#and ao3 see no qualms with this

[orbdotexe]

A new Lightbearer breathes his first panicked breaths, throwing the blanket off his resting place, and finds himself in a world that instead takes pity on him—Much to his displeasure. But he’s been having strange dreams, and everyone warns him away from some strange… person? As more time goes on, and the warnings compound—he’s less and less sure of that notion, or if they even exist.

The brainworms said "what about Crow pre-Vanguard?? he was never in Spider's 'employ' in TFE!" and so here's some Salty Crow and the start of him being determined to figure out who killed him!

Mind: the divide is a time skip, to when Crow is out of the Dreaming City-- and this is the armor I use for the YW, since I don't give much detail. Anyway, Crow's Rez, "Bury Me Shallow":

— — —

“Who was buried up there?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean- No offense. Just… he seemed important.”

“...You don’t know?” The Corsair eyes him, wary.

“Know what?”

She takes a moment to study his face, though it’s shadowed by his hood and the sharp light behind him. It feels like she’s trying to flip through torn out pages and looks like she cut her fingers open on the shreds— He resists drawing any further in on himself.

“...Nevermind.” She scans his disheveled outfit, “You’re a Guardian?”

“Not sure what it means, but that seems to be the consensus,” he replies, mentally bristling at the judgmental tone. How can someone tell by just the clothing? Why would he be buried in this if it was that bad?

…Oh. Right. He was buried in it.

Well, maybe buried wasn’t the right word—There was just a blanket thrown over him, laying on some stone slab. 

Not much of a burial. Could just be how the dead are treated, though.

“You haven’t spoken to any of your… lot, yet, either?” The corsair asks, some disdain in her words. He’s been hearing that tone a lot on the subject of Guardians, though not at him. If he’s one of them, shouldn’t she be disgusted by him, as well?

“Ah… no. I’ve seen some around, but haven’t gotten to speak to any. They seem awfully busy.” It’s not exactly a lie, but he hasn’t exactly tried to speak to them at all.

The thought of approaching one makes him nervous.

She snorts, “Busy is one way to put it.” There’s that resentment again.

He doesn’t think he will ever understand why. It seems the Guardians are trying to help, so why does almost everyone he talks to seem to hate them? Well, there have been a few Corsairs that seemed more thankful for the help, but… Most aren’t.

In the ensuing awkward silence, the Corsair seems to get a call in her helmet, turning away from him and murmuring into nothing. He can’t pick any of it up, though it sounds urgent, and she shoulders her rifle.

He can’t help but sigh quietly, knowing that meant no real conversations for another week or so.

She huffs after a few more moments, and sighs. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but the Crows’ feather falls that there’s enemy movement around.” She pauses, mouth pulling into a grimace, before continuing, “Your… abilities, might be… useful.”

“Oh.” She’s asking for his help, isn’t she? Even the Corsairs who didn’t mind Guardians hadn’t asked him to. He… hasn’t done this before—Helped from afar, sure, but not in the thick of it. 

She eyes him, with some mix of anxiousness and detesting having asked. “Well, I’m… happy to help.” He smiles, despite the nervous knot in his gut. “Just lead the way.”

He swears there’s a glint of familiarity in her eyes as he says it, and she relaxes some before clearing her throat. “Let’s get going, then.”

— — —

“Sooo… Don’t remember nothin’?” The shadowed figure asks from the thick branch it’s laying on, a deep and modulated voice carrying just loud enough to reach him.

He has to crane his neck to see the ominous red glow of what he assumes is its eyes. “Uhm… no. Didn’t think I was meant to.”

“Yer Ghost tell you nothing, either?” The figure adjusts some, legs now dangling. Seems he’s interesting enough for its full attention.

“Was he supposed to?”

“...Guess not.” It drops down, not a sound leaving them as they right themself, and their face comes into view. Grey metal plates and red dots for eyes greet him. ”Any idea who ya are? Where ya woke up?”

“Looked like…a cathedral, I think.” He takes a half-step back, savouring his personal space, “He must’ve been highly respected. Did you know him?” The apparently metal man—not that he hasn’t heard of Exos (because he has, if only some), but hearing of and seeing are two different things—eyes him for a moment. 

“Not personally, but knew of ‘im. An’way, strict Vanguard policy n all, can’t tell ya much.” The exo turns on his heel and starts walking, waving a hand for him to follow.

“...Riight.” He peers around the trees and rocky terrain before deciding to go along with it. “Actually, what’s with that? A few people have told me that already.” 

“S’posedly, knowing obscures judgment… or som’thin along those lines. Never bothered to listen ver’ much. Got better things to do than listen to some raving mad Warlock’s lecture.”

“And… I’m supposed to be a… a Hunter?”

“Look it to me. Cape, dirty look,”—Dirty? Now that’s rude—“Things like that. Got that stature, too, and the slouch.” 

“Ah. You’re…”—Brutal—“forthcoming.”

“You asked. An’way, got a name for yerself yet? Like to keep track of who I meet.”

A name. His Ghost talked about those; he had seemed excited to pick them.

“...No, not yet.”

“Could give ya some suggestions, if ya like. Though, you’d prob’ly like to do that wit yer Ghost, rather than a stranger.”

“Yeah… he’s been nagging me about it. Seems important to him.”

“Might wanna get on wit it, then! Unhappy Ghost makes a’ unhappy Guardian, y’know. In the meantime, got a preference? Any topics in partic’ you like? Might wanna fly with ‘ose.”

He thinks for a moment, and the black feather on the Hunter’s hood catches his eye. “Well… What’s yours? Might give me some ideas,” he shrugs.

“Rancher!” The other Hunter announces, wholly confident.

“Rancher,” he deadpans back, deciding that whatever he picked would have to be better than that.

“Yuep.” He opts not to question how the Exo popped the P without lips. “M’ Ghost, Iridant, wouldn’t let me jus’ keep Hunter.”

“You were going to name yourself Hunter?”

“Well, it was before I knew ‘bout the Vanguard an’ their classes thing! Iri took ‘er sweet time telling me, an’ I knew I liked huntin’, so…” 

The first statement gives him pause.

Are there… are there Guardians outside of the Vanguard? Well, are not all Ghosts with the Vanguard, at least? 

“Huh.”

So it’s not just him, then. Maybe Rancher’s Ghost kept him away from the Vanguard for awhile for the same reason his Ghost does… Whatever that reason is, anyway.

As the pair come up on an uphill, littered with stone piles and boulders, Rancher kicks some gravel rocks aside. “Soo, heh, how long ‘ave you been up ‘n about?” 

He eyes the patch of gravel for a moment, watching them resettle, “Not too long. Spent some months in the Dreaming City, but only been out here for a few weeks, I think.”

“Ahh, so yer a new Newlight, then! Yeah. Yeah! I imagine those Awoken’re a bit weird, ey?” A barking, modulated laugh brings his gaze back up, finding Rancher to be stood at the top of some larger boulder at the top of the hill now, “How’s that place, an’way? ‘aven’t had the chance to go quite yet.”

Weird was one way to put the Corsairs. So much disdain for Guardians, and yet they seemed fine with him—among other things. “Well, it’s… It’s pretty, when you aren’t under fire.” He could paint pictures of that sky, but… What were the pale things called? Scorn? “The uh… the ones with crossbows were trouble.”

Rancher laughs, again—now more entertained, rather than antagonistic, “Ooooh, big man too good for Taken? The ozone smell don’t bother you? Might jus’ be a’ Exo thing, that, but I ‘ear it makes some a bit nauseous.”

The memory of spinning around, mid combat, to be met with a Taken Knight towering over him moments before waking up—with a few Corsairs gathered around him—springs to the front of his mind. He opts to hum in agreement rather than debate it, climbing up on another slab across from the other Hunter.

The hill below drops-off into what looks to be a patched together base of sorts, old enough to have a dusting of moss and vines over it, but recently lived in and the vines cut back over computer panels and exits. 

He catches Rancher stretching (though, he doubts Exos have any need to do so) out the corner of his eye as the other Hunter sighs, “Ahhh, ‘ere’s my stop.”

“Your… stop?” Despite the lived-in look to the base, he can’t see any proof of the occupants anywhere nearby. Or was Rancher here to reclaim it? He had heard Hunters were largely meant to be scouts. Supposedly.

“Yuep!” The Exo pops the end, again. “Got an op to run out ‘ere. That base down there? ‘posed to hold some pests, an’ I’m on exterminator duty!”

And there goes the scout theory. If he went to the Vanguard, would he be put on these missions, too?

“Ooh,” Rancher stops and turns back, “‘fore I go—Careful if you see a Hunter in red an—ahh, no, that’s… That’s not specific at all. Hm.”

He’s heard this warning before. No one ever tells him why, or what that Hunter did, just to stay far away. Every. Time. Other than the vague warnings, he’s not even sure what he’s looking out for.

And it doesn’t help that “red and black Hunter” is a good seventy percent of Hunters he’s seen.

“Why? What did they do?” He tries to put force into his voice, but Rancher skips over the question.

“Just- ah. Complicated. I’ll send yer Ghost a picture, heh?” Rancher’s Ghost—a foil-textured, pink colored, and green eyed… mini Servitor?—appeared with a series of trills. “You’ll want to avoid–” The Ghost projected an image, “–that one.”

He could barely study the figure before there was a blast followed by the sound of Pikes somewhere nearby, to which both Rancher and his Ghost snapped to attention, projection fading. 

“Ah!” Rancher sounded excited as his Ghost dematerialized, “That’s my que! Pleasure t’ meet ya, blueberry, but I gotta run.”

“Wh- Blue–? Hold on, what does that—” but the other Hunter is already plowing through the woods on a still-materializing sparrow, giving him one last wave, “—mean…”

He sighs, but can’t help but stare, dumbfounded, after Rancher, yet—

One thing stuck in his mind; That single, holographic, orange eye. 

The same one in his dreams.

What happened to his past life?

#the forsaken exile #destiny 2 #destiny 2 crow #and i need it to be known. outside of the content box. that the title isnt as poetic as you might think #i am entirely poking fun at Uldren's burial. and Crow is so salty about it #also. ''The Crows' feather falls that ___'' is basically saying ''word has it ___'' and is also in reference to the Crows being spies-- #(i have. so many little headcanons lmao. we'll see how many i can fit in TFE) #thinking that Rancher will be the Hunter in Impromptu Arsenal Check (egregore) but not sure if i'll do anything with him past it #he was very fun to write though! #anyway-- versus the Drifter chapter/short. i think the pacing and dialogue of this flows so so much better #a few qualms here and there but overall. very happy with it #and i KNOW i was supposed to finish like... the angsty cayde hug. or fluffy crow walk. or the fungi wolf fight. but this took over my brain #it took me over so badly #but also that start/summary format. dont like. i think i just talk too much LMAO the ao3 format works so much better for #my overly talkative ass #got a place for the summary. opening notes. and even CLOSING notes. and i can even hide shit in tags at the START instead?? #ough #i have no idea what to tag this with though so i will... add the link to it here when i get that done lmao

[soapskneebrace]

confessional offerings

previous - neighbors - next

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Dirty talk. Implied masturbation. LIGHT daddy kink (the word is not used but the dynamic is implied). Also on Ao3.

The neighbors lay their cards on the table.

“Hi, love,” he replies. “Where are you? Still at dinner?”

“No, we left. I’m in my hotel room.”

“Good,” John says. He feels his own expression go soft at the sound of your voice, which is sweet and gentle even across miles and distorted by the phone. “I missed you this morning.”

He hears you shift—imagines you laying in bed, in your pajamas after a shower, skin warm and hair still a little damp. He can almost feel it if he imagines it; the rhythm of your breath with his mouth against your neck, his open hands across the soft expanse of your stomach.

He’s never seen your bed, so he has to supply his own in his mind. The idea starts up an ache that’s been building all day.

“Me too,” you say, at a near-whisper. You sound painfully shy.

John smiles. He likes that shyness, likes that you give him the chance to draw you out of it. “You know, if you want to know why I like you, love, all you have to do is ask. I’d tell you if you did.”

You don’t respond for a moment. He doesn’t press. You like that he does that, he’s found, that he gives you time to think. John has no qualms doing that for you; he wants you to feel comfortable with him. 

Finally, in a small voice, “Why do you like me, John?”

“What a question,” he says, unable regardless to keep from teasing. “Where do I even start? You’re putting me on the spot, here.”

“John!” you whinge, and he laughs.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I like that you’re kind. You never have to spend time with me, but you do. And you’re smart, love, I like that a lot. You guessed I was bored without me saying anything, and did something to help me. I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m forcing you to read my books. Just so I can have something to talk about with you.”

“If that’s what you think forcing is, I’d like to see what happens when you really try to get something you want.”

You laugh, so he knows from that sound that you know your fear is a little ridiculous. Good—if you really thought that nonsense, you might leave him alone.  

“And I like the way you say my name,” he says, hearing the desire in his own voice. Will that sound scare you? He’s got to show it to you at some point. You need to know how easily you can get him going.

“How do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like it means something to you,” he says. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name, love. And no one says it the way you do.”

“Oh,” you say, small and soft.

“I want to hear you say it more often,” he continues.

“…John,” you say, and it hits him like a lightning strike. His cock throbs suddenly and near-painfully.

His voice lowers, roughens. “Just like that.”

You say it again, still shy, but on a breath that is clear in its arousal. “John.”

This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. He shifts his legs, tries to convince his growing erection to sit a little more comfortably against his thigh, but does not touch himself. He isn’t there with you, not yet. 

“I like that you give me that, love. You let me have so much. More than you know.”

“I always think that,” you say, passionately. “I never understand. I don’t know why things mean so much to you.”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “There isn’t a lot of…gentleness, or kindness, in my life. And you—that’s all you are. You give me more of it than I’ve ever had. I’m a man starved, and all you ever do is feed me.”

He wants to see your face so badly. He wants to see the little crease that shows up between your brows when you get emotional. He wants to hold you again, feel the weight of your body on his, learn your shape with his hands and mouth. He wants to say all of this, but he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” you say, with a little waver of humor. “You’d remember my cooking.”

John blinks, and then barks a laugh. “Oh, love. I want to devour you.”

You make a little noise, and yes, John is painfully hard now, able to feel the beat of his own blood in his cock against the tight crotch of his pants.

“Is…is that what you’d do?” you ask. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says, letting his voice sink deep into his chest. “For hours, if you’d let me. Sweet girl, I want to spoil you rotten.”

You make a humming sound, high and from the back of your throat. “I didn’t think men really liked that.”

“I’m going to find and kill whoever taught you that,” he promises. “There’s nothing I want more than to get my mouth on you, love.”

“Nothing?” you say, and he grins, recognizing a prompt when he hears one.

“You want me to tell you what else I’d like to do? How I’d like to have you on my cock, drag it out for as long as you can stand? I want you in my bedsheets, pretty girl, making a mess of them because I’m fucking you so good. I want you wrapped around me and holding on so tight, because that’s all you need to do. Because I’m taking care of everything, and all you need to do is take it.”

“John,” you say, shakily.

“Should I stop?”

“I—” you stammer, “I just don’t know how to respond, John. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell me how that sounds to you,” he purrs. “Be nice to know if you like the idea.”

“…I do,” you say, “a lot, John.” 

And he has to grin at the breathless way you say it. He knows you now—he knows how hard that must have been for you to say. He’s so goddamn proud of you for saying it.

Then, you continue, tentatively, bravely. “What else…what else would you do?”

“Mm. I had some thoughts about that vibrator.”

“No!” you cry, groaning long and disconsolate as he laughs. “No, I thought I’d gotten it, oh, John…”

“It was bright pink,” he says, needling you further.

“You didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, love. Were you thinking of me, that night?” he asks, breath shallow in his lungs. “Did you get off with that vibrator between your legs, imagining what I could be doing to you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, John.”

“Except it wasn’t very good, was it, love?” he continues. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted me there, wanted my hands and my mouth and my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you reply, and it sounds like a whine.

“You can have them,” he promises. “The moment you’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.”

You don’t respond immediately. He doesn’t think he’s pushed too far, this time; rather, he thinks with not a small amount of satisfaction, you might just be recognizing the scope of his offer. 

It’s a moment John always enjoys with potential partners—that quiet, trembling realization that yes, they can ask for anything from him, because he really will give it to them. Because they know that they can rely upon him, that they can trust him. That he wants nothing more than to be someone they can fall into, freed of worry or concern.

“I do want it, John,” you whisper into his ear. “All of it.”

Something uncoils in John’s chest. Appetite, yawning wide, swallowing your confession whole. His balls clench, hard. He wants to see the look on your face. Both when this finally happens—when you give in to him—and right now, as you’re realizing you can. 

John is not one to employ absolutes lightly; he wants to see you now more than he’s ever wanted to see anyone in his life.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, hearing a rasp in his voice. “Will you come to see me when you get home, then?”

“I—” you say, sounding breathless. “Yes. I will, John.”

“Good,” he says. “Now do something for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“I’m going to let you get back to your evening,” he says, adjusting his hips. “And when you lay down to sleep, I want you to think about me. Think about what I’ll do for you. Because I’ll be thinking about the exact same thing.”

“Yes, John,” you say. There’s a…floaty, far-off quality to your voice. It will not take John very long at all to finish tonight.

“Did you bring your vibrator along with you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Pity,” he says. “I guess we’ll both be using our hands, then.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Good night, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Good…good night, John.”

He says goodbye again, and ends the call. He lays his phone down and sits back, staring up at the ceiling. The football game is long over, some late night talk show playing now. He turns the TV off.

He’s not sure whether it’s going to be easier now to make it through the next two days—or much, much harder.

A/N: We're almost there.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #price x reader #price x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod smut #mw2 smut #neighbors au #og post

[lexsssu]

Odd (Hiroki Dan)

TAGS: Dan/F!reader, yandere, possessiveness, obsession, breeding, impregnation, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver.

Dan was always…odd.

Even when you were both still young preteens fumbling their way through puberty and middle school, there was always something about him that stood out from the rest of the student body.

Sure, he was smart, handsome, and came from a good family especially with his father being the current superintendent general at the police force. He had all the qualities that ensured his constant popularity, but despite how amicable he was towards your peers he always retreated back into himself.

.

.

.

At least, that was when it came to everyone else that is.

Because the biggest oddity you could find in him is his blatant need to ALWAYS be around you.

Whether he was merely within your immediate vicinity or engaging with you in some way, the dark-haired male was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The eyes are the windows to the soul and for someone like him who was a master at molding his expressions in whatever face he needed at the moment, his eyes clearly revealed how genuine he was towards you.

Perhaps you should be scared, especially when his expressive eyes widen and dilate whenever your eyes meet with him for even a second. How it seems as if he’d been staring at you for long periods of time without you even noticing how heated his gaze was, but…

Was it bad that you found his attention…endearing? 

Flattering even that such an eligible man such as him only had you in his eyes?

Dan never did anything that made you feel uncomfortable, but rather knowing that you had his eternal attention almost felt like a safety blanket was wrapped around you and that there was never really anything for you to fear. He is a gentleman first and foremost, but the longing within his eyes are unmistakable and the genuine smiles he bestows upon you wear down the walls you’ve placed around your heart little by little.

That is why is there really any surprise that you’re wedded beneath the sakura blossoms as soon as you’ve both graduated highschool? 

To most people, marrying so early seemed like such an archaic practice or that you were both throwing your lives away so early. 

Such a thought never passed through your mind however and much less your husband for that matter. If anything, both his family and yours were very supportive of your decision as they had all been witness to the love you both shared for one another through all these years. Plus, it also helps that his family was well-off enough and Dan himself driven enough that your father had no qualms handing you over to his new son-in-law because he knew that you’d certainly be taken care of and cherished.

However, as much as you were grateful to the family and friends that celebrated your union, nothing could still overcome the happiness that overflowed from your heart as you met this man at the altar and exchanged vows and a kiss to seal your everlasting love to one another.

Dan was certainly odd…but you loved him all the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The doctor said that this is the best position to allow my seed to reach your womb and we’d be remiss if we didn’t follow her instructions. Besides, Masahiro deserves a new sibling, don’t you think so? I long to see you again growing ripe with my child…your breasts filling up with such fine drink that I’m already salivating just thinking about it…”

You don’t know what happened during work to set him off like this, but you weren’t complaining as Dan did his utmost best to practically rearrange your guts with how hard he was bearing down on you. The pillow he’d slipped beneath your hips just moments ago certainly helped as skin smacked against skin and bodily fluids dripped and stained the once pristine bedsheets.

The handsome investigator’s usually combed dark hair was in disarray as strands clung to his sweat-stained face, his movements & expression reeking of desperation and overflowing affection as he sought to get his cock as deep into you as he could. With luscious thighs wrapped around his narrow waist, hands raking against his strong back leaving faint red lines, and your lips kissed and bitten until it shone a bright reddish color, Hiroki knew that this might as well have been heaven.

For it is everything he wanted and dreamed of.

A precious young son sleeping in his own room, and the love of his life: his sweet little wife who still cared for him in spite of his need to ‘commit good deeds.’

And now that the newest member of your family was actively being made, Hiroki would make sure to continue his mission to cleanse the world of the filth that dared taint its goodness.

“ Leave it to me, darling. I’ll rack up enough ‘good deeds’ for you and all our future children so that you may all live without fears or worries… ”

With your face buried in the crook of his neck as you slept on top of him, his cock still stuffed inside your sopping cunt in order to prevent any of his seed from slipping out, the man smiled and closed his eyes and followed you into the land of dreams.

#lexsssu writes #Brutal Satsujin Keisatsukan no Kokuhaku #hiroki dan #hiroki dan x reader #hiroki dan x you #hiroki dan x y/n #yandere x reader #crossposted on ao3

[ncteez]

NEIGHBORLY (c.s.c. & k.m.g.)

When a single man moves in next door to you and your husband, it wasn’t difficult for either of you to take interest in what he could offer to the dynamic of your lives together. Unfortunately, the new interesting man appears to be afraid to admit that he’s curious as to what happens behind your very unlocked front door.  or the one where your husband, seungcheol, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog to give gyucheol a kiss on the forehead

WORDCOUNT ― 18.8k

PAIRING ― husband seungcheol x afab reader x voyeur mingyu 

CONTENT― husband!cheol, bachelor mingyu, open marriage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, second hand embarrassment, threesome, smut. 

WARNINGS ― mentions of mingyu’s ex cheating on him, also seungcheol is assumed to be bisexual and/or he is attracted to mingyu too but there isn’t any dude on dude stuff. seungcheol does put his fingers in mingyu’s mouth tho, deal with it.

NOTE ― i cannot and i will not defend my actions. also, huge shoutout to @homerunhansol for proof reading this for me!!

smut tags below cut:

smut tags― exhibitionism, voyeurism, big dick cheol, HUGE dick mingyu, top/dom(ish) cheol, service top/shy/bottom(ish) mingyu, embarrassment kink???, mentions of porn, masturbation, phone sex kind of?? idk he calls mingyu so he can listen to the shit he’s seeing, alcohol consumption, finger fucking, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, tit fondling, raw grinding,  oral (f & m receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, making out, dirty talk, pussy drunk men, cock drunk reader, double vaginal penetration, riding, missionary, finger sucking, cum stuffing, desperate desperate people!!! 

~

Mingyu ran from a lot of things. He ran from his ex fiancée when she cheated, he ran from new opportunities out of fear of losing what he already had, ran from a cop once as a teenager for streaking near the old folk’s home. Running wasn’t exactly something he’s fond of but, more often than not it’s what his heart tells him to do.

As stated, the last time he ran away was when his fiancée was found in the bed he paid for with her co-worker. That’s when his need to run came in the most handy, having no qualms with giving her the apartment and everything in it. His job allowed him to leave without much of a financial hit, her’s wouldn’t. 

The ring he bought stayed on her finger for some reason, the home he made became one she shared with any man that wasn’t him. It’s okay though, because to him, she can have it. He’s much more comfortable starting over than she would be. So, that’s what he does. 

He has money, he has a good job, and now he has a lovely house of his own on a quaint little street on the other side of town. Far far away from her. 

Starting over is equally as exhausting as it is exciting but, Mingyu keeps his chin up throughout the process. Making an empty house his new home, working his job as if his entire intimate life didn’t just fall apart, and of course, preparing himself to mingle with the new neighbors. 

A month after moving, Mingyu had made platter after platter of food for neighbors as his greeting in an attempt to make friends. Many accepted and returned his dishes washed and unscratched. All are friendly to him but, the majority of people in this neighborhood are middle aged and a bit out of his league. There is one pair of neighbors who appear more around his age though, and interested in actual friendship with him. The pair who brought his dishes back full of their own offer of a decent dinner for him to eat on his own time. 

Despite the majority of people living on this street being polite and fond of him as a newcomer, this specific couple appears to be the only ones without an entire family. Just like Mingyu. No children, free time to go out on the weekends, no minivans or babysitters coming every day during working hours. Naturally, he internally clings to the idea of them being his new friends, because his old group of friends consisted of his ex fiancée and her tight-knit group of pompous women and their boy toys. 

Seungcheol is the husband’s name, and briefly he met you alongside him a few times. He assumes you must have your own interests to cater to, because each time he finds himself on his own front porch with Seungcheol talking and joking around, you rarely come with him. Save for the one or two times you did stay to hang out for a couple of hours.

After a few months, he’s managed to sprout friendship with the man next door who has a pretty wife with a ring on her finger. Mingyu tries not to internalize that he was supposed to be living the way Seungcheol is. Maybe he’s a bit jealous of the happiness in Seungcheol’s eyes when he talks about you, or maybe it makes him feel like he either wasn’t good enough as a partner, or his ex simply just didn’t love him anymore. 

Still, even with the slight jealousy, Mingyu is comfortable around him. He’s never clicked with another man so quickly in terms of friendship, at least not without several shots of hard liquor to get himself comfortable. It’s definitely different with his neighbor. 

The guy is open, kind, and occasionally pretty funny. He comes over a few nights a week with the claim of “man-time”. It’s been at least fifteen times since he officially met Seungcheol and comfort comes alongside him when he sits on this porch and they fuck around about menial things. Hanging out with him is arguably like a breath of fresh air. 

Seungcheol though, he takes note of a lot of things that Mingyu doesn’t quite seem to notice himself. One, any time he mentions his wife, Mingyu’s eyes falter a bit. Two, he is clearly a single man and Seungcheol can’t quite grasp why that is because he’s a handsome dude, with a level personality. Three, there are slight self-deprecating jokes coming from Mingyu at least five times an hour and it’s starting to make him wonder. At first it can be funny, but after a while it kind of stops being a joke. 

So, here they are, joking and having a nice conversation on Mingyu’s porch. It’s a Friday night and Seungcheol assumes they’re close enough by this point to really talk. You’re in the back of his mind, making offers, smirking about the new neighbor, laying down the interest flat out after merely meeting with him a few times. If Mingyu really is a single man, and if he’s as open minded as he seems, perhaps laying down some hints and an invite can help him out of this clear slump that he tries to pretend he’s not in. 

“What about you? Do you have someone in your life?” Seungcheol asks after a solid twenty minutes of gushing about you. Internally knowing what he says about you is true, but also trying to sell the idea of how wonderful and sexy you are. He leans back as he studies Mingyu, noting the way he stiffens at the question. 

Again, it’s clear that Mingyu is a single man with the way he’s always in this house alone before and after work. On the weekends, he’s sitting on his porch waiting for Seungcheol to come join him. Sometimes there’s a doubt though, because looking at him, anyone would believe he is taken. He is down to earth, funny, kind, handsome as hell. Maybe he does see people and Seungcheol just never catches it. 

“Ah, no,” Mingyu avoids eye contact, trying to laugh it off as he confirms Seungcheol’s suspicions. He wants to talk about what happened though. He hasn’t been able to talk about it, and honestly, Seungcheol seems like a trusted friend at this point. “I was with someone for six years, asked her to marry me, and then we broke it off. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Oh yeah? Starting over, huh?” Seungcheol nods politely at him, figuring something like this may have happened. “Can I ask what happened?”

Mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, looking at Seungcheol with a carefree face and a smile.

“She wasn’t the most faithful, you know how it goes with those sorts of things, I guess.” 

Seungcheol studies his face a bit more, seeing straight through that carefree attitude and noting the immense amount of hurt Mingyu must feel. 

“I don’t, actually.” Seungcheol starts, watching Mingyu’s brow rise in confusion. 

“Oh, that’s lucky.” He responds with a defeated shrug, almost wanting to roll his eyes. “You might be the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t dealt with infidelity at some point. Even just as a teenager.”

“On the contrary,” Seungcheol says with a smirk, leaning towards Mingyu as if he has a secret to tell. “We fuck other people all the time.”

Mingyu stares at him as he processes those words. Unsure of it that means they both are cheating out of spite, or if they’re about to divorce or something. 

“Sometimes in the same bed.” 

Oh. 

“At the same time.”

Seungcheol dead pan stares at Mingyu, searching for a reaction to his words. There have been many times where he and his wife invite someone to their bedroom, and many more times where the person ended up so freaked out that they ghosted the entire situation. Perhaps out of fear that Seungcheol doesn’t know what he’s doing with his wife. Many people can’t seem to fathom that possessiveness, jealousy, and competition aren’t part of the deal. 

You married Seungcheol and he married you long after the two of you started doing this. The trial period was over before it even started. He loved watching you be pleasured, and you loved the way he looked at you as it happened. Of course, not all of the sex involves other people, but it never hurts the marriage when a third shows up. 

“Oh–” Mingyu swallows around his dry throat, mind running in several directions at once. He’s not sure how to respond to that information. “That’s cool, I guess.”

Seungcheol stays silent, smirking a bit at the way Mingyu, so huge and broad, stutters to find the words to say. It’s not like he straight up invited him, not yet at least. 

“I couldn’t imagine doing that, considering I just left my fiancée for fucking someone else.” 

Seungcheol nods both understandingly and apologetically. People do tend to mix up the two. Is it cheating when he watches another man or woman fuck you? To some people, yeah but, monogamy is natural for many people. 

“I assume she didn’t tell you that she would be fucking someone else.” Seungcheol shrugs, leaning back again. “I can imagine that even if she did tell you, you’d not have allowed it, right?”

Mingyu nods. 

“It puts my stomach in knots to think of someone I love wanting to be with someone else.” 

“That’s fair,” Seungcheol starts, glancing away and thinking of how to word what he wants to say. “What if someone else wanted you to fuck the person they love?”

Mingyu freezes again, unsure of if he’s thinking too hard about that question, or not enough. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks defensively, looking his neighbor dead in the eye. 

“I’m not saying you have to take up this offer but, I mean, you’re a single guy. I’m a married guy, with a wife who is incredibly curious about you.” 

Mingyu continues to process the words, still overthinking it. 

“Is this a joke?” He asks in a quieter voice, whispering as if the entire neighborhood can hear them. 

“Are you attracted to her?” Seungcheol continues to press, wondering what it’ll take to get a simple yes or no out of him. He notes the way Mingyu’s ear goes red, and can’t tell if it’s because of the offer or because he’s afraid to call another man’s wife attractive.

“Here, let me rephrase,” He starts over, leaning forward again. “My wife thinks you’re, in her own words, ‘beautiful.’ She asks about you every time I come home from hanging out here, and she’s starting to get persistent.”

Mingyu, still at a loss for words, slowly nods. 

“She’s pretty, yeah.” He says, now leaning himself toward Seungcheol and raising a brow in curiosity. 

“As a single man, are you looking for love or are you looking for fun?” Seungcheol continues, prying answers out of him and smiling at the way it seems he was right in believing there is interest here.

“I just got out of a six year relationship, I’m not trying to do all of that again,” Mingyu shakes his head in disappointment. “Not for now, at least.”

“So, do you want to fuck my wife?”

Silence. 

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily, seemingly frustrated.

“Look, does it help to know that I want to watch you fuck my wife?”

Louder silence. 

“Okay, you clearly need some time to think. Just, if you’re ever interested let me know. I can open the blinds if you want, like a sample or something.”

Seungcheol can see the way his eyes glisten at that offer through his silence. The wavering interest igniting right then and there. Ah, a voyeur, what a perfect addition to this neighborhood of dry vanilla cake. It’s not strange at all to see a monogamous man watching his footing in this situation, but the offer to watch is an entirely different thing from an offer to join right off the bat. Especially since there needs to be boundaries set if he decides he does want to fuck you.

For instance, when did he last get tested? Considering he got duped by his ex, that’s important. Does he like it raw? Does he know the ass belongs to Seungcheol? Etcetera. 

“Can you say something? I’m starting to feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Ah, sorry. It’s just–” Mingyu leans back with a sigh of relief at the general questioning being over and done with. “Yeah, I need to think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard,” Seungcheol laughs. “It’s getting late so, if you need me I’ll be fucking my wife.”

Mingyu watches him stand on his feet and follows the action. Feeling both closer to him and also in a rut of wondering if their entire friendship will rely on whether he wants to fuck his wife or not. Should he like, hug him goodbye or something?

He stands awkwardly as Seungcheol studies him even more. 

“Just think about it, really. She loves being watched too, if you don’t want to be involved directly.” 

God, he can feel how red his ears and face have become, surely Seungcheol knows by now that the interest outweighs the concerns. And as Seungcheol turns to head down the steps, he calls out to him. 

“Let’s say I’m interested but unsure of how to go about it, what then?”

Seungcheol turns to him and smiles, taking a few steps closer so that he doesn’t have to yell out to him. 

“It’s sex. If you know how to fuck, you fuck.“

“And if I’m not entirely ready to throw myself into your marital bed?” 

“Just let me know, like I said, opening the curtains isn’t the most insane sexual practice.”

Mingyu being the person looking through those curtains though…is it really not as insane as he’s thinking it is?

~

“So…?” You ask as soon as Seungcheol comes through the door, clinging to him with doe-eyes and a smile. 

“He seems interested but,” Your husband slides off his shoes and heads straight for the couch to lay against it in a huff. “I don’t know. Just found out his ex cheated on him after like six years, I think the whole idea spooked him.”

“Ah, damn.” You look to the floor, and then make your way onto the couch with him. “What did you say?”

“I asked him if he wanted to fuck you.”

You narrow your eyes at him before rolling them with a frustrated sigh. 

“Why would you ask him straight up like that? I cannot believe you pride yourself in being the talker of our sex life. It’s no wonder we have trouble finding people to join.”

Seungcheol looks at you with a fond smirk.

“Would you feel better if I told you that he admitted to thinking you’re pretty?”

You smile, warming up next to your husband and feeling entirely safe here. 

“What about if I told you that right before I came back home, he said he was interested and just didn’t know how to go about it?” 

A bigger smile forms on your face as you look up at him, devious eyes glistening in the warm lighting of your living room. 

“I offered that he can just watch instead. If he takes up that offer, it won't be long before he’s banging on our front door ready to show us a good time.”

You reach up to brush some of his fringe out of his face before releasing a dreamy sigh. 

“He’s so big. Like, even from here I can tell he must be packing. I hope you’re right.” You say as Seungcheol rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that Mingyu is your type and you’re probably never gonna shut up about him.  “Can’t believe someone cheated on that.” 

“Alright, alright.” He playfully complains, shoving you back against the couch and practically smothering you with his form as he flops down on you. “He hasn’t accepted yet, save those compliments for if he joins. He seems pretty shy, probably likes to be doted on.”

“Ooh, shy?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. He was actually stuttering when I made the offer, I don’t think he noticed how red his face got.”

You chuckle at the mental image of Mingyu being shy. You only had to meet him a few times to grow interest in him, but on first glance you’d think he would be the dominant type. It’s a welcome change that your husband thinks he’s the opposite.

“Do you think If I joined you next time, he might be more inclined to pull it out or something?”

“Absolutely not. I can imagine he wouldn’t even come out of his house if he saw you on his porch after what I said to him.”

“God, he’s cute.”

Seungcheol nods against you in agreement, finally pulling his weight from you and standing on his feet. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun to see where this leads. Now if you’ll just follow me to the bedroom, I also told him I’d be fucking you tonight so I’d like to make good on my promise.” 

Fortunately for you, Seungcheol never makes a promise that he can’t keep.

~

For days Mingyu contemplates the things his neighbor said. Over the short time he’s known him, he clicked into friendship so easily and felt like he could trust him. Apparently, Seungcheol felt the same way because spilling all of those intimate details right there during a regular hang out was a bit out of the blue. Then again, he can’t imagine a married man would simply offer for anyone to fuck his wife, so the pros definitely outweigh the cons of this situation.

If it was a joke, he thinks he would know by now. All he’s gotten from Seungcheol since then is pleasant conversation as if the offer was never made to begin with. Which somehow makes it worse because he wants to talk about it. He wants more clarity. 

God, since then, he’s had nothing but intrusive thoughts of fantasies he’s never considered before. He’s so horny out of his mind on a daily basis thinking about it, especially now that he doesn’t have his ex fiancée around. Porn has never been so loved by him until now. Even when he was a teenager, he never jerked off this much just to calm his thoughts. 

The various types of porn he’s viewed within the past five days is insane. The post-nut guilt hit him pretty hard at first, sending him into both a sex crazed and sex starved stupor but, the interest only heightened from there as he would eventually start searching up porn related to the exact thing he’s been offered. 

On the sixth night of contemplation, he peeks through his blinds at the house next door and notes the silence. He knows some wild things must happen in that bedroom and he wants to know what it is. Naturally, he starts searching up some keywords without really knowing what any of it entails. 

He watches cuckold video after cuckold video, feeling his opinions of fucking another man’s wife validated by the amount of people who seem to love it the way he wants to. Then, exhibitionism comes into play. He watches at least ten videos involving said kink, his cock growing so pathetically hard at the fact that this could be a reality if he wants. Then, voyeurism.

Good lord, that’s him. All of these videos, at least in the ten more he watches, he can easily put himself in the shoes of watching. Which only makes it more arousing when he lands on a video that is clearly scripted, but entirely too similar to what his kind neighbors offered. 

There, a man watches through his window, palming himself as a woman gets absolutely railed against her own window. The camera pans to and from both ends of the scenario, for five minutes he watches the woman get fucked from the man’s window view, and then for another five minutes, he watches the man pleasure himself from her view. 

He watches intently, weeping cock twitching each time he closes his eyes and realizes that if he wanted it, that could be him. He could be the stranger in his window watching his neighbors get eachother off, except Mingyu isn’t a stranger. 

He doesn’t even need to watch the video to imagine now. Thousands upon thousands of videos comfort him in the idea that yeah, maybe involving himself in a marriage that isn’t his own is okay. Seungcheol is a handsome guy, and pretty beefed up himself. Then there’s you, such a pretty fucking woman, walking around like you don’t like to get fucked by multiple people as your husband watches.

Goddamn, if there’s any couple he’d want to be involved with, it would be you and your husband. 

Okay, maybe he’s interested and maybe that interest plays out the next day. Or rather, the next evening. Another Friday night, when Seungcheol usually comes over to hang out except this time Mingyu doesn’t respond to his texts until much later. Out of both nervousness and his own mind games hyping himself up. 

If he’s gonna watch, he doesn’t want Seungcheol to see him a mere hour or two before it happens, at least. 

Now though, ten at night, he hyped up his cock the same way he hyped up his mentality. When he’s horny, it’s much easier for him to work up the courage to lay down his own hints, to show his own interest, and to play along with things he’s never delved into. 

Mingyu: Hey um 

Seungcheol: here I was thinking you were ignoring me or something

Mingyu: can i ask about something?

Hell yeah he can. 

Seungcheol: oh? you finally warmed up to the idea? 

Mingyu: i’m just curious. 

Seungcheol peeps out his own window to see Mingyu’s blinds very quickly close.

Seungcheol: why’d you back away from the window? 

Mingyu: i don’t know, i feel like a weirdo

Seungcheol: i invited you to watch me fuck my wife, Mingyu. 

No response.

There’s a few moments of silence on Seungcheol’s end as he turns to you and flicks his head to the window. 

“I’m ninety percent sure he wants me to fuck you in front of that window right now.” 

“Oh?” You perk up in interest, hopping up from the bed and running over to the window beside your husband and peeking out. “Open them up then. If he watches, he watches.”

Seungcheol nods, looking down at the silence of his text messages and smirking. You’re right, if Mingyu wants to watch, he will. 

And so, as you go make yourself up in the bathroom for a good first impression, Seungcheol is quick to work himself up now too. Given, the two of you were about to call it a night and simply sleep since the day was quite exhausting, this is a welcome change of events. After all, Seungcheol knows how you act when you’re both horny and exhausted. He’s sure Mingyu will love it if he works up the courage to just look.

After a few minutes more of silence from Mingyu’s message box, you make your way back into the room and stare at the window. 

“Is his bedroom lined up with ours?” You ask, quirking a brow. 

“I assume so, yeah.” Seungcheol shrugs, still palming against himself lazily to get ready to put on a show.

“Oh, this could be really fun.” You say, now moving toward the window and pulling at the curtains to move them completely from Mingyu’s presumed view. 

Seungcheol follows suit, raising the blinds so fast that the sound is almost laughable.

“Should I go ahead and take off my clothes, or?” You ask now, noting the way Mingyu’s blinds are still very much closed. 

“Put this on, tie it loosely and let it fall open for him.” Seungcheol smiles, handing you the silk robe you only ever wear when a third is joining you. 

“Oooh, perfect. Let him pine for it.” You laugh with a wiggle of your brows, stepping away from the window to completely undress and put on the robe. 

Seungcheol finally texts Mingyu again when you get yourself situated, right there in the view of his dark and silent home. 

Seungcheol: blinds are open, feel free to watch.

Thank god Mingyu has read receipts on, because right as Seungcheol goes to lock his phone and play with you, he notes that it’s been read and instantly glues himself against your back. 

“He read the messages, keep your eyes at his window, see if he watches.” Seungcheol whispers before snaking an arm around you and slipping it under your robe to instantly rub against your clit. 

You do exactly as he says, gluing your eyes to the window directly across from you as you slightly spread your legs and grip the windowsill. Seungcheol is good at this, always great with putting on a show too. You know for a fact that even if Mingyu doesn’t watch, you’re going to be seeing stars whenever your husband deems it appropriate. 

“You think he’s gonna do it?” You ask curiously, trying not to immediately lose yourself to the feeling of his fingers against your clit, or the hand he’s currently slipping through your robe to grope and squeeze your tits. 

“We can only hope, until then, just enjoy it.” Seungcheol smiles against your neck, kissing the back of it before resting his chin on your shoulder, trying to work you up to where you start to slowly lose your sanity like you always do. 

It works out perfectly for him, knowing that whether Mingyu watches or not, he’s going to make damn sure you’re taken care of. His fingers expertly slide up and down the delicate folds of your arousal, and his other hand pinches and rolls your nipple to the point that it’s swollen and sensitive. His kisses against your neck become peppered and gentle as he feels your legs start to shake a bit each time his fingers reach your clit again. 

You try to turn your head to look at him, but he laughs again. 

“No, keep your eyes on the window.” He says in a raspy whisper, pressing his barely clothed cock against your ass. Thankfully, he’s adjusted himself to where just the tip pokes out of his boxers and feeling the coolness of the silk robe offer a delicate sensation, it satiates his needs for now. “Feels good even like this, right?” He asks, sliding his fingers down to tease with your hole. 

You nod against him, breathing in deeply and turning to jelly against him. You love and hate the way he makes your body react. It’s hard to keep your eyes on that window across from you when you’re being offered sheer arousal right behind you. 

“Mm, you always get so wet when you know someone might be watching.” Your husband compliments you, dipping his fingers in before sliding them out again and running them up to swirl around your clit with more pressure than before. “God, you’re really soaking my fingers already babe, he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on–”

You let out a small moan, frustrated that you want Seungcheol to be right. If only Mingyu would take the two of you up on the offer. If only he would actually glimpse even for a moment. You clench at the idea of those blinds opening, grinding harshly against Seungcheol’s hand with a desperate sort of sound. 

Right then, you see movement next door. Seungcheol can tell with the way your pussy grips his fingers tightly when he slides them back into you, and you let out a genuine and desperate moan. He flicks his eyes up, now noting the movement himself. 

The way you writhe your body at the mere confirmation that Mingyu is watching is insanely erotic to your husband. Whether it’s out of curiosity or if it’s out of arousal, it doesn't matter. He loves the way you get so turned on so fast, and with this being the situation, he’s not surprised that you seem more desperate than usual. Plus, the fact that those blinds stay parted shows that Mingyu likes what he’s seeing, and you couldn’t be more aroused by the thought of what he must be doing behind the veil of his own window-blinds. 

Seungcheol chuckles gently in your ear as you continue to lose your mind on his fingers, he can tell that now you’re moving to turn both him and Mingyu on, rather than just him like moments ago. You grind more, you whine more, you get increasingly more wet. 

And as you stare forward to the little space in Mingyu’s window where his eyes sit, you grow more and more frustrated with the way he doesn’t open the blinds up. You want to see him too, you need to see how he likes to touch himself. 

Seungcheol can tell through your frustrated moans that you need more, and like the doting husband he is, he offers a solution fairly quickly. 

“What’s wrong?” He coos, fucking his fingers in again at an angle, deepening them inside of you and holding your waist in place. “He’s not giving you what you want, is he?”

You nod brokenly, finally tearing your eyes from the window and shooting a pleading look to your husband, rolling your eyes back only slightly when his fingertips bump the soft and sensitive spot inside of you. 

“Use my phone, text him.” Seungcheol smiles, holding your waist in place tighter so he can fuck his fingers in at a harsher pace. You tremble in his grasp, unsure if you can even process the idea of texting right now. “Tell him to let you see him.”

You nod, smiling through the sensitivity of your g-spot being repeatedly assaulted, clearly on purpose, surely to have you going fucking feral. Reaching for the phone, your hands are trembling as you unlock it and read over the messages from before with Mingyu. His curiosity is hopefully strong enough to actually stick around for the next however long, because god, you want him to see you fall apart. 

Seungcheol: open your blinds, let me see

Mingyu watches you text as your body jerks with each hidden movement of Seungcheol’s hand under that robe, and when his phone goes off he almost panics. Almost. He drops his length and grabs his phone in one hand while using the other to keep the split of his blinds open enough to keep watching. Fighting the feeling of appearing like a damn stalker, despite his hips rubbing his achingly hard cock against the trim of the window. 

The way Seungcheol stares from behind you, the way you smirk through faces of pleasure at what he’s doing to you, at what he must be saying to you. Mingyu has never felt so fucking aroused watching someone have what he wants. The way you skew your head to listen to what your husband is saying, the way his hands move to places he can’t see. Arguably, you look like the most fuckable person on this planet at the moment and it’s incredibly difficult to not want to fuck something, anything, right now.

Mingyu knows he’s done for if he so much as grips his own cock by now. So quickly the thought of doing this made his pathetic cock weep against his briefs, and now, seeing it happen in real time just across the yard. Yeah, he could come within seconds if he doesn’t try to control it. Upon reading your text though, he finds himself following precise directions and opens the blinds for you to reveal himself. 

His face flushes seeing you in full without the blinds cutting off his peripheral vision. It kind of hits him differently realizing he’s in his own quiet bedroom fucking himself to the image of you propped up against the window for him. It’s embarrassing and he feels entirely pathetic when you look at him like this. Both so far away and so close at the same time. His senses are heightened tenfold the moment he sees you react. 

An accidental moan splills from his lips, the sound breaking the heavy silence of his home and echoing through the walls as if to tell whatever ghosts that live here that he definitely wants to fuck around with the married couple next door. Your attraction to him only heightens the confidence he holds within himself.

You, on the other hand, can feel your arousal drip out of you and onto your husband’s hand at seeing Mingyu coming into full view. Your hand grips at your husband’s, clumsily allowing yourself to feel the sheer force of how his fingers are plunging into you just at the right moment. You roll your head back briefly, basking in the pleasure of being fucked and watched.

“Don’t look away babe,” Seungcheol says, flicking his eyes to Mingyu. “He’s so hard.”

You weakly lift your head again, opening your darkened eyes and looking directly at the man through the window. His hair is a mess, fanning across his forehead, and he’s shirtless, revealing the abs you only assumed he had at first glance. His cock is heavy against his dark gray briefs, stretching the fabric out enough to tell you that, yeah, he is packing. 

You make eye contact with him, staring straight into his eyes as you press your ass back and against Seungcheol, who readily accepts the movement and presses his cock directly against you with a soft sigh of his own. 

“Already?” He whispers to you with an amused chuckle, stilling his fingers and dropping his other hand to toy at the tie of your robe, hopefully so it falls open naturally at a quicker pace now that you appear to be losing it. 

“Right now.” You respond in a desperate voice, hiking one leg up against the table off to the side and feeling your robe instantly fall open. 

Your eyes devour the image of Mingyu’s mouth falling open in what you can only assume is a moan at your naked body being revealed to him. Instantly, you shoot your hand to your chest and start toying with one of your nipples for him. Shooting a hungry gaze straight across the way and making obvious suggestions at him through it. 

Seungcheol from behind you is seemingly in his own little world when he shoves his boxers down and arches your back with his palm so that your ass lifts for him, instantly you can feel his cock between your legs. He takes a step back, pulling you with him and removing your leg from the table to position you in a way that if Mingyu looks hard enough, he can see the way his cock will slide beautifully between your thighs. 

“Not yet babe, let’s play first.” Seungcheol soothes you through the disappointed sigh of your leg being pulled down. You were so ready to start fucking immediately, but of course he wants to make a good first impression. “Hold your legs together.”

You listen perfectly, feeling Seungcheol’s cock slide easily between your thighs. 

“God, fuck–” He moans, feeling the wetness of you drip down onto his length as you squeeze your thighs together as tightly as possible. “He would go insane over you.”

“He already is,” You chuckle weakly, staring at the way Mingyu’s hand snakes under his briefs and tugs against himself. “I want to see it so bad.” 

“Mm, yeah, I bet you do.” Seungcheol responds mindlessly, loving the feeling your thighs offer to his desperate length. “Tell him then.”

Right then, Mingyu can see a mischievous little smile form across your lips as he struggles already not to release against his perfectly cleaned window. The way Seungcheol manhandles you is one thing, with his big hands gripping onto your flesh just to pound his cock between your legs– fuck. But, the way both of you stare straight at him is another. Mingyu might be obsessed with the way the two of you touch each other intentionally to get all three of you off. So badly does he want to be right there in the room, hearing you in his ear, watching Seungcheol kiss across your skin and massage your pretty sensitive pussy. One that he hasn’t entirely even gotten to see yet. 

Then, he jumps as his phone rings. 

From your end, you watch as he jumps out of surprise, glances at his phone, then back at you, shaking his head with a wince as he grips his cock again. 

“He’s not going to pick up.” You comment as the tightened squeeze of your thighs loosen up with disappointment. 

Seungcheol is instantly smiling, letting his cock fall from its place of stimulation and is pulling you back, back, back. Offering a full view of him falling back on the bed, with you falling with him. 

“Show him your pussy.” Seungcheol says, reaching around you to open your thighs as if you’re a grand prize for this little sex game of trying to seduce a broken hearted man.

Seungcheol knows he has an entire list of positions he could do to get Mingyu just as desperate as you get. Usually, presenting his wife’s pussy at another man is enough to have them making decisions they previously doubted. He hopes Mingyu reacts the same, because if he’s being totally honest with himself, saying no to you when you’re spread out like this is a fucking sin.

You stare at Mingyu when your husband spreads your legs, pussy pulsing around nothing more than the stare being directed at it. And there, sitting on Seungcheol’s hips with your back facing him, you easily hold your legs open and slide your fingers down to circle your clit. 

You stay like that for a moment, squinting to see Mingyu’s reaction and noting the way his hand fucks faster under the fabric of his briefs. You want him to go harder, so hard that he needs to take that last remaining bit of clothing off of him so that you can see. Thankfully, Seungcheol’s cock lies right below where your ass is sitting , and it’s easy to grasp it and hold it up against your folds. You grid against it gently before swirling your clit along the length of him, still staring at Mingyu with a smile. As if to tell him, “this could be you.”

The way Mingyu’s hand moves faster is one thing, the way he looks more unashamed now compared to when you first saw him in that window is another. The way his arms flex as he keeps his cock hidden beneath those briefs, jerking himself off desperately as if you can’t tell he’s struggling not to moan loud enough for you to hear even from here, it’s too fucking erotic. 

Never have you and your husband had a neighbor to play with like this. Typically, you’re being watched in the same room, this is something entirely different. This is insanely arousing and you can feel your pussy clench each time you’re reminded of how fucking sweet this deal could be.

“Play with yourself,” Seungcheol continues to instruct through a half-moan, feeling the way you rub his length against you as a form of masturbation. “I’ll call him again.” 

This time, you note how the phone rings once before Mingyu is fumbling to answer. You see the way his hand stills to put his focus on saying “hello?” as if he doesn’t know it’s you and your husband. As if the people calling him aren’t watching him fuck himself. 

Seungcheol starts immediately though, his words driving you insane enough to know Mingyu would have to react in a way that sends him over edge too.

“You wouldn’t believe how wet she is,” Your husband boasts without greeting him back, putting the phone on speaker and lying it next to the two of you. “I bet you would love to bury your tongue in her right now, wouldn’t you?”

Mingyu nearly stutters as he hears the words, staring at the way you hold Seungcheol’s cock right where you want it to grind against. It’s so much to be able to see and hear what’s happening, and it’s like something in his head clicks. He’s so fucking turned on that he feels like he’s going insane, so he puts his normal, level-minded self to rest. No room for embarrassment when his cock is already aching for the couple who seem to want him just as bad. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Mingyu sighs out, lying his own phone down against the window sill and fucking his hips forward into his hand. His briefs now stretched out to the point that they truly are more of an issue than anything else right now. “I would, god, how wet?”

You moan at how desperate his voice sounds, now pressing your clit directly against the head of Seungcheol’s cock and deliberately making yourself moan from pleasure. When he flashes his cock to you though, fuck. Just barely he lowers his briefs, palm teasing himself in such a harsh way. He looks so pretty over there, all alone, watching someone else get to play with you like some kind of pervert. 

“That’s it,” You say, knowing he can hear you. “Let me see you.” 

Mingyu does, shoving his briefs down entirely now, allowing you to imprint the image of how thick and heavy his length is in your brain permanently. 

“I can already imagine how good it would feel to have you stretching me out,” You half-groan, now inching your husband’s cock straight to your hole and preparing to fuck the daylights out of him. “I knew you’d have a cock just as pretty as you.”

Seungcheol chuckles from behind you, entirely aroused by the way you talk to another man, a more shy man. He can tell how desperate you are by now too, especially with the way you toy with his cock as if you picked it up from a store shelf and it’s not attached to him. He loves it. And when he sits up, wrapping his arms around you to also see Mingyu, he smiles. 

Fucking both of you are totally gone. Even from here he can tell Mingyu is losing his mind over you. Thankfully, you deserve nothing less and Seungcheol couldn’t be happier to play off of the way you both seem to want each other terribly. 

“See this?” He says, snaking his hand around you to move his cock and spreading your pussy lips.”Can you not see how wet she is?”

Both of you can hear Mingyu’s muffled groan before you see it, his head falling forward against the window as he stares down at his hand and the way he fucks it. You’re entirely satisfied, because you know what he’s thinking. You can see how badly he wants it, and your husband does nothing but remind him of it. 

“Do you want me to fuck him?” You finally ask, pushing your own agenda and raising up on your knees to situate yourself right above Seungcheol’s length, where he takes over and holds it in place for you. 

Mingyu’s eyes shoot back to the two of you and he nods before breathing out a small “Yeah…”

He doesn’t seem like much of a talker, but it could still be stage fright. Even if he isn’t the one on the damn stage. You can imagine he would get better at this if he accepts the invite of your open blinds on more than one occasion. 

Seungcheol chuckles again at him, the breathy tone of his voice is quite obvious to him. Mingyu is holding out, he doesn’t want to come too soon and end the fun.

“You heard him babe, ride me.” 

Instantly, you’re sinking down and feeling the harsh stretch of Seungcheol’s cock pulsing inside of you. Your drawn out moan rings in Mingyu’s mind as he watches the slow descent. Only now noting how big Seungcheol’s length is, and seeing how well you take it. He twitches in his palm, eyes nearly rolling back to escape the overwhelming arousal that floods his thoughts. 

Mingyu isn’t sure if either of you are aware, but he can hear how wet you are through the phone. When you slide down and start bouncing your ass, all while staring forward at him, he can hear it pour out of you. The slapping of your ass landing against Seungcheol is a beautiful sound, and he does his best not to moan through it and muffle those sounds out. 

He stares straight back at you, thinking hard enough at how he fucks the circle his fingers create. He’s losing his breath when he fucks his fist in time with the way you bounce, tuning into your face and imagining that he’s the one you’re riding. No offense to Seungcheol, it’s nearly like he doesn’t exist right now considering he’s almost entirely hidden by you. 

That doesn’t last too long though, because Seungcheol makes himself well known through his breathy words. Dirty talking in a way that somehow, Mingyu still finds himself shocked by it. The words turn him on, he can only imagine how you feel about. 

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight. I bet you’d love to be spread out for both of us,” Seungcheol says at first, gripping your thighs and basking in the way you squeeze his length each time Mingyu does something to turn you on. “Don’t you think he would love to feel how you drip from this?”

Mingyu feels so shameless, and for some reason it feels okay. Your husband is dirty talking to you about him and it’s insanely sexy when he hears it. Already stuttering his hips in his palm, especially when he notes that Seungcheol moves his hands to your pussy and spreads it open again for him. Offering him the perfect view of his length sliding in and out of you. 

“Would love to see how this pussy gets filled up, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Unsure of if Seungcheol is talking to you or to him at this point, Mingyu answers without thinking. 

“Fuck, fuck. Yeah–” Mingyu says with a cut-off groan, holding the base of his cock so tight he feels like he can’t breathe. He can’t release yet, he has to keep going. 

You moan loudly at his breathed out answer, nodding your head frantically at the confirmation, answering for yourself shortly after. 

“You’d make me come so fast, Gyu, I know you’d know how to fuck me,” You start, not realizing the shortened version of the name you’d called out.

And then he moans brokenly through the phone which instantly has you leaning yourself back, and lying against Seungcheol’s chest. He falls back with you, holding you and once again and moving his fingers to your clit, his cock still pounding in at the perfect pace. 

“Fuck, she’s there–” Seungcheol grits out, feeling your orgasm wash over you and grip his cock insanely tightly. “Goddamn, feels so good babe, that’s right.”

Mingyu, watching and listening, instantly releases the grip on the base of his cock, staring straight at the way Seungcheol stuffs his length inside of you. The nickname you called him echoes in his head, and then he stutters out a broken sob as he feels his own orgasm wash over him, and just like him, you’re also listening. 

He must hold his breath when he’s close, or maybe he’s just way more shy than he appears to be, considering what he’s doing right now, but you don’t mind as you ride your own high. Ears popping shortly after when Seungcheol continues to chase his own pleasure within your dripping heat. 

Strangely enough, even Seungcheol is shocked at how fast he comes from this. Releasing a mere two seconds after you relaxed around him. You can feel him pulse inside of you as you lie against him, pussy still on full display, cum dripping out of you in a beautiful scene for Mingyu’s eyes to devour.

And devour, they do. Mingyu just stares, head spinning as he ignores the spurts of cum hitting his window and dripping down onto his carpet. His hand is also drenched in his own heat and he makes no attempt to move afterwards. Arguably, he’s still aroused by the image of the way your husband fills you up with his own seed, and the way you’re so full of his cock that it dribbles out and onto your thighs. 

God, he wants to lick you so bad. Even now, fully spent and his sober-mind coming back to him, he wants to taste you. 

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, breaking the silence with an out of breath voice. “You still watching?”

There’s another moment of paused silence.

“Yes– I am.” 

Seungcheol smiles, nuzzling his face against you and your neck as you continue to lean against him out of breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, once again spreading you open for Mingyu to see, allowing the rest of his cum to drip out of you. 

“Take a good look, because this pussy went fucking insane over you.” 

Mingyu does look. He has been looking. Honestly, it’s almost embarrassing at the way his cock twitches with interest again, so fucking fast after having already been emptied. 

“I’ll be coming over tomorrow to discuss this.” Seungcheol adds nonchalantly, easily going from filth-talk to casual-talk. “Get some rest.” 

“Goodnight, Pretty boy,” You call out with a dazed smile, finally moving yourself off of Seungcheol and adjusting your robe back onto your shoulders. 

And right before Seungcheol hangs up the phone, both of you smile at each other at the way Mingyu lets out, in the tiniest voice for such a big man, a gentle little “Goodnight.” 

~

By morning, Mingyu nearly forgot Seungcheol said he was coming over. It wasn’t until the afternoon when he managed to get the image of you getting off out of his mind that he remembered there’s supposed to be a discussion about it. 

Embarrassment hits him harder than it ever has, thinking about what he was doing for both of you to see. It wasn’t just a show for him, he put one on for the two of you as well. 

When he makes his way back into his bedroom, he tries to ignore the fact that your blinds are still open, and there’s no one in the room. He pauses briefly, once again trapped in the on-going loop of what he saw happening on that very bed just the night before. 

It feels like he’s doomed when Seungcheol comes over. He could just not answer the door but it doesn’t change the fact that he lives right next door and he already came all over his window before your very eyes. Before Seungcheol’s very eyes. He’s already crossed the boundary into someone else’s marriage and despite loving the idea of it, it’s scary. It’s not something he’s ever considered doing before meeting the two of you, and now, he’s kind of just confused as to how all of this works. 

Like, it almost seems too sweet of a deal. You’re a beautiful couple, who is he to be able to watch what you do with your husband? What’s the catch? 

Well, he comes to find out that there isn’t much of a catch at all. Seungcheol shows up with a warm smile and a gift of wine. It felt welcoming but, insanely awkward with the way it’s the first time Mingyu has ever been offered a hug by him.

They hug. Seungcheol fucking hugs him to say hello with that expensive ass bottle of wine as if to say “nice cock, my wife loved it.” 

Seungcheol does pick up on the awkwardness though, stepping through Mingyu’s door and inviting himself in. After all, it’s only appropriate at this point. He keeps his smile though, loving the way you woke up in a good mood all thanks to Mingyu letting his curiosity get the best of him. 

“Don’t be like that,” Seungcheol says, glancing around the house and nodding in approval that it doesn’t appear to be entirely barren. He kind of expected the house to not feel like a home, because that’s usually what single men do. “You can back out anytime you want.”

Mingyu, somehow, feels eased by those words. His heart thumps against his chest at the thought of never doing it again though. Which is kind of weird to him. 

“Sorry, I just don’t really know how to act around you after that.”

Seungcheol offers him a warm smile again, seeing himself to the kitchen and opening the drawers. 

“We can talk about that,” He waves him off, still rummaging through a kitchen that isn’t his own. “You got a corkscrew?” 

Mingyu nods, trying to make his huge frame seem as small as possible by tip-toeing past his neighbor with the huge cock and opening one of the only drawers he didn’t get to. He pulls out the corkscrew and hands it to him, making no attempt to look into his eyes even for a second. 

“Oh my god, loosen up.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, shoving Mingyu by the shoulder playfully and heading back to the bottle of wine.

Mingyu feels slightly comforted by the fact that maybe he can loosen up with a bit of wine in his system, but getting to that point feels like it’s going to be hell. He’s never felt so embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” He responds in a small voice, grabbing two random cups and following Seungcheol. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to expect out of this whole thing, like,” 

Seungcheol cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“That’s why I’m here to talk to you about it. Clearly this isn’t something you’ve done before, it’s not like we didn’t want you to get off or anything. You’ll come to learn that we enjoy this kind of thing.”

He pauses as he opens the bottle, shifting it to the side now to grab two cups and look at Mingyu. 

“If you end up not enjoying it, there’s always someone else we can find to take up the offer.”

Mingyu very nearly panics, hoping it doesn’t show plainly on his face as he takes over pouring the wine. Seungcheol picks up on people so easily, watching Mingyu shake his head slightly at the words and pour a suspiciously nervous amount of wine into both cups. 

“That’s the thing though,” Mingyu says, popping the cork back into the bottle and already taking a swig of his wine. “I did enjoy it.”

Seungcheol raises his brow, nodding his head in encouragement and grabbing his own cup before following Mingyu to his living room.

“Good, I’m glad you had fun. Let’s talk about it then.”

Mingyu knows it’s inevitable, and hopefully within the next hour, he won’t feel so cautious in talking about it.

~

“You know, usually I wouldn’t let her come so fast,” Seungcheol shrugs, standing to grab the bottle of wine and bring it into the living room. “I tend to try and get a few out of her but she just wasn’t going to let me. Did you see the way she grabbed it and sat on me? I couldn’t have stopped her even if I wanted to.” 

The way Seungcheol talks loudly and comfortably about it is kind of soothing. Given, this is probably why they’re opting to hang out inside of the house rather than outside. This is a private matter, an intimate one, even. 

“She slept like a rock afterwards, and is now insisting we keep the blinds open at all times to view at your discretion.” 

Mingyu stutters a bit, scooting his cup towards Seungcheol and hoping he pours another generous amount into his cup. Already, since he doesn’t drink too often these days, he can feel the buzz and comfort settles within him as Seungcheol seemingly dotes on him. 

“What I’m trying to say is, our blinds are permanently open unless you’d rather not do this. Alternatively, the door is open too, but,” Seungcheol pauses so he can sip his drink. “You’re going to need to get tested first if you want that thing anywhere near my wife.”

Mingyu shifts slightly, squeezing his legs together uncomfortably as his wine bubbles in his belly. 

“I’ve already been tested. My ex cheated on me with god knows how many people, you think that wasn’t the first thing I did?”

“Smart man,” Seungcheol claps him on the shoulder, now leaning in a bit too close for comfort if Mingyu were still in his embarrassed mind-state. “We get that you’re shy about all of this, but I’ve gotta tell you, her pussy really did grip every single time you moaned.”

Mingyu’s eyes start to shine at the compliment, for some reason feeling like he’s on top of the world hearing that. 

“Felt like I was being strangled, honestly.” Seungcheol laughs before going quiet. “So, what do you think?”

Mingyu pauses, staring at his cup and then at his neighbor. 

“I, um–” He sighs out of frustration, wondering why he can’t articulate a damn sentence with confidence. “I liked watching, I guess. Not sure if I’m ready to just…”

“Come fuck my wife?” Seungcheol says playfully before immediately gripping Mingyu’s shoulder and laughing fondly at him. “Take your time. Like I said, the blinds are open and we have a pretty active sex life. I can imagine you’re going to wonder how I’m not milked dry yet.”

He already wonders that.

“But I do want to say, if you decide to actually come over and show her a good time, there are rules to that.” 

Mingyu quirks a brow, unsure of if his mind is running in a way that will let him take down mental notes. 

“First of all, she’s protected so as long as you can provide proof of your test you can come in her all you want, she likes that but, you’re not touching her ass.”

Mingyu nods, shrugging nonchalantly and surprised he even responded that way. 

“She likes it rough but she doesn’t know you enough yet. Don’t slap my wife, don’t grab her neck with the intention of choking her, and don’t call her any type of degrading name. Not yet, at least.”

Wow, his brain is actually taking down the mental notes perfectly. Even with these rules, he’s not entirely into hitting the person he wants to be inside of, not unless they ask anyway. 

“That’s it. Those are the rules.” Seungcheol says with a shrug, taking another drink and tapping his foot on the floor. “What about you? For possible future endeavors, what’re your terms?”

There’s a long pause. Mingyu is totally unprepared to make rules for a situation he’s never even been involved with before, but he does his best. 

“Well,” He breathes out, blowing a strand of his fringe up from his forehead in a huff. “I don’t know. Don’t put anything in my ass?”

“That’s no fun,” Seungcheol deadpans, then nods. “But fair, okay. What else?” 

Mingyu continues to let his eyes wander around his living room as he thinks of things he doesn’t like sexually. 

“I really don't know. I’ve mostly just had vanilla sex. I can tell you what I do like?” He admits, knowing that all of this is just in case.

“Alright, go on then.” Seungcheol nods, now topping off their drinks. 

It’s actually hilarious to him, hearing Mingyu list off the most mundane sex acts. He does his best not to chuckle at the mention of “blow jobs, I like those.” Instead, he offers something along with that, interrupting him.

“Ever been deep throated?” Seungcheol asks, watching Mingyu breathe in because it’s like he lost all of his breath trying to list off things he likes. “Like, you know, ever face-fucked?”

Mingyu nods, then shakes his head, then nods. 

“Define both of those. I mean, my ex never really let me hold her head in place, but I tried once. And don’t even get me started on the way she would refuse to continue if she gagged even once.”

Seungcheol shakes his head in pity.

“Man, you’re gonna love my wife.” 

~

Well, to put it lightly, Mingyu might, definitely, insanely, obsessively be in love with you. Not in like the “leave your husband” way but more in like the “i want you so bad and know that i’m allowed to have you if i’d just stop being a little bitch about it” way. 

It’s been another entire week since Seungcheol came over to discuss things with him and even more so now, is Mingyu’s mind in the gutters. He’s thankful he’s good at his job, almost able to do everything needed without much thought behind it because if that weren’t the case, he would probably be fired by now. 

Fired for being too horny at work isn’t something he ever considered would happen to himself, and though it hasn’t and probably won’t, he isn’t too shocked at this point to be learning more and more about these hidden little interests that only came to light when he met you and your husband. 

Those blinds do stay open, and that little bedside lamp in your bedroom has become one of his favorite things. One, because it illuminates the way your body moves when Seungcheol inevitably fucks you, two, because it’s actually a pretty nice lamp and he kind of wants one for his own bedroom. 

And god, his window. His poor fucking window. Four out of the seven nights since Seungcheol came over has he been standing right there, blinds open, getting himself off. He knows he’s a pervert by this point. He embraces it now, knowing for a fact that you’re also embracing it, and even Seungcheol is too. 

The embarrassment that hits him after each time he releases hurts much less than the post-nut guilt of all that porn he was watching before all of this happened. He’s not sure why, but there’s something inside of him that tells him it’s because he’s wanted. He’s being fawned over by an entire married couple and it makes his confidence go through the fucking roof. 

That second time he stood at his window, he was still unsure of it. But now, three more sessions later, he finds himself considering the offer of being in the room. Each time he thinks he should do it. You know, like release his cock mid-jerk off session just to run next door and barge into the room to bury himself inside of you, all while Seungcheol allows it to happen and praises him for manning up to do it. 

He hasn’t yet though, because most of the time he struggles to pull his eyes away from how fucking good the two of you look together. And you know, to him, when he thinks about actually being in that room with the two of you, there’s still some shame left in him about it. 

Something about the idea of joining a married couple despite how much he loves watching them, the idea of them asking him multiple times to work his body on you, the idea of them leaving their blinds open just so he can get off at his own volition. 

It’s such an insane fantasy come to life and the shame he feels about actually following through stays despite it wavering with each time he watches and listens in by calling you himself to hear you moan. 

Again, by now, an entire week later and several sessions of pure voyeurism, he questions that shame and wonders how much it’ll take to ignore it. Next time for sure he’s going to go over there. Next time, he’s going to put that shame to rest like he did the first time with simply watching. 

That next time doesn’t happen though, because you’re not wandering around your room naked for Mingyu to see when his alarm goes off. Because yeah, it’s kind of a ritual now to look out the window and nod a little “good morning” to you and your tits.

When he looks outside near the afternoon, both cars in your driveway are gone and it hits him over how fixated he is on the two of you. It feels almost empty seeing the two of you gone on a weekend, when Seungcheol is usually texting him to see if he wants to hang out. 

By this point for him, yes, come over please. 

Then, relief washes over him when he hears Seungcheol’s car pull into the driveway. The amount of pining within Mingyu at this moment is driving him insane. It’s only four in the afternoon by this point and his mind is reeling. Going miles a minute and honestly, he needs this overwhelming feeling to be eradicated. 

He needs to do it. 

~

Seungcheol is shocked as he sits eating his dinner to the sound of a knock at his door. He’s swift when he stands to his feet and answers it. 

“Oh, was gonna text you to hang out after dinner–” He pauses, realizing this is the first time Mingyu has ever been on his doorstep save for when he greeted them with a meal after he moved in. He eyes him up and down momentarily before smirking. “Well, well, well.” 

Mingyu doesn’t quite make eye contact as he stands there and shoves the proof of his tests into Seungcheol’s chest, already regretting the decision to come over without so much as texting. 

“Showing up looking like this, already hard too?” Seungcheol says snidely, glancing at the results and leaning himself against his door frame. His eyes stare directly at Mingyu’s obvious raging hard-on beneath his pants, then he glances up at his face. 

Mingyu appears to be both ashamed and proud, presenting himself like a damn virgin. 

“Relax, it’s cool. You can come in,” Seungcheol finally says, trying to ease the tension that seems to be festering within his friend. “I’ll call and see if she’s coming home tonight.”

Mingyu is fucking mortified. Of course he’s bad at timing. Of fucking course he shows up ready to fuck and you’re not even here. Now he’s just left standing just inside of the front door with a desperate and pathetic cock that, for some reason, still isn’t even going down. 

“She’s. not. here.” Mingyu says to himself loud enough for Seungcheol to throw a laugh at him, putting the phone up to his ear after pressing the call button.

“She went to see her parents. I bet the second I tell her you’re standing there like that, hot ‘n hard, she’ll be running red lights.” 

Mingyu is flushed. Entirely aroused by this whole situation despite the embarrassment. The last thing he needs to admit to right now though, is getting off on the shameful way he’s acting. He knows he looks desperate, and that…for some reason, makes him feel proud. 

He’s so in his head that he doesn’t even hear Seungcheol talk to you. Completely misses the way he says into the phone “hey babe, guess who is standing in our living room right now? he looks like he might cry.”

Totally misses the brief pause and then Seungcheol’s response of, “yeah, you might wanna rush.”

Luckily for him though, he’s so in his head that time flies as he tries to will his length to go down just a little bit. It’s frustrating, really, to only learn certain things as they happen to him, but like, damn. He really feels like he’s about to burst already, just standing here with a woman’s husband who is knowingly about to let him fuck her. 

“You’re not usually this quiet.” Seungcheol finally says to Mingyu, who is still just standing there in the living room. “Are you nervous?”

Mingyu instantly nods, throwing his hands in front of his hard-on and looking to Seungcheol. 

“This is the worst, actually,” Mingyu starts, shifting from one leg to the other and glancing away. “Fuck you guys for being so enticing.”

Seungcheol shrugs proudly, offering a smile and then nodding his head as if to invite Mingyu to sit on the couch. 

“She’ll be here soon, I’m just going to clean up. Don’t think too hard and take off running, she’s excited.”

Mingyu nods reluctantly, taking a seat on the couch and staring up at the ceiling in defeat. Jumping out a window sounds pretty nice but by this point he assumes every window he will ever touch probably has his cum on it by now. You know, association and stuff. 

Then, he hears a car pull up and he’s practically throwing himself to his feet. His balance turning him into a clumsy mess, totally forgetting how to navigate his large body and entirely losing the ability to know how to navigate this entire situation. 

The good news for him though, is that you practically jump out of your car and sprint for the door. Not even greeting Seungcheol when you rush inside and slip off your shoes. 

All Mingyu knows is that, one second he stands to his feet and gets a head rush, then he hears a door slam, Seungcheol letting out a breathy laugh, and then you slamming into him and practically knocking him back down onto the couch.

“All this time you made me watch? And now you show up when I’m at dinner with my parents.”  You playfully scold him, immediately straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands so that he can look at you. “You’re going to have to tie me up if you don’t want me to be all over you right now.”

Mingyu looks at Seungcheol with a stunned expression, receiving a simple shrug in response. 

“You want her to touch you?” He asks, heading for the bedroom and raising his voice to continue. “If not, I do have rope.”

Mingyu looks at you, still totally stunned by how fucking fast you got on top of him. He’s rendered more speechless than you’ve ever made him, and his cock twitches painfully from the sensitivity of you sitting on top of him. 

He nods politely, dipping his head and looking down. 

“You can touch me.” He whispers, only to be cut off by Seungcheol shouting from the bedroom.

“You guys gonna come into the bedroom, or?” He yells, peeking around the corner and shooting a look at you specifically, as if to remind you to pace yourself considering that Mingyu is entirely new to this and still seems like a deer in the headlights. 

You nod to Seungcheol and then lift Mingyu’s face back up to you again. 

“I can tell your heart is racing,” You say to him in a fond tone, tilting your head playfully. “It’s okay, come on.” You add, pulling yourself off of him and grabbing his hand.

He stares at the way you intertwine your fingers. Feeling like if he thinks hard enough, you’re not married and you’re more into him than just sex. Then again, he doesn’t want to think about that at all. The whole reason he’s so turned on is because this is considered strange to most people he knows. He doesn’t even want to be in love, he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with any single person right now. What he wants is this. What he wants is to watch you through his window, and lust over you, and then get to have you. Time and time again. What he wants is for Seungcheol to always share you with him, because he can barely cross his own boundaries, better yet crossing someone else's. 

At least with him, you’d be safe. Seungcheol wouldn’t have to worry about broken rules or him coming into your home to take full control. This isn’t his relationship, it’s yours, and if the two of you want him involved even with just sex, he’s leaping for the opportunity at this point. 

There, he’s led into the bedroom where Seungcheol looks at him with a fond expression. Mingyu stares for a moment, then looks around the room. It feels like he’s been pining to be in this very room for ages, and knowing he’s standing here right now feels even more overwhelming. 

He glances at the window, looking through it into his own open blinds and the embarrassment hits him twice as hard, which obviously has his cock aching in arousal. He isn’t even ashamed of the little, breathy whimper of defeat he lets out at this moment, rolling his eyes back and furrowing his brows. 

You let go of Mingyu and take your place beside Seungcheol, both of you checking Mingyu out from head to toe before looking at each other and smiling. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Seungcheol admits, feeling defeated that for the first time in his sex life with you, he doesn’t know how to get the ball rolling. “Why does this feel so intimate compared to usual?”

You laugh, now staring down both of them, wanting nothing more than to fuck and be fucked. The air in this room feels electrifying, and already you have goosebumps rising against your skin. It feels like heaven. 

“Probably because he’s so close to home,” You chuckle, feeling totally in control with two lost men staring at you as if they want to eat you alive. “Isn’t that right, Mingyu?” You say, taking a step towards him and already lifting your shirt off of you.

Just as quickly as Seungcheol loses his ability to be the one in control, he gains it back after seeing how confident you are. He knows for a fact how badly you want to be on Mingyu right now, and he has no qualms with that, but part of the fun is being able to present you until the third in the room is practically drooling. 

“Not too quickly,” Seungcheol warns, pulling you back by the arm and wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head down to kiss your neck and look Mingyu directly in the eye. “Watch him for a bit first.”

Mingyu feels so fucking seen right now, his cock still wildly twitching at each word and glance. He very nearly falls to his knees right then, because in all fairness he’s been rock hard all fucking day and intentionally held off so that he would be so out of his mind, that surely he’d fuck you as good as you need him to. 

“Cheol, I’ve been watching him.” You say, leaning against his warmth and devouring Mingyu with your eyes, “C’mere, Gyu.” You add, giving both men shortened versions of their names to show your adoration for them at this moment. 

Mingyu manages to take a step forward without his knees buckling from under him, his eyes scanning your bare torso and the way your chest is hidden by your bra. He can’t not stare, after all, he’s grown accustomed to it by now. He knows what's under that bra and what’s under those pants, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s never seen your body this close. He’s never touched you before. 

“Well?” Seungcheol looks at him as he makes his way across the room a bit too slowly for his liking. “We have all day, technically.”

Mingyu switches his eyes over to Seungcheol, who seems amused by how enamored he is right now with you. His mind is fairly blank right now, outside of thinking about everything he wants to do, everything he wishes he could say, but still, all he can manage to do is stand in front of you, still not reaching out. He looks at the way Seungcheol has you locked in his arms, holding you still against his chest as if to tame a beast from him. 

“You’re so pretty, Mingyu, really.” You say, blinking up at him and tapping Seungcheol to loosen his grip on you. “You can touch me too, you know.”

He’s still reluctant, looking to Seungcheol once again for confirmation and receiving a nod. His hands reach out, touching nothing more than your bare shoulder before sliding down your waist and stepping even closer. 

You can feel the warmth radiating off of them as they sandwich you there between them. Seungcheol and his confident breaths behind you easily contrast to Mingyu’s deeper, nervous breathing. You kind of get now why your husband told you to just watch for a little bit longer. Mingyu is so readable, with the way his eyes can’t find where to land, the way his hands know where they want to go but he clearly holds back from doing too much too soon out of fear that this entire agreement will shatter before his very eyes. 

You hum out happily, leaning your head back against Seungcheol and pressing your hips forward, against Mingyu. Feeling entirely loved, wanted, needed. 

“I missed this feeling,” You sigh out with a pleasured smile, throwing an arm out and over Mingyu’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. “I bet you’ll miss it too. I bet you’ll keep coming back for it.”

Seungcheol hums as well, nodding his head in agreement before blinking over at Mingyu and lifting a brow. He wonders how long they’re going to stand here staring at each other so, rolling his eyes dismissively, he presses on.

“I want to watch you eat her out.” He says, feeling that it’s not too out of the ordinary to make suggestions since Mingyu appears to be totally blinded by your tits right now anyway.

Mingyu nods with empty eyes, shortly before you see him physically break out of his presumed trance and take a step back, very nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Wait, really?” He asks, somehow still unsure that this is a thing that’s actually happening as he regains balance.

“Oh, absolutely.” Seungcheol encourages him, using the emptied up space in front of you to maneuver you over to the bed. 

Mingyu watches as your husband sits you down on the bed, grabs two pillows and places them behind you, then shimmies your pants off of you in a very loving way. He doesn’t know whether to be jealous of Seungcheol for being able to love someone enough to pleasure them using others or to be jealous of you for being loved so blatantly. 

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, tapping your legs to spread them out and taking a step back to make room. “Go on.”

Mingyu’s legs take him there before his brain can think twice. One second he’s looking at you from the angle of the center of the room, the next he’s falling to his knees, staring straight between your legs at the point of his lust for the last however long. Slender fingers gripping your thighs much the same way Seungcheol did the first night he saw the two of you together like this. 

It continues to hit him like a freight train. He’s here. He’s doing this. Not even a year ago he was sleeping in a different place, with a fiancée, making calls to find venues for a fucking wedding, and now he’s here. Between the legs of another man’s wife at his request. 

Why is he so pleased with the drastic change of events? Why is his mouth watering looking at the small damp spot seeping through your panties? Why does he feel like he isn’t even himself at this moment? 

None of it matters, not when you reach out and run your fingers through his hair to urge him forward. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose because it’s been a long time since he felt the loving touch of another person in his hair like this. 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt the warmth of a woman in front of him, and even longer since he last felt this drunk on the atmosphere around him. Your soft fingers scratch against his scalp, and that alone makes his entire body shiver as he nuzzles against your thigh lovingly, leaving his kiss against your skin for the first time. 

Seungcheol watches, not entirely used to a man acting like this with his wife. Usually, they’re already trying to get their cock inside of her, but Mingyu seems to be basking in the touch and feel of it all through each step and in a way, he understands. He was with someone for six years and planned to spend his life with her, he can imagine this is something Mingyu missed doing, despite the bitch not even wanting to gag on him. 

He feels fond watching the two of you, situating himself on the bed and letting you lean up against him. There, he starts to work your bra off of you, matching Mingyu’s slowly paced arousal. 

You, on the other hand, feel like your body is catching fire. That little gentle kiss against your thigh was followed by several more, peppered up to your panty line, down to your knees, and then right back up before he even thinks about leaving a kiss against the seat of your panties. 

Which, he does eventually get to doing. Seungcheol watches your body jolt at the touch. He can tell you’ve been anticipating it since Mingyu got on his knees but knows you’re both pacing yourselves for the sake of him being able to enjoy himself. 

Seungcheol’s hands do remain on your tits through it, massaging and pinching against your nipples until they’re erect and sending jolts of sensations straight to your core. Thankfully, Mingyu appears to be preparing himself to see your arousal up close and personal by this point, keeping his lips right up against it as his fingers toy with the hem of your panties. 

He looks up at you, still searching for confirmation on instinct and can’t help but feel that the green light was given the second he moved into the house next door with the way you both look at him. 

You’re not the only one being loved on right now. He feels entirely taken care of simply for being able to go down on you, and he wants nothing more in this world than to make you feel good. 

So, he does his best. Reaching his arms forward and gripping the sides of your panties before gently pulling them down. He watches as your, by now very wet, panties unstick from your folds as he reveals it to himself and honestly, he doesn’t even care at this point at how he blatantly moans over it. 

And just as you thought he was going to take his time like before, it’s like your entire world is flipped upside down. You take in a sharp and surprised inhale at the way he’s got his tongue on you the second your panties hit the floor. 

Seungcheol laughs at your surprise, internally praising Mingyu for that sudden jolt of confidence he must have gotten to do that after unintentionally teasing you for far too long. He can feel your nipples react to what he’s doing, and through the sound of Mingyu’s tongue, his groans through the taste of you, even he feels like he’s going insane just sitting with you against him like this. 

“Fuck,” You moan out, feeling the way his tongue leaves no part of your pussy unexplored. “Fuck.” You continue, totally speechless and unable to praise him the way you’d very much like to right now. 

  When you run your fingers through his hair again, feeling the way he moves his head beneath them he stiffens his tongue as he slides it up your entire pussy, then lands on your clit and begins to flick his tongue at such a pace that your legs nearly close in on him.

Seungcheol is there though, quickly reaching down to hold your legs open for him. 

“Sensitive?” He gleefully whispers to you, watching the way you grip Mingyu’s hair in your fingers through the obvious struggle. He knows you won’t answer, which is fine, because he loves when you get like this. Though it’s never through a man simply giving you some good head. 

Mingyu continues his assault with his tongue, so drunk on the taste of you that all he can do is keep going. Keep tasting, flicking your clit until it’s swollen before sliding back down again and burying his tongue inside of you as deep as it’ll go. Like he can’t get enough, especially with the way your hips wiggle to get away, with the way your fingers try to weakly tug his head away from you.

He hopes this is exactly what Seungcheol wanted to see, because he couldn’t be happier to fulfill the request. Moaning into you only to breathe nothing but you back in. His cock still neglected from a full day of arousal, tasting you alone is soaking his pants. Never has he felt so desperate for something. Never.

Even when he can feel the bed shift and your legs close around his head again, he continues. 

“Hold her legs open for me,” Seungcheol instructs as he pulls himself off of the bed, now seemingly so aroused that he feels the need to involve himself. He shimmies off his clothing and props himself back up on the bed, directly next to you and easily holding his length to bump against your slacked and moaning mouth. 

You readily accept your husband’s length into your mouth. Instantly taking him as deeply as you can out of sheer arousal. Wanting to do the dirtiest things your brain can come up with solely because of how good everything feels right now. Seungcheol loves it, especially with how greedy you seem as you furrow your brows and will yourself to take more into your mouth. 

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, reaching over to tap his hand that’s putting his obvious strength to use against your thighs to get his attention. “Look.”

Mingyu does, after sliding his tongue back up and flicking your clit several more times to get those satisfying shakes of your body in reaction. His eyes trail up as he finally takes a breath of fresh air, only now realizing that you’re both entirely naked. 

“If you keep coming back,” Seungcheol starts, moving his hand to caress your cheek before holding the back of your head in place. “this” he punctuated with a hard thrust into your mouth, gagging you. “is what you have to look forward to.”

Mingyu watches as Seungcheol holds your head there, continuously gagging, and then he glances down to your pussy and goddamn. You’re clenching around nothing each time you gag, and the moans you’re letting out along with your gags sends him over edge. His tongue is immediately back on you, satiating that clench with his tongue as best he can. 

The sound of Seungcheol’s ever expected fond reactions goes unnoticed by Mingyu as he puts his entire fucking soul into eating you out. 

Thankfully, you’re able to breathe shortly after, kind of. Save for the fact that when Mingyu’s isn’t knocking the breath out of you, Seungcheol is stealing it by blocking your airways with his length and moaning all the same.

The entire room sounds so erotic, and everything still feels like it’s on fire. Your sensitivity subsides as your focus falls to pleasing your husband, leading your hips to chase Mingyu’s hungry tongue anywhere it goes. 

It stays like this for a few minutes, all three of you seemingly lost in each other before you feel your husband lean over, allowing you to take care of his length without his help and sliding them straight to where Mingyu’s tongue is.

There, he easily slides in two fingers, and still, Mingyu doesn’t stop. It doesn’t phase him one bit. His tongue continues, working around Seungcheol’s fingers and sometimes even licking around them to taste the arousal that seeps from deep inside of you. By now though, he’s humping up, wanting more, more, more. Your hips chase his tongue and your husband’s fingers the same way his hips chase nothing.

Seungcheol only likes him more by this point. Even the times they have been with curious men, typically they’re not licking your pussy and his fingers. Mingyu is so peculiar about this, and arguably his lack of experience is what’s making this feel so fucking magical. His attention doesn’t appear to be divided between the both of you, nor does it even appear to be solely on you like he thinks it is. 

He’s treating you both as if you’re one person, one soul, and appears to accept anything either of you offer as long as you feel good and Seungcheol is satisfied with how things are going. 

Never has their bedroom been this silent of words either, especially when someone else is involved. There’s always crude words, but at this point all three of you seem to understand that you’re experiencing rather than trying to put on a show. You’re not competing, you’re not rushing for the finish line, you’re just, fucking, existing within pleasure.

“He’s a natural.” Seungcheol compliments, sliding his fingers up and out of you, feeling Mingyu’s tongue graze against the entire length of one of them and moaning loudly at the warmth and taste. “Wonder what else he can do?” 

You smile when you pull off of Seungcheol’s, now leaking, cock and look down at Mingyu. He’s already looking up at you, lips glistening much like his eyes are as he plants more kisses up your body. Solely because Seungcheol practically hides your entire pussy from him as a hint to move his hungry assault elsewhere. 

He does, happily. He’s satisfied even as he kisses up your belly and feels like he doesn’t need to ask to plant those same glistening lips against one of your nipples and fondle it with his tongue just as beautifully as he did with your clit.

He leaves space for Seungcheol’s hand when he moves up, trying to be careful to avoid his hard on brushing against anywhere where it’s not wanted, which doesn’t seem to be much of an issue because Seungcheol pulls his hand back shortly anyway, pulling off of the bed and studying the two of you. 

You hug Mingyu’s head while he worships the chest he’s stared at from his window day after day. Seungcheol can clearly see how shy Mingyu is, but he still seems to be doing everything in a way that makes you both love it. At this point, it wouldn’t even matter what he does, he knows you’d go insane over it, and that’s enough for him to allow it. 

He can’t help himself when he leans over you to kiss you, seemingly so in love with you, careful not to accidentally bump Mingyu’s head from your tit and probably cause some sort of huff or pout out of him. 

“Lay him back.” Seungcheol says to you through his kiss, pinching your chin to keep your lips on his for a few moments longer before letting you go. 

The way your eyes shine, and the way Mingyu’s tongue seems to never tire, you’re almost sad to pull him off of you. But you do, nonetheless, guiding him to stand to his feet and finally running your hands up his torso to urge his shirt off of him. 

You stare at his abdomen, touching and feeling each dip of it. His arms are just as big and toned, and god damn is his cock huge. You could tell from the window, and you can tell here, even while it’s clothed. 

“Off.” You say, tugging him forward by his jeans and sitting yourself up.

He laughs at the movement, looking between the two of you and honestly, damn. You’re both so fucking beautiful right now. He’d be delighted to take these pants off, and he does.

Shortly after, you instruct him to lay back on the bed and he’s only getting more and more comfortable with the situation. Doing exactly as instructed, not even embarrassed by his angry and heavy cock twitching in near pain to be touched. 

“God, look at him.” You comment, now moving yourself on the bed to lean on one elbow and trail your fingers up his abs. 

His entire body twitches at the touch, and he winces just a little bit with a sexually frustrated huff. 

“Should I fuck him?” You ask, looking up at Seungcheol, who was actively already fisting his length shamelessly at all of the ideas he has in his head that you could to do Mingyu, or of what Mingyu could do to you. 

“Do you want that?” Seungcheol asks, looking over to Mingyu and watching the way he straight up nods shamelessly and practically grabs you by the arm to pull you on top of him.

“So eager,” You laugh, throwing your leg over him and instantly seating yourself directly on his cock. Feeling how huge it is, how hard it is. 

Mingyu moans at that alone, hands shooting to your waist and squeezing so hard that you know it’ll leave a painful sensation later. 

“Go on then, fuck him.” Seungcheol says, amused with how badly this man wants it. 

And you do, without much more of a warning. You lift yourself and expertly slide straight down on his pathetic cock. You watch Mingyu as you do it, struggling to breathe through the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his length and attempting to adjust to his size.

Mingyu runs his own fingers through his hair now, trying to keep himself grounded by the feeling he’s missed out on for so fucking long. He lets out a long and drawn out moan, cursing at the feeling and nearly tearing up at how fucking tight you are. 

“Shit-” Mingyu breathes out, holding your waist still as if to keep you from moving, then he’s wrapping you in a hug and pulling you straight down against his chest. 

Seungcheol skews his head, taking a step closer to see how well his friend fits inside of you and damn. Your pussy is clenching every passing second trying to adjust, and Mingyu's entire body is reacting to it. Naturally, Seungcheol has no choice but to grip his cock harder at the scene, biting back his own desperate moan so that he can still appear to be collected about this. 

As you lay in Mingyu’s arms though, with the harsh hold of his arms keeping you in place, you can’t help but groan at the searing stretch inside of you. And he, on the other hand, is being driven crazy by the smell of your hair. Honestly, the scent alone is driving him wild enough that it’s a struggle to keep his own hips from writhing with the need to stretch your pussy out more.

“Keep him still while you make room for me.” Seungcheol finally chokes out. “Don’t let him come yet.”

You breathlessly nod, trying to press yourself up from Mingyu’s heaving chest just to grip onto his shoulders and bounce against his desperate attempts to stop you. He gives in after the second bounce though, going from trying to hold you down on him to loosening up and almost helping you bounce.

“That’s it, that’s exactly what she wants–” Seungcheol compliments, running his fingers up your back and making you shiver. “Right, babe?” 

You try to answer, but you moan out instead with the way Mingyu’s hands keep you bouncing at such a pace that your g-spot is being repeatedly fucked against. And when he moves his hands to your ass, he loses himself to the pleasure as his eyes darken even more, fucking up now, deeper into you when you slide down on him. 

“So deep,” You nearly sob out, hands reaching out for Seungcheol somewhere behind you, and he’s quick to be there for you. 

“Feels good?” He asks, leaning onto the bed to kiss against your face. “You moan so good for him, I know it does.”

Mingyu moans before you can, sinking his head further into the pillows and letting himself get lost in the feeling of you bouncing on him. Seungcheol was right about this before, you do get wet. Fucking soaked. 

“Ready for more?” Seungcheol asks now, seemingly ready to give you more than either of you know you can handle.

Still, you nod, knowing exactly what he’s wanting to do. You adjust the way you bounce, now leaning back onto Mingyu’s chest so that Mingyu’s cock slamming into you is on full display for Seungcheol. 

“Slow down for a second, Gyu,” Seungcheol says, liking the nickname well enough to use it himself. “Let me show you what sharing feels like.”

And holy fuck, Mingyu is not prepared for it. He’s shocked that you’re wanting it, with the way you pant out breathless, pained moans against his collar bone as Seungcheol makes attempts to stretch you out more than you already are. 

Mingyu holds onto those little pants, feeling your hands grip against his body as your husband nudges the head of his cock inside, causing both of you to cry out with a desperate sound. 

Inch by inch, Seungcheol works himself in, holding his breath and soothing your back throughout the process, up until he’s managed to fit about as much as he can into you and thrusting forward just once to test the waters. 

“Goddamn, such a tight fit.” He half-moans through a laugh, pulling out and thrusting in again, harder. 

The reaction is more than Seungcheol could ever have wanted. Both of you, clinging to each other through the overwhelming sensation. Mingyu, probably overly sensitive from the feeling of your pussy gripping him and Seungcheol’s cock massaging the underside of it as he chases his own pleasure. Then there’s you, constantly clenching to adjust, letting out little pleased cries that only get prettier and prettier, especially when they’re mixed in with Mingyus. 

At this point, Seungcheol can barely tell which one of you is moaning, but it’s all the same to him and he begins to do the work for all three of you. Loving the way he’s managed to make his wife and another man fall apart beneath him. 

“God, you both love it.” He says, knowing for a fact that you’re both too gone by now to hear him. Which is good, because he can’t hold his own moans in anymore. 

So, he doesn’t. He grips your hips to hold you in place and continues to thrust, feeling your pussy relax with each thrust until even Mingyu is able to fuck up slightly. And for you, feeling both cocks sliding into you opposite of each other, you really can’t comprehend a single thing outside of pleasure right now. 

You can hardly breathe, so talking isn’t entirely on your agenda, still though. You try. 

“Fuck, fuck–” You breathe out, gripping even tighter onto Mingyu now.

“So fucking wet,” Seungcheol soothes, offering a harsher thrust now that he’s beginning to lose himself to the feeling too.

“So fucking, big–” You say, mostly into Mingyu’s ear despite your husband having a good size as well. “Fuck me open, pretty boy, show my husband how you like to come.”

Seungcheol smirks at your hushed and out-of-breath words, you always get dirty when you’re super turned on. Plus, the way Mingyu follows instructions is insanely sexy too.

In fact, he follows your instructions a little too well. Somehow, Mingyu overpowers both your weight on him and Seungcheol’s harsh thrusts. To the point that he actually has to stop moving his own hips because if he doesn’t, Mingyu will get all three of you off within seconds if he keeps going at this pace.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” Seungcheol moans in probably the most erotic voice you’ve ever heard come from him before. Because, never in your life alongside him have you heard him have to cut off his comments with a moan. “he likes it fucking rough.”

And he’s not lying. Part of you wonders if Mingyu has ever been able to fuck this way, because even as you and your husband manage to find room to converse through this, Mingyu is still gone and lost in his own world. Still holding onto you, and still fucking into you so hard that you’re very nearly releasing little yelps each time he bottoms out. 

Seungcheol, on the other hand, knows exactly how your body reacts when you’re getting close. Usually knowing before you do, and he really does his best to keep his composure through this. He does his damndest to hold off, amazed that Mingyu lasted past the first instance of you sinking down on him. 

Shaking hands reach between you and Mingyu, and you’re quick to sit up and lean back against Seungcheol instead to let him have access to your clit. Despite his cock slipping out of you slightly, he can still manage to fuck a few inches in at this angle, and honestly it’s a welcome relief because if he continued any further, he worries your clit would be left long neglected by his brain malfunctioning in a sudden orgasm.

You smile in a daze as you stare down at Mingyu, his eyes droopy and hooded when he opens them, but for the most part remaining closed and focused on fucking you as good as he can. And paired with the sensation of Seungcheol rubbing your clit, you’re rendered useless in announcing that you’re close. 

Thankfully, your lovely, amazing, and doting husband knows you as well as you know yourself. 

“Keep going,” He says, out of breath and reaching his other hand up to hold one of your tits in his hand, lips going to your neck. “She’s close.”

Mingyu lets out a choked moan at the same time you let one out, and instantly Seungcheol pulls out with a pleased and frustrated moan. 

“Let him feel it, babe,” Seungcheol says, now focusing solely on rubbing your clit with one hand and fucking his fist with the other. ”Squeeze him.”

God, you do, coming undone wrapped around his Mingyu’s relentless cock, pulsing and shaking as Seungcheol makes no attempt to ease the orgasm out of you. His fingers only circle your clit harder, and Mingyu only fucks up harder. 

“Fuck, Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, watching the man in awe. “How are you holding out right now?”

Mingyu blinks up, his eyes totally lost to arousal and he continues to fuck into you far past your orgasm ending, loving the slide of how much wetter you got through it. He feels like he’s fucking half a year’s worth of himself into you, which is fair. Because he definitely is. 

“Look at him babe, tell him it’s okay.” Seungcheol continues, wanting Mingyu to get off so that he can stop holding off on his own. It’s entirely insane how much self-control this man has.

Not even Seungcheol himself could withstand this without losing a bit of self control, and yet, god. He really is the perfect third. The perfect neighbor. 

This is an indication that Seungcheol is about to go full cuckold and work at himself as you take what you want from Mingyu, and you really do try. 

Your legs shake around him as you continue to try and ride him, leaning down to hover over his lips in a faux first kiss to tell him to rest his hips, and he does, sighing out a little sound of relief as you take back the control.

He’s never been so fucking turned on in his life, and in all honestly, not even he knows how he hasn’t gotten off yet. He’s needed it all day. He’s needed it all his fucking life, it seems. 

Seungcheol studies the way your tired legs work, the pace slowing down minute by minute before he steps in. His control now fully regained as his orgasm fades and he can continue to instruct and enjoy without a wall of pure sex invading his actions. He releases his cock now, stilling your hips and pulling you off of Mingyu.

The sound alone is somehow filthier than any porn he’s ever heard. Sloppy and wet, paired with Mingyu’s frustrated groan at the loss of warmth. 

“Gyu, take the lead.” Seungcheol says, helping you to lay back and rubbing your thighs to soothe them. 

Mingyu, of course, jumps into action immediately. Lifting from his spot and situating himself between your legs with ease. Now being able to see you under him, rather than hovering above him, he feels like he has all the power in the world to treat you right. 

“Anything you want,” He says, already adjusting himself with your pussy and pressing in. “Anything, just tell me.”

You’re entirely endeared by his words and can’t help it when you pull him down in a huff and connect your lips to his for the first time. He melts into it, fucking his hips into you at a slower pace now, deeper, more lazily. 

He’s smelling you and feeling you entirely, every sensation in the world he could ever want is being satiated right now, and he’s not ashamed to whine through it. Pumping himself into you until it hits him. 

So hard does it hit him, each thrust milking him entirely of his cum and not trembling once through it. His cock has been sensitive all day, this new sensitivity is welcome to him as long as you continue to lick into his mouth and scratch against his back like this. 

It’s a given that he was a goner the second he got on top, and when he finally empties the last, impossible amount of cum into you, his ears pop and begin to ring. 

“You guys look so cute–” Seungcheol coos, helping Mingyu out of you on wobbly legs before he leans down to scoop some of the mess out of you. “Now, you lay back too,” he adds, still toying with the cum dripping from you. 

He does, relieved and thankful for the rest after that exhausting experience. He’s out of breath when he flops himself down next to you, turning his head slightly to look at you and how content you seem to be. It makes him feel content too, even without your lips against his. 

There, Seungcheol scoops some of that cum out of you and slathers his fingers with it, shuffling forward onto the bed to place himself between your legs now. Then, his fingers make their way over to Mingyu. 

“Taste it.” He says, wondering if Mingyu will fight the idea of doing it. 

Shockingly, he doesn’t. He opens his mouth with ease and sucks Seungcheol’s fingers into his mouth. You watch, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the taste of himself mixed with you. You groan out, throat dry from the embarrassing amount of moaning before wiggling your hips. 

“Patience, babe,” Seungcheol says, not even glancing at you and keeping his eyes trained on the way Mingyu eagerly licks his fingers clean before releasing his fingers and blinking over to you, and then up at him.

“You’re both going to fucking kill me.” Seungcheol lets out, rolling his eyes before training them on you. “Gonna stuff this mess back into you, yeah?”

You nod obediently.

You’re so content, readily accepting your husband in his rightful place and basking in the familiar feeling of his length pressing inside of you. It’s a feeling you know, and a feeling you love despite having already been fucked open by both of them already. 

At this point, it’s not even just arousal in the air. But like, a weird secret second thing that somehow feels more content than content. 

Seungcheol is in love with the way you look right now though, arguably so for Mingyu too. With his fucked out face looking just as drowsy as yours does despite the sun setting when all of this started. It’s not as late into the night as it seems to feel, which is fine because time seems like it works differently at this moment. 

“Kiss her,” Seungcheol says, with a last gift to Mingyu for fucking you so well. “Thank her.”

He does, because of course he does. He dips in so fast, cradling your face in the same delicate way he touched your thighs from before. Kissing you just as gently, all while Seungcheol takes his time to slide into you with such a fulfilling pace that, honestly, if you will it hard enough, you could probably get off another three times if you wanted to.

But you don’t, putting that filthy side of you to rest as you allow your husband to take what he needs. His pace quickening much like Mingyu’s kisses do, up until you’re bouncing up with each thrust of his hips, and Mingyu is left chasing your lips. Up, down, up, down. 

He chuckles into it, his teeth catching your bottom lip a few times before chasing your lips harder, all for Seungcheol to admire from above. 

And admire it, he does. Loving the way you kiss Mingyu in a playful way compared to himself. There’s passion here, and it makes it all the more easy for him to work himself up to his own orgasm. 

You’re not shocked at Seungcheol’s silence through his own high. Pressing his hips so tightly against yours, trying to bury himself as deeply as he can go to release all of this tension inside of his body. You still feel as full as you did when they both were inside of you, but this is something entirely different. It’s Seungcheol, and it still shows that he’s the one person on this Earth who knows you better than you know yourself.

He knows you love to feel his cock pulse inside of you, know your love when it dribbles down your thighs as you wobble to the bathroom, and now apparently, he knows you seem to love kissing Mingyu through the entire experience. Clenching against his orgasm as if you were already willing to start over from the beginning. 

And just like that, he pulls out and lays on the other side of you, stealing your lips from Mingyu briefly and kissing you. Both out of appreciation and love.

~

The clean up was devastating. Poor fucking Mingyu, never realizing that aftercare is like, a huge important factor to fucking that hard. Which only solidifies it to both you and your husband that he’s clearly never been given the sexual freedom he so needed.

The two of you exchange side eyes at the way Mingyu expects to shower alone and take care of himself, despite walking straight into a wall on wobbly legs with sleepy, mostly closed eyes. 

You help him to the shower, Seungcheol allowing you to join him and clean him up as he sits just outside and waits to ultimately clean himself up this time. After all, Mingyu was the one who fucked you senseless this time, the least he can do is learn how to clean up the mess and soothe your muscles. 

Fortunately, he seems to be pleased to learn and eager to put his new knowledge to use. Standing there under the warm water with a blissed out little smile, hands gently caressing your core as if to soothe your sensitivity. Obviously, it doesn’t work that way but, you still give him credit for it.

By the time you’re done showering, Mingyu is practically dead weight. Literally fucked himself to sleep, it seems, as Seungcheol laughs out and nods to the guest room, which he already made up for him. 

You help him to the room while Seungcheol helps himself to shower, where puddles of water remain on the floor. 

Apparently you and Mingyu both share the trait of not using a towel to step on after a shower. Which is only more of a reason to like him. 

Seungcheol likes taking care of people. 

~

When Mingyu wakes up the next morning, sunlight blaring through closed blinds, his half asleep brain realizes very quickly what happened. 

He’s embarrassed again, but the content feeling in his chest replaced the heavy one he had been holding about the entire situation. He had fun. He liked it. No, he loved it. So much so that for the first time in his life, he’s needed to pass the fuck out immediately after. 

And it’s not long after he wakes up, lying there in thought, that he hears a soft knock at the door.

You’re poking your head in, blinking over at him and admiring his sleep hair. Which isn’t too different compared to his sex hair, and you smile.

“Good morning,” You say, stepping into the room and revealing Seungcheol close behind you. “Wanna go again?”

Mingyu dead pans at both of you. You’re both fucking insane.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #seungcheol smut #kim mingyu smut #s.coups smut

[ravenelyx]

I need you. - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader

Words: 1.1k

Chapter Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, angst and comfort, Sebastian needs to be snuggled, Sebastian is also sad, and Sebastian needs love, neck kissing, cuddling and snuggling, Soft!Sebastian Supremacy, House or gender is not specified, (implied) established relationship, use of 2nd person for the reader

Summary: Sebastian has different ways of dealing with being hurt. One of them is burying his face in your chest while you cuddle him

A/N: IT'S SALLOW SUNDAY and since people seem to like my soft!seb heacanons, I wrote a whole fic instead <3 I woke up feeling snuggly, sooo...

Masterlist

you can find the whole fic on ao3 as well <3

Ominis' version

You didn't even hear his steps, yet when you saw a grimace creep up on Leander's face as he spoke to you, and strong arms wrap around your torso, you knew.

Sebastian left a soft kiss on the top of your head, looking at Leander with a small frown. You thought it must be one of those things only boys understood, because Leander sighed and nodded, without saying a word. Sebastian relaxed against you.

Pair of eyes looked between the two boys, as if expecting a fight to come out of it, but Leander just smiled in acknowledgement. "Sallow." Then his eyes met yours. "I'll see you in class. Don't forget your Leechjuice again."

You rolled your eyes. "It was one time."

Many people mistook it for possessiveness. You knew the real reason for it.

Leander walked away, waving you a goodbye, and Sebastian leaned his head against yours.

"Hi," you whispered with a small smile. He nuzzled your cheek, leaning his weight on your back.

While you never reproached him for showing his touchy side in public, you were starting to feel a little self-conscious of all the curious eyes piercing the two of you, so you turned around in his arms — albeit with great difficulty as his iron grip on you seemed unmovable — and cupped his cheeks.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You swore you saw a few tears collect in his eyes as you spoke, so you walked him backwards to a more secluded bench. He sat down and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

After two years of dating, Sebastian had no more qualms about showing you his need for affection. You were there through it all: when Anne was cursed, when Sebastian desperately tried to find a cure, and even now, when he was diving into a dangerous path with his new friend. He had begun to rely on you, and on something only you could give him.

Security.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, affectionately scratching his scalp, and he let out a soft whine – a whine of pleasure, and a whine of something else. Something sad and guilty and that made him tighten his grip against you and bury his face in your chest.

"He has sent another letter!" he began, running his hands along your back and hips. You learned it was a way for him to reassure himself and calm down. "He told me the if I don't stop, he'll never let me see Anne again!"

Your face softened, hand now cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Usually, when Sebastian had a fight with Solomon, he'd retreat in the Undercroft, angry and incensed and ready to burn his own rage to the sound of very loud Confringo's. But there were times when his uncle's words got to him, made his heart sink with the need of a love that was stripped from him. A love he tried to silence by hugging his pillow tight at night when he was young. A love he found in you.

"He won't actually do it. Anne will always be your sister," you reassured him softly. "She'll want to see you, and he can't stop her from that."

He breathed heavily in your chest, pressed his palm under your thighs to pull you further in.

"She doesn't agree with what I'm doing…" He muffled his broken voice in your shirt.

"I know…"

"And she might stop loving me…" he said tearfully.

"She won't." You said earnestly. "She's your twin. In her heart, she knows she'd do the same for you."

He trembled a little, emotions threatening to explode.

"You don't trust Solomon," you began, stroking his hair, "but you can trust me. And you can trust Anne."

He stopped quivering, and you could almost feel the gears turn in his brain at your words. He began to kiss you through your shirt in gratitude.

You thought the position must have been uncomfortable to him, even if he didn't show it, so you slightly pushed his torso back, his face leaving your chest with a displeased frown, and leaned him on the seatback a little, then nestled in his arms, face nuzzling his neck. He sighed in relief as you cuddled against him.

"I know I'm too much sometimes…" he said in a small voice, hiding his face in your hair.

"You're not," you answered immediately. You could see his insecurities start to creep up on him, and you wouldn't have that.

"I annoy you."

"You don't," you protested, looking up at him in concern.

"I always come to you—"

"I'm glad you do."

"—and I'm always too needy."

"I don't see a problem with that."

You sighed and cupped his cheek again, drawing him down to press your mouth to his. It took a small touch for him to ignite, leaning his whole torso over you to deepen the kiss, desperately tugging at your lips. He pulled back with a grimace again when he noticed, and turned away, almost guilty.

"Don't refuse my affection," you whispered.

"I will consume you."

"I'm yours anyway."

He looked back at you, eyes fleeting over the gentle smile on your lips.

"Now come and kiss me a little more."

The battle in his mind seemed to settle immediately, and he lunged forward, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you in place as his lips feasted on yours. His other arm circled your waist, holding you impossibly tight against him. And he was everywhere — his body caging yours, lips hungrily pulling and biting and bruising, hands desperately kneading your flesh, prising your shirt open to touch your bare skin. You felt dizzy at the force of his affection, and you knew he was right. He would consume you, like a wildfire, an eruption, a cataclysm about to blow your heart in a pulp of blood and passion as his tongue claimed yours. And you'd stop feeling like a person at his touch, so overcome by him you'd lose yourself. And then he'd settle it all right, kissing the blood off your lips with reverence, caressing your bruises gently, putting order into your feelings and reminding you once again that you would do anything for him.

"I need you," he breathed out, dipping his head in the crook of your neck. "Every day…"

You didn't stop him when he sucked a love bite into your skin.

"It's a good thing I feel the same," you chuckled.

"Even if you don't need me as much as I need you—"

"I need you more than you can imagine."

He looked up at you, and you kissed his lips again. This time he was gentle as well.

"Don't stop coming to me. Ever."

He nodded and kissed you again. And again. And again. And again, until Professor Weasley reproached the both of you for inappropriate behaviour and sent you to detention for a week.

And he'd kiss you there, too.

#sallow sunday #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfiction #harry potter #wizarding world #harry potter fandom #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x yn #sebastian sallow x oc #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy hc #hogwarts legacy headcanons #sebastian sallow hc #sebastian sallow headcanon #my writing #fanfic writing #ao3 writer #fic writing #writing #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts au #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[absurdthirst]

Dieter's Daughter {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Dad!Dieter, mentions of drug use, unplanned pregnancies, freaking out, mentions of foster care, anxiety, lactation kink, babies, domestic bliss, falling in love, sudden marriage proposals, Dieter being a sap, adult breast feeding, oral sex (female receiving), face riding, vaginal sex, pregnancy

Comments: When a baby is dropped off on Dieter's doorstep, he is completely out of his element and doesn't know what to do. Attending a single mother support group meeting, he finds you. Begging you to become a nanny to his daughter.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It takes several minutes for the sounds of the doorbell peeling insistently to break through Dieter’s nearly catatonic state. Too much booze and too many pills are the result of another day of discontent and wishing that there was something other than numbness of life for him. Leaving him grumbling when one eye pops open and he groans when the cotton mouth and headache hits him. “Go away.” He huffs, knowing that there is no way that whoever is at the damn door would hear him all the way in his bedroom. Hell, the only reason he hears the doorbell is because it’s wired to the sound system in the house. Again the bell rings and like the dead rising from the grave, Dieter drags himself out of the safety and comfort of his bed. “Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” The bathrobe he had tossed down last night is put over his boxers and he shuffles towards the stairs as fast as his lethargic body can go.

When Dieter opens the door, he’s shocked to see a woman standing there holding a baby. “Can I help you?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, and she snorts.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She asks and Dieter squints, “am I supposed to?” 

She laughs humorlessly, “I shouldn’t be surprised, you could barely remember my name that night. I was just amazed that a big actor wanted to fuck me. Remember me? That cocktail waitress from the club you took home about ten months ago?” She says and Dieter scratches his neck. 

“Listen lady, I sleep with a lot of people. It’s hard to remember them all.” He admits with zero qualms. 

“Wow. You’re a fucking asshole. Anyway, I guess the condom broke because congrats, you’re a daddy. It’s a girl. Her name is Rosie. Her birth certificate is in the bag.” She holds the baby out towards him and his eyes widen, looking down at the baby bag in the ground.

”What? I- what the fuck?” He looks bewildered before he starts to laugh. “Good one. Real funny. What do you want? Money?” He scoffs and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. 

“No. No. I need you to take her. I can’t afford her and I- I didn’t want her. When I found out - I was fucking eight months pregnant so it was too late to get rid of her and I can’t work so I can’t pay for my place. I can’t keep her. You gotta take her. She will be better off with you.” She says and pushes the baby into Dieter’s arms. 

He scrambles to hold the baby, not wanting to drop her and the woman immediately sprints off towards her car. “Hey! Wait! You can’t just- I don’t know how to look after a baby! I need you to - hey. Where the fuck- get back here!” He yells as she squeals off of his driveway and he curses himself for not fixing the gate yet. “Shit.” He hisses. He didn’t even get her name. Looking down at the baby, he sighs and knows he has to find her mom. He can’t be a daddy. He can barely look after himself. 

No, first thing is a damn DNA test and then he’s gonna find that bitch and give her back her baby. He’s gotta call the police after he cleans up his counters from the coke powder. “Fuckkkkk.” He groans, knowing his quiet day just got a whole lot busier.

****

“If we take her, Mr. Bravo, she’s just going to go into a state home. An orphanage.” Dieter frowns and wraps his arms around his chest, nervous for having the fucking cops in his house. Paranoid they were going to find the baggie of Coke he just remembered was in the little box next to his car keys. “You are listed on the birth certificate.” 

Snatching the paper from the officer he squints at it. “How the fuck is that legal?” He demands. “That means anyone could put me down as the father of their kid.” 

The officer shuffles, clearly uncomfortable and slightly in awe of being in the actor’s presence. “That’s for the courts to decide. Look,” he lowers his voice and looks around. “I don’t think you understand how bad the system is for babies.” He tells Dieter seriously. “Just- keep the baby with you, at least until the DNA tests come back. That way you don’t have to fight to get her back when she is yours. You already said you might have slept with this woman. Stranger things have happened.” 

Dieter huffs, upset by the idea of the tiny little human being in an orphanage. Even if she doesn’t look anything like him. He had found diapers and a can of formula in the bag that the mother had left with him but that’s it. He has nothing to take care of a child. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know shit about kids.” He demands, making the officer chuckle. 

“Hire a nanny.” The officer suggests, smirking. “Isn’t that what you Hollywood types do?”

Dieter knows he can’t just ship the kid off. She’s so tiny and vulnerable. He can’t do it, even he’s not that big of an asshole. He will call his assistant to get a nanny in today. “Listen, do you, uh, know how much formula to use?” He asks the cop who nods and walks over to the counter to show Dieter. 

“One scoop for every two ounces of water. Get baby water but bottled will have to work for today. So four ounces, two scoops. And shake. After she is finished, shift her to your shoulder and gently pat her back to get her to burp.” He says and Dieter nods. 

“How much does she need?” Dieter asks and the cop chuckles, “she’s gonna be hungry a lot. I remember mine at that age. Endless bottles. Be sure to wash them thoroughly.” He says and pats Dieter on the shoulder and makes his way towards the front door of the Sherman Oaks mansion.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, rubbing his cheek when the police leave and the baby starts to cry. He knows she must be hungry so he fumbles to open the container, grabbing the bottle to fill it with bottled water and putting two scoops in. “I’m coming.” He says, struggling to do the bottle up, and he curses again as he walks over to carefully scoop the baby up. “How do I-?” He struggles to get her to suck on the bottle and sighs in relief when she stops wailing and gulps down the milk.

Dieter holds the baby awkwardly, trying to remember how from that role a few years ago. The baby had been a prop doll, but they had shown him how to hold it. “Your name’s Rosie, huh?” He asks, looking down at the infant. According to the birth certificate, she’s only two months old. “I’m Dieter, but you don’t talk so why am I telling you that?” He huffs, but the baby gurgles around the nipple of the bottle and it makes him grin. “Did you like that?” He asks, lifting a brow. Apparently he���s a natural with kids. 

The baby grunts and the grin immediately slides into a frown. “What’s that?” He asks, feeling something moving. “What are you doing?” Instead of sucking down the milk, the baby is grunting and straining and Dieter stares in horror as the smell starts to reach his nose. “Oh shit! You shit!” He groans in disgust.

The baby starts to cry, unhappy with a full diaper, and Dieter is reaching for his phone. 

“Hello?” His assistant answers and Dieter is panicking. 

“I need you here right now. I need help.” 

Johan, his assistant, frowns, “is that- is that a baby?” He asks and Dieter groans, “get here now. And call a nanny service!” He demands and hangs up. “What do I do?” He asks the baby, shifting to lay her down on a towel so she doesn’t get shit on his expensive rug. “I- shit. You - fuck. That’s disgusting.” He groans and pulls his phone out. “YouTube! I’ll try YouTube.” He looks up ‘how to change a diaper’ and grabs the baby bag.

Dieter watches the video, studying it intently as he keeps a hand on the baby’s stomach. “Looks easy.” He frowns at the squirming baby. “But the doll wasn’t moving.” He sets the phone down beside the bag so he can see it and bites his lip as he tries to figure out the snaps on the onesie she’s in. “Holy shit.” He huffs, amazed at how easy it unsnaps. “I need this in a fucking adult version.” Wrinkling his nose when the smell gets even worse, he groans. “Wheeeeew, God you stink.” He nearly gags and pulls his shirt up over his nose. “What did you eat?”

Trying to plug his nose, he follows the YouTube video, wiping the poop off of her skin after rolling up the dirty diaper and putting it in the diaper bag. Anyone watching would think Dieter is dealing with a bomb. He gags when he pushes the wipes into the bag after cleaning her up and he grabs the rash cream, placing some on her bottom where the video details he should. He curses the new diaper, trying to figure out what way is the front until he sees it says “back” on it and he pulls it tight on her tiny body before he clips her onesies back into place. “Shit. That - that wasn’t too bad.” He murmurs, breathing in the fresh air and she hiccups, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re kind of cute.” Dieter murmurs. “In a weird, ‘you don’t look like me’ kind of way.” He frowns when she grins at him, kicking her feet. “You’re weird.” He huffs, but she just waves her arms at him and squeals. Is she his? After all this time, did he finally fuck up and procreate? His mind spins and he wishes he remembers what the woman looks like better than he does but it had been early (for him) and he had just woken up. “We will have to find you someone who knows what they are doing kiddo.”

**** 

“What did you do?” Johan accuses Dieter who shakes his head, holding the baby in his arms and he looks at her, unable to deny that she looks a little like Dieter. 

“I don’t know man. Some woman, I- Jesus. She said I fucked her and don’t even remember her. I’m waiting for the nurse to come for the DNA test.” Dieter confesses, knowing he has to be sure before he does anything.

“Oh my God, Dieter.” She rolls her eyes and immediately steps closer to the baby, unable to resist seeing her up close. “This is why you said you needed a nanny?” 

Dieter nods and rocks his body as the baby’s eyes start to drift closed. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He huff, looking around the house that is definitely not baby proof. “I don’t have anything. I need-” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck I need. More diapers? That formula?” He nods towards the diaper bag. “She didn’t leave me shit for this baby.” He growls, pissed off at the poor planning of that woman. Who just abandons their baby with someone they didn’t know? 

“Let me make a list and we can get what we need for her.” Johan says, knowing Dieter will not know anything that he will need. 

“I need help. And stuff. Like now.” Dieter says, feeling the need to use but he can’t since he’s responsible for a fucking baby now.

Johan nods and bites his lip. “I’ve got a call into a nanny service. They are going to send someone over today.” He knows Dieter will be relieved. “Maybe she can help us with what we need.”

“Let’s get her. I need help. I- shit. I don’t even have a crib or anything. I need you to go out. Take my card and get all the baby shit from the best store there is in town.” He orders, wanting the baby to have the best even if she isn’t his. She’s cute and she deserves a good start in this world. “I need - shit - I have no idea what I’m doing. Please help me.” Dieter begs, the baby falling asleep against his chest and he looks down at her, her lips pouting as she sucks on the pacifier he found in the bag.

Johan grimaces and nods, aware that he has even less experience with babies than Dieter does. “I’ll be back.” The other man promises, quickly making his way towards the door and out of the house. He had no clue what the hell to do for his boss, he’s gotten himself in a mess this time. As much as he wants to claim he doesn’t know that baby is his, it is. Dieter Bravo is a father.

****

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve always been such a fan of your work.” The woman gushes. Dieter can barely remember her name. Violet, Vivian, or something like that. She seems nice enough and her qualifications from the service are good. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for in a nanny except he desperately needs help. He’s waiting on the DNA results to come in but the little baby is cute and she listens to him rambling without complaints.

Viola looks around the house and wonders how the hell Dieter Bravo became an overnight father. “You must attend parenting classes.” She insists after Dieter finally runs out of steam and shuts up. “There is one I can sign you up for. It’s for new parents and you qualify.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “They have a meeting in two days, I can see about getting you halfway set up.

“What? No. I don’t need a parenting group.” Dieter scoffs and Viola raises her eyebrows. 

“Respectful sir, I think you do.” She offers him a wry smile when the baby starts to cry in his arms. 

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” He sighs, trying to rock Rosie and he is struggling to calm her. 

“Here. Can I-?” Viola asks and Dieter practically shoves the baby into her arms. 

“You’re hired.” He declares when Rosie calms down and the crying stops. He can’t do this alone.

“Mr. Bravo,” Viola frowns and shakes her head. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood. I am here temporarily.” She explains. “I have already signed a contract with another family. I came today because it was an emergency.” She wonders if he had heard anything she had said when she arrived, he had looked frazzled but she thought she had been clear. 

“What? No! You seem like such a nice lady and Rosie likes you. Please. I’ll pay more. I’ll do anything to get you to stay.” He pleads, “name your price. I’ll fucking pay it. Please!” He pouts, eyes wide and pleading. 

Viola shakes her head, “I’m so sorry. I can’t get out of the contract. I’ll help you as much as I can. Johan said you need help learning the basics so I’ll show you the basics and take care of Rosie while I can but you’re going to have to learn what to do.” She says, knowing it’s going to be tough.

“I can’t do this.” Dieter wails, knowing life as he knows it is over. Without someone here, he going to fuck it up. “Please, please, you have to stay.” He begs, making Viola shake her head. 

“I am here for one week, Mr. Bravo. Then it will be up to you to find someone to help you care for Rosie. Now, let me show you how to bathe your daughter.”

****

“She’s yours.” Dieter exhales shakily as Johan announces the DNA results. 

“Shit. I- I have a daughter.” He shakes his head and looks over at Rosie who is asleep in her bassinet. “What am I gonna do?” Dieter asks as reality sets in. He has a child that he’s responsible for and Viola is only here for two more days. “She’s - she’s so tiny and I’m gonna fuck it up. She’s gonna get fucked up because of me.” He starts to panic now that reality has hit.

“You are going to go to the parenting class tonight and we are going to continue to look for a nanny.” Johan tells Dieter practically. He’s been surprised that Dieter hasn’t done as many drugs as he normally does, even smoking weed outside because of the baby. “So far all the services I’ve called don’t have anyone available until next year.” He shakes his head. “Apparently it was baby season this year.”

Dieter groans, covering his face with his hands and dragging them down his cheeks. “I have pre-production for the movie coming up in a few weeks. I can’t take her with me to a table read.” He whines and Rosie shifts in her sleep, making Dieter’s heart melt when the movement catches his attention and he looks over. “Fine. I’ll go to the parenting class. Maybe…maybe someone can help me find a nanny there.” He says, determined to find help. 

****

Dieter walks into the church hall, surprised he hasn’t burst into flames. He hasn’t been to church since he was a kid. His mama used to drag him on a Sunday and when he became famous at ten years old, he managed to bail on church because he was working. He sits down in a seat, noticing how all the other attendees are women. Rosie is asleep in her carrier for now and he has the diaper bag at his feet. “Welcome ladies and - oh. Hi, we have a new member.” An older woman smiles at Dieter, “welcome to the single mom support group.”

“Oh, uh, I thought it was-“ Dieter falters for a moment, panicking about being kicked out of the group. “I thought this was a single parent support group.” He explains, shuffling. “I just- uh, the mother of the child- my child- I just got the DNA test back, dropped her off on my door with no warning.” He rambles, trying to explain why he needs to stay. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He confesses, nearly sounding defeated.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You can stay.” A few of the moms recognize Dieter and he looks exhausted. Rosie had kept him up half of the night since Viola has been weaning him off of her help, and he glances around. 

“I’m sorry to - shit. I can go.” He says and you are sitting next to him. 

“No, stay. It’s okay. We are all here to help each other.” Your own son, three months old, is whining and you sigh, pulling your tank top down and unclipping your bra to breastfeed him.

Dieter’s eyes widen at the sight of your breast and he can’t deny his cock twitches a little at the idea of drinking down some milk. Shit, when did that kink happen? “I appreciate it. I have no clue what I’m doing.” He admits again and all the women laugh, “none of us do. It’s instinct and a lot of books.” One giggles, “and Google.”

“I didn’t even know.” Dieter moans, shaking his head. “It was- it was a one night stand.” He feels bad about that, not even able to tell Rosie about his relationship with her mom when she gets older. “I’m trying to hire a nanny but all of them are booked up.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to fuck her up. She’s so tiny. Two months old.”

“What’s her name?” You ask him, looking at the little girl asleep in her carrier. 

“Rosie.” He says with a soft smile, it’s hard to not love the little girl now that he knows she’s his. He wants the best for her, even if she’s stuck with a manic mess like him. “This is Oliver.” You gesture to the baby now asleep on your breast.

Dieter smiles and tries not to notice the grunting sounds the kid is making. Feeling guilty because he knows that he would be making the exact same sounds the kid is if he was sucking down milk from your tit. “That’s nice.” He offers. 

“So what is your name?” The woman in charge smiles fondly at him and he’s surprised no one recognizes him. 

“Uh, Dieter.” He offers, curling his shoulders slightly. “Dieter Bravo.”

“Welcome Dieter.” Several of the women say to him with a smile. 

“So do you have any questions?” Julia, the group leader asks. 

“Where the fuck do I begin?” He replies dramatically, making all the women chuckle. 

“Well, we are here to help each other so might as well start.”

“So my first question. So is their shit always gonna be that black color?” Dieter shakes his head, making a face as he remembers the last diaper he had changed. 

All the women laugh. “No that won’t last for much longer since she’s three months old.” 

Dieter rolls his eyes gratefully. “Oh thank God.” He chuckles. Looking over at you again. “You said your son is two months old? Is he sleeping all night? Is that something that she has to get used to?”

You shake your head, “he isn’t sleeping through the night yet. I breastfeed so he wakes me up every couple of hours. It takes a while for them to sleep through the night. Like six months or so. Have you read any baby books?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Oh you must read - you know what. I’ll send you a list. What’s your number?” You ask and the women all giggle, making you fluster. “I mean, to help. We have babies close in age. It’s good to have help.”

“Do you need a job?” Dieter blurts out, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. “I mean- if your husband doesn’t mind.” He corrects himself, forgetting it was a single mother’s group. “I'm just- I’ve got to start pre-production on the next movie and it’s going to be crazy and you seem like you’re perfect. You handle your baby so easily.” His eyes are wide and pleading, begging you to say yes.

Your eyes widen, "I- um, oh wow. A job?" 

The other women all nod, telling Dieter about your history as a teacher and how you know CPR. You fluster, knowing you need a job. Your maternity leave ended two weeks ago and instead of letting you come back to work, your job had fired you. Between losing your job and your landlord chasing you up on rent, you know this is too good to turn down. "I'm not married and um, what job do you have in mind?"

“Nanny.” He jumps immediately on your question. Knowing that it’s not a ‘no’. “I’ll pay you really well and you can- can you live there? I mean, I can have odd hours and you can stay at my place. You and Oliver.” He makes sure to include your son. “I have a big house. In Sherman Oaks.” As if that would sweeten the deal. “Help me with Rosie and teach me how to be a dad. How to look after her. I don’t expect you to do it all.” He clarifies, having already gotten used to the idea of being a ‘girl dad’. He’s watched a few Tik Toks about it and it looks cool.

You know it sounds too good to be true. A job and a place to live with your son. “I think we need to sit down and talk this through properly. You don’t even know me. Don’t you wanna do a background check?” You ask, knowing you’d be doing that if you were hiring someone to live in your house. “We have a lot to discuss.” You bite your lip and look around the room to see the other moms nodding to encourage you.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dieter nods seriously. “My agent will have that done. Plus the NDA you would have to sign.” He’s grateful you are even thinking about it. “But don’t worry. Most of the tabloid stuff is bullshit. I’m not that bad.” He promises with a quick, charming grin. “We can hammer out the details after this, right?”

“Uh, sure.” You nod and Dieter winks at you before turning back to the women, their own babies in their arms and you know this is too good an opportunity to turn down. “You wanna go get a coffee?” You ask Dieter after Oliver is in his stroller and you look at Rosie who is still asleep, unaware of her father trying to hire her a new nanny. 

“As long as it’s quiet.” He says and you frown, “uh, sure. You said you are going into pre-production so does that mean you are an actor?” You ask, unaware of if he’s famous.

Dieter stares at you for a moment, wondering if you are just trying to play coy but you are just looking at him curiously. “Yeah, uh, I am.” He admits, finding it refreshing that someone on this planet doesn’t know who he is or have any expectations of him. “I normally do two or three movies a year, depending on how long they take to film or whatever.” He struggles with the carrier and the door, holding it open for you on the other side. “Gotta get one of those.” He tells himself, eyeing your stroller.

“We can make a list of what you’ll need. I’m guessing you have the basics but there’s so much stuff.” You sigh, knowing it’s not always been in your reach but someone like him could buy it all. 

“A list sounds good. Coffee?” He suggests, gesturing to the small coffee shop down the street and you nod. 

“Sounds good. I desperately need one. He kept me up all night. He was hungry last night and wouldn’t settle unless he was against my breast.”

Dieter keeps his dirty thoughts to himself, but he doesn’t blame the kid. He would love to sleep with a nipple in his mouth too. “We will make sure to get you an extra shot of espresso.” He promises, carrying the car seat and diaper bag as he walks alongside you. “I’m being serious. About the job, I mean.” He tells you. “I have tried every nanny service in the greater L.A. area with no luck, although I’m on their waitlist.” He sighs and shuffles the carrier when his arm gets tired in one position. “I have an in-law suite you and Oliver can use, if you want a little more privacy than just sleeping upstairs.” He knows he sounds desperate, because he is desperate. Johan knows less than he does about babies and has zero interest in watching the kid while he is busy.

“Let’s sit down with the babies and then we can order.” You suggest and he nods, guiding you over to a table in the back. Rosie is waking up and he panics when she starts to cry. “Oh hello gorgeous.” You murmur, leaning down to look at his daughter and Dieter is fumbling to get the bottle from the bag to make her formula. You sigh, sensing he needs help and you unbuckle the baby, Oliver asleep as you cradle Rosie, her cries settling a little and you stand up, rocking her and you reach for the formula Dieter has, a whole damn container, and work fast on a bottle. “My sister has kids. I used to babysit them.” You explain and work fast with one hand to prepare a bottle and bring it to her lips. “Here you go sweet pea.” You coo as she starts to gulp down the milk.

“You’re really good at this.” Dieter says in awe, watching you handle things so smoothly. “I’m just-I don’t know.” He sighs, feeling bad that he’s not good at this. 

“Babies sense the emotions around them.” You tell him quietly. “You panic, she’s going to become more frantic. Just talk to her while you are getting her bottle ready. Or have one already mixed up, ready to go.” You think about all the formulas that are already bottled and just need a nipple slapped on them. “We can find a routine that works for you.”

Dieter nods, “yes. Yes. God, please take the job. I need you.” He pleads and you shift Rosie into his arms, transferring the bottle to him. 

“I’ll take the job. On one condition.” You say, sitting back down and you rock Oliver’s stroller. 

“Anything.” Dieter vows. 

“You learn too. I don’t want you to just shove her into my arms at the first sign of difficulty. She’s your daughter. You need to know how to care for her, to bond with her. You can’t just hand her off and expect me to do it all. She needs to know her daddy.”

Dieter nods, knowing that he would do that if given the opportunity. “Okay.” He agrees. “I want you to help me become better at taking care of her.” He bites his lip and looks at you. “What do you want for pay?” He asks, listing off a number that the nanny services had given him. “Does that sound okay? Plus, you’ll have full use of the house. And a card for expenses. I don’t expect you to buy the diapers or wipes or any of that shit.”

Your eyes widen, it’s way more than you were making at your old job. Your landlord has been threatening you with eviction since you’re struggling to pay, and this almost seems like fate. “Wow. I- are you sure?” You ask him and he nods, “I’m absolutely sure.” 

You swallow and offer him a soft smile, “then I’m your new nanny.” He grins and your heart thumps in your chest at how handsome he is. “There’s something you gotta know though.” You sigh and Dieter nods, waiting for you to go on. “Oliver’s father. He - he died.” You feel yourself tearing up, “we - I was only a few months pregnant when we got into the car accident.  I didn’t even know I was pregnant at the time but Ollie- he- he died. We were- we were friends, friends with benefits and we got pregnant and he- he never got to meet his son.” You choke, the grief that’s consumed you threatens to take you again. He didn’t have any family left alive so Oliver would’ve been his only family.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter frowns, unsure of how to comfort someone about a death that meaningful but he feels like he should say something. “That is rough. Hopefully- hopefully this will turn into a good arrangement.” He offers with a small shrug, realizing that things could be worse. He can’t imagine what it would be like going through this alone. “After our coffee, do you want to come over? See the house?” He asks. “I can call my agent to draw up any kind of paperwork you want.”

You nod, sniffing to stop yourself from crying about Ollie. You loved him, he was your friend, but you were never in love with him. He had his problems and you had yours. It would’ve never worked. Oliver is here now and you have to be strong for him, to keep Ollie’s memory alive. “Yes. I- this is a lot but I want to change my life. I need a change. I want to work for you.” You say as the barista takes pity on you with the babies and comes over to take your order. “I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” You order and Dieter adds, “with an extra shot of espresso.”

After taking your orders, Rosie finishes her bottle and Dieter shifts to put her up on his shoulder to burp. “Hang on, you need a spit rag.” You insist, digging in your own diaper bag to produce one. 

“Huh,” Dieter huffs, “I just thought I was supposed to wear her puke until she stopped doing that.” He jokes, the stains on his shirt only partly from his daughter. 

“No, you always carry multiple burp clothes and changes of clothes, for both of you.” You tell him with a smile.

He nods, mentally taking notes. He has so much to learn from you to make sure his daughter is well looked after. He doesn’t want to fail at being a father. He wants her to know he did everything he could to be a good daddy. He knows you will be good for Rosie, for him too. He sips his coffee and watches you with Oliver, rocking his stroller, and he can see you’re a good mom. He feels comfortable with you. “Do you wanna come back to my place?” Dieter asks, realizing that’s the first time he’s asked that question without it being for sex or drugs

You bite your lip and look up at the frazzled, yet handsome man who is offering you a dream situation. A place to live and the ability to stay at home with your son while still earning money. You don’t know if you would ever get a better offer. “Yes.” You agree. “I’ll follow you? Maybe you can text me the address in case we get separated?” You want to look it up really quickly, just to make sure it’s a real place.

He nods, taking your number to text you his address. He is anxious for you to see the house, hoping you love it and it helps to get you to take the job. You strap Oliver into his car seat while Dieter does the same to Rosie and soon enough, you’re driving to his house.

“I, uh, I’ll ask the housekeeper to come in more than once a week.” Dieter offers, climbing out of his car as you do the same. He doesn’t want you to think that it’s all going to fall on you. “Oh, Johan told me about a diaper delivery service. All natural diapers? That’s better, right?” He asks, anxious about doing the right thing. He had read about the chemicals used in the nappies he currently has.

You smile at his anxiety, wanting the best for Rosie, and you know he’s going to be a good daddy once he gets his feet under him. “Johan?” You ask and Dieter nods, “my assistant. He’s - he is my lifeline.” Dieter confesses and you nod, understanding he lives a completely different life to you. He needs an assistant to manage his schedule. You take Oliver out of the car in his carrier and follow Dieter into the house, your eyes wide at the gorgeous home he owns. “This is - wow.” You exhale as you enter the grand property.

“Thank you.” Dieter shows you the bottom floor and opens the door to his study. “I have all this shit I don’t know what it’s for.” The room is filled with boxes of toys and jumpers, cribs and carriers. Johan had gone overboard but Dieter had wanted to make sure that he had everything he needed. Your eyes widen and he blushes, “I was trying my best.” 

You nod, understating he has struggled since Rosie was dropped on his doorstep. “We can get everything set up. Does she have a nursery?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she’s been in my room. I- I haven’t really slept. I’ve been trying to watch her sleep in case, you know.” 

You understand, knowing you stay awake watching Oliver breathing. It’s a lot of anxiety being a first time parent. “We will get her nursery set up and then you can keep her in your room if you want but then she has somewhere to nap and call her own.” You smile and rub his shoulder after you set Oliver down in his carrier, he’s asleep. “It’s gonna be fine.” You promise him, glancing around the beautiful living room. “It’s gonna need some baby proofing and, uh, that needs to go.” You gesture to the powder packet on the counter.

“Oh, I, uh-“ Dieter rushes forward and grabs the packet to sweep it off the counter and into his pocket. “I haven’t- that’ll be put away.” He promises, cursing himself for leaving it out. He hadn’t taken any lately, not since Rosie arrived because he’s too fucking scared of something happening to her while he’s bombed. “Sorry.” He hopes you don’t decide to leave him high and dry because of that. “Do you want to see the rooms you and Oliver could have?” He asks desperately.

You stop him, “I- I am taking the job but you won’t do drugs in this house with the babies. If something happened or they got hold of it - I couldn’t - no drugs in this house. Period. You wanna go get high somewhere else? Fine. But your daughter comes first, you understand?” You ask him, knowing you won’t risk your own son around that kind of bullshit.

Immediately nodding, Dieter understands what you are saying. “I haven’t- not since she’s arrived.” He confesses. “I’ve been too scared to even try in case something happens.” He’s not stupid enough to think he won’t do drugs anymore but he does want to be there for his daughter.

You nod, knowing it’s not ideal but it will have to do. As long as they aren’t kept in the house and he doesn’t do them around the children, it’s his business. You are just his employee. “Okay.” You pat his shoulder and he guides you to the guest suite. “Dieter…this is…wow.” You gasp at the massive room, “this is - this is a lot. Are you sure - there’s no other room you want me to have?” You ask, knowing this room is the size of your apartment.

“You need room for you and Oliver.” He shrugs, not wanting to say that he doesn’t have guests unless it was someone from a party. And he doubts he’s having those here anymore. “This way you have privacy and your own bathroom.” He knows that is important and figured this would be perfect. “And using another room for Oliver is okay too.” He doesn’t want to suggest the nursery can be shared, but he wouldn’t mind. “Will this work?”

You smile, reaching out to pat his arm, “this is more than enough, Dieter. It’s perfect.” You promise and he grins, pleased that you are happy. He sighs when Rosie starts to cry and Oliver follows suit, both babies waking up. “Come on daddy, let’s go feed the babies.���

He feels more confident with you beside him. Even if it’s just your presence reminding him that he should test the bottle on the inside of his wrist before popping the nipple in Rosie’s mouth while Oliver is greedily suckling at your breast for his own meal. “That wasn’t too bad.” He grins down at his daughter, eyes wide but slowly starting to close as she gulps down the bottle. “How often do you have to feed Oliver?” He asks, trying to keep his eyes on your face respectfully. You aren’t giving him a show.

“About every one and a half to two hours. Depends on when he’s hungry. He lets me know.” You chuckle and watch your son as his gulps turn into suckles which lead to him falling asleep against your breast. “It’s - it’s exhausting but he’s worth it.” You smile at Dieter who is rocking Rosie. “You’re getting better already. We will make a list of everything we need for you and, um, I guess I better go and pack.” You smile bashfully, knowing this is a big move but it’s what’s best for you and Oliver.

“Why don’t we hire someone to pack you?” Dieter asks with a frown. You have your hands full and he knows that it will take a lot to take care of your son and try to pack. “I’ll pay for it. I don’t mind. That way we can get the nursery set up.”

“Are you sure? I- I don’t know if you’re gonna find someone so late notice. I don’t have much. And I will need Oliver’s crib and -” 

You don’t get to finish because Dieter is pulling out his phone to call Johan and arrange for your things to be moved today. “Whatever it costs.” Dieter says and you swallow, knowing Dieter has more money than you could imagine if he can waste it like that. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, cradling Oliver who is fast asleep.

“It’s nothing.” Dieter waves away the thanks and looks down at Rosie as she finishes the last of her bottle. “Okay little girl, let’s get you to burp, and then maybe a nap?” He asks, grinning. “She has the manliest burps.” He brags, astounded that something so small could make such a racket. “I have the other cradle thingy if you want to lay your son down.”

“The bassinet?” You smirk and he shrugs one shoulder, “I’m still learning.” You nod and let him guide you to the bassinet and you carefully lay Oliver down before adjusting your shirt after clipping your nursing bra. Rosie burps and you giggle softly, liking how proud Dieter is of her and you watch him lay her down in the cradle next to Oliver. “Maybe they will be best friends.” You whisper, leaning closer to him.

“That would be cool.” Dieter imagines it, his own childhood lonely and isolated. There were times he had wished desperately for a built-in friend. “Let’s get out of here before we wake them up.” He has learned that Rosie is cranky if she gets woken up before she’s ready and he doesn’t blame her, he’s the same way. Maybe she got it from him. “So, uh, since there’s two kids….just, um, we’re gonna need that double stroller thingy, right?” Dieter asks as he walks down the hall with you. “And can you show me that carrier thing? The one you have the baby wrapped to your body? That looks cool. Oh, and uh, the diapers. The service, when we get that set up, use it for Oliver too.” He adds. “No need to have two different types of diapers, right?”

You nod, realizing it’s best not to argue. “Let’s leave them to sleep and we can work on getting the nursery set up. I- I really appreciate this opportunity, Dieter.” You tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek. He blushes as you set your phone up as a makeshift baby monitor, calling his phone, and you leave the babies to sleep. Dieter follows you, his eyes dropping down to your ass, and he curses internally when he realizes he finds you hot. 

****

“Dieter!” You call out, trying to find your boss. Oliver and Rosie are having tummy time on the play mat and you need your breast pump. It’s been a couple of months since you moved in with Dieter to become his full time nanny and it’s been surprisingly nice. Rosie is a good girl and you’ve grown to fall in love with her, making sure her and Oliver get equal treatment. “Can you get my pump?” You ask when he doesn’t respond.

“Yeah!” Dieter reluctantly lets go of his cock and tucks it away in his dress slacks. He had been trying to tug one out before he had to go to court, formally getting custody of his daughter. Nervous and not able to get high, jerking off had become even more of a habit than before now he had started thinking about you while he was doing it. You’re so fucking pretty and kind. Looking like an angel as you take care of his daughter. Dieter knows that he’s falling in love with you but he can’t do anything about it. Not willing to risk you leaving and denying Rosie the best nanny in the world. Washing his hands quickly, he rushes to the kitchen to grab the pump where you had cleaned it last night while he sterilized bottles. “Here it is.”

You thank him, breasts aching and you attach the suction, not thinking about Dieter as you sigh in relief at the milk finally being pumped. “Shit. That feels good.” You groan, the whooshing of the machine pumping and you have been pumping enough for Rosie to have milk too. It’s been a lot but you love the babies. “What time do you have to leave?” You ask Dieter, catching him staring at your tits and you hate that it thrills you. He’s so sexy, unintentionally so, and goofy as hell. He’s good with his daughter and you’ve grown close, raising the babies together, and you know it’s getting harder and harder to deny how you feel every day.

“Oh, uh, I gotta leave in twenty minutes.” His cock is still hard in his trousers and he twitches at the groan you make. Every day you pump, having no modesty around him now and you shouldn’t - it’s natural but Dieter still thinks it’s sexy. “I’m nervous.” He admits, glancing over at Rosie as she squeals and waves her arms on her tummy. “I know that my lawyer said it’s a formality, but what if the judge doesn’t like me? What if he takes Rosie from me?”

You shake your head and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I promise you, it’s gonna be fine, D. You’re a good daddy and that will be shown. I know your past hasn’t been ideal but you got this. You’re a good man, Rosie is lucky to have you. We all are. It’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” You offer him a soft smile and squeeze his hand again.

“I’m more nervous than the night I won my Oscar.” Dieter confesses with a nervous chuckle. He doesn’t tell you that he was high, sure that you could guess that, although he has done anything more than hit his weed pen since you’ve moved in. Rosie is surprisingly therapeutic, although he’s glad she doesn’t understand what he talks about during the nights he gets up with her. The movie is almost halfway done shooting and he’s going to make sure that once he’s done, you get a week off so you can veg for more than a night. He looks down at your joined hands and smiles. “I’ll call you when I get out, okay?” He asks, and you nod, letting go of him. “And eat that kale and beet salad in the fridge”, he throws over his shoulder as he rushes towards the door. “It’s supposed to help the milk supply.”

You roll your eyes playfully, looking back at the babies. “Daddy is silly, isn’t he?” You talk to Rosie and look at Oliver, saddened that he isn’t going to know his father. You wonder what Ollie would think of Dieter. They are similar in a lot of ways but Ollie was always practical, making sure you weren’t in a relationship because of his strenuous job as a firefighter. He didn’t want you to be one of those women sitting around waiting for him. You sigh and wonder what you are going to do about Dieter. It’s too comfortable with him. 

****

“Dinner’s ready!” You call out. The babies are now six and seven months old. Sitting in their baby bouncers, watching you setting the dinner out for Dieter. He’s finished filming and you want to celebrate. The nice bottle of wine on the table alongside his favorite pasta.

“Oh my god, you spoil me.” Dieter groans as he comes into the dining room, freshly showered and in comfortable clothes. Rosie squeals happily and so does Oliver, both of them in their high chairs. Dieter grins leaning in and blowing a raspberry on his daughter’s cheek and then on your son’s. He never thought he was a kid type of person, but his playfulness extends to your son. He’s a good kid and it would not be right when you are so good with Rosie if he ignored the little guy. It makes him imagine that the four of you are a family, a real one and he was coming home from work to all of you. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You shake your head, enjoying the way his hand finds your waist as you reach for the parmesan on the counter. You turn to face him, cupping his cheek, “you just finished filming. You deserve a treat.” You smile, caressing his cheek and your eyes dip down to his lips for a second. He stares at you and you clear your throat, lowering your hand, “let’s eat. You must be starving.” You set the cheese down and glance over at the babies, you fed them while dinner was cooking so now you and Dieter can enjoy your meal.

“How was your day?” He’s finding that this, fatherhood and responsibility, is grounding for him. Not just concentrating on his whims and trolling through boredom. Every day is different and challenging with kids, especially when he’s trying to make sure that none of his own parents' mistakes affect Rosie. “The kids were okay?” He asks, pouring more wine into each of your glasses. You hum in protest but Dieter shakes his head. “Just pump and dump. You deserve more than one glass.” He huffs.

You sigh but let him pour some more wine, it’s been stressful with the babies today. “Rosie decided to throw up all over Oliver and herself so both of them needed a bath and then Oliver managed to get his diaper off in his onesie so he needed another bath and then Rosie wouldn’t stop crying because Oliver wasn’t next to her. It’s been - it’s been a day.” You sigh and Dieter nods, reaching for your hand. It feels so normal, like you’re complaining to your husband about your hectic day over wine and you look up at Dieter, “I love them both so much but today was…it was a lot.”

“I can imagine.” Dieter squeezes your hand gently and once again thinks that it’s odd that you don’t feel like his employee. You feel like his wife, although he’s never kissed you, or touched you like he’s imagined. “Let me take both the kids tonight.” He offers. “I’ve got the next week off before I have to do all the press bullshit for the other movie coming out in two weeks. Why don’t you take a little vacation? A spa or something?” His parenting skills have improved drastically and there have been times where he’s watched Oliver for you. Like when you had to go for another postpartum checkup.

You groan, letting go of his hand so you can continue eating. “I won’t lie…a massage sounds good. My back has been killing me.” You confess, twirling the pasta around your fork and you bite your lip, wondering what a massage from him would be like with his hands. “I wouldn’t mind going to the mall. I need some new clothes that aren't leggings.” You chuckle, “and I need some new underwear.” You sigh before you chew on the pasta.

Dieter’s cock twitches at the thought of your underwear. Not that he sees them. You’ve taken over doing the laundry even though he offered to have someone come in. Or he could help. Insisting that it was no problem. Johan had even commented that you made his house seem like a real home, and Dieter couldn’t deny that. “You could do all that.” He promises. “I’ll watch the kids. I want to spend some time with R and O.”

You feel guilty leaving the kids behind but you trust Dieter, something you never thought you’d say, but he has proven himself to be an amazing father. You smile, “thanks baby.” You tell him and he swallows the wine down. It’s getting harder to deny how you feel. After finishing eating, Dieter helps you clean up while you have the babies in the play pen. “Bedtime for the bubbies.” You coo, picking up Rosie and kissing her hair. “Daddy is gonna change you, baby girl.” You slide her into Dieter’s arms and pick up Oliver.

“Why don’t you go take your own bath?” Dieter offers, grinning down at Rosie. “You’ve had them all day and you said it’s been rough. Go take a bubble bath. I can get them ready for bed.” He’s made huge strides as a father, as a caretaker and now that he’s more confident, he finds he likes it. Kids are fun. And easy to learn how to please. “I can rock them both and get them settled.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, trusting him but you want him to be comfortable. 

“I am for this.” He promises and you nod, “you got this. I- I can feed O before they get to sleep.” You say and he shakes his head. 

“No. I got it.” He promises, knowing he can warm up your milk. 

You lean in to kiss the babies’ heads, “goodnight my loves. I love you so much.” You say to them and you look up at Dieter, offering him a grateful smile. You make your way into the bathroom, sighing in relief when you sink into the tub.

Dieter hums to the babies as he warms up their last bottles of the night. Changed and in clean onesies, they are ready for that last bottle. Smirking to himself as he tests the breast milk on his wrist and barely resists licking it. He wants to try it, but he feels like that might be crossing a line. Getting both of the babies settled in each arm and they can hold their own bottle now with a little help. “You two are like twins, you know that?” He coos at both of them, settling in the rocker on the nursery while they eat. Watching their eyes grow heavier as they suck. You had both decided to keep them in the same nursery, letting them bond and it has worked out so much better than he had ever hoped. He loves Oliver like Rosie and when they fall asleep at the same time, he’s grinning as he holds them for a little longer before shifting to put them to sleep in the same crib. They cried if they were separated, curling up together during the night as if they were twins.

You sigh, relaxing in the hot water until you decide to get out and say goodnight to the babies. You shrug your robe on, tying it as you make your way to the nursery as Dieter leans over the crib. “They asleep?” You whisper and he nods. You caress their heads, loving how they are asleep together, keeping each other safe. Sometimes you see them holding hands in the night. It’s adorable. You rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as you watch them for another moment and he turns his head to kiss your hair. It makes your heart pound and you pull away, letting the babies sleep with the white noise machine running.

Dieter’s hands seem to be twitchy as you walk out of the nursery in front of him. He knows that you are only dressed in a robe and he wants nothing more than to strip you out of it and touch you. Make you shake in pleasure. “Do you want to have a drink?” Dieter asks. “Or are you calling it a night?”

“A drink sounds good. Relax after a long day.” You smile, walking into the kitchen to open the second bottle of wine you’d bought earlier. You work fast to open it, pouring a glass and handing it to him before you settle on the sofa. “You wanna continue watching that show on HBO?” You ask, knowing he hates it when you watch an episode without him.

“Yes!” Dieter lights up and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You better not have already watched it.” He threatens playfully, handing you the remote. He likes when you relax and loves that you feel completely at home here. It is your home. He leans towards you and takes a sip of the wine. “What do you think is gonna happen, this episode? The previews looked good.”

You nod, shifting closer towards him. “I promise you. I haven’t seen it yet.” You assure him and have another sip of your wine. You love and hate how relaxed you are, how easy this is. How real it feels. Like you’re a proper family. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as he presses play. You barely watch the show, too focused on the way Dieter feels pressed against you.

About halfway through the show Dieter shuffles, throwing his arm around the backside of the couch and around you. Letting you slide down against him more. You pull the throw blanket over your legs and he smiles, wondering how you are always cold but it’s a cute quirk he’s noticed.

You snuggle into his side, hand finding his chest and you caress the skin under the shirt he always has half buttoned. He sighs and you breathe him in, pleased to feel his heart thumping under your touch. This intimacy, it’s what keeps you satisfied when you yearn for more but you can’t risk it. Your job. Your home. Your life is connected to his and you can’t afford to mess it up. 

“Marry me.” Dieter says and you think you misheard him. 

“What?” You ask, not moving. 

“Marry me.” He repeats and you jerk back from his side so you can look him in the eyes. 

“What- did you just ask me to marry you?”

“I did.” Dieter nods, turning towards you and reaching for your hand. “I love you. I love how you make this house feel like a home. I love how you care for Rosie and I love Oliver.” He adds. “I love coming home to you and I want this-“ he motions around the house and between the two of you. “To be real. I want to touch you, kiss you. Make love to you.” Dieter isn’t a man who talks in terms like ‘making love’ but that’s exactly what it would be. “I think you love me too, don’t you? I know you do.”

You shake your head, wanting to tell him you love him. He’s crazy, he leaves his socks everywhere and he has so many holes in his shirts but he’s kind and whacky and so damn funny. You love him, you’re in love with him, but to marry him would be a bad idea. You can’t risk this life you’ve created together. “Dieter.” You sigh, pulling your hand out of his. “We can’t. We can’t risk the babies. We - if it all went wrong, then I’d be moving out with Oliver and Rosie loses him and vice versa. If it all went wrong, I’d be homeless and I wouldn’t have anything. I can’t risk that for my son. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart breaks but he’s determined to convince you this is a good thing. Latching onto what you said about being homeless, his eyes widen. “I’ll buy you a house.” He bursts out. “In your name alone. It’ll be yours. Completely.” He nods to himself, grinning like an idiot and picks up your hand again. “It won’t go wrong, you’re perfect and I love you. I want to be with you and our babies all the time and fuck, I want another baby when you’re ready.” He missed everything about Rosie’s birth and he wants to see your stomach large with a baby, his baby. “But if it did-“ he stresses the word ‘if’, “-you would have a house for you and Oliver. And you could rent it out right now. The money would be yours. Totally yours.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “I can’t - that’s too much. A house here is insane. That’s a crazy amount to put into this. That - a whole damn house? That’s what you want to do?” You ask incredulously and he nods. 

“All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you. I love you.” He promises and you swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes. 

Your heart yearns for him yet your head tells you it’s too much of a risk. “Dieter…” You trail off and he frowns, pulling away slightly, sensing your rejection. “I love you.” Your eyes water and a sob escapes your lips as you start to cry. No one has ever been so kind to you. To know he loves you enough to buy a house so you feel secure in case something goes wrong. It has you sobbing.

He lunges forward, crushing you to him in a comforting hug. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry. I never want you to cry.” He pleads, sure that he’s messed up somehow. “I’m sorry, I just can’t stop wanting you. Seeing you with our babies, I think- I wish they were ours. Our twins and we had them together.” He rubs your back and pets your hair as you sob into his chest and he tries to think of how he could make you feel better.

You sob into his chest at his words, wishing they were true but it’s not and that’s okay. The babies brought you together and you know you and Dieter would’ve never met if it weren’t for that single moms group. “I - I love you.” You offer him a watery smile as you pull back and he reaches out to gently wipe your tears away. “I love you and I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I love you Dieter.” You confess, cupping his cheeks.

Dieter’s smile is slow, soft and he can’t believe that you are saying yes. He leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Loving how you immediately open for him to slide his tongue against yours with a groan. Pulling you close against him again, this time shamelessly pressing his body against yours. “I love you.” He promises, kissing down your jaw line. “Do you want to have sex with me? Or do you want to wait?” He wants you in his bed, but if you wanted to wait until the deed to the house was in your hands, he would understand that. He would go out tomorrow and buy you the best house he could find.

You know you’ve spent far too much time thinking about him, having him inside of you, pressing against you, and you know you should slow down but you can’t. “I want you. I don’t want to wait. I want you now.” You tell him breathlessly and you press your lips to his, cupping his cheek while you slide your tongue against his.

Groaning, Dieter pulls you closer and starts to lean you back against the sofa, knowing that he needs to take you to bed but right now, he needs to feel you under him. “So beautiful.” He praises, kissing your chin and nips your skin with his teeth.

You sigh, loving how it feels to have him touch you. His hand sliding along your thigh and you whimper, “Dieter. Please. I want you to touch me.” You plead, guiding his hand to the tie of your robe while your hands caress his chest under his ratty t-shirt.

He hums, twitching against your hip and he leans back and grins at you, “I’m going to, baby. I’m going to make sure you know exactly what you are getting from me.” He pulls your robe open and groans at the sight of your tits. Looking back up at you. “Can I taste?” He asks. “I’ve dreamed of tasting your milk.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing at the thought. “You’ve imagined it?” You ask breathlessly and he nods so you move fast to straddle him, his cock hard against your thigh, and you lean in towards him to kiss him as you shrug your robe off of your shoulders. “You can have a taste.”

He knows your tits are tender, hearing you complain and watching as you sometimes have to massage them. He cups them in his hands, groaning at how full they are, grinning. “Fuck, I can drink it all since you were going to dump it.” He realizes as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one nipple.”

“Oh shit.” You gasp, groaning softly at the relief and arousal coursing through you. You love it. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you watch him gulp down your milk and you’re amazed that he enjoys it. “Oh God baby.” You pant, feeling the relief of your milk draining and the way he sucks on your nipple, biting it now and then.

“Shit.” He gasps, feeling his cock throbbing. “It’s better than I expected.” He moans, switching to your other breasts and he knows this will become a favorite thing for him now. One hand slides down between your thighs and he is so fucking happy to find you wet.

“Dieter. Please.” You beg, needing more from him. It’s been so long since someone touched you. Not since Ollie. You rock down onto his fingers, loving how he rubs your clit while his lips suckle on your other breast. “Oh fuck, D. So good.” You whimper, caressing his shoulders.

“What do you want, baby?” He pulls off your nipple with a pop. “You want me to eat your pussy?” He groans at the thought. “Want to sit on Dieter’s face? Smother me with your cunt?”

You giggle breathlessly, “that’s the only way to shut you up?” You tease and he nods, “one of the few ways.” 

You laugh and he moves fast to shift, laying down and he pulls you over to hover over his face. “Shit baby. So good to me.” You gasp when he drags you down on top of his face.

The first taste is always amazing. Sliding his tongue though your folds as he pulls your hips down onto his mouth. Holding you there as he licks and then sucks on your clit.

You whimper, “baby. Oh baby.” You moan, grinding down onto his face. “So good. So fucking good.” You moan, loving how enthusiastic he is and he squeezes your ass, encouraging you to move. You do, rocking your hips down even more.

He doesn’t care that you two are on the couch or that he is throbbing in his pants. All he cares about is making you moan his name. He knows he will slide inside you as soon as you cum for him. He moans against your clit, loving how you are smothering him just like he wanted you to. Using him for your pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck. It’s so good, baby.” You pant, lost in the pleasure of his mouth on you. You rock on top of his mouth, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pushes deep. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. Yes. Keep - keep going.” You beg, moaning his name.

He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. Too busy licking into you to feel your walls start to convulse around his tongue. Moaning when the first rush if your juices hit his mouth and your moan of his name almost makes him cum in his pants. Digging his fingers into your hips, Dieter doubles down on making you shriek his name.

You throw your head back as he makes you cum, moaning his name as you clamp down around his tongue. “Fuck baby. Fuck. I- I love you.” You whine when he works you through it and you whimper, lifting off of him when it becomes too much.

Panting like he was the one who had cum, Dieter licks his lips, completely pussy drunk as he caresses your side. Enjoying the boneless way you collapse on top of him as you try to catch your breath. “I love you. Fuck, you’re my new favorite meal.”

You inhale deeply, shifting off of him and you waste no time in tugging his shirt off of him. “Baby. I want to see all of you.” You tell him, tossing the ragged shirt away and you pull his sweats down to expose his cock. “Holy - that’s what you got?” Your eyes are wide at the girth and you wrap your fingers around him.

Dieter groans, bucking his hips and biting his lip in pleasure. “Fuck, is that not enough?” He gasps out. Normally women have no issue with his size but maybe your Ollie was hung like a horse.

“Not enough? Dieter, baby, I’m gonna feel you tomorrow.” You assure him, “I’m gonna need - wow. You might have to get some lube.” You admit and you start to pump him, in awe that your fingers don’t touch. You know it’s been so long since you’ve had sex and he is thick. You’ve always preferred girth over length anyway. “You’re big.” You promise him, leaning in to flick your tongue over the leaking slit.

He preens at your praise, eyes rolling back in his head at the feel of your tongue. “I’ve got lube.” He promises, reaching down and cradling your jaw. “Use it all the time, jerking off thinking about you.” He’s not ashamed of masturbating while thinking of you. “Baby let's go to the bedroom. You can ride me if you want more control.”

You want to suck his cock but you know you’ll have plenty of time to do that later. Right now, you need him inside of you. Releasing his cock, you pick up the baby monitor and stand up, smirking as you make your way to his bedroom. He’s scrambling to get his sweatpants off and you disappear down the hall, throwing over your shoulder, “don’t keep me waiting, Bravo.”

“Shit.” He hisses, eager to chase after you. Noticing that you are headed to his bedroom and not your own. “I’m coming baby, fuck.” He watches your ass shake as you sway your hips. “Gonna buy you the biggest fucking house I can find.”

You giggle, setting the monitor down on the nightstand and you gasp when Dieter’s hands grab your hips, pulling you back into him. You quickly spin and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.” You murmur against his mouth, his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

“I love you too.” Dieter moans softly, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. “Do you- do you need me to wear a condom?” He asks, sure that you aren’t wanting to get pregnant so soon after having your son. It wasn’t like you two had discussed birth control.

“No. I- I got an IUD put in. Figured they might as well do it while I was there and it wasn’t painful. I’m clean too. Not been with anyone since Ollie.” You promise and wonder if he’s clean. You don’t know when he slept with someone last. Maybe after you arrived. You don’t know. It’s not like it was your business when you were just his nanny.

He nods. “I uh, I haven’t been with anyone since Rosie has shown up. I’m clean.” He promises, eager to slide inside you and feel you without a barrier. “I didn’t want to do that kind to shit around her. Give her a good example. Don’t want her to be like me.”

You cup his cheeks, “you’re a good father and she’s gonna be just fine. You’re doing a good job.” You remind him, leaning in to kiss along his jaw. “Come on baby, you want me to ride you?” You ask and he nods. You let go of him and he walks over to his nightstand to grab the lube while you kneel on the bed. When he’s laying down, you grab the bottle and squirt some into your hand, wrapping your fingers around his cock to coat him before you swipe your fingers through your folds to make sure you’re slick enough. “Fuck, you’re gonna stretch me out.” You tell him as you straddle him.

“Want to see it.” Dieter pants, chest heaving as he watches you position his cock at your entrance. Moaning your name as you start to sink down on him, he can feel his entire body light up in pleasure at the hot clutch of your cunt. “I love you. I fucking love you.” Dieter cries, his fingers digging into your thighs as you slowly take him deeper, watching your mouth drop open and loving the way you moan his name.

Your eyes close as you slowly sink down onto him. He’s so thick, it stings, but you like that. It’s been so long since you had sex and this is the man you love. Your heart pounds in your chest as your thighs meet his, his cock fully inside of you, and his fingers sink into your flesh. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He grunts and you giggle, leaning down to kiss along his jaw. “I fucking love you too.” You murmur, licking along his neck until you are biting his earlobe so you can give yourself a moment to adjust to him.

He whines, unable to stop himself from lurching up in pleasure. “Oh did you like that?” You giggle breathlessly, making him moan and turn his head so you can do it again. 

“More baby, fuck. Want you to mark me up.” He begs, so starved for attention that he needs to drown in it. His hand squeezes your ass again and it takes concentration to not urge you to move, your walls fluttering so deliciously around him.

You love how desperate he is for you. Biting down on his earlobe again and his cock twitches inside of you. You take pity, finally feeling comfortable, and you shift, rocking on his cock while you nibble on his ear, whispering “you’re mine. I’m gonna make sure everyone sees it.” You smirk as you kiss down his neck, sucking and biting on his skin.

“Fuck yes, I’m yours, I’m yours.” Dieter chants, rocking his hips up to chase your cunt when you lift off of him. Hating even the brief few seconds where he’s not buried inside your warmth. “All yours baby.” He groans, closing his eyes at the pure bliss of being able to touch you, to tell you what he’s thinking without worrying about offending you. “Gonna marry you. Give you everything.” He gasps out.

You moan, “I’m yours too. Been yours since I moved into this house. I’m gonna be your wife.” You promise and he groans, hands caressing your back. You kiss his collarbone and shift back, making his cock sink deeper and you grab his hands to help you balance as you ride his cock. “Fuck. Yes. God, so good. So good inside of me.” You ramble, squeezing his hands as you start to pick up the pace.

“God, fuck, your pussy is gold.” His toes curl and he loves how you start to bounce on his cock. Making your tits away heavily and he watches with them unabashed lust. “So fucking gorgeous.” He pants. “Can’t wait to see you pregnant, riding my cock.”

“One day.” You promise with a grin, breathless from how good this feels. You let go of his hands, leaning back to grab his knees, and you grind down onto his cock, hitting just the right spot to make you gasp. “Fuck, baby. Oh my - I’m - it’s gonna make me cum.” You confess, reaching down to rub your clit.

Dieter frowns and slaps your hand away, pouting up at you. “Let me.” He insists, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing a tight circle over the bundle of nerves while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck baby, cum, please cum. I’m gonna -“ he hisses. “Not gonna last. Too fucking tight.” Your walls clenching down around him every other bounce is getting to be too much and he grits his teeth, praying he lasts long enough for you to soak his cock.”

Your moans are getting breathier as you struggle to breathe from the pleasure. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Dieter. I’m gonna - oh!” You moan, clamping down on his cock and soaking him, his thumb still working your clit until your thighs are shaking. “Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, wanting to feel it as you convulse on top of him from your orgasm.

You don’t have to say anything else. His entire body is aching to cum, gripping your hips harshly as he starts to thrust wildly up into your body. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiiiiiiit.” Dieter whines, burying his cock half a dozen more times before his back is bowing and he is crying out your name, filling you with hot spurts of his seed.

You pant, collapsing onto his chest as his cock twitches inside of you, and you kiss along his neck. Unable to speak, you enjoy the aftermath of your orgasms. The connection you feel to Dieter has you on cloud nine. He’s a good father and a good man, despite what the paps print. He’s changed for his child and that makes you love him more. “Good?” You ask breathlessly, hoping he enjoyed it as much as you did.

“So fucking good.” Dieter’s eyes are closed and his expression is one of pure relaxation. Enjoying the way you feel on top of him. “God, you’re spending the night right here. Every night from now on.” He slides a hand up and down your back, enjoying the feeling of your slick skin under his palm. “Now we just need the kids to sleep through the night.”

“Soon. They are getting better. And you want another one to keep us awake?” You tease, giggling when his cock twitches inside of you. 

“I do.” He promises and you caress his cheek, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Me too. One day.” You lean in to softly kiss his lips, knowing you want this man to be your husband, to be everything. **** 

“Diet, babe. Can you get me that - shit.” You hiss after you feel the baby kick your ribcage. 

“Bad word mama.” Rosie points at you and you nod, “sorry, love. Mama needs to sit down.” You tell the three year old. Ollie comes over to sit down on the sofa next to you, his small hand on your belly as he leans in to talk to the baby in your belly. Rosie follows suit, wanting to do what her brother is doing. 

“Hello baby. It’s me. Your big brother-” 

“and sister.” Rosie adds as she leans in to press her ear to your stomach. You smile, tears in your eyes and look up to see Dieter walk into the living room. 

“You called baby?” He asks, paint splattered all over him from painting the new nursery. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Can you- can you get me some ice cream?” You bite your lip, knowing he’s been run ragged with your cravings.

Dieter grins, shoving his hand through his paint flecked hair, although he teases that the gray is because of you and the babies. “What kind of ice cream do you want, babe?” He strides over and rubs your bump before dropping a kiss on your lips. “Rocky road or are you wanting that cheesecake strawberry swirl?” He knows you will probably text him with more cravings, but he doesn’t mind. You are carrying his baby and you get what you want.

You smile at him, loving how flustered he looks when he has to go get your cravings, and you run your fingers over the kids’ heads before they look up at Dieter. 

“Can we have ice cream, daddy?” Rosie asks, that pout she definitely got from Dieter on her face. 

Oliver nods, “yes! Vanilla.” 

Rosie shakes her head, “chocolate!” 

You giggle and look at your husband, “I’ll have rocky road. Guess it’s an ice cream day.” You say and the kids cheer, excited to have ice cream.

“Vanilla, chocolate and rocky road.” Dieter nods, smiling down at the kids. He could never deny them much and while they would be considered spoiled, they were very well behaved. “Oh-“ he snaps his fingers. “Before I forget. The management agency called. They found another renter for the house and said that the repairs for the house were minimal, just paint to freshen up.” 

True to his word, he had bought you a house, deeded it in your name and hired a management company to handle the day to day issues and repairs. All of the profits were deposited into a bank account that was solely yours, even though you had access to everything of Dieter’s. “So that’s a weight off before the baby comes.”

The money going into that bank account is going to pay for the kids’ college. You won’t use it for yourself, not when you are happily married to Dieter. “Yes. Glad they managed to find another tenant.” You smile, reaching for his hand to kiss the back of it. 

“Daddy!” Oliver rushes over to him after shifting off of the sofa. 

“Yeah, buddy?” Dieter groans as he bends over to pick him up. 

“Can I come? To get ice cream?” He asks and Dieter nods, “of course.” You smile, loving how close Oliver and Dieter are. You adopted Rosie and he adopted Oliver not long after you were married. It felt natural and meant to be. Your little family, complicated but perfect. 

“We will be right back. Rosie, you wanna come?” Dieter asks and she shakes her head, climbing onto the sofa. 

“I wanna stay with mommy.” You pull her close, “we can watch our show while the boys are out.” You tell her in a playful whisper and she grins. 

“We will be back soon.” Dieter promises and you smirk at him, “after ice cream, the kids need to nap. Mommy needs ‘nap time’ too.” You say to Dieter and he smirks back at you, “what mommy wants, mommy gets.” He promises, knowing he wants you to moan his name while the kids are asleep. From Rosie getting shoved into his arms on a random day, to having a family with a baby on the way. Dieter never imagined being a family man but now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

[dark-and-kawaii]

Milky

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ 18+

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Your chest ached and you were in dire need of some relief. Who better to turn to then your incubus, Haarlep.

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Cock Warming | Lactation | Pregnancy | Fluff

Ao3

Your breasts were swollen and aching, filled with milk that caused you discomfort. Seeking relief, you turned to your unconventional lover, Haarlep, who never had qualms about aiding you.

As you approached Haarlep while they sat, your breasts spilling over the top of your lacy garments, your nipples already hard and sensitive, "Haarlep, my sweet sweet incubus…" you whispered while cupping their cheeks, your voice filled with need, "my breasts...” You could feel your cheeks flush, “t-they ache…”

He looked at you with a raised brow, their infamous smile appearing at the realization as to what you were trying to ask. Haarlep was still Haarlep, despite being freed from both Mephistopheles and Raphael, the incubus wished to hear you ask, to beg, to say it aloud that you wanted them to relieve you. You huffed and averted your gaze, the embarrassment making your stomach flip and heart race. It felt as though butterflies were fluttering around within you all over again...

They placed their hands on your hips, their claws digging in and making you gasp, "Ask me for it, little dove." They cooed, "Ask for my help."

You shivered, knowing Haarlep enjoyed seeing you embarrassed, enjoyed hearing you say those words. You were his pet and he was your master in these moments, "P-please," you stuttered, "please Haarlep, m-make the pain go away. I need you…" Your voice was so soft, yet so desperate at the same time for their touch.

They smirked, leaning down and nipping at your neck, "Of course, darling." Their hand resting on the swell of your stomach, “Sit on my lap and let me ease your suffering."

You straddled Haarlep's lap, feeling the hardness of their cock pressing against you. Their clawed hands reaching up to tug at the lacy straps of your garment, exposing your swollen, needy buds. Your breasts ached, the relief coming only when the cool air of the room touched them.

Haarlep wasted no time, they cupped your heavy, swollen mounds and squeezed. You whimpered, arching your back into their touch, a wave of relief washing over you as their lips closed around one nipple. Their tongue swirling around the tender bud, teasing and flicking it, before sharp teeth grazed it ever so slightly and bit down. Your cries echoed through your room, their fangs sinking deeper into the sensitive flesh, almost hard enough to draw blood… Haarlep was losing themself in the pleasure, their body feeding off you, taking your lust and turning it into energy.

Their tail wrapped around your other breast, squeezing and milking your swollen nipple, "I've been neglecting your breasts," they said, "How awful I didn't realize they were so full." You could feel their smirk on your chest.

The incubus' words were soft, yet their tail continued to squeeze and pull at your nipple, the tip teasing it. He was going to take his time with you, and it was agonizing. You felt them shift beneath you, and then the hard, warm sensation of their cock pressing between your folds. You shuddered and rolled your hips, grinding against their erection, feeling it rub against your clit and slick the shaft with your wetness. “Haarlep-“ you closed your eyes your head leaned back as you felt their hands caress your round stomach, their cock pressing against your entrance.

"Warm me," They gripped your hips and pushed you down onto their cock, their lips still on your nipple.

Your mouth fell open but your eyes remaining shut, a strangled cry leaving your lips as you felt them penetrate you, stretch you, fill you. Their cock warm and throbbing, thick and long, their ridges hitting all the right spots and filling you just the way you liked.

You could feel Haarlep begin to suck, your milk releasing, easing the pressure and the pain. Their lips sealed around your nipple, their teeth holding it in place. Haarlep continued to drink greedily from your breast, your milky substance flowing freely and creating a delicious mess as it trailed out the corner of their mouth. Their cock buried deep within you, the base swelling and locking inside, the tip pressing against your most sensitive spots.

You cried out, the pleasure was intense, overwhelming, causing the familiar heat in your core to grow. "H-Haarlep," you panted, "I-I can't." Your body was trembling, your walls gripping and throbbing around his cock, "Haarlep! P-please!"

Their claws dug into your hips, "Hold it," they snarled, their teeth clenching around your nipple. They drank more and more from you, their tongue dancing around. Their hips bucking and cock pumping within you, their movements quickening, the ridges of their cock rubbing against your walls.

You bit your lip, "I-I'm trying, b-but it f-feels too good," you whimpered, feeling their hand move from your hip and down between your legs, their fingers pressing against your swollen, throbbing clit. You clenched your walls around their cock, trying desperately to keep the impending orgasm at bay.

"Such a good pet," He moaned, their lips finally releasing your nipple, their fangs grazing and biting it before moving onto the other. Haarlep's fingers began circling your clit, the pleasure increasing tenfold, the pressure inside building rapidly. You felt their cock twitch, felt their hips begin to stutter.

"Cum," they commanded, their teeth clenching around the swollen nub.

You couldn't hold back any longer, not when they told you to cum. Your body tensed, your walls clenching tightly around their cock, the waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Their hips stilled and you felt their seed spilling into you, coating your walls and filling you, their seed hot and thick, and you could feel the swelling begin to die down. Haarlep drank their fill, your milk dripping down their chin and chest. Their body was warm, their arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

When their mouth finally released your breast, you sighed in relief, their tongue lapping up the remnants of your release, before licking his lips, "Such a delightful treat."

You leaned in and kissed his neck, his seed beginning to trickle out and run down the base of his cock. When you pulled from his lips your eyes were filled with adoration, your voice quiet, "I love you, Haarlep." You smiled and rested your head against his chest, hearing his heart beating within him.

Haarlep stroked your hair and chuckled, "Love, is it?" His arms holding you protectively, "Is that how I've bewitched you, little dove?" He teased, his hand moving to rest on the swell of your stomach, the incubus' gaze filled with triumph. It wasn’t Raphael’s child growing within you, it was Haarlep's. And that knowledge always caused a smug grin to caress their face.

"Yes," You smile up at him, your cheeks flushing, "That is how I've been bewitched by you, Haarlep."

Haarlep leaned in, his lips caressing yours, "Good," they murmured, their words soft, "You've been bewitched, and so I will keep you."

Your cheeks flushed, his words causing your heart to beat wildly within you, "Yes, my sweet incubus," You pressed your lips to his once more, "Forever."

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #haarlep #haarlep x tav #haarlep bg3 #haarlep x reader #raphael bg3 #bg3 smut #tw knotting

[matchavellichor]

A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #dark sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

[craisinsensation1029]

Hold It, Toru

Satoru Gojo

also posted on AO3 :3. whiny gojo is my fav gojo idk

fem reader, established relationship, whiny gojo, referenced coming untouched, referenced vaginal sex, orgasm control, handjobs, light nipple play, reader and gojo r switches but reader is in control here :p

2.5k

MDNI

Gojo will never admit it out loud, but he loves being taken care of. 

Dropping his guard, relinquishing all control, letting his actions be guided by instruction instead of instinct. There’s something incredibly blissful about it; following instead of leading, putting trust in someone else to ensure his safety and in this case, his pleasure. 

It’s endearing really, but you couldn’t help but giggle when you came to that realization. Sure, having his hips meeting your ass as sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, or having your legs wrapped around his waist as his pelvis melded with yours was always nice—really great, but you noticed something after a while.

It was after the first time you rode him specifically. To say you are a fan of getting on top would be like saying you enjoy annoying emails from your supervisor or getting caught in a downpour of rain without an umbrella, but there are way worse things in the world. Plus, it's your boyfriend, of course you’ll ride until your knees scream and ultimately decide that enough is enough. 

As soon as you placed your hands on his defined chest, lining up your hole with his girthy cock, lowering yourself down and letting him stretch you out, the difference was staggering. The way his cock just seemed so much harder, pulsing inside of you every time you rolled your hips. The way his face flushed and screwed up in bliss, large hands reaching for any part of you that he could grab—your hip bones, your breasts, the tops of your thighs. And the sounds he made, nothing like the usual pants, grunts, and moans you were used to.

No, oh no. He whined, a strangled noise leaving his lips as you started a new motion of bouncing on his cock, praying to whatever higher power (you’d even make a shrine to Megan Thee Stallion if you had to) that your knees would last just a little bit longer to keep hearing that precious noise from his mouth. His hands ended up on your hips, his nails making crescent shaped grooves in your skin as whimpers left his lips, pleading for you to, just keep going because he’s so fucking close and he needs to cum deep inside your little pussy so bad.

That day, you truly understood the notion of pain overriding pleasure as you gave into his pleas, ignoring the burning and straining in your knees as you continued to impale yourself on his cock, his whimpers mixed with the sound of your heat enveloping him the only motivation to keep going. 

You’re always used to Gojo being so observant, polished, put together. A complete mastery of his body like you haven’t seen before. When he’s drilling into you’ve always let him take the lead, having no qualms with him extracting an orgasm from the deepest part of your core. 

It was as fascinating as it was arousing, seeing his flushed chest heave as warbles of fuck, God, th-that feels so fucking good, and milk me, please fucking milk my cock, left his mouth. The sting of his nails embedding into your skin was easily ignored as you bounced on him faster, your own heartbeat rising with a determination to bring him to the edge.

“C’mon,” you had coaxed, more so because your knees really seemed like they were ready to give out. “Be a good boy and come for me.” You could feel his cock twitching inside of you when those words left your mouth, so you kept going, his bliss taking precedence “Your cock’s so big, Toru, want more of you inside me. Come for me, come in me.” 

Being showered with praises wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Whether it was him calling you a good girl for taking every inch of his cock down your throat, or being told you were amazing for simply making dinner, the compliments would always make your stomach flip (or make your cunt clench, just depending on the circumstance). 

Of course you always showered Gojo with affection, telling him how handsome he is, admiring his strength, cheering on his intelligence, and his impressive disposition to excel at anything he so tries. You’ve always expressed just how amazing sleeping with him is, but you’d never paid him a compliment in this capacity before. 

Another choked moan left his lips as he pathetically thrusted his hips upward, eyes shut tight as he spilled into you. Sweat made a few icy strands of hair stick to his forehead as he came down from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm. Once those alluring eyes of his fluttered open, glazed over in post orgasmic bliss he uttered two words: Thank you. 

He enjoyed being a pillow princess, you surmised. Not that you’d ever utter those words to him, but you definitely were going to test your assumption.

Riding your boyfriend had to be one of the best methods of strength training available. Who needs to do squats and lift weights when Gojo’s whines, soft pants and whimpers were enough motivation to keep moving past any ache? Not you, that’s for sure.

Don’t get him wrong now, Gojo loves pounding you into the mattress, pulling every sound imaginable out of you, twisting and contorting your body in the way so he can plunge his cock as deep as it can possibly be, but this is nice—no, electrifying; Being commanded by your sultry voice, being used as you pleased, being the passenger instead of the driver.

So when you told him that you wanted to try something and all he had to do was sit down, relax, and listen, he was more than happy to oblige.

“Gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t you?” The words send a shiver of anticipation down Gojo’s spine and make every hair on his body stand on end as your lips brush against the shell of his ear. Goosebumps litter his skin at the simple action, the faint trace of rose petals infiltrating his nostrils. His heart races as you stand behind him, arms coming down on either side of his shoulders, grazing the firm muscles until your fingers are on his pecks. 

“I will be,” Gojo affirms, toes already curling as one of your fingers trace light circles around one of his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re going to be doing, but he doesn’t care. A soft whimper leaves his lips at the contact, mind already spinning in the same circular movement as your finger. 

“Oh, didn’t know you liked that.” A soft laugh leaves your lips when the peak stiffens as you continue stimulating it with light flicks and squeezes. You let your hand do the same with his other nipple, pinching it between your index finger and thumb. “You’re so sensitive here.” Not wanting to get distracted from what you actually have planned for him, you store that bit of information in a tab in your brain for later, removing both of your hands from the now hardened buds.

He says your name in a breathy tone, craning his neck to look at you, a pout on his pink lips and a pleading look in his eyes.

“We’ll have more of that later.” Flashing him a soft smile, you splay your free palm in front of his face. “Lick.”

He nods, letting his tongue licks a hot stripe over your palm. It’s as lascivious as when he’s licking at your folds or at your neck when he’s on top of you. So soft and supple under his tongue, and the sweet and salty taste of your skin makes a flame ignite in his abdomen. He’s already aching for your touch, desperate to please you. He can’t help but lick it again, savoring the taste of your skin. 

“Good boy.” The palm that’s dry trails down, brushing over the indents of muscles through his shirt, feeling his midsection quiver as you reach for the button on his jeans. His breath is audible as you undo them, reaching for the waistband of his boxer briefs and letting his cock spring free. “Don’t come until I say,” you instruct. 

There have been times when you’ve told him to come, and he always does on command like facial recognition unlocking one’s phone, but there have been some more… interesting moments. 

Like the time he came untouched after some mild (okay, it was actually extremely vigorous) dry humping, his whines filling your ears as you told him just how exquisite the stimulation was feeling on your clit. Or when after some teasing (though Gojo would argue that it was torment), he came after you languidly rolled your hips forward on his cock once. All you did then was crash your lips against his, pressing your plush chest closer to his chiseled one until he got hard again, your already slickened heat mixing with his cum to bring yourself and him to climax.

Honestly, you have no faith that he’ll be able to do this without fail. 

But that’s the fun part. 

“Okay,” he answers, nodding his head, honestly just hoping that he will be able to heed these directions. When it comes to you he’s incredibly weak, every touch of yours being so tantalizing. His cock’s been half erect since you and sat him down, twitching as it brushes against his abdomen. 

Wrapping your slick hand—courtesy of Gojo— around his cock is always a challenge. His girth isn’t comparable to anyone you’ve been with before. It took time getting used to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head the very first time you slept with him. The tips of your fingers barely even touch when he’s in your palm, but you give him a slow stroke, thumb running over the slit when you make your way back up to the tip. 

You repeat the action again, slowly pumping from the base of his shaft back up to the top until he’s completely hard in your hands, tip now angry and red. 

“More,” he breathes out, though it probably sounds more frantic than he intends. 

“Aw, feel good already?” He instantly throbs in your hand at your words. “That’s good, Toru, I’m glad you like that.”

Gojo can’t fathom how your hand feels even better than his. The size of your hands in comparison to his is like night and day, his being able to dwarf yours in size with complete ease, but he can’t help but hiss when your hand starts a steady rhythm. It’s slow and relaxed, not a single sense of urgency to be had.

Of course you’ve seen his cock plenty of times, but you’re more acquainted with having it somewhere inside you, skillfully reaching the deepest places that are the pressure points of pure pleasure. But now, as your hand glides down the length of his shaft, you feel every ridge and vein differently than before. 

The dire need of blood rushing to his cock makes every vein pulse against the palm of your hand, a needy drumming to the beat of his lust. He’s incredibly warm and stiff in your hand, and when you reach the base you squeeze tightly, feeling him throb erratically. Attention to detail is important, so incorporate cupping his balls in your routine as you stroke, just feeling the weight in your hand before continuing the flow of your earlier motions.

Unlike the calming and intricate movements of your hand, Gojo’s heart is beating at an accelerated rate, hips moving on their own to thrust into your hand. He raises his hips as your hand comes down to meet him at the base, and he can just imagine himself pumping into your tight heat, feeling your walls hugging his cock while you told him he was filling every single inch of you. 

“Haaa—ah,” Gojo pants, squeezing his eyes tight to stave off an already impending orgasm. Beads of precum begin to leak from the tip of his cock, and you only use it to further lubricate your activities. Using your thumb, you smear it across the tip hearing a croak leaving his lips as you do. 

“Oh, I think you just got a little harder,” you tease, leaning your head over his shoulder to release a hot trail of spit from your mouth, giving his cock even more slick. You keep the same slow and steady pace, watching the way the muscles in his thighs flex through his jeans as one of his legs begin to bounce restlessly. He really is trying his best to hold it, and you absolutely can commend him for that. “So big for me, Toru. Just hold it, ‘mkay?”

He doesn’t answer as you keep stroking him, teeth sinking so deep into his bottom lip that it may draw blood, fingers desperately gripping his knees as jolts of ecstasy make its way up his spine. He’s trying his best to think about anything else, but it’s impossible. The gentle praises in his ear, the heavenly feel of your hand on his cock—it’s too much. 

“Please,” he whimpers, stomach clenching, embers of unfiltered lust burning him from the inside out. Everything is hot, his cheeks, his chest, the blood pumping through veins, the very blood that’s making his cock the hardest it’s possibly been in your very palm. His hips buck forward again, but you make no motion to match his movements. “Baby, please.”

“What?” you answer, continuing your motions. He’s a bit of a mess in the chair, cock throbbing and oozing onto your hand. “Doing so good, Toru. Just hold it.”

His breaths grow shorter and his pants get louder as you keep stroking him, adjusting your grip as you continue gauging his reactions. When your hand finds one of his nipples again, squeezing the bud until it matches the stiffness of his cock, he lets out a groan, thrusting his hips with more vigor into your hand. “I’m so—just need to…”

“I didn’t say so yet,” you whisper in his ear, hand now starting to pick up the pace. Another trail of spit leaves your mouth, dribbling down onto his cock, allowing your hand to move even faster. He squirms as his hips continue meeting your hand, balls feeling tight with the need to release. “Just a little more, I know you can do it.”

He isn’t quite sure though. He’s actually not confident at all as his mind goes blank, cock twitching as he continues fucking up into your hand, your name and strings of moans leaving his lips. 

 And when you squeeze his cock at the base again, the band snaps. 

“Nngh,” he whimpers, cum spurting onto his shirt and all over your hand. 

“Oh, Toru,” you tsk, still pumping him through his orgasm, using his cum as even more lubricant as it oozes out. 

It’s a spine tingling, back arching, toe breaking, teeth clenching sensation—still being touched like this. Being over stimulated to hell and back. 

He says your name weakly, regaining his breath as his cock starts to soften in your hand.

It’s a good thing you had something planned for if this didn’t go as planned. 

But since you didn’t think he would actually do as instructed, you guessed it went actually how you wanted it to.

“I guess we’ll have to get the toy,” you whisper in his ear. “Hopefully you’ll be a good boy for me then.” 

#gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #gojo fanfic #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #ebs writes

[celesterayel]

the tragic heroes | percy jackson

pairing: percy Jackson ✩ ‧₊˚

IN WHICH — the tragic heroes and the tragedy that appeases the chaos.

The monster cackles in delight, its bulging eyes crinkling with glee and invoking disgust in all that have (and will) witness its countenance. Darkness hides all other pallors of rotting skin and luminously straining veins, slivers of shades of bruised blues and bloody reds clashing against the dark abyss of the room, that the monster has no use for as an entity of chaos.

Bells foil loudly in the distance, perturbing the distant silence of the castle with grating screeches only reaching the heights of noise as the pits of tartarus. It is a cacophony of choked laughter and perversive glee for the delicate steps that built the foundation for what is to come. And soon it shall!

The Fates have come knocking on the door of destiny and offered up to the beast the next great tragedy that shall put all the others to shame. A deal for judgement and devastation. The Fates have weaved through sorrows befitting the leagues of Icarus's falling and Achille's lost love, enthralling the vices of Aphrodite's cruel methods that end with aching lips and entranced poets--forever written into history. They have searched the sands of time and bid the eons of creation for this.

The monster lounges forward as if the visions in the water will disappear and greedily drinks forth the taste of cataclysmic devotion and the etchings of pain in the cosmos as the moonlight of the water provides the burning echoes from lips that shall taste the sweetest sin and ache for it in every other lifetime. What a lovely destruction this will be.

The monster pitches out, “It has begun, young little hero. Such pretty sorrows..."

The Fates have certainly outdone themselves. This story will be one for the ages to come and even after!

The walls haunch over and enclose the story in its grasp, keeping it their secret even if only just a bit longer. It reeks of desperation and devastation--the greatest ones always do.

Voices of the damned and lost screech out in laughter, the entity mocks in pity or sadness all the same: "Wretched Greek story doomed to repeat like it has every lifetime; the pour of ichor waning between reality and prophecies about to drip, drip, drip down the pages. Except in this one, it seems perhaps the gods made a mistake choosing you for him. He has no qualms choosing you over all else. I must say, I shall have fun watching the Earth burn and Olympus fall down--the chaos it shall bring...delightful! Blessing or curse we have yet to see! It seems I have a new tale to tell when the cursed half-bloods come crooning at my gates to weep. My, what marvelous tunes!”

The beast could taste the tears and heartache that slide right off this tale, so presently tasteful.

My, my what marvelous fortunes to come indeed.

The Savior of Olympus., Son of the Seas, Percy Jackson. The Survivor.

The Great One, Daughter of the Heavens, Callopeia Iris. The Tragedy.

"Finally a story for the gods below who ache for destruction and tragedy like it was made for them. They shall have a riot."

The Tragic Heroes.

✩ ‧₊˚ author note i was doing physics and calc hw and this came into my mind and now thinking of creating a full on fanfic on ao3 and wattpad based on the dialogue i wrote. i apologize for being so inactive and for the requests in my inbox. swear I have alot planned and written but classes are kicking me rn. i just needed to post this cuz i think it sounded really good :)

#luke castellan #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo series #percy jackson show #annabeth chase #luke x reader #luke pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fic writing #fan fiction #celesterayel

[vampyrsm]

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SEVEN | HACHIMAN

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale once again continues deep in the snowy plains, atop a mountain where power is unleashed and revelations are made. But how does this fair for you? Will you come out unscathed or will this awakening destroy who you are fundamentally?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.4k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. brief mention of cannibalism, set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, descriptions of wounds, threats of death, female reader, brief pov from Sukuna, reader knows how to fight, extensive fighting scene, cursed energy usage.

The blistering winds hadn’t eased up, instead, they continued to shake the shoji door and rattle the old wooden beams that held up the temple. It was no doubt a full-blown snowstorm at this point, something that was good for the man who was currently watching over a sleeping lamb in his bed.

Sukuna kept his silent promise to watch over you, and he himself kept just as silent the rest of the night. He busied himself with books and old scripture of Cursed Techniques from ages long gone… at least that’s what he attempted to do until he found his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

You. An unsuspecting lamb in the belly of a starving wolf. 

You. Who had weaselled her way into his life so easily that it was starting to piss him off.

Maybe it’d be easier if he did kill you. Eat you as he promised. But something painfully tugs in his chest at the thought, his face curling into a painful grimace. Was this a long-forgotten human emotion? It feels almost too close to guilt… how could a man who had no qualms about tearing women apart simply to feast on them feel guilt? It was an idiotic notion.

At some point he had abandoned his post on the cushion, to stretch his legs out properly he told himself. But instead, he found himself looming over you like some demonic creature of the night, he stares down at your sleeping form. You’re far too unguarded like this, he can see a slip of your collarbone and a brief glimpse of your chest if you were to twist anymore in your sleep.

Sukuna can’t deny that you weren’t an attractive woman. You most definitely were. Powerful too. He hadn’t met a woman who had fought him so valiantly, never mind someone who had nearly succeeded in killing him twice – and that was all without even using your cursed energy properly. You were an enigma to Sukuna, something he wanted to crack and understand. 

Most women crumbled to their knees in front of him out of fear, yet you stood so defiantly. Always with that head of yours raised so high and a look on your face that he knew would be befitting of a ruler. 

That makes him huff out a breath of annoyance, his eyes drifting away from where he was focused on your chest; on your heart. He catches a glimpse of your exposed hand, its palm up on the pillow next to your head and he admits now that perhaps he shouldn’t have let you fire off that much energy. It was reckless, and it had damaged your hand quite severely.

His fingers twitch at his side, he could heal it for you. Just like he did with your legs in the forest whilst you slept. You never mentioned it to him, so perhaps you again wouldn’t mention his unusual kindness if he were to clear away the blisters and burns that litter your delicate hand. 

But something was stopping him from reaching out to brush his fingers against the palm of your hand. You had to learn a lesson, what use would it be if you were to wake up without the consequences of your reckless actions? No. He would not heal you completely. Even if his long-corrupted heart twinges again with something painfully close to guilt. 

Instead, Sukuna finds himself kneeling next to the futon. None of his limbs touch the bed itself so as to not disturb you, and his upper arms work delicately to wrap your hand in white silk from a kimono he no longer wanted. The blood and plasma darken the pristine fabric in a yellow tinge, but he still takes care not to do it so recklessly. 

It reminds him of when he had to tend to his own wounds before he learned how to reverse his cursed energy to heal his own body. It had been a long time since Sukuna had done something so… human. It felt odd but in a strange cathartic way, it eased the strange twinge in his chest in lieu of a contentedness that settled there instead.

Once the silk had been secured around your wrist, Sukuna again found him in a situation where he was hesitating. He had never hesitated before in his life, he’d always been one to go with his gut instinct. But this time he finds his gut telling him that maybe he can watch over you from his kneeling position next to you, you wouldn’t notice he was even there, would you? 

You didn’t stir once when he had grown closer, nor did you so much twitch a muscle when he delicately moved your hand and wrist to ensure the silk material had tightly covered your wound. What did that mean exactly? Did it mean you were simply a fool to have your guard down around such a monstrous man? Most likely, Sukuna laments to himself. 

The fleeting thought that maybe you trusted him has Sukuna’s fingers curling into tight fists, claws digging into the meat of his palm and the pain jolts him back up to his feet. If you trusted him, then could that mean there was something… more? What if you felt that same twang in your lower stomach as he did when he gazed at you? 

His mind drifted without much warning to the hot spring, that was the first time he had been able to feel your body in its entirety. It was so much smaller than his, fleshier in parts that mattered. Where Sukuna was hardened muscle and reinforced skin, you were undeniably soft. You pooled so easily between his fingers, and when he pulled you so close that he could smell the sweat on your skin… he wanted to—

No. He would not give in to whatever human desires he may be experiencing the longer he looks at you. A human like you had no place occupying such a huge portion of his mind.

Sukuna finds himself skulking back to his darkened corner of the room, the flickering embers of the burning Irori pit are dying with each passing second. Soon the room would grow cold. Humans and their need to keep warm… with just a grumble to himself and a flick of his hand, the fire burns bright once again and Sukuna relaxes into the dim light. 

From here, he can read the scrolls in front of him littered with cursed techniques he wished to master… and he could also keep an eye on you.

Morning comes without much preamble, you wake to find that Sukuna had not given in to the temptation to join you in bed. In fact, he wasn’t in the room at all. The fire in the hearth was burning dangerously low and the winds still howled beyond the shoji doors. 

Should you venture out of the room to go and find breakfast? Or perhaps, even search for Sukuna first? You can’t imagine he’d be pleased with the idea of you meandering your way through his temple. But there was also no way for you to know just where he was, this place was gigantic. You could get lost, or worse, you could run into the unsavoury souls that wander the temple walls… if you could say they had souls at all.

You shuddered at the thought of the woman with the strange scar. You knew you should never show such weakness to a potential enemy but there was just something so off-putting about her, you’d never seen anyone so blatantly disrespectful to someone like Sukuna. No one even dared to do such a thing to the Emperor of Japan, and he was not a monster with four arms and a taste for young women's flesh.

No, maybe it would not be wise to wander the halls. You’ll have to wait, and hope, that Sukuna comes back — maybe with food. You glance around the room now that it’s bathed in daylight, the snow outside makes everything appear a bleak white but it helps you see the details you had failed to see in the dim firelight last night. 

There are numerous scrolls, as there were in the last bedroom Sukuna used, but they seemed to be different. They were individually wrapped with a strip of bright red silk, some even with a wax seal that had not been broken. Just what could Sukuna be hiding on parchments of paper? Your fingers itch to find out. 

Instead of the possibility of having your fingers removed for even pondering the thought of snooping through confidential scrolls, you glance to the other side of the room. There’s a storage chest, long as much as it were wide. Now, that was something much more interesting than paper. 

It could hold a multitude of things. Clothing, perhaps, or even better… weapons. It most definitely looked like a weapons chest. You leap up from the futon, half-heartedly tugging your haori that had fallen loose in the night to hide away your exposed skin.

The closer you grow with each step towards the chest, your excitement to find out what was inside of there grows tenfold. It reminds you of when your father had tried to hide away his prized Naginata, or even his katana, he never let anyone use it and hid it away instead of displaying it proudly.

His most powerful weapon, he said. 

You wonder if Sukuna has a powerful weapon like that. He did have that Naginata you used on the Samurai but it didn’t seem to be anything too special; simply a weapon made for a man as large as he was. 

Kneeling down in front of the chest, your fingers twitch as you approach the lip of the lid. Only then do you notice the fabric on your hand, it’s bound as if it were done by a nurse or at the very least, someone with some medical knowledge. Had Sukuna done this in your sleep? Why? Why would he help you?

The thought stumps you. The same bandaged hand brushes against the partially exposed skin of your calves, they too were healed completely — that must’ve been Sukuna’s doing also. You hadn’t questioned it at the time, you didn’t dare ask Sukuna if he had a hint of humanity left in him. 

Your legs are smooth of any blemishes, no scar that indicated you were attacked, he had healed them to be brand new. You knew he could heal, you’d seen it firsthand when you slashed his throat, but he could also extend that to people? What else could be done with cursed energy? You figured that it was all for fighting and violence, but maybe there was good too in the use of cursed energy.

“Snooping through my belongings like some Tanuki will get your fingers shoved down your throat.” 

Sukuna’s voice has you leaping from the floor, unceremoniously might you add, your knee bangs into the chest and you trip partially on your haori. You whip around to find him frowning at you fiercely from the doorway, in his hand is a tray that has a pot of tea most likely and then a bowl of rice. Oh, so he had gone to get food.

“I–... I was looking for clothes. A haori is not ideal for the cold.” You lie, it’s a lame lie but not entirely false either. A haori would do nothing to keep you warm.

Sukuna’s upper lip twitches with what must be him detecting your lie, but instead of making a rude comment about it, he turns away from you. He sets the wooden tray on a low table next to the Irori, the fire once again roaring to life with a snap of Sukuna’s fingers. You can only watch in silent awe at just how easily he was able to use cursed energy, something he wanted you to master.

“Sit,” he orders, not sitting himself and opting to meander to the opposite side of the room to a smaller chest next to the one you had been wanting to snoop through. 

You waste no time and scurry past him when he approaches, the amused chuckle that escapes his chest brings an unsuspecting heat to your cheeks. You’d rather not focus on whatever that was, and instead, you kneel beside the hearth, leaning over to hook the teapot over the fire to allow it to boil properly. 

As you sit back and wait for it to boil, something is dropped into your lap. Your hands move to grab at it before it tumbles into the pit of burning wood,. With just the feel of it, you can tell it’s a kimono. It’s a beautiful dark blue, embroidered with silver stitching. Immediately, your uninjured hand brushes delicately over the silky material. 

It was undoubtedly made of some of the highest quality silk you had ever seen in a long time, perhaps you had only ever seen something like this when the Princess would pay a visit.

Sukuna finds himself a seat next to the hearth, just to your right. He makes no move to comment on whether or not you like the kimono given to you, instead, he reaches over to the pot of boiling water to pour it for himself. It was oddly domestic, if that was a work applicable to a man like Sukuna. His four arms were mostly hidden beneath his own kimono, wide sleeves for easier movement you noted.

His own kimono was of similar material to the one in your hands, if not the same. His, however, was a light shade of blue with a black edge, accompanied by a black scarf and you noticed he was even wearing socks. Ah. So Master Sukuna did in fact get cold. 

“Stare any longer and I’ll assume you no longer want the kimono.”

Your eyes immediately snap to his own at the sound of his voice, it’s not quite as loud as it could be, rather it was muted like he was too tired to put in the effort. He also doesn’t look particularly annoyed that you were inspecting his outfit, he’s far too busy eating rice with chopsticks that look more like tiny twigs between his fingers. 

Domestic. 

That word again has you moving, gathering the kimono in your hands to go and change behind one of the folding screens you spied earlier. You peel off the haori Sukuna had gifted you, and instead slip into the kimono. It’s baggy on the arms, large sleeves just like his own and you’d think it was his kimono if it weren’t for the fact it wasn’t too long on your legs. 

It’d been a while since you wore a traditional kimono. The traditional shrine-maiden clothing Sukuna had forced you into for a while became second nature to wear. But a kimono was all smooth edges and elegance, it almost felt wrong to wear it. Your hands smooth along the obi belt at your waist, and if it weren’t for your years as the Shogun’s daughter, you might’ve struggled to tie it on your own.

Re-emerging from behind the folded screen, you find Sukuna is still in the same place as he previously was but has traded out his rice bowl with a large cup of boiled tea. His lower set of eyes are partially closed, relaxed, and his upper ones flick up to you when you take careful steps towards him at the Irori. 

You fold your legs and feet beneath you, sitting on your calves and you try to not stare back at him. You can feel that burning crimson gaze roaming down along the exposed portion of your neck, along your hands when you reach out to take the ladle from the teapot to pour your own tea. 

Even despite the look Sukuna is giving you, the traditional kimono and serving of tea gives you a sense of familiarity; it feels like when you were at home. You often sat around an Irori with your father as a child, he told you stories of his battles and you would tell him of your book learning.

The memory tugs your lips into a faint smile, you missed when it was as simple as telling your father you were learning from a book that day instead of learning how to thread a needle. He had always allowed you to do what you wanted, you weren’t the ‘traditional’ girl people expected to come from the Shogun but you were a warrior. You wanted to live and strived to learn more. 

Sukuna continues to stare and say nothing, not until he hands you a small bowl packed with rice and chopsticks laid atop. You take it in both your hands, and as if on autopilot you bow your head in deep thanks. Sukuna’s hands freeze midway returning to his lap, and you remain awkwardly staring down at the rice in your hands. 

Blinking slowly out of your stupor, or perhaps it was mortification that you showed a monster like Sukuna any sort of respect. You say nothing after that, choosing to keep silent instead of coaxing Sukuna into mocking you for using such a traditional method of thanking him — like you would thank a husband. 

The rice is still hot against your tongue, perfectly cooked and you wonder if Sukuna had cooked it. You didn’t see any women around here during your brief walk through the temple unless they were stowed away in the darkest corner of the temple, and you doubted the black-haired lady would cook for anyone. 

You risk a glance towards Sukuna, and he seems to be preoccupied with leaning his chin against one fist with all of his eyes closed. It gives you a quick chance to look over his relaxed features, you couldn’t deny that he was most definitely a handsome man. You figured he might’ve been quite the catch before he had modified his body — though, a sneaky part of you thinks that it only adds to his image. 

Before Sukuna can scold you for looking at him again, you lower your now empty rice bowl to the tray and look at what else he had brought you. A slice of crown melon and a tangerine, both of them look beautiful. Ripe. You reach for both the slice of melon and the tangerine, the crown melon looks like it was recently harvested. Its brilliant yellow inside was juicy, seedless too you noted – did Sukuna take care to remove the seeds?

A glance at the tangerine, and you do something you could’ve never imagined yourself doing.

“Master Sukuna?” you speak into the quietness of the room, immediately Sukuna’s eyes open to look down at you. You swallow the lump in your throat before offering up your palm for him, your fingers uncurling from around the tangerine. 

“You should eat it.” He says to your offering, but he doesn’t outright refuse as he continues to stare at you. 

“I find fruit is more enjoyable to eat whilst in the company of others.” 

His face screws up for half a second, like he couldn’t quite understand the idea of enjoying something as trivial as another person’s company. And yet, he takes the tangerine from your hand with care. His claws are careful to not pierce the peel and instead used to slowly open the soft outer shell to get to the fruit itself.

“Thank you,” you smile when he snaps his eyes back to you, a squinty look to them as if he’s trying to figure out what you were up to. 

You turn your attention away from the man and instead to the melon slice in your hand. It was rare to see a crown melon at any time of the year, they were exceptionally hard to come by and even more expensive to buy. They were a gift meant for royalty, for the Emperor. 

It warmed a part of your chest to know that Sukuna had been generous enough to offer you a slice of such a delicacy. You had only hoped he saw your tangerine offering in a similar light, it was something your father had taught you when you were a child. 

To offer someone a tangerine was to show gratitude and appreciation. 

You wouldn’t outright thank him for healing your legs, nor would you thank him for wrapping your hand with care. Instead, you would show him your gratitude in hopes he would see that you weren’t ungrateful for his efforts.

It’s not until after the both of you had eaten your respective fruits and are warmed by the lit fire that Sukuna finally decides to speak. 

“I decided to give you one more chance.” Your eyes quickly shift to look at his own, he’s already watching you with narrowed eyes. “I should’ve killed you yesterday for your insolence. However, I will allow it, just this once.”

You swallow the pit forming in your throat, “But?”

His face cracks into a grin that you’ve sadly become accustomed to. “But if you fail again. I will skin you alive before I decide to take pity on you and eat what’s left.” 

“When do we start?” You ask instead of dwelling on the notion of him carving you apart like you were a deer.

“Hm, today. Let's go.” 

You blanche when he’s suddenly standing up, brushing down the front of his own kimono and making no move to help you up from your kneeling position. He wanted to train today? But your hand was still injured, surely that would be detrimental to your learning—

“Now. Do not make me ask you again.” 

You push yourself up from the floor, your kimono felt too rigid to do anything properly in. How did he expect you to be able to train in something like this? Was he setting you up for failure because he wanted to finally get rid of you? That theory was becoming more and more likely by the second. 

Sukuna leads you through the door you had entered last night after the bath in the hot spring, it’s blindingly bright outside with the coat of white that paints the entire courtyard. Instead of going towards the hot spring, he walks along the wooden engawa; a porch that lined the outside portion of the temple it would seem. 

Your mind runs far too quickly for you to comprehend, what did lessons with Sukuna actually entail? He was a brutal fighter, an even more violent curse user, his lessons were most likely going to be a fight between life and death. He wanted you strong, he said, and he wasn’t going to do a sloppy job of achieving that either. 

The binding vow would ensure that much. He wasn’t going to fail his end of the deal and you were hoping to not fail your end.

Eventually, Sukuna leads you away from the main building of the temple, along a snow-covered stone set of stairs that lead downwards towards a gigantic red tree. Its leaves are a violently stark difference in colour, like blood splatter on snow, it’s impossible to look away from. You wonder how it’s even surviving so far into the mountains with nothing but a cold climate.

The area that Sukuna has led to you is like a round arena, with individual statues that might’ve once resembled Jizo Bosatsu statues — except they were all beheaded. A clear sign that Sukuna did not appreciate their ‘protection’. 

Leaves crunch beneath your feet until you both come to a standstill, the wind no longer howls in the air and it’s unnervingly silent. It feels like you’ve been plunged into another world, a world with just you, Sukuna and the red maple tree overhead that continues to shed its red coat.

“Do you remember what I said about control?” Sukuna asks, his head tilted up to look at the large tree.

You follow his gaze for a moment, recalling the moments leading up to the large explosion of energy. “That I should learn to spread it throughout my body, to delay the flow of cursed energy.” 

“Good.” Sukuna meanders his way to the other side of the large circle-shaped arena, finally turning to face you with a bored look on his face. “Now do it, and try to hit me.”

The look you give Sukuna is nothing short of incredulous, he expected you to not only figure out how to control your cursed energy properly but also land a hit on him? Whilst wearing a kimono? He was ridiculous, idiotic, and he dared to call you a fool. 

“What’s that look for? You got something on the tip of your tongue? Don’t hold back your poison now.” 

“I think you want me to fail.” You spit back, and Sukuna has the gaul to crack a grin at the fact you listened to him. 

Sukuna then clicks his tongue, staring down the bridge of his nose at you in a half-sneer. “You’re ridiculous. Already throwing a tantrum like an infant child, look at you. Pathetic.”

It’s instantaneous, the rage that consumes you whole. It burns deep in your chest before it flares up into your throat, bubbles your blood to absolute boiling point. Sukuna laughs loudly at your inner turmoil, a mocking type of laugh that does absolutely nothing to quell the red-tint that hypothetically washes over your vision.

You move much faster than you anticipated, even in your restrictive clothes, and Sukuna raises his eyebrows at how quickly you appear before him. But he doesn’t stop laughing, snickering when you draw back an arm to throw your fist at him. His multiple arms make it much easier for him to bat away your attempts of punching him directly.

“Channel it. Control it.” Sukuna comments after he smacks away another oncoming punch before slamming his lower left fist directly into your stomach. It has you thrown across the arena in a flurry of disturbed white snow, the ground crumbles beneath you from just how much force he put behind that single punch.

The air you swallow greedily burns at your lungs, your chest expanding painfully. He most definitely broke something, or ruptured some sort of organ. Maybe you’ll bleed out before you figure out a way to control your energy. 

“Aw, is that it? That's all you can handle? What happened to the Samurai who nearly cut my head off? Who nearly removed my heart?” 

“Give me a weapon and I’ll make sure your shoulders are free of that gigantic ego you carry around.” 

Sukuna’s face practically splits in half with the joy that overtakes him, a sick bloodlust type of joy that has his fingers flexing their long claws. “Oh.. there she is. How about this? You land a single hit on me and I’ll give you a weapon.” 

“Fine.” You accept his terms as you get up from the floor, you weren’t entirely useless without a blade per se, but you definitely preferred to have a weapon of some sort over bare fists. Though, that’s not to say you weren’t trained in hand-to-hand combat either. 

That was something your father had allowed before you were granted permission to wield a weapon. Kiso had been your instructor then too, a man double your size in every way had thrown you around the dojo as if you were nothing but a grain of rice. But it helped, it taught you valuable lessons if you were to be disarmed in battle.

Now was a great time to see if it would work out for you.

Control it, Sukuna said, control your cursed energy. Delay it’s spread throughout your body, don’t focus it into one area. Spread it evenly, calmly, and then you will be in total control. Your shoulders ease themselves from the hiked up position by your ears, you attempt to broaden your stance but the kimono restricts your legs once again.

In a moment of impulsivity, you lean down to the rip that had started to form from when Sukuna had launched you with a single punch. The aforementioned man watches in amusement when you dig your fingers into the hole and rip the material apart until the skin up to your mid thigh is exposed. 

“How impolite.” Sukuna laments, but it doesn’t sound like he’s upset by the fact you ripped such an expensive kimono. You choose to remain silent, shifting your feet just so to drop your body into a traditional ninjutsu stance. One arm close by your side, with your fist curled tightly and the other arm at a similar level to the other is pushed in front of your body. 

“Oh? So the dove does know how to fight. How amusing.” Sukuna drops into a similar stance to your own, albeit he looks much more intimidating with an extra set of arms. “I won’t hold back this time.”

“Neither will I.” 

Again, it is you who moves first. You ‘focus’ your cursed energy like Sukuna had told you to into your feet, the snow beneath you spirals upwards in a manmade gust of wind to fill the space you once occupied. Your body twists in the air, and you find yourself behind Sukuna with one leg extended out to deliver a swift kick to the side of his head.

It’s no surprise that one of his arms darts up to block the hit with his forearm, but even he could feel the amount of force you threw behind that kick. He lets out a low laugh to himself, ah, how long had it been again since someone dared to challenge him like this?

Sukuna’s body turns, his own leg coming up and around to deliver his own kick but you’re quick enough to push your body out of the way. The two of you separate, Sukuna now in the spot where you had initially started. With no more witty comments on his tongue, he decides the game has truly started and launches the next attack.

He’s across the empty space in the blink of an eye, one of his arms is drawn back and he strikes with no mercy. With a shift of your cursed energy, you redirect it into your forearm and deflect his punch enough to open up his chest to you. However, Sukuna immediately goes for another strike. 

The arm you had blocked withdraws in exchange for his arm on the opposite side to strike you in a similar punch, and it’s much easier now that you realise just how easy it is to shift your cursed energy about once you concentrate on it. Your forearm again blocks his punch, and Sukuna grins.

His body twists again, agile for a man of his stature, one long leg darts up in hopes of returning the kick you nearly hit him with earlier. But your body moves in tandem with his own, an easy arch of your back has you leaning out of the way. 

Sukuna moves far too fluidly as if his body was nothing but water, another kick and another dodge from you has your body retreating just slightly. He presses the attacks, keeping up the pressure to ensure it’s you who loses the fight. The air hisses around his fist with how quickly he’s throwing them at you, and each time you manage to move out of the way. 

“You do remember the terms of the agreement, correct? You can’t dodge forever.” He grits his teeth, snarling when another fist gets batted away by your own forearm. 

“I remember.” In the midst of his rising anger at how he’s being easily evaded, you twist on your foot and bring up your left leg in hopes of hitting him in the side. One arm raises effortlessly, a slap of skin on skin at just how much force was put behind it. 

Your next few moves come in quick succession, a series of kicks and punches that Kiso had shown you as a child. They weren’t as brutal as they are now, Sukuna can only defend himself with his bare forearms when you repeatedly attempt to strike him over the head with either your foot or fist. 

You find yourself once again across the small arena from Sukuna. The snow that had once littered the ground is nowhere to be seen from the amount of force and energy that had been thrown around between the two of you. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he falters for just a second at the grin that rests on your face.

It’s wide, not quite as manic as his own but it’s a grin nonetheless. You’re enjoying yourself. 

It pisses Sukuna off.

He vanishes practically into thin air with how quickly he darts towards you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your stomach fills with untimely dread. He was going for the kill. There was no doubt about that. You blink, just as he appears in front of you, and you watch the snowflakes that fall around him in slow motion.

Even he was moving much slower than you anticipated, two of his arms are slowly drawing back and you swear you can see the darkened energy that starts to form around both of his fists in a furious fire-like image. You had to either move or block it, if you moved you were left in the open but if you managed to block it… you can throw him off guard.

Your arms come up to cross over each other in front of your chest and face, the air shifts again and time falls back into motion. The two fists coated in energy collide with your forearms hard enough to have you sliding back several paces, but you were unscathed. Relatively. Your arms weren’t broken, and when you look up to Sukuna… his eyes are wide. 

“There it is.” He smiles with sharpened fangs, as if he had been waiting for this to happen all along. “Now we can begin.”

The air feels immensely different. A shift had happened between the two of you, was it because you blocked his attack or was it because you moved much faster than Sukuna could see? Either way, you knew what he meant by the fight now beginning – everything before was just a warmup. 

It’s your turn to dash forward, your cursed energy ebbs and flows throughout your body and before Sukuna can blink you’re in front of him. A palm extends outwards and it lands flat against his chest, but there is no slap of skin. Instead there’s a resounding boom, a sound that disturbs the tree above you into shaking free some leaves and the mountains that surround you rumble with the threat of an avalanche. 

Both of you are too enthralled by the fight to realise that you have already won.

His retaliation comes instantly, a curled fist coated in that viscous black energy that you’ve come to recognise as Sukuna’s. You catch it in the flat of your free palm, and there’s another deafening boom followed by the whistling of wind from two unstoppable forces colliding. 

The wind cuts at the ground, fissures forming in the stone that look something like slash marks. Sukuna’s four eyes are wide in a mixture of amazement and bloodlust, he seems truly enticed by the fight that had unfolded. 

Those punches and deflects came repeatedly, each of them met with a resistance of equally matched energy. It was baffling to both yourself and Sukuna at just how easily you had managed to get a handle of your cursed energy but then to also match it to his own to successfully defend hits that would surely kill if you were anyone else. 

Your ankle meets his own when you both twist to deliver a high kick, the mountains once again rumble with their deathly threat of raining down the snow that had settled atop their caps. Without a doubt, anyone within the vicinity of the temple could too feel the vicious vibrations and force that was coming from the attacks.

Once again, the two of you are at the opposite ends of the now partially destroyed arena. Again the air shifts and this time you’re ready for it, Sukuna’s stance shifts to a similar one that he had adopted at the start of the fight but this time you’re able to see his entire body is set alight in a black aura that shrouds him like a cloak of death.

He was going to throw all of his cursed energy at you to see if you could withstand even that.

You had only one choice. You try to mimic it, your own energy bubbles at the surface of your skin before it hisses against the cold midwinter air. Sukuna seems delighted at the display, his features seeming more demonic with the darkness that shrouds him. 

“Fascinating.” He muses from his position across the yard, still holding his stance as he watches your cursed energy build and build until you too have a similar aura that shrouds you completely. Where his energy is pure black, yours is a deep shade of crimson red. It laps at your skin, coating you until you feel the pressure of it wrapped tightly around your body.

The both of you move at the exact same time, like a spring ready to launch. There’s a brief moment as you’re advancing on Sukuna where you think that this clash of energy will result in death, that what he was about to hit you with would collide with your own with a deadly backlash no doubt. 

But there is no time to ponder if this was a mistake. Your fist meets his own, and the boom that follows is much different this time. It’s more of an explosion than anything, your energy smashes into his with such velocity that they mingle momentarily, tugging you closer and closer to Sukuna—to the source of all his cursed energy, before it repels the both of you back from each other. 

Your body is flung much too fast to stop it from happening, you hit solid rock and feel it cave in around your body. The energy you had coated yourself in dissipates slowly, seeping back into your battered and bruised body as you lay in the you-sized hole in the side of the mountain.

You were alive, however, you could tell that much. Even if your ribs felt like they were puncturing your lungs, and the back of your skull stung something fierce — you were alive. Your vision is tinted red as you stare up at the sky above you from your resting place, the snow continues to fall in thick flurries to only melt into your heated skin. 

Alive but at what cost? Your entire body felt like it was completely empty, drained of all it was worth, your bones felt like rubber and your heart was beating so languidly in your chest. 

“And you dare to tell me you needed a weapon to wound me.” A voice speaks from the rim of the crater, Sukuna stands there looking down at you — you expect him to be sneering, mocking you for being thrown so harshly but it seems he’s in no better shape.

His skin is bruised, blood sullying his once pristine skin and the slash marks that litter his skin are deep enough that you think you can see the muscle. The kimono he was fighting in is in a similar state of disarray to your own, it’s ripped completely from his upper body. The remnants of it lay hanging loosely at his waist. 

You don’t fight him when he reaches down for you, large hands grabbing at your waist and your shoulders to drag you to safety. You stand just mere centimetres from him, the smell of blood sticks to your tongue with each deep inhale you force your body to take.

One of those large hands supporting you comes up to cup your chin, tilting your head up so you can get a good look at him. One of his lower eyes looks like a blood vessel had popped, there’s a cut on his bottom lip and yet he still has that all-knowing grin on his face.

“I’m going to make you unstoppable.” He confesses so closely to your face, his warm breath brushes against your own in an open invitation. “No one will ever be able to stop you when the time comes.”

You want to ask what he means by that, but your brain is fuzzy with how hard you had hit it against the mountain. Sukuna seems to take note of the distant look in your eye, the blood that continues to build in the waterline before it overflows to roll down your cheek. 

A large hand moves to cup the back of your head, thick fingers looping through your dishevelled hair until you feel the warmth of his fingertips against your scalp. A soothing warmth washes across the back of your head, curling gently beneath the skin of your face and along the bridge of your nose. 

“You did well.” Sukuna praises unexpectedly, his voice lowered as he continued to let his energy seep into the back of your head to help ease whatever pain was bothering you. “You certainly bypassed my expectations.” 

Slowly you bring your lips up into a smile, and you watch how his eyes dart down to watch your lips carefully. “I imagine… I’m also the only person alive to say I beat Ryoumen Sukuna in a fight.”

You feel the hitch of his breath in his throat before it’s replaced with a huff of laughter, “For once, you’re right.”

He doesn’t budge when you half-heartedly push at his chest to get him away after his sly attempt to get under your skin again. Instead he jostles you in his arms until you’re pressed much too close to him, his forehead is against your own and his fingers curl a little more aggressively against your head.

The energy he continues to pour into you and your wounds is exhausting to try and endure, it feels like it’s weighing you down the longer you stand there and let it happen. Is this why he did it previously when you were asleep? 

Sukuna keeps his eyes closed as he embraces you into his own body, and you want to know what he’s thinking. What he could possibly be plotting for the future. 

“Did you feel it?” He eventually fills the silence, leaning back just enough to look you directly in the eye whilst still holding you pinned to his exposed chest. “When we clashed, did you feel it?”

“I… I felt like I was being pulled into you.” You recall the feeling, it felt like the very core of your cursed energy was being pulled aggressively towards his, as if he had his own gravitational pull. He nods his head, lips parting as if he were about to agree with you but instead his face twists into a scowl.

He leans away from you, the warmth of his energy disappears from the back of your head as does the warmth of his body when he lets go. “Go back to the temple. Stay in the room, if I find you left it, I’ll ensure you never hold a weapon again.”

And just like that, he’s marching away from you. His energy darkening around him with each step further and further he takes from you, and all it does is leave you feeling rather empty and alone in the aftermath of that training lesson. 

The snow settles against the top of your head, against your exposed skin that’s no longer bleeding nor bruised. He had healed you completely, but then ripped himself away from you after he attempted to open up. It twinges painfully in your chest when you think of the momentary hurt that filled your gut when he flipped the switch on his personality.

Did he not mean to compliment how well you did? Did he not mean to heal you and allow his body close to your own? Sukuna didn’t seem like a man who would hold himself back and yet, he did just then.

Despite the predictable threat from Sukuna, you turn away from the steps he had just transcended and instead look across the expanse of mountains and trees just beyond the temple walls. The clouds are low, just covering the sun from coating you in its warmth directly. It’s tranquil. The aftermath of the battle was no doubt contributing to this but there was something else — deep inside of you.

Something felt very different. Something had awoken amidst your fight with Sukuna and you’re unsure if it’s for better or for worse.

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #banner artwork is official game art for ghost of tsushima made by ian jun wei chiew

[lexsssu]

Milk Shake (Dante)

TAGS: Dante/F!reader, lactation kink, pregnancy, smut, drabble Ao3 ver.

“Now ain’t this the freshest, creamiest milk in town? And there’s so much of it too...You’re really spoiling me here, sweetheart~”

“D-Dante…! Don’t say such embarrassing things!!!”

“What’s so embarrassing about the truth? This really is the best damn milkshake I’ve ever had and it’s all for me~”

“...Need I remind you that this milk is supposed to be for your son who is yet to be born?”

“That’s the keyword, darling. He’s ‘yet’ to be born, so that means all this creamy milk is for Daddy in the meantime.”

You have no further words to refute his statement, opting instead to just bite your lower lip and look away in embarrassment. Seeing the attractive flush on your cheeks, a smirk crawls its way onto the handsome devil’s chiseled face, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he buries himself into the ample softness of your breasts.

Seated on his lap while he lounged on his favorite office chair at the shop, Dante is sure that this is what heaven feels like as his senses are saturated with the softness of your scent and buried in the plush and smooth texture of your flesh as your body prepares itself for motherhood. The pheromones your draconic body exuded has his own inhuman instincts running in full overdrive, cock straining against the leather of his pants and yet what he wanted more than anything at the moment is to suckle on your puffy nipples and drink up the nourishing milk you’re currently producing for your child.

With your arms wrapped around his neck and your full, leaking tits in his face, is there any good reason he shouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of drinking from you? The dark wet spots that stain the fabric of one of his shirts which barely fit you now thanks to just how much your breasts filled out has him salivating. There is a subtle change to your scent ever since the day his seed had taken root inside your womb, a change that is very much welcomed as you grow softer and more fragrant in his arms with each passing day.

It only makes his inner devil hunger for your taste even more than it already does.

“Thank you for the food”

Dante doesn’t forget to mutter a quick thanks before he lifts the hem of the shirt upwards, your bountiful bosom seeming to jump and jiggle as they are freed from their prison. A pale white wetness stains the tips of your globes, a sight that makes his loins grow and harden especially as your aroma directly hits his sensitive nose.

Sorry kid, but your old man’s gonna be taking the first sip.

Though with how enthusiastically the half-devil suckles at your full teats, hand kneading the unattended one, it’s obvious to you that your husband certainly has no qualms about taking the milk intended for his child.

You could only silently sit on his lap, core moistening as he gyrates his hips every now and then to rub the tent in his pants while he drank from you like you were an all-you-can-drink milk bar.

Despite how shameless he can be, there’s no denying the warmth that overflows in your eyes as your hands idly play with his hair.

#lexsssu writes #devil may cry #dmc #dante x reader #dmc dante x reader #devil may cry dante x reader #dante x you #dante x y/n #dmc x reader #devil may cry x reader #crossposted on ao3 #dmc smut #devil may cry smut

[inexplicifics]

💛 or 💙 pretty please, Oh great Inex!

“Geralt!” Jaskier cries delightedly.

Geralt hesitates in the doorway. Jaskier is clearly drunk - not so drunk as to be falling over his own feet, but well past tipsy - and so are the others at his table. Geralt has faced selkiemores and leshens and nightwraiths without a qualm, but drunk bards give him pause.

Unfortunately it seems to be too late to perform a strategic retreat, so he girds his loins and heads for the bards.

There isn’t a chair available - the tavern is very crowded, enough that he has to squeeze his way through the crowd, which rather bafflingly does not give way around him the way people usually do for a large and well-armed man in armor, even leaving aside the whole ‘witcher’ thing - but Jaskier gets up at once and gestures grandly for Geralt to take his seat, almost knocking the hat off of a man at the next table. Geralt sits down before Jaskier can become even more effusive in his gesticulating. Jaskier, naturally, sits on his lap.

Jaskier likes to dress and act like he is a waifish and delicate man, but in point of fact he’s six feet tall and astonishingly sturdy, and Geralt grunts a little as Jaskier’s full weight lands on his legs.

“Oh, shush, darling,” Jaskier says cheerfully, and -

Well, Geralt assumes the bard means to plant a messy kiss against Geralt’s cheek, that being something Jaskier has done before while in his cups, but Geralt has turned his head to try to say something to a harried barmaid as she goes by and Jaskier is drunk enough to be clumsy and -

Well. It’s not a great kiss, all things considered, being rather sloppy and off-center, but it is most definitely Jaskier’s lips on Geralt’s.

“Huh,” Jaskier says, pulling back and blinking at Geralt as the other bards catcall and whoop. “You taste like mint.”

“I was at the bathhouse,” Geralt points out. They had mint to chew in addition to the usual array of soaps and oils, and Geralt does like feeling clean when the option is available.

“Yes! Your hair’s all shiny and cleeeean,” Jaskier coos, running his fingers through Geralt’s unbound hair gleefully. “Look! Isn’t it lovely? Like moonlight on snow!”

All the other bards nod and giggle, because becoming a bard apparently means that you’re incapable of calling white hair white like any sensible person.

“That wasn’t a very good kiss,” Jaskier informs Geralt solemnly. “I’ll do better next time.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and hums dubiously. Jaskier bops a finger against his nose. “Don’t you ‘hm’ at me! I will, you’ll see.”

“Like you did with Demyan, last midwinter?” one of the other bards asks with a sly smile, and Jaskier turns to expostulate at her indignantly.

Geralt rolls his eyes and winds an arm around Jaskier’s waist to make sure his bard doesn’t fall entirely off his lap. Jaskier will have forgotten all about this by tomorrow morning.

(Jaskier doesn’t forget.)

(Or here on AO3!)

#questions answered #heart asks #snippet #ask meme #geraskier

[syrma-sensei]

→ A Lioness's Home.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: domestic fluff.

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: this is a sequel to my "a true victory" and "a dragon's glory". however, you need not to read the prequels, but it's preferable, though. the events of this fic take place during the ten-years time jump, but the plot doesn't necessarily follow the canon agendas.

masterlist | AO3

WITH WEALTH, DRAGONS, AND VALYRIAN BLOOD, you and your family found a fine living in Lys. And perhaps more than just fine living. Daemon and you are called the prince and princess of Lys; an honorary title given by the Lyseni people after the triumphant war led by your husband against Myr and Tyrosh over the Disputed Lands.

While Daemon was claiming yet another glory winning a war, you were claiming your own by preserving the free city's economy in maintaining the integrity of the trading path between Lys and Lannisport.

Lord Jason Lannister was more than thrilled and willing to help his sweet sister, and Ser Tyland couldn't be happier that their sister did not forget about her two lion brothers who love her immensely. Furthermore, Lord Tyland saw that in helping you, thus your husband, to ascend to power in foreign lands, it would push the dangers of the newly-reformed Triarchy away. The pirates of the Triarchy, as it seemed, did not wish to yield yet even after their gruesome loss in Stepstones at the hands of your husband and House Velaryon several years ago. Securing power in Lys would prevent the pirates to rise again, as your small family already owns three dragons, and the Lyseni people's favour.

When you were in your sixth month of pregnancy, with a very large bump in your belly, Daemon took you to the dragonpit to choose a dragon egg for your child together. You chose that special moment to tell Daemon, sheepishly, that he needed to pick two eggs and not only one. Your husband arched an eyebrow, letting the new information sink, then a wide and satisfied grin adorned his handsome face.

You suspected it during your fifth month, and the maester confirmed your qualms when he visited you for your monthly check-ups. You asked him not to speak to your husband of the matter, for you wanted to share the happy news with him in private and on distinctive occasion.

Taelon was the first to be born, his birth was easy, coming out without much fuss. Daenesya, however, was the one hard to deliver; your battle in labour continued for several hours before you finally heard her screams for air. Daemon never left your side during the whole process, encouraging you while you cried and screamed through insufferable pain. He dried your sweat and whipped your tears away from your face, reminding you that you're his fierce lioness and you could do it, while the Septas around you told you to hold your breath and push.

“Well done, my brave girl,” Daemon said proudly while holding both babies in his strong arms. “Well done.”

Daemon was true to his words and when your children's first name day came, the four of you took residence in Lys, where you were welcomed and treated with great hospitality.

Taelon and Daenesya are the epitome of exact opposites. Upon the first look, one would immediately say that your twin children are the mirror of one another; silver-gold long hair, and their eyes are amethyst flecked with emerald. However, one is quiet, calm, and leisure, and the other is unruly, chaotic, and headstrong. But both are of dragons and lions in spirit.

Your son's egg hatched after two years of his birth and gave him his precious Darkfyre. A beautiful dragon, with navy blue scales tinted by light cyan frames. His burning flames are of blue colour. Daenesya, on the other hand, her egg hatched after a year of her birth, and she was gifted her best friend Aeksyas. She's larger and wilder than Darkfyre. She has silver scales and golden eyes, and her flames are dark red. Daemon explained to you that dragons take after their riders, and you see it with your own eyes.

“Dracarys!”

Red and blue fire weave together, and from the purple flames Daemon emerges from while mounting Caraxes. A cheered applause acclaims from around you as your husband and children give them a dragon show. Among the spectators, you're the loudest and rowdiest; a proud wife and mother, watching her family proudly showing off the discrete dragonblood they have.

It's true that the people of Lys have the reminiscent of Valyrian blood, but the Targaryens are the only ones who are capable of taming dragons to their will in the Known World.

Nevertheless, your eyes are a tad more focused on your husband more the children. Daemon never ceases to mesmerize you with his riding skills, and the correspondence he has with Caraxes. The two share something really special, and you're never tired of watching over and over again. There were some times when you, eagerly, mounted Caraxes with Daemon for a ride. It was such a thrilling experience you don't mind to try it again. But in such occasions, you let the Targaryens do their thing while you stand their with charmed audience.

After a while of strutting their talent in the sky, the trio, led by Daemon, take their land on the ground. Everyone clapps for them, including you, before the three usher their mounts to the caves they've turned it into their own Dragonpit.

“Daemon, darling,” You say when the latter emerges from the cave pit, “You were marvelous up there,”

Daemon encircles an arm around your waist, pecking you lips. He smells of dragon and fire.

“Did you see Darkfyre's flames, mother!” Taelon gushes from behind, his face is slightly smudged by dirt and soot.

“Oh, I did, and they were magical, my cub!” You crouch a bit to whip his face with your handkerchief.

“Mother, did you see how pretty Aeksyas's wings are?!” Daenesya shrieks as she takes her father's side, clinging to his arm.

You chuckle amusedly, “She's the most beautiful dragon I've ever seen, my sweet.”

The four of you head to the carriage that's waiting for you to go home.

•••

After the three of them washed the dragon stench off of them, the four of you had supper. Then came Valyrian class for Taelon and Daenesya. The twins reluctantly escorted the maester to the library. And the two of you are left alone.

“Caraxes would be always my favourite dragon.” You whisper your secret to your husband as you reach the roof of your palace. It's where you and your husband spend some quality time together away from everyone's eyes. You sit on the padded floor, with your husband's head in your lap.

Daemon guffaws, “That would break Dani's heart; she thinks Aeksyas is your favourite, and she brags about it before Taelon.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, “Wonder where did she get that idea from?”

Your husband smiles privately and leaves you with no answer, but you know him better. Daenesya is his favourite, and you can see why, she's practically the little version of himself.

You stroke his face gently, “I was thinking, husband,”

“What is it, my love?” He drawls as he relaxes into your touch.

“What do you think of visiting Westeros?”

His violet eyes snap open, and he gazes up at you, puzzled, “You want to go back there?”

“I do, but only for a visit,” You continue, “I'd like the children to see their homeland and be introduced properly to their kin. Also, I want to show my family off in court.” You smirk, flicking your hair behind your back.

“You little minx, you want a revenge, do you not?” Daemon returns your smirk with a sly one of his own.

Your grin grows wider, “Great minds think alike, my dragon. Yes, it's exactly what I want. I want to crush everyone who's belittled me in the past. If it pleases you, of course, my prince.”

There's a satisfied grin on the dragon's mouth, a proud one, even, “I do not mind at all, my fierce lioness. And let the small folk write songs about our love and how it conquered all...”

You chuckle giddily at him before pecking his lips, “Thank you, husband,” You grab his hand and kiss it, putting it against your cheek, “But know that it's neither Westeros nor Essos is my home...”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, “Where might it be then, my love?”

“You,” you answer with a pacing heart, “You're my one and only home...”

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #daemonism #hotd daemon #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned. 

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them 

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn. 

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was. 

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy. 

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way. 

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing. 

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it. 

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser. 

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much? 

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering. 

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too. 

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves. 

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit. 

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water. 

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it. 

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees. 

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions. 

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on? 

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her  thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped. 

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance. 

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers. 

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow. 

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair. 

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons. 

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night. 

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth. 

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried. 

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words. 

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance. 

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves. 

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared. 

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he? 

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too. 

But life wasn’t fair. 

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better. 

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta. 

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him. 

Perfect. 

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would. 

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done. 

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest. 

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body. 

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall. 

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy. 

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back. 

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought. 

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top. 

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go. 

Not now, not ever. 

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck. 

Mine, she’s mine. 

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything. 

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock. 

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving. 

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case. 

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped. 

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would. 

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good. 

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

#nessian #better late than ever right??

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xi. FEAR PLAY - jonathan crane

word count: ~700 tags: solo, fear toxin, male masturbation, pretty dark n depraved lol, medical play, restraints masterlist | ao3

shout-out @lovelybucky1 for the stellar idea!

Jonathan tightens the restraints on his legs as he lays on the examination table, leaving his arms free. It was past the busy hours at Arkham Asylum, a time when he would do some of his most fulfilling work. He had just finished tweaking his various experimental versions of his tried and true fear toxin, but he needed to be sure it was exactly as he wanted it.

He never had any qualms about testing these serums on himself– no, that wouldn’t be fair to his many less-than-willing participants if he didn’t sample the wares every now and then. That’s how Jonathan rationalized it in his head, at least.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes the syringe from the medical instrument cart, the green liquid he was oh so familiar with causing him to suddenly hesitate– Jonathan had never taken it in such a concentrated form, only using the gas on himself. However, this was something he wanted– no, needed to do, right?

Taking the syringe in his hand, forefingers on the plunger, he rids the needle of its protective cap. He sighs as he injects the serum into his median cubital vein, Jonathan had no need for a tourniquet– he wasn’t a fussy child getting his chickenpox jab. He feels the cool liquid enter his vascular system, effects only taking seconds to make themselves known.

He flings the syringe across the room, the glass shattering against the wall as the darkness inherent to nightfall creates shapes of his traumatic past. He laughs, shutting his eyes, allowing himself to feel that irresistible feeling of true terror. There was a flurry of chemicals entering and exiting his system: adrenaline, cortisol, oxytocin, serotonin… not to mention his own concoction causing all of these to mingle beautifully.

“Oh, God…”

Jonathan’s eyes opened slowly to the shapes creeping even closer to him, and he couldn’t help but feel his slacks tightening– the real reason he so desperately bid his time until the late hours at Arkham. His body is covered in goosebumps as the shadows gather at his restraints, causing him to thrash subconsciously– he only gets harder.

His hips thrust against nothing as hallucinations fill his mind as well as his sight, even coming close to auditory. Whispers of things long hidden tickle at his ears, making his hair stand on end. Jonathan leans into the unreal touch, desperate for more of these unique sensations. He reaches down to haphazardly unzip and unbutton his pants, releasing his arousal to the sterile air of the examination room.

He hisses when his fingers wrap roughly around it, the voices seeming to laugh at his taboo reaction– it only spurs him on. Jonathan sets a rough pace for himself, he didn’t want it sweet or gentle– he didn’t deserve that. He was a sick son of a bitch, getting off where he’d tortured so many people. He fucking loved it.

The lack of lubrication as he jacked himself off was painful, but it was just how he was going to do it. His eyes glaze over as bits of pre-cum lessen the harshness, making it more bearable– maybe he could last? The thought goes out the window as he sees indescribable hallucinations wrapping themselves around his legs as well as his abdomen, tendrils of pure dark digging into his skin.

They make him want to spread his legs further, as opposed to closing them shut like a normal person. He was far from that. Jonathan moans loudly as his fingers swipe over his reddened tip, the sensitivity making his back arch. He squeezes his eyes shut as his fist tightens around himself, he’s oh so close.

Jonathan’s eyes focus on a specific visual hallucination creeping into his peripheral, its glowing eyes piercing into the depths of his psyche. He watches its hand make its way to wrap around his throat, cutting off his oxygen flow– despite it not being real.

That was enough to send him flying over the edge– his movements became sloppy and uncalculated as ropes of his desire landed all over the restraints, as well as his slacks. The creature of his mind’s creation did not relent, only softening its grip enough to let him catch a tiny breath now and then. Jonathan continued to milk himself for all he’s got– not planning on stopping until the toxin was fully flushed from his system.

How long would that be– maybe an hour or so?

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #kinktober 2023