#THIS IS 7.2K WORDS LONG TF

[floral-force]

Breakfast in Bed

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: Simon, the man you met at the bar and kissed good-bye, stays true to his word and visits you the next morning. Little do you know, you've been on his mind as much as he's been on yours, and he wants to devour you.

words: 7.2k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY. piv (unprotected), praise kink, pet names, very light consensual choking, d/s undertones (barely), ghost is def an ass and thigh man and you can't change my mind, fluff, banter, a cute ending

a/n: this is a long-awaited part 2 to american hospitality! it can be read as a standalone, but I highly recommend reading AH just for the ambience and more sexy, flirtatious banter (and drunk tf 141)!

masterlist | read on ao3 | taglist

You woke up with a groan, rolling over onto your side. A bright ringtone blared in your ears and sucker punched your hungover brain; you must’ve drunkenly set a morning alarm last night. So, you snatched your phone off your bedside table to silence the offensive, repetitive notes, but paused when you saw that it wasn’t an alarm at all—it was Simon, calling you.

You quickly answered the call and cleared your hoarse throat. “Hello?”

There was an amused rumble on the other end. “Had a good night, did’ya?”

“With no thanks to you,” you jabbed, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes. 

“Not gonna show a little appreciation to the man who paid your tab, love?”

“Not when my head hurts this fuckin’ bad,” you groaned, fingers rubbing your temple as you clutched the phone and held it close to your ear. 

Even if his deep voice was a bit tinny through the phone, you wanted to hear every single syllable, hear every single breath. That was one thing you wouldn’t forget—the way Simon had held your waist in his large hands and bent his head to talk into your ear, pushing the blaring bar music aside so he could heat your skin with every dulcet innuendo. His delicious British accent would haunt your ears for years to come; you don’t think you’d ever forget it.

Simon clicked his tongue. “That isn’t very hospitable of you, is it, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip and smiled, suppressing a girlish giggle at the way the pet name sounded rolling off his tongue. “Maybe not,” you shrugged, opening your eyes and staring up at the ceiling, “but I hope you can forgive me.”

“If you ask nicely, baby, I’ll consider it.”

You sucked in a breath. This Brit had you horny at ten in the goddamn morning. You hadn’t even had a sip of the Pedialyte stocked in your fridge for gnarly hangovers like the one slowly rearing its ugly head as you woke up more and more. 

Simon said your name. “Hm? Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Good girl,” Simon purred. You could hear the smile on his lips as you shakily exhaled, rubbing your thighs together after a needy pulse from your cunt. “When will I see your gorgeous face today?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “It’s a ‘when’?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear with th’kiss I gave you before you got in the Uber.”

Your fingers graced over your parted lips. How could you have forgotten that magical, drunken moment? It almost felt like a dream; too good to be true; except it was, and Simon was there, facing you as your friends and his laughed under the streetlights. Simon was there, and he was gripping your waist, large fingers tracing up the back of your skull as you watched him lift the edge of his balaclava up just enough to meet your waiting lips with his. You remembered tasting vodka and sugar and a hint of smoke as he coaxed your lips open to swipe his tongue across yours before pulling back slowly, staring down at you with heady brown eyes.

Another low, satisfied rumble in your ear as you struggled to respond. “So, when am I meeting you at your flat, love?”

“Shit, what time is it—ten?” 

“A quarter past, yeah.”

You rubbed your bleary eyes. “Gimme, like, half an hour. I need water and Pedialyte.”

“I’ve got’ya covered there, pretty girl.”

“What d’you mean?” you asked, your brow furrowed.

“I mean—”

You nearly screamed when your door creaked open, sitting upright as a pale elbow pushed it open to reveal familiar broad shoulders and mischievous brown eyes. One hand held a phone to a red-tinged ear and the other curled around a plastic Pedialyte bottle, its pink liquid and condensation a bright contrast against the tattooed forearm and the black shirt and dark denim jeans leaving little to the imagination about the toned body underneath.

“—I’ve got it, sweetheart. Don’ even have t’lift a pretty little finger.”

You were too stunned to speak, lowering your phone to your lap as Simon stepped into your room. It took him only a few wide strides to reach your bedside—this was the one and only time you’d be grateful for your small room. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and stared down at you, the rest of his pale skin below his eyes hidden by a black fabric mask looped around his ears. His neck was exposed, and if it weren’t for your dehydration, you’d be lunging for it. Instead, you stared back at him, narrowing your eyes.

“You have blond hair,” you commented, kicking yourself for letting the stupid observation slip out.

The corners of his eyes creased with a hidden smile. “Figured I’d let it see the Chicago sun at least once before I leave.”

Your mattress dipped with his weight when he sat at the foot of your bed, back curved as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. You crossed your legs under your comforter and gave him a smile, leaning forward and running your fingers through the short, sandy strands. He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning his head back just enough for you to notice, even with sleep still clouding your eyes and your head spinning—from one too many vodka crans or arousal, you couldn’t tell. 

“I like it, Simon.”

His eyes fluttered open—such a delicate movement for such an imposing man—and stared at you as you gave his head one last pet before withdrawing and taking the Pedialyte. You opened it and dramatically sighed in relief before taking a long gulp, the sticky-sweet fluid a balm to the consequences of your actions, but not to the heat pooling in your belly. There was only one thing that could fix that—well, four things, to be exact. You’d fallen asleep thinking about i 

“Fuck, that’s good.” You sighed. “Do you have this across the pond?”

“Across the bloody pond, fuckin’ hell.” Simon mocked you, and you gave his muscular bicep a playful shove. He let his body sway with it, shaking his head. “No, but we’ve Dioralyte.”

“Maybe I’ll try it someday,” you said, taking another sip.

He shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, love, maybe.” 

Simon’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, the hand on his thigh wandering over to rest on the mountain your knee created poking up under the comforter. You licked your lips and ran a finger over his tattooed forearm, stroking up and down, gently scratching your fingernail across the inked skin, inching down past his wrist and over one of the bulging veins on the back of his hand. It was almost enough to make you forget about the way the room spun around his head and the somber tone of his response.

You shook your head and scooted closer, careful not to jostle the half-empty bottle. His warm hand snaked up your covered thigh, and you were able to smell the smoke and vetiver wafting off his body and able to see amber flecks glinting in his curious eyes. He was intoxicating, and you needed to drink as much as you could before he was gone for good. Simon was intimidating and commanding; but the blush sneaking up towards his eyes, and the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek with each pass of your fingers through his short hair exposed something tender under his brooding brow. There was something soft in Simon despite the skull jaw printed on the black fabric mask encircling his head and neck below dour brown eyes. 

But now was not the time to poke and prod, to try to stab at the chinks in Simon’s armor. 

No. Right now, you needed to wash your face, drink some water, and figure out what to do about the wetness between your legs.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. You walked your index and middle fingers up Simon’s arm, starting the playful journey at his wrist as you spoke. “What did you have in mind for today?”

“You’re not going t’ask how I got in your flat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shook your head as your index finger stepped over the bend of his arm, your middle finger landing on his thick bicep. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“I could be a murderer, sweetheart.”

“At least you’d be a hot one.”

He tutted at your coy indifference. “Thought you Chicagoans were keen to threats.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” you breathed, your fingers reaching their destination—the edge of his mask. Your nose was inches from where his lifted the fabric covering it, your head spinning with lust and not your hangover, shifting your left side down to set the Pedialyte on the floor so you could place your hand on his chest and feel his heart hammering under your palm.

“You are a goddamn minx, love, fuck,” Simon rasped, his right hand wrapping around the side of your neck, the tips of his fingers trailing up past your hairline, the heel of his palm ghosting over your esophagus. Your blood pulsed through your jugular as he leaned in closer, his black pupils blown as he stared you down. You closed your eyes and shakily exhaled, your heart skipping a beat as the fingers pressing into your left thigh tugged the comforter down, bunching it up at your knee. You couldn’t hold back the quiet, needy sigh when his warm hand touched your bare thigh and squeezed the fat of it, massaging it under his palm as he inched towards the bend of your hip and the edge of your pink panties. 

Simon leaned in and the fabric mask brushed against your hot cheek as he purred into your ear, “You have no idea what I want to fuckin’ do t’you, pretty girl.”

You gently shook your head, sharply inhaling as the hand around your neck slid down to rest over your breast, his middle and index fingers catching on the stretched hem of the oversized shirt covering it.

“You’re right, Simon, I don’t.” You mimicked his movement, dropping your hand over the crotch of his jeans, smirking when you felt his erection under your palm, stroking up his length where it strained against his jeans. Your breath hitched at the sound of Simon’s throaty groan. 

“Bloody hell, baby,” Simon murmured, pulling back and cupping your cheek, his left fingers toying at the hem of your panties, “you’re fuckin torturin’ me.”

“Sorry, I’m not giving you the warm Chicago welcome I promised last night,” you smirked. “But it is very American of me to give a British man a hard time.”

The double entendre made Simon shake his head and chuckle. “When will you Yanks let that shite go?”

“When pigs fly,” you bit your lip and giggled, “or when you fuck me so good I can’t remember how many colonies you lost a war to.”

“I’ll do far more than that, love.”

“Yeah? Prove it, British boy,” you teased.

You gasped when Simon pushed you back into the mattress, your head landing on your pillow, your eyes fixed on the chestnut ones glaring down at you. You kicked the comforter down and off your legs, shivering when the cold air whipped against your bare skin and shivering at the way Simon was looking at you, something dark and hungry lurking behind his eyes and waiting to strike, waiting to hit you with something that only he could give to you.

“You really want me to, pretty girl?” he asked, his growl laced with uncertainty.

You nodded emphatically, reaching up to wrap your right hand around his left bicep, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt to leave crescent indentations on his skin. You wanted to leave marks all over him, wanted to let everyone know that the Chicago girl he fucked was as feisty as her city, wanted them to know he’d had the best pussy of his life in the windy city.

“I want—I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You smiled at the needy word that slipped out of his seductive mouth. “Yes, Simon.” You snaked your other hand under the hem of his shirt, splaying your fingers over his defined abs and parting your lips at the way he groaned. “I need you to give me the best cock of my life.”

A moan slipped out of his mouth, the whine filling the late morning air as sunlight illuminated his tawny hair. “So certain it’ll be th’best, are you?”

“I dare you to prove me wrong.”

His eyes snapped open, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes creasing with a devilish smile. “I plan to, pretty girl.”

You laughed when he flipped you over, his strength startling and thrilling you. Your panties were soaked, your cunt pulsing with need—need that had been delayed for far too long. You lifted your ass into the air with your knees and settled down onto your forearms, spreading your knees a little further apart, ready for whatever may come. You turned your head and pressed your right cheek into your pillow, closing your eyes and sighing as you let yourself begin to fall down the rabbit hole of pleasure that had been teasing you since he’d barged into your room earlier. 

The mattress lifted when he stood with a huff. You heard the old wood floor squeak under his heavy steps, the scratch of denim being forced to the ground, the hurried toss of fabric on the ground. 

He breathed your name. The mattress gently dipped behind your feet. “Fuckin’ hell, look at you.”

You yelped when Simon’s calloused hands grabbed your waist and tugged you to the foot of the bed, your feet dangling off the duvet. He gruffly tugged your shirt up to your neck with both hands, exposing your torso to the chilly apartment air. He ran his large hands down your bare spine absentmindedly with a rumbly, deep sigh, the sound and touch making you shiver. His hand landed on your hip, stroking up and down over the thin fabric barrier hiding your hot skin from him.

“Was thinking about this all goddamn night,” he mumbled lowly, his fingers tugging at the elastic band of your panties.

“Me too,” you breathed, neediness edging your voice.

You arched your back, twisting your neck to get a glimpse of the masked man. Your eyes met his for a moment before they flicked down to take in his toned body, his defined muscles like that of a god’s in the morning light. You ached to run your tongue along every crevice, gently drag your fingers down his sternum and sashay them across his impressive abs, murmur sweet nothings into his pale skin. 

“That’s it, love, arch that back for me, show me that gorgeous arse of yours.” His hands jiggled your ass as you did as told, and he hummed in approval. “There y’go, good girl.”

His purred praise and needy groans as you settled into a deeper arch made your walls quiver. As much as you wanted to lavish Simon with your own devotion, you were content to be at his command. For now, you were content to simper and sigh as he ran his hot hands up and down the sides of your torso, following the curve of your body and squeezing the skin and fat under his fingers. For now, you were content to give in to Simon’s desires, because you knew that the lust that filled his head also filled yours; the heady desire that made his cock throb also made your cunt pulse.

You gasped and scrunched your eyes closed when he clapped a hand onto the fat of your one of your cheeks, playfully huffing when he let out an amused chuckle. He forcefully exhaled and clicked his tongue.

“You are a goddamn minx, love,” he growled, the floor squeaking underneath his words. You jumped when you felt his hot exhale against the back of your sensitive thighs—he’d taken off his mask, you realized. He slapped your other cheek, kneading the meat in his hand as he exhaled in awe. “Christ, look at this fuckin’ thing.”

You giggled, pleased with the maskless exhale and with the admiration lacing Simon’s deep voice. “You like it?”

“Like it?” he asked incredulously. 

Simon chuckled and yanked your panties down to your knees. He desperately worked them off your legs and then spread your knees a little farther apart, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. His ragged, hot pants against the suddenly sensitive skin of your left ass cheek made you shudder—he’d taken off the mask. Your fists curled into the duvet, and you bit your lip as Simon pressed a fingertip against the top of your mound, then hissed as he delicately stroked it down the seam of your folds. The care he took to avoid touching your soaked sex drove you wild, sent shocks down your vertebrae, made a delicious heat gather in your gut, and you heard an embarrassing whine slip out of your swollen lips and fill the room.

“Oh, baby girl,” he crooned, pressing a burning kiss into the back of your left thigh under the curve of your ass, “I fuckin’ love it.”

Your proud chuckles were cut short when his thumbs pushed into your folds and spread them open. His tongue licked a sloppy circle around your dripping entrance and his fingers dug into the bottom of your cheeks as you rocked your hips back to experience more of his hot mouth. The fact that he was tall enough to kneel and still be able to eat you out made you go slack-jawed; what else was he capable of doing with size alone? Simon’s nose nudged into your crack and you whimpered the rest of your coherent thoughts away into the duvet when he nudged the tip of his tongue into your aching hole, jumping at the sensation.

He pulled away and released his thumbs, wet lips smirking against your thighs when you whined and pushed your ass back, silently begging for more.

“I knew your cunt would taste delicious,” he groaned, suddenly licking a quick stripe across your hole. “It’s jus’ begging for me t’fuck it.”

Simon continued his quick, teasing ministrations, lavishing your soaking core with his deft tongue. The man took his time, winding you up with each sudden suck on your folds and making you simper whenever on obscene slurp filled the air. He had you nearly howling as the morning light began to shift and heat your already-scorching skin with its rays. Your bones softened with every bit of praise murmured into your slick and sweaty center; each accented and heady “good girl” was a promise of even more sweet nothings yet to come from his wet British lips. Your head snapped up as he abruptly pressed the pad of his thumb against your hardened clit, drawing circles with delicious pressure that had your core tightening and begging for the sweet release Simon had been building up within you with every swipe of his tongue.

“F-fuck, Simon—” you hissed as his tongue nudged into your quivering entrance once again, cutting you off—“baby, please don’t stop.”

You heard him groan and felt the vibrations against your sensitive, swollen folds. “I don’t intend to,” he mumbled, his thumb never slowing and his other hand’s fingers kneading your thigh. “I feel you gettin’ close, pretty girl. Whenever you’re ready, I want you to cum on my fuckin’ tongue.”

You whimpered and shook at his statement, moaning as he continued to fervently lick your cunt, driving you towards that heavenly edge with determined circles and stripes. You noticed yourself languidly rocking your hips, adding a new, delectable motion to the drawings on your clit. Simon kept murmuring your name and nodding his head with muffled praise—“So fuckin’ good for me, such a pretty girl, fuckin’ stunning”—as your whines increased in pitch and volume. 

Your thighs tensed and your core tightened, your hole clenching as you whispered, “Simon—fuck—I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, lovely, I want this cunt wet an’ ready for me,” Simon growled into your cunt, punctuating his command with furious laps and twists of his tongue.

You repeated your last three words over and over, his dulcet moans harmonizing with them as the holy refrain crescendoed into a glorious orgasm that made you shake and grit your teeth and pant his name. All the while, Simon slowly circled his tongue around your dripping hole, moaning and slipping his thumb off your clit and gliding it slowly up and down your saliva-slick seam. 

You shivered and squirmed at the stimulation, and he pulled back with a low, amused exhale, pressing a wet kiss onto your sweaty thigh as you began to come down from your heavenly high.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” Simon mumbled. “I bet you feel even fuckin’ better.” 

His hands curled around the front of your thighs before sliding back and up over the curve of your ass. You took one last shuddering breath as the floor creaked with his movement, and jumped when you felt his hard, hot cock rest above your crack. From this position alone, you immediately knew this man’s cock was going to destroy you, and your cunt quivered in anticipation of the tight squeeze.

You hummed and sighed. “Your tongue was fucking incredible,” you panted, wiggling your ass against his length, wet and loose and ready for him. 

“Best you ever had, love?”

You nodded emphatically, twisting your head back around to try to give him a satisfied smile. You could only see the left half of his face with the awkward and sharp twist in your neck, but you did manage to catch the corner of his pink lips quirking up into a smile, his ivory cheek flushed pink. You got a glimpse of the bridge of his nose—straight and sharp, a perfect companion to his focused brown eyes. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

“Absolutely, daddy,” you added cheekily, noticing his eyebrow raise.

Simon hummed in approval and chuckled, bending down and pressing his warm skin against yours, placing his right hand on the back of your head. Now, the features were a bit clearer as he tilted his head to the left—the sharp, angular jawline; that strong, straight nose; those thin pink lips that were swollen with arousal. 

“Keep callin’ me that, and you won’t be able t’move when I’m done with you, love,” Simon crooned, petting the back of your head as his tangy breath filled your nostrils, your juices still coating his tongue and lips.

“That’s the idea,” you replied with a giggle, batting your lashes. “I wanted that from the beginning, daddy.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a wry smile as your eyes gorged themselves on his unique facial structure, cutting off your visual feast with a teasing thrust that sent his thick cock between your legs and pressing up against your sensitive folds. You nudged your knees apart a few more inches and readjusted your back, lengthening and stretching it. You settled back into a deep arch with a mischievous shake of your ass accompanying the movement. Now, you could only hope this new angle would allow his thick cock to slide deep inside your slick cunt.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me, love,” he rasped, running a knuckle gently down your temple to the middle of your cheek. You closed your eyes and smiled coyly, biting your lip and wiggling as you folded your arms underneath your head. Simon’s warm hand dragged up the curve of your back and came to rest on your hip, the other wrapping around his cock, his knuckles pushing up between your folds and into your slick heat. You whined when he swiped the fat head of his cock against your dripping entrance, huffing at his mirthful chuckles.

“What, does my baby need this cock?” Simon purred. You nodded, and he clicked his tongue, tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Use your words, darling. Daddy can’t hear you.”

His words made the walls of your pussy quiver and pulse, his deep voice penetrating under your skin and tickling your brain and clit at the same time. The man was making you fuck-drunk already and he hadn’t even notched the head of his cock inside your needy hole yet. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, all shame about your pathetic whines gone and replaced with a burning desire to be claimed. You were breathless as you panted, “P-please, Simon—I need your cock s-so fucking bad.” 

“That’s my girl,” Simon hummed, tapping your cheek and then withdrawing his hand to place it on your ass, fingers digging into the meat of it and making you hiss as he dragged his head up and down your seam, circling over your clit and cruelly nudging at your needy entrance. The sudden and subtle rough kneading and pressure hinted at his growing need, and you shivered at the thought of what was to come.

All the air was expelled from your lungs and your fingers dug into the duvet when he forced his thick length inside of you with a sharp thrust and grunt. Both of his large hands grabbed the fat of your hips as he rocked his, nudging himself deeper with each languid roll. A cry got caught in your throat as you felt your cunt clench around him and suck him in for more. Simon obliged, moaning your name as he bottomed out.

“You take me so fuckin’ good, baby girl,” Simon groaned, inhaling sharply along with you when he pushed in just a little more so his head could gently kiss your cervix.

He dug his fingernails into your skin as he slowly pulled out, holding you in place when you unconsciously followed his movement so he wouldn’t leave you empty and needy. You whined and cried and wiggled, but you were held still by his large, warm hands as he pulled out completely, leaving your pussy gaping and clenching around nothing. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” Simon mumbled as he gently eased your lifted ass and arched back forward so you could rise to your hands and await his cock on all fours. He traced a thick thumb around your gaping hole and snickered at your needy whimper. He gently flicked his thumb up and gathered some of the arousal leaking out of your throbbing center, then swirled it around your slick inner folds and hole. “Your cunt’s already cryin’ for me and I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.”

The mattress dipped on your left; looking down, you saw a muscular leg settling in near your waist as Simon urged you to crawl up a bit towards your pillows with a playful tap on your ass. A few seconds later, Simon’s right leg moved the mattress and his muscular thigh brushed against yours. You shivered when Simon’s bare torso fell upon your back, his searing skin colliding with yours. He had caged you in, trapped you underneath his broad, toned body and in his strong arms. You were at his mercy, stuck in the storm, and entirely helpless as he growled and groped you, his hot hands traveling up your soft torso to massage your breasts.

“Then do it already, Simon,” you urged, your pent-up lust infecting your tongue and tone. “Take me, daddy, please.” 

“Jus’ wanna play with my pretty doll a little bit first,” Simon husked. When you groaned in frustration, he shushed you and kissed the back of your head. “Patience, love. Daddy’s gonna take care of his doll soon enough.”

You rolled your head back when he bit into your shoulder and rolled your hardened nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers. Simon soothed the nip with a soft kiss you didn’t think he was capable of before his left hand gently curled around your neck, his hand hovering, waiting for your consent or denial. With a huff, you quickly lifted a hand and pressed his shaking hand against your throat and grinned when he groaned and pulled you up to your knees and into his chest, his cock nestling itself between your folds and brushing against your sensitive clit. Simon’s right hand was splayed across your waist, his fingers trailing over your right ribs as his left wrapped around your neck effortlessly. 

You closed your eyes and leaned back, giving him control as you raised your left arm over your head to find his and thread your fingers through his hair. A tangled moan escaped Simon’s throat at your touch, and you smiled. Yes, he was big and bad and built like a god, but you could bring him to his knees just by petting his soft hair. The strangled cry returned when you slipped your other hand down to where his cock bobbed up against your slick folds and graced your fingertips up the shaft and along the fat head’s weeping slit. 

“You’re driving me fucking mad,” he growled into your temple.

“Now you know how I fuckin’ feel,” you quipped, earning a playful pinch in your side that made you giggle and squirm in his firm grasp.

He hummed and moaned your name as you kept teasing his throbbing cock with your featherlight touches. In retaliation, he gave your neck a gentle squeeze, then settled his thumb and first two fingers over the pulsing veins on the sides of your neck. The pads of his fingers pressed into your jugulars, and the arch of his hand came to softly rest over your trachea to enhance the heady rush that you got from being choked. The pulsing, breathless desire was even more delicious since the man behind the hand was incredibly hot and rocking his hips up and brushing the leaking head of his cock over your sensitive bud, smearing precum over it with the help of your fingertips. 

“You are beyond perfect,” he declared, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I wanna look at your gorgeous face while I destroy you.”

Your cunt throbbed and you nodded enthusiastically, swirling needy circles over your burning clit.

“Would my baby girl like that?” Simon asked with a squeeze. 

You nodded and he released you, a sly chuckle in your ear right before he flipped you down to the mattress on your back, your tits bouncing from the impact as you giggled and tried to grab at his arms with your eyes closed. Your bedframe creaked in protest underneath Simon’s deep, amused hum, but you had a feeling he was going to leave it with a perpetual creak—or just break it entirely.

When you opened your eyes, you took in the man staring down at you as he stroked his cock with his left hand, the muscles under his tattooed left arm rippling with each restrained stroke. Simon’s brown irises were black and blown with lust and need, his cheeks pink like his swollen, thin lips that curled into a smug smile. You made a note to kiss his strong jawline and find out just how sharp it is while running a hand through his tawny hair and clawing at his thick pecs with the other. 

The morning was in full bloom, its bright light illuminating the sweaty dew on Simon’s chest and forehead. Simon stared down at you and let his hand wander all over your body as one of yours worked needy circles around your clit. He shook his head and spit in his palm, and your lips parted as he wet his cock with it before placing his hands by your ears, caging you in. He nudged your legs further apart with his knees, the head of his cock teasing your throbbing entrance. Simon’s hungry eyes never strayed from yours, even when you closed your eyes and begged him to fill you again.

“You’re a needy little thing,” he muttered into your cheek, the chain of his dog tags brushing across your chin as the tags fell flat in the divot between your clavicles. 

“Please,” you breathed, driving your body down to try to notch him inside of you, but he just clicked his tongue and moved along, denying you the relief you craved. “Stop teasing, daddy.”

Simon drew back and pinched your chin between his fingers. “Such a whiny girl.”

You rolled your eyes, the Chicago fire within you blazing to the surface. “I wouldn’t whine if you just gave me what I want.” 

Simon raised an eyebrow, curious and amused. His hand wrapped around your throat, and he applied a little more of that exciting pressure than he had before, your lips splitting into a grin. He shook his head and released your neck, spitting into his palm and then slipping his hand between your bodies. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you, princess?” 

“And what’re you gonna do about it, daddy?”

Simon tilted his head and smiled sardonically down at you. Before you could tease him for his silence, two of his thick fingers forced themselves inside of you, twisting and pumping in and out. You jumped and cried out, digging your nails into his forearms. He repeated your name three times with a condescending tone, chastising you as your pussy squelched with each delicious pump of his fingers. 

It was embarrassing how close you already were to a second orgasm, but the shame disappeared when Simon leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You parted after a few seconds, only to catch each other’s swollen lips once again in a hungry, sloppy kiss as his fingers continued to work you open in preparation for his throbbing length. Simon’s thumb began to press circles into your clit as his fingers curled in and out of your clenching cunt, making you moan into his mouth with each pass of his fingertips over that hidden sensitive spot inside your cunt. 

Simon pulled away and gave you devilish smile, his lips wet with saliva. 

“I think I’m gonna fuck that American attitude right out of you, lovely.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

He kissed you and withdrew his fingers, leaving you achingly empty again. Your whine was quickly replaced with a heady sigh as he rubbed circles around your clit again with his cock. He dropped to rest his left forearm on the mattress, his sweaty abs brushing against your damp skin, his eyes locked on yours. 

“You are so fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he murmured, his hand wrapping around the top of your skull as he pressed a needy kiss into your wet lips.

It was while your mouth was occupied that he slid inside of you, making you gasp and grab at his shoulders. He raised himself up off his left forearm—damn, this man was strong—and planted his right hand next to your ear again as he slowly rocked his hips. His strokes slowly went deeper and deeper; Simon was playing with you like you were his own personal doll—and part of you didn’t hate that thought as you met his eyes and felt your heart skip a beat at the way he was looking at you with lust-blown pupils and a determined brow, his lips slightly parted for hot breaths to escape and blow across your dampening forehead. 

Simon was a god in the bright morning light, illuminated and sparkling. But with the way he set his intense gaze on you, the way he stared at your body with reverence, how he worshipped your wet, throbbing pussy with every fluid stroke, you’d think that he was the servant, and you the goddess whose altar he devoted his life to tending. Your name was like a sacred hymn to him; he choked and held back until your pussy began to spasm ahead of your building orgasm, and then he sang it out, filling your room with his musical moans.

You dug your nails into his carved shoulders, gripping him for dear life as you bent your knees and moved them up. Simon pulled out with a growl and then straightened, grabbing your thighs and yanking you towards him so your ass was in his hands.

“Put your legs up on m’shoulder—that’s it, good girl,” Simon husked. 

He pressed a kiss to your knee and notched the head of his cock at your soaked hole. He shook his head and gave you a soft smile—yet another thing you didn’t think he was capable of, but maybe the mask and tough exterior had you fooled—as he stroked your cheek. 

“You feel amazing inside of me, Simon,” you sighed, smiling back up at him. “I’m literally about to cum again.”

He seemed to perk up at that. “Is that so, princess?” 

You nodded, and he kneaded your ass before leaning over you and planting his hands by your shoulders. You let your legs fall open a bit more as his cock slipped inside of your aching cunt, a tease of what was to come.

“I want you to ruin me,” you pleaded, raking your hands up and down his sweaty back.

“Keep your eyes open while I do it then, pretty girl.” Simon shifted and pressed a kiss to your shin with a wink. “And tell me when you’re goin’ to cum again for me, princess.”

You nodded, then let your mouth fall open as he thrusted into your needy cunt, bottoming out with a groan. Simon began to fuck into you, his hips slamming into the fat of your ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air along with the dirty symphony of moans and whimpers. You did as told, your eyes never leaving his as he fucked you without mercy. The muscles in his back flexed and strained underneath your hands as he began to speed up, his erratic pace and rhythm revealing how needy he really was under the surface. 

He tilted your ass up a little bit and you cried out, scrunching your eyes closed as your abdomen tightened and fire began to spread throughout your cunt.

“Si-Sim-Simon, fuck! I’m gonna fucking cum!” You shouted and licked your index and middle fingertips, then started to rub furious circles around your clit, the fire of your orgasm about to engulf you.

“Oh, good fuckin’ girl,” Simon groaned. “Look at me, baby, keep those eyes open.”

You blinked your eyes open and were met with a proud smile from Simon as he continued to pound into your squelching cunt and slam into your cervix.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he purred.

You whined and rubbed your fingers around your white-hot clit even faster, your circles turning into furious swipes from side to side as Simon’s thick cock split you open. All you could do as your climax began to burn you up was stare into his eyes and whimper and moan in absolute pleasure. Your entire body was heavy with arousal and lust, but you somehow started to curl up off the bed as your abdominal muscles tightened in preparation for the eventual scorching fire.

“Go on, love, cum for me—make daddy so fuckin’ proud,” he coaxed, gritting his teeth as his own orgasm started to approach. “You can do it, princess, y’look so fuckin’ beautiful when you do—”

You cut his praise off with a shout of his name as your orgasm burnt you alive, and Simon immediately followed you off the fiery cliff with a thundering moan and one last, sharp thrust as he filled your spasming pussy with his spend. For a little while, all you could do was twitch and take deep, shuddering breaths as your orgasm continued to pulse through your cunt. Simon was hunched over you, a few drops of sweat landing on your sticky skin as you finally gathered the strength to wipe your sweaty brow with a shaking hand.

You slowly lowered your upper back and head back down to the mattress and wiggled your toes; your orgasm was so intense that you’d curled up and were still shaking from the force of it. Simon shuddered when he pulled out of you, giving you a concerned look when you winced in pain. 

You gave him a reassuring smile and sat up. “I’m okay. I’m just—ah—” you winced as you swung your legs to the side of the bed and stood up on wobbly feet— “gonna be sore for a day.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“I was going to—erm—” Simon cleared his throat and rolled his neck out before continuing. “I was going t’ask if you’d be so kind as to take me around on a tour of the city.”

You grinned, plopping back down and ignoring the sharp pang from the impact of your sore, leaking cunt against the mattress. You looked into Simon’s brown eyes, finding something a little shy. It was endearing, even if you knew that today would be the last time you’d ever see him.  Realistically, nothing could come of this—an international hook-up caused by a spilled drink—but you’d try your best not to think about that while showing Simon around Chicago. Instead, you’d try to focus on how he scrutinizes everyone around him, how he could potentially make taking the city’s public transit easier, and how you could maybe get to hold his hand if you play your cards right.

He called your name, snapping you out of your somber thoughts. Simon was standing now, tugging on his underwear as the sun lit his toned body up and made your spent pussy throb again when your eyes landed on his perfectly illuminated bulge.

“So?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“As your unofficial Chicago ambassador—” 

“S’you’re an ambassador because you took a mingin’ shot with me?” 

“Yes. Hush.” You stood and closed the short distance between you both, shivering when he wrapped his warm arm around your still-bare body without hesitation. You looked up at him and took a breath. “As I was saying, since I’m you’re Chicago ambassador, it would be my honor to be your tour guide, Simon.”

“I don’ think I’d be able t’find one prettier than you, love.”

Simon bent his head down and tilted it, his nose inches from yours. You felt your cheeks grow warm and your heart skipped a beat when he lifted your chin up with his fingers, the tip of his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. Now, with a less-clouded head and vision untainted by sex, you could see the finer details of his skin—a jagged scar a few inches long stretching up his cheek starting at the edge of his upper lip on the left, two tiny, brown dots right below the curve of his right eyebrow, a fine line in his forehead from age or stress—and appreciate it fully in the clear light of the morning.

“There are plenty of girls in Chicago,” you murmured, trying not to get lost in Simon’s handsome features or swept away in his arms.

He shook his head and parted his lips slightly. You moved closer to him and brushed your nose against his and placed a hesitant hand on his broad, muscular chest.

“There’s only one American lass that I want,” Simon insisted. He looked into your eyes and his lips brushed against yours as he whispered, “You.”

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a/n: it felt so good to finish this after being blocked for so long. I hope you enjoyed; please reblog if you did, it's how us creators get exposure!

taglist: @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations @oliviagreenaway @johfaam0 @sofasoap

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fic #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod fic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty fic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley #my fic

[th84u]

title: a cup of red wine

fic type: one shot [god’s among us collab]

pairing: dionysus! hongjoong x fem! hades reader

genre: fluff, major angst, strangers to friends to strangers, also ft persephone! seonghwa, poseidon! yunho, zeus! mingi, nymphs! woosan, grim reaper! jongsang

warning: a lot of sarcasm and angst. that’s the only way to go. mentions and consumption of alcohol (literally based off the title), sex, profanities; a lot of mythology inaccuracies

summary: the bittersweet aftertaste of red wine lingers on your tongue, imprinted in you forever, even after you indulge yourself in an abundance of white wine.

word count: 7.2k [why is this so long tf mei]

note: IM SO DUMB I DIDN’T DO PROPER RESEARCH. DIONYSUS IS THE SON OF HADES AND PERSEPHONE GOD PLEASE ALSO PLEASE IGNORE ALL INACCURACIES thank you <3

“dionysus, get your spineless fools off my lawn lest i make sure they never or and party another day.”

 the red-headed male grinned, laughing at your comment as you pressed your lips into a thin line, evidently irked by his carefree nature. “oh, c’mon, just call me hongjoong, my friend.”

 with a snap of his fingers, the once motionless bodies that were sprawled across your lawn were gone. “and besides, we meant no harm! why don’t you join us for one night and just enjoy yourself, eh? take a break from sending dark souls into eternally damnation and just have a drink with me!”

 rolling your eyes, you tie your bathrobe even tighter, trying to not expose your body as much as possible. you could feel his gaze burning through you but choose to ignore it as well as you could.

 “we’re not friends, dionysus,” you drag his name out on your tongue, a cold glare accompanying it and you refused to drop the formalities he so hated.

with a sigh, hands on your hips, you shake your head. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i, unfortunately have to get ready for the party later. good day.”

“but hades!” you slammed the door shut before he could start whining yet smile unconsciously to yourself. “at least reserve your first dance for me tonight, your grace! i’ll treat you like a gentleman!”

jongho sauntered forward, shooing hongjoong away as he grimaced at the wine god from the window. he handed you a glass of wine and you thanked him softly. “you truly love him, don’t you?”

staring at the cup, you smile. “it reminds me of him.”

the young reaper couldn’t help but smile softly. “that’s why it’s the only wine you drink, boss. it’s about time you realise that.”

dionysus (or hongjoong as many preferred to call him) was a persistent god. that was what you have deduced after having him bug and bother you for the past century. he didn’t know what giving up was apparently (and to your disadvantage as well).

he was a charming and handsome god– you’d admit to that, but the life he lived was one you could not imagine dabbling in. you really couldn’t even fathom the thought of drinking your days away.

humming a soft tune, you fling your cupboard doors open and begin to look through the clothes you had. mingi and yunho were kind to have made the dress code a dark colour with the knowledge of you attending in their mind.

the flash of red made you smile as you shook your head in amusement.

you had undeniably grown rather fond of the young god who loved to pop by your place every once in a while. not many people bothered to pay you visits, especially since the underworld wasn’t the most welcoming place, but every day for two centuries had dionysus not failed to come by to see you.

unconsciously, you began to anticipate and await his arrivals. the usual cold bitterness of the underworld was slowly replaced with this warmth and comfort that hongjoong never failed to bring with him and you loved it (and him).

“looking good, boss,” yeosang cooed with a teasing undertone, the cocky grin on his face making you roll your eyes, a smug smirk on your face. “cant a reaper praise the beauty of a boss he has?”

it was jongho’s turn to roll his eyes. “please, yeosang, we all know you want her to fuck you– don’t even try to deny it for a second.”

the older male pouted slightly, crossing his arms. “so, sue me for being the devil i was born to be!” he cries out as you snicker softly, shaking your head. just the same old shenanigans with your two favourite reapers in all the underworld.

you put on your black heels, trying to stand up. “is the limo here yet?” you ask the younger reaper who shrugs, pulling out his tablet to scan the screen.

“oh wait, it’s here. shall we take our leave?” he asks, standing up and taking your hand as you nod. “let’s go quickly before yeosang notices,” he whispers as he suddenly sprinted towards the front door.

“hey, jongho! wait for me!” the blonde reaper shouts, scrambling to follow you while he grabbed his scythe. “i swear to zeus– choi jongho!”

yeosang’s cries of annoyance made you chuckle slightly as jongho quickly closed the door to the car. crossing your legs, you leaned back into the soft cushion of the leather seat, letting out a soft huff.

by the time the two reapers were in the car, still bickering, you were growing a little impatient. “stop,” you instructed and the two finally shut up. “let’s go.” and with that, yeosang began to drive.

“you two better not embarrass me at the party,” you mumble before rolling your eyes at the shouts of protest. even if you did love your two favourite reapers, they still annoyed the living hell out of you.

you were in for a long night.

when the car came to a halt, you let out a deep breath. “cerebus dear, give me strength,” you mumble to yourself as yeosang opened the limo door, jongho announcing your arrival.

heads turned to stare, and you wanted to run away and leave, but you maintain the suave persona you kept up in front of the gods and goddesses.

greeting and praises filled your ears as they bowed at your presence. you opt to say nothing, however, and instead walk past them, searching for a certain red head in the crowd.

“y/n!”

before you could even fathom what was going on, you were engulfed in a tight embrace (two, in fact), falling into the soft cloud with a grunt.

the blue and orange hair helped you identify the two gods who had just tackled you and they were none other than your two younger brothers, mingi and yunho (or zeus and poseidon).

“dear gods, yunho, mingi, get off me,” you cry out, the bone-crushing hug from the two younger gods suffocating you. “i love you, but you’re killing me.”

huffing, you push the two off you as the guests giggle at the rather wholesome interaction between you and your brothers. “welcome, my darling! so happy you decided to join us!”

yunho giggled as mingi continued to muzzle his cheek in the crook of your neck. “why is he so particularly clingy today,” you groan, but as usual, actions contradicted your words, your fingers racking gently through his hair.

“he missed you, obviously,” yunho said with a chuckle, trying to pull mingi off.

“and you don’t?”

the blue-haired boy opts to give you a vague shrug as you chuckle, smacking his shoulder gently. “it’s great to see you, y/n,” he says as you hug him with a smile.

“i missed you both.”

after a moment, mingi, who needed attention on him at all times, whined and grabbed your arm. “come on! i prepared a feast! it’s been centuries since you came up to spend time with us!”

chuckling, you nod as yunho rolls his eyes and the both of you follow your younger brother, the smell of the food making your stomach grumble.

if you had a dollar for every time mingi and yunho decided to host a party to force you to interact with the god you had the most ridiculous crush on, you’d be the richest god in olympus.

“now, now, dear sister,” mingi tutted, handing you a glass of champagne as he sat gloriously at the head, both you and yunho beside him. “don’t look so sullen, ay? look alive! it’s a party!”

“i work with the dead, mingi. alive is the last thing i should look,” you mumble as yunho burst out laughing, his blue hair vibrantly shinning despite the dim light.

mingi’s orange hair allowed the creeping blush to blend easily with his sun-kissed skin as you chuckled softly, holding your younger brother’s hand. “i’m only joking, min. thanks you for caring for me.”

yunho giggled as mingi continued to pout, faking an annoyed expression as you rolled your eyes, ready to pull your hand away if it weren’t for his tight grip.

glancing over at the other end of the table, you (unfortunately) make eye contact with the only god you did not want to see that night: kim hongjoong.

his eyes lit up the moment he saw you as he picked his glass up, gesturing a toast to you with a wink. you return the gesture, trying your best to get your flaming cheeks under control.

“ah, our brother-in-law openly flirting with you, isn’t he?” mingi snickered as you swatted his teasing hand away. “i don’t blame you; he’s a very charming god.”

yunho hums in agreement. “a free spirit who relaxes those in his presence: just a little something our dear sister needs in her life, hmm?”

you can hear yeosang and jongho giggling behind you as your cheeks reddened further. “nonsense,” mumbling softly, you down your glass of red wine. “i don’t need a man in my life.”

mingi grins. “oh, no, you don’t need a man,” he says. “you need hongjoong specifically.” and you couldn’t argue with him because mingi was right.

you hum with a smile, turning to look at said god. his eyes sparkled with life and happiness, red lips curled into a lovely smile, and you couldn’t help but allow your heart to flutter.

“yeah,” you say softly, feeling mingi’s grip on your hand tighten. “maybe you’re right. i do need him.”

yunho smiled, handing you another glass of red wine. “you do deserve all the love the world has to offer you, y/n,” he says, placing a kiss on your hand. “if you find that within hongjoong, and just go for it. allow yourself to be happy.”

you smile, heart warmed at the small, but thoughtful acts from your younger brothers. “thank you both,” you hug them, and they returned it, a sense of warmth and comfort filling you.

the party was lively, and you had lost sight of your brothers after they had wandered off. choosing to take a short breather, you slip away from the heat of it all before finding yourself walking in the beautiful gardens outside mingi’s large house. the moonlight grazed the tips of the roses as you were careful to not touch them lest they die.

humming a soft tune, you sit on the railing in the gazebo as silence and solitude engulfed your being. there was peace around you and relaxation took over. you could breathe properly again.

sipping on the red wine, you sigh. what a beautiful night it was. mysterious, silent, and lovely. you truly enjoyed nights like these.

“red wine again? do you have such simplistic, mundane and boring taste, my grace?”

you scoff at the voice. “forgive me, dionysus, but i hate wine. red wine is barely tolerable,” you say, glancing at him as your breath hitches in your throat. “but it still has an elegant and refined taste.”

he chuckles. “i agree, your grace.” there was silence for a moment before he asked you another question. “spending some time away from the party?”

“you know me, hongjoong,” you say, sighing with a soft smile. “i’ve never been a party person.”

he smiles gently. “and that’s completely fine, y/n– wait,” he pauses, staring at his feet as the gears in his brain turned. you grin, swinging your legs back and forth. “you called me by my name.”

“it is your name, isn’t it?” you say in a sarcastic tone, yet the sly grin on your face said otherwise. “you are truly a peculiar one, hongjoong.”

he arches an eyebrow in confusion. “now, why would you say that y/n?”

still not used to him calling you by your first name so endearingly, you blush. “no one wants to be friends with the god who brings death. i’ve never had people care for me other than my brothers and those two idiots of mine,” you roll your eyes as he chuckled.

“well,” he sits next to you, gently placing his hand over yours. “when i first saw you, i thought you were the most lovely and mystical god i had ever seen. there was this aura that surrounded you that made you intimidating, but surreal in all the best ways.”

you blush further at the compliments, unsure of what to say. “from then on, i knew i had to chase after you. such a beautiful god whose stubbornness was unlike any other,” he chuckles, looking at you with the gentlest gaze. “and now i have finally caught your eye.”

“and my heart,” you say under your breath as he inhaled a sharp breath, as of waiting to ask you something. “we are friends now, hongjoong. you can tell me whatever you want to.” hoping that your tone is encouraging, you stare at him, heart pounding as you anticipated the question you were hoping for.

do you love me? will you date me? can i take you out for dinner? i love you; do you love me? yes, yes i do.

“would you…” you inhale a sharp breath, watching as his thumbs trace over your knuckles gently. his smooth, tanned skin somehow sparkled under the moonlight that shone down upon the two of your as if he were a prince out of a fairy tale.

“would you do the honour of officiating my marriage?”

the glass you held with the tip of your fingers ever-so gently and gracefully fell from your grasp, shattering as it came into contact with the floor, glass flying in all directions, yet you kept your poise, seemingly unfazed by the accident.

hongjoong seemed too caught in the moment to notice it as he continued to stare into your eyes, the clenching of your heart unbeknownst to the oblivious god. marriage? to whom? was he not in love with you? not you? was it not you?

when you snapped out of your thoughts, you began to mumble incoherently and bent down to pick the shards of glass up. “i don’t think anyone wants the god of death to officiate a marriage, my dear boy,” you say in a hushed tone, ignoring the way the glass cuts your skin, dark red blood staining your skin.

it looked a lot like red wine.

“but you’re my friend, y/n, and i sure as hell would love to have you officiate my marriage,” he says, bending down to try and help you, but you yank your hand away, tears threatening to spill.

“who are you marrying?” you ask, barely a whisper. “i didn’t know you were getting married.”

he laughs. “well, over the past five centuries of me chasing after you, i don’t think marriage was something that was often brought up.”

you want to laugh, but you can’t. a growing pain built up within your chest, this tightening squeeze tugging at your heart. “her name is ariadne. i found her stranded in a maze after the man she was supposed to marry abandoned her,” he says with the most endearing smile you had ever seen on him. “her beauty was unlike any other, so i decided to marry her. she’s so gentle, graceful, loving, caring, and nurturing– everything i’ve ever wanted in a wife.”

and everything you weren’t.

tears begin to fall, cascading down your cheeks as you turn away, refusing to let hongjoong see you in such a weakened state. “when’s the wedding?” you ask weakly, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“the next full moon, y/n. please, it would mean so much to me if you could–”

“i apologise, hongjoong, but millions of souls are scheduled to come in on the next full moon and i will have to attend to it all,” you cut him off sharply. “i will ask one of my brothers to take my place. they are more than enough, maybe even better than me,” you say as you crushed the glass in your palm.

you can feel the disappointment coming from hongjoong and it breaks your heart all over again. “forgive me, i need to go,” you whisper, standing up. “it was a pleasure having such a lovely talk with you, dionysus. i’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” and with that, you whisk yourself away as quickly as possible.

yeosang spotter your first and aggressively nudged jongho who glared back, staring at the food he dropped on the floor. “so, how was your alone time with dionysus, boss?” he teased you, but dropped the act when he noticed you crying. “b-boss?”

“get the car.”

“b-but boss–”

“i said: get. the. car,” you growled as the two jumped up, not daring to disobey your orders. you collapse against the wall, cursing yourself out. “why the fuck am i so naive and stupid,” you hiss, the glass still in your palms, but you opt to ignore it for now.

the car arrived and you don’t bother to wait for yeosang to open the door. you get into the car, still sobbing silently. “let’s go home. i’m sick of parties,” you whisper as the two reapers exchanged nervous looks but complied.

over the thousands of centuries these two had worked with you, they had seen many sides of you. happy, mischievous, angry, enraged, euphoric, nervous– they had seen everything, but this was the one thing they had never seen before.

they had never seen you cry.

the full moon came, and you sat in your living room, chugging your fourth bottle of red wine. “boss, please, you can’t–” jongho tries to take the bottle away from you. “you can’t keep drinking.”

you laugh, throwing your head back. “i can do whatever the hell i want, jongho! i’m the god of the underworld! a coward! a fool for a man who will never love me! i am pathetic and stupid– a naive little girl who knows nothing about love!”

yeosang shot jongho an extremely concerned look as you chugged another glass down. “and he’s getting married to another woman right now!” you grin like a fool despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. “i thought i’d be the one walking down that aisle, but alas, i was wrong!”

your laughter transitions to sobs, back to crazed laughs again and the cycle repeated. yeosang and jongho were at a loss for words. they had genuinely never seen you like this before and had no idea what to do.

“we need to call zeus and poseidon.”

“are you crazy?” jongho hisses, staring at the older reaper. “we’d basically be crashing a wedding! we can’t do that!”

yeosang sighs. “i’ll call my friends up there to get the two gods down. those nymphs can’t legally crash a wedding,” he says with spite. “xenophobic assholes– that’s what they all are,” he mumbles as jongho handed him his phone.

“hopefully this works.”

as the dial tone rang, yeosang sighed. “yeah. for once, i pray to zeus that this works out well.”

no longer than ten minutes after the call ends do the two repairs find zeus and poseidon in the bathroom.

“water teleportation?” jongho asks as yunho nods. “but of course.”

“where is she?”

the two reapers brought them out of the bathroom, and they were astonished by the state of the house.

shards of glass everywhere, plants soil spilt all over floor, chairs and tables overturned– your house was a mess.

the sound of laughing and sobbing shocked both yunho and mingi as they quickly made their way to your bedroom where you resided. “y/n?”

you turn around, fifth bottle of wine in your hand with a large grin. “my baby brothers! have you come to join me? i was getting rather lonely and tired of going on about hongjoong to my two reapers! so glad you could join me!”

yeosang closes the door as yunho and mingi made their way over to you. “y/n, what’s going on? why… what happened to you?” yunho asked, his voice cracking as tears brimmed in the corner of his eyes. mingi could only clench his fist in anger, trying to calm himself down.

“hongjoong isn’t in love with me!” you say with a giggle, tears dripping off your chin. “and i was a fool! a fool who fell in love with a god who never loved me. he never loved me. never loved me. never,” your voice trailed off, lips quivering as the pain takes over again.

mingi pulled you into his embrace, resting his chin on top of your head as yunho cried, rubbing your shoulders in a tender and gentle manner.

they had never seen their eldest sister so broken before. it was heart-breaking to see the strongest, most resilient, and nonchalant god they knew break like porcelain doll. it hurt to see their sister cry over a guy who they encouraged her to be with a god who never loved her.

“is there something wrong with me, yunho?” you ask in between sobs. “am i unlovable, mingi? why doesn’t anybody love me? what is wrong with me?”

the two gods didn’t know how to answer you. they really didn’t, because to them, out of the three of you, you were the most deserving of love.

the one who was there for them when no one else was– independent, loving, stern but gentle and so caring. you loved others more than could ever love you and your two brothers knew that.

“no, no, y/n, you are so deserving of love,” yunho whispered, hugging you tightly as mingi wiped his tears away. “you deserve so much love, so, so much love. there is nothing wrong with you.”

you sobbed into his chest, grasping onto his expensive robes tightly. “but why won’t anyone love me? why can’t the one-person i want in this life not love me? why can’t i have this one thing?”

“no, no, y/n, that is not true,” mingi said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “hongjoong is undeserving of your love. right now, there is someone out there who will love, care for you and treasure you more than you could ever imagine,” he reassures you, stroking your hair like how you loved to stoke his. “hongjoong isn’t the one, because he can’t see how much you love him. somewhere out there, darling, is someone who will love you unconditionally and forever. you just haven’t found them yet.”

sniffing, you nod along to your brother’s words, the tears slowly stopping. “thank you, mingi, yunho,” you whisper, too tired to look up at them. “i love you.”

with endearing smiles, the two allowed you to rest in their arms. “we love you too, y/n. never forget that.”

as you were cradled in your brothers’ embrace, you slowly fell asleep, leaving your every worry behind and allowing sleep to consume you once again.

what your brothers said had stuck with you, but you needed to take some time away. not only did you prohibit any gods from entering the underworld (unless they had a legitimate reason), but you also stuck your nose into work and never came out.

day in, day out, all you did was work and soon, your two reapers became worried. almost three centuries had gone by and you hadn’t left the underworld even once.

so of course, they had to come up with a secret and ridiculous plan to get you out and about.

“oh, c’mon, boss! some fresh air will do you good!”

“let me wallow in my sorrows and dark spirits, jongho,” you whine as the two grim reapers dragged you by your arms into the field of flowers, watching as the plants you touched wilted and died.

letting out a sigh, you look up and stare at the moon. it was a beautiful night, and you could’ve been immersing yourself in work instead of fooling around. what on olympus did these two plan on doing?

“wooyoung!”

yeosang’s voice echoed in the large fields as you tilted your heart back to get a glimpse of who he was calling. “san, we’re here!” closing your eyes, you shake your head in defeat.

the two reapers continued to drag you, the cool night breeze blowing against your skin. when you opened your eyes, you scream at the sight of two nymphs staring down at you with mischievous grins on their faces.

“you were right, yeo!” the shorter one chirped. “she’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“a babe if i don’t say so myself,” the taller one chimed in, winking at you. “forgive my rudeness, your grace.”

“yeosang, jongho, what the hell is going on!” you demand an explanation as the two chuckle nervously. “i swear on my brothers names, i will torture the two of you for centuries!” you hiss angrily.

“woah, calm down now boss,” jongho says, spinning around in fear. “we just planned something with the nymphs to help you relax a little– nothing bad!”

you narrow your gaze, squinting and they realise that you don’t believe them. yeosang sighs. “truly, we do have good intentions,” he begins. “i asked san and wooyoung to help me prepare a nice place for you to relax at.”

the pink haired nymph named san smiled sweetly, nodding along as the one with two-toned hair glanced over to the side. you followed his gaze and it landed right beneath a white grape tree.

“that’s a rare tree,” you murmured, and it seems like one of the nymphs heard you.

“indeed, your grace!” san exclaimed. “and that is why wooyoung and i have prepared it just for you! a platter of our finest fruit and wine are waiting for you there,” he says with a soft smile.

with a sigh, you smile. “i guess i have no choice but to have a taste of some of the best produce here,” you say. “but is there any way that will stop me from uh, killing, the plants around me?”

the two nymphs hand you a blanket, assuring you that if you wrap it around your body, everything would be okay.

and here you were, sitting beneath a white grape tree, munching on a peach as you gazed at the moon.

the gentle wind was cool yet refreshing and all you could do was get lost in your thoughts which were quickly interrupted by a yelp and a loud thud.

grasping onto the blanket tightly, you spin around, startled. a head of ash grey hair suddenly pops out of the berry bush, and you tilt your head in confusion.

“oh my goodness, persephone– you are so clumsy!” you hear a gently and magical voice from the bush and you freeze. “how could you trip over poor todd? and you’re under the white grape tree now–”

the voice trails off and you come face-to-face with an absolutely beautiful and breath-taking god. he had a light shade of ash grey hair, a small nose with lips pink and plump. his rosy cheeks contrasted his pale skin and his large, innocent eyes shone in the moonlight. he was ethereal.

“o-oh my,” he mumbles, staring straight into your eyes. “forgive me; i did not know anyone was here at this hour,” he says while standing up slowly. “i’m so sorry if i’m being rude or anything, but who are you? i’ve never seen you around here.”

blinking slowly, you clear your throat, trying to maintain the cool demeanour you had put on. “i am hades, the god of the underworld,” you reply, waiting for the god to introduce himself.

his eyes widen, rosy cheeks turning even more red which takes you aback (just when you thought this dainty little thing could not get any cuter).

“i-i apologise, your grace! i have interrupted your private time! i am the god of spring, persephone, son of the goddess demeter,” he fumbles along his words, fingers toying with the fern.

you chuckle softly, shaking your head in amusement. “it is alright, my dear,” you reply as he stiffens at the name. there is this awkward silence that settles in the air, and you feel this weight upon you to invite the poor god to join you. “would you like to join me?” you gesture rather hesitantly.

he could only nod before awkwardly sitting beside you, unsure of what to do. “relax,” you say in a less commanding but more comforting tone. “do not fear me, child. right now,” you sigh with a sad smile. “i am just a heartbroken god who has fallen into the trap of human emotion.”

the young god frowned, titling his head. “why would you be heartbroken, my grace?” he asks, in genuine confusion as you chuckle softly.

“i fell in love with a god who ended up seeing me as his best friend,” you say in a sad and regretful tone. “he wanted me to officiate his marriage with a mortal. how stupid, isn’t it?”

the scoff from persephone was one you did not expect, but it amused you. “i beg for your forgiveness if this sounds rude, your grace, but how blind can a god be? honestly,” he says with a huff, avoiding all eye contact with you.

“now, why would you say that?”

“well firstly, i’m sure you’re not one to beat around the bush, your grace,” he says. “you are a very direct god which means that you show clear signs when you take interest in someone.”

you nod in agreement, listening to him. “so, if one were to remain oblivious to your affection towards them, i can only assume that they’re blind,” he says as you smile, listening to him intently. “and i know for a fact that wanting the god of death to officiate their wedding– forgive me, your grace– sounds terrible.”

the last thing the god expected you to do was burst out laughing, but that’s exactly what you did. enraptured by the smile on your face, persephone could only stare at you in awe.

“you are spot on! how clever you are,” you hum, wrapping the blanket around yourself even tighter. “i am scarce with my compliments, but you have earned these. tell me, my dear: what is your name?” you ask the god.

he blushes, giggling softly. “seonghwa, your grace. park seonghwa.”

“ah,” you smile gently. “seonghwa. a beautiful name for a beautiful god such as yourself. do you know the meaning of your name?” he shakes his head and inches closer to listen to you.

“seonghwa means to be a star while the name ‘hwa’, means flower,” you explain as he listens eagerly. “such a fitting name for the god of spring.” you say as he looks at you with his large eyes and huge smile. “my name is y/n.”

“y/n.”

your name rolled off his tongue like a worship song, the melodic tune of his voice making your chest warm as you smile, nodding. “would you like to enjoy some peaches, seonghwa?”

“only if you indulge in this white wine i happen to have on me,” he says with a bashful smile, pulling out the bottle as you give him a judgemental stare.

“what would your mother say,” you taunt him.

“mother doesn’t have to know, your grace,” he winks as your cheeks flush a little, the sound of the rich liquid being poured into a wine glass filling the cool night air. “a glass of white wine?”

you hesitate, hand clamping onto the blanket tightly as you stare at the light-coloured liquid in the glass.

it wasn’t red wine.

you didn’t like any wine except red wine.

you didn’t like any wine except red wine.

“okay.”

that was the beginning of a beautiful and unlikely friendship between you and the god of spring. what you thought was friendship soon blossomed

all of a sudden, centuries passed and you and seonghwa fell in love. it was a sweet process: telling your brothers that you had found someone who made you happy, introducing them to each other, asking demeter for his hand in marriage and so much more– it was a fruitful ride.

“love? are you ready, my flower?” you whisper to seonghwa, holding his hand tightly as he nods. “you’re so brave, my love.” you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as yeosang opens the door. “let’s go.”

you exit the car, holding onto seonghwa’s hand as the world seemed to stop moving. the guests all turned and stared at the both of you, the looks are shock and disbelief making you grin as seonghwa bashfully hid behind you. this was a great reaction.

“y/n!”

before you could even fathom what was going on, you were engulfed in a tight embrace (two, in fact), falling into the soft cloud with a grunt.

“dear gods, yunho, mingi, get off me,” you cry out, the bone-crushing hug from the two younger gods suffocating you. “i love you, but you’re killing me.”

seonghwa giggled softly as your two brothers got off and helped you up as well. “welcome to the party, y/n,” yunho said with a smile. “i made sure the food was your favourite and of course,” he looked at seonghwa with a grin. “we added some of his too.”

you chuckled, gesturing for yunho to bend down. he did so and the last thing he expected was for you to wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull you into a hug willingly, but that’s exactly what you did.

“thank you,” you whisper, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as he freezes momentarily before relaxing into the hug and returning it. “i love you, baby brother.”

“hey! what about me!” mingi nudges the blue-haired god, earning a chuckle from you. “you deserve all the love the world has to offer you, y/n,” he says, engulfing you in a warm hug. “and if you find that within seonghwa, we will support you all the way. allow yourself to be happy.”

tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes as you buried your face into the crook of mingi’s neck. “thank you, mingi. thank you,” you whisper to your youngest brother as he smiles to himself.

the touching moment made seonghwa smile fondly and take your hand as he led you to the dinner table, awaiting the beginning of the party.

unbeknownst to you, hongjoong was also attending the party with his wife. “so nice of his grace to invite us, isn’t it? especially since we aren’t close to him,” his wife giggled as he peppered kisses all over her hand. “i wonder what the fine occasion is.”

“who knows, my love,” he hums, tearing his attention away from his wife when yunho stands, clinking his spoon against the champagne glass he held.

“isn’t that hades?”

“i haven’t seen my lord in four–.”

“centuries, isn’t it?”

hongjoong wasn’t oblivious to the comments around him and he freezes at the mention of your name. eyes darting around the room to catch the slightest glance of you. where were you?

“as you all know, my older sister went into hiding for a few years,” he begins his speech as the guest laugh slightly, but hongjoong isn’t interested in that. “but now, she has returned and tonight, my younger brother and i celebrate her return and engagement.”

there was a buzz among the gods as hongjoong’s eyes widen, head snapping up to stare at yunho in shock. “she- she what?” he stuttered out as his wife held his hand, gently caressing it, confused.

“honey, who is this god?”

hongjoong barely heard her due to the thoughts that infiltrated his mind, but his mindless answer still gave her some sort of hint as to who she was.

“eldest sister of zeus and poseidon, god of the underworld, the most beautiful and mystical god in all of olympus.”

hongjoong didn’t even know what he was saying because he was too focused on you.

you, who was sitting at the head of the table. you, who wore a beautiful black dress that left people breathless. you, who had a man sitting next to you, the flowers blossoming around him. you, who had the most loving smile as he gazed at you. you, who had just given your glass of red wine back to a nymph and took a glass of white wine instead.

you, who had seemingly replaced him.

slumping back into his chair, he stares at the moon as a nostalgic feeling filled him. what was this feeling? he didn’t know. he truly didn’t know.

but what he knew, was that he felt like he had made a big mistake.

sitting at the same gazebo in mingi’s lovely garden, you sigh. it took you four centuries back in time, the sight of the moon and the sound of party music in the background, faint but audible.

would life have been the same if you had told hongjoong that you loved him? what difference would it have made?

would you be marrying him instead? lying in his arms and cuddling him to sleep instead? hugging him tightly and planting light kisses all over his body? bathing in his glorious presence and loving him till the end? staying with him until the end of time?

what would it have been like if you had told him?

“finally acquired new taste, huh?”

 the said god’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you turned around. he looked as dashing as he did all those years ago. your eyes follow his gaze and lands on the glass you held. white wine.

you hum, sipping on it. “it took a while to get used to, but i love the taste of it.”

the words that flowed out of your mouth affected hongjoong much more than you knew it did. pushing the pain aside, he chuckled, leaning against the railing. “how long has it been, my grace? two, three centuries?”

“four.” it’s barely a whisper, but the crack in your voice is still audible to hongjoong and he’s taken aback. “it’s been four centuries, dionysus.”

hongjoong clenched his fist. “what happened to us, y/n? why are you using my god name again?” the sound of his voice cracking made you squeeze your eyes shut as you averted your gaze. “what did i do to make you shun me for four centuries, y/n? what happened?”

“i fell in love with you, hongjoong.”

silence ensued, consuming the both of you like a starving beast in the night. he stared at you, the look of disbelief he wore piercing your heart over and over.

with a deep inhale, you continued. “you made me learn how to live, hongjoong,” you said with a smile. “you taught me to be happy, to relax, to enjoy, but most importantly, you taught me to love.”

looking up at hongjoong, he watches the life in your face drain as you slump back to lean on the pillar of the pagoda. “you were the first of many things in my life: first friend, first crush– first love,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

hongjoong didn’t know what to do nor say, so he watched as tears cascaded down your face, shimmering like jewels.

he was speechless. never did he expect you, the coldest, most emotionless god in the entirety of olympus to fall in love with him, the chirpy and liveliest god.

“but the night you told me you were getting married, my heart broke,” you said with a sigh. “i thought you were in love with me, but seeing as how things went,” you chuckle, blinking the tears back. “i was a fool.”

hongjoong wants to deny what you were saying, but you continue before he can interrupt you. “and to let you go, i had to spend four centuries away, hongjoong. i didn’t like it either, but i had to.”

“no, y/n, no,” he shakes his head and grabs your hands. “y-you’re wrong. i was in love with you and,” he pauses, hesitating. “i don’t know if i’m still in love with you,” he whisperers while staring into your eyes. “you are my first love.”

your eye light up for a split second, but the joy fades almost instantly. “but you are married and i am engaged. we have moved on with our lives.”

he nodded, agreeing with you. “that we have, my grace. that we have.”

there’s another moment of stagnant silence before you decide that it’s time to make your way back to the party. “now if you’ll excuse me, my fiancé must be worried about me– oh,” you stop, turn to look at him and he sees the most painful smile he’s ever seen on your face.

“congratulations. you’ll be an amazing father.” you always wondered if you’d ever start a family with hongjoong. now you knew that you wouldn’t.

turning around just in time to miss the shocked look on his face as you broke the news even his wife didn’t know to him, you leave, tears spilling down your cheeks once again like diamonds.

even if you had fallen in love with white wine, there was something it couldn’t satisfy within you like red wine could.

even if you never touched another glass of red wine again, there was always that temptation to indulge in it once again.

even if you had thrown that glass of red wine away, promising yourself to never look back, its bitter aftertaste lingered on the tip of your tongue forever.

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