and for a plethora of reasons that don't necessarily need to be explained. And yet.

But, you know enough about Mina, and your friendship with her, that if you can confide in anyone about having a sex dream about their husband to get it off of your chest, it's her.

Sitting outside of a bougie cafe just down the street from Mina's work building as you wait for her to join you with legs crossed and a mimosa on the table in front of you, as you stare at the menu in an attempt to focus on what it is that you'll be ordering for lunch once your friend arrives, the words still find their way floating through your mind with no prompting, and a little bit too much ease.

 "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 "So long!" The familiar voice of your friend from just behind you pipes up and jars you from your thinking — and thank fuck for that, because any excuse not to be brought to that place is a good one, as far as you're concerned. "Took me so long to find parking here, I don't know why we always insist on coming to this place."

"Because it's central to both of us," you answer with a tone that says that this should be obvious. "Besides, you're always the one that wants to come here."

"What can I say, hot sandwiches here are amazing—" pausing the thought to flag down the wait staff, you place the menu down on the table and rub your eyes with the flat of your fingertips as her attention falls back to you. "—Do you know what you want to order? Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"Yes," you reply to the first question, only to hesitate on the second. "Nothing, tired. Work's been killing me."

"Aw, and Doie said that you don't work," She offers, a comforting tone that only offers the opposite with the addition of the pet name to her lover. Her husband.

"Can we not talk about that man?"

A questioning cock of her head and curiosity piqued, Mina smiles with narrowed eyes. "...Why? Did he say something else? You know, he's only joking—"

"No," you firmly cut her off with a wave of a hand as the waiter returns with a drink for her and an exasperated sigh from you. "He didn't say anything else. He's just...exhausting."

"You don't even know the half of it. I live with him," Mina cheerfully retorts as she takes her drink into hand.

 No, you don't even know the half of it.

 Allowing your friend to do a good bit of the rambling through lunch as you slowly make your way through your salad — you try to put it out of your mind just as much now as you have since that night — unfortunately, the very presence of the woman married to said man in question causing the thoughts to be just that much more at the forefront of your memory.

With a fork between teeth, Mina finally stills mid-sentence and glares at you through perfectly made up, long, eyelashes. "Alright, what the hell is up with you today?"

 Yes, you were busted, but if you were honest, you had every intention of telling her about it, anyway.

 With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you finish chewing through your lettuce before setting your own utensils down at the edge of the plate and dramatically falling back into your chair — a reluctant acceptance of defeat at the hands of your best friend. All perfectly pressed business suit and perfectly structured black hair that her ever so doting husband no doubt pays for to have her take care of.

This is so annoying.

"Well!?"

"Okay, okay, don't rush me, geez—" you cut her off with palms in the air. Allowing silence to once again fall between you — nothing more than the busy bustling of the street nearby and the other patrons of the restaurant around you — you sniffle sharply, now having accepted that this is a conversation that's definitely going to happen.

Her being upset, or angry, not something you're concerned about — rather, just the humiliation of having to admit it (and the way that it's lived in your mind ever since.)

"Have you ever — had a dream about someone else's partner?"

Visibly taken aback, and physically so as Mina jolts into her chair at the question, a chuckle falls from her lips as she just as quickly takes a sip from her tall glass again. "Are you kidding? I've banged Karina's man like, three times unconsciously."

The fast and honest reply has you nearly choking on the sip of drink you had mirrored her in taking.

"It's just a dream, it's not like we have any control over it. Why? Whose man dug you out?"

 Silence.

 Mina's eyes glued to your face as you bring your glass up to your lips again and pull your own line of vision as far from hers as you can manage without actually turning physically — you hate the way you can literally see as the knowledge finally dawns on her with how her teeth quickly begin to peer through the grin that plasters across her face.

"Stop—" she first says.

"Don't—" you respond just as quickly.

"—No way." She finishes with a gasp.

You immediately plant your face into the flat of your palms with an affirming groan.

And thus, your best friend does what anyone would do upon finding out that her friend had a sex dream about her husband: Let out the most annoying, boisterous witch-cackle that a single woman could possibly muster.

When her laughter finally dies down enough to manage in some breaths for an attempt at speaking, Mina takes another sip of her drink through tight lips that are quite evidently still trying to pull back the smile that she wants so badly to let pull across her features. "Well," she quietly begins. "How was it?"

"Really?"

"Just curious how fantasy matches up with reality, that's all."

Rolling your eyes at her curiosity, you can't help but make an attempt to pull the embarrassment from you, and onto the man in question. "I'm sure I was doing him the favor. It wasn't thirty seconds of missionary while he told me about finances so he should be thankful for that much."

Snorting through her nose, Mina's eyes drop down to her mostly-eaten sandwich before her. "Is that what you think it's like?"

"I simply do not think about it at all, actually."

"Evidently, that's not the case."

 With more silence coming between the two of you, now Mina is the one that cuts through it with an all too pointed, proverbial knife.

 "Do you want to fuck him?"

 Sputtering through more salad as the words enter your line of hearing, before you have a chance to answer, Mina amends the statement — as if she can read your mind. "Before you say 'no,' really think about it."

And so, you do. Quietly mulling over all of the possibilities, the thoughts that this bring to your mind — not limited to and especially the recollection of the dream — more than anything, it's a reminder that you don't actually even really like this man. You don't enjoy his company, and you don't particularly enjoy conversing with him. The purpose that Doyoung serve in your life be uniquely in relation to him being the perfect, most amazing husband to Mina.

And how this might be precisely how you ended up here to begin with.

But what this really brings to question is one very pointed, very particular thing:

"A-are you asking me if I want to have sex with your husband...with intention of granting me permission to do so?"

The woman across from you shrugs, calling the wait staff over again for another drink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, one thing at a time. So, do you?"

Feeling a bit like a taboo, kinky carrot being dangled in front of your face — you know Mina well enough to know that she wouldn't be asking this in an attempt to set you up — to get upset with you, to drive a wedge between your friendship.

If she's asking, it's because she's genuinely curious, and has other such genuine intentions, as well.

Clearing your throat and blinking away the awkwardness in the fact that you're really about to answer this honestly: You could lie — pretend that it hasn't been stuck on your mind ever since, pretend that you haven't been fantasizing about him, and in a particularly low moment, cumming to the thought of him — but really, what good will that do you, now?

In fact, even just the conversation now bringing back the dull ache between your legs. Humiliating the power the subconscious can have over us.

"I mean," you quietly start with a shaky, unsure tone. "Yeah. Yes, I guess."

"I know, he's sexy, right? You wouldn't expect it but there's something about him—"

Your best friend regrettably far too accepting of this conversation topic.

"Look, it's not a big deal, I'm not like — dying for it," you cut her off suddenly, mostly in an attempt to deter the conversation from any more detail about that something about the man. "It's just like...in theory, you know, something about that angry, 'I don't like you, you don't like me' type of arrangement makes for a good fantasy but of course, it's just that."

"Right," she snorts again and into the glass pressed to her mouth. "Just that."

 Ten minutes later and with the check for lunch paid by the credit card of a particular husband, with Mina hurrying to gather her things on account of being late back to work — she hugs you quickly with one arm slung around you before rushing off the other way — but not before turning just as suddenly and whispering a little too loudly for your comfort given the people around.

"Look, obviously I can't make him fuck you, but I'll run it by him. I'll let you know. Cheers, babe!"

Great.

"Babe, come to bed!"

Tone whiny and pleading as she kicks her feet from beneath the covers of their shared, King sized bed, Mina groans into the pillow expectantly in anticipation of her husband joining her for a cuddle and a conversation.

Although, mostly the conversation, this time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Doyoung chimes back from their white and gold accented bedroom, toothbrush shoved into his mouth as he peeks his head out through the doorway just before spitting into the sink. "Pushy, aren't you?"

"One of the many things you love about me."

As he saunters towards the side of the bed, all too aware of his surroundings and even more than that, the mischievous grin pulled across the lips of his beloved wife — eyes narrowing with suspicion, he slows his movements just ever so slightly before finally crawling into bed next to her and meeting beneath the sheets. "Why do I have a feeling you're not just looking to snuggle up with your wonderful husband, tonight?"

"Aw, Doie, don't be like that—" Mina whines, wrapping her arms around his and pulling her body against his as he flips through channels on the television against the wall in front of them. "—I had lunch with my bestie today."

Glancing out of his peripheral towards her, Doyoung hums inquisitively, as if unsure of what this has to do with him but anticipating that he's going to find out. "That's good. How is she?"

"She's good," every word coming out like she's singing a song — one made up of no-good and trouble — charming in her tone. "Although, she's had a lot on her mind, lately — so to say."

Pausing, the man shifts just slightly in place as he finally settles on a channel and sets the remote control down between the two of them. "And why do I have a bad feeling about what that means?"

Lips gently beginning to decorate the exposed skin of his shoulder and arm, Mina smiles into them just before the words finally leave her. "She had a dream about you."

"Okay?"

Slow on the pick-up.

This time, she delivers the information a bit more pointedly. "She had a dream about you."

"Oh," he says quietly at first, until the fact of the matter finally, truly, dawns on him. "Oh."

A squint and a frown now, Doyoung's head turns quickly towards his wife.

"And she told you this?"

Mina nods.

"You both are a little too close."

"Well?" She finally offers up the question at hand, lips still innocently peppering across her lovers skin. "What do you think?"

"Are you asking me if I want to fuck your best friend? How would this work, anyway? It's not as if we even get on all that well—"

"I think that's part of it for her."

"—Kinky minx."

Slowly pulling from Doyoung and groaning into a long stretch of her limbs as if settling in for slumber, she smiles again. "It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."

"Yeah, but never friends," he says, rubbing his palms over his face as if a little taken aback by the topic of conversation as a whole. "—I mean, I'm down, you know her better than I do — if you think she can handle it."

"We'll have the discussion later, I wanted to run it by you, first."

Reaching a hand over to his wife, Doyoung pulls her by the arm back over and against his torso with a kiss to the top of her head as she settles her face into the crook of his neck.

"My little liaison," the man chuckles into her hair lovingly. "You just wanna hear about all the dirty little details after the fact, don't you?"

Pulling back to meet eyes with him, a scrunch of her nose and a giggle gives Doyoung all of the answer he would ever really need.

"What can I say? Everyone wins."

Two glasses of wine poured and the both of you sat next to one another on the large and undoubtedly far too expensive plush couch of the living room — a certain comfort of being only in the company of your best friend — it brings you back to so many other instances like this through the years of your friendship, curled up on far less luxury items but sharing all of the intimate details of your loves and lives, as the closest of friends tend to do.

Tonight, however, would offer a bit of a different experience. You're prepared for it, suppose, as much as you possibly can be, given the circumstances at play.

 "He's not home, is he?" You question suddenly, Mina tucking her legs under the rest of her with glass in hand as she situates herself to be facing you. A smile and a chuckle, she shakes her head. "No, it's just us."

Exhaling a sigh of relief at the option of being walked in on by the very topic of conversation not being on the table, you allow yourself at least a tiny bit more of comfort with the affirmation.

"You're going to have to be honest with me," Mina begins, one corner of her lips tugging upwards. "I can only relay to him what you tell me, and he's not going to freestyle it, either, so—"

You take a much larger swig from your glass than previously had, nearly finishing off the contents of it.

"—Tell me what you want."

"Another glass of wine, for starters."

Snorting, your best friend leans towards the table to grab the bottle into hand, tilting it towards your glass and filling it all over again. "You don't have to be uncomfortable, like I said, it's not really the first time we've done this."

"Yeah, news to me," you sigh with a bit of shock cutting through it. "All these years and I never knew."

Shrugging, Mina sets the bottle down again before settling into place all over. "People tend to assume monogamy among couples, we just allowed them to do so. Not as much of a stick in the mud as you thought he is, huh?"

Choosing not to acknowledge that fact, you take another sip of your wine, waiting for the topic of conversation to shift to something that is — effectively the same topic, but more in pertinence to you, specifically.

"So, tell me."

A sharp inhale, you know that you don't have to go through with this: You can just as easily call the whole thing off and pretend that none of this has ever happened — and that the both of them would happily carry on with their lifestyle all the same — but the unshakable lust for the man now deeply imbedded within you, like an itch that's otherwise impossible to scratch — an offering to have it when under most other circumstances it would have to remain as a dull, silent ache only left to you and your own devices, as it were.

 A little too sweet of a deal to turn down, you find. Not God's strongest soldier, it seems.

 "I don't — I don't want him to all of a sudden pretend like we're best friends and that we get along perfectly," you begin cautiously and with eyes darting up towards your friend with every passing of every word. "I want it to feel natural, to feel real, so—"

"You want him to fuck you like he hates you?"

Laid out so simply, the idea of it makes your throat dry, but you nod all the same. "Yeah, yeah I guess so."

"Let me tell you something," your friend begins as she shifts into a more comfortable position with one leg out and over the side of the couch. "What's always been a little funny to me with your preconceived notions about how Doyoung is in bed — he's actually quite...intense."

"What does that mean?"

"He likes to be in control, there's a bit of a dominant streak in him."

Hearing the words, the math starts coming together in your head about the way the man carries himself, the way he works, and just the way he is in general — you're not quite sure how the idea never dawned on you, perhaps too wrapped up in all of the ways that you find him insufferable and a bore, it only natural to assume the same of his abilities.

Before you have a moment to focus on the ache between your thighs, your friend continues on.

"Does that...sound like something that would interest you?"

Swallowing down your pride along with your arousal, you nod until the rim of your wine glass.

"Well, that's easy enough, then," Mina scoffs with a casual roll of her eyes, as if she had almost been hoping for it to be a bit more of a challenge for him to fulfill the role asked of him. "In that case, what's off limits?"

 For some reason, you hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Your friend notices as much.

 "For what it's worth, there will be a safe word, so even if you agree to anything now or later or any time, really, you don't have to go through with anything if you're no longer having a good time."

Eyes widening at the concept of needing a safe word, you swallow hard. "That intense, huh?"

"It's up to you," she continues on. "It's not just for when things get wild or out of hand, hell, you can use it if you're just in the same room as him. Have you—" She pauses inquisitively, suddenly questioning whether or not this is a good idea at all. "—Done anything like this before?"

But hearing the reluctance in her tone, you nod quickly. "Yeah! Yes, not with...my best friends husband, though."

A cute grin across her face, Mina laughs with a coy flick of her wrist. "Don't get so caught up on that. He's my husband, yes, and for all intents and purposes very much still will be for the sake of the scene, but even more than that, he's here to fill a role — he knows that very well."

"Are you going to be involved?" You ask suddenly, the question only now popping into your mind. Your friend laughs.

"No, I mean, he'll tell me about it afterwards but I won't be like...planning scenes with him, or anything. Whatever he has in store for you — well, that's between the two of you, until after it happens, of course."

"Okay."

Taking a sip of her glass and glancing up at you through eyelashes, she brings the topic back around again. "So, no hard limits?"

"Piss play, shit play—" you quietly begin to list off before Mina stops you. "Okay, he's not into any of that either. I mean more along the lines of; name calling, degradation, humiliation, general rough-housing."

Even just thinking about partaking in half of those things with the man in passing sending a shiver down your spine, you shake your head. "I—I don't think so, maybe start slow, though."

"I'll let him know, again, don't be afraid to tell him to stop in the moment if he gets a little too carried away. He's a good dom."

'He's a good dom.'

What an absolutely perplexingly arousing set of words in succession.

Leaning back finally with your shoulders pressed to the couch, you exhale heavily with eyes high to the ceiling above as your friend mirrors your movement — but instead, with a bright smile pulling across her red, wine-stained lips.

"This is going to be so fun."

Part of the fun, you come to find, is the not knowing.

Even with rules, and safe words, and all of the parties involved very much having come to an understanding of the ins and outs of such an endeavor, the truth of the matter was this: You had no way of knowing when, or what, Doyoung has in store for you.

It's a little bit of risky play, too, at the core level. The fact that the two of you not be explicitly exchanging words among yourselves in order to maintain a certain sense of authenticity to the scene (far from unusual, in the kink world), but new to you, and most definitely requiring a level of trust among all people involved. Far from your favorite person, sure, but you trusted him — and that's far and away what a scenario like this require in order to make it run without a hitch.

And so the question runs constant at the forefront of your mind as you stand in front of your mirror, getting ready for the couples housewarming party: Are you going to fuck your best friends husband tonight?

Stemming from that very simple question, of course, comes a plethora of others: What should one wear? Is it too presumptuous to assume as much? What if it's just a normal evening party and you're completely out of your element in thinking he would fuck you tonight? Do you want to fuck him tonight?

Unfortunately, the answer to that one is an easy yes.

One of the rules being simple enough: The arrangement ends once you and Doyoung have penis in vagina sex — that considered to be the 'goal,' which then only begs the question of how much is the man intending to put you through before even getting to that point?

Or is he to get it done and over with as quickly as possible, instead?

Glancing into the reflection of the mirror and towards a simple, three-quarter sleeve black dress that hands down fitted to the knees, you think it sexy but not too sexy. Just sexy enough. The right amount of sexy.

Let's not appear too excited, after all.

  "Darling, you made it!"

Mina's voice ringing through the kitchen in a faux-french accent as she pours wine for a couple of friends — handing you a glass, she kisses your cheek before pulling away to look you up and down. "You look ravishing, my dear."

God, you hope so.

You find, however, that now that you're here, it's a bit more awkward than anticipated. Man of the hour no where to be found just yet, but unable to stop looking over your shoulder in an attempt to locate him — you sort of hope that your friend be all too preoccupied with the other guests to catch wind of just how hungry for this you may actually be.

Side pressed against the cupboard, you feel the nudge of someone attempting to open it, and turning in an instant to move yourself from out of the way, you're not at all prepared to meet the narrow, dark eyes of the man you're meant to — whatever, with — at some point in time.

You think that your stomach falls out of your ass right then and there.

"Look who showed up! You do take your job of being my wife's friend very seriously, after all."

"Doie! Don't start, it's not even ten o-clock yet!"

 It's almost bizarre to you the way that things carry on with such normalcy, given all of the ways in which the goings on between the three of you now be anything but. Reaching up and towards a bag of chips, with the mans eyes turned towards the subject, you allow yourself the greedy view of his fitted, navy blue button down tucked perfectly into black slacks, with a belt that you're sure costs more than your car payment, accenting it.

Sleeves pushed up and off of his forearms, you take in the way that the muscles and veins flex and move as he does.

Seeing Kim Doyoung in a whole new light — and more than that, you're allowed to do so.

How can a man this fucking insufferable look like this.

"I'll have you know, I can't be out late tonight," you bite back, a good effort in pretending that you hadn't just been eye-fucking him only seconds earlier. "Early morning in the office, tomorrow."

"What a shame," he exasperates sarcastically, settling back down to his heels and handing off the bag to Mina as she walks by with a carefully placed elbow into his side for...being the way that he is. "Don't let us keep you."

"Be nice." You hear your friend groan from just down the hall.

Everything the same as it always is.

Shrugging and reaching to his other side, the man grabs a single popcorn — tossing it into his mouth with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Don't worry, I was just leaving. Some of us still have work to do."

You have really got to get this out of your system.

  "Mina!"

Shouting through the open flooring of the living space towards your friend, you don't bother waiting to hear back a response before you carry on with the thought.

"Is the downstairs bathroom working yet?"

"No, you have to use our bathroom. Upstairs, to the right, all the way down."

With a quick yell back, you hurry yourself up the while, marbled staircase — not having to go particularly badly yet but mostly instead wishing to get away from the volume of the crowd downstairs for a bit — you realize it's your first time having been on the second floor of the home. Still so new and unexplored, you can't help but take in the sight in a way that feels akin to sight-seeing.

The two certainly did not do badly for themselves.

Slowly making your way down the hallway, your attention is instead drawn to a single room to the left and just before the end of the hall — the tiniest bit of flickering, blue light spilling out from the open doorway — simply enough, you know who reside inside.

Carefully sneaking past in an attempt not to disturb him as he works, you can't help but turn your head to peek at the man inside: head cocked to the side to hold his phone there as his hands work busily at a keyboard on the desk in front of him — but you should really know better than to think that you can get away that easily.

Eyes picking up and towards you, one hand pulling upwards and pushing out his index finger towards you. That silent motion that we all know.

The 'come hither.'

Glancing back down the hall from the direction in which you came, you slowly step towards the doorway, palms nervously pressed to either side before slipping past as quietly as can be — then, with the flick of his wrist, Doyoung motions for you to shut the door behind you.

Your heart rate spikes so hard you feel dizzy.

Hand shaking as you reach out and toward the door, you carefully pull it closed behind you — not all of the way, still sitting ajar just behind you — but seemingly good enough for the man and with eyes glued to you all the while, it's then that he motions once again with his finger for you to come to him.

A slow saunter, feeling the way that your heart beats so hard and fast against your chest you're certain that the people on the other end of the phone can hear it, once you reach just beside him, it's then that he finally swivels his chair around and to the side to face you.

Along with issuing another command: To get on your knees.

The truth of it is that it's humiliating how aroused you already are by it all: A quiet, drowning culmination of so many things happening all at once. The fact that it's so wrong to be doing at all, the fact that you had only an hour ago been downstairs reconsidering if it was worth it entirely given how horrible he is, and beyond all of that — the unknown.

A dull thrum between your legs as you slowly kneel down and between his, thankful at least for the friction that that provides.

Legs spread wide before you, you watch as Doyoung slowly slips one hand down the front of his pants to settle over the growing bulge beneath. Barely noticeable strokes over himself and only inches from your face — remaining calm and collected on the work call in his ear as he does so, you slowly bring a hand up to unfasten his belt as the heady desire of watching him work himself begins to course through even pump of your veins.

Catching your wrist in his other hand just as quickly to stop you from touching him, the two of you make eye contact: a look in his features of displeasure and disapproval.

You're not allowed to touch him.

Watching in silence as Doyoung's head falls back against the office chair, barely able to make out the strands of black hair sticking to his slicked forehead — you can't hear him, on account of the call, but the visual enough to drive you mad, and probably even worse than the dream had ever done — pressing your thighs together as tightly as you can manage as you eye the movement of his fist beneath the fabric of his slacks. Growing faster, using his free hand to pull his shirt up and out of the way so that you can watch the way the muscles of his abdomen move with every tug of his hand against his cock — it's truly the most excruciating and simultaneously intoxicatingly arousing thing you've ever watched.

Internally begging for the request that you climb up and onto his lap to take him, or at the very least taste him, you realize all too suddenly that you might really be in over your head this time as you watch him come in his pants for your viewing pleasure, only.

Completely silent, heavy breaths as his chest rises and falls with each one, Doyoung brings his head back up from the back of the chair to tentatively meet your eyes once again as he pulls his dirtied fingers from the inside of his pants.

Playing with the way that his cum coats his fingers for a brief moment, he motions for you one last time — but this time, a much different meaning to that single, cum-covered digit.

You waste no time leaning toward him, and for a moment, it's like you don't even recognize yourself, anymore; long past the realm of the kind of lust-drunken stupor you've ever experienced before — and as the man shoves long, sullied fingers into your mouth, it's an automatic response the way you suck and swirl your tongue around them, as if wishing them to be the cock you would be more than willing to beg for any moment now.

When finished, Doyoung frees his hands from your lips, only to motion you away from him just as simply as he had beckoned you.

 Stumbling down the hall towards the bathroom in which you had originally intended to find, panties slick and soiled with nothing besides your own desire — the words from your bestie ring loud through your memory in a horny daze.

'Intense' might have been the understatement of the year.

When Mina invites you to a work party for her husband, all that you can think about is the night of their housewarming: sucking his cum off of his fingers in the dull, blueish glow of a computer monitor.

You wonder if she knows. Surely, she knows.

Similarly, modestly dressed as that night — this time in a nice blouse and a fitted pair of dress pants, your friend praises your attire as you enter the busy conference room, shoving a tall glass of bubbly into your hands just as quickly as you're able to greet her back.

"Thank you for coming," she sighs in relief. "I was so fucking bored."

You can't help but wonder what this evening has in store for you now.

Now that you've gotten a taste...no pun intended.

"Sure, I didn't have anything better to do."

"Unsurprising, stuff like this is your job, after all, isn't it?"

Slipping up from the side of the both of you with a proud smirk — hair slicked back and off of his forehead to accompany the the just as put together look of his freshly pressed suit, Doyoung comes up to settle next to his wife, hand settling just at the curve of her hip.

You sort of wonder what it feels like to so easily be touched by him before shaking the thought from your mind entirely.

"Are you ever going to let that joke go?" You ask with a roll of the eyes. "It wasn't funny the first time, promise it's not getting funnier the more mileage it gets."

"I'll stop making it when you stop showing up everywhere, maybe."

"She invited me!" You scoff, only to watch the man bend over to whisper the response into Mina's ear. "Don't worry, I'll handle her for that later."

Out loud, your response is of feigned disgust at the sight, but inside, the visual of the man so vividly offering himself to someone once again reigniting the lust in your gut.

It's a deep, untamed need to have him, now. Part of you hopes that tonight will be the night that he finally puts you out of your misery. Get it out of your system, and move on with your life. Go back to nothing but pointed distaste for the man that your best friend chose to marry.

"Well, I'm off, got to make the rounds," The man finally says with a kiss to the top of his wife’s head before gifting you nothing but a raise of the eyebrows in acknowledge of your existence. "Have fun."

It's funny, because it's precisely what you had requested. For him not to pretend. To not act differently in any other circumstances — for everything to carry on as it normally would. You wonder if it's a conscious effort on his part to do so, or if it simply comes that easy to the man.

  Quarter past eleven, you make your way out and onto the balcony by yourself — Mina off enjoying herself with a couple of the other work wives — weaving your away around a handful of folded and tucked umbrellas, tables and chairs for outdoor dining — you manage to find yourself a comfortable little nook of privacy off and to the side, and far from the line of sight of any prying eyes.

Thankfully, as it not be much of a habit you wish to be caught partaking in.

Digging into your bag to drag out the long, white stick from its box along with a lighter and sandwiching it between gently parted, red-stained lips, you light the cigarette and inhale with a feeling of relief washing over you — no, not a habit that you find yourself indulging in often, but perhaps after a few drinks on a particular night, you'd be known to have a bit of crumble to your resolve.

You know that Mina would have a thing or two to say, so best that she not know at all.

 "Look at you—"

Not just the sound of a voice, but a mans voice at that being the thing to startle you, swinging around to find the visage only slightly more comforting than that of a strangers.

"—Don't you have secrets."

Strolling towards you with hands in pockets, you watch as Doyoung closes the distance between the two of you with a toothpick between teeth, and feeling like a child caught red-handed, the lump in your throat catches any chance you have at swallowing down the obvious nervousness carried through your body at his discovery.

Turning away and facing out towards the railing of the balcony, you choose instead not to give power to his overwhelming presence as you inhale another puff of the stick.

"It's just a social thing when I drink."

A quick, careful shift of his body and Doyoung just as easily has you caged in with arms on either side and chest pressed to your back.

It's not the only thing pressed to your back side, either.

Mouth dipping down into the crook of your neck as you carry on your desperate attempt to ignore him, he never kisses you — never actually makes contact of his lips to your skin — but the feathering of warm breath that smells of expensive scotch all the same kind of intoxicating, as if having drank the liquor yourself.

"Have you thought about the other night?"

The first, verbal acknowledgement of this between the two of you. Suppose, it always was just a matter of time before actual words had to be spoken in relation to it, but with one hand sliding closer to your own along the guard rail as the warmth of the words linger against your skin, you swallow dryly at the question before attempting an answer.

"Y-yeah."

"Did you like how I tasted?"

Doyoung answers back to you much too quickly for your liking, obviously far more comfortable and in control of this interaction than you find yourself to be — by design, based on Mina's run down of the man and his sexual preferences — but more surprisingly than that is the way that it doesn't feel alarming, or discomforting, but rather, pools the arousal between your legs faster than you think anyone or anything else ever has.

It's humiliating, and unfortunately, that sort of adds to it, as well.

Fingers around your wrist, the man pulls you around and back towards one of the tables just behind where the both of you stand — a small, couch-like set up with a cloth awning that doesn't allow for a visual inside of it unless you be directly in the front of it — Doyoung drags you gently towards it before seating himself down with legs spread, and this time, hands busily working at his belt as he stares up at you.

"Knees."

If someone had asked you why you simply obey the commands, you wouldn't even really be able to tell them outside of the throbbing, painful need to find out what obeying may get you in the end.

Taking your place between his legs, you dare not attempt to reach out and touch him this time, figure, you learned your lesson from the first encounter enough — watching instead as his fingers pull the leather from it's loops, then work at the button just beneath — a quick lift of his hips to press his dress slacks down only enough to expose himself as necessary, but with the added coverage of his briefs, as well.

You realize now, in this moment, that you'll do just about anything to fucking see it.

Same hand as before sliding down his stomach and gripping his cock from under the remaining fabric, you watch with lewd attentiveness as the man strokes himself in front of your face all over again, just as before.

"Want another taste?" He says, words airy and lustful. Nodding your head in affirmation like a dog begging for a treat, Doyoung chuckles under his breath. "Are you wet?"

The question excites you more than anything else, because surely, he's asking for one reason and one reason, alone.

Quickly darting your hand down and between your legs, the man shoots up and off of the back of the seat with a sudden urgency. "Don't. Don't touch yourself. Surely you know without checking."

Nodding again, you try to say "yes," but the words barely escape through the dryness of your mouth.

"Good girl," he answers, leaning against the seat again and slipping thumbs into the sides of the fabric remaining at his hips to pull it down only a few more inches from where it currently lie. Watching intently as his cock springs free from the confines — finally in full view for you — long and perfectly curved, not too thin but not enough thickness to him that taking him would be troublesome, suddenly, it's as if the problem of your mouth being too dry be replaced now by one of being too wet — watering at the sight of something you want to feel inside of you so desperately that by the second you find yourself losing the ability to feign disinterest in him.

Dominant hand snaking around his length again, Doyoung brings his other hand forward and towards you — wrapping around to the back of your head and fingers curling into the strands of hair there. It stings, but nothing too bad, and instead you find the pain only amplify the throb between your legs now as he dangle precisely what it is that you want just out of reach and in front of your face with every slow, gentle stroke of his hand along his cock.

"You want another taste, yeah?" He whispers this time as he tightens his grip into your hair and tilts your head back — perfect angle for the wet, head of his cock to rub just at your chin and bottom of your lip.

It's exciting, painfully so, as the untouched arousal coiling within you threatens. For a second, you really wonder if you can cum from this alone.

"If I cum for you will you be a good girl and swallow it for me?" He says then as the movement of his hand begins to pick up just that much more. "I come a lot, can you handle that?"

For some reason, the thought of the man having full, heavy loads of cum makes you even hotter for him. Something so primal and lewd about the idea of it — but perhaps you're too fucked out on not being fucked by now that you can't tell what's sexy and what's not, anymore.

Either are possible.

"Y-yes," you huff out, darting your tongue out to lick at the bottom of your lip and not-so-accidentally meeting with the tip of his length. Devilish grin taking his features, Doyoung stills his actions just as easily — an impressive amount of self-control. "Uh-uh, that's cheating."

Pulling you up and higher from your knees so that you gain more height above him, with the way that you're positioned over his cock, you think that he may threaten to impale your throat on him in one, smooth go. Deep down, you sort of hope he does.

"Spit."

The command comes through so strong in tone that you quickly answer to it, collecting enough saliva in your mouth to dribble down and onto the already plenty wet shaft of his cock as he continues to stroke himself through it with a low, throaty groan that makes you want nothing more than to swallow him whole with how close you are to it.

"Wanna suck my cock, baby?"

You nod wildly.

Hissing through his teeth at the sight of your neediness, he picks up the pace of his fist along his shaft as he settles you back down to your original position between his knees — tip of himself pressed along your lip. "How bad do you want it? Will you beg to have me in your mouth?"

"Yes, please—"

"I didn't say to beg, I just asked if you would," he amends with a patronizing cock of his head. "Want me to fuck your throat? Choke down my cum for me like a good girl?"

The throb nearly unbearable now, you can only whine at the words as he gets closer and closer to his own completion.

"Why don't you open that pretty little mouth for me so I can give you what you came here for?"

The words coming out in a deep, throaty groan as he teeters on the edge of completion, you allow your jaw to fall slack as he fucks himself with his hand a few more times before moaning out through gritted teeth at the feeling of his release — ropes of warm, wet cum painting your cheek and lips despite mostly being caught on your tongue as he comes in waves with every pull of his fingers along his length until finally stilling — leaning forward only to gaze upon his artistic handy work before telling you to swallow it all as previously instructed.

On the way home that night, only ten, simple words lingering on your mind as you make peace with the discomfort of your arousal along the way.

'so I can give you what you came here for.'

"Mina! I'm—"

Turning the corner and into the kitchen to find the door to fridge open — this is all well and good, except for, of course, once it closes and you're forced into contact with the same man who just came in your mouth unceremoniously a week prior.

Expressionless otherwise, Doyoung raises an eyebrow at the sight of you in his home before closing the stainless steel door and walking the other way.

"Guess my lovely wife forgot to inform her employee about the schedule change!" He says with a huff.

"You have got to let that joke go."

Right back to the usual. You wonder what sort of cruel games God plays when granting such a horrible man such a beautiful cock.

Shrugging and turning to look back at you from over his shoulder, the man takes a pitcher of water from the counter; pouring himself a glass before taking another one down from the cupboard and filling that, as well. Slowly carrying on towards you, he hands you the perfect crystal before nodding towards the marble island sitting in the middle of the kitchen for you both to take seats at.

Watching him move, it's such a different feeling from the one that intimately, you've grown a bit accustomed to. You know well enough that people involved in kink and alternate lifestyles are just regular people, but suppose you find yourself never having been so involved with one.

Or rather, fooling around with one who also happens to be married to your best friend.

Oversized, brown sweater hanging off of broad shoulders and thin, round framed glasses, Doyoung perches himself onto one of the stools with a gentle clank of his glass against the cool marble beneath — elbow snug against the hard material and hand serving as a means to lean his temple against as he looks upon you.

It's a little bizarre, feeling him watch you in a way that doesn't feel sexual at all. In a way, you find, it might be the first time Doyoung has really paid you any attention at all beyond the irritating banter of your joint, non-intimate involvement.

Looking charmingly soft and domestic, it's hard to make sense of the man seated in front of you, and the man who asked you to spit on his dick a week ago.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Taking a small sip from your glass, you try to drink down with it the nervousness of being in his presence, but suppose, maybe just a normal conversation will help alleviate that much.

"Have you...told her?"

Stilling, as if not quite sure what it is that you're asking, Doyoung's eyes first pull away from you in some attempt to gather knowledge from elsewhere that he not quite have in front of him. "Yeah, she told you I would."

Thumbing at the rim of your glass, intentionally avoiding any and all eye contact with the man, you hum in response. "What does she think?"

Glancing up, you catch the sight of a grin taking the mans lips, tongue darting across his lower lip like he's finally cracked the case of what all of this is about — settling back into his position from just before with a wide, gummy smile that you're not all that used to seeing.

"She thinks it's hot, is that what you want to hear?"

Snorting at the reply, you shrug. "I don't know. I guess."

"If this is some juvenile way of asking if everyone on our end is okay with the way things are taking place thus far, then the answer is 'yes,'" he says with an annoyingly judgmental tone to his voice. "Everything good on your end?" He adds much to your surprise, popping your head up suddenly at the question.

"Uh," you begin, bashful at the thought of further acknowledging the goings on between the two of them at this current point in time. "Y-yeah, everything is good."

Answering you first with a nod as he sets the glass into the sink, the man carries on down the short hallway and out of the kitchen entirely.

"Well, I've got work to do. Mina'll be home in about a half an hour. Make yourself comfortable, you apparently live here, after all."

Frown on your face at the words and tightening the grip on the set of keys that most definitely go to this home — suppose it's a fair enough assessment.

  After a much later night than usual, with Mina in bed and keys of your own, it's simple enough to let yourself out.

Dimly lit hallways all of the way into the kitchen, it's on your way to sneaking out that you recall having left your dirty glass on the counter — and without giving Doyoung any more reasons to be a thorn in your side, obviously, it easier to be dealt with now. Easy enough.

Except that apparently this guy fucking lives in the kitchen.

Laptop propped up onto the same counter that the two of you shared your small chat earlier, the man watches you move slowly through the area — carefully reaching towards your glass and taking it into your hand as you slide it towards yourself and turn to set it precisely where it is that it belongs.

"Sorry," you whisper on your way past him again and towards the kitchen exit, before that familiar, strong hand finds itself looping around your wrist all over again.

You don't know if you can handle another night like the other two, however.

Pulling you into him with your back to his chest and still seated in place, you think it perhaps a good idea to have worn a cute little sun dress today.

That's not the only surprise you have in waiting, either.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other slinks down to the inside of your thigh — you delight in the feeling of the man touching you, really touching you, for the first time. Delicate pads of his fingers feathering up slowly to the apex of your thighs, it's only due to the position of you against him in such a way that he feels the knocking of something hard against his wrist as he attempts to move closer to your vulva.

And it causes him to still completely.

Seconds of silence passing between you, nearly holding your breath at the anticipation of what's to come — you wonder if he'll choose to punish you for daring to go out on a limb and do such a thing, if punishment is even really something he would do — so many questions and possibilities, all more exciting than the last.

Slowly, you feel him lower his head down, mouth just next to your ear as the very same traveling hand pulls back to your behind and presses a finger right up against the exact thing causing the intrusion.

"Well, well, well," he whispers teasingly against your flesh. "Someone came over with expectations."

Already having opted out of verbally replying to him, he makes it easy with the ease in which he pushes you forward to give him space to stand — fingers pressed into the side of your neck from behind as he hurriedly urges you towards the darkened, least lit countertop in the kitchen.

It's a nice attention to detail: Not that the two of you have to sneak around, but pretending to makes it all that much more worth it.

Forcing your face and chest down and folding you over, Doyoung bunches the fabric of your dress up and over your ass just before diving by hand into the back of your panties for precisely the device that has him in such a mood.

"Who told you to wear this?" He asks with a gentle press against it. One finger extending down, he dips into your folds just ever so lightly before pulling back up with a chuckle under his breath. "You're so wet. Aren't you a little cockslut?"

The shift in Doyoung's demeanor this time hard to ignore, like a little bit of him lost in some sort of primal, animalistic lust to have you — it's precisely what you had been going for, after all.

Distinct sound of him hurriedly trying to pull himself from his jeans, met then with the feeling of long, deft fingers gently tugging your underwear down your legs — Doyoung pulls your hips up and out just enough before pressing your thighs closed together with his cock sandwiched in between and the plug in your ass on display for him as he continues gently pushing and pulling on it with ever shallow thrust of his hips against you.

It's excruciating, the promise of feeling him snug between your walls in only an inch or so of adjustment — head of his cock rutting gently against your swollen clit as he aimlessly fucks the wetness of your pussy from the outside — you regret the way that the quake of your thighs give away the fact that you may be able to come from this contact alone.

Slowing his movements against you with hands firmly pressed into the dip of your hips, Doyoung leans down and against you to whisper more torment into your ears.

"So close, baby," he huffs out. "You're so wet, could slide inside of you so easily — fuck you raw right here, would you like that?"

As if the knowing and the wanting wasn't enough, the talking always ending up as your ultimate downfall with the man.

You nod despite the way in which the side of your face lie against cold, unforgiving marble — looking back at him as he administers this particular punishment of the night. You're not sure if it's intended to be a punishment — of if any of it really is, but it certainly does feel that way.

Perhaps you're just a little bit too used to getting what you desire, with ease.

"Sort of want to," he says through gritted teeth, a certain tonal anger that you don't think you've heard from the man in your encounters before but that causes you to clench hard around nothing all the same. The promise of finally getting what you want to bad — the taking of what he wants and needs of you even in spite of himself. One hand sliding up your back and setting on the back of your neck again, he pulls his hips back just enough to position the tip of his length perfectly at your entrance — threatening all the while with shallow pokes to sheath himself inside of you once and for all.

"Fuck you stupid, have you babbling my name while I fuck you full of my load like the cum-hungry bitch that you are, that's what you want me to do, right?" Without giving you time to respond, you feel him pull hard enough on the plug embedded in your ass to remove it, tossing it into the sink only a little bit away. "Come over here with this in makes me act a little fucking crazy — but you haven't earned having me in your cunt just yet."

Hand swooping down from the small of your back and cradling instead his length as he positions the tip of himself at your well-prepped asshole — well enough lubricated from topically fucking your pussy, Doyoung presses himself inside of the tight cavern slowly with a bitten bottom lip and a forced back groan from his chest as he sinks inside of you as delicately as he can muster.

You're thankful enough for his attention, but it's not your first rodeo, and you prepped for a reason — pushing your hips back and against him as signal to carry on, he brings the hand back up and to your shoulder, leverage to pull you back with force and onto his cock with every following snap of his hips.

Truthfully, he feels fucking exquisite inside of you.

"Fuck, Doyoung—" you whine, only for one hand to swing around and over your mouth just as quickly as the words exit.

"Don't address me," he grits through drives of his hips into you — moans spilling out through his fingers all the same as if no hand there at all. "Don't talk, just take my cock like you're supposed to."

Nodding, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to come so badly and not knowing if you can get there untouched — tears threatening the corners of your eyes with every relentless yet heavenly drag of the mans cock inside of your ass — it's then that you feel the ghosting of fingers over your clit. A feeling so exciting to you now that you nearly bear down against them, to which, Doyoung chuckles at your neediness.

"Can't just come from my cock in your ass?" He whispers, the lewd sound of his hips meeting the flesh of your behind echoing through the otherwise empty bottom floor of the home. "How much do you think I'd have to rub you before you came all over my hand? Ten seconds?—"

The light, feathering of the tip of his fingering feeling nearly electric over your clit now, you moan out into the palm of his hand with eyes clamped shut. "—Five seconds?"

Breathing heavily through his hand as he continues his relentless drive into you from behind, pulling his hand away from between your legs you whine loudly against the flesh of him at the loss of yet another release, but instead, the hand around your mouth curling fingers between your lips as you happily and seductively suck around them like cock presented. Groaning at the sight, his other free hand traveling up the length of your torso and finding purchase against your breast as his thumb gently circles around the bud there — Doyoung leans down to curl his lips into a smile against your back at the sight of all of the ways that you're willing to fall apart for him.

"I think you can come without it."

Gently fucking his fingers into your mouth — simulating the presence of his length currently buried in your ass, also buried down your throat, with the additional stimulation of gentle tugs and flicks of his thumb against your nipple, pressing your thighs together tightly — you suspect that he might be right.

"God, look at you," he groans, slowing his hips to focus elsewhere as he watches the way you hungrily lap at his fingers. "You want to suck my cock so bad — have you always wanted it, baby?"

It's nearly involuntary, the moan that rips through you as the words leave his mouth.

Just shy of baby talking, condescending certainly, Doyoung pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your tongue as he shoves all of the way into your mouth to the best of his ability given the angle. "That why you act like that? Need me to fuck your face open, make you gag on it a little bit so you shut up?"

The words, with a particularly sharp snap of his hips, has your legs pressing in on themselves in just a way that you know with a little bit more movement, you can get there. Through tears brimming in your eyes, you manage out a desperate plea past the mans fingers — met with such a familiar sinister grin, Doyoung picks up the pace of his hips — harder and fuller with length against you as you nearly cry out around the fingers still dug in between your lips.

Digging a hand up from your chest and in your hair again, knuckles twisting into it hard as he chases his high, with a bit back groan he gazes down at you — standing tall and firm from behind you as you barely manage to meet eyes with him from your twisted position.

"Gonna come, baby?" He whispers through labored breaths as he teeters on the edge of release. "Want me to fuck my cum in your ass, don't you?"

"Yes, yes—" You chant at the promise of finally being able to come in the presence of the man. You're thankful when it's only two or three more stutters of his hips into you from behind before he releases into you — hot cum spilling into your hole as he shoves the full length of himself inside as he finishes. It's enough for you, thankfully, enough friction from the movement of him against you to have you barreling over the edge along with him with a shriek and a whine through his fingers as you come hard and long for the first time since you two have begun your rendezvous.

Chests heaving as the man gently pulls himself from you, you quickly bend down to pull your panties up to catch the mess of cum already immediately making its exit from your used, stretched open hole. Turning back around to face him as he effectively cages you in with arms on either side of the counter — the two of you make eye contact briefly before a gentle flushing of embarrassment washes over you and you're forced to pull away from the man that only seconds ago was inside of you.

"Try to remember to wash your dishes, would you? I can't do this every time."

Turning back suddenly, you playfully slap at his arm as he shimmies his jeans back up and around his hips.

Mixed drink and a slightly over-cooked quesadilla in front of you on the table of a busy, evening restaurant on your side of town — in the company of a handful of shared friends, Mina and her miserable husband, you can't help the pique in curiosity about the ins and outs of such an arrangement from inside of the marital home.

How much their relationship benefits from the retelling of such engagements with your best friends husband. How much their sex life benefits from it.

Watching from your peripheral — an attempt to not make it so obvious, how interested you are in the dichotomy of it — Mina and Doyoung playfully flirting and touching each other from across the table as if the man hadn't just sodomized you in their kitchen only a few days prior.

It turns you on even that much more. The mystery behind it.

"God—" An exasperated sigh from the man; black turtle neck and fitted black jeans just under the table as he sets his glass back down onto the table with a disgruntled scrunch of facial features adorning his face. "—This drink is terrible, I should say something."

Squinting, the pointless complaint pulls something from you. Such a typical, stuck up, rich guy thing to say.

"Drinks are two dollars here, what did you expect?"

"I don't care if it's two or twenty dollars, if I'm paying for it then it should at least be drinkable."

Eyes turning towards your friend seated next to you as she meets your gaze just the same, a swift kick across the way to her husbands shin has him rolling his eyes and jolting back in his chair. "Be good, Doie."

"Yes, dear."

"Can't take him anywhere," You whisper to your friend, well within earshot of the man, which of course only causes him to lean in and towards the both of you with an irritated frown. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Better than talking to you."

"Trust me," he sighs, leaning back into his seat again. "The feeling is more than mutual. I wonder everyday how you ended up with a key to our place."

 For whatever reason, that one stings in particular.

 Normally, dealing with Doyoung is something that you're used to — but tonight, there's a certain tone to him that you find hitting somewhere in your chest in a much different way. Not just banter, but perhaps a deeply personal disapproval of not only you, but your friendship with his wife.

It's not that you anticipated starting a sexual relationship with him to have fixed your dealings outside of it — quite the contrary, actually — but maybe enough was enough, now.

You've cum on my face, the least you could do is treat me with a basic level of respect.

 Napkin out of your hand and onto the table in a way that it's obvious of your displeasure, you stand suddenly and inform Mina of your departure to the bathroom. "Do you want me to come with you?" She of course offers, only for you to quickly dismiss it and assure her that you're fine as you carry yourself off and down the short hallway to the small, two-stall ladies room.

Leaned over the dirty, wet, black granite counter with both hands pressed into the edge, you look at yourself in the reflection — needing a moment to cool off, you're still relatively unsurprised when you don't receive it.

Cracking the door open, you watch from in front of you as the most insufferable man you've ever known slips inside to join you.

"You having fun?" He starts, already with intent to have a fight with you. "Have fun causing a scene?"

"Oh, I'm causing a scene!" You chime sarcastically, "not the guy who wants to complain about a two dollar drink not being up to par. Does it ever get exhausting? Being so fucking far up your own ass?"

Rushing towards you in an instant, Doyoung wraps a hand in your hair from behind — first pushing you forward with the momentum of it but just as quickly ripping you backwards and towards one of the empty stalls. Door slamming shut behind the both of you and just as quickly allowing the back of his shoulders fall to the wall, he works quickly at his belt as the sinister look in his eyes never once leaves your own.

You wonder how he has this kind of power — only seconds ago the most horrible man you could ever imagine being around, but now, watching him stare you down as he works to free his cock for you in this public bathroom — you realize that it's that precise mixture of things that makes his desirability so strong. Painfully so, as the throb between your legs already finds itself stirring up once again.

Barely pushed down his hips and freeing his hardening length, languid strokes over himself as he stands in front of you never once breaking eye contact for a second, you realize in humiliating silence that you're waiting for his command.

Of which, he quickly grants you: "Why don't you put that mouth to good use, for once."

Maybe if you hadn't been wanting it for so long already you'd be more willing to put up a bit of a fight, but finally being granted one of the things you've been dying for since the beginning of this endeavor with him — falling to your knees in the filth of this bathroom stall and immediately taking him into your hand with a long, enthusiastic swipe of your tongue up the bottom of his shaft — the low, breathy groan that it grants you reason enough to pull forward to take the head of his cock between your lips and swirl your tongue there, only to press down along his length for as far as you can before the tip of him threatens the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, it's not much of him that you can take before that happens.

Hand in your hair again as you've grown so familiar, you hear the sound of his head falling back against the granite before parting his lips to speak. "Gonna have to do a better job than that. How good can you be?"

You know what he's really asking.

Pulling you forward by your hair harder along his length, you struggle to accommodate him in your mouth, but it's not the first time you've done something like this — he's not asking too much of you — but it's sudden, and the burn against your throat something you're not used to feeling as your gag reflex begins to trigger and tears well up in your eyes at the struggle.

Doyoung pulls you back only slightly so that you can take a deep breath before bringing your mouth back along him. "Come on, you're gonna have to take it all, baby."

The words 'have to' immediately pooling between your legs, especially.

Gagging around him, the man moans through the sounds of you struggling to take his cock into your throat, he begins shallow, short thrusts against your mouth in an attempt to bring your nose flush with the skin of his pubic area, but with this not being something you've done often enough — there's part of you that wants to fight through it, because frankly, you've been fantasizing about this very moment since the very first night you tasted his cum from his fingers, anyways — but perhaps you should have practiced a bit more (or at all) at home in anticipation for this night.

You don't want to, but everyone has limits.

Three fast taps of your hand against his thigh, Doyoung immediately removes himself from your hair, allowing you to pull off from him just as quickly — coughing into the crook of your elbow as you attempt to regain oxygen into your lungs, you can't see much through the wetness gathered in your eyelashes, but you do hear the sound of him tucking himself away again before kneeling down to meet you on the floor.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"No," you rasp out, sounding far more fucked and broken than you actually are, but rather, a physical result of the assault on your throat. Really, you're fine, just too much, too fast. "I'm okay, seriously, just couldn't yet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Concern dripping from his voice — he's not touching you, purposely as to give you enough space from him, you shake your head with a chuckle as you bring your hand up to wipe the tears away from your eyes before making eye contact with him again.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, I was a little too enthusiastic, I think."

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Chuckling again at the way that the man almost insists on handling you with kid gloves, you roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm not broken, I just can't deep throat seven inches of dick on a whim without a bit of practice."

"Aw," Doyoung coos, running a hand gently through your hair, before standing himself and helping you to your feet. "You think I'm seven inches. That's sweet."

Sniffling hard and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before straightening your clothing and dusting off your knees, you shoot the man a confused frown. "Bigger or smaller?"

Unlocking the stall door and motioning for you to exit, Doyoung offers you a simple wag of his index finger and a pompous grin before answering.

"A lady never tells. After you."

With weeks of fooling around with Kim Doyoung under your belt now, you find a certain level of trust and comfort established. Exemplified by his adhesion to boundaries and safe words at the drop of a hat, you can't help but recall the words that Mina had offered you so early on in the initial discussions of this foray into ethical non-monogamy.

'He's a good dom.'

Sure, you have a lot of criticisms of the man: That he's brash, boring, conceited, self-important and a whole other mess of ways to say that he's far from the kind of man you'd like to see yourself with at the end of the day, but one thing is for sure — safety, respect and trust are of the utmost importance to him.

Thinking back to that time in the bathroom — immediately unconcerned with the state of his erection in favor of the state of your well-being — sure, it sort of is the bare minimum when it comes to this sort of sexual play, but something to be celebrated, all the same.

So now, you may have an interest in rearranging some of the terms of your agreement.

  "Honey, I'm home!"

Annoyingly sing-song in a way that you know will irritate the man of the house but be effortlessly charming to the person that you're there to see — when met with silence, you're a bit disappointed. After all, playing house in spite of Doyoung's clear distaste for it has turned into one of your favorite past times.

Both the playing house, and the irritating him parts.

"Hello?" You ask again, listening to the way the words echo through the empty, lower-level of the home, only to eventually be met regretfully by the husband — apron-clad and wooden spoon in hand as he settles a straight-faced look upon you without offering anything for words.

Then, he turns back and into the kitchen from which he came.

A roll of the eyes, you set your bag down on a chair near the door, kicking your shoes off and following after him — eyes pulling towards the familiar countertop that you've more than become acquainted with as you circle around to the other side of the kitchen island to sit in the very same chair that the man had been seated in the last time that the two of you had your...engagements, here.

"So," you sigh. "When's Mina coming home?"

"She's not."

The words sort of send a chill down your spine, because the first thing that comes to mind is that the things that the two of you have been engaging in have now torn their relationship apart.

But, Mina was the one that told you to come over.

Glancing over his shoulder while perched over the stove — obvious horror splashed across your face, Doyoung laughs at the obvious line of thought in your mind. "She's on a business trip."

"Then, why did she tell me to come over?"

Halfway into turning his attention back to his cooking, he brings his head all the way back to look at you again: It's a look that says, "you know why, don't play dumb now."

He doesn't offer verbal confirmation, but you understand the jist of it well enough with just that. "Have you eaten?" He asks instead, to which you nod. "Yeah, had something on the way over."

It's sort of perfect, the way that the pieces fall together as Doyoung stands across from you at the very same island — a small bowl of soup being shoveled into his mouth with no particular haste as you watch him — gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, it's a cozy look that you're not all that used to seeing from him considering the majority of your involvement with him has been out and about.

You've been meaning to bring this up, anyways.

"I think—" you start quietly, picking at the skin around your fingernails lightly. The nervousness being the first thing that Doyoung notice as his eyes travel up from his empty bowl and towards your own, waiting for you to finish the thought.

"—I don't want to do this anymore. With you. It feels wrong. I can't do it anymore."

The layer of silence that falls across the atmosphere of the kitchen feeling so suffocatingly thick as you wait for his response — the man simply staring at you quietly through his eyelashes without even the slightest bit of movement until his lips part ever so lightly to speak.

"Color?"

And with confidence, you whisper back "green."

Squinting at you, you recall back having mentioned this to Mina in passing: the resistance kink. The desire to be 'taken,' to have a complete loss of control over the situation — participating in something so dirty, so wrong, and loving every second of it so much that you desperately wish for the morality of it to be out of your hands entirely. 'I want it, but wanting it is wrong. Only when stripped of the choice entirely is there true freedom to desire.'

And obviously, she passed it along to him, but the discussion not having happened in full means that now it's up to you to take matters of consent into your own hands.

But slowly raising from his slightly folded position, Doyoung brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing it out, and coming back to you in silence. The discomfort is poignant, so, now you have to ask.

"Color?" You slowly drop from dry lips, and without breaking his suffocating gaze on you, he whispers back pointedly "yellow."

The word exits his mouth quietly, smoothly, as if really trying to drive home to you how much this is not the way these things are supposed to work: Truth of the matter is that you know that, and this should have been discussed at length long before tonight — but you trust him to be able to make the adjustments, and worst case, to stop if you should need him to.

You're hopeful that he trusts you to do all of the same.

Then, he parts his lips to speak again. "—But, green."

It's his way of letting you know that you've gone about this all wrong, but all things considered, he's willing to roll with the punches, anyway. Jutting towards you, Doyoung wraps long fingers around your wrist, ripping you off of the stool and nearly knocking it to the floor as a result; tearing the apron from his waist as he roughly tugs you out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and swings you around to press your back against the shining, platinum railing of the banister in the hallway.

"Why did you wear jeans?" He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, quickly pulling apart the button and zipper to roughly drag the tight fabric down your legs.

Frankly, you didn't know that you'd be doing this tonight.

Stepping out of them and shoved down the hallway to be sufficiently out of the way, the man hoists one of your legs up and over his shoulder — one hand digging fingers into the side of the crotch of your panties to grant him quick access to your already anticipatory pussy.

However, him being eye level with your cunt not particularly how you had expected this to go — ever, really.

Looking up at you from between your legs and through devilishly narrow eyes, the man makes one, simple, request: "Tell me about the dream."

Diving into your folds as his tongue presses flat and firm against your clit — the sudden feeling of him having you like this making you dizzy with want, you find yourself entirely unsure how you're expected to recount much of anything to him like this — and especially once he begins unrelenting suction to you that threatens to make you cum almost immediately.

Attempting to bite back your moan, and instead opting for a breathy 'fuck,'  you know well enough that if you don't adhere to the command, he'll most definitely stop.

"Y-you—" there's an attempt to speak at least, until two long, thin fingers bury into you to the last knuckles.

Pulling his mouth away from you and licking at his lips lewdly, he cocks his head to the side playfully. "Better start talking or I'll stop."

"God, okay," you exasperate as he dives back in. "Was...against the wall, you fucked me against the wall — we weren't—"

"Allowed?" He pauses again only long enough to finish your thought with a grin. Nodding quickly, Doyoung still slowly fucking into you with his fingers as he watches you fall apart from above him, he coos at the look and sound of you — perhaps finally coming to an understanding of what all of this is about.

"Good girl," he hums gently, lips brushing against your wet folds without much intent behind the contact. "Can you do me another favor?"

Breathy and already a little fucked out, you whisper out a "yes."

"Come on my mouth."

Leaning up and into you again, tongue firm into your clit with tight, intensive swirls — it doesn't take long for you to follow through as one hand falls down and wraps into his hair — holding him firm in place as you involuntarily grind down against his mouth as you come blindingly hard onto him. Long since needed and the orgasm from the night in the kitchen hardly offering the release you had been looking for — Doyoung lending his face to you in such a lewd, particularly out of character act of a blending of roles — as you come down slowly from your high, you watch the man pull away and out of you with a gentle ease, sucking his fingers clean of you before wiping his face with the back of his hand and standing tall in front of you.

 "Want to fuck your best friends husband, but don't want to be responsible for the repercussions of it, huh?"

 You just came, but the promise of getting exactly the fantasy that you wish for out of this throbbing between your legs pooling just as if you hadn't.

You don't even get to answer before the same, dominant hand is wrapped up in the hair at the back of your head and pushing you down the hallway, towards the bedroom.

Stumbling inside as he roughly pulls you around, once the both of you reach the edge of the bed, Doyoung sits you down just in front of him — not letting you free of his grasp, but instead with his other hand, freeing his growing erection from his pants and pulling your mouth against him harshly.

Of course, you take him in with ease.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth like this," he groans from above you, eyes glued to the place where he disappears inside of you. "Always knew you wanted me, that's why you always act like that, just need me to put you in your place, don't you?"

Moaning at the words and around his dick as he shallowly presses inside of your wet mouth, speed slowly picking up with each passing moment as he continues to talk you through it. "What are we going to do if my wife finds out? Suppose we just can't let that happen, can we?"

You hate the way the thought has you clenching down hard.

"That's why you're over here so much, isn't it?" Doyoung asks through gritted teeth as he continues fucking into your mouth, gently prodding at the back of your throat with each thrust. "Just begging for me to fuck your mouth? You love my cock, don't you?"

Pulling his length from you only long enough for you to answer back and breathy 'yes,' he sheaths himself inside all over again

Only a few more thrusts before grunting, Doyoung pulling himself from your mouth to fist over his cock and lined up with your face — you display your mouth open with tongue flat as he comes over your flesh again — warm, heavy ropes of himself painting your face and mouth before quickly angling your head down again to place his length between your lips for you to suck him clean, as well.

Holding your head back again and bringing his other hand up, thumb spreading the wetness of the act across your lips, chin and cheeks before shoveling most of it into your mouth as your lips close around his thumb to suck the digit clean just as you have with his cock — groaning into the look and sensation of it, Doyoung gently taps the inside of his fingers against your jaw, signaling for you to open your mouth all over again as he shoves two fingers in to swirl around the mixture of cum and spit collected there.

Slipping back and away from you, the command comes through simply. "Swallow."

You do so without question.

Wiping your mouth with your shoulder and taking in a heavy breath, you sigh out while looking up at him. "We can't ever let her find out about this?"

But glancing down at you with the most evil look in his eye, you watch as a single corner of his mouth gently pulls up,

 "You think I'm done with you?"

 It sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your pussy, Doyoung suddenly reaching forward to turn you around and bent over the bed as he pulls your soiled panties roughly to the side with a tear. Rubbing the head of his cock through your soaking slit and against your still sensitive clit, you grip hard into the sheets beneath you, attempting to pull away from him but to no avail as he grips fingers roughly into your hips to keep you precisely in place and displayed before him.

"Think you can take it all, baby?" He sighs, leisurely stroking himself back to full hardness as his tip slowly begins to split your pussy open from behind. "Can you be a good girl for me, take the whole thing?"

Whimpering against the mattress at the desperate, delicious burn of his cock finally entering you after so long — what feels like a lifetime of desiring having him buried inside of your walls, finally being granted to you with slow, almost delirious ease as he sinks into you from the back, you answer him honestly. "N-no."

"I don't think so, either," he responds with a comfortable ease as he continues with his initial stroke. "But you're going to try, aren't you? Not used to taking such a big dick?"

"No, fuck, Doyoung—"

"God you want this so bad, already so fucked out on my dick and I'm not even inside all of the way," gently pulling his hips back only to rock back inside, even such a simple movement granting him a cry out from between your dry lips. Leaning forward and over your back to plant a hand down between your shoulders and holding you in place, Doyoung repeats the action again to elicit the same response from you all over again.

"Oh, you love a big cock," he grits out through his teeth as he finally settles into a rhythmic pace against your behind. "You love my cock. Say you didn't want to do this, didn't want to go through with this, but I don't think that's true at all, is it?"

Pulling out far enough for only the tip of him to remain inside of you before drilling back hard into your cunt, you nearly cry at the unrelenting pressure of him against your walls, and in particular, against your g-spot. Thighs trembling and stomach tightening with every full, hard drive of himself into you, it's an attempt to form a full thought but instead, the words come out as only babbled sobs as he drives hard and firm into you.

"Do-Doyoung, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm—p-please, please, fuck—"

"You gonna come, baby?" The question comes through with hastened, airy breaths as if close himself. "Come around my dick for me? Wanna earn my cum?"

Nodding fast against the mattress, he grunts into a particularly hard thrust against you. "Make your lil cunt so messy."

Pulling himself back up into a straighter, standing position at the edge of the bed, fingers firmly dug into the flesh of your waist as he pulls you back hard onto his cock — the sudden angle change toppling you over into your orgasm unexpectedly as you cry out for him and curl your own nails into the sheets beneath you as your release rips through your body — simultaneously, Doyoung falling victim to the way your pussy clenches down around his length, fucking you roughly through your orgasm as he reaches his own with bit back, throaty moan at the way your cunt nearly milks his cum from him with little movement and so much ease — burying himself so deep into your guts that it threatens to hurt and whining at the near pain of having him so fully inside of you as he coats your walls.

Chests rising and falling, Doyoung pulls from you and falling next to you, it's much to your surprise when familiar hands tug you to the side and seated over his hips.

 "Split yourself open on my cock and come again."

 The words themselves nearly enough to do you in, but with the unrelenting throb of your untouched clit impossible to ignore, you follow the command as you position your hips over his impressively hard length and wasting no time burying him inside of your messy, cummed-in cunt all over again.

Leaning back ever so slightly and quickly rubbing circles into your clit for his viewing pleasure as he pulls the sweatshirt still clinging to his chest up to expose more skin of his abs and chest — reaching your free hand down, you touch over the skin there, feeling more of him and the way his abs reach to not only your touch, but the visual just in front of him.

"Fuck," you whimper, already feeling the threat of another orgasm building as your walls squeeze tightly around his seated shaft. "Fuck, Doie—"

The pet name.

"God, don't call me that, I'll come in your little pussy all over again," he nearly whines through an exhausted chuckle. It's a sort of endearing, almost break in character that you're not used to seeing from the man.

"Come on baby, be a good girl and come for me," he starts again with a fucked out whisper as he watches you twist circles into your pussy just above where his length disappears inside of you. "Show me just how bad you wanted me inside of you."

Toes curling and teeth gritting as it washes over you all over again — a nearly silent scream of an orgasm as your mouth hangs open through your release — a similar, quiet groan from the man beneath you as he watches and feels you come on him for the third time tonight.

 He takes his jobs very seriously.

 Giving you a moment to calm before heaving you off of him and standing in front of you again, as you sit up to meet his dick with your lips just as before, you can't help but be seriously impressed by his ability to maintain an erection.

You're beginning to understand why Mina married him, after all.

"Clean me up," he commands, hand gently weaved into the back of your head in such a familiar way. "Enjoy it while you can, it's the last time you'll get to taste me."

True as it is, you find yourself surprisingly somber at the thought of this being the end of the arrangement, as agreed upon. Far from an emotional connection, but rather, a mental one — a mutual understanding between physical lovers. The trust, the communication, and safety inherent in this particular pairing of people.

Plus, his cock is perfect and he fucks like a pornstar.

Licking up the length of his shaft, truly savoring the taste of his cum and your own mixed along it before taking him deep into your mouth and bobbing slowly, carefully, full of intent along his cock — partially for the show of it, and partially because yes, it's the last time, and you'll miss this more than you might have thought you would going in.

"You're amazing," Doyoung sighs, gently pulling his length from between your lips and folding over just enough to be only a few centimeters off from your own face with his. "Open."

Obeying the command and jaw falling slack, the man allowing the collection of saliva from his mouth to drip lewdly into your own — missing direction ever so slightly and catching partially at the corner of your mouth — Doyoung brings a hand up to thumb at the messy corner before finally closing the distance between both of your mouths and pulling you into a full, intense, passionate kiss — tongue immediately pushing forward to lick at the inside of your mouth — it's breathtaking and intimate in a way that nothing else thus far has been.

And pulling away with a single, thin, string of saliva connecting the two of you by mouth yet, Doyoung's lips curl into a sinister grin as his eyes pull from your own, to your lips, then back up to meet your vision again.

 "Happy to help."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—part 2!

[biggestxsimps]

Yandere Taro & Ayato x male reader

Where reader is a popular guy who’s friends with all the groups. He always has his arm draped around someone, either across their shoulders or around the waist (platonically.) However everyone has developed feelings for him because of it. Especially the yan duo, who aren’t too keen on sharing with anyone else but themselves.

Kidnapped By Obsession

Yandere!Ayato Aishi + Yandere!Taro Yamada x Male Reader

A/N: Hello! This fic was requested over on our Tumblr! Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely enjoyed writing this fic, probably one of my favourites I’ve written yet. This fic is a little over 2.3k words, thank you for being very patient with me, this was delayed for a little while but I hope you guys enjoy it. Any feedback is appreciated!

(I do not support yandev.)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 

Yandere simulator, Yanderes, Murder, Weapons, Blood, Violence and Kidnapping!

Y/N arrived at school late, a few minutes after the bell had rung for break. He walked over to his locker, putting his bag away and grabbing out his bento box. Just as he shut his locker, Kokona popped up into his vision, a small smile appeared on the female's face. “Hi Y/N-Kun! I didn’t see you in the morning so I figured you weren’t coming to school today.” she spoke softly, taking his hand in her own.

Y/N smiled in return as Kokona started to lead him towards the doors of the courtyard. “I slept in.” he responds, chuckling softly as he pushes the door open, Kokona following after him as they stroll through the courtyard, eyes following the two. Well, more so Y/N. An extremely well known and popular guy at the school, he practically befriended everyone he knew. He was very charismatic and easy to get along with.

Kokona let out a small laugh, slowly letting go of his hand. Osana looked up, seeing Y/N had finally arrived. She groaned softly, seeing the purple haired female there besides him already. She huffed, turning to face Taro who was already watching the two approach them.

“Taro! She’s always with him, practically a fly stuck to a spider's web. It sucks, I never get alone time with him without that idiot around.” she whined lowly, referring to Kokona.

Taro locked eyes onto Y/N, he couldn’t help but stare, completely blocking out Osana’s whining and complaining. He could feel his heart race slightly, he couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was absolutely perfect in every way, shape, and form. Whilst he was lost in thought, Osana grew increasingly irritated with her best friend, she shoved him harshly, Taro suddenly snapping out of his thoughts.

Kokona exchanged a friendly greeting with Taro, trying her best to greet the ginger. Meanwhile Osana snarled slightly, being completely impolite but still managing a quick ‘Hello.’

Y/N greeted Osana with a happy expression, absolutely glad to see his friend after the weekend. Osana’s demeanour changed within seconds as her friend acknowledged her. “Hi Y/N-Kun!” she spoke ecstatic, her mood being ruined when he turned his attention to Taro.

Taro smiled slightly, watching him. “Hello Y/N..” he said timidly, feeling his heartbeat pace faster. “Hello Taro, it’s nice seeing you again.” he spoke, giving a small nod.

The raven haired male’s cheeks lit up, dusting a soft pink coat as Kokona and Y/N started to walk off, Osana walked after them, Taro shutting his book and following closely behind. “Can I come? It gets kinda lonely just sitting here.” he hummed, finding some excuse to come with them.

Y/N gave a small nod of approval, Taro walked behind them, listening in on their conversation, trying to pick out the things on Y/N.

A few minutes beforehand, Ayato was propped up against the tree in the courtyard, stalking Taro as per usual. He didn’t feel the same, not like he used to when stalking him, he wasn’t lovestruck, he barely felt anything anymore for him. His heart wasn’t running 100 miles an hour like it used to.

He was pulled away from his thoughts as he watched two new people enter his vision. He could recognise Kokona, but Y/N not so much. He had seen the other around school, but he didn’t think much of him until now. His heart raced, feeling his cheeks heat up as he cupped them slightly, letting out a sound of frustration.

He shook his head slightly. He needed to remain alert at all times, no time for fussing over Y/N when he ‘loved’ Taro.

Aishi observed them from afar before deciding to walk after them, making sure to maintain some distance. He wasn’t going to let some lousy male get between him and Taro, he would ‘still willingly’ do anything and everything for him.

Once they arrived, Taro took a seat, Osana and Kokana sitting beside him, Y/N sitting on the edge beside Osana, engaging in some small talk with her as he ate his food.

Taro averted his gaze, watching Osana with a loathing look in his eyes. He was vaguely annoyed, not liking how much attention Osana was getting at all. He nearly lost his cool just from the simple touch of Y/N placing a hand on her shoulder in a friendly manner.

Kokona noticed his irritation but decided to stay quiet, not thinking further about it. She was sure the two friends had some small argument earlier, there seemed to always be an issue between those two.

Not far away, Ayato was watching from the doorway to the roofs before moving over to a wall nearby where they sat, glancing around the corner, trying to overhear the conversation. It was when he’d realised that Y/N had his hands on Osana’s shoulders, his face contorting into a look of slight disgust.

Timeskip:

Over the last few weeks, Y/N had started to see a repeating pattern of Kokona and Osana constantly ignoring him, or walking off every time he tried to speak to them or anything. In fact, when he would go up to other people they’d just dismiss their conversations and go elsewhere. He was super confused, why were people suddenly avoiding him.

Had he done something wrong? He hadn’t heard anything bad.

He found it slightly weird that only Taro and Ayato had come up to him with no worries at all, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, he was sure it was nothing at all.

Kokona and Osana were both absolutely petrified. Not only for themselves but also for the safety of Y/N.

Kokona had received an absolute brutal letter not long ago, threatening to blackmail her or potentially murder her if she got in the way between Y/N and Ayato. Whilst only a few days ago Osana was held at knife point by Taro as he intimidated her, Y/N right around the corner.

It was just a little after school as Y/N roamed the halls in hope to find someone he could speak to. He averted his gaze, seeing Budo just outside of the martial arts club.

Budo looked up, seeing Y/N come over to him. He sucked in a breath, looking around nervously before he spoke. “Haha! Y/N. It’s great to see you! What brings you to the uhm-..martial arts club?” He asked, raising a brow and crossing his arms over his chest.

Y/N observed the others body language, letting out a small groan in response. “You too? Budo. What’s going on?. Have I done something?” He asked, praying for answers. It was really starting to bug him now, he even thought it might have been the bullies doing, but even they turned a blind eye on him and he was respected by them too.

Budo stepped from side to side slightly, trying his best to suppress his nervous fidgeting. He glanced around before grabbing Y/N’s wrist gently, pulling him inside of the club room before shutting the door and looking around in panic.

Y/N slowly draped an arm on his shoulder, tapping his shoulder gently to try and distract him from his worries. “Budo relax, nothings going to happen. Whatever you’re worrying about..I’m here.” He smiled.

With reassurance from Y/N, Budo stopped and looked at him, leaning into his comforting chaste touch. “I overheard a conversation between Yamada and Aishi talking about how to make others avoid you. I’m unsure why but they were rambling on about how everyone is taking you away from them.”

Y/N looked at the other, he wore a blank expression. He was unsure how to feel at the sudden news. But it did make sense why others were avoiding him so much and why Ayato and Taro hadn’t. He could feel himself going to be sick. He gave a small nod, smiling slightly at Budo. “Thank you for telling me, I appreciate it..” he responds, pulling the martial arts club leader in a warm hug.

Budo reluctantly wrapped his arms around his torso, giving a small nod in response. He closed his eyes for a moment, figuring how dead he would be if he were caught anywhere near Y/N. He slowly opened his eyes, fixating them onto a familiar looking silhouette through the doors. He immediately let go of Y/N in panic, pointing back at the door.

Y/N whipped his head around, only getting a small glimpse of the shadow before the person fled. He sucked in a breath, his heart starting to race. He glanced around, grabbing Mastudas wrist as he opened the door and poked his head out before he started to quietly walk down the hallway with him.

The raven haired boy looked around quickly, keeping quiet, as if he was trying not to alert the person. He knew many people wouldn’t be around so he Prayed they would get out of there quickly.

Within minutes, the two had flown down the stairs, running side by side, footsteps trailing not far behind them as they exited the school building, slowing down when they heard the steps come to a halt. Budo leaned over, resting his hands on his knees as breathed heavily, Y/N leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think..- we lost..them..-” Budo sighed, slowly getting up.”Go home Y/N.” he spoke again.

Y/N raised a brow, he was clearly worried for Budos safety. “Are you sure?” he asked, Budo giving a small nod of reassurance once more. Without another word, Y/N gave the other a hug before quickly leaving the school grounds. He had great faith in Budo, he was the leader of the martial arts club.

They went their separate ways, Y/N starting to head home. On his way home, he couldn't help but feel tense. He couldn’t shake off what Budo told him minutes ago, he felt weirded out. What would Taro and Ayato want with him? He was convinced that Taro and Osana were in love, he was also sure he had caught Ayato stalking Taro too months ago! He was starting to overthink it too much, he was driving himself down a pothole of anxiety.

Whilst he was lost in thought, someone approached him from ubehind, following closely behind him, awaiting for the perfect moment to strike. Within seconds, the figure wrapped their arms around Y/N, a black glove covering his mouth, the other gripping onto his side tightly to stop him from moving around. “Quit moving, unless you want to die.” The voice spoke, slowly bringing a bloody knife to his neck.

Y/N went stiff in their grasp, immediately recognising the voice. He went into an instant state of panic as he stayed still, listening to every word they said.

There was no way Ayato would actually hurt Y/N! He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He loved him alot, even more than when he had loved Taro previously. Something about the other drove him to absolute insanity, he couldn’t see himself getting violent with Y/N like he thought about with Yamada.

After a few threats and thrashing around, Y/N slowly complied with him and did as he said. He had tried his best to fight back, but the awkward position wasn’t helping him

Ayato grabbed out a cloth which was already covered in chloroform. Wasn’t the safest option, but he figured Y/N could handle it. He held it against Y/N’s mouth and nose. Slowly but surely his body went limp in the other's arms, everything going black.

A soft groan fell from Y/N’s lips, his body aching slightly. How long had he been out for? Just as he went to stretch out his body, his movements were restricted. He hissed slightly, feeling rope burn against his skin. He then recalled what happened, immediately his body going into an utter state of panic as he tried his best to compose himself.

A disgusting scent filled his nose, the smell of something metallic and rusty.

He was snapped out of thoughts as he heard something scuffle nearby, the lights being switched on. Y/N squinted his eyes, allowing him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the brightness before his gut whirled.

Taro walked in, Ayato following not too far behind him with a small smile. “You’re awake! I hope Ayato wasn’t too rough. He insisted on bringing you here.” He spoke, grumbling softly.

Ayato rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Y/N looked up at the two horrified. He could still imagine the bloody gloves, the feeling of the liquid leaking onto his clothes whilst he was fighting against Ayato.

Oh he could only imagine whose blood it was…

He prayed that Budo got home safely.

“I didn’t hurt him. He's fine. See, no injuries.” Ayato spoke, kicking off the wall and walking over to Y/N, gripping his chin gently. “You’re not scared, are you?” He asked lowly.

Y/N tensed up, shaking his head. “Whose blood..was that on you?” He asked with a shaky voice.

Ayato chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. “The martial arts leader, uh Budo Matsuda. That guy who had his arms around you..” he mumbled, his skin crawling just at the thought of others being anywhere near him.

Y/N sunk back into his chair, his breathing quickening slightly. He knew he shouldn’t have left Budo alone. “You’re sick! Both of you- Oh my fucking god..” he yelled out, seeing Taro dragging Budo’s limp body along the floor. He felt sick, visibly gagging a few times.

Yamada glanced over at Y/N, smiling slightly and rubbing his neck. “Sorry Y/N, I gotta get rid of the body.” He hummed. He looked extremely happy, it made Y/N sick to his core. How could someone be so cruel?

Y/N looked away, clenching his eyes shut tightly, hoping that this was just all a bad dream. He shut out the voices of both Ayato and Taro, his whole world going quiet as he sat there in silence.

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 2

[writersdrug]

hehe hi! anon here! didn’t know what you wanted in terms of request but 😭 how about like a comfort request? i’ve just had a pretty bad academic related experience, so maybe head-canons of any character of your choosing for comfort?

Ooooh I like this a lottt.... of course I'll be using the CoD boys, but I might throw some random ones in here too, be prepared lol. Thanks for the request!!!

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE OMGGGGG

CoD 141 Headcannons: Comforting You through a Rough Academic Period

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He wasn't really the academic type, so he couldn't entirely understand why you let yourself agonize so much over your studies.

But he respected the fact that you were working so hard to achieve your goals. Something he never got to do often for himself, since most of his job was just following orders.

He would sit there and watch as you sat, neck stuck out towards your computer and your back hunched. He'd sigh, moving behind you to roll out your back, wincing as it popped.

"Christ, love - get up and walk around for a second, yeah?"

"I'm almost done with this module, just let m-"

"Up. Now." He'd order you to move, but would drag you out of your seat whether you started to move or not. "You'll get stuck if you sit like that for too long, looking like an old man."

"Like you?"

"Oi!!"

Simon would practice your flashcards with you, although he wouldn't be very helpful. He'd just shake his head when you got the answer wrong, not bothering to help you find it.

"... is it the femur?"

"No."

"... the tibia?"

"Nope. Try again."

"Can I get a hint?"

"No."

"..."

He knew to NOT distract you when you were on a roll. He can manage keeping himself busy while you studied, doing his own work or helping with chores around the apartment.

He knew, from experience, how easy it was to forget to take care of yourself - so he did it for you. He brought you water every time you emptied your cup. He would bring you snacks periodically, or he would cook a meal for the both of you. He'd sit and eat with you, not making any conversation so he doesn't distract you.

"Anything you need, love, just tell me."

If he caught you getting distracted, whether you would glaze over what you were reading, or your conversation with him would go just a bit too long, he would redirect you back to your work.

"Finish that bit and then take a break with me."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

He hated the fact that all of your time was being consumed by something other than him. When he would walk out of your bedroom first thing in the morning and see you bent over the table with your laptop and notebook, he would groan internally. He'd rather you be be bent over the table for him.

But he remembered how often you waited for him while he was deployed, so he patiently waited for you.

Well, as patient as he possibly could be.

After about three hours, you'd be the one lecturing him, telling him to go watch tv or go out and do something so you could finish. Every now and then, he'd only agree to leaving you alone if you would promise to go out to dinner with him, whether it was casual or fancy. After agreeing - and several kisses for convincing - he'd let you be.

"Wear your favorite jeans, ok?" he'd say.

"You mean your favorite jeans?"

"... yeah." he'd smile ear-to-ear.

He would stand behind you, his head resting on top of yours, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he read along to the biochemistry textbook you had on your screen.

"Shite, hen, you studying to be a fucking wizard? What is all that keech?"

He'd constantly throw passive-aggressive praises at you, saying how you're so strong for sticking with your studies, and how he would have given up after looking at the first page.

"You gonna remember me when you're up there with the brainy blokes?"

"Of course I will, you're helping me pay for this."

"For feck's sake, I forgot 'bout that."

More than once, when you dropped your head down in frustration, he would walk over and hold it back up towards the screen.

If you studied in your bed or on the couch, he would sometimes lay with his head in your lap, wrapping his arms around your thighs with a tired pout on his lips.

"Hold me when you're finished with that, yeah?"

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He admired your determination to get your degree - he felt a sense of pride every time he saw you studying, especially on the days where it was particularly hard for you.

He was your #1 supporter, constantly encouraging you, praising you, and helping you see what your working towards. He'd be carrying you through the lows of your emotions, making sure you didn't feel hopeless.

"Of course you got this, babe, you're so fucking smart!"

While you were reading the module in the textbook, he'd be looking up videos on his phone about the subject, watching it on the lowest volume so as not to disturb you.

He'll sit on the floor with you, your notes strewn everywhere, listening to you talk about the subject you're working on. He'd do his best to engage in conversation with you about it, hoping that it helps you retain the information better.

Truth be told, he doesn't know much about the subject, but he's just happy to help. He'd let you vent about your current frustrations.

"It says that this piece is in 3-4..." you'd mumble.

"Yeah?" he'd reply, not sure where you were looking at on the page in front of you, but doing his best to follow along.

"... and that this one is in 4-4 too, but each note is made up of triplets."

"Triplets?!"

"Yes! And THIS one is 2-4, ALSO with triplets!! They all sound the same!!"

"How the fuck are they different?!"

"You tell me!!"

You knew he wasn't sure what you were talking about, but that he knew what you needed - a shoulder. And he always provided you with that, no matter what kind of day he'd had.

He'd encourage you with snacks, going through your flashcards with you and tossing you a pretzel every time you got one right.

"Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake' starts off in a blank chord."

"Melancholic?"

"Close, but try again. Think simpler."

"... minor?"

"There you go." he'd toss you a pretzel from across the couch.

Captain John Price:

Mans goes full dad-mode when helping you study.

He has a week away from missions? You'd best believe he's spending it at the dinner table with you. He'd work on his own things, sitting next to you, while you study.

He had a no-phone rule at the table while you worked. At first you whined and fidgeted with your hands, itching to check your phone for any form of distraction. Eventually, you gave up, diving into your studies as Price smiled smugly.

Like Simon, he'd be bringing you snacks and water throughout the day. Lots of shoulder massages, scalp massages, and stretch breaks (he'd try to participate, until he'd strain his back too much).

If he notices you struggling, evident in the way you scowl and grip your hair near the scalp, he'd sit right beside you and try to help you understand the material.

Unless it was math. He couldn't stand math.

"What's that?"

"That's mu."

"Come again?"

"It's a Greek letter, it represents the population mean."

"English, love."

"N-no, it's Greek!"

"Huh?!"

"Never mind, John, I got it from here." You'd kiss his cheek, thankful for the moment of amusement he'd provided. He'd continue staring at the screen, grumbling about how ridiculous math had become over the years.

For at least one of your breaks, he'd insist on taking you for a walk. You'd stroll around the neighborhood, basking in the chilly Autumn air mixed with Price's warm arm around yours. As hard as it was for him to drag you out of the house, you were thankful for his stubbornness to get you moving. The pace of the walk and the sound of the atmosphere around you helped clear your head of any frustration and brain fog. You'd close your eyes and lean your head against Price's shoulder, trusting him to take the lead.

A day spent studying was rewarded with an hour or two either in front of the tv, lying in Price's embrace, or the two of you just sitting on the cough together, having a conversation free of your school subjects. Most of the time, you'd fall asleep before him, and he'd let you lie there for a minute before he'd carry you to bed.

"Try not to work yourself too hard, love. Y' need to be strong for me tomorrow."

[euphorickaeya]

hello ! for the drabble event, can i request kaveh with the prompt: “this was the last time, okay ? i got you. i'm here. i'm not leaving anymore." the reader can be gender neutral (they/them pronouns). thanks, have a great day <3333

Hi! Thanks for requesting! Please enjoy!

“You have to understand, we need a god to rule us.” Al Haitham looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his voice laced with frustration. “And you need to understand that I’m not the god you want ruling you!” You fought back, just as fierce as the acolytes who sat in the room.

“Your Grace, it’s your sworn duty, it’s not to be argued—“ Ei tried to explain their side, to convince you that it won’t be that cruel, that you won’t suffer under their repetitive pleas for unnecessary help.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my duty! You’re all hypocrites for telling me so! You all left your nations under wreck, if anything this was your doing!” You screamed, slamming your fist onto your throne of marble, angered, tired and almost hateful.

“Enough!” Zhongli stood from his spot. His eyes glowing a distasteful yellow. He looked over to you, tired of your tantrums, tired of your stubbornness. The brunette felt like he was taking care of a child, rather than a god.

You looked at zhongli with a perplexed look. Wondering what’s gotten the Geo archon so annoyed.

“You are going to have a ceremony, and you will be introduced as Teyvat’s divine being. You are going to accept it, it is a contract you made, being our god, to this world.” Zhongli spat, before finally pulling his chair out to leave, his footsteps heavy with tiredness and lack of care for the meeting.

“…meeting dismissed.” Ei stated after a few minutes of silence, following towards her fellow archon’s footsteps. As if it was a sign, the rest of the archon and important figures seem to trickle out as you’re left there appalled by what Zhongli had forced onto you.

You were so shocked that you felt around for your throne, feeling your legs wobble uncomfortably before losing all feeling in them.

It was like your whole body had collapsed, but you were still conscious, you paralyzed to the core and your stomach twisted in ways it shouldn’t. A hitched breath left your lips as you tried to calm yourself through some fresh air.

A wheezing feeling was bubbling in your chest as you grabbed onto it, your free hand hitting the marble chair you sat on, as if desperate to breath.

You were having a panic attack.

“Your Grace?.. I-“ Kaveh seemed to enter at the right time though, seeing you hunched over as tears started to stain your royal robes, you cried and cried silently into your lap as your hands beat against your chest as if to tell your body to stop it, stop the embarrassment you were about to gain by crying like a baby.

“Your grace?! What’s wrong? What happened?!” Kaveh was instantly to your side like a moth drawn to a flame. His face was full of worry, raising your head to his eye view to really look at you. Tears and snot followed the shape of your face, making your cheeks feel sticky, your eyes felt dry and wet at the same time, and a sad symphony of hiccups left your frowning lips.

“I can’t do this. I can’t, Kaveh. These people, they’re bringing me to my downfall. If that ceremony is successful, I will never get to go home. I will be stuck here forever.” You sobbed out, tired and scared, doubtful of any way of getting home to your life once again.

You feared the thoughts and events that could happen in this cruel world. This universe where you had no idea who you were or who to trust as true acolytes, you were scared to the bone.

Kaveh looked at you in pain and thought about his stupid worship to you. What if you truly were their god, but you wanted to be human? You wanted to experience what they do, what they make, everything.

Kaveh thought long and hard, his heart breaking with every cry he hears leaving your mouth. Why should you continue to suffer when teyvat’s archons are able to give up their spots as gods? Why must you be the only one to stay as a god?

“This is the last time, okay? I’ve got you.” Kaveh pulled you into his arms, engulfing you in a cozy warmth as you gasped in shock, feeling him so close to you was scary at most. Unable to take those who scratch at you to get a chance to just touch a square of your skin.

“I’m here. I won’t leave you. You can confide in me.” Kaveh whispered into your ears as you hugged him tighter, somehow finding comfort and hope in his words. Kaveh could only cradle you into his chest as his mind raced a million miles a minute.

Kaveh doesn’t want to be like the rest of your acolytes, always begging and skittering around your feet asking daily for what they wanted and not what you wanted. He wanted to be your confidant, your person, your everything. He convinced himself that he did not want anything, not like your other acolytes.

You only squeezed him a little tighter, maybe Kaveh was different, maybe he actually wanted you to be happy. You cling onto the unrealistic hope that maybe Kaveh was your ticket out of Teyvat.

Although, Kaveh grew weary. His grip subtly tightened on you as his eyebrows furrowed, even if Kaveh wanted you happy, his desire to benefit from you was secretly harder. He knew he shouldn’t, but he knows like any other acolyte, this is not to take a chance.

How much longer would it be for Kaveh before he’d turn just like the so called acolytes you have gained?

[chibipeachu]

Pretty Songbird || Aleksander M.

A/N: I watched snakes and songbirds and had this ideas stuck in my head ever since i saw it last week, idk if it's gonna be a series, if you have any ideas pls tell me!!

WC: 1311 Warning: Fem!Reader, the moon summoner trope, not proof read so i take credit for mispelling or mistakes..

Alina sighed as herself and Mal walked into a busy club to get away from their pursuers.

“It should be too crowded to notice us in this crowd, just keep the hood on.” Mal whispered to Alina as they moved closer to the stage where others stood, waiting for the performer. 

“Want something?” 

Alina turned and nodded as Mal gave a quick nod before walking to the bartender.

As alina went to stand near a corner of the crowded club she bumped into another young girl. “Aww, sorry..” “Ah, i’m sorry.”  They both apologized to one another.

“It’s alright, just a throbbing but it’ll go away with a drink.” The girl brushed it off and gave alina a smile. 

“You look familiar..” Alina felt her heart drop, as the expression the girl made was of realization. “You’re her aren’t you?” Alina tensed up and lifted her hand in case she need to summon to stop the girl from doing something.

“It’s alright, your safe here, i just recommend the further booth over there if you don’t want to draw attention..” Alina followed the girls direction and saw an empty booth and nodded at her. “Thank you..?” She waited for a name.

“Y/n, i’m a performer here tonight.” She smiled and pointed towards the stage were drunks and many excited people stood waiting.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

People whispered to one another as they noticed the brooding, darkling who was accompanied with other grisha, they all had looks of distaste on their faces as they scanned the club. 

Alesksander’s attention jumped as two women in front of him talked about the performer. 

“Is it true she can summon?” 

“Rumors say she can but was sick during her testing and got dismissed.” 

Before any of them could provide aleksander with information, a young woman, dressed in a loose blouse and what looked like the first army pants.

“Based on all the chatter I could hear from back there, I assume it’s about myself?” You grinned as you scanned the crowd.

A mixed of positive responses came from the busy club.

Aleksander noticed how each of his grisha searched the crowd.

“Aww stop it, i’m blushing!” You playfully waved to the crowd before turning to the band who waited for your sign to play.

As the band started up, you danced around the stage a bit.

“So if you don’t know, i wrote this many, many, many years ago when i was stuck as a showstopper for tow men on each side of the fold, one more then the other..” You referenced to your pants before raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander wasn’t surprised, zlatan of course wouldn’t share a summoner with anyone, especially the king and aleksander.

“Can’t take my charm,

Can’t take my humor,

Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever with keeping.

No nothing you can take was every worthing keeping.”

As alina listened to your singing she glanced around the room and froze as she spotted aleksander and the other grisha in the club.

Alina subtly nudged mal who popped up and ushered alina through the crowd to leave quickly.

As you took a breath, you felt yourself stop for a moment, as you took note of the dark eyes of the darkling.

“Thinking you’re so fine,

Thinking you could have mine.

Thinking in control, thinking you can change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again if that’s your goal.” 

You stomped your boots at each sentence, making the crowd cheer.

Through the small break of your singing, you held strong eye contact with the darkling, from what zlatan had told you, he was saving you from the general who had “tossed your abilities aside” those were the only words you believed from the first general, you had tried to get test when you were a teen but got reject when you said you could summon.

“Can’t take my sass,

Can’t take my talking.

You can kiss my ass,

Then keep on walking!

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.” You stared him down while continuing to sing.

Zoya scoffed as she followed your and aleksander’s gaze to one another. 

Aleksander looked away from you to look at the sour expression on her face.

“She’s insulting you to your face..” 

“I know..” He responded, his eyes moving back onto you which your eyes were closed as you finished the song.

“Nothing you can take from is worth dirt,

Take it cause i’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..”

As you finished the crowd cheered making you grin and gave a bow before walking to your bandmate and motioned for behind the stage before exiting, they band continued to play as you left.

Aleksander hadn’t noticed zoya rambling on how disrespectful you were, he piped up as you left the stage. “I’ll be back.” He told zoya before walking outside the club.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You quietly exited from the building and leaned against the building.

You were now screwed, after many blissful years away from zlatan and kirigan it had to come crashing down.

Being upset you got up and kicked the tins in the back alley of the club.

“That was quite the show..” You jumped at the general’s voice.

“General kirigan..” You greeted, walking to pick up the fallen over tins. 

“You worked under zlatan?” He questioned, making you chuckle. 

“What made it obvious? My clothes or the song?” You asked, putting the lid back on before turning to his figure.

“He rarely sent letters to the palace grounds to let us know of anything.” 

You scoffed, knowing where he was trying to lead the conversation.

“Bullshit, don’t play like you never knew about me, I stood in front of grisha testers and was denied a retest because of my ability, each test is shown in front of you, in your lap to see the newest grisha!” You walked closer to him as you went on.

“Nice try to play that card but the only words I ever believed from zlatan was that you tossed me aside.” You brushed past the darkling and went to enter the club again but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist in a tight grasp and pulling you back to face him.

“You could train in the little palace with others, be with your own kind.” He tried to convince you.

“You missed that train where I wanted to fit in with others badly, I will not be trained to replace your little sun summoner.” You ripped your wrist form his grasp and walked back into the club.

Aleksander stood by himself in the alley, shocked you had decline his offer.

After he collected himself he walked into the club to collect his grisha.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Weeks had passed since the incident at the club.

Aleksander hadn’t been expecting a meeting with the king, he was confused at the sudden arrangement.

“Tsar.” Aleksander greeted as he entered his war room.

“General.” King Pyotr greeted, letting aleksander step in further before continuing. 

“Is there a reason you called upon me?” Aleksander questioned.

“When you were visiting ryevost, did you happened to see this girl?” The king unfolded a drawing of the singer he had a conversation with weeks ago.

“She’s rumored to be a moon summoner, if anything, everyone’s after her. And i believe she’ll do good here in the little palace under your control.” He continued, aleksander studied the poster.

“I’ll send grisha to find her…” The king smiled and nodded in aleksander’s direction before getting up and leaving.

Once gone, aleksander picked up the paper to admire your beauty. 

“I’ll find you, songbird..” He muttered as he read over the paper.

Y/N Y/L/N  - GRISHA - WANTED BY KING PYOTR AND GENERAL KIRIGAN.

[surferblues]

bad luck charm| r.c

pairings rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings smut (18+ only, minors dni), unprotected sex, cheating, praise, oral (f rec), bathroom sex, unestablished relationship, spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes. ALL FICTIONAL.

"seven minutes isn't even alot." you hissed, rolling your eyes as the blond boy kept the signature smirk on his soft lips.

chuckles of amusement from the party could be heard from the other side of the door, the sound of the door locking was more than an unsatisfying sound.

you thought this game of five minutes in heaven would be fun. it would amuse you to see people walk into the small bedroom with heads down in embarrassment - you just weren't expecting to be the one of the two unlucky few chosen.

"oh, princess, don't underestimate me." rafe husked back, following your trail closely. " i can get a lot more than you expect done in seven minutes."

you perched yourself on the bathroom countertop, that was messy causing you to move some things on the side so you wouldn't have to be too close to the cameron boy.

"out of all people, I'm stuck here with you." you groaned, shooting rafe a warning full glare as he came closer to you.

"aw, poor baby. tonight must be your unlucky night." he cooed in fake sympathy, tilting his head as he puckered his pink lips. as he came closer, you shut your legs together, knowing that rafe would try to play some unwanted game.

you feel the chills go down your spine at the nickname, every time you were around rafe your body would betray you in malicious ways.

"how would you know about my night? y'been stalking me or something?" you snapped back crossing your arms as you fought your unwanted feelings.

his rough hands came in contact with your thighs, forcing them open. "do you think youre really that special?" he rasped, scoffing at you as his cold fingertips absentmindedly traced circles on your thighs.

you rolled your eyes at him, slapping his hands off of your body. "you're such an asshole." your voice came off as soft and vulnerable, he was basically towering over you at this point - causing you to have to lift your head in order to meet his eyes.

this is how it went every time between you two. you two would end up alone together, throwing out meaningless insults towards one another, then doing things you would regret the next day.

"I'm not worse than that asshole boyfriend of yours though, right,princess?" he began peppering small kisses on your bare shoulder blades thanks to your strapless blouse.

ignoring the fact that you slapped his hand off of you moments ago, he firmly gripped your hips and pulled you towards his needy member. you let out a breathy whimper as you felt his dick through his shorts, rubbing against your clothed pussy.

"You're really enjoying this aren't you?" You huffed as he let out a little laugh. "as long as you promise you'll be quick and quiet ?" rafe asked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, removing them before he even had a chance to kiss you back.

you nodded, confirming your lustful needs." I'll take good care of my pretty lil' baby, i always do" rafe whispered with a grin on his face, his hand traveling down towards your heating cunt before he pushed your black little string to the side before he gently caressed your wet pussy with his fingertips while he whispered praises.

"rafe... dont tease me" you whimpered, your hands gripping the blond boy's shoulder for steady support. "ill make it so quick. just follow along,yeah?"

he took you off of the counter, your feet now on the tiled floor.his chest touched yours, his knee worked between your thighs, and he found your lips. 

His kiss was hungry, open lips and dominating tongue, and you moaned softly as you felt his erection through his shorts already. “turn for me” he hummed, breaking the kiss with a soft sound.

you did as he said, not one protest or complaint slipped from your lips. you positioned yourself, your hips now pushed against the sink and you back against his chest. he ruffled up the mini skirt to your hips so he could get a full view of your wet cunt.

"you're always are so good for me." he looked in the mirror, meeting your eyes. his hand slithered towards your neck, wrapping his big hand around your flesh - applying slight pressure.

you were tired of the talking, you needed him. you arched, so your ass was applying pressure to his hard cock that was still covered by his khaki shorts. "ah, baby have patience." he cooed as if you were a child, his hands flying to his zipper in urgency to get his clothes off.

"we're on a tight clock here." you replied, pressing your tongue to your cheek as he pushed his body against yours, an arm wrapping around your waist making you gasp out loud, the sexual tension between you almost crippling at this point.

his nails practically were digging in your hip flesh, without any warning you felt him pull you onto him. his hard cock entering your wet pussy, leaving you both in a daze.

you watched him fall apart from behind you in the mirror, his lips on your shoulders as he leaves bite marks across your chest.

Your hands reach for his biceps, wanting to feel every part of him. He met your eyes in the mirror, taking in the sight of his newfound mess.

"Jesus sweetheart, you're...so...fuckin' tight, feel so good around my dick.” rafe husked, grabbing your waist, slamming in to you from behind, throwing your head back to lean against his chest for support as you watched him come apart in the mirror.

his hand reached for your top, pulling down the strapless top so he could get a sight of your breast. "all mine, all of you is for me." he growled in your ear as he played with your nipples, you were in a daze.

"all for you, nobody else." you whispered hoarsely, and absentmindedly. as soon as your sentence ends, he slams roughly into your wet hole.

he placed his lips on yours, swallowing the moan so none of the party goers could catch a wave of your pretty little sounds.In your mind, thee blaring music and chatter of the rowdy crowd on the other side of the door had long disappeared in to the background as the sound of Rafe's praises and moans filled your ears.

His rough and slow thrusts sending you closer and closer to another orgasm as he nipped at your throat, leaving a trail of violet bruises behind as evidence of your current hook up.

"one more minute left!" you heard from the other side of the door, the voice obviously oblivious to what was going on behind the closed door.

[tunastime]

Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer

hi everyone :3 so um. I may have gotten very much into rvb smiles. and you know what happens when I really love something! and when I really love some guys from a something! yeap. here we go again. I just think caboose could be friends with everyone. I'm a caboose enjoyer what can I say. I love him.

Washington follows the Blue Team back to Valhalla, where he tries to get some much needed rest. Emphasis on tries. (3828 words)

When Tucker and Caboose find the unused, fourth room in the base, it’s Tucker that sweeps his arm out and gestures grandly to the room around them. It’s not very large—bed, closet, table, desk, bathroom. Enough space to walk around in—enough blue-white light to make sure nobody goes insane in somewhere so dark. Caboose goes on about how they’re almost neighbors, listing off what they could do being so close, gossip and sleepovers and the like, and Tucker goes on about how that’s nice, Caboose, and sure thing, buddy, and both speak to a Wash that’s not listening. He’s looking over the room, filtering in through a fine layer of yellow, just enough to change the hue from cool to warm, and something settles in the slope of his shoulders. He turns after a beat, folding his arms.

“You’re certain I can stay here?” he asks. Tucker shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean…” he starts, in the way that Tucker always seemed to do when he was on the edge of a decision that ultimately made him uncomfortable. “Just repaying the favor. Plus you’re the only one who really knows how to get Church outta that thing.”

“Epsilon,” Wash corrects. “And it’s a memory unit, not a thing.”

“Sure,” Tucker shrugs. “Whatever.”

“We still don’t know where that thing is,” Wash says, but it’s without any of the usual bored sting he might’ve normally laid on. He can feel the worry in the room like water around the ankles, like it invaded his boots. He steps side to side for a moment, trying to shake the feeling.

“We’ll find it!” Caboose pipes up, nodding several times. “We’ll find Church. I know we will.”

Wash sighs. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

There’s a beat of silence. Wash feels his lungs work against the tight feeling in his shoulders all the way up until the point where Caboose breaks the silence.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he says. “I’m starving.”

“Good point, Caboose,” Tucker agrees. He turns to Wash as he adds: “You, uh, let us know if you need anything. You’ve got the tour, now, so…”

Wash nods.

“Right,” he manages. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

The silence leftover is mostly full of the sound of air circulating through the room and pulling into his helmet. Washington stands in the room in that long moment, finding his head spinning just enough to rock his balance. He’s not so sure he should even be standing, but Tucker had handed him enough med-kits to keep him running, and his bones felt mostly in place, despite some nasty bruising up his shoulder and back, all the way down his right hip and thigh and knee. He pulls himself from his stuck spot, finally gathering the strength to unlatch his helmet. Both thumbs hook under his chin until it clicks, and he sets it in the armor stand. 

The thing about the armor is that they’re not necessarily supposed to take it off. It does come off, huge chunks of titanium alloy perfectly compressed to fit each wearer, to sit comfortably against layers of computer arrays and magnetic fasteners, bolts and straps and sealers. As soon as he starts pulling, chest pieces and arm braces come loose, and he sheds the exosuit slowly. Underneath is the cool-black bodysuit. That’s the part that really shouldn’t come off. It did, every once in a while, when there was enough time to spend recalibrating, readjusting, resyncing. The suit and all its layers, down to the skin, down to the channel of his spine, from tailbone to nape of neck, aligned with sensors and biocomponents along a fine, white scar to a thick, but equally healed one at the base of his skull, took time to adjust to. That time was precious.

But it didn’t matter with this suit. There was no connection. The suit would simply communicate without having to know, would respond to forces it knew best, and rely on what he had without a physical, grounding connection. He was free of it. The scar and its components would fade from his body. They’d be nothing but a memory.

Carefully, Wash dissects the titanium bodysuit—kevlar—coming apart at the seam, carefully fastened, skin-tight. It’s uncomfortable at first, adjusting to the air of the base, without the suit’s micro-adjustments for temperature and humidity, but he eventually shirks free and places everything in the armor compartment. 

He feels light. He also feels exposed and a little small. He searches for any sort of replacement, sleeping clothes, uniforms, anything plastered with UNSC across the arm or chest or back. When he does find it, he’s quick to pull it on and over his head. The shirt falls crooked across him, pants similarly too large, and he has to wonder what sort of Spartan these were made for, knowing how he certainly wasn’t the smallest soldier he’d met. It’s something, though, and he doubts he’ll be wearing it for very long. In fact, he finds himself tugging it off as soon as he figures out the shower, and douses himself in hot water long enough to get the plastic smell off his skin. 

Without the shadow of the day, his reflection in the mirror takes on a sunken quality. His eyes are dark and tired, lines stretching out underneath them, and the already-pale, now-bony quality of his face does little to hide it. He’s turned all sharp angles all too quickly. But if he’s got anyone to bitch to it would be himself. Well, maybe Caboose and Tucker would listen. But they probably wouldn’t understand. Epsilon might’ve ratted out his bad sleeping habits to Caboose, were he still around to actually see them. But he very well was half the reason they existed, so, touche. 

Besides, now Wash was looking out on a bed that was impossibly too big for him. He pulls back far too many layers of blankets and pushes aside pillows and makes himself a space between it all.

The lights are dim, casting long, fine shadows in the cool light. They dim further to a blackness as he settles, lying back in the few pillows and pulling still-starchy sheets around him. His tired body all but sinks into the mattress, body aching at every joint from overuse, begging to stay and to be comforted. It's there he lies for a moment, adjusting to weight and pressure, air and texture around him. He sighs. It’s the longest exhale in what feels like a very long time. The back of his throat, up through his nose, starts to burn. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a sharp breath in.

Washington’s hands come up on instinct, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he fights back a sound from deep in his chest. It’s hard—it feels so stupid to call this hard, because he could just crack, just for a second. Just for a moment of relief, and—he does, shutting his eyes tight still and willing in a breath through his nose as he turns his face into pillows that he hopes were nobody else's and probably never were and never would be again. Nobody knows he’s alive. Not Command, not Project Freelancer, not the Meta—Maine. Not even Epsilon. For now. The weight off his shoulders was so instant it nearly winded him, on a bed seemingly too large. It was simply him, unshackled, and the blue-white armor in its case, and Caboose, and Tucker. And the base around him was quiet. 

Washington lets his body relax. Sleep comes like a heavy blanket.

His second week’s worth of sleep doesn’t go as well. Tonight, Wash is still awake. It’s not of his own choice—if it were he’d already be asleep, curled into the plush pillows and firm mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are dry, and it’s not all that comfortable to blink, actually. He’d prefer to focus on sinking into this nice bed, but he’s having a bit of a hard time. What he means by nice bed is that he’s gotten so used to sleeping on the ground or in the back seat of a moving Warthog or the jet or his cot so folded and unfolded that it stopped being comfortable, or the bunk that was just the right size but not nearly deep enough to fit him without moving, that having actual room to move around is really good. It’s really good, actually, and he’s not sure when the last time he had such a nice sleep was. 

He’s not even sure when he woke up that first day, aside from the fact that it was Caboose waking him up and it was still dark out—or had just gotten that way. Maybe he’d slept that whole day. But he wandered around the Valhalla base instead, swallowing down the ache low in his spine. He mapped the rooms in his head, twisting around the circular hallways. Kitchen, armory, five rooms, garage, a small central living quarters that remained barren and empty, aside from bits of broken computers, radios, and robot parts. The floor still smelled like cleaner, remnant from the UNSC’s thorough cleaning.

Anyway—he’s still awake in his own room. His eyes hurt. He’s looking into the dark grey ceiling and wondering if sleep might crawl its way back to him when there’s a knock on the door. There’s a brief pause before it happens again. He frowns, scrubbing at his eyes as his brain fights the fog settling over it.

“Agent Washington,” a voice says, feigning a whisper through the sliding door. 

“Caboose?” he whispers back, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t it late? He looks over to the bedside table, reading the dull red numbers on the clock—yeah. Late. “What are you still doing up?”

He hears Caboose sigh. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine him leaning against the metal frame, cheek pressed against the door, looking about as pathetic as he sounds.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, part tired and almost part sad. 

“Why’s that?”

“I—” Caboose lowers his voice even further. “I had a nightmare.”

Wash blinks slowly, sitting up, eyebrows still furrowed as he frowns. He counts himself lucky that his head isn’t spinning from lying down too much. Sighing, he presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, trying to make the blurry room come back into focus.

“You—” he tsks as he words jumble in his brain, hazy with sleep. “Why did you come here?”

“Can I come sleep with you?” Caboose asks, completely ignoring the previous question. Heels of the hands to his eye sockets. Alright. Fine. He waves uselessly at the door, knowing full well Caboose can’t see him. Then it clicks in his brain: response. Right.

When Wash goes to give him an answer, it’s replaced by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open and shut and Caboose wandering in. The muddled dark obscures his silhouette more than usual and the normally wide slope of his shoulders was much more drawn in than Wash was expecting. He’s partially shrouded by his own blanket, wrapped around him as he steps in. 

Wash feels something rolling around in his chest as he watches Caboose shuffle over, like his brain isn’t absorbing the situation properly. He mostly just feels lost. He’s still sitting up, slouched forward, mouth a fine line. His arms pool in his lap, head tilted just so as he observes Caboose in front of him. This is weird, right? Not in a bad way. It’s just weird. 

Caboose stands there, frowning just a little bit, enough to almost be a pout, mostly looking at the bedside and not at Washington.

“I—” Wash starts, trying to protest. Caboose looks up at him for a moment with wide, brown eyes, and Wash feels his chest tighten. He shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. Then he pulls the covers back, gesturing vaguely to the space next to him as he lies back down. If there was one thing he’d learned from Caboose, it was that there was no arguing a point once he’d made his mind up. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and the man wasn’t slight. 

There’s a beat of silence as Washington gets comfortable again against the mattress again, feeling Caboose move to his left. He worms around a bit, knee bumping the outside of Wash’s leg, elbows knocking together as Caboose makes more of Wash’s bed his own space. With Caboose’s arm now pinning his own, he clears his throat.

“Caboose,” he says firmly.

“Washington,” Caboose says, like his name holds the same weight as it did so long ago. At least someone’s impressed.

He sighs. Caboose is a heavy, warm weight against his side, and although he clings to his left arm like his life might depend on it, Washington couldn’t necessarily call it bad. 

“You can either get comfortable,” he says slowly. “Or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Okay,” Caboose says quickly, wriggling further over. As his head lolls, it falls against the bone of the high of Wash’s shoulder. He ends up curled up in the space Wash’s side leaves open, head on his shoulder and arm over his ribcage. He’s heavy, holding himself and Wash to the mattress as he relaxes. Wash’s arm ends up pinned under him, bendable at the elbow, enough to shift around and find a comfortable spot to rest it. Caboose manages to pull the blankets over them both haphazardly, lying part on him and part over Washington’s torso. He squeezes his eyes shut. Caboose cannot be serious. This can’t be his solution, right? He takes a long breath in. Caboose finally says:

“Thank you, Washington,” in a soft and sleepy voice mostly muffled by his shoulder.

Washington sighs.

“Sure, Caboose,” he says, resigned. “Glad I could help.”

Caboose hums, sounding comfortable. In the time it takes for Caboose to finally knock out, how short of a time that was, Wash finally relaxes. He lets the weight around him settle him on the mattress, tired and heavy, and lets his eyes close. He can’t catch the edge of sleep just yet, but he can lay here, quiet and still, so that Caboose can sleep. He matches the slow rise and fall of Caboose’s shoulders, feeling his muscles slacken as he drifts off. Maybe it’s nice, actually. The weight against his side, pressure to the muscles that ache, warmth and heavy comfort. He can’t remember the last time someone shared the same bed space as him—those bunks were too small to really fall asleep next to somebody in, and sleeping in shifts wasn’t the same as someone sleeping against you. 

He can faintly feel where Caboose’s cheek is crushed against his shoulder, where his arm rests over his chest, hand tucked against his other side. When he looks over, Caboose’s eyes have shut, face relaxed in sleep. There, he leans, pressing his cheek to the top of Caboose’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it is nice. Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice. His chest twists, something as painful as it is warm weaseling up next to his lungs. 

It reminds him of Invention. Nobody really wanted to leave York alone after the accident on the training room floor. He could fall or trip, he could miscalculate and hit into something harder than expected. They spent time crammed into the bunk spaces, shoulders to shoulders, to hips, to legs over knees, trying to catch sleep in between missions, how little time that was. Washington found himself in these moments more often than not, and now more than ever it seemed that touch was a thing not often disseminated. But he had it now, and he let himself have it. He let Caboose snore into the hollow of his shoulder and tuned it out as he tried to rest.

In the morning he’ll ask him what bothered him so much that he couldn’t sleep, or why he thought Wash could help. It wasn’t important now. 

For now, he just tries to sleep.

Wash feels heavy. 

He blinks his eyes open, the world coming to in barely-there light and soft blankets. There’s a weight over him, warm and solid. Caboose still sleeps soundly even as Wash shifts to stretch pins and needles from his left arm. The world stays still, held in a quiet balance. In it, Caboose breathes slowly and evenly against his shoulder, torso still haphazardly thrown across Wash’s chest. He’s curled his hand in a loose fist, snagging part of Wash’s shirt. 

Washington sighs. There lingers a heavy, groggy feeling over his mind that he thinks he’ll have a hard time shaking, remnants of running too hard, too fast without stopping. He fought so hard only to again come up empty handed, aside from the now-bitter taste of his freedom. But for now he focuses on this moment. He rests his cheek against the top of Caboose’s head. 

As he does, Caboose hums, waking enough to tense and relax again.

“Good morning, Caboose,” Wash manages tiredly, lying still. Caboose doesn’t move either, except to shift his cheek to a more comfortable position.

“Hello, Washington,” Caboose says, slow and sleep-thick but cheery. “You let me stay!”

Wash huffs out something, maybe a laugh and maybe a sigh.

“You’re surprised?” Wash asks, staring at the ceiling. It takes a minute for Caboose to answer, and in that time, Wash’s eyes shut, too heavy to hold open. Caboose draws his arm back from his chest.

“Tucker’s not very cuddly,” he says, only partially answering the question. “I can’t really judge if people will like it.”

“I take it not many do?” He asks. Caboose shrugs, somewhat stilted, speaking in that long, sighing way that he does.

“It varies.”

Wash hums.

“Right.”

In a beat of silence, Caboose unravels himself. He sits up, swaying a bit, shuffling around. It leaves a cold hollow where he used to lie, and Wash pulls his arm back from where it used to curl around him. He folds his hands over his sternum as Caboose sits up and shifts back.

“How did you sleep!” He asks, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Wash nods, finally blinking his eyes open.

“It was fine,” he says slowly. “How did you sleep?”

Caboose shrugs again.

“I slept okay—” he says. “You scared off all my bad dreams I think.”

Wash snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. Caboose blinks down at him with wide eyes. It’s almost catlike, the way he watches over him, like he’s waiting for Wash to reach out and force him to move out of his space. He’s still slightly blurry, courtesy of the sleep in Wash’s eyes.

“I did?” Wash asks. Caboose nods, looking sincere

“Yep.”

Wash looks away, huffing out. Something turns in his chest, warmly at that.

“Well that’s good,” he says. Caboose nods again. He’s just far enough away that in the dim lighting Washington can’t really read his face, but it seems soft and comfortable and Wash tries to remember if that’s a good thing. There’s only so many times you see someone’s face while being out in the field that you sort of just learn reactions based on tone and less on body language. After a beat, Wash says, haltingly, brain trying to find the words:

“Caboose, what… what is it that you had a nightmare about? What—why did you come to me?”

Caboose shrugs, waving his hands back and forth. He’s not looking at him.

“Oh, you know, just about Church and Epsilon, and Tex, and you, and everyone dying and exploding and dying again,” he sighs, shoulders falling, looking distinctly less bothered than Wash expects him to be. It puts something cold-to-cool in the pit of his stomach. “But it’s okay, you’re still here! And nightmares are afraid of you.”

Wash swallows.

“Oh,” he says lamely. It doesn’t feel right, all of a sudden, to just be sitting here. Caboose tilts his head at him.

“Did you have a nightmare, Agent Washington?” he asks, leaning forward a bit. He squints at him. Wash stares back, eyes wide. “You look kinda pale.”

“Um, no,” he says plainly. “No I don’t… normally dream.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. His face drops. “That sounds sad.”

Wash shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Caboose hums, tapping his hands on his knees.

“You can tell me if you ever have a nightmare,” he says, smiling, a pleased look crossing his face. “I can come and scare it away.”

Wash snorts, a smile creeping onto his face. He folds his hands together, tracing out the edge of his thumb with his other thumb. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at Caboose.

“Are you looking for an excuse to sleep next to someone?” He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. Caboose blinks, eyes falling to his hands. He shrugs.

“No…” he says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Well it…” Wash sighs, shutting his eyes again. “It was nice. Thank you, Caboose.”

“Mhm,” Caboose says sleepily.

There’s a moment of silence. Wash moves to get more comfortable, shifting back to rest his head properly on the pillows. He can feel his body sag as he does, that tired tug pulling on his shoulders and hips and eyes. He drums his fingers against his sternum, watching Caboose. Caboose’s eyes slip shut for a moment as he leans hand against his hand. 

“I’m uh…going to try to get some more sleep,” he finally manages, clearing his throat. Caboose stays still, as if he’s fallen asleep again, shoulders weakly rising and falling as he breathes. “Caboose?”

There’s no answer. Caboose leans sideways as Wash goes to reach for him, folding like he’d lost all his core stability. As he crumples, he falls forward, half onto Wash in front of him, half into the bed itself.

“Caboose,” Wash tries again. Caboose doesn’t move, sinking further into his side.

Wash sighs. Caboose stays, solid and heavy and thrown over his chest. He feels like a little kid again, sharing a room with his sisters, or he feels like it’s some time back in training, both cats making their home on his chest. Caboose was kind of like a cat. If a cat were a dog, were late to the punch, were the same level as unable to catch the joke as he was. It was kind of sweet. Wash shifts him ever so slightly, until he’s leaning into his side again, head against his shoulder.

Caboose yawns, sighing out against his shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable. Wash curls his arm over his back, hand cupping around his shoulder, smoothing his thumb over the seam of his shirt. Caboose makes a little noise, a little sigh, and falls quiet. The world, too, is warm and quiet. Somewhere in that warmth, a soothing feeling washes over him.

Just a little more sleep, he thinks. Then he’ll get up.