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loudstan · 4 months

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(67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was (PART 2.)

Summary: Chenle wasn't interested in committed relationships until he met the one. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to commit to him.

Pairing: Werewolf! Chenle x Siren! Female reader

Warnings: OOff where do I start. Things get dubious, and even a bit non-conish sometimes so do not read if that's not something you're into. A lot of mind games, manipulation, gaslighting, and all the red flags you can think of. Y/N is MEAN. Also, this is super long so i had to make two separate posts. Read both if you want to know how it started! SMUT.

(PART 2)

“Why’s Jisung crying?” Kun asked when he saw the youngest member of the pack trying to hide how glossy his eyes were a few days later.

“I’m not,” Jisung replied stubbornly, but the words came out broken.

“He watched (500) Days of Summer,” Renjun deadpanned.

“You watched–,” Kun burst out laughing. “It’s a romantic comedy! How did you end up crying?”

“It’s not romantic, nor funny,” Jisung disagreed.

Renjun sighed. “He’s worried about Chenle.”

“Oh…” Kun frowned. “Is he still hiding in his room?”

Renjun and Jisung nodded.

Kun sighed and hesitantly walked to Chenle’s room, knocking on the door and letting himself in when he heard a monotonous ‘come in’ from the other side.

“Hey, Lele…,” he greeted awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

Chenle was sprawling in bed, with dark circles under a pair of eyes stuck to the laptop screen.

“Hm,” he replied, without elaborating.

“What are you up to?” Kun asked casually, walking closer to take a look at the screen. “Oh…You’re watching that movie too…”

Chenle barely nodded. “I’ve watched it 6 times. Each time it becomes more obvious that they would never end up together. Funny, isn’t it?” his dull voice said.

“Lele, I’m so sorry,” Kun said sincerely. Not only for what happened to the younger werewolf, but also for even mentioning that stupid movie.

“It was gonna happen sooner or later,” Chenle closed his laptop and finally looked at the oldest. “She didn’t want me. Not the way I want her, at least.”

Kun looked at him sadly.

“Maybe I could make my own movie,” Chenle joked unenthusiastically. “The title would be (67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the older offered.

“Sure, you could convince her to take me back,” Chenle chuckled humorlessly. “Forget it, gege. There’s nothing anyone could do,” he said, before putting his laptop away and pulling the covers all the way up until they covered his head. “Can you close the door when you leave, please?”

“I…sure,” Kun murmured, walking out and closing the door quietly. He stood in the corridor for an entire minute as he considered his options. “Fuck it,” he murmured, for once not caring about his manners.

He went back to the living room where Jisung and Renjun were waiting expectantly. “Get up, you two,” Kun told them. “We’re going to the bar.”

“Yeosang, I’m fine,” you insisted after he begged you to go rest for the 5th time.

“ You haven’t seen your mate in a week, and you know that can affect your health. You shouldn’t abuse your body.”

“It’s almost time to close. There are like 5 people here. It can’t be that hard, ” you laughed.

“I can handle it for the last half of an hour,” he offered. “You haven’t been looking too good lately–”

“It’s getting better,” you lied before turning to the customer to take his order. “Hi! What can I get you?”

“Three glasses of Eternal Dusk, please,” a handsome man with a charming smile said, handing you his credit card.

“Right away,” you replied with a smile, scanning the card and handing it back to him before preparing the drinks skillfully and handing them to him.

He thanked you and took the drinks to the table where his friends were waiting for him. You thought you recognized one of them, but he quickly looked away, suddenly being very interested in the wall behind him. Over the course of the night, they kept stealing glances at you, quickly looking away and talking secretly in their tiny group. Eventually, the same guy who had ordered the drinks earlier approached the bar again.

“Another round?” you offered.

“Uh, actually–” he stopped mid-sentence with a wince and hesitantly grabbed a pendant that was hanging from a chain, tucked under his shirt. He inspected the relic suspiciously like it wasn’t his own.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

He looked at you and then back at the pendant, which he quickly hid back under his shirt. “Y-yeah sorry,” he smiled politely. “I was wondering–... you’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I–uh, I’m from the Scarlet Islands,” you disclosed. “Why?”

“Figures. Your beauty is…definitely not something you see in this town,” he said cheekily, looking at you like he had found out your biggest secret.

“Are you going to order something or not?” Yeosang interrupted the conversation, standing in between you and the customer.

The man smiled at Yeosang before shaking his head and waving goodbye. “I think we’re done for tonight,” he said, going to his table and hurrying his friends out of the bar.

“What a creep,” Yeosang said.

“Y-yeah,” you chuckled nervously and started cleaning up now that the last customers were gone.

“Heeey, Sangie,” Wooyoung greeted cheerfully approaching the bar. “Can I steal Y/N away for a little bit?”

Yeosang glared at Wooyoung suspiciously.

“It won’t be anything stupid, I promise,” Wooyung said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“I’ll be okay, Sangie,” you chuckled, walking away with Wooyoung when Yeosang finally nodded hesitantly.

Wooyoung guided you out of the ship, to the dock that connected it to land. It was late at night and the place was deserted. The only sound you could hear was the water splashing the wooden ship and the distant voices of the crew members coming from inside the ship.

When you looked at Wooyoung you were surprised to see him taking his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” you asked, astonished.

“I’m getting undressed,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

“I can see that. Why?”

“We’re going swimming!” he exclaimed, stepping out of his pants to present himself in front of you in his underwear. “Why are you just standing there? Do you need me to take your clothes off for you?” he asked suggestively.

“Woo, it’s late…” you tried to reason.

“I’ll push you. Don’t test me.”

You saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, I guess it won’t hurt to swim a little bit,” you said, undressing yourself until you were only wearing your bra and panties. The crew had seen you in a swimming suit before, so this was basically the same. And it was dark, so you weren’t worried about him seeing through the fabric once it got wet

You followed Wooyoung into the water and sighed at the feeling surrounding you.

“Feel good?” Wooyoung asked, apprehensively.

“Really good,” you admitted, surprised. Your body had felt heavy and ached for the last few days, but you were suddenly feeling so relieved.

“Seawater restores sirens’ vitality,” Wooyoung commented, very proud of himself. “I read about it.”

“Aaw, were you worried about me?” you teased.

He splashed water on your face as a response. You gasped and splashed him back, starting a childish battle that ended with him holding you tightly against his own body to prevent your attacks.

You were laughing brightly when you felt the soft presence of his lips on yours. It barely lasted a second, but it made all laughter stop.

Your confused eyes met Wooyoung’s untamed ones. He wasn’t laughing, nor did he seem embarrassed or regretful.

“Did that feel good too?” he asked. His voice was thick with implication.

You stared back at him, speechless.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a love confession,” he said, gently pushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “This is just me saying that I know you’re going through a hard time, and that your body isn’t taking it well. You’re tired, in pain, and so sensitive…” he trailed off.

You blushed. “Woo–”

“I know it’s someone else that you want,” he continued. “But I can help you forget, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“You don’t have to–”

“You think I get nothing out of it? You may not know this but I have a thing for sirens. I dated one, actually…but things didn’t end up well. I recently found out through Yeosang that she met someone knew,” he chuckled but his laugh sounded empty, hurt. “I should be happy for her. But I can’t bring myself to. Childish, huh?”

“It was you?!” you asked, astonished. “The friend Yeosang told me about–”

“She’s my ex,” Wooyoung confessed. “Well…if you could call that a relationship. We barely held hands or kissed. She was afraid if we…consummated, she would follow me wherever I went. That was smart of her; following a pirate around isn’t anyone’s dream life.”

“Woo…I’m so sorry,” you whispered sympathetically.

“You’re in no position to be sorry about someone else’s love life,” he laughed, earning a playful punch on the shoulder. “What I’m trying to say here is that none of us is with who we want to be, but we have each other…”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you hesitated.

“Isn’t it tiring to have to pleasure yourself?” he taunted, caressing your waist with intent and making you shiver, suddenly very aware of the proximity and nakedness of you both. “You can’t let the man you love make you cum, and I couldn’t make the woman I loved cum…” he murmured, moving his hands skillfully to give you goosebumps. “Wouldn’t it be poetic if we cum together?”

“The mental gymnastics to get to that conclusion are out of this world,” you joked.

“Y/N,” he groaned. “We’re both lonely and horny, and we’re stuck in a lifestyle that won’t let us have a stable relationship with anyone outside this damn ship. Is it really that crazy to propose we help each other out?”

You considered it for a second. He was making sense; you couldn’t be with Chenle if you wanted to continue your current lifestyle…but Wooyoung would always be there.

“Captain said no relationships within crew members,” you murmured, holding onto the last argument against this reckless idea.

“Captain doesn’t need to know,” he assured you, closing the distance between your lips and kissing you. You kissed him back, focusing on Wooyoung and trying to forget all about Chenle. Without knowing that you would see him sooner than expected.

“CHENLE!” Kun yelled, bursting into the depressed wolf’s room and yanking the covers away from his limp body. “YOU STUPID BOY!”

After getting over the initial shock, Chenle gave him an unamused glare. “We already established that. No need to yell,” he murmured, reaching for the cover again.

Kun took the cover from his hand and threw it on the floor. He then unclasped from around his neck a golden chain with a doubloon hanging from it and waved it in front of Chenle’s face. “Do you know what this is?”

“No,” deadpanned Chenle.

“It’s a siren detector,” he replied proudly.

“Why do you even have one of those?” Chenle asked, still uninterested.

“I got it from my time in the navy, of course. All sailors get one for safety.”

“Pff, you were not in the navy,” Chenle scoffed.

“Yes, I was? I sent you postcards?” Kun reminded him offendedly. “Whatever, that’s not the point. The point is we went to the bar where your mate works—“

“You did WHAT?!” Chenle asked outrageously.

“We were going to convince her to take you back,” Kun continued.

“Nooo,” Chenle groaned, mortified. “How did you even know which bar it was?”

“Jisung led the way,” Kun informed.

Chenle glared at Jisung who was standing awkwardly next to Renjun.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbled. “Didn’t want you to be sad…”

Chenle sighed. “You should have asked me— did you steal that glass?”

Jisung looked at the glass he was holding, still half full of alcohol. “We left in a hurry and I kinda panicked.”

“As I was saying,” Kun demanded everyone’s attention. “Whenever I got near your mate the detector started burning my skin. I asked her where she was from and she named an island that is located in the Forbidden Sea, which is where you can find the biggest population of merpeople.”

Chenle stared at him dumbly.

“You imprinted on a siren!” Kun exclaimed exasperatedly. “Well, probably a half-siren…she seems to be able to spend long periods of time on land.”

“…That’s ridiculous. I would have noticed if my mate had a fishtail.”

“I guess they don’t teach you guys anatomy in school anymore,” Kun said. “That’s a myth. Sirens look like any other human. Some historical jerk assumed they had tails because the lower part of their bodies often remained hidden under the water. They have legs just like us, and they sometimes come to land, but they need sea water to survive. My guess is Y/N gets easy access to the water by traveling with pirates.”

“But… it can’t be…”

“It makes perfect sense,” Renjun interjected. “Sirens are famous for their mind control. Think about it: isn’t it weird that you always agreed to everything she said?”

Again, Chenle glared at Jisung, who must have spilled the beans about that too.

“I don’t know, man,” he sighed tiredly. “Maybe I’m just a simp.”

“No but—“ Jisung spoke nervously. “That night when you met her you were so out of it. All you kept saying was that you didn’t want to mark her. Isn’t that weird?”

Chenke knitted his brows. It was kind of weird. “Maybe it was the fever.”

“Just try to remember,” Renjun insisted. “Did you ever have any disagreement that ended with you saying something out of character? Something that you didn’t understand why you were saying?”

Chenle froze. Every encounter with you had ended like that. Suddenly it all made sense.

Holy fuck. He had been played.

He groaned and pulled his hair. “So Y/N is a master manipulator. Why does it matter? She doesn’t want to see me.”

”That’s the weird part,” Kun says hurriedly. “I heard her speaking with the other bartender, saying something about not seeing her mate for a week. Your relationship,” he said that word making air quotes with his hands, “ended a week ago. So that has to be referring to you, right? That means she imprinted on you too. But if that’s really the case then she wouldn’t be able to stand being away from you after you guys slept together,” he ranted nonsensically.

Chenle wasn’t really following. He was still trying to process that he imprinted on a siren, and now Kun was saying that you probably imprinted on him too. He didn’t even know sirens imprinted.

“Maybe sexual relationships aren’t that important for her,” Renjun said, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Sex is a sacred ritual between siren mates,” Kun contradicted Renjun’s theory. “When a siren is brought to their climax by the one they imprinted on it’s game over. The bond is sealed for eternity. Seriously, guys, what are they teaching you in school?”

“Not how to mate with sirens, clearly,” Renjun replied sarcastically, making Jisung choke on his drink.

“Orgasms seal the bond…” Chenle mumbled, sitting up as he pieced together everything he heard. “Game over…”

“Exactly,” Kun said, excited that at least one of them was paying attention and learning from him. “But then she probably wasn’t talking about you when she mentioned a mate because she shouldn’t be able to live without you after two months of–”

“I didn’t make her cum,” Chenle admitted.

The room was silent.

“You mean– last time you were together?” Renjun offered.

“Ever,” Chenle deadpanned.

Jisung gasped. “You never told me that!” he accused.

“Yeah, thank god, or you would have told everyone!” Chenle rolled his eyes.

“I get nervous when interrogated!” Jisung defended himself.

“Chenle!” Kun shrieked. “Are you saying that in two months of being fuckbuddies,” he stressed, “ you didn’t make her cum once?!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Chenle replied.

“Right,” Renjun said sarcastically.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve to touch her!” Chenle huffed, incredulous at what he was learning. “Whenever she was about to cum she would stop me with that sickeningly sweet voice of hers–”

“The siren voice,” Kun nodded, starting to understand what was happening.

“And I would always end up doing as she said and–I don’t know I thought it was like a weird kink of hers, or that I really was that bad in bed,” Chenle groaned.

“She was stopping you from consummating the bond,” Renjun breathed out, catching up.

“Wait what?” Jisung asked.

“She imprinted on Chenle and she knew if he made her orgasm she would be bonding with him forever,” Kun explained. “She literally hypnotized him to make sure he never made her cum.”

“That’s a whole new level of commitment issues…” Jisung said incredulously. “And gaslighting,” he added, not believing that someone would go that far.

But Chenle didn’t doubt you would do all that and more to get what you wanted. You were literally insane.

“Fucking bitch,” he grunted, getting out of bed and exiting the room.

“Where are you going?” Jisung asked.

“Where do you think?!” Chenle yelled back.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Renjun warned, running after him, followed by Jisung and Kun.

“You either wait here or you come with, but you’re not stopping me,” Chenle grunted, opening the front door and walking out of the house in his pajamas.

The three werewolves exchanged worried looks before following Chenle to his car. Kun ended up driving because Chenle’s hands were shaking with rage, and the car was barely parked near the port when Chenle sprinted toward the imposing ship.

The bar was closed, and everyone was probably asleep, but Chenle didn’t give a damn. He was going to wake up the entire town if he had to.

But he didn’t have to, because he heard you.

It was distant and weak. You were giggling and whimpering, and at some point, he even thought he heard his name. But where–?

He almost tripped when he stepped on…pants? And there were other pieces of clothing too– Was that your top?!

“You okay?” asked an unfamiliar male voice.

“F-fine,” you croaked.

“That good, huh?” the stranger asked.

“Shut up,” you replied playfully.

The voices were getting closer and Chenle’s enhanced vision could see you swimming toward the dock…with a man.

“It must have been good,” the man insisted. “You were so out of it that you called me a totally different name.”

“Woo,” you whined, ashamed. “I’m sorry–”

He pecked your lips. “It’s fine,” he assured you with a smile, reaching for the wooden surface. “You’ll get it right next time–,” his sentence was interrupted when out of nowhere someone grabbed him and pulled him out of the water aggressively.

Your eyes widened in fear when you saw Chenle, manhandling Wooyoung with murderous intent. The pirate landed on his back on the dock with a loud thud and winced, but that was only the beginning of the pain Chenle had planned for him.

“C-chenle!” you shrieked, getting out of the water. “Chenle, stop!”

“I’ll deal with you later,” he growled at you, getting back to beating the shit out of the man who had dared to kiss you.

Desperately, you yelled at him to stop, tried to pull him away from Wooyoung, and finally screamed for help, hoping at least one of your crew members would hear you.

Luckily, Yunho came running out of the ship, closely followed by Mingi, who looked half-asleep. They quickly assessed the situation and charged in to separate the two men. San and Yeosang joined the scene right after, helping Wooyoung get up and trying to get him away from the threat.

“I’ll teach you not to touch what isn’t yours,” Chenle growled, breaking free from Yunho and Mingi’s grasp, but thankfully Kun, Renjun and a terrified Jisung stepped in, not letting him reach the poor man.

“Leave right now or I’ll call the police,” Seongwha spoke authoritatively, standing between his crew and the werewolves.

“Call the police then!” Chenle challenged petulantly. “See if I care. One of my pack is fucking a police officer so they can’t do shit to us–” he suddenly fell on the floor completely unconscious. Behind him, there was Jongho.

“I hit a pressure point so he’ll be asleep for a bit,” Jongho explained calmly. “Not for long though, so you should get him out of here fast.”

The three werewolves nodded quickly, and mumbled a thousand apologies while they grabbed his unconscious pack member and dragged him away.

Seungwha quickly instructed the crew to take Wooyoung inside and tend to his wounds before turning to you. “Y/N, Captain wants to see you.”

The crew turned to look at you, failing to mask the fear in their eyes. They knew that if the Captain asked you to go to his cabin, it meant you were in huge trouble.

You lowered your head and nodded obediently, grabbing your clothes and boarding the ship. You quickly dried your body and put on some clothes before walking to the Captain’s cabin with trembling legs.

“Come in,” he said before you could even knock.

The antique door opened with a quiet squeak.

Captain Hongjoong was standing by a small window while playfully tossing his spyglass from one hand to the other.

“Did you ask to see me?” you asked nervously.

“I did,” he hummed calmly. “Had fun with Wooyoung?”

Your blood ran cold. There was no way he could have found out this fast, could he?

He chuckled. “Come here, Y/N.”

You took hesitant steps toward him until you were face to face.

“Look outside” he instructed,positioning so you were looking out the window. “What do you see?”

You saw the dock where the fight had happened and if you moved a bit to the right you could see the exact spot where you and Wooyoung had been fooling around. Could he have seen–?

“Saw it all,” he purred next to your ear, answering your unvoiced question. “Can’t say I’m surprised. If someone was going to break that rule it was Wooyoung.”

“It wasn’t his fault–”

“Please,” Hongjoong laughed, sitting on a chair made out of a barrel. “You want me to believe that Wooyoung wasn’t the one who started this? I know my crew,” he said, gesturing at the chair in front of him for you to take a seat too.

“He was only trying to help,” you explained, sitting down.

“Yeah, because you broke up with rich boy, right? Maybe if you hadn’t used your siren voice on him things wouldn’t have ended like that.”

You gasped in surprise. He knew about that?!

He gasped too, mocking you. “Told you, Y/N. I know my crew,” he informed you, changing his tone to a more serious one. “Relationships within the crew are a rule that could be bent if necessary… but I strictly forbade you from bewitching people.”

“I–I know…”

“Wooyoung and you hooked up, alright, no problem. You’re both adults. But what you did to that man,” he said pointing at the window, “was take away his autonomy for your benefit.”

You nodded slowly, ashamed.

“I’ve been waiting to see if you would solve things on your own, but now one of my men is hurt. You did that,” he accused.

You winced. “I understand. I’ll pack my things,” you said.

Hongjoong frowned.“Why would you do that?”

“I broke the rules and I put the crew in danger. So I gotta leave, right?”

“That would be the easy way out,” he said sternly. “You can’t abandon people whenever you fail them.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“Not to me. To Chenle Zhong.”

Wow. He even knew his full name.

“I ended things with him,” you explained.

“But did you apologize?”

“He’ll move on and find someone better.”

“Did.you.apologize?”

You sighed in defeat. “...No.”

“Do it,” he commanded. “In person.”

You nodded right when someone knocked on the door softly.

“Come in,” Hongjoong said.

Seongwha walked in. “Wooyoung will be fine. Only a few bruises, but no broken bones.”

“Good,” Hongjoong sighed. “Tell him he’s grounded.”

“Of course,” Seongwha said, but shot you a worried look. “What about Y/N?”

“She has her own task to complete, isn’t that right?” he said, looking at you solemnly.

And that’s how you found yourself unblocking Chenle and texting him, asking him if you could meet. The message showed as read for hours until he finally replied setting a time and date.

He picked you up like he often did in the past, before shit hit the fan. At first you refused to get in the car.

“I’ll be quick,” you said.

“I won’t,” he countered angrily. “I have a lot to say, and you’re gonna listen. Get in.”

His voice left no room for disobedience, so you nervously got in the car. This time he drove in a totally different direction.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He didn’t reply. He remained silent even when the car stopped in front of a huge modern building, taking you into the elevator and, once again, pressing the button to go to the highest floor.

You were in awe when you entered a place as luxurious as the presidential suite, but more homelike. It was a spacious penthouse, with minimum decoration, like it had been recently purchased, with enormous windows that allowed you to see the ocean.

“I’m listening,” Chenle said dryly, standing in front of the window and watching the striking view.

You stood behind him, taking a deep breath in to brace yourself. “There’s something you must know,” you started saying.

He kept his eyes on the view, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m part siren. Sirens can control people’s minds with their voices…and I did that to you.”

He clenched his jaw but remained silent,

“Everytime you came too close I made you believe that you didn’t actually want that. I treated you like shit to keep you under control, but the truth was that I was afraid of what would happen if we went further. I’m sorry,” you finally said.

He turned around, glaring at you. “You’re sorry? Do you think you can use and humiliate someone repeatedly and then just say you’re sorry?”

You shook your head. “I know what I did was awful. That’s why I ended things; so you can forget about me and move on.”

“That’s your way of fixing things?” He laughed humorlessly. “Imagine someone broke your leg and then they put a fucking sticker on it, telling you to forget about it. Can you go run a marathon?”

“...That’s not the same–”

“That’s what it felt like to me,” he insisted. “You broke me every time you told me I didn’t deserve you. Everytime you made me say what we had wasn’t special. You don’t get to step on me like that and then tell me to move on.”

“I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“No. You’re doing what’s easier.”

“Chenle I–,” you sighed. “I’m leaving in three days. There’s nothing I can do for you at this point.”

He met your gaze with eyes that reflected a storm of emotions.

“There’s something,” he said firmly. “Kiss me.”

A shiver ran down your spine. There was nothing you would like more than to kiss him. “Wouldn’t that make things worse?” you asked apprehensive.

“The person I imprinted on used me for months and is leaving in 3 days. Things can’t possibly get worse for me,” Chenle deadpanned. He stared at your lips and took one of your hands tenderly. “Can you let me have just one moment with you that feels real? Without the lies and the mind games?”

You breathed out against his lips. “O-okay…”

Chenle’s lips were on yours, slow and hot. You felt like you were floating. It had been so long since the last time you were this close to him, you had forgotten how well his lips fit into yours, how gratifying his body felt against yours, how easily he could turn you on with his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You couldn’t remember why you turned down his touch in the past when it was clearly what you needed the most–even the body ache you had woken up with was subsiding thanks to his ministrations.

It was the little moan that escaped you what brought you back to reality by the time he had taken your shirt off and was kissing your chest while playing with the strap of your bra.

“Chenle,” you moaned when he unclasped your bra and attached his lips to your tits. “I t-think we should stop now–”

He ignored your concerns, sucking on your nipple languidly.

“Ooh– Chenle I’m serious,” you started to panic at how dangerously good you were starting to feel. With how sensitive you were since you imprinted on him and how much you had been craving for him it wouldn’t take long for you to climax…and that’s a luxury you couldn’t afford if you were to leave with the crew in a couple of days.

“Don’t be like that,” he cooed, unbuttoning your jeans. “You hardly ever allowed me to touch you during our encounters. You can’t expect me to be satisfied with just a kiss when this could be the last time I see you.”

“T-then how about I make y-you feel good instead?” you offered nervously, trying to pull his hands away from you, but he quickly slapped your hands away.

“I don’t think so. We did things your way many times already. It’s my turn to make you cum,” he declared, pulling your pants down hastily.

“NO! WAIT!” you shrieked, grabbing his hands with all your strength.

Chenle stared into your eyes intently. “There’s that terrified expression again,” he uttered. “It’s almost like you don’t want to cum. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” he taunted. “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me…”

You gulped.You indeed hadn’t told him you imprinted on him and what the consequences of an orgasm would be. “I…I just–That’s n-not why I came here–”

“What’s so terrifying about me making you cum, hmm?” he inquired darkly, like he already knew the answer, cornering you against the window glass. “If you don’t give me a good reason I won’t stop.”

You couldn’t tell him, because if you did then you were 100% sure he wouldn’t stop. You didn’t want to do this again, but you didn’t see any other way out right now.

“Pup, listen to me–” you spoke sweetly but he clasped his hand on your mouth firmly.

“No, you won’t,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You apologize for bewitching me, but you try to do it again the second things don’t go as you planned?” he asked incredulously.

You squirmed but he didn't budge.

Chenle hummed, placing his free hand on the front of your neck and tracing his fingers over your throat, drawing what felt like random figures. “What a shame. That was your last chance.”

You gasped for air when he finally uncovered your mouth, but when you tried to speak again no words came out.

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth again, but even though you were saying words, they didn’t materialize into sounds.

You looked at Chenle in shock, and he smirked back at you.

“It’s not nice, huh? Not being able to say what you want,” he asked rhetorically.

‘What did you do?!’ you tried to ask, but of course once again nothing came out of your mouth.

Chenle understood your voiceless question though and he chuckled. “Here goes my first confession: I found out about what you were a few days ago. I’ve been thinking of ways to stop you from using that voice on me since then. At first I thought about choking you, but I was so fucking mad at you I was afraid I would end up breaking your neck, so I learned how to cast this little spell on your vocal chords.”

Your eyes widened, remembering how you thought that he was just caressing your neck seconds ago.

“I also know you imprinted on me,” he continued speaking, caressing your face. “And I know what will happen if I make you cum so, naturally, I will make it happen.”

Your instinct kicked in and you pushed him, trying to get away as fast as you could, but he quickly caught you and turned you around, pushing you against the window glass with him hugging you from behind. You shivered when the cold material made contact with your bare chest, and the beautiful city view reminded you of how embarrassingly exposed you were.

Chenle’s hand had already found its way into your panties, and he was pleasuring you skillfully and fast, with only one objective in mind.

“Here goes my second confession: I regret not killing that friend of yours,” he whispered next to your ear, while two of his fingers were buried inside of you. “Can’t believe you let him have you like this before me. It drove me mad to find out what you sound like when you’re cumming while in another man’s arms. But what made me even more furious was that you moaned my name. How fucking shameless can you be?”

You wanted to dig a hole and hide in it forever, but first you needed to run away.

He clicked his tongue when you kicked your leg back aimlessly trying to get him off you. “You’re being so rude when I’m making you feel so good you’re dripping down my hand?” He asked, adding a third finger and making you tighten around him.

You shook your head and tried to look at him over your shoulder, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, stilling his fingers inside of you.

You nodded promptly.

He sighed. “I guess I should respect your wishes just like you respected mine–Oh, right,” he pretended to suddenly remember something important. “You didn’t,” he concluded, fucking his fingers into you fast and hard.

You would have screamed if you could. You were so close and it was both marvelous and horrifying. If you gave in it would change your life forever, so you tried to even your breath and will yourself to think of something else.

“Would you look at that?” Chenle taunted. “I can see your ship from here…It’s a shame they’re too far to see how much of an obedient girl you’re being for me, taking my fingers so well, about to give yourself to me completely.”

You did not want anyone to see you like this, but you tried to remind yourself that this penthouse was on the highest floor in an exclusive neighborhood. Surely no one could see you.

“Mm…should I bite you before or after I get you off?” Chenle asked, placing a wet kiss on your neck.

You squirmed helplessly. At this point you knew you wouldn’t break free, and that your efforts were in vain, but you were too stubborn to accept your fate.

“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, abusing that spot that had you rolling your eyes while using his other hand to rub your clit roughly. “Give it to me now.”

Your ears rang and the city lights in front of you became blurry. You felt like the world was spinning around you while the tingly feeling that sometimes you experienced in your fingertips expanded through your body.

‘Chenle, Chenle, Chenle’ was the only thought in your mind. His firm hands on your body, his warm respiration on your neck, his expensive cologne invading your nostrils, his luscious voice murmuring words you couldn’t comprehend right now–he was everywhere. The feeling was so overwhelming, unlike any orgasm any man had ever given you before. There was no way back now. You were–

“All mine,” Chenle chuckled, removing his hands from your underwear and placing one of them on your throat to remove the spell. “Was that really so bad?” he asked, turning you around to face him.

You glared at him. “Y-you–,” you coughed and spoke shakily, still riding the neverending aftershoks of your orgasm. “Do you k-know what you just d-did?!”

“I’m fully aware,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I won’t be able to leave, you asshole!” you yelled at him as tears started forming in your eyes. “You ruined my life!”

The hand that was on your neck squeezed your throat.

“Like I said, I know what I did. That’s why I did it,” he grunted. “And just for your information, I only reversed the spell to hear you moan. Not for you to get bratty and annoying, so if you try to bewitch me or yell at me one more time you won’t be speaking until the end of my rut.”

You paled. “Y-your rut?!” you choked out.

“Third confession,” Chenle whispered against your lips. “I chose this night to meet because my rut is scheduled to start anytime soon. And you’re gonna help me through it.”

You kicked his leg just out of pettiness. You knew it probably didn’t hurt much and it wouldn’t get you out of this predicament, but you didn’t know how else to voice your anger.

He gave you an unamused look. “That’s it,” he growled, lifting you in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder unceremoniously. You squirmed, kicked, and hit whatever part of him you could reach but it only seemed to add to the punishment that was coming.

He opened the door to a bedroom, which was also surrounded by wide windows. Like the living room, it wasn’t fully furnished or decorated, but there was a king size bed in the middle and a nightstand, which was all that Chenle needed right now.

He sat on the bed and manhandled you so you were lying on your belly on his lap, and before you had the chance to ask anything or complain you felt a sharp pain on your ass.

“You’re going to behave,” he guaranteed, landing another slap that made you gasp. “Even if I have to force you to.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. If he had reversed the spell because he wanted to hear you moan then you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing a single sound from you.

After spanking you a couple more times he noticed what you were trying to pull.

“Really?” he asked, giving you a particularly hard smack that almost made you give in. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured.

He moved you onto the bed, removed your panties hastily and positioned you so your legs were hanging off the bed while still on your belly. You turned your head around suspiciously but you didn’t see him. You were going to sit up when you felt a pair of firm hands gripping your asscheeks and something warm and wet grazing your inner labia.

You yelped and Chenle chuckled against your center before diving in.

It had been a long time since someone ate you out from behind; usually you were the one in charge, so being in such a compromising position was humiliating yet he was making you feel so good…

No. You couldn’t let him know you were enjoying this. You bit your lip and grasped onto the bed sheets desperately.

His tongue slid inside of you and he landed another slap on your ass, feeling you clench around the wet muscle. He pulled away for a second to say some cheeky comment, but a malicious kick almost landed on his face.

Furiously, he stood up and climbed on the bed, grabbing you as you were crawling away and forcing you to turn around to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” he growled.

“Fuck you!” you hissed in response.

“Fucking brat,” he spat, unbuckling his belt and straddling you. “After all you’ve done you think you have the right to be angry?”

“Oh and you’re any better?” you asked indignantly. “You forced an orgasm out of me even though you knew what that implied–”

“Agreed,” he conceded, unbuttoning his pants. “We’re both terrible people and now we’re stuck together, so you might as well get used to it–”

“I may be bonded to you but you don’t own me! I’m sure Yeosang can help me find a way to undo this–Hhmp!” your ranting was interrupted by Chenle grabbing your jaw firmly and shoving his cock in your mouth, absolutely not in the mood to listen anymore.

“Mm, yeah that’s better,” he hummed, thrusting the head of his cock in and out slowly. “Such a beautiful voice but all that comes out of your mouth is poisonous.”

You tried to complain, but the vibrations only pleased Chenle even more.

“Yeah, go on, princess,” he encouraged you mockingly, sinking some more of his length into your mouth.

You shot him a dirty look and hollowed your cheeks to give a hard suck, tasting the salty liquid that the tip oozed.

He moaned and his body bent in pleasure. “Oh yeah?” he sneered, pulling out slightly to thrust back in. “Do your worst, princess, fuck–”

“Hmm,” you moaned around him, stretching your lips and straining your neck to bob your head.

Chenle felt like his head was spinning. You had pleasured him with your mouth before, but this was different. He had never had so much power over you. It made him feel euphoric. He placed his hands on your head to keep you in place, pulling your hair unintentionally. His mouth hung slack and he fucked your mouth rhythmically.

It took you choking when his cock hit the back of your throat for him to cum in your mouth with a guttural moan, trapping your head between his pelvis and the mattress until you drank every single drop.

With a jaded sigh, he climbed off your chest to start going lower, kissing every corner of your body on the way until he positioned himself with his face between your legs to continue what he had started.

You let out a broken moan when he captured your clit with his mouth and sucked insistently.

Your legs kicked his back and you pulled his hair angrily but you couldn’t refrain from moaning, much to his delight. He sucked, and sucked until the stimulation was painful, and almost wished he moved his mouth somewhere else but he was suctioning your clit with obsessive intent, wanting it to feel so good it hurt, wanting to break you.

He alternated between flattening his tongue against you while shaking his head and going back to harsh sucking until your stomach contorts and your mind goes blank, making your legs shake in pleasure.

…Except he doesn’t stop.

It was the first time he had you cum in his mouth and now he was captivated. He wished you had let him do this sooner. How dare you keep this away from him all this time?!

“Do it again,” he grumbled against your core between sloppy licks.

“Are y-haa…are you insane?!” you whined, trying to push him away.

He looked up at you with reddened eyes and growled, slapping your inner thigh.

“I said,” he spoke roughly. “Do it again,” he commanded, getting back to work.

This time he was all over the place, licking and slurping every drop of your release and making you shriek in pleasure and embarrassment. He wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. This belonged to him. You belonged to him. And he would take it as many times as he wanted.

You trembled when he once again focused your clit, like it was his new favorite toy, and circled it with his tongue going clockwise and then counterclockwise, and then flicking it barely with the tip of his tongue.

You whined and the death grip you had on his hair to push him away ended up pushing his head closer to your center.

He moaned appreciatively and let you fuck his face until he heard you gasp brokenly, so he sucked hard, bringing you to yet another orgasm.

Your body relaxed on the bed while he cleaned you up with his tongue languidly, making you wince and convulse sporadically.

Once he finally licked all he could find, he climbed back up so he was face to face with you.

“I hate you,” you croaked.

“Yeah?” he purred, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “I don’t think you do…And even if you did, that’s too bad, because I’m obsessed with you,” he concluded, diving in for another kiss.

He was right, you didn’t hate him. You were just mad, and scared, but you loved his lips on yours, and the way his body rocked against yours, and his hard cock pushing against your entrance–

“Ah–haaa, fuck–Chenle!” you moaned loudly when he pushed in slowly, stretching you out delightfully.

He swallowed your moans with his kisses, between hushed praises for taking him so well.

“My pretty princess…” he breathed out once he bottomed up completely. He grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it up and outwards before rolling his hips experimentally. He starts very slowly, allowing you to feel every vein of his cock dragging against your inner walls and you have no words to describe how good it feels.

His eyes lit up when he hit a spot that made you arch your back, aiming to hit it harder.

“What happened to that fierce attitude?” he teased when you let out a strangled moan.

You only looked at him with wide eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders clumsily without knowing what to do with yourself. Having him inside of you after having consummated the bond made everything feel 10 times more intense. There was nothing you could possibly say to express how good it felt to have your mate’s cock kissing your cervix so divinely.

“Poor Y/N,” Chenle spoke condescendingly, using his thumb to wipe some drool off the corner of your mouth. “Cock so good you can’t speak?”

You try to think of a comeback. You really do, but how could you when he was filling you all the way up and hitting all the right places–at the same time?

He chuckled darkly, snapping his hips hard once, twice and then building up a steady rhythm that had you screaming like he always wanted you to.

“Oh g-god…” was the first coherent sentence you said, throwing your head back.

“That’s my princess,” he praised, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Submitting for her mate–haa…,” he moaned as he nosed along your neck, looking for the right spot to leave his mark.

“C-chenle–” you whined, feeling yourself getting closer the more his pelvis grinded against your clit.

He sank his teeth into your skin and you felt that white pleasure consume you again, making you cum with a silent scream and your legs shake around Chenle’s waist.

He winced when you contracted around his cock, murmuring nonsense about how tight and perfect you were for him while licking the fresh wound on your neck.

You were shaking like a leaf, whispering his name like it was the only thing you knew and he just didn’t stop.

“Fuck! P-please!” you cried out when he pressed his hips against yours harshly and moved them in a circular way before resuming his unrelenting assault.

You didn’t think you could take any more so you tried to push him away weakly, but he pinned you down by your wrists.

Both of you knew you weren’t actually trying to rebel anymore, but his wolf loved to show off his strength, making you submit. He had wanted to dominate you the moment he met you, but his rut had turned that want into a need.

“C-can’t,” you sobbed, but the more you squirmed, the harder he fucked you.

“You’re g-gonna take it,” he grunted, squeezing your wrists and thrusting fast enough to make you see stars.

Tears slid down your face but you nodded obediently and that sent Chenle into a frenzy. He let go of your wrists to grab onto your waist, sitting up and ramming into you at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Aah…Haa, fuck, Y/N–my obedient little mate, yeah…” he moaned.

You whined at the praise, letting him fuck every coherent thought out of your head.

“All you have t-to do is take it,” he spoke with slurred words as he impaled you into his cock like a ragdoll. “Let me have you like this,” he emphasized the last word with a hard thrust. “Let me m-make you feel good mm…”

You nodded dumbly while he pounded you on the bed.

“Look this pretty–oh fuck, so pretty for me,” he sounded strained, and his movements were haltering. “Let me g-give you anything you could…oooh anything y-you could possibly want,” he was getting desperate, feeling his knot starting to form was pushing him over the edge. “L-let me…,” he gulped, forcing his knot into you and making you scream. “Oooh Y/N, fuuuck–”

You couldn’t breathe. It was too much. He was too deep, and he was trying to pull you impossibly closer as his cock throbbed inside of you and he finally came with a shaky sigh, shooting endless spurts of cum inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back as he convulsed on top of you, once again pinning your wrists just for show, to remind you he was in charge.

Once both of you came down from your high, Chenle took in the view and beamed with pride.

You were sprawled out on your back, with his mark on your neck, fucked dumb, submissive, completely overstimulated, impaled on his cock, and full of what soon would be his pups.

This was what he would wake up to everyday, in this very apartment he had bought for both of you.

Meanwhile, on the ship, Captain Hongjoong put his spyglass down and walked away from the window, letting out an impressed whistle.

“Seongwha, make preparations for a farewell party,” he requested, sitting on his chair and putting his feet on the table. “Looks like Y/N’s staying in this town.”

“You’re so mean,” Seongwha replied, unimpressed. “You knew this would happen when you sent her to speak with him.”

“She’ll thank me one day,” Hongjoong assured him, winking playfully.

#chenle #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #chenle x reader #chenle smut #chenle scenarios #chenle nct

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astridthevalkyrie · 1 year

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honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you.

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today.

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively.

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon.

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good.

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs.

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene).

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest.

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest.

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party.

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.”

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him).

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him.

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office.

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders.

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning.

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop.

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin.

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in.

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes.

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer.

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky?

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork.

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife.

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him.

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed.

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys.

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely.

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?”

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work.

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason.

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed.

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door.

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence.

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him.

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did.

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over?

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people.

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center.

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay.

I’m right here, I’m here for you.

You have me forever.

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say.

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze.

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes.

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that.

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant.

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more.

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to.

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

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suzukiblu · 2 months

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WIP excerpt for Derpsheep; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Does Superboy still think you’re actually an actual cryptid city spirit thing?” Steph says, staring incredulously at him. “Did he think that when he made you the diamond? The heart-shaped diamond?”

“. . . uh,” Robin says, still wincing. “He kind of just . . . showed up with it? Like. We never, uh, actually met before that? But uh, he knows the Bats kind of . . . stalk people, sort of, so I think he thinks it’s like our love language or something, so, uh, he was doing that? Apparently? And then he stopped Catwoman from robbing a museum and dropped her off on me and, uh. Had the diamond. And, uh. Gave it to me.”

Steph stares at him a lot more incredulously. Then she grips his arm so she can shake him, just a little. Or a lot.

She maybe nearly knocks over their froyo, but not the point, okay?

“Robin, is Superboy a monsterfucker,” she demands. “Robin, you have to tell me if Superboy’s a monsterfucker. You can’t not tell me if Superboy’s a monsterfucker!”

“I don’t know!” Robin hisses at her, sounding mortified. “I mean, maybe?! But like, considering some of the people who Cadmus has made and employed over the years and the fact Supergirl is literally protoplasmic goop with a personality and he’s half-alien, I don’t actually know how to judge that, okay? Maybe he just doesn’t automatically expect people to look human, I don’t know! He looked right at the Batman while he wasn’t bothering to pretend to have bones and didn’t even get weirded out or anything! And he made me a diamond specifically because he figured birds like shiny things and he offered to make me a nest when he found out I sucked at it and he caught Nightwing and called him ‘ma’am’ when Nightwing told him he was a ‘ma’am’ and he stalked me because he thought I’d like it! And like, I managed to convince the Batman that he’s not a new Robin but I think now he maybe thinks he’s a stray cat or something? He called him a kitten. And like, scritched him. And Superboy didn’t even get weirded out by that!”

“Oh my god, what is your life,” Steph marvels, putting a hand over her mouth as she grins in disbelief. This is the funniest friggin’ comedy of bullshit errors that she has ever even heard of. “You and the monsterfucker teen idol superhero you pulled by being a creepy little fake cryptid weirdo. When I’m your best woman at whatever freaky alien/cryptid-themed wedding you have, I’m telling this story in my toast. Fuck that, I’m telling the tabloids.”

“Please do not,” Robin groans, hiding inside his wings again. “Look, he’s really–he’s nice, okay? He just has no idea what normal people are like and he’s also, like, trying to deduce what city spirit bird cryptids would think was, I don’t know, romantic specifically so he can hit on me and it’s just–it’s a lot, okay?! It’s just a lot!”

#timkon #tim drake #stephanie brown #dc robin #dc spoiler #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic #derpsheep

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pursuitseternal · 11 months

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Masterlist: a collection of Spawn and Ascended Astarion fics, drabbles, and AU’s

Tolkien (Sauron, Annatar) Masterlist

Link on Ao3

EtL Gur!Tav x Astarion—Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more, Gue by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 |

Ao3 link | Tumblr fic Index

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader

“I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

series link on AO3

Series of scenes from Acts 1 and 2 of Spawn Rogue Astarion x Female Reader.

✨Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…” [the SFW flirty bite one]

✨Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…” [the NSFW sexy fingering one]

✨Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my dear…” [the NSFW sexy daggers one]

✨Part 4: “Let me have that sweet ambrosia, my love…” [the NSFW vampire feeding frenzy, period sex one]

✨Part 5: “All vim and vigor, dearest…” [the NSFW healing trope one]

✨Part 6: “Maybe we should fight more often…” [Lovers Spat and Make Up Sex one]

✨Part 7: “You had better tie me up, darling…” [fuck or die Sex Pollen one]

✨Part 8: “Anything to reassure you, my sweetest…” [jealous tav needs nsfw convincing]

✨Part 9: “Dexterity check first, my sweet” [my homage to his hands, and an excuse to use Sharess’ Caress]

✨Part 10: “To things that warm us!” [drunken toasts and public cockwarming]

✨ Part 11: “Use Your Words” [prompt full au: lovers run]

✨ Part 12: “Decadent” [Valentines Day sex chocolates, semi-public sex]

✨Part 13: “You’ll end up bitten” [the werewolf smut, knotting one]

✨ Part 14: “Don’t hold your breath” [underwater oral hot spring surprise]

✨ Part 15: “Knowledge is a dangerous weapon” [bookworm Tav, Spawn powers, breeding (no babies) kink]

✨ Part 16: “Your body’s already given you away” sharing body heat, caught in a storm

✨Part 17: “You make me want to live:” BG3 anniversary smut based on the song

✨ Part 18: “I wanted to hear you whimper:” Brat taming the Vampire

Yuletide in Faerûn Part 1: A Yuletide Miracle (Spawn)

link to fic on AO3

Scenes of Ascended Astarion x Female Reader, realizing that all the power in the world can’t instantly heal all his trauma. It takes love, sex, and making him remember the Vampire Rogue he once was. All chapters are NSFW.

🩸Chapter 1: Welcome Me

🩸Chapter 2: Cleanse Me

🩸Chapter 3: Surprise Me

🩸Chapter 4: Hold Me

🩸Chapter 5: Master Me

🩸 Chapter 6: Warm Me

🩸Chapter 7: Persuade Me

🩸Chapter 8: Scald Me

🩸 Chapter 9: Rescue Me

🩸Chapter 10: Unmask Me

🩸Chapter 11: Seek Me

🩸 Chapter 12: Treat Me

🩸 Chapter 13: Release Me

🩸Chapter 14: Use Me

🩸 Chapter 15: Choke Me

🩸 Chapter 16: Reprimand Me

🩸 Chapter 17: Vex Me

Yultide in Faerûn Part 2: Wrap Me Up (Ascended) 🎀

link to fic on AO3

🗡️Enemies to Lovers | Astarion x Named Tav

💞🗡️He can’t remember anything, but she does. The betrothed she believed dead, the source of all her centuries of grief and heartache now in the middle of her path after the Nautiloid crash, but something is different about him. Dark. Changed. Something hidden.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10| Chapter 11| Chapter 12

Chapter 13| Chapter 14| Chapter 15

Chapter 16| Chapter 17| Chapter 18

Chapter 19| Chapter 20| Chapter 21

Chapter 22| Chapter 23| Chapter 24

Summary: A favor once given to ensure Ascension is finally owed in turn: Raphael arrives from Avernus. With the thrill of another battle on the horizon, Astarion and his Raven prepare for fires and blood. Lust and bloodlust aren’t quite so diffent

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

🩸Ascended Astarion x Selûnite Shadowheart🌙

Caught sneaking on the walls of the Crimson Palace, Shadowheart wakes in the dungeons, deep in the Monster’s lair, the keep of her former companion and current tormentor, Lord Astarion. BDSM kink fic with a happy ending.

Ao3 link | Fic tumblr Index

Lumina is different, newly turned, and she has turned the head of the Master, the Vampire Ascendant. For the first time in 200 years, his beating heart might just feel something again.

CW: darker turns to softer AA, Harem of Spawn, No Tav, OC reminds AA of his past, “she’s special,” some jealousy, manipulative sexy AA, angst with a happy ending

Ao3 link | tumblr Fic Index (all chs)

🩸🗡️Ascended Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

✨🗡️ Spawn Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

Fanart by @marimosalad, @nyx-knox @snowfolly and @dafna-winchester

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 year

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Jungkook fic recs 2023

In honor of Jungkook’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Jungkook fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (💜)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂.

⭐Two point Five: pt1, pt2, pt3 [series] by @bratkook // jjk x f.reader // handyman!jk, s2f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. Right?

🗨️ This is also one of my all time favorites! 💎There is just something incredibly hot about handyman JK 🥵 It is so good, juicy, smutty and there’s comedy in it too! Please don’t be sleeping on this one.

⭐Caught Me by @jeongi // jjk x f.reader // roommate!au, e2l // 🥵😂

📝 You hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

🗨️ This is a fucking MASTERPIECE 💖 I love the banter and comedy, how JK gets on readers nerves 😂 I love absolutely every fucking thing about this and don’t get me started on the smut 🔥🔥 🔥

⭐The Forgotten Spaces [completed series] by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // college!au, dancer!au + e2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You’ve been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

🗨️ This is truly a masterpiece! The writing is perfection and the characters have so much soul, dimension, hurt and love. It is exceptional 👏🏾♥️ you just have to read this gem 💎

⭐McD*ckin by @jinned // jjk x f.reader // slice of life, fast food worker!jk, customer!reader, s2l // 🥵😂

📝 “So, if I’m so predictable,” you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, “what am I going to do next?”

🗨️ I’d like to order a McChicken please 🙋🏾‍♀️🥵💦 this was funny, and actually made me laugh like a freak at some points 🤣 also the second hand embarrassment 😳🙈 It really cheered me up. I really liked the ordering menu when reader arrived 🙈🤭 also the ending, which was unexpected for me, but I quite liked it because it wasn’t “super happy and lovey dovey” like most of the stories I read, but still open 😊

⭐The Wedding Planners by @gukyi // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 Jeon Jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. Then your best friend Hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly Jeon Jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. And then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

⭐In the Dark by @jksangelic // jjk x pjm x f.reader // threesome, f2l, mxm // 🥵😂

📝 “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

⭐Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates 💯 by @ot7always // jjk x f.reader // college!au, roommates!au // 🥰🥵

📝 What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

⭐Anpanman by @honeymoonjin // jjk x f.reader // bf2l // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

⭐The Boy with Galaxies in His Eyes by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // idol!au + fwb2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

🗨️ It is a long one, but damn is it worth it! It will take you for the very best rollercoaster ride of your life. So if you haven’t read this yet, what are you honestly doing with your life?

Borahae and happy birthday Kookie 💜 🥳 🎂

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

don’t want to walk alone | carmen ‘carmy' berzatto | chapter three: september

summary: the moment we've all be waiting for: you and carmy get married.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 7.1k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist. there is SO much music in this chapter, so per the playlist, it starts with 'it takes two' and ends with 'love story.'

a/n: ok so this chapter was a behemoth to write and i am in fact in love with it. it's taken me days, really weeks, to get what i wanted out of it and i still feel like i could've gone deeper. however, i'm also kind of just happy to have this out in the world and give these two the wedding they wanted me to give them. each moment was curated and thought out, down to the music selection so this chapter is really just a product of me stewing on this idea for quite a bit of time. this is a part of my make my heart surrender universe so check out the masterlist if you haven't read the series! next up? their long weekend at the langham where we really get carmy x reader and moments for just them. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part two | masterlist | part four

“It takes two to make a thing go riiiiight.”

You never pictured the night before your wedding like this, you think to yourself, as you listen to Fak sing, to the best of his ability in a somewhat-decent falsetto, along to the 90s hip hop classic.

Hell, you’re not sure you really ever pictured your wedding, but as you sit, surrounded by the people you love, you can’t see it going any other way than this. You watch as Richie rallies up as many people as he can for shots of Mallort, recounting that infamous morning at Ceres – a story he’s told over and over again, yet still manages to tell as animated and boisterously as the first time you heard it.

You groan as you watch Richie successfully convince Gary to take a shot with him, Gary’s face twisting into a look of disgust in response to the foul taste of the Chicago liquor, as Sugar reminds him that he should know better by now.

Carmy gives your knee a squeeze while simultaneously brushing off Richie’s attempt at shoving a shot in his direction. You laugh, a warm feeling filling you to the brim (could be the beer, could be being surrounded by your people), while Sydney jumps right into her best Rob Base impression.

It just so happens that your continuously put-off ‘let’s shoot for next month’ karaoke plans with a few staff members from The Bear coincided with plans to go out with friends before the wedding, which is how you’ve found yourself here.

After a lovely dinner at The Bear, your parents went back to the hotel for the night, insisting that you two go and have your fun. And as much as you would’ve loved to have brought your mother-who-has-a-doctorate-in-music-theory to karaoke night, she much preferred a good night’s sleep.

The crowded bar claps enthusiastically as Fak and Sydney wrap up their song, finishing their truly-made-up-only-for-comedy dance moves. You giggle, exchanging another glance with Carmy, as your friends take their bows, before shuffling off of the stage.

You hear the loud boom of the emcee’s voice through the microphone as he says:

“And up next we got… Tina!”

“Let’s go, T!” you shout through hands crowded around your mouth, in an effort to increase your volume of sound.

Carmy cheers, clapping his hands together as Richie enthusiastically chants Tina’s name while Tina makes her way to the stage.

“This is gonna be good,” Sugar nudges you, from where you are, seated in between the Berzatto siblings.

You nod your head in agreement before settling in a little closer to Carmy.

“The queen, herself,” Sydney remarks, gesturing towards the stage as she and Fak both return to your table. Sydney pulls up a chair next to where you and Carmy sit while Fak joins Richie on the other side of it. “And the ONLY act that could follow our exceptional performance.”

“Well, exactly,” you agree, playfully.

You exchange a laugh with Syd, while Carmy playfully rolls his eyes at the two of you.

The crowded bar room goes quiet as soon as Tina reaches the stage, smiling nervously as she grabs the mic.

“This one goes out to our favorite Jeffrey. And his lady Jeff,” she begins, earning a round of cheers and hollers from the group you’re with. Tina blows a kiss you and Carmy’s way, before nodding at the emcee to begin.

“I love you guys.”

You hear the beginning notes of the iconic Etta James tune, gasping in anticipation of her song:

“at last my love has come along my lonely days are over and life is like a song.”

You sigh in admiration, a hand over your heart as Tina continues to sing. Her voice is powerful, soulful – perfect for the song, really – as she continues into the second verse.

“at last the skies above are blue my heart was wrapped up in clover the night I looked at you.”

This time, it’s Carmy who steals a glance your way, his mind taken back to that fateful night at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, when he spilled his drink on you so many years ago. You’re entranced, enchanted, with Tina’s performance, and he thinks to himself, that maybe this is the best it’s ever going to get: being here with you, getting to love you, on the cusp of promising you ‘forever’ tomorrow.

Never had he expected that you’d make it this far. You’d always been so much cooler than him – well-liked, talented, funny – in and out of the kitchen, that he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to talk to you without vomiting all over your shoes out of nerves.

He can remember that night so vividly: standing there in the restroom of the bar he can barely remember the name of, while you stood across from him with the kind of glare on your face he swore could kill him. But you didn’t, and after many attempts to push you away, you asked him to be your friend, deeming it the day that started it all – a friendship that would teeter the line of friendship and something more, one that would bloom into the greatest love he’s ever known. As much as he hates to give Nate fucking Walker any kind of credit, he’ll the be first in line to say he’s glad the jagoff pushed him into you, setting it all in motion.

You can see that Carmy’s become distracted, lost in thought as the song finishes, something behind your favorite pair of blue eyes as the entire bar ignites into a huge round of celebratory claps for Tina’s performance.

You look up over at him, setting your beer bottle down on the table before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I can hear you thinkin’ over there, Berzatto,” you tease him quietly, pulling him from his trip down memory lane. “It’s only the night before the biggest day of your life. Relax.”

Carmy rolls his eyes playfully in response, but before he can properly respond to your jab, the emcee has begun introducing the next karaoke singers to the stage.

“Alright. Looks like I’ve got uh… three singers here this time,” the emcee says, his voice cutting sharply through the crowd of remaining cheers. “Let’s welcome Sydney back to the stage with… Sugar and… the bride to be!”

“What!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide with surprise as Sydney jumps to her feet.

“But I didn’t-,” you begin to protest, as Sugar pulls you to your feet, tugging on your arm.

“Oh there’s no way in hell we’re letting you sit this one out,” Sugar orders you, as Sydney rushes to your side, ushering you towards the stage.

“Yeah this was your idea!” Sydney simultaneously reminds you.

“Babe! Help!” you call out to Carmy, only to be met with a shrug and a look that says ‘don’t think I could if I tried.’

“Oh, he’s in on this,” Sydney adds, which does explain why he didn’t even attempt to help you when your friends began dragging you out of your chair. “So don’t even think about asking him for help.”

“Wh-? But I don’t even know what we’re singing!” you continue to protest, looking from Sugar to Sydney as they push you onto the stage with them.

“Trust,” Sydney reassures you, her face serious, while Nat slides a sash over you (one you’ve refused to wear all night) that has the word, ‘BRIDE’ printed over it in huge gold lettering. You groan, sending a glare in Nat’s direction, even though you know it’s all in good fun.

You hear Richie shout, while Fak and Marcus clap loudly, and Carmy laughs, shouting words of encouragement your way.

You know there’s no use in putting up a fight, especially since this was your idea anyways, as you begrudgingly take one of the three wireless mics. Before you can ask once more, what the hell Syd and Nat signed the three of you up to sing, a distinct slide of piano keys comes in, lighting up the karaoke screen in front of you.

You grin immediately, in recognition, and to your two best friend’s delight, as they smile too, raising the mics to your lips to sing:

“friday night and the lights are low looking out for a place to go where they play the right music getting in the swing you come to look for a king.”

You laugh as your friends point towards Carmy on the last line. The three of you continue to sing the next part with reckless abandon, and all is forgiven.

You could care less about how the three of them conspired against you to get you up here. All that matters now is that you’re here, singing one of your favorite songs with your best friends, grooving and dancing to the ABBA classic, as you prepare to marry your best friend.

“you can dance you can jive having the time of your life ooh, see that girl watch that scene digging the dancing queen.”

"what good is love without any strings?" dayglow, 'close to me'

“Baby.”

Carmy groans in response, as soon as he hears the low hum of your voice.

“Good morning,” you say, a soft smile on your face as you watch him begin to blink his eyes open.

Carmy turns his head towards you, and he can’t believe he gets to wake up to this – to you – every single day.

“Hey,” he says back, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Good Morning, sweetheart.”

“Guess what?” you ask him with the kind of glee and anticipation as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hmm?” he hums, as you smooth a hand over his chest, your body pressed against his side as you look at your soon-to-be husband.

“We’re getting married today,” you grin, a giddiness that bubbles inside of you.

“‘S that so?” he mumbles, playfully.

“Uh huh,” you nod with a chuckle, this time playing along. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Instead of replying with words, Carmy swiftly wraps an arm around you, before flipping you so that you’re the one on your back this time. You let out of a shriek and a laugh as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before adding:

“How could I ever?”

You shrug casually, “Weeeelll…. you just have so much going on up there.” You reach up to where Carmy hovers above you, brushing a golden curl out of his eyes as you continue your little dance.

“You know, between the restaurant and all that time spent being a genius,” you joke, bantering with Carmy. “Don’t know how you have the time to remember silly little things like wedding dates and what not.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carmy laughs, shaking his head incredulously, before pressing another kiss, this one much deeper to your lips again.

And this time, as he pulls away, he gives you one of those languid looks that pierces right through your soul replying much more seriously this time with:

“I could never forget you.”

The way he says it with such conviction takes your breath away, and you know that Carmy means it. The double meaning isn’t lost on him either.

It’s one of the reasons he called you all those years ago to come teach Marcus; it’s why you ended up in Chicago:

Because as much as he tried, as damn good at compartmentalizing as he’d always been, he really could never forget you. Carmy shakes his head once more, a playful smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you again, wondering when the hell he got this fuckin’ sentimental. As he places his mouth over yours, you’re more than happy to switch gears into doing this dance for a little longer.

Carmy traces light shapes against your skin, his mouth pouring love into yours with every kiss, with every drag of his tongue. You gasp as he grinds his hips into yours, making it clear where he’d like this all to go. You pull away, only for a moment, giggling cheekily.

“Babe, I-,” you begin to protest, as Carmy chuckles, continuing to kiss you with zero intention of stopping “We… we’re going to be late.” This time, you feel his hands snake underneath the t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in, sending chills down your spine.

“And-, Carm-, I-, I have to do my hair for-, … and what about-, my parents, they’ll-,” you stammer through, your thoughts becoming all kinds of disorganized with the way Carmy’s lips move against your neck this time.

“I’ll be quick,” he answers with an aplomb you didn’t know he had in him.

“I don’t know if that’s the flex you think it is,” you tease him as his hands begin to cup your breasts, your body responding with an involuntary arch of your back.

“How fast I can make you come? I think it might be?” he murmurs against your lips, cockily.

“Carmy,” you moan, as he begins to pull your t-shirt up higher, making it incredibly difficult to think of your to-do list for much longer.

“Oh fuck it,” you sigh, deciding that, perhaps there’s no harm in getting the honeymoon started a little early anyways.

“That’s my girl,” Carmy whispers against you, grinning like a Cheshire cat as you surrender to him.

And he’s right about this too.

How fast he can make you cum deserves all kinds of bragging rights, awards – a Nobel Peace prize, even – and you’re not sure why you thought getting a head start on doing your hair would’ve been the better idea in the first place. You spend the morning in the arms of the man you plan to spend forever with as he writes love letters, promises to give you the world, declarations of adoration with the pleasure he brings you. And besides, you’re not running all that behind on time anyways – something you realize, as the two of you get out of the shower (a round two, really).

It takes a little longer than expected – mostly due to the fact that you and Carmy can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other – but against all odds, the two of you pull up to the courthouse right on time.

It’s a sight for sore eyes: you, running hand in hand with your husband-to-be in a white, halter-cut wedding dress while Carmy follows along, in a classic black suit – no tie around the neck – as the two of you hurry into the courthouse.

Sure, you could’ve tried to get here early – saved a little time and stress – but where’s the fun in that?

The two of you approach your families, hand in hand, to the sounds of your heels clicking against the marble floors of City Hall. The actual ceremony at City Hall, you’d both decided, would be family only.

Since you weren’t making a huge deal of it, you viewed this part as necessary paperwork, while the party itself could function as the ceremony and reception. But as soon as you see the look on your parents’ faces, you know this is more than just a few signed papers. You watch as their faces change, from impatient, waiting, eager, to in awe and emotional as you walk towards them.

You hear Ava shout your name, immediately dropping her dad’s hand as she runs towards you.

“Ava!!” you exclaim, bending down in your heels and white dress to scoop her up into a hug. You spin her around, just for a moment, before setting her back down on the floor.

“You look like a princess,” she says, completely in awe, her eyes wide as she looks up at you.

“You look like a princess, sweetie,” you reply, before giving her another hug. “And you know I can’t wait to hear your song, right?”

“I picked the best one,” she grins, proudly.

“I’m sure you did,” you reply confidently, with a playful wink.

“Oh-ho! Pay up, Rick,” Sugar mutters smugly, to Richie, as Carmy busies himself with greeting both of your parents.

Richie groans, muttering something profane as he not-so-discreetly hands Nat a $20 bill, earning a quizzical look from both of your parents that travels from Carmy and then to you.

“Sorry,” Richie apologizes, this time directing this one towards your parents as he holds up both hands, respectfully bowing his head.

You send a playful glare Richie’s way, earning a sardonic laugh from Natalie, as you push right past him and over to your parents.

“Oh sweetie,” your mom gasps, pulling you in for a tight squeeze.

“Hi, Mom,” you grin, as you hug her. “Dad!”

“My God, honey, you look beautiful,” your dad says, as it’s his turn next. You hug your dad, exchanging a few words about the morning, asking how they slept, how the hotel is, as your mom and Carmy hug it out.

This time, he turns his attention towards Carmy, so you release him, letting the two of them have their moment.

Taking your chance, while your parents are otherwise distracted, you make your way over to where Sugar and Richie stand.

“What? You guys were betting on whether or not we’d be late?” you ask Sugar, an eyebrow quirked in Richie’s direction.

“Listen,” Sugar sighs, cupping your face in her hands, endearingly. “You and Carm are nothing if not consistent.” You exchange a laugh with your almost-sister-in-law because you know she’s right. “And for the record, I bet that you’d be-.”

“Just in time!” the judge says, as he approaches the six of you, slipping his judge robe over his shoulders, black leather fold pressed against his chest. “You guys ready to get started?”

Carmy looks over at you, as if he’s waiting for you to take the lead here, and you nod, before the both of you turn back to the judge.

“Yes.”

“Great,” he smiles, clapping his hands together once. “Then let’s get you two married!”

"sooner or later, you'll find yourself right where you were, on the corner went looking for her, she had somethin' to tell you, she can't quite remember, but wait for a second, it always comes back to her, you always come back to her." -- the japanese house, 'morning pages'

And after dotting all appropriate i’s and crossing all necessary t’s, with one signed marriage license later, you, Carmy, your parents, Richie and Ava, Sugar, and Judge Thompson find yourself on the green roof of City Hall.

Carmy stands across you, his hands in yours, offering you a lifetime with one look from the most expressive blue orbs you’ve ever found yourself in.

“If you’d like to say something, if you prepared any vows… now would be the time,” Judge Thompson says, offering you and Carmy both the space to do so.

“Oh I think we-,” you begin, ready to decline the opportunity since you figured you’d save it for the reception.

“Actually uh, yeah. Can we?” Carmen interjects, sending you a look of reassurance.

“Of course,” Judge Thompson nods, giving you and Carmy the floor.

“Carm, I didn’t prepare anything for-,” you begin, but he’s quick to put your mind and heart at ease and he interjects with:

“It’s okay. I did.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t expected this, since you both agreed you’d save any kind of speeches that may or may not happen today during the reception. But as Carmy’s palms grow clammier, a nervous look in his eyes as he searches for the words he’s practiced over the last few days, it becomes clear that he’s been planning this.

“As you know… I’m not always great with words,” he begins, almost apologetically, letting out a small laugh as he looks to Richie for reassurance. In turn, Richie gives Carmy a sympathetic nod, and you’re practically melting over the fact that he probably asked Richie for help with this.

Let it rip.

“I just uh-,” Carmy stammers, because he really, really wants to get this right. “Well, I’ll keep it brief.” He takes a breath, letting all of his nerves out on the exhale before beginning again.

Let it rip, buddy.

“I have loved you for so long – I think maybe since the day you brought me soup after I uh… you know, spilled my drink on you,” he states, earning the sweetest laugh from you, your friends, and family that came to witness.

“-- so I promise to love you for even longer, for forever. You changed my life.”

You exhale, trying your best not to cry right here and now, thankful for the mysterious powers of waterproof mascara.

“Jeez, no pressure,” you joke, dryly, before taking another breath, this time approaching your words with much more seriousness.

“Carmen. I’m so happy… that I changed your life,” you begin, cheekily, earning a laugh from your witnesses once more. “Because you changed mine. And I promise to love you forever.”

‘I love you,’ Carmy mouths to you, before nodding towards the judge to signal that you’re both done with your vows.

“Alright then,” Judge Thompson smiles, looking from you and then to Carmen, before uttering the question that will change the course of your life forever.

“I do,” Carmy replies, his voice even, sure, ready.

Natalie steps up this time, handing Carmy your ring, and you watch, teary eyed and full hearted as he slides it onto your left ring finger.

“And do you take Carmen Anthony Berzatto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Judge Thompson repeats the question, this time for you to answer.

“Yeah, why the hell not?” you reply, earning a groan from your mother and a playful chuckle from your father.

“Yes. I do.”

At Richie’s encouragement, it’s Ava this time who steps up, handing you Carmy’s ring, with the sweetest most excited smile on her face as she looks from you to Carmy. You thank her, before returning your attention to Carmy once more. His eyes search your face, and there’s something so soft, so genuine in them that you think you’re going to cry as you help him put on his new piece of jewelry as well.

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” Judge Thompson concludes, contently.

“Should we-, do we kiss?” Carmy asks, looking from you to Judge Thompson.

“I’m just a civil servant but you may, yes,” he answers lightheartedly.

“Let’s go for it,” you shrug, taking a step towards Carmy.

Instead of answering, he smiles, stepping towards you before planting one on you in front of your friends and family that were invited to this brief ceremony.

While Sugar claps gleefully, Richie claps along muttering a ‘get a room,’ while you remind Carmy to keep it PG enough for your parents. You giggle, slowly pulling away from the kiss that begins the rest of your life with the man that you love.

“We did it, baby. We’re married,” you chuckle, in disbelief.

“Finally,” Carmy sighs, and you can see his smile from his lips to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for your mom to usher both you and Carmy over to a spot in the garden she thinks will be best for pictures, just as the photographer arrives. She wasn’t wrong when she insisted you hire one, that you’d want to remember this day for the rest of your life. The photographer, who is incredibly talented, gets the shots needed up here in the garden, then downstairs, and outside, before you’re all off to Sugar’s place for the reception.

As you and Carmy sit in the car, having taken a separate one than your parents, you’re giddy with anticipation.

It’s all so surreal.

Never in his life did Carmy picture it ever getting this good, but as he looks over at you, your head resting on his shoulder, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiling to himself.

“We did it, sweet girl. We’re married,” he says, repeating your words from earlier.

“Yeah,” you grin, lifting your head off of his shoulder.

“We are, Bear.”

"give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose."

“No, Sugar! That’s not supposed to go out yet. Everything’s goin’ out family style. Let’s just take out the apps for-,” Carmy exclaims, stressed over the execution of your wedding reception-slash-brunch, because he just can’t help himself.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Bear!” she snaps at her brother. “Will you calm down and let us handle this?”

“I just want everything to-,” Carmy begins, his face blushing a shade darker.

“To go right. We know. And we know we’re just taking out apps, alright? Everyone else is outside, and everyone’s having a good time so just… relax,” she suggests, her tone serious because she’s just about to kick Carmy out of the kitchen.

Carmy shifts nervously, hyper-fixating on the happenings of the kitchen, his eyes tracking the movements of one of his caterer, Derek’s, sous chefs. It’s almost as if he needs to give himself a distraction as he asks, blankly:

“Do you uh… you think Mom is actually gonna show?”

Sugar pauses, the question throwing her.

“I… I don’t know. I called her yesterday. She never picked up. What do you think?” she replies, her voice quiet.

With your encouragement, you and Carmy had sent his mother an invitation to the brunch, only it’s been Sugar who’s followed up with her.

“We did what we needed to and if she doesn’t come, then she doesn’t come. I’m not pushin’ it,” Carmy had explained, justifying his actions, or rather, lack there of, to you.

She’s doubtful, but Nat can’t help the tiny glimmer of hope she has in her heart that Donna might show, even if she knows it’s unrealistic. In fact, her mom had barely been interested in stopping by as of late, ever since she’d told the Berzatto matriarch that she was pregnant. She keeps telling herself that it doesn’t matter – that it’s probably better if Donna doesn’t show – but it doesn’t help ease the disappointment she feels about the situation as a whole.

“Doubt it, honestly. Never even got an RSVP so,” Carmy shrugs, his eyes following one of the caterers as the woman plates a few Hors d'oeuvres on a large serving platter.

Before Sugar can say anything else about their mom, Carmy’s impulse takes over as he opens his mouth to give feedback to one of Derek’s assistants.

“Carmy!” she snaps, blocking his pathway with her body, before repeating one more time:

“Let. Us. Handle this.”

“I mean, are any of us actually surprised, Nat?” Sydney adds, as soon as she enters the kitchen from where she’s been outside in the backyard, in search of another plate to bring out. “He’s a control freak! We know this!”

“I-,” Carmy starts, knowing it’s no use protesting, as both Sugar and Syd begin guiding him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“C’mon, Carm. Why don’t you go see what your wife is up to?” Sydney suggests, emphasizing your new title, earning a snicker from Natalie.

“Who’s wife? This wife?” you ask, as soon as your feet hit the bottom of the staircase.

“Woah,” is all Carmy says. He can’t help but stare, gawking at you in your new dress.

You’ve changed out of your near-floor length wedding dress into a sleeveless white blazer dress that’s much more friendly to hanging out with your friends and family outside, kept your hair the same, and put on one of those super stay red lipsticks that you’re eager to put through its paces.

It’s as if time stops when he sees you, and Sugar and Syd both notice, using this time to retreat back to their duties. The only thing that can break his focus right now is the way that you let a carefree laugh fly from your lips, as soon as you see that Natalie’s using the future baby’s baby gate that Nat must’ve purchased early, to officially block Carmy from coming back to the kitchen.

“What?” Carmy asks, only to be met with a gesture towards what Natalie is doing.

He frowns, immediately seeing the baby gate his sister has put up.

“You know, I’m not a baby,” he pouts at his sister.

“Then stop acting like one!” she parries right back, before disappearing into the kitchen to help out your caterer.

Quick to console your husband, you wrap your arms around your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“They’re only trying to make sure we have a good time, Bear,” you offer, sympathetically, only to be met with a heavy sigh because you know it feels near-impossible for him not to be in the kitchen.

“You trust Derek right?” you ask this time, referring to the caterer that Carmy hand-picked for your wedding.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Okay. Then let’s go out there. Make our grand entrance,” you suggest, a playful smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” Carmy nods again, this time a little more sure about taking a step away from what’s happening inside the kitchen. You take his hand, leading him towards the back door that opens up to the backyard.

You’re truly amazed at what everyone involved has been able to do this morning, while you and Carmy were off at the courthouse getting married. Long tables pushed together and covered with tablecloths function as the main attraction of the you-and-Carmy-wedding-reception-brunch, filled with ceramic plates, printed menus, apps on serving platters, taper candles and flowers in all kinds of little to big vases.

The minute the two of you enter the backyard area that’s been transformed into a wedding venue, you’re met with cheers, ooo’s and aaaaah’s, claps, and congratulations by your friends and family.

“Sugar really knocked this out of the park,” Carmy says, in awe as he takes in the scene. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to trust, I guess.”

You nod, happy to hear the confidence in his voice as you agree, “That’s my guy!”

There’s a banner that hangs across a much smaller table, the one that holds the stunning wedding cake Marcus has made for you that reads, Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto.

“See? I told you I couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Berzatto,” you joke with Carmy, as the two of you walk hand in hand towards the table.

“I think I like the sound of that more than I should,” Carmy smirks, a glimmer in his eyes that says ‘I can’t wait to get you alone.’

“Can’t wait for you to show me later,” you wink, referring to the long weekend you plan on spending with Carmy as a pre-honeymoon. “C’mon. We should probably go say hello.”

“So… you two married now or what?” Marcus asks, as soon as the two of you approach the table.

You hold up your left hand, showing off your new ring, earning grins and more cheers from your friends and family.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he celebrates, while Tina simultaneously and enthusiastically cries out: “Congratulations, babies!”

The plan is to divine and conquer. While you chat with Gary, Carmy lets himself become enveloped in Tina’s arms and praise, as the two of you make your way down the table saying hello to your guests: your parents, Marcus, Tina, Ebra, Fak, Gary, a few others from the restaurant, while.

Carmy’s glad you decided to keep this wedding small: close friends and family only, because he’s not sure he could’ve done any more of this. It’s just close friends from the restaurant and your parents. You’d even decided earlier that this weekend would be chill enough that you’d celebrate with Maya and Liz a few months later when you and Carmy stop in New York before the official honeymoon, planning another celebration with your New York people for later.

Besides, you don’t mind celebrating you and Carmy a few more times, after all.

Finally, you’re both able to settle into the empty chairs seated right next to your parents in the middle of the table labeled ‘bride’ and ‘groom.’ It’s a Saturday well spent, being celebrated by some of your favorite people in the world on a day you made a promise to your favorite person in the world. It doesn’t take long for everyone in the kitchen to join you at the table: Sugar, Richie, Sydney, and Pete, and once the meal is served, family style, you’re pulling up chairs and insisting that Derek and his team join you as well.

The menu is perfect, and you can see why Carmy’s been trying to get this guy to come work for him for so long. Next to Carmy’s, this carbonara might be your second favorite carbonara on the planet. After all the eating, drinking, and merry-making, it’s Richie who steps up to start the speeches, gently tapping a butter knife against a champagne glass as he stands at the table.

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” he asks, his voice loud. Richie raises his champagne glass as he begins his speech with:

“Now as the best man and this Bobby Flay-motherfucker's cousin, I think I earn the right to kick this thing off, eh?” earning a laugh from everyone around the table.

“To Carmy and his much, much better half,” he continues, earning a laugh from everyone around the table. Your mom squeezes your hand under the table, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Sydney nudging Carmy softly as Richie addresses you.

“You once made me $150 richer.” You laugh, exchanging a look with your now-husband, as you fondly remember the day you returned to Chicago, only to learn that the entire restaurant staff of The Bear had been betting, not on if, but on when you’d return.

“You see, we all took bets – all of us – that you were comin’ back after that first week you spent here in Chicago, and you know why? I think it was obvious to any jagoff with a pair of eyes that what you and Cousin had was something special – something not to be missed, or overlooked, or skipped over. And thank God you two idiots woke up and figured it out yourselves. You did good, cousin. And I know your brother would’ve wanted to be here for this. I love you, man. I love you both.”

“To this very special day, and to the rest of your lives. Cheers.”

“Cheers!” everyone repeats, raising their glasses, clinking in celebration.

The upside to having a small wedding party is having a small wedding party, and the downside is that everyone who feels the need to get in a word does so. While Ebraheim waxes on about love as a metaphor, Marcus keeps his toast short, leading to the cutting of your wedding cake:

Vanilla bean cake, with a clementine curd, a swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with delicate flowers, citrus, and dollops of curd to finish.

Richie slips out with Pete momentarily, earning a few quizzical looks from both Carmy and Nat as she gets up from the table to make sure they’re not trading punches in the driveway. It’s not till Richie returns with Pete, carrying a rented little karaoke machine for Ava. Hand in hand, you watch as Natalie guides Ava up and out of her chair, and over to the head of the table, handing her the microphone.

“You ready, sweetheart?” she asks, earning a confident nod from Ava.

The beginning of the famous Taylor Swift begins to play, and you and Carmy exchange a knowing look as she begins to sing along.

“we were both young when i first saw you i close my eyes and the flashback starts i'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air.”

As Natalie and Pete watch on, Pete hugs his wife close to her, tears in his eyes as he whispers:

“This is going to be us very, very soon.”

“Yeah,” Nat nods, holding back her own tears as she notices how proud Richie looks, and how happy Ava seems to be.

It’s not that she wants Donna here. Realistically, she knows that it would be a nightmare, most likely descending into drama and chaos from the minute she walked in, but she can’t believe that her own mother didn’t come to her son’s wedding. She shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurts more than she imagined, doing this, watching Carmy get married, having this baby with Pete, all without her.

Ava finishes her Taylor Swing song to a resounding and enthusiastic round of applause. Marcus cheers her on while you and Carmy share a soft, chaste kiss, welcoming Ava with open arms as she runs towards you.

“That was so good, baby,” Richie exclaims, when it’s his turn to scoop Ava up into his arms as you get out of your seat. Allowing Richie to sit next to Carmy while the two gush over her performance, you get up, eager to help put the karaoke machine away.

As she watches, Nat reminds herself that this is what family looks like – this is the family she wants for her baby – even if it means something, someones, are missing.

And it’s as if she can’t hold back her tears anymore, excusing herself as she jerks her body away from Pete’s grasp, hurrying back inside so as not to cause a scene.

“What just-?” Pete begins.

“I’ll go,” you assure him, having witnessed the whole interaction. “I-, it’s not you, Pete. I’ll go.”

It doesn’t take you long to find Nat, though she’s not where you expected her to be, having run all the way upstairs when you find her sitting on the floor of the baby’s nursery – one you helped paint and get ready over a month ago.

“Hey, everything alright?” you ask, as you gently push the door open.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” she sniffles, wiping tears out of her eyes as she realizes she’s no longer alone.

“Nat, what… what’s going on?” you ask her, joining her on the floor.

But it seems as if your question only makes it worse as her face crumbles once more, beginning to cry.

“Oh no! I-, Nat, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it even worse.”

“No, no, you didn’t. It’s just these… stupid pregnancy hormones!” she exclaims, frustratedly, earning a small laugh from the both of you.

She takes a beat, and then a breath, and then finally, she feels ready to tell you.

“It’s Mom,” she admits, even though she really doesn’t want it to be. “I just can’t believe she didn’t show. It’s stupid, I know.”

You nod in understanding, before scooting a little closer to her, “It’s not stupid! And I’m sorry. For the both of you, really. Carmy doesn’t want to talk about it but, I know he’s some combination of relieved and disappointed too.”

Sugar sighs, “Yeah that uh, that sums it up pretty well. About anything involving Mom these days.”

Nat takes another breath, and another beat, because she knows she’s safe to share this with you.

“I just… I’ve just been thinking a lot… with the baby and everything. About family. About motherhood. I mean, your parents are so great and I-. I’m just sad for us, you know?”

“I’m sad for you too,” you empathize, rubbing soothing circles on her back, before leaning back on both of your hands instead.

“God, I’m so sorry. It’s your wedding day and I’m causing all the drama,” Nat begins to apologize.

“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for!” you interrupt her, quick to dismiss any notion of that. “You lent us your house and put together all of this in your backyard on top of accompanying us to the courthouse! You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sugar nods slowly, processing what you’ve just said, realizing that you and Pete have been such big role models of unconditional love for her.

“Wanna know what I think?” you ask, your voice a little more optimistic this time.

“What’s up?” she asks back, stealing a glance your way.

“I think… that now that I’m a Berzatto… and with your little Bear on the way,” you begin, painting her the picture. “We’ve got a whole new chance to write a new chapter for the Berzattos.”

She looks your way once more, because these are the words she didn’t know she needed to hear.

“And with that… we can make this… make our families anything we want them to be filled with love, and joy, and-, well, only a little drama because you know, you guys are… you. But… Sug. This can all start with us, you know?”

“You really think so?” she asks you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Yeah,” you answer, confidently.

She nods slowly once more, almost as if she’s letting herself believe them.

“Thank you. For checking in on me. For… this,” she says softly, sniffling again.

“That’s what sisters are for,” you repeat her words back to her, one’s that she’s said to you time and time again.

“We should probably get back out there,” Sugar suggests, sitting up a little taller this time.

“Yeeeaaaaahhhhh,” you sigh, disappointedly, this time making a joke as you continue with: “We don’t want to start any rumors about us running away together.

Nat snorts with laughter, thanking you for always making her laugh, as you stand up, making your way to your feet. You hold out your hands, helping Nat up to hers this time, before the two of you head back downstairs.

“Hey,” Carmy says, as soon as he sees the two of you. “Pete said you disappeared.”

“We were just talking about some stuff,” you reply, sharing a look with Sugar before releasing her hand.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” she says, before slipping out through the back door.

“Everything okay?” Carmy asks, his brow knitted together in concern.

You nod, “Yeah, she’s alright. How’re you doing?”

“Today? I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he replies, a smile on his lips that makes you melt.

“Damn right you are,” you reply, pressing your lips against his.

It’s a private moment for just you two, where you can kiss him like you want to, and you have to admit that the lipstick holds up. Wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands go to your waist, you propose a grand idea to your husband:

“Now that cake has been cut… what do you say… we spend a little more time with our guests, say our goodbyes… then we get our honeymoon started early? Think uh… our room at the Langham should be ready by now.”

“Thought we already did that this morning,” Carmy smirks, kissing you again.

You giggle, leaning your forehead against his, “You know what I mean, jerk.”

Carmy scoffs, shaking his head incredulously as he feigns hurt, “Married for a few hours and you’re already insulting me.” Instead of adding anything else, he simply pulls you in closer by your hips murmuring against your lips:

“Alright then, Mrs. Berzatto. Then let’s go say goodbye to our guests.”

“it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes" – taylor swift, ‘love story’

504 notes · View notes

fbfh · 1 year

Text

rodrick x hyperfeminine hcs pt 3: changes: the big prom: the sex romp: the season finale

wc: 2.2k

genre: angst and fluff, teenage dream

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: roddy has low self esteem, madison and heather are not good friends prom trope, happy ending

summary: you and rodrick are both planning on ditching prom because if you can't go with each other, you don't want to go at all. fate has other plans, and rodrick thinks maybe prom isn't that overrated after all.

song recs: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, wasting love - iron maiden

a/n: LAST PART IN THE RODDY X HYPERFEM ARC!!! send me roddy asks bc this boy deserves more love. also if you get the clone high reference in the title I love you

(optionally) the iconic dress

tags @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

You’ve spent the last few weeks throwing yourself into the project of planning Heather and Madison’s prom outfits

And hair

And makeup

And accessories

But that all comes with the territory of getting ready for prom

Once you decided to put them in soft pastels and flowy floaty ball gown dresses, word got out pretty quickly that that was the look for prom season in plainview

Everyone was getting the poofiest, softest dresses they could get their hands on

Soon selkie dresses and all their knock offs were sold out everywhere

Even white and pastel suits and tuxedos were selling like hotcakes

Heather and Madison keep asking about your dress, but you don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t have one yet

Because you don’t plan on going

If you can’t go with Rodrick you don’t want to go at all

You don’t want Heather and Madison to be disappointed, so you haven’t told them that your real plans for prom night are to stay at home in your cozy pink pajamas and watch romantic comedies while you throw chocolates at the screen like a heartbroken Elle Woods

Rodrick has similar plans to blow off prom night

With less romcoms and pedicures, but he still has no intention of going

He managed to score Iron Maiden tickets for the friday after prom for him and the guys

Even though Ward is probably going to flake on them so he can spend the weekend with his girlfriend

Her parents are out of town then, so none of them can blame him

Rodrick’s been going out of his way to throw out every flier and leaflet about prom that gets sent to their house before his mom can see it

And it’s been going fine

Until Greg decides to be a little asshole and get revenge for a harmless prank Rodrick pulled on him

Sure, Greg’s skin was stained blue for the rest of the week

But still

That doesn’t warrant showing their mom all the prom flyers and convincing her that Rodrick can’t possibly miss out on this developmental milestone

Rodrick was desperate not to go

And he almost got away with it

But before he knows it, it’s prom night and his mom barges into his room with the flier insisting he goes

Rodrick tries everything he can think of to change her mind

“Mom, I don’t have anything to wear.”

She digs through his closet and holds up the only clean shirt and tie in his closet, giving him a look in response

“I don’t have a ride.”

“You can take your van.”

“I don’t have a date!”

That one gets him a 10 minute lecture about building character and planning ahead

“And I’m sure if you ask nicely there will be some girl who will dance with you. To real music, not that… screaming and thrashing and noise you’re always playing.” Susan says, pausing the spotify playlist he’d been blasting

Rodrick rolls his eyes at how out of touch she is

Everyone at school thinks he’s some loser punk

And now he’s going to show up late to prom with no date??

He’s glad prom is only for seniors, because he would never be able to live this down otherwise

Maybe it won’t be too bad

He can just sit in the parking lot and blast Green Day until it’s time to leave

“And don’t you think you can just go somewhere else, or hide in your van. You know my friend Linda?”

Susan doesn’t wait for Rodrick to answer

“Well, she’s a chaperone, and she’ll tell me if you’re not there. Okay? This is for your own good, Rodrick.”

Fuck

Well, that idea’s out

“Fine, I’ll go…” Rodrick agrees, reluctantly giving in

Susan is delighted

She starts to leave so he can get changed, but he stops her before she can

“Can I borrow your eyeliner?”

A little while later, he’s sitting in his van in the school parking lot

He was already wearing black converse and ripped black jeans, so he just had to throw on the black button up and red tie his mom found

His hair was perfectly messed up from the nap he was startled awake from when his mom barged in

He shoves his headphones in his pocket, and after putting it off for as long as he can, he gets out and closes the door

Maybe it won’t be so bad

Maybe there will be some live music that’s actually decent

Ward and his girlfriend are already there, so maybe they’ll take pity on him and let him third wheel for a while so he doesn’t feel like such a total loser

He opens the doors to the gym, and is met with a hellscape of fluffy pastels and cutesy radio pop

Even the guys are in white and soft shades of blue and green and yellow

He feels like he’s going to throw up

He's in hell

This is what hell looks like

Among the hellscape of fluffy pastel tulle, Heather and Madison text you in a fit, wondering where the hell you are

You’re missing prom for god’s sake

You text them back the same thing you’ve been telling them all night

You’re running late, you’re having wardrobe malfunctions, but have fun and you’ll be there soon

When their dates leave to get them drinks, Madison sees someone sulking at a table

It’s Rodrick Heffley

She subtly takes a picture of him from across the room and texts Madison

🚨HEFFLEY ALERT🚨

He looks fucking pathetic lmao

Like how sad can u get lskjsldkfjd

Heather responds, laughing at what a loser he is

Only Madison didn’t just text Heather

She texted the group chat with Heather, her, and you

Your phone starts blowing up with more texts from Heather and Madison

You finally check their texts, assuming it’ll be more of the same

Your heart drops when you see a picture of Rodrick sitting alone at a table

“He couldn’t even get a date?? How pathetic 💀”

Your stomach sinks as you feel your heart break for Rodrick

He doesn’t deserve this

And neither do you

Rodrick should get to enjoy his prom

And you should get to have at least one chance with him

You have to see him

You have to crash prom and tell him you’ve been crazy about him since the moment you saw him

You have to ask him to dance with you

You have to try

Realizing how much you have to do in such a short amount of time, you throw yourself out of bed

You dig through your closet until you find your sweet 16 dress

It’s not at all on brand with the unofficial theme for prom, but it will have to do

You grab shoes and some matching jewelry and get dressed in a hurry

After throwing on the slinky, glittering, hot pink evening gown, you put on a pair of matching marabou heels

Your earrings and choker accent your glittering dress, and the high slit in the floor length skirt shows off your shoes perfectly

You finish pulling yourself together and rush out the door to get to prom as fast as possible

You feel like Cinderella rushing to the ball, hoping to meet prince charming

And you really feel like you have a shot at pulling this off.

Rodrick feels like absolute shit

He didn’t think prom could feel this awful, but here he is

Alone at a table like a total loser while everyone else is dancing and having a good time

He looked around for Ward

And found him and his girlfriend hooking up under the bleachers

And in the bathroom

And in an empty classroom

So third wheeling is officially not an option anymore

He feels like everyone is laughing at him

Some of them literally are

And in a room full of poofy pastel dresses and suits, he sticks out like a sore thumb

His outfit does kind of look like Gerard Way in the music video for Helena

But that’s obviously lost on all his mainstream pop obsessed classmates

He’s in a crowded room full of everyone in his grade

And he’s never felt more alone

This is torture

He’s about to get up and leave when the doors open on the other side of the gym

Heads turn as a gasp fills the room, followed by low murmuring

The crowd parts like Moses parting the sea, and Rodrick looks over curiously

You emerge from the graveyard of pastel tulle in a gorgeous, slinky, hot pink dress that looks like Elle Woods and Marilyn Monroe combined

And you’re looking right at him

His heart starts pounding

You walk toward him as a hush falls over the room

This can’t be real

There’s no way this is real

“Hi, Rodrick.” you say softly

He’s confused as fuck and feels like he could cry

You actually know who he is??

You know his name???

“...Hi,” he chokes out, unsure of where the hell this is going

You look up at him with your pretty sparkly eyes and he feels like dreaming

“I…” you start, and he realizes you’re looking at him the way he looks at you, the way he’s been looking at you since he first saw you

“I never got to thank you for playing at my party.” You say softly

Thank him??

You actually liked it??

Everyone is staring at you with their jaws on the floor, but neither of you notice or care right now

He manages to choke out a response that probably sounds really stupid, but you just giggle sweetly

Are you blushing??

“Would-” you start, finally deciding to swallow your nerves and bite the bullet

You have to go for it

You’ve never liked someone as much as you like Rodrick and if you don’t try now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life

Rodrick’s heart is hammering in his chest

You look so pretty he could die

“Do you want to dance?”

The words are out before your nerves can take over

He looks at you in disbelief

“Yeah,” he breaths, hoping that if this is a dream that it’s one he won’t wake up from for a while

You step closer to him, but you both freeze as the next song starts playing

It’s another oversaturated top 50 pop song

You grimace in unison

Rodrick notices your mutual distaste for the overplayed song

If you really liked loded diper…

“Uh, here,” he pulls out his headphones and offers you one

“Thanks,” you say, trying to suppress the butterflies erupting inside you

It feels intimate, sharing headphones and listening to his playlists

You fight a giddy smile and pop in the headphone as he hits shuffle

A flash of fear that you’ll judge him for his music taste and this whole beautiful dream will be ruined burns through him

Your pause as the music begins to play

Rodrick’s fear vanishes as fast as it came when you look up at him with enthusiastic sincerity

“I love Iron Maiden!”

“Really?” he asks

He thought you couldn’t surprise him anymore than you have tonight, but this just keeps getting better and better

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling brightly as you place his hands on your waist

You sway softly to the beat of the song

You rest your head on Rodrick’s chest, a banger of a song playing in one ear, and Rodrick’s thudding heartbeat in the other

Neither of you are aware of the stares, of Heather freaking out behind you, of the whispers and the gossip or one of the teachers cashing in on winning a bet that Rodrick would actually dance with someone by the end of the night

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care

Rodrick holds you tight, never wanting this night to end

His heart starts pounding harder as he looks down at you, and you pull away from him enough to look up at him

He swallows, hoping this goes well

“Me and the guys are going to see Iron Maiden next friday and I have an extra ticket, would you want to-”

You’re already nodding

“Yes!” you beam

Going to an amazing concert with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen is literally what you’ve been dreaming of for years

Rodrick lets out a chuckle, overjoyed that this worked, that he’s dancing with you and you said yes

He makes a mental note to thank his mom for forcing him to come here

But he forgets it as soon as you stretch up, pulling his face down to yours

You press a warm kiss to his lips, one full of anticipation, one you’ve both been dreaming about

He pulls you closer, melting into your touch

He thinks maybe high school isn’t as bad as he thought

#rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick x girly reader #rodrick x hyperfeminine reader #girly!reader #hyperfeminine!reader #doawk #doawk x reader #RODRICK IS THE TEENAGE DIRTBAG #ITS HIS SONG

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tare-anime · 7 months

Text

Yor never had any valuable jewelry, until her husband bought one for her. (AO3, Comedy, Fluff, Rings, Pre-reveal)

--------------------------------------

Yor is sitting near the pond at the mall.

They are currently on their “scheduled date to maintain true couple persona”. Yor is currently waiting for Loid who has been going to buy them a refreshment after roaming around the mall.

Yor is very grateful for the small break. Because after “working overtime” for 4 consecutive nights, she is quite tired. She has put on her most convincing smile throughout their date, but it seems Loid can still see the underlying tiredness in her.

No, Yor!! Don’t be ungrateful!! She shakes her head vehemently. Loid is tired too, but he is still going on with the schedule.

She then slaps her cheeks. Come on! Be more energetic!

“Oh my gosh!! This is truly very pretty, darling!!”

A squeal of delight coming from her left makes Yor turns her head to observe the source.

A couple has just exited a jewelry store. The woman is admiring the gem on her finger while at the same time nuzzling the man.

“Nothing but the best for my dear darling!” Yor hears the man return the gesture.

Soon after they share a very passionate kiss that Yor’s face feels warm and she has to avert her eyes.

Is giving gifts and kissing in public a normal thing for couples to do?? She puts both of her palms on her cheeks, hoping to ease the warmth there before Loid returns.

Suddenly she gasps when she remembers the day’s conversation at the break room of City Hall.

“Look at this new necklace and earrings my boyfriend bought me!!” Millie squealed in delight.

“It’s a cheap imitation.” Sharon answered uninterestedly, puffing out smoke through the opened window.

“It’s the intention that matters the most!” Millie chirped.

“Right. And that is exactly the sign that he is cheating.” Camilla scoffed and yet she eyed the jewelry intently.

“You guys are just jealous because your partners didn’t buy you anything.” Millie looked at her reflection in the mirror and aligned her head right to left. “Look at Yor-senpai. She didn’t find this strange because her gorgeous husband must’ve bought her plenty of things, right??”

“Ah.. uh….” Yor blabbered her answers when three pairs of eyes focused on her.

Returning to the present, Yor's mouth squiggles. Oh no! Loid and I never buy each other anything. Does this make us suspicious??

Yor dreadfully look at the Jewelry Store. Maybe I should–...

“Sorry for waiting, Yor.”

“GAAHH!!” Yor jumps in her seat upon hearing Loid’s soft voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–...” Loid is taken aback.

“No no no !! It’s alright. I was just spacing out.” She forces a smile.

Loid tilts his head and gives her the drink, “Are you tired?”

Accepting the drink Yor immediately denies, “No! Not at all. I was just…” She glances at the jewelry store. “I just remembered that at City Hall today….”

She shakes her head. No, Yor. Don’t be silly. You can’t just buy Loid anything. You haven’t asked whether Loid is comfortable with wearing any jewelry.

And thus she smiles at Loid and says, “Nevermind. So, where are we going next?”

But Loid is seen following her gaze and then he asks, “Shall we take a look?”

Yor is aghast, “No! That’s not what I meant. There were a couple that–...”

“To be honest, I’ve been thinking of buying you a ring for a long time,” He cuts her and smiles, “And now may be the best moment.”

Yor wrings her hand, “No need. You already gave me a ring.”

“Huh?” Loid furrows his brows, “I don’t think I ever give you…??”

“That night. After Cammila’s party. When we were…uumm” Yor’s suddenly finds her heart beating faster when she recites the moment when they exchange their vows.

Loid’s face dawns and he whispers, “You keep that?”

“Of course!” Yor exclaims, “You gave it to me!”

She sees how his mouth moves through clenched jaw before he says, “We shall go to the store right now. I insist.”

Yor confusedly answers, “But I–...”

“It’s a very normal thing a couple do, Yor.” Loid suddenly turns serious, “If I don't do it, people might get suspicious about us.”

Yor gasps. So what Millie said was true after all!!

With new determination, Yor nods and stands up

Both of them then march to the jewelry store.

“Something caught your interest, Ma’am?” Yor turns to look at the elderly woman who happens to run the store.

She bites her lower lips and mumbles, “I’m not sure. All of these are sparkling and beautiful.”

Yor furrows her brows hard. I never really had any jewelry before. Which one should I choose? A good value for money? The most sparkling one? The one that can be used as a secret weapon??

Loid tries to help her, “Perhaps you can arrange a custom-made one?”

“Absolutely, Sir! Please kindly sit here and wait for a moment.” The woman gestures to the stools at the corner of the store and hastily goes to the inner part of the shop.

Yor’s eyes bulge. “Wait, Loid. That might be-...”

“You can have something more to your liking that way, no?” He smiles gently and leads Yor to sit down with him.

Yor nods at his logic.

Before long the shop owner comes back and sits in front of them. She then carefully places a tray covered in black velvet at the table in front of them. On top of the tray lay numerous gems in different cutting and colors.

Yor’s jaw drops in awe. “Wow…..”

“We can start by choosing the stone that you like, Ma’am.” The shop owner gestures at the gems.

Yor glances at the elder lady before licking her lips nervously and focusing on the gems in front of her.

I never thought buying jewelry would be this difficult! She internally shouts in frustration.

After several seconds of silence, the shop owner chimes, “May I suggest some advice?”

Yor looks at her pleadingly, “Please do!!”

The elder woman smiles gently, “While it’s true the stones are different by their values, their color, or even their cutting, it doesn't define how one chooses their lucky stones. Just choose your favorite one. The one that can give you courage. The one that can be your good luck charm. That is the best way to choose your treasures.”

Yor blinks when she tries to comprehend the advice.

Soon after, Loid chimes from her side, “For example, you can choose the stone according to your favorite color.”

She turns her head and looks at her husband who smiles supportively to her right, while hearing the shop lady agree with him, “That is such a wonderful example, Sir!”

Favorite colors, huh? She muses while looking directly at Loid’s eyes.

Yor looks back at the shop owner and whispers, “Then, do you have a gem that’s the same color as his eyes?”

At the same time, she hears Loid sputters, and the shop owner squeals.

Huh??! What?? Did I say something wrong??

“Oh my. Oh my. OH MY!!! Of course, I have, dear!!” the shop owner practically screeches in delight and runs to the back of the shop, “Wait here!”

Yor is truly confused by the commotion happening around her.

“Yo-... Yor?? Are you sure that is the color that you want?”

Yor turns her attention back to her husband, and she nods. “Yes. I’ve always loved how your eyes are like the clear water of the ocean. They are beautiful. Calm. Peaceful. And… I’ve always felt accepted when I look at them.”

Suddenly, Loid clamps his mouth as his face turns a shade of red.

Oh no!! I really did something wrong, didn't I?? Loid must be angry with me!! Yor flabbergast. Immediately she tries to backpedal, “No, Loid I’m sor–...”

“Here are my collections!” The shop owner returns with vigor and puts another tray in front of them. “They range from the modest to the best to the–..”

“I’m sorry, I think I’ll–...”

Before she can muster the sentence, Loid slams the table and slides his card to the shop owner.

He then growls, “The best one. Give my wife the best stone you have!!”

The shop owner’s eyes glint as she nods vigorously, “Of course, Sir!”

Huh???

That day, they ended up buying a very beautiful stone and even made a custom ring, whose design was consulted with Yor for several days until she granted her assent.

Today, Yor is vibrating with excitement when she returns home from her latest assignment which made her return home later than usual.

It’s too bad that Anya has gone to bed so she cannot share the excitement with the child, but she can always show it to her daughter later.

After a quick shower, she immediately joins Loid in their living room for their nightly tea routine.

Still giddy, she sits on her usual spot on the loveseat and shows him the small velvet box.

“Oh! It’s done already?” Loid smiles.

Yor smiles brightly and nods. “It is!!”

“Have you tried it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet.”

She then smiles brightly and rambles, “I’ve seen the design and it’s gorgeous. I’m sure the real thing will be even more beautiful. So I want to show you first. And I want you to be the one who put it–..”

She halts her tongue.

Wait wait, Yor!! If you ask Loid to put the ring on your finger, doesn’t it mean…..

All of a sudden she remembers a romantic scene from Berlint in Love. It was such a peak romantic and fulfilling scene that Yor can’t help but shed a tear in happiness for the two characters.

And that might be also what nudges her to have the silly idea of asking Loid in the first place. It sounds like a good idea at first, but…..

Her heart starts to beat faster and faster.

She grips the box hard and looks at the floor. Oh no. Oh No! I should–...

“Yor.”

She snaps her head at her husband. “Y–... yes??”

“May I?” He kneels in front of her, opening his palm up.

Since when did he???

Her lip squiggles. “Uuuh… maybe… maybe it’s best if….”

He tugs at the box. “Please?”

Yor forcefully relaxes her finger, letting Loid take the box from her.

He then opens the box with one hand, while his other hand gently takes her left hand.

Yor feels her chest about to burst.

Her face feels extremely hot.

When she feels the cold ring touch her finger, she flinches.

She cannot take it any longer so she shuts her eyes.

She is focusing so hard to hold back her violent reflexes, especially when she feels Loid’s reverent touch as he slides the ring onto her finger.

After what felt like forever, Yor finally felt the ring settle perfectly on her finger.

For some unknown reason, the sensation makes her tremble.

“Yor. Breathe….”

“Phwaaaahh….” She lets go of the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

She can hear Loid’s whispers. “You can open your eyes too.”

Slowly Yor opens her eyes and immediately she comes face to face with Loid, who for some reason flushes red.

“Beautiful.”

Yor blinks. “Huh?”

Loid gulps, “The-... The ring. Look.”

Yor looks down and gasps.

She then lifts her hand to observe the ring under their living room’s lamp.

Yor really is in awe. The ring truly is beautiful. And… “It does have the same color as your eye ”

Loid splutters.

“Loid?”

“Te–.. Tea??”

Just like that time, Loid is seen clamping his mouth and his face turns extremely red. “Are you alright, Loid?”

He nods stiffly and returns to his seat in an awkward motion.

His odd behavior concerns Yor, but if the man says that he’s alright, then Yor has to believe him.

She clutches at her finger as she smiles. “Thank you so much, Loid. I’ll treasure this forever!”

Despite his condition, her husband manages to smile brightly and nods.

------------

I was enchanted when I watched 7th Time Loop anime, that I hunted down the light novel. After reading these particular scenes, that made me squeal and wrung my leg like a schoolgirl, I knew I HAD to make the TwiYor version. ^^

#spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #twiyor #sxf fic #spy x family fanfic #fluff #comedy #ring #my late valentine 2024 entry #🥰🥰🥰🥰

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eveningepiphany · 2 years

Text

lessons | H.S

my masterlist <3

summary: sitting on harrys couch, he gets it out of you that you have never intimately touched someone else, and he offers straight up for you to learn off him.

warnings: SMUT, m receiving handjob and blowjob, heaps of dirty talk and praise, gentle dom! harry, virgin! y/n

a/n: I have to be up early in the morning so I haven’t done a final proofread since it’s nearly midnight, so sorry for any mistakes. this trope with h makes me weak at the knees 😵‍💫

———

“No way…” His tone is hard to dissect, it’s filled with emotions.

You purse your lips, looking to the grey of his couch beneath you— immediately regretting admitting the truth to him.

He’s your best friend, but god you do not venture into territory like this. Hence his shock, and disbelief at the admission that had come out of your mouth.

You were close next to his side while chatting that evening, a romantic comedy playing unnoticed in the background.

He joked briefly about himself, something about his… size. You hardly recall what he’d exactly said about it, other than him remarking about how ‘large’ he is.

Your eyes widened at the words, and he smiled a bit at the reaction.

It’s rare he gets to see you flustered, and if an opportunity has presented itself he can’t help but use it.

“What? Does that rile you up a bit?” He’d smirked, green eyes trying to find yours.

“No!” You’d hissed, glancing at the TV.

“Why’d you go all shy then?”

“Because you’re talking about your dick, and I don’t wanna know!”

He laughed at your rushed response, “anyone would’ve thought you’d never seen one in your life.”

Your response is delayed, in all truth you had— briefly, an unwanted showing at a college party, one of your ‘friends’ drunkenly trying to get in your pants. He’d pretty much flashed you before you got the fuck out of there. So how much it counts, is more the part you were hardly sure about.

“Of course I have.” You’d said, trying with your all to sound convincing— like as if you’d done more than just see one.

But the energy had shifted the second you’d paused, and the words pouring out your mouth were not helping your case.

“Wait— have you not actually seen a dick bef—“ his brows were furrowed, lips quirked, still unsure how serious you were until you cut him off.

“God, no— yes— shut up!“ you’d cupped your hands over your eyes, wishing to go back and just laugh at his stupid joke instead of getting all flustered and ending up here.

“You haven’t?” He pushed a more little.

A sigh had pushed out your nose in defeat, “hardly.”

So now it leaves you here, staring anywhere but at him as he mutters a ‘no way’ to you.

You felt more than embarrassed, you were mortified at this point. You and Harry had been friends since your first year of primary school, so to have him find out something you have kept to yourself for so long and was so personal was terrifying.

Having never really covered this topic with you, he was undeniably curious, “so you’ve never touched one…?”

“You’re making this so much worse.” You scrunch your eyes closed.

“Ok… so that’s a no.” He laughs a little, and all you could do was nod. He nudges you with his shoulder. “Hey, yknow it’s ok right? M’not judging you or anythin’”

You take a careful glance to see his expression, it’s sincere and you take in a careful breath.

“I know. It’s embarrassing though.” You advert your gaze back to a thread on the soft fabric of your sweatpants.

“S’not embarrassing love, I was just surprised. You’re a gorgeous girl— y’know I think that— so I just assumed some guy was lucky enough to have been with you— intimately that is.” He says casually, then adding, “and y’ve had a few guys, so I just thought…”

Your stomach fluttered at his compliments, even though he never shied away from giving them to you.

“Those relationships never lasted long enough for us to, uh, get to that point.” You clarified, clearing your throat.

“I don’t wan’ you to feel uncomfortable, or like I forced you into talkin’ ‘bout it by the way.” He quickly clarifies, “jus’ was curious, is all.”

You find the courage to lock eyes with him again, “i wish I wasn’t so… inexperienced— I really do. But it’s beyond the point of awkward when people find out, you know?”

You were on a rant now, he’d officially opened the door to all your thoughts, “and now it’s like, I have no real way to learn. Unless I go out and hookup with a random, but I’m not desperate enough for that yet— nor comfortable with the idea.”

“And being a uh, a virgin this late in college is— not really common. So automatically people kind of get weird about it.”

He wished he could say the hardening of his cock was just from the fact they were talking about sex— and that he had been sticking to his hand for a while now— but he knew that the real reason was much more related to you, which he felt almost guilty about. You sitting here opening up and all his prick can think about is how gentle and unsure your hands would be around him.

Keyword being almost.

“Y’know you can always touch me… right?” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, a vague innuendo laying between each syllable.

“I- pardon?” You stuttered, uncertain if he meant what he just said in the way your brain had processed it.

“Like, if you ever want to learn or do anything. I’m here.”

Your eyes fell to his groin without a thought behind it, and you could see he was perked up in his sweats. He watched immediately as your gaze travelled down there.

“Just an offer. Don’t have t’take up on it now— or ever if y’don’t wan—“

In the few seconds of him talking you’d got a rush of confidence to do this. He’s practically handing himself to you on a silver plater.

“Can I?” The words were a fast question, a lingering hope behind them.

He almost groaned at them, the fact you were comfortable enough to be seemingly following through with his offer.

“‘Course you can, darling.”

You shuffled a little next to him, reaching to brush your hand over the fabric covering his groin, watching as he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You did it carefully, and your lips parted with a little gasp as his cock slipped out— he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

The tip of him was flushed to the same colour of his lips, and he wasn’t kidding about his size. At the base he had neatly trimmed hairs with a tiny curl to them.

You glanced back up at him, unsure what to do now. You almost had whiplash, because a minute ago you have never thought you’d see— let alone be able to touch his cock— and now you seem to have freedom to do whatever you please with it.

“S’alright darling, touch me however you want.” He reassured you, pressing his shoulder into you again. Solidifying the fact you really could do whatever you wanted with him.

Your hand hesitated a bit as you reached out to run a gentle finger on the underside of him.

Your hands were so fucking soft, softer than he even imagined, so he knew already this was going to kill him.

Going off the only kind of sexual experience you had— which is obviously with yourself— you didn’t want to be too gentle, so you wrapped your hand around the base of him and gave an experimental pump of his cock.

He groaned at the contact, not expecting it in the slightest. You were surprised at the sound that you’d just elicited from him, and the way he jutted his hips up to your touch.

“Fuck, sorry.” He carefully apologised, not wanting to scare you off. You were anything but scared though, more so fascinated, and frankly a bit turned on.

You said nothing as you continued to touch him, trailing your fingers up to the head of him. A small drop of precum seeping out.

He looks at you intently as you stare, “taste it, if y’want, love.”

With his prompt, you swipe your thumb gingerly across his tip, gathering up the few beads and lifting it to your lips.

It was a small portion, but he watched to see your micro-expressions at the taste. It was nice—really nice, in all honesty— compared to what you expected.

It was easy to see on your face you wanted more.

“Can I, uhm…” you paused, trying to figure out a way to word it, “taste you…?”

He pinched his eyes closed, running a hand through his now unruly hair. It was hard to control himself, he just wanted to pin you down and please you himself— thank you for making him feel so good already. Wrap his mouth around your probably puffy clit and make you come before he showed you what it feels like to be fucked.

Obviously he couldn’t do that. And not that he wanted to act like you were a delicate flower, but he was trying to keep you feeling comfortable— and that everything could progress at your pace.

“Jesus, love. ‘Course y’can.” He groaned, struggling to peel open his eyes.

“Can you tell me how you… how you like it? Show me even?” You ask, gently.

He shifts his hips, “Anything you give me I will like. But I can kind of direct you, tell you what feels good, I guess? If I can form a coherent thought with y’mouth ‘round me.”

You nod slowly, feeling the wetness gather between your thighs at his praise.

Deciding it would be easier, you slip off the couch onto your knees, placing yourself between his legs. You felt intimidated a little, the sight of his pulsing cock this close infront of you.

Yet still, you were salivating over it. Grateful you had a secure enough relationship to be able to do this. Especially with someone you felt so much for.

You glanced up at him, watching as he tracked your every move. He could’ve moaned aloud at your soft eyes looking up at him like that.

Your hand runs up his leg, resting to bracket the side of his thigh as you lean forward, gently kissing his tip.

A puff of air sounded from his lungs, egging you on just enough to keep going. You swept your tongue over the same spot you kissed, but trailing it down along his shaft.

You felt a little clueless as to what you were doing, in all honesty. So you glanced up, looking for a prompt on what to do next.

You wished it would just come to you naturally. Obviously in all the porn, they took the cock all the way down their throat, bobbing their heads and sucking like it was on their life. But you had no idea what your limits were, and how realistic half that shit is anyway.

“Sorry…” you muttered looking away, feeling your face flush with a tinge of embarrassment.

“God, Y/N. Don’t apologise, doing well for me baby. Just take me into your mouth, if you can.”

“Ok, I just want to make you feel good. So please tell me if I do something that has the opposite effect.” You sigh.

“I will, even though I highly doubt I’ll need too. Y’have such a nice mouth. Never knew it’d feel so good wrapped ‘round my cock.” He says this while cupping your cheek, and a part of you wants to just bend over and let him take you right there on the floor.

You never knew it could be like this. So open and filled with reassurance.

You lowered your lovely warm mouth back over him, sliding his tip past your lips, flattening your tongue on the underside of his smooth head.

“Fuck, so warm.” He whispers before continuing, “try and suck on me, hollow out those pretty little cheeks.”

You slide further down before you do, filling up your mouth with him, “don’t take more than you can handle sweet girl, use your hand for the rest.”

You nod around him when he says that, merely to show your taking his advice, but he groans loudly as you do.

So you do as he asks, wrapping your hand around what’s left of him and begin to suck.

He’s immediately lost in the sensation, digging warm fingers into the grey of the couch beneath him.

He can’t lie, you’re an attentive learner. You listen to the sounds he makes as you try something, like pulling your mouth all the way to the tip before gliding back down— or how you take note the way his body reacts with a shudder when you squeeze the base of his cock with your warm hand.

His directions are quickly falling away, into the back of his brain as you let your mouth explore his cock. It seems you’re fairing ok, now you’ve had proper encouragement.

You had been so in your head about making a mistake, now that you finally weren’t as worried about that, you could just focus on his body. Be intune with his reactions.

“Baby, you are so good at this.” He moans, driving his ass into the couch to keep from bucking up into your throat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the image of him fucking your throat comes to fruition, and he has to shove it away. Leave it as something to jerk off to later, when he starts to miss your hot mouth, which probably won’t take all that long.

“Told me y’never touched anyone like this before. Think that’s a lie, how good your little tongue is working me. Y’gonna have me coming soon.”

His words bring a flutter to your core, the way his accent is all husky from pleasure. Pleasure you’re giving him.

“Such a good girl f’me, hmm?” He asks, and you hum a yes. The vibration of it flys through his cock, constricting around his spine as he moans out.

He stares down at you, eyes glazed with pleasure. Spit is glistening around your chin, and no doubt when you pull off his cock will be coated in a thick layer of it.

“Christ, faster for me baby. Moan all around my dick.” His thoughts start to spill from his lips, and your brain lags trying to process how filthy they all are.

Not that you’re surprised he’s like this whatsoever, but to be hearing it with your own ears, and it to be directed toward you makes it a whole other ballgame.

“This mouth is mine.” He curses, and you dig your fingers into his thigh as you feel your cunt throb.

“All fuckin’ mine. Trained up just for me.” He groans, and you slip off him just enough to get a few words in.

“Yours, Harry. Please… pull my hair.” You plead, wrapping your mouth over him after a short second, quickly jumping back into the fast rhythm you’d built up.

“Fuck, not sure gonna be able to be gentle f’you if I do that, darling.” He hisses, clenching his fist, imagining your hair between it.

You whine around his cock, looking up at him, desperate for it.

At this point, you don’t care. He can be rougher. You pretty much have instilled every ounce of trust you have in him— which you had done prior to this, but especially now.

Your hand scrapes up his shirt, nails clawing at his taut abs, pleading for this.

He thinks he could almost just die, seeing your needy side quickly being unleashed per his undoing.

His resolve caves, his hand coming to nestle into the hair close to your scalp. You moan at the feeling of it merely being there, his cock pulsing on your tongue.

“More dirty than I ever could’ve thought, Y/N. Wanting me to pull your hair like this, begging. M’trying to be gentle with you— making it so hard for me.”

You suck harder, and he sticks to his word of being careful, his hand tight around your hair— but never forcing you down.

Even though you don’t think you would have minded if he did, he was clearly getting close.

“Love, shit!” His legs were shaking, and his face was flushed a gorgeous pink.

“You’re gon’ make me come.” He grunted, “Hard.”

He told you this so you could pull off, maybe finish him with your hand or something. But you didn’t budge, you just kept sucking and sliding your perfect tongue all over him.

He couldn’t imagine finishing this fast with anyone else but you. Your messy, virgin mouth making him nothing short of a train wreck.

“Y/N, baby, I’m— holy fucking shit—“ you squeezed his balls in you hand, and he was hurtling toward his high.

“If you don’t pull off I’m, god, god I’m gonna come down your throat.” He rushes out, whole body ready to snap.

You don’t budge, you take as much of his dick as you can, wanting to feel his warm come shoot into your mouth.

The second he realised you wanted him to finish in your mouth was the same second he felt an indescribable pleasure hit him.

His jaw dropped, and stomach muscles clenched so hard he would’ve keeled over if he was standing up.

You pulled back. Hand coming to stroke where your mouth had left. But you kept his tip in, which was still spurting his come, placed on you tongue.

It coated it, dripping down onto your bottom lip and chin. And just the sight of it would be enough to get him off for the next 5 years.

His Y/N, his best friend, who he not even 10 minutes ago found out was a virgin, had just taken his load half down her throat and half smeared all over her tongue.

“Fuck me, baby. That is so unbelievably hot.” He almost whined, completely out of breath.

“Rub it in with my cock. Then swallow it, love.” He said, watching as you immediately did so, coating your tongue with him.

“Such a good girl. Swallow.”

You did that too. Placing a little kiss on his thigh after, and standing up.

Your knees felt a little weak, and you sat down next to him again.

He reaches over, kissing you without shame of where your mouth just was.

His hand slipped to your waistband of your probably soaked-through sleep shorts, and you halted it, “You don’t have to, Harry.”

“I know love, I want too though. But if you don’t, then that’s ok.” He caresses your hip.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking. You do. But at the same time, maybe not just yet.

Despite what just unfolded on his living room couch, you still feel almost shy. Not ready.

“Maybe not yet… that was— it was a lot. And very unplanned.” You purse your lips, worried he’ll be offended or something.

“Of course, darling.” He scoots his hand away, laying it on your cheek instead.

“We’ll take it at whatever pace you want.” He smiles, kissing a quick peck onto your lips.

“How about, i turn that off,” he gestures to the TV, “‘n we go cuddle?”

“That sounds great, H. Thank you. For everything.”

He chuckles, plucking his sweatpants from the floor and slipping them over his legs, “I should be thanking you. Thank you for trusting me. And for giving me probably the best orgasm I’ve had in ages.”

You flush, harder than you’d like to admit. Maybe this won’t be a bad impulsive arrangement after all.

———

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