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#if you are curious who is who look inside the last tag and there is a post about who is from what
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Bright as the sun
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PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | 3.6K
SUMMARY | Your growing family is finally adjusting to its latest addition, and now Howard and Maria have invited all of you for a barbecue on a beautiful summer day. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to relax while enjoying being together as your big, happy family.
RATING | Mature (M)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Use of pet names (Sunshine, Love/My Love, Little One), mentions of breastfeeding,
A/N | This one-shot has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, so I'm happy to finally share it with you all! It was a lot of fun to work on this story, and I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for all the support and proofreading for me! You're truly appreciated 💙
EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | "We have chickens."
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Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Source
Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist
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"Do we have everything, Sunshine?" your husband, Tony, asks as he's looking at the bags strewn across the floor. He looks at you and quirks a brow to ask, 'Do we really need all this?!'
"Yes, My Love, we have everything. Can you load the car while I change Paxton? Both Hudson and Orion have already dressed themselves, so I'll be right with all of you," you tell him before giving him a soft peck on his lips.
He looks at you as you turn around, your summery dress flowing around you perfectly, highlighting every single curve of your body to perfection.
"Are you ready to get changed, Little One? Yeah? That's what I thought!" you coo at Paxton, who looks up at you with a curious gaze, and you can't wait for the day he will show his first smile.
Changing him into his coveralls and shirt went smoothly, for which you're very thankful. He can be a handful sometimes, but he will always cooperate in such moments.
"Aren't you looking perfect today, Little One? You're the most handsome one of all today," you say as you bring him outside to meet the rest.
"Hi, Mommy!" the twins say in unison, and Tony's head shoots up so fast he hits his head against the roof of the car as he's loading it in. The laugh escaping you is a little too loud and earns you a glare from your husband, but you can't stop laughing.
"Sorry, 's too funny," you say before walking over to the car and putting Paxton in his carrier, ready to be strapped in and driven to Howard and Maria's house.
When the twins and Paxton are comfortable in the car, you can finally tend to your husband and apologize for laughing like you did just now.
"I'm sorry, My Love, I didn't mean to laugh at you like this," you say as you run your fingers through his hair, soothing him with a soft kiss on his forehead.
After a few more pecks on the lips, he lets go and heads to the driver's side of the car, and you can't help but admire the way his butt looks in the outfit he's wearing.
Although long, the drive to Howard and Maria's house went by without any problems, but you can tell you last fed Paxton a while ago.
"I'm so sorry, but would you mind unloading the kids and the things we brought? I'm getting very uncomfortable and need to either feed or pump right now," you say hastily, and Tony agrees.
You slip inside the house, and after a quick "Hi! I'm Going to feed him!" you run up the stairs as carefully as possible and slip into Tony's room for a bit of privacy. Whenever it's this bad, you prefer to be by yourself, whereas you would usually not mind breastfeeding in front of Howard and Maria either.
You open your dress, and Paxton is already a little fussy because he's hungry, but you're glad he's finally drinking. The relief is even seeping into your bones at this point. When you hear a knock on the door about 10 minutes later, you turn your head only to find Tony poking his head around the corner, concern visible on his face.
"Are you okay, Sunshine? You said you were getting uncomfortable, so I just wanted to make sure. I also brought your pump to be sure," showing you the case with your breast pump.
"You're a godsend, you know that? I might need it because he was less hungry than usual.
He puts the pump on the bed for you, and after one more kiss, he returns to Howard, Maria, and the twins, who were already outside and wanted to go into the pool.
Paxton didn't take long to be done, and you decided to pump the rest of the milk he didn't drink right now. He's perched up against your legs, which you pulled up so he can sit at a bit of a slope.
"What do you think your brother and sister are doing, hm? I bet they are already swimming right now!" you tell Paxton, and he melts your heart despite not doing anything other than grabbing your fingers.
The pump makes a soft whirring noise that lulls him to sleep in no time, and you decide to take a photo of it because he looks so cute when he's knocked out cold like he is now.
When the pump is done, you detach it carefully, ensuring you're not waking up Paxton. Then, you lay him in the pop-up crib that Howard and Maria have for him in their room. The baby monitor is also on, so you can go down to put your pumped milk away.
"Hi, Sunshine," Tony says as he walks into the kitchen to get something to drink. You're pouring the milk into bottles for easy access later.
"Hey, My Love. Thank you for bringing the pump earlier; it was a lifesaver because he wasn't too hungry today. Hopefully, he'll drink later," you say, and Tony stands behind you. His hands are splayed out on your stomach, and he rubs softly over the scar on your lower abdomen from the emergency c-section you had when Paxton was born.
You sigh softly as you close your eyes, leaning into Tony's touch with a content smile.
"I'm still so proud of you, you know that? After everything you've gone through since the surgery, the difficult healing process, and my not being home for most of it, I want you to know that you're amazing, and I'm so proud of you. I'm glad I'm growing old with you," he says before placing a few soft kisses on your neck.
A content hum leaves your lips as you slowly sway back and forth in his hold, enjoying the moment until your twins walk into the kitchen, looking for both of you.
"Mommy? Daddy? Are you two swimming with us?" Hudson asks, and you turn around in Tony's arms, giving him a questioning look.
"What do you think, My Love? Shall we join them in the pool?" you ask, and based on the wide smile on his face, he would love nothing more.
"Alright, since the two of you are already changed into your swimsuits, you go ahead, but be careful and listen to Gramps and Glamma, okay?" you say, and they nod in unison before running out the door and into the garden, enthusiastically telling both Howard and Maria the two of you will be swimming as well.
"I might need some help putting sunscreen on my back. Would you mind helping me out?" you ask Tony before placing a soft peck on his lips. His mouth curls into a wide smile at your question.
"I'd love nothing more, Sunshine," he says. Within less than 10 minutes, you're changed into your swimsuits and ready to join your twins in the pool. Maria is watching little Paxton through the baby monitor, and you can enjoy a careless afternoon in the pool with your beautiful twins and fantastic husband.
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Paxton took a good three-hour nap when you were all swimming. When he woke up, Maria got him out of bed before changing him into his own little swim diaper and swim shorts, making him look adorable. You got his baby pool floaty ready, and you're patiently waiting for your youngest son to be brought outside so he can cool off in the pool.
"Look at him, Sunshine! He's so cute in his swim shorts!" Tony says as he swims over to you, and your heart melts at the sight of him. Maria is carrying him over to you, and you quickly grab hold of him as she hands him to you.
"Hi, Little One. Did you have a nice nap?" you ask him, and he gives you something starting to resemble a smile in return. You place him in his baby floaty before walking down the stairs, and he's wiggling his arms and legs as you take him with you.
Hudson and Orion are playing with Howard and Tony on the other side of the pool. They keep climbing out and doing all sorts of tricks and jumps while you, Maria, and Paxton are near the shallow end. The sun is shining brightly on all of you, and everything feels right for the next few hours.
There are no worries about work or Tony being gone for weeks or even months on end during a busy filming schedule, and not a single concern clouding your mind as everyone is laughing carelessly, having the time of their lives.
After a while, Tony makes his way over to where you, Maria, and Paxton are floating. He comes to stand behind you on the step you're on, his head leaning on your shoulder while his arms are wrapped around you, and your free hand is interlaced with one of his.
"Are the three of you enjoying yourselves over here?" Tony asks as he looks at Paxton, who is having the time of his life in his floaty. Ever since you first introduced him to the pool, he has been unable to get enough, just like Hudson and Orion.
"We are, yeah," you say as you let Maria take over Paxton's floaty, and you turn in your husband's arms.
"What about you? Are you enjoying yourself?" you ask, and he nods, leaning in to peck your lips.
"Even more now that I have my girl in my arms again," he whispers, and the warmth floods your cheeks as he says those words. Even after being together for the time you two have been together, he still brings out your shy side, and you fall in love with him every day without fail.
"I love you, My Love," you tell him before leaning in, and as soon as your lips descend on his plump, pink lips, you can feel every last worry seep out of your body, and he is taking over your mind completely. Your tongue glides over his bottom one, and he opens up willingly, and you two explore each other's mouths for a little while without a single care in the world.
Howard and Maria give each other a knowing look, but they let the two of you do your thing, instead taking over the care of your kids as you share a private moment. Tony's hands roam over your back before sliding down and giving you a squeeze of your butt, making you smile into the kiss.
"Not now, My Love. You have to wait until tonight to get some of that," you tell him with an eyebrow wiggle, and this time, he turns a bright shade of red on his cheeks. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls you close, your fingers gliding through his hair simultaneously.
"I think I'll start getting ready for dinner. Do you want to help, Y/N?" Maria asks, and you nod. After placing a kiss on Tony's nose, you get out of the pool, but Tony can't keep his eyes off your body as you get out. With every inch of your body dripping water and the sun making you look like you're glowing, Tony knows he will never get enough of it.
"Be careful with the drooling, Son. We wouldn't want the pool to overflow," Howard remarks, and Tony turns toward his Dad to glare at him. Tony still blushes furiously at his Dad's words. He swims to the pool's deep end to play with Hudson and Orion while Howard takes care of Paxton in his floaty.
Meanwhile, you've put on a loose tank top and shorts as you work in the kitchen with Maria. She's preparing the meat that Howard will grill during dinner while you're cutting vegetables for the salad.
"How did you and Howard meet?" you ask your mother-in-law as she marinates some chicken, and a broad smile appears at your question. You have heard Tony say their first meeting was adorable, but he never told you exactly how they met, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Her smile is contagious as you look at her, and you can't stop smiling.
"Well, as you know, Howard and I met in college. I hadn't been in the US long then; it wasn't even a year. I was looking for a classroom and couldn't find it, so I ran into Howard. He walked me to the class even though his class was on the other side of the Campus, and the rest is history," she tells you. They have been inseparable since then, and it can only be described as 'meant to be.'
"But that's not all, actually. It gets cuter," Maria says as she stops what she's doing as she looks at you.
"Howard asked me on a date that same day because he came to my class after his class was done. We got together not long after, and he is my first - and last - boyfriend. I was supposed to go back to Italy after finishing college, but I stayed for him, and not long after, we got a beautiful baby known as Anthony Edward Stark," she tells you with a wink, making you smile again as you listen to her story.
"And the rest is history," you whisper, and she nods. Your gaze wanders to the pool, where Tony teaches your twins how to flip into the water. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you think about how lucky you are to have fallen in love with the most caring, loving man and the best Dad your three kids could ever wish for.
"He's fortunate to have you, Y/N. Running into you is the best thing that could have happened because he told me right after you two had your first date that he had found his soulmate. He is so in love with you, and to see him feel so happy is something I could only wish for as a Mom," she says, and you're fighting against the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.
"And seeing Tony turn into a loving Dad as soon as you told us about Hudson and Orion made my mother's heart proud. You're the best thing to have happened to him, and you are meant to be, I know it," she tells you. At this point, you can't fight the tears any longer; they slowly make their way onto your cheeks.
"Thank you, Maria, for everything," you tell her before you pull her into a much-needed hug. She hugs you tight as she rubs your back soothingly. Maria has been a second Mom to you, and this moment only cements that for you. After the sweet moment, you both return to preparing dinner, the rest of your conversation light and plenty of jokes sprinkled throughout.
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"Is everyone ready for dinner?" you ask the remaining members of your family who are still in the pool. The weather is still hot, so everyone climbs out of the pool before taking their places around the large dinner table. You take Paxton from your husband's arms as you sit down.
"Are you hungry, Little One? Yeah, you are, huh?" you ask him as you free your breast, allowing him to latch on quickly as you breastfeed him. Howard prepares the large grill while Tony sets the table with Maria, and Hudson and Orion play on their iPads until dinner.
You get comfortable in your chair as you look at your youngest son, suckling contently, when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your head. Tony is staring at you as you breastfeed your son, and he can't stop thinking about how he wants that to be him drinking your precious milk instead. His lactation kink is back in full force, and you can't help but chuckle.
"Maybe tonight, My Love," you tell him with a wink, and he turns bright red as he knows you caught him staring—and you also know what he is thinking. Tony quickly turns around, almost bumping into Maria as he does. She shakes her head with a smirk as she puts down the plates and cutlery on the table.
"He's crazy about you," she says, and you nod in response. Paxton ate a lot more this time, though you chose not to pump the excess, wanting to save it as a little treat for your husband later. The food is gone within no time, and dessert is quickly devoured. Hudson and Orion play in the sun for a bit, and Paxton is napping in your arms as you, Tony, Howard, and Maria enjoy an after-dinner drink.
Tony and Howard are sipping whiskey, Maria enjoys white wine, and you drink water. While you wouldn't usually say no to a nice glass of wine, you always stop drinking during pregnancy and breastfeeding.
"I wish we could have days like these more often," Tony sighs, and you nod before taking another sip of your drink. His hectic shooting schedule usually doesn't leave much time to spend with family, but whenever he can, he spends every second of quality time with them—just like he was brought up to be. Now that he has a big family, he can't get enough of the happiness he feels.
"You could just retire, you know," you joke with a wink, and for a brief moment, you can see Tony considering it. Ultimately, he shakes his head with a smile. He loves being an actor, and he wouldn't give it up just like that. He also knows that if he needs to be home, he will give it all up in a heartbeat because nothing comes before his family.
"I almost forgot to tell you something: we have chickens!" Howard suddenly says, and it makes you laugh at his sudden change of topic.
"Shall we look at them?" he asks, and you nod. Everyone quickly gathers around the large chicken coop they built for their five chickens.
"Do you want to know a little secret?" Maria asks the twins, and they nod in unison.
"We named three of them after you and your brother, and the other chickens still need a name," she tells them, and you can't stop yourself from laughing. Of course, they would name their chickens after your kids!
"Can we name them?!" Orion asks enthusiastically, and Maria nods.
"How about Chip and Dale?" she says, referencing her favorite Disney characters.
"I think it's perfect," you tell them, and then Tony suddenly bursts into laughter. You look at him with a quirked brow, wondering what is going on in that head of his.
"I just thought that Gramps and Glamma used to have a flamingo! Yeah, a real, bright pink flamingo named Bernard! I grew up with him, but unfortunately, he is no longer around. He got old, and then he passed away," Tony says as he thinks about his fond memories with the pink bird.
"Really? I don't believe you, Daddy!" Hudson says, but it's true. You have seen the photos of a little Tony standing next to Bernard as he imitated him, both standing on one leg. Tony sported a bright pink pair of pants, a huge smile, and a messy mop of hair on his head. He was - and still is - adorable.
"It's true, Baby Boy. Shall we go and look at the photos?" you ask, and before you get an answer, Hudson and Orion are running toward the house, wanting to see the photos you talked about.
"You brought this upon yourself, My Love. You just had to mention Bernard, didn't you?" Tony shakes his head with a goofy smile. You give him a peck on his lips before walking inside and putting down Paxton for his night's sleep, and then you join the twins as they look at old photos of Tony.
"Look, Mommy, it's like I see myself in that photo," Orion says, and you nod. The resemblance between her and Tony is uncanny, making you smile at the sight - it's obvious she is your husband's carbon copy, while Hudson looks precisely like you.
"You're beautiful, Baby Girl," Tony tells her as he picks her up, sits her on his lap, and cuddles her.
"Just like you, Daddy, if I'm beautiful, then you are too because I look like you!" she says with a big smile, and she's entirely correct. Hudson climbs into your lap as well, wanting to have some cuddle time with you before bed. His eyes are slowly getting heavy, and sleep is setting in quickly.
"I think it's time for a bath and then some sleep; what do you think?" you ask Hudson, and he nods. He gets up, closely followed by Orion, who is also starting to get sleepy after the day they've had. Their baths are finished quickly and out like a light within 45 minutes.
As you close their door, Tony walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. He immediately captures your lips with his, his tongue sliding into your mouth almost instantly. A soft groan leaves his lips as he lets his hand wander down to your butt, squeezing it softly.
"I think it's about time for us to go to bed as well, don't you think?" he asks in a teasing tone, and you can't help but agree as you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist as he catches you. After all the teasing both of you did today, he can't take it anymore, needing to take you apart in every way imaginable.
"I thought you'd never ask," you say, and he walks you two to his old bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He won't make that mistake again, after all.
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17 notes · View notes
cinnamon-galaxies · 8 days
Note
Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends
Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad
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Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader
Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader
Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language!
Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents.
Wordcount: 5.4k
A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!
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“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…”   You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…
Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”
   “Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”
   Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”
   Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”
   You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”
   That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”
   Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone. 
   “Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter… 
   “Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.
   “Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.
   “Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”
   You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”
   Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.
Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...
You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”
   “Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”
   You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.
   When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.
   “You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.
   “Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”
   “Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”
   “Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.
   You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.
   “Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.
   “Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”
   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”
   “He’s the king of hell, darling.”
   “And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”
   He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.
   “Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.
   You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”
   “Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.
   “She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.
   He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.
   Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.
   “We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.
   “Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”
   You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”
   After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.
   "Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”
   “It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.
   When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.
   “Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.
   You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”
   The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.
   “What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.
   “It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.
   A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”
   “And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.
   You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little. 
   “Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.
   This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”
   You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.
   “Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”
   Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.
   Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.
   Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”
   “Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.
   Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”
   “Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.
   “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?
   “He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.
   You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”
   “Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”
   Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!
   You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.
   Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.
   “You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.
   “Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.
   You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”
   Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”
   “Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.
   Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”
   You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.
   Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”
   “Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.
   Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”
   You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.
   Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.
   You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.
   You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.
   You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict… 
   “Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.
   Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.
   Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.
   You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.
   “That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”
   “No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”
   “Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.
   “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”
   “You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.
   “And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.
   “You know nothing, you prick!”
   “Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”
   “How do you dare question my commitment?”
   “At least I care for your daughters.”
   “Oh you tacky little piece of–!”
You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”
 you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”
   “Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.
   “No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”
   Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”
   Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.
   “Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.
   You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”
   “What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.
   “Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”
   Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.
   You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.
   “I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”
   Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.
   “Yes. Please.”
   Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.
   Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.
   “So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.
   “Stop it, Angel.”
   The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.
   You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.
   Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”
   He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”
*****
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holllandtrash · 5 months
Text
say don't go | charles leclerc
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
based off of taylor swift's 'stay don't go' why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'
word count: 5.2k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is kinda sad, mention of smut i guess but blink and you miss it
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You weren’t one to let your past haunt you. It was the past for a reason, it belonged behind you, all you could do was grow into a better version of yourself.
But what the hell were you supposed to do when Charles showed up at your door after six months of silence? 
It was a week into December and you were reluctantly putting up Christmas decorations because you were tired of the comments your friends made, telling you to get into the holiday spirit. Now you had the silver tinsel gripped in your hand as Charles stood on your front step, light flurries landing on his coat only to melt immediately after. 
It was the middle of the day and you lived in a crowded area, but passersby on the sidewalk and those driving past had no idea there was a Ferrari driver only metres away from them.
But no one would guess that Charles Leclerc would be travelling to Bristol during his holidays.
“What? Were you in the neighbourhood?” You asked, flicking the tinsel off of your hand and shaking off any remnants. You watched it fall to the floor before looking up, “Felt like stopping by?” 
“Can I come in?” Charles asked, glancing behind you. Was he looking to see if you had company? If you had moved on? Regardless of what, or who, he was looking for, his shoulders relaxed when he could tell you were alone. All that was behind you was cardboard boxes labelled Christmas. 
“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't shut the door in your face,” your demand was laced with your usual sweet tone, the same one that always intimated Charles because he never knew what to make of it. Never once did you raise your voice, you never yelled, never showed signs of anger. Even when you were annoyed, you always sounded calm. 
He sucked in a breath, “Well, it’s cold out.” He chuckled, but when you didn’t see any humour in his words he just nodded and moved on. “I was, in fact, in the neighbourhood- well I was in London, just figured I’d make a quick trip out west.”
Those weren’t good enough reasons and he knew it. You moved to grab the door and Charles reacted by holding his hand out to stop it from shutting, eyes trained on yours. 
His cheeks were red, not accustomed to the British winters. He wasn’t wearing mitts and you could see how his hands had responded to the dry air by cracking at the knuckles. His lips trembled, not because he was nervous but because this was probably the coldest his body temperature had dropped to in a long time. 
Which had you questioning how long he had been standing outside your door before finally knocking.
“There’s some things I’ve been meaning to say for a while now,” Charles spoke softly and you could see his breath with each word. “And you don’t need to say anything, but I’d love it if you’d listen.”
Maybe you felt bad that he was cold. Maybe you were curious as to what he had to say to you after so long. Maybe part of you still missed him and if these were the last few minutes you’d get with him, you weren’t going to let them pass.
Whatever the reason, you held the door open and he stepped inside. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his coat off, hanging it on the empty hook on the wall. Your eyes darted down to the shoes he wore and Charles recognized that look, knowing better than to walk any further with his shoes on. He smiled, sort of, remembering the first time you asked him to take his shoes off when he entered your apartment. 
If this was six months ago, you would have had slippers waiting for him to put on, but instead Charles was left to just his socks. You, though, seemed quite cozy. The matching sweats and jumper was only a shade darker than the slippers you wore and Charles almost asked where you purchased the set from, but he held his tongue because now wasn’t the time for casual conversation.
“Tea?” You offered, glancing at the kettle sitting on the stove. It had started whistling only minutes before he showed up but you hadn’t had a second to pour yourself a cup, too caught up in trying to untangle tinsel.
“Don’t want to put you out,” he shook his head, but when you manoeuvred past him to step into the kitchen, he didn’t stop you from grabbing two cups from the cupboard. He watched, standing at a cautious distance, as you made the two drinks the same way you always did. 
Charles was brought back to the time he walked into his own flat in Monaco and you were kneeling on the counter, trying to find a suitable cup because all of his mugs were too big and bulky for tea. He held his hand to your back, worried you’d tip backwards, which you didn’t, but you were happy he was there to help you off the counter and greet you with a kiss. 
“I’ll invest in new cups,” he said. He never did.
He didn’t like the silence that lingered between you now, probably the first time it ever bothered him, so he cleared his throat, “I like your new place.”
You nodded, “Thank you.”
He glanced around at the decor and spoke up again, “So you’ve been well?”
“You don’t need to pretend to care about how I've been.”
“I do care.”
The slow yet icy stare you gave him as you peered over your shoulder had Charles wondering if showing up here was a good idea. Instead of opening his mouth again, Charles looked at the decorations littered on the floor. 
He was drawn towards the open box of ornaments that was placed on the couch. He noticed the tree in the corner, but all you had put up so far was a string of lights. Curious, he looked closer into the box and smiled to himself when he saw a vintage Formula 1 Ferrari, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He also spotted a racing helmet, but couldn’t recognize the driver it belonged to.
It wouldn’t have shocked him if the rest of this box was F1 inspired Christmas ornaments. Either ones you had purchased yourself or ones that were given to you as gifts. 
Charles was always amazed at your knowledge of Formula 1. With your father being a retired driver himself, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you swept him under the rug during a trivia night. He admired your passion for the sport and maybe that’s why when he met you in the Ferrari garage, he wasn’t as quick to judge you like he was to everyone else who had purchased VIP passes for the weekend. 
You were there for the sport, for the racing, you didn’t care who was driving the car, it wasn’t like you had favorite drivers.
You were raised to appreciate the history of the sport, the roots, the beginnings. Because of that, you were drawn to the older teams, the classics. Williams, McLaren and against your fathers wishes, Ferrari. So of course you wanted to experience the Ferrari hospitality during a race weekend at least once. To see the cars up close, to be in the garage, to see the race from an entirely new perspective.
It was Australia, the third race of the 2023 season. It was a race that Charles tried hard to forget due to his DNF at the first turn, but there were highlights he cherished before the incident. 
He remembered standing in the garage before the first practice session and turning his head to flash a smile towards the VIP members standing at the back. He paid no attention to any of them in particular, but you stood out. The way you were so focused on the screen, taking in the Tech Talk segment that was playing on F1TV. You hadn’t even noticed Charles looking.
He saw you again the second day, closer to the front of the group before the start of FP3. You were wearing a white set, arms crossed over your chest with the headphones resting around your neck. You weren’t watching anything this time, instead you were in the middle of a conversation with a few of the mechanics. 
At first, Charles thought they were flirting with you. But when you pointed at the rear wing, lines drawn across your forehead and eyebrows pinched together in studious fashion, Charles got the hint that this wasn’t just a casual conversation. 
And then you held out your hand to introduce yourself, your once serious expression turning soft. You smiled at the mechanics as you shook both of their hands, seeming truly grateful to have met them. 
Naturally, Charles was curious as to what sort of conversation just took place. He waited a few minutes before asking Mark, the one of two mechanics who seemed to be doing most of the talking. 
“What was that about?” Charles asked.
Mark looked over his shoulder at you, but you were too engrossed in the screen again to notice the few sets on you.
“You don’t know who she is?” Mark asked. 
“Should I?” Charles glanced your way. This time, you caught it. 
You were also the first to look away.
“Damon Hill’s daughter,” Mark chuckled, probably in disbelief himself over who he just met. “She’s also got her masters in engineering. You know what she pointed out- the activation time for DRS is delayed compared to everyone else on the grid. I don’t know how she noticed it, but we’ll take a look at the data and if she’s onto something we’ll fix it before qualifying.”
Damon Hill’s daughter. The 1996 world champion. He had made a name for himself, known for being one of Schumacher's rivals during his prime. Charles knew he had kids, but didn’t know who they were. 
He wanted to introduce himself, but he waited till after qualifying. 
Was he a little taken aback when you seemed to be paying more attention to Carlos’ side of the garage at the end of the day? Maybe, but you had been watching him all weekend so far so he didn’t like the sudden change. 
His P7 starting position was nothing to be overly proud of, but the congratulations was the first thing out of your mouth when he approached you.
“Thank you,” he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more pride now than five minutes ago. He glanced at the car and then back at you, at the VIP lanyard resting over your chest, at your eyes that momentarily had him forgetting why he walked over to you in the first place. 
You held your hand in the same polite manner you had with the mechanics and you introduced yourself as Charles shook it slowly. 
“Damon Hill’s daughter,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
You cocked your head slightly, “Is that a line?”
A blush crept up to his cheeks when he realised how flirtatious he sounded without trying to, “No- I mean,” he licked his lips. “I guess it could be but I wasn’t trying for that.”
“I only just graduated,” you answered his question, which wasn’t really a question. “Figured I’d watch a few races, check out a few teams before I decide if I want to dip my toe in the motorsports field.”
“Driver?” He asked, eyebrows raised even though Mark had told him what you studied. But you laughed and Charles was glad he brought up the idea of you getting behind the wheel. He could get used to your laugh. 
“Engineer,” you corrected. “To be honest, I think IndyCar might be more my thing. Plus I know Arrow McLaren is looking to expand, hire a few more performance engineers. Mind if I use you as a reference? I saw those mechanics working on your DRS set up, don’t let them take the credit for catching the activation error.”
It was his turn to laugh. He liked your humour, something else he could get used to.
“Mark mentioned you pointed it out,” Charles nodded, unable to keep from smiling. He liked the way you spoke. Not only did he find your accent endearing, but he liked how sure you were of yourself. You knew your talents, you knew what you were capable of. He admired it. 
“Good luck tomorrow,” you said, taking it upon yourself to end the conversation. You adjusted the purse over your shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “It was nice meeting you, Charles.”
And then you walked off, happily letting someone else from the team accompany you, probably an engineer. Probably someone who could match your expertise in a conversation.
Charles didn’t know when he’d see you again, but he took it upon himself to make sure it was sooner than later.
Following Australia, the drivers had a bit of a break. Almost an entire month.
It was only a few days into the break when he asked his manager to get Damon Hill’s contact information. 
Confused was an understatement when your dad called you and said ‘Tell me why I just got an unsolicited text from Charles Leclerc asking if he could have your phone number’. 
By the end of the week, Charles had flown you from Paris, where you resided at the time, to Nice. He was there at the airport to pick you up and drive you to Monaco. 
You spent that entirety of the break together. 
Charles was smitten. As were you. 
But you were cautious. 
You knew first hand that racing was at the top of his priority list. You weren’t about to get your hopes up and think that these few weeks meant anything. He just had time on his hands and you showed interest. 
However, it was hard not to fall for Charles. He treated you well when you were together. He was easy to talk to. He made you feel safe, admired, wanted. He asked all the questions he could think of to get to know you. He made you breakfast in the morning, or at least he tried to. The mornings when you woke up to the smell of burnt eggs were just as entertaining. Plus you figured you could get used to the way he wrapped his arm around your waist as you took over. The kisses he peppered on your shoulder that tempted you towards pulling him back to the bedroom.
By the time the season picked up again for round 4 in Baku, you were so used to being around him that you had to tell yourself not to be hurt that he didn't suggest you go with him.
You and Charles did a lot of things during those few weeks, but never once did you label what you were. That conversation never came up. Neither did the exclusivity talk.
He still called. He texted you daily. He treated you like you were special, but racing came before a relationship. Even your dad reminded you of that. He told you not to dwell on it, that Charles would come to his senses when he felt secure with the team, with the season. He didn’t need the support of a girlfriend, he needed the support of his team.
And then Charles informed you he was flying you out to Miami. He wanted you to watch the race again. He wanted you there. 
You didn’t accompany him to the track, but he greeted you with wide arms and the brightest grin when you showed up at the Ferrari garage. His hand stayed on your lower back for a bit as he showed you around, giving you a proper tour but when you came across Mark it was almost as if Charles passed you off. 
He said ‘Here, chat with Mark for a bit, I’m sure you’ve got some opinions about the car’ and then he walked away.
You tried not to think too much about it, maybe he had obligations, media, signings, something. He wouldn’t fly you out to Miami and abandon you the first chance he got. He was a driver, he had priorities. You weren’t one of them, not yet.
It was a difficult situation to be in. When Charles gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. But when he was gone, he was gone. Distant, on his phone, sometimes he quite literally disappeared like at the end of the day on Saturday and you were left in the Ferrari garage wondering where the hell he got off to. 
But then he knocked on your hotel room door at a little after 10 and who were you to turn him away? 
Charles pulled you towards the bed, dragging you with him as he laid on the mattress. He asked about your day between the kisses he left down your neck. You answered as best as you could, but when his hands found the button of your trousers, it became a little more difficult to collect your thoughts. 
When he gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. 
You had forgotten all about his disappearances earlier. They didn’t matter, he was here now. His lips trailing every inch of your skin as your back curved off the bed. You tried to remind him that he had a race tomorrow, that you both could just go to sleep if he wanted but Charles only smirked and raised his face back to yours.
He hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with a ghost of a kiss, “Ma chérie, I’m not going to sleep until I hear you scream my name.”
He kissed the corner of your lips and then trailed down towards your ear, adding a quiet, “At least twice,” to the end of the original statement. 
And Charles was true to his word. He had you seeing stars with just his tongue alone in a matter of minutes. 
Charles worshipped you, he took care of you. In a short period of time, he came to know your body and how to get the reactions he desired. He loved seeing you come undone, loving being the one to bring you to the edge and watch you spill over. 
Maybe it was a pride he was chasing, but you wouldn’t think of that possibility until it was too late.
When he climbed under the covers next to you at the end of the night, you could still make out the shape of his body, his gentle features, even in the dark. Your hand found his chest, sliding upwards until it wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him.
He traced his fingers over your cheek, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as he whispered, “Comment ai-je eu cette chance?” How did I get so lucky? 
That did it for you.
You weren’t just smitten anymore. You were in love. 
Another impromptu break after Miami meant you had a few more weeks with Charles before he had to give his attention back to racing. You didn’t spend it all in Monaco this time. After about a week, Charles suggested the two of you go back to your home. Back to Paris.
Paris with him was heavenly. 
The rest of the world didn’t matter when it was just the two of you together. Your days were spent taking in the city, your evenings were spent in a variety of restaurants, lounges, anywhere he could spoil you, it seemed. 
It was nearing your last few days before he had to leave when he suggested you take a midnight stroll. The weather was perfect, the streets wouldn’t be too busy. You had no reason to say no. 
And there was something about walking the streets of Paris with Charles at night, holding his hand while he spun you under his arm beneath the glow of a street lamp. The Eiffel Tower was sparkling in the distance. Charles’ eyes lit up brighter than it. 
There was something about him. About this moment. About the last few months. All of it led up to standing here with him now.
And you knew better, but that didn’t stop you.
“I love you.”
And just like that, you faded into madness. Slowly, silently, but it was inevitable. 
Charles didn’t say anything. His lips parted like he wanted to, like he thought about it, only to ultimately lick his lips and inhale a sharp breath. 
By saying I love you, you plunged a knife into your own chest, opening yourself up to vulnerability, but his silence only twisted it in deeper. 
You backed up, hand dropping from his. Was that his doing or yours? He whispered your name, but only out of pity. He didn’t love you. He didn’t love you. 
Suddenly Paris didn’t seem so heavenly.
Charles left that night. Maybe he thought you were asleep, but you heard the door swing on its hinges. You heard the wheels of his suitcase being dragged out into the hallway. You turned over in bed, despite knowing you’d find his side empty, but you didn’t think it would turn cold so fast. 
A few days later, Charles was spotted walking into the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, but he wasn’t alone.
Next to him, the stunning Alexandra Saint Mleux. Even her name was beautiful.
You had heard whispers that Charles and her had a history, but you didn’t think anything of it. Why would you worry yourself with speculation when he was putting you on a pedestal when you were together? 
He had a way of making you feel wanted, but you weren’t the only one who felt that way.
Did she know you two were together? That he was with you in Paris? Was he seeing both of you or did he run back to her the second you told him something he wasn’t ready to hear?
You tried to move on, really. There was no relationship for you to cling to, Charles never said you were exclusive. He just knew the right words to say to make you feel like you were. 
You flew to Indianapolis for the Indy500. A rash decision, but the further away from Monaco the better. Your connections at Arrow McLaren gave you the chance to get a closer look at the inner workings of the team, had you momentarily forgetting about Charles. You wanted to be an engineer, not the girlfriend of a driver. You told yourself to get it together.
But then you returned home and seeing the slippers you had bought for Charles had you wondering why you couldn’t be both. You would have been both if he just said something, if he just told you he loved you. 
You should have distanced yourself from Formula 1, at least for a little while. You should have turned down the invitation from a partnering brand of Ferrari, enticing you to come to Spain for the race. You should have flown back to the states, reconnect with Arrow McLaren.
Instead you found yourself in Barcelona. The entire time you were there you knew it was a mistake and if you couldn’t figure that out on your own, seeing Alexandra chat with some Ferrari team members below while you sat up above in the hospitality was a painful reminder. 
Part of you considered talking to her. You wanted to know if she was in the same boat you were- and if she was clueless, maybe give her a heads up that Charles was going to say sweet nothings to her at night only to leave her in the dark. 
But Alexandra wasn’t the one you needed to talk to.
Between practice and qualifying on Saturday, you made your way to the paddock knowing that’s where Charles would be. You walked past Alexandra chatting to someone a few motorhomes down, so you felt better knowing she wasn’t currently with him.
Luck would have it, you ran into Mark outside of Ferrari. He invited you in of course, always happy to chat about the sport with someone who appreciated it on the same level and you assured him you would, you just had to talk to Charles first.
You knocked on the door of his driver's room, not even sure what you were going to say. You were hurt, you were saddened, you were angry but you hadn't had time to think about what you would say to him when you were finally face to face again.
The door swung open and there he was. Shocked to see you, first of all, but not upset. You stood in the hallway and watched as Charles took a breath of relief, a sliver of a smile creeping up on his lips as he held the door open for you to walk in.
Your heart jolted at the idea that maybe, he still wanted you. The look he gave you was almost enough for you to forget he hadn’t said a word to you since you told him you loved him. 
Almost. 
You stepped in and leaned against the door after it shut, keeping a safe distance as he stood back against the massage table. 
Your lips parted, but before you could get a word out, his phone started to ring. You both glanced at the contact, at who was trying to get a hold of him.
Alexandra.
You swallowed, waiting until he let it go to voicemail before your timid voice filled the room. “You love her?”
Maybe Charles didn’t know how to love anyone. You’d believe it, with the way he tensed the second the word passed through your lips. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either.
“I can’t commit, Y/N.” He tried to say, like that made up for everything. Like that’s the answer you were looking for. 
“No, you can, Charles, but not to me.” You stated, keeping your voice calm. You weren’t one to yell. Causing a scene wasn’t your thing. You were always so soft spoken. Soft spoken, but straight to the facts. “Were you seeing both of us at the same time?”
“She knows, if that's what you're wondering." Charles quickly slid that piece of information in there. “She found out- about us. Threatened to leave me if-”
“If you didn’t choose?” You raised your eyebrows. Once again, his silence spoke volume. “So did you make up your mind before or after Paris?”
Charles averted his gaze for a second, “I realised in Paris I couldn’t love you the way you loved me.”
“You probably realised that a lot earlier,” you pointed out.
Charles must have known you adored him. There was no way he didn’t see the way you looked at him, the way you worshipped him. He knew and still strung you along, making you think he could love you back if you were just patient.
“You didn’t need to lead me on as long as you did, Charles.”
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
I didn’t want to lose you, he says. Bringing light to the fact that he had you. You were his, in a sense. Despite never saying the words out loud. 
But he was never yours.
“So I was there, for what?” You asked. “As a backup? In case things with Alexandra didn’t work out?”
Charles was intimated by how calm you were. He would have preferred if you yelled at him, if you fought with him. It would make it easier on both ends to put whatever this relationship was to rest. Instead, you were serene. You came here to talk, to get answers, you didn’t come here to form a divide. 
Because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to let go. How could you let go when you hadn’t spoken? He hadn’t given you closure, he didn’t say I don’t love you he just…didn’t say anything. 
You weren’t going to beg for him to come back, but in the far corners of your mind you were hoping that your appearance here would make him question his decision. You were banking on the idea that when he saw you, he’d remember what he saw in the first place when you met in Australia. 
If he changed his mind right now, you’d put all of this behind you. You’d stay at his side, you’d be there for him, you’d be his for real this time.
If he, once again, said nothing, you’d go. You’d go and you’d stay gone.
“I loved you,” you whispered. The past tense striking Charles more than he thought it would, but he didn’t show it. Loved. You loved him, and you still could. 
Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Almost two and the only thing that lingered between you was silence. Heavy, loud, painful silence. 
You grabbed the handle of the door and decided enough time had gone on. You deserved better than this, than a man who couldn’t make a decision, than someone who played with your feelings because they couldn’t figure out their own. 
The second you pulled the door back, your name fell from Charles’ lips. You were one step into the hall, halfway to gone, and he stopped you. 
All he had to do was say don’t go. All he had to do was tell you he wanted you. 
With your back still to the Ferrari driver, you waited for those next words but they never came. You knew they wouldn’t. 
That was the last time you spoke to Charles. You knew how to stay true to your word too. 
So why was he suddenly here, six months later, sitting on your couch and looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something first when you made it clear a long time ago if you were gone, you were gone.
Charles only took a sip of his tea before putting it on the coffee table. He then moved the box of Christmas ornaments, not liking the divide it put between you as if he wasn't the one to create the wedge in the first place. 
You were stupid, to speak first, but you were tired of the silence. He came here for a reason and if he wasn’t going to tell you why in the next two minutes, you were going to send him back out into the snow.
“How’s Alexandra?” You asked, not that you were interested in knowing if he was happy or thriving in his relationship. You were, however, impressed to see that he could in fact commit, but you were right about that. He just didn’t want to commit to you. 
“Do you care?” He asked in return. 
You shook your head slightly, “I do not.”
Charles smiled at your honesty. Your gentle tone didn’t match the brutal truth.
“So let’s not talk about her,” Charles said and you nodded in agreement. He shifted in his spot, glancing at the decorations, the tea, really anything but you. 
And you weren’t about to wait again, not if this was going to lead to the one thing your silence always led to. 
You sucked in a breath, “Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”
He nodded, knowing that this was all on him. He was lucky enough to even be allowed into your home, and he knew you were slowly regretting that decision the longer he just didn’t get to the point. 
Charles lifted his head, eyes finally meeting yours. He even flinched, like he was trying to reach for your hand only to decide against it at the last second, relying on just his words for a change.
“I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Part 2 - now that we don’t talk
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"The Love Shack" Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd
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Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)
Read Part I - The Proposition HERE
Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...
Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 7.9k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting
Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who read, commented, reblogged, liked and asked to be tagged for Part II!
@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @ @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @ @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyanceee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld
Here is Part II and I warn ya, it's all filth. 🤭 Grab a glass of wine, a blanket, a towel, whatever you need... and enjoy!
***~~~***
Indecision wasn’t something you were accustomed to. You’d always prided yourself on making strong decisions both personally as well as professionally. It was one of the reasons you rose through the ranks to beat out all the other warriors to become Neteyam’s second-in-command. So, the fact that you’d spent majority of today vacillating in your decision to either go or not go to the outpost was an uncomfortable anomaly.
The conclusion of last meal earlier in the evening had brought with it a burning imperative for you to make your final decision and stick with it. You were dismayed to find that the urgency of the time didn’t help you one bit.
You’d trudged on shaky legs into the woodlands in the outpost’s general direction, before being overwhelmed with a severe case of cold feet. However, instead of turning and running for home, you’d plopped yourself down on some moss and begun whittling away at your half-finished spear from yesterday while you dithered further.
That was a couple of hours ago and it was getting late now.
The present found you parked in the woodland scrub just outside the old outpost with your finished spear in hand. The hesitant side of you hoped that maybe Neteyam and Lo’ak might have abandoned their proposition after your no-show, given the late hour. However, the lambent glow of the lamps inside the outpost shelter and the muffled sound of one of them laughing told you otherwise.
The curious side of you thrilled with anticipation at the unknown…
The brothers had done well to refurbish the abandoned outpost. It had been the central gathering place for the war council during the Long War with the sky people, and it had suffered severe damage during battle. The end of the Long War had been a long-awaited blessing and the outpost had been abandoned, its function no longer necessary and the memory of what it symbolised too painful for some to bear.
But Neteyam and Lo’ak had rebuilt the damaged settlement, renewing it with new textiles, new fibres and new designs. Apart from its core structure, it hardly even resembled the old war outpost anymore.
Approaching the outpost’s entrance where a set of draping cloths served to shield its interior from outside eyes, you steeled yourself under your breath, “Come on, just go and have a look. You can leave if it’s not your thing, like Neteyam said.”
You’d come this far… one peek wouldn’t hurt? If you were honest with yourself, the taste of Neteyam’s kiss had lingered on your lips and tongue all of last night, and it was your craving to experience it again that had brought you here.
Urging your feet forward, you were in process of reaching to part the cloths when they suddenly flew apart from before you as someone made to exit. You hissed, startled in alarm, instinctively lowering yourself into a defensive position with your spear pointed frontward.
“Argh! Holy shit!” Lo’ak exclaimed, stumbling backward in the face of the sharp weapon you were wielding, “Great Mother, who do you think you’re going to be spearing with that?!”
Immediately lowering your spear when it became apparent you were in no danger, you were quick to deliver a faltering apology, “Sorry, you gave me a fright!”
“I gave you a fright? Goddamn woman, I was just going to take a leak and I nearly pissed myself!”
“Sorry!”
The other side of the entry cloths parted to reveal Neteyam who had come to investigate. There a momentary flash of surprise on his face before one side of his mouth quirked upward in a wily grin that made your ears heat.
Recovered now from the scare you’d inflicted on him, Lo’ak shot a smug smirk at Neteyam and remarked at you, “You’re very late. Don’t have too much fun without me, I’ll be back.”
Neteyam stepped aside to allow you to enter while Lo’ak left to relieve himself. You padded on tentative feet into the outpost and you were astonished to find the space quite innocuous. The interior held all the usual furnishings that you’d expect in a living space; rugs, throws, cushions and soft mats; woven decorations hung from the upper framings of the outpost and a cosy-looking fire burned in a central hearth.
Your expression must have betrayed your thoughts as Neteyam broke the silence with a chuckle, “Not what you expected?”
“I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.” That was mostly true, you didn’t have any specific expectations or imaginings of the place, you just hadn’t expected the space to look so normal.
From the salacious gossip that had run rampant amongst the women about their experiences here, as well as from your memory of the sensual cries you’d heard that one night you’d ventured near enough, you’d projected a more sordid atmosphere than the one you currently found yourself in.
“When you didn’t show soon after last meal, I figured you weren’t coming.” Neteyam breathed.
You turned to look at him properly for the first time this evening and you noticed his relaxed attire. You were used to seeing him in full warrior regalia, but tonight he was dressed simply, without his cummerbund, arm and leg guards, and no weapons. A beaded choker necklace adorned his neck and a woven armband hugged one of his impressive biceps, but apart from this and a purple loincloth, the rest of him was bare.
You could see so much of his skin… smooth and striped, and cerulean blue all over hard muscle…
“My curiosity evidently won out in the end.” You replied, attempting to tamp down the buzzing knot of nerves in your belly with a small smile at him.
“You can put this down.” Neteyam reached for your spear, prying it gently from your grasp and moving to set it against the nearest wall. His eyes glimmered warmly in the firelight, “No one will hurt you here.”
You nodded, rubbing your empty palms together with a deep breath. You began to circle the space, noticing that it was bigger than you initially thought as there were more cloth draperies that hung to the sides of the shelter that served to partition it off into different sections. Each section held more of the same comfortable furnishings, but the drapes clearly served the purpose of privacy.
Thankfully, as your curiosity increased, your nervousness decreased and you finally felt comfortable enough to ask, “So, what? The women come here and everyone just plays?”
A husky chortle from him, “If that’s what people want to do. Sometimes everyone just relaxes over some drinks and hangs out. Things don’t necessarily always escalate into more.”
You cast him a sceptical look, continuing on your exploration of the place, “And how often is it that sex and body play doesn’t end up on the agenda?” If gossip was to be believed, then you knew it wasn’t often at all that things stayed chaste.
When Neteyam didn’t respond, you turned to face him as he followed you and the wicked grin on his face confirmed that what you’d surmised was right. You rolled your eyes and he laughed.
“And what are these tawtute (human) things that all the women rave about? These tools that supposedly bring pleasure like nothing they’ve ever experienced before?” You queried, intentionally keeping your tone flippant despite the flagrantly sexual nature of your question.
Neteyam’s hot breath ghosted the nape of your neck and you realised he had walked right up to your back, “Come, I’ll show them to you.”
A warm, large hand enveloped one of yours and he led you over to another part of the shelter where a cloth-covered shape lay. Kneeling before it, Neteyam lifted the soft cloth to reveal an intricately designed chest woven from flax and colourful fibres. Undoing the leather snap at its front, he opened it to reveal a plush-lined inner in which sat a series of instruments in of varying shapes and materials you’d never seen before.
The colours of these instruments were also bright, unnaturally so. There were a myriad of shades and tones of colour that existed on Pandora, but the pinks, purples a blues you were looking at were very artificial. A bright blue tool caught your eye and unable to resist, you slowly reached to pick it up. It was smooth and long, and you could only just wrap a hand around the width of it. Its length was also slightly curved, tapering upward at the end.
Neteyam watched quietly as you picked through the various offerings in the chest, running your fingers over the smooth silicone of the toys. He fought to keep his composure as erotic thoughts of you using them began to assault him. You appeared rather intrigued by the blue g-spot vibrator you held, though he could tell by the slight frown on your face that you weren’t really sure what it was for.
“That’s an insertion toy. It goes inside you.” He informed, “And if you turn it on. It vibrates.”
Vibrates… You’d never heard that human word before and you didn’t know what it meant. You let Neteyam take the toy from you and he fiddled with something on its length before it came to life with a buzzing hum that made you jump.
Extending cautious fingers towards the humming toy, you touched its vibrating form before withdrawing your hand, “It tickles.”
“It feels good against you when it’s in the intended place.” Neteyam’s voice was slightly rough and you could smell the familiar musk from last night emanating from him again.
“Do they all go inside?” You asked, eyeing up the other oddly shaped toys, some of which did not look particularly comfortable to insert.
“Not all. This is a wand vibrator and it’s generally only for external use.” He picked up a purple toy, which had a longer handle and a large bulbous head at the end. Switching this one on, you noted that his one hummed even more aggressively than its blue predecessor.
“Whoa, straight into the toy box, are we?” Lo’ak had returned and his voice was a teasing drawl as he joined you and Neteyam, “Getting right down to business then.”
Ears flattening a little at the jibe, you harrumphed at Lo’ak, “I’m just looking.”
The few loose braids by his temple clacked as he laughed, “Oh, they’re not made for looking at, trust me.”
The bravado you’d found waned a bit with Lo’ak’s return, the reality of the situation seeping into you. Great Mother, were you really here discussing sexual implements with two men?... Were you seriously contemplating engaging in a sexual encounter with them?...
Standing up to put some distance between you and the two brothers, you dusted your knees off lightly and suddenly felt rather out of place. You didn’t know what to do with your hands and you didn’t know where to rest your eyes either.
Sensing that his bold teasing had thrown you off kilter, Lo’ak stood to meet your eyes and his face was sincere as he spoke, “Hey, if you were curious and just wanted to see what this place was about, that’s OK. We can just hang if you want to.”
You didn’t acknowledge Lo’ak’s last statement with a definite answer. You warred within yourself. What did you want?... You were nervous, but you didn’t want to go either. The recollection of the searing but short-lived kiss you’d shared with Neteyam made an appearance again in your mind. You wanted to explore that further… By Eywa, you didn’t think you’d object to kissing Lo’ak either…
Like his older brother, Lo’ak too was dressed simply. Neteyam had risen to his feet next to him and they made an incredibly handsome pair. You could absolutely understand why the other women lusted after them. After all, you were hardly innocent of that crime. Your long-standing attraction to Neteyam had ensured that.
“No, I’ll- I’ll stay.” You resolved, “I don’t want to be the only one who’s left out of the loop.”
The two brothers shared a look that you couldn’t decipher the meaning of. It was a glance between them with fairly neutral expressions, but you did see the slight upturn of their lips.
“Where’d you even get those things anyway?” You questioned. You knew that with their mixed heritage and with Jake originating from the humans’ side, that there were many tools and instruments that the olo’eyktan had adopted for use in the clan. However, you could hardly imagine the olo’eyktan openly bringing in sex toys for the clan’s wider use.
“Spider.” Neteyam supplied with a fond laugh, “He’s got quite the knack for sourcing and supplying us with contraband under the radar from the avatar camp.”
You giggled at the thought of Spider. You liked the human. He lived majority of his life amongst the Omatikaya with the Sullys anyway, so despite his foreign form, he was very much Na’vi at heart.
There was one last set of drapes in a corner by the toy chest which caught your eye. It was the only partitioned section of the outpost that you hadn’t yet explored. Ambling towards it you murmured, “What’s behind here? More of the same?”
Neteyam and Lo’ak watched you approach the last partition, knowing full well that what was behind the draperies was not simply more of the same. The last pair of drapes led into their main play area. Quietly they awaited your reaction and sure enough it came soon after in the form of a soft gasp.
They’d built a large, raised bedframe in there and on it sat a thick bedding mat swathed in silken fabric. The bed was sizeable enough to sleep several adults and piles of plush cushions and rolls lined one end of it. The other main feature of the play area, which was also courtesy of Spider, was a large mirror that ran along one entire wall.
You’d never seen anything like it. The gigantic bed was one thing, but the strange pane of whatever it was that spanned the entirety of the opposite wall was breathtaking. You had never seen your own reflection so clearly in your life, save for the completely still water of a puddle after heavy rain, and even that was a far cry from this. Mesmerised, you approached the large pane until you were standing right before it.
“It’s called a mirror.” Lo’ak’s deep timbre sounded.
You’d been so entranced by your reflection that you hadn’t noticed the two brothers enter the space behind you. They flanked you now, one on either side.
“It’s amazing.” You breathed in astonishment. Your fingertips met its cool and solid surface and you marvelled at the clarity of it, “Everything is so clear. It’s beautiful.”
“Just like you are, paskalin.” Neteyam’s words elicited another intake of breath from you and your amber eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror.
Both brothers were standing very close to you, their bodies angled inward towards yours. They were close enough that a subtle shift on either side of you would cause your arms to brush their torsos. Your ears twitched as you perceived the quiet sound of their breaths and your skin prickled with the body heat you could feel exuding from their bodies.
The mirror’s reflection also allowed you to see yourself in-between them and it became apparent to you how much taller and bigger they were in stature compared to you. The top of your head only just skimmed past their chins and your lithe body was much willowier next to their more muscular physiques. The image was as arousing as it was intimidating…
Lo’ak was carefully scenting you now, in a very similar way to the way Neteyam had done the night before. He trailed a hand up your forearm and he pulled you against him to sniff at your hair. Lo’ak’s scent was different to Neteyam’s, but it was no less appealing to your feminine senses.
Through the reflection you saw Neteyam dip his head and you anticipated his action moments before you felt the scorching heat of an open-mouthed kiss against the other side of your neck. Your next inhale was a quivering rush of air into your lungs and your heart began to pound with want.
Leaving a trail of nips up your neck to your jaw, Neteyam paused to purr by your ear, “This is a place where people come to feel good and surrender to pleasure. Rank doesn’t matter here and you leave the outside world at the door. You set the boundaries, paskalin, but if you stay tonight then you must also promise to trust us.”
You turned your head towards him, chasing Neteyam’s lips with your own, yearning to taste him again. But he pulled away with a roguish smirk that promised your patience would be rewarded if you waited.
Your reply was a breathy whimper, “Yes.”
“Is there anywhere you don’t want to be touched?” Lo’ak murmured, the fingers of one hand tickling your hip while its twin splayed flat against the small of your back.
“No, it’s all fine.” Your chest heaved with your deepening breaths, every nerve ending hyperaware and hypersensitive in the waking dawn of your arousal.
Lo’ak’s answering grin was lascivious and the hand at your back pulled the tied knot of your chest-covering free. The garment shifted as it loosened, the beads scraping over your stiffening nipples. Neteyam was quick to undo the last tie of the garment behind your neck, and with a gentle swish it fell from your body entirely, leaving you exposed.
A harsh groan sounded from Neteyam and he cupped one of your breasts, letting his thumb flick over its hard peak, “Eywa, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted touch you like this. Every time your covering shifted at work, every little peek I was afforded when it slipped momentarily, it was torturous.”
Neteyam had been looking at your breasts?... The sentiment was an exciting surprise to you and you leaned into the agonising brush of his fingers over your nipple.
Lo’ak joined his brother, stroking and fondling your other breast, “You’ve got such pretty nipples, and Eywa, they love being touched.”
A stifled moan left you as pleasure shot straight to your core from the stimulation. Your head lolled onto Neteyam’s shoulder and he clasped your chin to angle it the right way so he could reward you with a passionate kiss. You felt him snake a hand down your front, the heat of his palm blazing past your navel to travel even lower. You jolted when he cupped your crotch, his fingers deftly finding the outline of your clitoris and rolling against it.
Neteyam broke away and the absence of his mouth allowed a desirous whine to escape you. He posed another question to you, “How much do you want from us tonight?”
You were dizzy with desire and your core pulsed with liquid heat. You gave another ragged moan when Lo’ak knelt down to capture one nipple in his mouth. Your eyes flicked forward to the wanton reflection before you; one brother suckling on your breast, the other with a hand buried between your thighs while he watched you. The press of their bodies against yours was delicious and you could see matching erections straining behind their loincloths in the reflection.
Your decision came to you undeniably, and you abandoned all your inhibitions in the heat of the pleasure you were experiencing, “I want everything. I want you both to fuck me tonight.”
Their reaction was immediate. There was a flurry of motion as both brothers moved, working in tandem to free your loincloth as well as their own. Naked now as the day you were born, every part of you screamed with want while every inch of your bare skin was pressed up and imprisoned between two aroused male bodies.
You were turned and facing Lo’ak now and you could feel his hard erection throbbing between the press of your torsos. He claimed your lips in a full but brief kiss and then said, “You know, if we’d known that all it would take to get you here was a private session with us, we would’ve done this sooner.”
“You’re incorrigible.” You retorted with a chuckle.
“Shall we move to the bed?” Neteyam suggested hoarsely, “I’m rather impatient to explore you, paskalin.”
“No wait,” You stopped him. You looked into the mirror again, rather enjoying the wide and unimpeded view it gave you of the whole space. Both Neteyam and Lo’ak were gorgeous to look upon and you wanted to enjoy the vision of their imposing frames while they were standing. “I want to enjoy looking at you both like this first.”
Facing the mirror front on with the brothers on a slight angle, your eyes tracked from the top of the pane downward. They were both panting lightly and their pupils were dilated wide with lust in their beautiful faces. Broad shoulders and muscular chests were followed by powerful abdominals that tapered to their slim hips and strong legs. But of course, the two things your attention snapped back to, once your eyes had reached their feet, were their impressive erections.
Biting your bottom lip and feeling frisky, you encircled each of their cocks in your grasp, one in each hand. They were both strapping men, so it didn’t surprise you that they were proportionate in this department too. Simultaneous grunts came from them both when you began a slow squeeze and stroke. Great Mother, they were gorgeous here too… long and girthy, hot skin over rigid hardness that made your pussy clench in yearning…
Lowering yourself to your knees, you peered up at them both while you continued your pumping rhythm over their lengths. You could see they were enjoying themselves, their abs flexing and contracting with their pleasure.
Turning your face towards Neteyam, you held his eyes as you parted your mouth and licked a slow stripe up his cock and over the head of it. His hips jerked involuntarily, a hiss whistling from between his gritted teeth. When your next move was to take his cock into your mouth and suck most of the way down, his response was a strangled cry. It took some effort and co-ordination on your part, but you conscientiously bobbed and sucked while still stroking Lo’ak as well.
“Fuck, you look and feel so good.” Neteyam droned, panting through an open mouth as his face contorted and moved through a series of expressions, all of which spoke to his immense enjoyment.
Lo’ak’s hips were thrusting lightly, pushing and pulling his hard flesh in a delicious glide through your grasp. He would let out the occasional whimper, which mingled sensually with Neteyam’s unrestrained groans. Lo’ak gave a small whine shortly after and you gently drew off Neteyam’s cock with a small pop, licking your lips.
You turned to the younger brother and grinned coyly at him, “I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Lo’ak’s deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and he cocked his head at you with a wink, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you forget about me anyway.”
The higher-pitched whine that then followed when you did take his cock into your mouth was a very stimulating contrast of sound.
Neteyam was shifting behind you and you felt him pat the inside of your leg lightly, “Part your legs a little for me.”
Still pleasuring Lo’ak, you multi-tasked and did as you were told. Out of the corner of your eye in the mirror, you saw that Neteyam had moved to lie on his back and had shimmied his head and shoulders between your knees.
Having a bird’s-eye view of the situation and understanding his brother’s intent, Lo’ak smirked and looked down to meet your eyes where you continued to suck him off, “You’re in for a treat, sweet thing.”
Neteyam’s firm hands gripped your hips to lower you slightly towards him. You could feel his breaths puffing gently against your pussy, which you knew was slick with your arousal. The rasp of his tongue against your folds and up to your clit was like a bolt of lightning to your core and you jumped, choking on Lo’ak’s cock when your body failed to co-ordinate your inhale of air with the bob of your head.
The assault that Neteyam began on your core was rapturous. He alternated between broad licks and swipes of his tongue and nose, and intent suckling on your clit. Lo’ak had withdrawn himself from your mouth, settling for stroking himself instead while he enjoyed the view of you squirming over his brother’s face. Leaning forward to place your hands on the ground, you rocked your hips, smoothing your core over Neteyam’s face. Breathy whimpers were coming from you as you neared your climax, but just as it was within your reach, his grip on your hips shifted and he lifted you upward from him to sit up.
“W-Wait no!” You squealed as your bottom plopped onto the ground beneath you, “Why’d you stop?!”
“Shh sorry, paskalin.” Neteyam soothed, cleaning his face off on the back of his wrist and swooping in to kiss you, “We’ll take care of you later, promise. We’re just building you up first. It’ll be worth it. Trust us, yeah?”
Chortling at the wounded expression of disappointment on your face, Neteyam got to his feet before reaching down to pull you up to your own. Your legs were unsteady, but it didn’t matter as he bent to scoop you into his arms next and carried you onto the large bed. Lo’ak had momentarily disappeared from view, but when he reappeared with three colourful implements in hand, you understood the reason for his disappearance. The sex toys.
You felt like you were burning up as you lay on the soft bedding. The heat was like molten pleasure through your veins. The tips of your nipples tingled and your pussy ached to be touched again. Lo’ak returned to join you on the bed and he handed the toys to Neteyam.
Coaxing you to sit up, Lo’ak moved to sit behind you with his legs spread so you could lean back against him. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face, Lo’ak whispered, “How about we give my brother a bit of a show, hmm? He likes to watch. It really gets him going for later.”
You looked at Neteyam, who had perched himself at the end of the bed facing you both. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, almost as if he’d heard what Lo’ak had whispered to you and thoroughly agreed with the idea. You felt Lo’ak’s hands snake under your knees and he proceeded to then hitch them up towards your torso, leaving you splayed wide in exhibition before Neteyam who merely smirked.
Neteyam crawled closer, a couple of toys in hand. You recognised the blue one from before, but there was another strange gold coloured implement you didn’t recognise. You frowned at it warily and your body stiffened as you tried to sit more upright, “What does that do?”
“It’s a suction toy. It goes over your clit.” Neteyam explained while Lo’ak soothed your nerves with some gentle hushing. Stroking a hand over one of your parted thighs, Neteyam reassured you, “If you’re not enjoying it, let me know and we can stop, OK?”
Relaxing back into the position Lo’ak had put you in against him, you nodded in consent. At this moment, you really just wanted to be touched again.
As if hearing your thoughts, Lo’ak’s hands shifted to your breasts, caressing the soft flesh and toying with your nipples again. Your back arched into his hands and he chuckled by your ear. You felt Neteyam place the gold toy carefully between your legs, adjusting it so he nestled neatly against your tingling clit.
With a few clicks, the toy whirred to life and your eyes flew open wide at the new sensation. It was like a pleasant and rhythmic series of tapping against you, and as Neteyam increased the intensity of it, the taps got faster and faster until it all melded into an incredible humming sensation with a delightful suction to it.
“O-Ohhh,”You sighed, your eyes sliding shut as you concentrated on the pulsing pleasure. The pleasure settled into a delightful tempo of rhythmic contractions that made your thighs quiver in Lo’ak’s hold. It was nothing like you’d ever experienced. You’d pleasured yourself and been pleasured by men before, but this was something else…
“That’s it, paskalin, just lean into it. Feel for the rhythm of it.” Neteyam coaxed, watching keenly as the muscles in your pussy began to visibly throb and squeeze. His next words were a profane curse as he palmed his straining erection with his free hand. He badly wanted to have your pussy throbbing and squeezing around his cock like that… not yet, but soon…
Lo’ak was watching through the mirror’s reflection, thoroughly enjoying the view of you whilst also relishing the way you were writhing against him with mewls and sighs. His gaze lifted to lock with his older brother’s and he grinned when you your moans began to intensify, “Let’s see what we can make of her, bro.”
Thoroughly absorbed by the building waves of ecstasy that wracked your core, you didn’t even register that Lo’ak had said anything. The bliss was unreal. You felt the smooth blunt tip of something prod at your entrance and you cracked open a lid to see Neteyam running the blue vibrator through your folds. He was watching you carefully for any sign of objection and when you didn’t give him any, he breached you slowly but surely with it.
A hoarse groan tore from your throat at the satisfying addition that filled your pussy. The pulsing and clenching between your legs intensified and just when you thought things couldn’t feel any better, Neteyam switched the vibrator on and it began to hum inside you too. Your jaw was slack and you could feel your face was contorted into a grimace of pleasure.
Neteyam began to pump the vibrator in and out in a mimicry of thrusting, and your hands flew to clutch at Lo’ak’s thighs beside you. You were only half-aware of yourself, your body suspended in what felt like a never-ending loop of thrumming ecstasy that was speeding you towards an inevitable orgasm that would tear you apart. Something else was building too amid the throbbing of your core. There was a pressure increasing behind your pelvis with each terribly torturous thrust of the vibrator within you.
The throaty sounds you were emitting now were making it very challenging for the two brothers, whose own lust had skyrocketed in the last while as they’d watched you. Both hands occupied with pleasuring you, Neteyam was caught in a cruel contradiction between wanting to see you through and also wanting to touch himself to ease some of the pressure. Meanwhile, Lo’ak was canting his hips against your lower back to find whatever friction he could.
You were so close, teetering on the precipice of blessed oblivion, but you needed more…
You squirmed, trying to shift in Lo’ak’s hold where he had a firm grip on you behind your knees, straining to reach your climax. Your speech was a stutter, your panting breaths punctuated with by whimpers, “P-Please, I want to- I need-”
“What do you need, paskalin?” Neteyam asked, swallowing the saliva that was rapidly pooling in his cheeks at the shameless sight of you, almost completely undone under what his hands were doing to you.
“Please, one of you, just fuck me already!”
There was an immediate halt in the unforgiving pleasure that had assailed you as Neteyam haphazardly flung the toys aside, crawling on all fours to reach you. However, Lo’ak was faster.
The younger brother had shifted you to lie on your side while he stretched out alongside you with your back against his front. He’d hoisted one of your legs upward bent at the knee to splay you, his hard cock poised to enter you.
Hisses and growls filled the air suddenly, startling you somewhat out of your lust-filled haze. You peered through foggy eyes to see Neteyam knelt on your right, his nose wrinkled and teeth on display in an aggressive snarl at his brother, who you could hear hissing in return by your ear.
Lo’ak let out a glacial laugh, “Don’t be like this, bro. We’ve been through this before.”
Neteyam’s response was a harsh growl and his ears were pinned flat to his skull.
Not wanting any animosity between the two brothers, you attempted to mollify them, “Hey, don’t fight, what’s wrong-”
An unimpressed scoff sounded from Lo’ak and he tightened his hold around you, “I know my brother, sweet thing. He won’t let me have you once he’s gotten his hands on you. See, you’re not the only one here who doesn’t like to share.”
Neteyam scowled but he didn’t disprove his brother’s assessment. With a resigned growl like thunder in his chest, he appeared to acquiesce so long as Lo’ak abided by one demand, “Fine, but don’t cum inside her. She’s mine.”
You saw a gleam of possession in Neteyam’s eyes and heard the covetousness in his voice. It was such outlandish behaviour from him, considering you were so accustomed to his usually placid demeanour, but his jealousy was thrilling to you. He lowered himself onto his side in front of you, propping his head up on one elbow to watch.
A shudder rippled through you when you felt Lo’ak glide his cock against your slippery entrance. You felt him reach between you to position himself and he penetrated you with a sharp thrust. Your cry of pleasure was a croaky moan that sounded in time with Lo’ak’s guttural groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched tight around his length. Your pussy fluttered around the width of him and you revelled in the delightful stretch of the feeling. Definitely bigger than the blue vibrator that had been there before…
Lo’ak set a punishing pace of thrusts and your breaths punched out of you with each one as his hips collided with yours. Through half-lidded eyes, you noted that Neteyam was surveying the pair of you with a rather tetchy countenance. Reaching out to him with the hand you weren’t lying on, you caressed his cheek, beckoning him to kiss you. You were enjoying being railed by Lo’ak, but you still wanted Neteyam too.
Neteyam indulged you and you moaned into his mouth while his tongue and lips swept against yours. The pressure at your core was mounting rapidly again and Lo’ak’s uninhibited moans, as he took his pleasure from your body, only served to spur your pleasure onward.
Through the moist melding of your lips with Neteyam’s, you took his wrist and purred a request to him, “Touch me, Neteyam.”
His fingers found the swollen nub at the apex of your thighs and he began to press and circle it in an insistent rub. Your head flopped back against Lo’ak while you whined in bliss at the addition of Neteyam’s actions.
The nagging pressure in your pelvis returned along with the burn and pulse of your pussy. You could see your anticipated ecstasy within reach, but the pressure behind your pubic bone was increasing with each of Lo’ak’s hard thrusts. It felt like an urgent and insistent need to relieve yourself all of a sudden, and it alarmed you…
Eyes flying wide, you tried to shift in Lo’ak’s hold to stop him, ““W-Wait, I need to-”
Neteyam silenced you with a kiss and he hushed you softly, “Let go, paskalin. I know it feels strange, but just go with it.”
Frantic and feeling completely out of control as your orgasm loomed, you spluttered, “It feels like I’m going to wet myself!”
You saw Neteyam’s eyes flick to his brother behind you and they must have shared a meaningful look, for instead of slowing down or being gentler, Lo’ak added a swivel to the trajectory of his hips and Neteyam’s fingers persisted in their massage against your clit.
“Let go, trust me.” Neteyam breathed over you, “Come on, Neyomi.”
You didn’t know if it was the way he’d purred your given name, or if it was just a coincidence of timing and you couldn’t bear it any longer, but you succumbed to the tidal wave of pleasure and allowed it to consume you. A piercing scream ripped from you upon the initial wave. Your entire body went rigid and your pussy contracted intensely, pushing several spurts of fluid from between your legs. You were only dimly aware of the wetness you were emitting as you enjoyed the fleeting weightlessness of your powerful climax.
“Ah, fuck!” Lo’ak pulled free of you with a guttural shout to spill outside of you and over your taut belly and hips as your orgasm has triggered his own.
His breathing was ragged now whilst he came down from his own high and with a wary glance at Neteyam, he leaned over to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, which you returned with a soft moan. He rolled away then onto his back, knowing that his brother would want his time with you now.
The keenness of your senses were slowly returning to you as you recovered from the explosive sensations you’d just experienced. All too aware now of the dampness on the bedspread beneath you, your hands flew to your face in embarrassment. What the fuck happened?... It had felt so amazing, but you’d wet yourself at the end of it…
“Great Mother, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess.” You murmured through your fingers and you scooted up the bed into a sitting position, looking mortified at the drenched patches on the bedding.
Neteyam’s husky laugh was an unexpected reaction and your round eyes regarded him in bewilderment. Even Lo’ak was chuckling away where he lay relaxing with an arm thrown over his eyes.
Neteyam pulled gently at your hands, “Look at me. You haven’t wet yourself, alright?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What you just experienced was a squirt. It doesn’t happen all the time, but it can happen with intense orgasms from rigorous stimulation.” Neteyam explained mildly, before he graced you with a devious smirk, “It was extremely arousing to witness, paskalin.”
The deepening growl of his tone set shivers tingling down your spine again and your eyes dropped to the still prominent erection in his lap. That’s right, you asked to be fucked by two brothers tonight… one down, one more to go… and this was the one your blood seemed to sing for; that your heart leapt for whenever you saw him…
You knew your skin was already flushed from the earlier activities, but you felt renewed heat tinge your cheeks as Neteyam pushed onto his knees to shuffle closer to you again. Sitting before his kneeling form, you were just at the right height to take hold of his cock. Stroking it gingerly, you placed a shy kiss on its tip and lifted your eyes to meet Neteyam’s as he stared down at you. Great Mother, you felt your pussy squeeze again at the expression he wore, which was masculine possessiveness in the best kind of way…
“Don’t get shy on me now. I’m not done with you yet.” He hissed, grimacing as you began the luscious suck and bob of your head over his swollen length, “That all you got for me? You were choking on my brother’s cock earlier.”
Lifting your gaze to his again at his goading, you perceived a familiar warmth swirling behind the covetousness in his eyes, and something warm unfurled in your chest. Neteyam’s words had been taunting, but you could see he was just teasing you. You doubled down on your effort anyway, savouring the titillating feeling of his throbbing cock in your mouth while he groaned openly.
An unexpected click and rumbling buzz caught you unawares and you stilled. You felt the bed sink a little behind you and you realised that Lo’ak had moved to place something next to you on the bed. Drawing your lips up and off Neteyam’s length, you picked up the purple wand toy you’d seen in the chest before. It rumbled temptingly in your grip and you instinctively look at Neteyam for instruction.
“On your hands and knees, but keep facing me.” He directed, “My brother can help with this toy.”
Once again, you did as you were instructed and you redirected your attention to Neteyam’s hard flesh, returning it to the moist confines of your mouth. You’d always enjoyed giving blowjobs. Men were beautiful creatures, especially the one before you now, with all his formidable strength and taut muscle. You’d always found giving them pleasure a turn-on.
You jumped when the rumbling vibrations of the wand toy skimmed up the inside of one of your thighs, drifting dangerously close to your core before it was moved away. It repeated a similar path up the inside of your other thigh before trailing downward yet again. The vibrating tip of it began its ascent again and this time you canted your hips towards it, earning a dark chuckle from Lo’ak who was clearly enjoying teasing you.
Deciding not to be cruel, Lo’ak pressed the bulbous head of the wand against your core and began to stroke it back and forth over you. Your throaty groan of pleasure was muffled and Neteyam thought to himself how alluring you looked with your eyes rolling back while your mouth was full of him. It was an image straight out of his erotic fantasies of you…
Rocking to and fro as you sucked, the delicious rumbles of the wand were deep against your sensitive flesh and your clit was throbbing under the onslaught. You could taste Neteyam’s pre-cum on your tongue and his hands had framed your face, stroking your hollowed cheeks while he slurred pledges to you of how beautiful you looked.
Lo’ak was afford an unimpeded view of your rear and your pussy, your tail curled up and away in an erotic display. He could tell from the twitching throb and clench of your muscles that your second orgasm was not far away. “She’s close, bro.”
You whimpered as Neteyam extracted himself from your mouth at his brother’s report and he bent to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you now, paskalin. Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?”
“I want to kiss you.” Your response was not quite a direct answer to his question, but it was telling enough for Neteyam to make his decision. Grasping you under your underarms, he hauled you upright onto your knees before he toppled you onto your back against the plush cushions.
Pinning you under the delightful heaviness of his muscular physique, you parted your thighs to cradle his slim hips as he positioned himself where he needed to be.
Neteyam’s handsome face was wicked and he paused to purr a filthy promise to you, “You’re going to remember me like this. Every day at work and every night in your dreams, you’re going to remember the feel of my cock inside you as I fuck you.”
Oh Eywa your work days… It was going to be a test of your composure not to let your very unprofessional behaviour not colour your professional conduct with him…
Like with his brother before, the burning stretch to fullness of him as Neteyam pushed inside you was incredibly satisfying, but it was more intimate face-to-face like this. You could watch his every expression like this as he began to thrust; his eyelids were heavy; his lips were parted, and a variation of higher-pitched whimpers and low groans were falling from him.
For Neteyam, your wet heat clutching at his cock was a staggering sensation. He felt his length throb in gratification as your pussy squeezed around him. After watching his brother fuck you and then having to wait his own turn, his own orgasm was racing towards him at a much quicker pace than he anticipated. He wanted to wring another climax from you first though…
Remembering that you’d expressed a desire to kiss him, Neteyam lowered himself onto his elbows so your front was flush with his and only his hips were canting back and forth. Nuzzling your cheek tenderly, he sealed his mouth over yours in a fervent kiss that stole your breath from you.
The hardness of his pubic bone rocked over your clit with each of his thrusts in this position, and each press of his body against yours brought you one step closer to ecstasy. These ‘steps’ weren’t a slow stroll either, they were more like a hurtling sprint. The familiar pressure within your pelvis started up again, but this time it didn’t alarm you. Every piston of Neteyam’s hips was hitting a pleasurable spot inside you that acted like a pump, building the pressure and winding it tighter and tighter.
Neteyam distractedly wondered to himself how Lo’ak had held out for as long as he did when he’d fucked you. Your core was a slippery vise around him, every thrust working his swollen cock from root to tip. His head was buried by the side of your face now as he groaned and panted. Your own cries were getting louder now, to his relief. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last…
“Fuck, paskalin, you’re driving me insane. I’m so close.” He grunted.
“Same. Keep going.” You kissed him again.
When the surge of ecstasy washed over you a second time, you relinquished your control and the pressure in your pelvis snapped with another orgasmic squirt. With your thighs cradling Neteyam’s hips and your arms raking his back, you felt him stiffen with his own climax, his thrusting becoming erratic as he roared his pleasure into the cushion under your head. A viscous heat seeped out from your core where you were still joined, a sensation that had been absent before with Lo’ak, which you now recognised was the evidence of Neteyam’s orgasm.
Adjusting himself so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight, Neteyam rolled onto his side. He tittered naughtily then and his grin was smug, “I told you I’d make you come. Welcome to the love shack.”
Recalling your foot-in-mouth innuendo from the previous night, you rolled your eyes and giggled, “Great Mother, who would’ve guessed that underneath the well-mannered gentleman that you’re such a wild beast.”
Warm skin enveloped your other side as Lo’ak shifted closer to join you, throwing a leg over one of yours and tangling you to him. He murmured by your temple when he placed a kiss there, “Think you’ll swing by again, sweet thing?”
Tilting your head back and craning your neck upward, you gave Lo’ak a deep kiss before turning to do the same to Neteyam, “Only if I can have you both to myself again.”
Lo’ak smirked, bending to kiss and nip at a gradually peaking nipple while Neteyam ran a hot hand down your torso to slip his fingers through your folds, slick with a combination of your own wetness and his seed. You could feel their cocks hardening again where they were pressed to either side of your hips.
By Eywa, stamina as well as skill? No wonder the women kept returning…
Neteyam eyed you and his response was a salacious murmur, “I believe that can be arranged, paskalin.”
PART III - Blurring Lines HERE
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Author's Note: I'm quite sure this is filthiest piece I've ever written... 🫣I don't know how I pulled almost 7.5k of sexy stuff out of my brain, but I hope you all FELT this in all the right ways and all the right places... Three cheers for our two boys Neteyam & Lo'ak!! Woot woot! Thanks for reading this! Leave me a comment, I'd love to hear from you and thanks for all your likes and reblogs too! 😘
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yunymphs · 3 months
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𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ✘ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
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❤︎ synopsis: cheers to decorating your home with holiday charm with the only person who refuses to celebrate (your arranged husband, gojo satoru!) ❤︎ pairing: arranged husband!gojo satoru x fem!reader ❤︎ warnings: none ! ❤︎ wc: 1.7k ❤︎ authors note: HAI GUYS 💌 tagging: @i-likebread @driaswrld @luv-gin @darlingimawitch @sad-darksoul @r0ckst4rjk @elusivemoon
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gojo satoru has no idea why you have all of this stuff.
he watches as your frame struggles to drag cardboard boxes down the stairs all alone. his arms are draped by the column at the bottom of the staircase, and gojo chuckles at the sight of you struggling as much as you are.
"you know, i'd really appreciate some help." you mutter under your breath, nearly toppling over the boxes in your arm during your descend down the last few steps.
"nah, look, you're almost there, princess," gojo snickers, "you're doing so well."
if not for the boxes blocking your view, you would've sent him a dangerous glare.
you'll smack him next time, you're sure of it.
by some miracle, the house feels cozier. maybe it's the warm sweater that hugs your upper half, the fuzzy socks that help you slide across the hardwood with the boxes in your arms, or simply the idea that things are getting better with you and your arranged husband. there have been a few more advances between the two of you, such as sharing the same toothbrush cup holder and doing loads of laundry together in the same loads, and the most recent edition: making dinner together. in the past, he always complained that you got in the way in the kitchen, disrupting the harmony of his cooking routine. but recently, he doesn't comment on it.
that's something isn't it?
your husband feels warmer too. he's still an asshole as ever, but he feels different than before. you don't expect him to know it, but the house holds almost lovers this year. playing the role of husband and wife come a little too naturally, and sometimes you have to remind yourself that none of it is real. you constantly insist there's no way he's falling for you. arranged marriages are like child's play for him. the chance of love blossoming between the two of you is almost like the sight of greenery sprouting from cracks of concrete: inconsistent and irresponsible.
"i really don't understand why you have all of these things." gojo looms behind you, watching your movements as you open the storage box to reveal the overwhelming scent of old cardboard and dusted silver and blue ornaments.
your boxes rest on the coffee table in the center. helping his arranged wife to decorate her house in wintery decor was definitely not on his bucket list this year, but he doesn't complain. you miss the way gojo's eyes light up at the sight of the treasures inside. he peers over your shoulder like a curious cat, his large hand reaching inside the box to take out an oddly speckled silver ornament.
"me neither," you laugh, "i think the holidays is just an excuse for me to decorate my house."
which wasn't entirely false.
"but why decorate if you have to take it all down next month anyways?" your husband antagonizes, "wouldn't this just be more work to clean up later?"
needless to say, he's never gotten the whole holiday hype. other than the fact christmas pop songs begin playing in the grocery store and an arrangement of oddly flavored candy canes begin popping up near the checkout lines, the holiday season doesn't really exist to him outside of it's usual marketing. the winter holidays had really turned into an entire culture, and he was the only one who didn't seem to be taking part in it. what was the point of ruining the sleek, modern appearance of the house interior for a mere month seasonal experience? or perhaps he didn't like maximalist styles.
either way, gojo didn't understand it.
"it is hard to clean up after," you reply, "but, i like to enjoy the festive season."
gojo gives an uninterested hum in response as you shuffle through your collection of fake candy canes and peppermints, velvet stockings, and ribbons in the shade soft shell.
"you can enjoy it alone." he spits bitterly.
"come on, satoru, you might find you like it," you bargain, gazing at him, "besides, i do need help getting the tree up. it's kind of heavy."
your husband gives an exasperated sigh before trotting to your side. after a good haul, he seems almost proud of himself for helping you. he stomps back to the ornaments like a manchild, trying to hide the fondness that shakes his heart. you hear a jingle against the ornaments, an indication that he went back to curiously digging through the pile.
"did you ever celebrate christmas at home, satoru?" you ask, gazing up at him as he runs his calloused thumb along the elaborate glitter textures of a peppermint decoration.
"no, i didn't," your husband sighs, voice much gentler, "my parents weren't really around during the holidays. they were always just... on work trips to celebrate christmas elsewhere. it was only me during christmas."
your movements pause, and you turn to face him. your husband clears his throat, as if only now realizing how much of his past lacked warmth twenty years later. you don't blame him at all for his experience... your family was similar to his own. when you're born expected to become a company heir rather than your parent's pride and joy, you realize that your life is already predetermined, a timeline you have no chance of breaking out of.
without even realizing the implications, your hand gently comes up to rest on gojo's wrist. he's avoiding your gaze, and you can tell that these types of vulnerable conversations are something he steers clear from. he tries to ignore how your gentle hand resting on his wrist makes his worm-eaten heart tingle. your palm is so warm. he seems to forget that you're his wife now, even if it's an arranged marriage.
"hey, i'm glad you told me," you begin, "but it's okay now, right? we'll decorate our house every year and do little holiday things together."
"our house...?"
the notion that your space would soon become something the two of you shared rather than a place he just happened to live made his heart feel warm.
why are you doing this? why are you being so kind to him?
"of course, our house," you insist with a smile, trying to lighten the mood as the two of you unpack the decorations.
he's quiet, watching you with adoring eyes as you go through the decorations and begin to hang up the stockings near the fireplace. gojo wonders what it would be like living a life where he decorated a christmas tree for fun or made cookies during the middle of the night for santa. would this life be any different if it meant watching the person he's married to glimmer in the string lights as she sets up sparkling ornaments?
your eyes are a pool of moonlight over water, reflecting his own feelings without realizing it. do you know that he's scared of all of this too? do you know what happens to people who fall in love when they aren't supposed to?
"our house," you suddenly repeat, "well, that is if you stop being so damn insufferable all the time."
"oh please, you love me," gojo chuckles playfully, "don't you like hanging out with me?"
for the first time, he's having... fun. being here with you is fun, decorating the house with you is fun.
"you're okay." you chuckle, purposefully pushing him off the edge.
"i'm just OK?" gojo asks incredulously. "just OK?!" he pouts, leaning back against the wall again. he's messing with you, of course.
despite only marrying you for financial gain and giving his company legacy a leg up, he's almost afraid he's becoming too fond of someone as sweet as you. gojo watches as you snip the white ribbon, delicately wrapping it around the tree. every movement of yours is so calculated and precise, and part of him wants to go over and tug at the ribbon like a naughty cat.
he refrains, just this once.
"well, i think you're quite pleasant company," gojo speaks lowly, moving to your side to place a sapphire-colored ornament on the tree. you can tell he's waiting for your reaction.
"i think you are too, especially when you aren't being a pain in the ass," you chuckle, trying to hide the way your voice trembles from his flirty compliment.
your husband scoffs, gently nudging you with his shoulder, "pain in your ass? i would never do such a thing."
you try to dismiss the way his hand gently brushes yours when you realize you both tried to put an ornament on the same spot on the tree, or how butterflies erupt from your stomach, clogging your throat with dry, pattering wings when gojo catches you sneaking glances his way. he's not any better himself with the way he immediately peels apart the top two buttons of his button up with nimble fingers. a light glimmer of sweat can be seen on his forehead.
does the room feel hot because of all the movement from decorating or is it because you're in here?
gojo feels something close to happy after the two of you finish decorating. his eyes follow the shimmering tree topper and the lavish silk ribbons falling in flowing rhythm. he spots his own reflection in the silver ornaments, and every twinkle of glitter beams at him proudly.
you playfully nudge his side, "not bad for a first timer."
"not bad?" your husband taunts, "you know, i'm good at a lot of other things too."
"what exactly are you referring to?" you reply, arms crossed over your chest as you stare up at the bastard in front of you.
"nothing in particular," gojo chuckles, "it's just i could..." his face is met with the designated sofa throw pillow before the words can get out.
you're ridiculous and frustrating, but every time you push him away he pulls back even stronger than before. you turn your heel, walking to the kitchen to put some distance between you and the devil himself, only for him to give a boyish laugh and go after you. the tree is beautifully decorated, the house feels warm, and everything feels right. you smile when he runs after you, as if he's a contagious little bug you'll never be able to rid of.
he smiles.
it's a genuine smile.
gojo has already decided that next year, he'll buy you red ornaments for the tree.
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joelsgreys · 1 year
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lean on me
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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series masterlist
summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.
pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.
September, 2020
Joel had known things would get bad.
But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.
He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”
Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 
She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”
“Tess—”
“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”
Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 
You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 
You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 
“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”
“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”
“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”
He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”
“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”
“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.
“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”
“Tess, I’ve tried—”
“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”
She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”
He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.
After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.
“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”
Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”
Joel’s expression immediately softened.
Fuck. 
He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.
“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”
You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.
Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 
He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”
“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”
“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”
You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”
“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 
“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”
For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 
He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.
Because you were absolutely fucking right.
None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 
And what could he do about it?
Not a goddamn fucking thing.
Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 
He could have done more. 
He should have done more.
Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 
Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”
Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 
And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.
“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”
You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”
“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 
Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.
“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 
You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”
Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”
“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”
“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.
He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 
A single white pearl hung from the chain. 
“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”
You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”
He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”
Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”
You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”
“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.
Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”
“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.
It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 
Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 
“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.
He wanted to see the baby.
“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”
Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”
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luminnara · 15 days
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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)
PART ONE
Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.
MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!
Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang
Word count: 4.6k
Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye
Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25
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It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.
“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.
“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.
Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.
“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.
“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.
You returned it.
As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.
You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.
Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?
You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.
Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.
Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.
How strange the wheel of fate was.
“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.
“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.
“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.
“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”
“I do not look Harkonnen.”
“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.
“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.
You did not know if you wanted that to happen.
You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.
You hoped today would be no exception.
“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”
“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”
You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.
When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.
You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.
He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.
Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.
“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.
One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.
Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.
It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.
This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.
Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.
“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”
Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.
When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.
“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.
“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.
“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”
He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.
As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.
When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.
His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.
And you enjoyed being caught.
“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.
He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.
Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.
She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.
“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”
You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.
His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.
But he wouldn’t kill you.
You were his.
And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.
As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.
“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.
“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.
He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.
Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.
“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”
You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.
He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.
“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”
You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.
Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.
You did not care.
You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.
He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”
Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.
How strange, the things you appreciated now.
-0-
“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.
You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”
“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.
He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.
“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.
His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”
“I know, but—“
“I was worried.”
His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.
“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.
“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”
“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”
“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”
“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.
“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”
“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”
“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”
“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”
“You are a target.”
“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“
“Feyd.” He growled.
“Wh-what?”
“Call. Me. Feyd.”
You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”
“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”
He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.
“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”
Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.
“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.
He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”
“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”
You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”
He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”
His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.
“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”
“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.
He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”
“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.
“Am I?”
“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.
A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”
“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”
Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.
“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.
“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”
“Answer me,” he purred, amused.
“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.
“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.
And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.
As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.
“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.
Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.
“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”
Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.
“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.
Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.
“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.
“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.
“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”
And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.
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kakushino · 8 months
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Burden... or asset?
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Uzui Tengen x Fem! Reader
Tengen recieves a crow telling him some bad news.
Tags: angst, self-worth issues, fluff, orgy, aftercare, sub reader, sub Makio, soft dom Hinatsuru, mean-ish dom Suma Word count: 14,2k
Masterlist | Part 1
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A crow came flying just as you were leaving the estate for your date. The grimace on Tengen's face signified bad news arrived, a slip of paper in his hands.
"What is it?"
"My… best buddy is in the Butterfly Mansion. Run-in with an Upper Moon."
Since you came back, he'd told you all about his current occupation and standing in the corps. It was fascinating. You’d been removed from the so-called ‘world news’ due to your Mission, so it all came as a surprise. It was also curious how you’d never run into a demon before. 
“We can cancel our date. You must be worried…” you offered, taking his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tengen still looked torn. “If you want, I can go with you?” 
And so, your time together was cut short - he took you in his arms and rushed off with an urgency you hadn’t seen since you came home.
The room in Butterfly mansion was decorated with origami cranes; there was a vase with fresh flowers at the bedside. The man, who you came to see, laid on the sick bed and had hair like dancing flames, though partially hidden by bandages. The whole room might have smelled like disinfectant but the overall feel of it was homey, cozy, lived-in; a very colorful display - flashy and flamboyant.
“Well, well, well - look at you. The white of the bandages does bring out your eyes. Maybe you should wear them more often,” Tengen said in a teasing tone, voice a little thick despite his bravado. 
His best buddy smiled broadly. “That’s why I wore the white haori, Tengen. It has always flattered us Rengoku men, hasn’t it?” The volume of his speech could barely count as an inside voice; it reminded you a little of your half-deaf grandma, back when she was alive. Perhaps he’d sustained an injury of sorts… 
You would be the last person to judge him for that.
Tengen sat heavily on the chair next to his bed as if he carried a crushing burden on his back, while you lingered a few feet behind him, feeling like you shouldn’t be here.
“I’m glad you’re alive. I came as soon as I heard… Though you left for that Train over a week ago. What delayed the news?” 
“Shinobu told only my father and brother at first, said I needed the quiet and space - even though I was unconscious! Though apparently, that was pretty bad!” he smiled brightly, as if he weren't in critical condition just a few days prior. The bandage over his eye, half his head and torso down to his abdomen sounded more than pretty bad to you. “Senjuro came to visit me while I was out of it… Though I wish he didn’t have to see me in such a pitiful state.”
Tengen huffed in amusement, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You are certainly a sore sight for my flamboyant eyes, Kyojuro.” The movement revealed your form to the injured man.
He glanced towards you. “And who is this beautiful lady with you?”
Tengen smiled brightly. "Right - Kyojuro, this is Uzui [Name], my first wife. [Name], this is Rengoku Kyojuro, the flame Hashira."
"Ex," Kyojuro interrupted. "I guess I was hurt pretty badly! Shinobu told me I'm no longer in any fighting condition." 
You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, for it was a question you, yourself, were struggling with. "What will you do now? If you don't mind me asking…" What will I do? How can I channel my energy? 
“[Name],” Tengen turned to you, eyes narrowed. He seemed displeased with your question, as if he weren’t wondering the same thing in his mind.
Kyojuro smiled brightly, completely at ease despite your intrusive question. "Why, I’ll do as all retired Hashira do - train new slayers. Perhaps I shall find an inheritor of Flame Breathing as well!" The optimism this man had was unreal.
The conversation faded into a background noise. Train new slayers, he said. You didn’t want to train new shinobi. You’d thought about getting into wifely hobbies, but that only filled your idle hands; not your mind nor stamina nor skills were being put to use, and it was frustrating to say the least. You itched for some action, despite what had happened during your last so-called action.
“-be discharged in about two weeks. Shinobu is assigning a nurse for me until I’m all healed up! And Senjuro will keep me company as well!” The loud and enthusiastic voice of the retired Hashira broke through your thoughts at last.
Tengen glanced at you for a moment, before he faced Kyojuro. “[Name] could help out too. I’ll be going on a mission soon.”
You shot him a sharp look. This was news to you. And rude to offer your company without consulting you first.
“My other wives haven’t sent any messages the past week. Something must have happened, and I need to find out what,” he said in a hush, all traces of good mood gone from his face. 
Your heart clenched. He was willing to go for the others when he lost contact. He didn’t just simply assume they were lost. You weren’t sure how you wanted to think about this, how to feel about this. You buried your emotions before they had the chance to surface.
“I see. That is important indeed. Wouldn’t it be better if you took [Name] along though?” Kyojuro looked at you, tilting his head slightly. “You both could work together to collect your wives! Like a date! But a bit more dangerous.”
You pressed your lips together tightly. That was a good question. Why did he not want to take you with him? You’d gained back the lost weight and filled out to your previous body shape. You’d kept up a light work-out regime to get back where you were before the last grueling months at the Mission. Did he not trust your skills anymore? You clenched your fists.
Tengen shook his head, the beads on his headband clinking together. “It would be better for her to stay. My wives were investigating an Upper Moon sighting in an entertainment district. Losing contact is more than bad news.” 
Why was he talking as if you weren’t there? You weren't just a breeze, nor were you a doll to be set aside when inconvenient nor were you a painting, to be displayed and kept at home. You were a warrior - a warrior who had the same amount of experience as him. How dare he?
“I’m here, you know? You could have just turned to me and asked. If it’s a red district then my aid would be more valuable - especially to find out about Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio’s whereabouts,” you finally spoke up, your voice flat. “If you remember, my skills lie in espionage, Tengen.” 
There was a slight flush on his ears at your scolding. “You’ve never fought demons before, and that’s why you’ll stay and help out Kyojuro. I’ve got things handled.” 
"I'm not made of glass. If those three can help you, why can't I?" 
"Of course I know you're not made of glass. May I remind you glass wouldn't be able to take my co-"
"Stop," you interrupted Tengen, your face feeling hot. Kyojuro had been watching the two of you escalate the argument, lone eye going back and forth as if he were watching children play with a temari ball. "First of all, this is no time to joke around. Your wives are in danger, our wives-" You were still a little mad he'd gone through a mutually binding sort of marriage, making you the wife of Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio as well. "Second, you know me, you know my skills. You know I can help and that I'm willing to help, despite what happened when I came back-"
"That's a low blow and you know it. I thought you were dead. You forgave me alrea-"
"Shut up while I'm talking, Tengen!" Your chest heaved with your rapid breathing, anger nearly taking over.
Your husband was in no better condition; he used his size to loom over you, trying to intimidate you into submission. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, somewhat more intense than usual. His eyes were slightly lidded but his expression impassive; it was hard to tell if he was aroused, as he used to when you were having an argument in your teenage years, or truly angry.
“You can’t just put me on a shelf like a pretty housewife. You need my help. Admit it-” 
“You’re staying and that’s final!” Tengen suddenly shouted, making you flinch. You took a quick step back from him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes were wild, jaw clenched, muscles tensed. “You’d be nothing but a burden.” 
You froze, breath stuttering in your chest. 
He sidestepped you and left the room. 
Nothing but a burden.
You’d been nothing but a burden since you reappeared in his life, haven’t you? You crushed his heart, destroyed his home, and you had yet to prove you were worth the complications arising from your presence. 
So despite his continuous reassurances, this was how he truly felt…
“[Name]?” 
You looked at Kyojuro, his worried expression saying it all. “I’m alright, I just-” your voice broke and you wiped your tears quickly. You hadn’t even noticed when they started falling. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.” 
He waved you off with a dim smile. “You’re absolutely fine. It’s my first time seeing my best buddy like this, but all I can say is that it’s not your fault. It was me who stoked the flames when I should have left the matter be, and for that I deeply apologize. If I could, I’d bow to you.” Kyojuro laughed awkwardly before wincing and putting a hand on his abdomen.
All thoughts of Tengen flew out of your head as you stepped closer. “Hey, hey, easy… I think you shouldn’t laugh until that wound is all healed up.” Your belly scar throbbed at the thought of what the former pillar is going through. “Do you need me to call a nurse? Do you need any painkillers?” you fussed over him, sympathizing deeply with his pain.
A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face as he grimaced. “I think I’m fine. I just need to Breathe a little… Would you keep me company in the meantime?” He gestured to the chair right by his bed.
You hesitantly sat down. "Alright, Rengoku-san."
His smile made you feel at ease. "Excellent. Let me tell you about that one time Tengen and I…."
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Tengen left. 
He left you there with Kyojuro and went on the mission in the same breath. It hurt more than perhaps his words.
Nothing but a burden.
“Good afternoon, Rengoku-san,” you greeted the man with a smile. 
“Good afternoon, Uzui-chan!” he beamed at you. “The Gods have given us the best kind of weather to walk home in, wouldn’t you agree?”
Your mind flashed to the wagon you would be transporting him in. A walk, right… You were given instructions by Shinobu to sedate him if need be. “That is true, and please, call me [Name].”
Kyojuro was already slowly shuffling out of the covers. “Then you may call me by my given name as well! I’m so excited to get home.” His wide smile was infectious, the black eye-patch doing nothing to diminish his bright expression.
Warmth spread through your chest as you helped him to his feet. Kyojuro was such a positive soul; despite your dark thoughts, you never felt lesser with him. You would love to become his close friend, if he’d let you.
“Alright, let’s get you to the cart. Aoi and the girls already packed up all the origami and dried flowers you wanted with you.” You supported him as you walked through the halls of the Butterfly mansion.
“Thanks, for everything. Your presence during my days of recovery cured me of my boredom,” he said quietly, surprising you that he even knew how to talk in such low tones. Perhaps he realized shouting nearby sick rooms of other patients was not polite.
“It was no problem. I enjoyed my time with you.” You two walked out of the mansion. He leaned against a wooden pillar as you knelt at his feet to put on his sandals. 
“I apologize you have to serve me like this.” Kyojuro seemed embarrassed. 
You shook your head with a smile. “It’s quite alright. Soon enough, you’ll be able to do it yourself!” You tried to be as positive as he was, making him smile slightly. “Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you looked at him shyly, face feeling hot.
Kyojuro just beamed at you. “Good thing you’re the kind of friend who helps instead, hm?”
Relief flooded your lungs, allowing you to take a deep breath. “Of course! Now let’s get you home!”
Pushing the cart loaded with a recovering Hashira and thousands of colorful stuff he wanted with him was quite the work-out you haven’t anticipated. The kakushi responsible for such had been called away on an urgent clean-up of a battle scene, and Shinobu personally asked you to do it, so you couldn’t refuse. At least he kept up a pleasant conversation on the way to the Rengoku estate.
A mini-version of Kyojuro was sweeping by the gate when you arrived. You tilted your head, studying him.
“Little brother!” 
The boy looked up and smiled brightly, quickly running over, letting go of the broom. “Big brother!” He clutched at the side of the wagon, glancing over the bandages Kyojuro still wore around his torso. “Father wouldn’t let me go see you since you woke up.”
Kyojuro’s smile was like the Sun, if you looked for too long, your eyes would tear up. You had to turn away from the intimate scene, one you weren’t worthy to witness. Why were you even there? 
"Senjuro, this is [Name], Tengen's wife. [Name], meet my younger brother, Senjuro," Kyojuro drew your attention back, as if sensing you felt left out.
Senjuro bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kyojuro’s younger brother. Thank you for bringing him home.”
"Why don't you come in for a while? You need rest after such a long journey," Kyojuro offered, already trying to get out of the wagon unassisted, prompting you to move forward to help.
You smiled. “Okay, but only for a little.”
The day wore on, pleasant conversation lulling time into a background blur as you got to know both young men more. Tea was served, then dinner. Your belly hurt from laughter, and your cheeks might as well have been stuck in a permanent grin. 
Golden light washed over all three of you as you sat by the engawa, the two little Suns with you glowing in the true setting star. 
"Might as well stay the night. The road to Uzui home is long." 
Senjuro brightened at the suggestion. “Yes, stay with us! I’ll go prepare a room for you, big sis!” He ran off too quickly for you to react to the bomb he dropped on you. Big sis was a name you’d never heard in your life, yet it made blood rush to your face as Kyojuro laughed, clutching at his stomach immediately after as pain flared from his wound.
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Analyze the situation, as you were taught to do while being a shinobi - a kunoichi. Yet you could not take a step back from the emotional turmoil in the stuffy room you were given, and so the full moon saw you sitting on the engawa of the Rengoku estate, nothing and everything flitting through your mind’s eye.
You were alone.
The night felt cold, as if you could never see the Sun again. 
Light breeze fluffed your hair, calming the whirlwind within for scarcely a second. 
A door slid open. The light clack of a cane told you who exactly it was.
“You’re supposed to be resting, Kyojuro-san,” you murmured, not looking at him.
“I’m not that old to be resting all the time, [Name]-san.” You could nearly hear the grin in his voice. A heavy grunt accompanied his warmth appearing at your side. 
“Well, you are still healing. And you might pull a muscle or something.” A smile appeared on your face, the banter distracting you a little. 
“Oh, you just know how to kick a man while he’s down.” Kyojuro chuckled, the deep sound reverberating in your bones. “I don’t deserve your teasing, you know?”
“...that is true.” Your smile dimmed a little. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so familiar with him. He was your husband’s best friend, though Kyojuro made you feel so comfortable, so warm - something you didn’t deserve to be, especially when Tengen was out there, in danger, alone.
He was on a hunt for an Upper Moon demon. And you were there sitting on the engawa, doing nothing - when you could have been there, helping.
Nothing but a burden.
“I don’t want to be a burden, Kyojuro-san. I want to be an asset,” you confessed, staring into the darkness, so alike to the one you held inside your heart. You wanted to be cleansed, to be free at last.
And he knew just how to help you. “You know, the next Final Selection is in a week.” Kyojuro grinned. “It would usually be impossible for a normal participant to get ready in a week… You were a shinobi though, weren’t you? Do you know how to wield a blade?”
You nodded eagerly, your hair falling into your face.
“Sit with me then, I will teach you all there is to know about Total Concentration Breathing, [Name].”
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“When did you intend to tell us you had a wife before us?” Suma asked, as gently as she could, after exchanging so many glances with the other two as they walked to the Butterfly estate.
The question shouldn’t have caught him off guard; he was actually surprised they didn’t press when [Name] had arrived back into his life, but now wasn’t the time to press this issue. He was dying from demon’s poison not an hour ago, he was exhausted, and Obanai’s late arrival did nothing to alleviate his bad mood. 
“I was going to tell you…” Tengen sighed. “I was going to tell you once it stopped hurting.” His heart clenched at the thought of her gone, disappeared, dea- “I didn’t know she’d come back.” He faced the sky, the sun too bright against his lone eye - he now matched with his best buddy, he thought wryly - trying to swallow back his tears. 
He didn’t deserve to cry about this, about her. He’d doomed her before he confirmed it himself. In a way, he had tried to redeem himself by how he treated his new wives, but he now saw the error of his ways. No amount of- whatever he was doing right now could have erased his guilt now that he knew she was alive all along. And that hurt more than anything.
The thought that he failed her destroyed him on the inside. Each day he saw her after she came back was agony. When she showed him her scars, he wanted to die, to rip his heart out of his chest and offer it, still beating, as compensation for the horrors she had to live through. And yet… it would not be enough, it would never be enough.
“Tengen-sama…” came Hina’s soothing voice. “We understand it must have been painful, but now that she is here, we need to know more.” 
There was a lump in his throat, making it hard to swallow past the emotions and memories resurfacing. Tears pooled in both his eyes, making him wince when the salty liquid touched the wound on his left one. All that ran through his mind when the pain registered was that it was just a fraction of what she felt while she was away on that Gods forsaken Mission.
“We’d met when we were thirteen… still kids but you know how it is in the shinobi world,” he started hoarsely. “It wasn’t long before we started to fall… I saved up all my money and bought the mansion we live in to this day.” 
There is one room you can’t enter, under any circumstances, okay?
It was her room, all three realized at the same time, sharing looks.
“It was foolish of us to marry, but I would have done it again. The short time we were truly together was worth it… She was actually engaged when we did it. Forbidden love at its finest.” Tengen’s eye glazed over as he stared ahead, lost in what used to be. He had been happy, both of them had been so happy despite the circumstances. They talked about starting a family, about quitting the life of a shinobi, about running away and never looking back. That kind of thinking bit both of them in the ass very quickly. “Her family was more… displeased than mine. She’d been sent on a suicide mission, though at the time, I had no clue it was that. By the time I found out, she was gone, and I was alone.”
And yet, she’d done the impossible - she came back whole, in one piece, at least physically. [Name] had no reaction to the silk yukata he gave her though, and that bothered him deeply. The bolts of turtle shell patterned fabric had been his wedding gift to her, it had been their hope, their promise, to swathe their first child in it. After her disappearance, it laid abandoned in her room. He couldn’t bear to enter it for years upon years, grieving yet in denial. He wasn't able to fully accept her death, to even think about her at all without weeping like a child.
Perhaps it was fate then, that after young Kamado’s trial, he’d commissioned a seamstress to make a yukata out of the would-be child's fabric on a whim. He wanted to hang it up, decorate the bedroom with it - a reminder and a remembrance, a threat and a promise, to never let any of his wives slip through his fingers like water. 
Tengen was blessed though, with your life, he was blessed and he-
Nothing but a burden.
He would never call himself an asshole - would have never called himself one - until you, until that, until he called you a burden.
Gods, he deserved death for that. He never should have uttered those words. How hard he tried to reassure you, to ease you back into being home, to let you slide into comfort and abandon the high-alertness that came with any mission; night terrors woke the both of you in the silence of many dark nights - memories, would-bes, and thoughts plaguing the conscious and unconscious hours of your days.
Tengen had called you nothing but a burden, the words weighing him down now, making him stop and stare into nothingness, a chasm opening in his chest at the realization that no amount of comfort could have prepared you for this, he'd hurt you, broke your trust yet again, using your insecurities against you. 
He had no excuse - sans one. He was scared, driven mad by the thought of losing you again and this time - under his watch. He was worried he couldn't protect you as he had sworn all those years ago. 
And now he was the one who hurt you - the only person, who he couldn't protect you from, was himself.
Tengen was the God of Fuck ups, not Festivals.
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As shinobi, loyalty was situational; whoever paid the most got it, and whoever couldn’t pay got dealt with. 
As a slayer, your one and only loyalty was to humans. No demon should be allowed to live - minus Nezuko - and you planned to make good on those words. 
You walked out of the wisteria forest on the seventh day, exhausted, but victorious. You’d been worried about it, since Tengen made even the lowest of demons out to be strong enough to rip you to shreds. That proved to be true - for most humans. You saw a few fresh blood puddles of where the other participants used to be throughout the week. All you could do was offer a quick and silent prayer and move on. The demons you yourself encountered were no match for your skill, though the borrowed half-nichirin half-iron wakizashi wasn’t your usual choice of weapon as a fighter, as a shinobi.
It was time to put such thoughts and memories behind you, move onto better and bigger things. 
This time around, ten people managed to pass the Final Selection, including you, though you were by far the oldest. That was fine. Even if you spent only a year, a month, a week before you perished in the line of duty, even if you helped only one person, it was worth it. Suffering was worth it.
It was atonement for a lifetime of dirty deeds under the mantle of the title Shinobi. The whole weight of it was on your back, nearly breaking your spine. But you would endure. That's what's owed to humanity after you tainted it with your deeds in the dark.
Another side of you whispered, you’re still as black as you were before, you can’t find salvation, you are selfish to the core. 
And the side was right.
Because your motivation didn’t lie entirely in saving humans, it laid in proving your husband wrong, in showing him you were an asset, never a burden.
You wanted to stand by his side and take on missions together - like how it was always meant to be. Tengen and you, against the world.
“Welcome home, dear student.” Kyojuro’s greeting warmed you to the marrow of your bones. 
“I’m home, master.” You grinned at him, and limped over to give him a hug, neither of you minding the dirt and stink of the road. 
“Congratulations on becoming a slayer. I’m proud of you.” 
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By the time your husband and wives were on their way back from Butterfly mansion, you had already stopped limping. You didn't stop training your Breathing in the meantime, trying to achieve using it non-stop as you waited for the arrival of your Nichirin sword.
The house was clean, snacks were prepared, and you found yourself sitting on the porch. Your stomach was full of butterflies, excited as you were to see Tengen again, though you were also a little nervous - you hoped Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru would grow to like you and for that, you needed to give a good impression.
You wore the silk yukata with a turtle shell pattern, an earthy green obi tying it together. You hoped you were flashy enough for everyone, though Tengen gave you the yukata so it must be flashy enough… Maybe you should have changed into something more colorful. 
Tengen’s laughter echoed down the road.
Fuck. It’s too late to change. Is my hair messy? Gods, I should have checked-
The gate opened and you shot to your feet, straightening out your yukata in a panic.
Wine red eyes- no, wine red eye stared back at you, an eyepatch covering the other one. Your breath was nearly knocked out of you as you took in your husband. You knew he’d lost his eye and his left hand but reading about it in a letter and seeing it in person were two entirely different things.
You couldn’t stop your legs as you nearly ran to him, jumping into his arms, clutching onto him tightly as tears fell and stained his yukata. You had thought about what you wanted to tell him once he came home, but now that he was here - your mind became blank. You couldn’t think of anything to say, not when he was there, his scent and warmth filling you up in a way air and food couldn’t.
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes seemed like hours.
At last, you said, “Welcome home,” in a choked whisper as you calmed yourself a little.
“I’m home.” His voice was near silent; if you hadn’t been so close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
What a way to greet him after such a mission- Oh! You completely forgot about the wives!
You slowly pulled back, face feeling hot with shame when you took a step back, quickly wiping away your tears.
You bowed a little. “It’s nice to meet you again. I’m Uzui [Name]... your wife.” Your face was flushed and your hands trembled. “I hope we can get along.”
Suma was the first one to break; she nearly pounced on you, hugging you and swinging you around in a circle. You marveled at her strength as you held on for your life, laughing in delight. 
A deft hand flew over your head and hit Suma, who nearly immediately dropped you - the momentum making you stumble back into a warm pair of arms and a very soft chest. It was Hinatsuru who caught you. “Are you alright?”
You regained your bearing, pulling away. “Yes, thank you. Are they-” 
Makio was yelling at Suma, who was clinging to Tengen with crocodile tears streaming down her face. 
“Uhm, is this the Uzui residence?”
Like moths to a flame, all of you looked to the still-open gate, where a kakushi stood. They had a - your heart skipped a beat - covered katana on their back. 
You walked forward, smiling. “Yes, it is, kakushi-san.” You felt light, happy. Your Nichirin sword was finally here.
They bowed to you. “Uzui [Name], I presume?” They took the case off their back and presented it to you. 
Your hands shook a little when you slid the cloth off of the sword. The scabbard was black, the grip a burnt orange, the guard in the shape of a flame, reminiscent of the one Kyojuro used to have. Your smile widened, cheeks near burning from the stretch; he must have told his artisan to make it for you. 
It seemed the world held its breath for you as you drew the blade.
An ordinary steel greeted you before color bled into it, as if it were your blood fueling it. 
A dark gold reflected the rays of the sun before it hid behind a cloud. 
Your wives spewed congratulations after congratulations as you stared at your sword with joy. You felt as if you could soar. You laughed in delight as you sheathed the blade, hugging the kakushi, who blushed deeply underneath their mask, and then each of your wives. Happiness flowed in your veins, as golden as the sun, the flames, and the katana.
You Breathed fire. You were beautiful. You were powerful. You felt on top of the world, a goddess sent down to smite the evils of this world.
All this thanks to a single dark gold blade, your very own Nichirin sword.
Tengen could only stare at the scene in front of him, dazed.
He’d left you at home in hopes of saving you, of protecting you from danger he faced every day he went to hunt demons. The katana in your hand indicated he failed, and oh how miserably did he fail.
Did you do this to punish him? Is this your revenge? Retribution for the atrocity of taking more wives? 
Nothing but a burden.
Did you truly believe his words - the ones he so stupidly uttered in a moment of madness in that sick room? He didn’t mean them, he never meant them. He knew you were more than useful, you were an asset in every way and form imaginable. Tengen was just scared, so fucking scared of losing you - especially losing you under his watch when he’d just gotten you back. 
Fuck.
Did you… consider him unworthy of protecting you? Is that why you sought to become a slayer? To get your own blade and stand apart from him?
Was it a declaration of war on him?
Thousand men may die if so. He never, never meant for this to happen.
And Tengen would find no peace until he got to the bottom of this.
Raindrops fell one by one, creating a harmony of nature. A contrast to the whirlwind of emotions in his heart.
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The light drizzle of the afternoon evolved into a lightning storm by the time the sun hid behind the mountains. You were glad there was no tree close enough to attract the lightning or to fall on the Uzui house, or you were sure there would be a big problem on your hands.
The tea room you sat in had been unused for months, clearly, as you had to wipe off some dust off the low table before you could use it. The pillows were clean, which was a blessing. It wouldn’t be able to dry out in this weather.
Though the furniture was traditional, the decorations were not. A few western pieces hung on the walls and there was a small statue in the corner of a naked angel reaching out to the heavens. One painting in particular caught your eye. It was a woman sprawled on her belly over a chaise, book in hand and kicking her feet in the air, clearly enjoying herself. If you squinted, the woman resembled you, a little.
But that wasn’t right.
If you were a painting, you’d be damaged, torn open, paint cracked, and your price would be pain - a price no one wanted to pay.
The door slid open.
All three wives stood there, and Hinatsuru spoke first. “May we come in?” She gave you a small smile, reassuring. You nodded.
Suma squealed and skipped over to the low table, quickly sitting down on one of the cushions; Makio carefully balanced a tray with teapot and four cups, Hinatsuru closing the door after her.
“I heard Tengen left to sleep over at Kyojuro-san’s. Is that right?” you asked, watching them  all sit with you as Makio poured you a cup. The fragrance was slightly bitter, but you could easily identify it as mugicha, a barley tea meant to calm the mind. 
You could guess why they came to you.
“That’s right. We’ve got a Girls’ Night today!” Suma grinned, nearly bouncing in her seat. 
Makio gave her shoulder a light slap, “Shut up, let Hina speak, you idiot.”
“Hina~ Did you see? Did you see Makio slap me?” crocodile tears filled her eyes. 
Hinatsuru shot them both a look, making both of them quiet down. She turned to you. “[Name], we’ve talked to Tengen-sama earlier,” she started. Your hand clenched around your cup of tea as your chest grew tighter. “We all know the feeling of looking in the mirror and not being happy with the body we see there. We just want to show you that you aren’t alone, and that in this household, there is no judgment. This household includes you as well.” 
You stared at her in silence, in disbelief. You never thought they would be so bold as to approach you about this scarcely few hours after getting home, but on the other hand, it made sense. Tengen’s type wasn’t a shy maiden, even if it held a sort of appeal of its own.
A rustle of clothes caught your attention. Suma turned her back to you and loosened her obi. The short yukata fell to her hips, baring her back to you; there was nothing- until she used her hands to lift her hair. You drew a sharp breath.
An ugly jagged scar stretched from the top of her back up til it disappeared in her hairline. 
“This is a pretty embarrassing story actually. Nothing grand at all,” she told you. “I was about sixteen and a spider startled me while training. I fell from a tree - a branch whacked me there, and since then, I have this ugly thing.” She let her hair fall down and sat properly again, a half-smile on her face; it didn’t look right to see her expression so grim and sad. There was a strange instinct to try to cheer her up, yet you remained silent, a lump forming in your throat.
Makio was next, untying her own belt as she knelt, letting her dress pool at her knees. Raised scar imitating torn flesh extended from her bellybutton to her hip, only partially hidden by her fundoshi. You wanted to avert your eyes but couldn’t. “This is only two years old. I was diving in the river with the girls when a current threw me on a bunch of rocks. Long story short, they were pretty sharp.” 
She was so nonchalant about such a huge blemish on her smooth skin - it made you feel something, something sharp and unwieldy was lodged in your chest, throat, heart. Your hands trembled as you knocked back the tea and set the cup down quickly, lest you let it slip from your fingers.
You were being pulled apart at the seams, exposed despite wearing the most concealing yukata of you four.
Lastly, Hinatsuru stripped off her own yukata. A scar, unlike the others’, placed very deliberately over her areola. You choked on air, near hysterics.
Warm hands and warmer eyes reached out to you, grounding you as you keened. Because you knew the origin. You were there. You were there on the Mission.
You heaved a dry sob. There was only one thing you wanted to do.
You raised your fingers to your lips, kissing them, and then- the fingertips traced the ragged flesh softly, tracing it with a feather-light touch. 
Perhaps you were overstepping, but you wanted to, needed to apologize, to show her intimately how beautiful you found her despite what had happened.
“You are stunning,” you whispered breathlessly, making her own breath hitch. You blinked back tears. “All of you are stunning.”
Suma shuffled closer. “And so are you, [Name].”
Your hand fell away. Perhaps it was foolishness, or bravery, that made you pull your curtain apart, baring your own skin to them. 
There were no gasps, no horrified whispers.
Just four women, nearly naked as the day you were all born, sharing their humiliation.
…was it humiliation? Or was it strength to survive despite all the hardships? 
"Our point is, each of us have some scars we are ashamed of. Do you think lesser of us for having them?"
You didn't even have to think about the answer. "No."
They smiled. And you realized that you would find only acceptance here, in their soft and tender arms.
Hinatsuru took your non-dominant hand in hers. "Some scars are silly, some scars come from gruesome experiences - but they make us who we are. They are part of us."
Suma took your other hand in hers, squeezing it briefly and lifting it to her lips. Oh so gently, she bestowed kisses on each fingertip, lingering on the scar from the knife tip that caused your abdominal scar.
In that moment, you did not see women - your wives - you saw deities, blessing you with their attention and love. They were willing to carry all your trauma together, to share the burden despite knowing you only for a short time. You had no words, except-
"I'm yours," you whispered, warmth filling your chest cavity, your body feeding on the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of belonging. "And you're mine."
"You're ours, and we are yours."
If you were a painting, you’d be held together only by the frame - at least, that was how it used to be. Now, with three new wives to support you, you were slowly being put back together, healing at last.
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"So… we match now, don't we?" Kyojuro said with a bright smile on his face. 
It was the day after Tengen came home, but he couldn’t wait. Despite what he told his wives, he spent the night in an inn, marinating in the wrath he felt, in the hurt and the frustration.
Madness stewed in his stomach, threatening to be regurgitated at any moment. Tengen pushed down his feelings for the moment when he heard steps approaching. “Yes, we do match. Including the retirement and all the free time that comes with it.” 
"I see. Well, you have your hands- hand full of your wives. I'm positive you will figure something out!" 
A demure voice called out, "Excuse me." A red-haired woman came closer, kneeling behind the men sitting on the engawa and setting down her tray. There was tea for each of the men and a huge plate of steamed bread buns. "I thought you might be a little hungry so I…" she trailed off. Quickly getting up, she all but ran away from them.
"Thank you, dear!" Kyojuro shouted at her retreating back, laughing a little. "That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-"
Tengen wasn't in the mood to talk about his friend's nurse. He was here for business after all. “When did you intend to tell me you made my wife a demon slayer?”
Kyojuro paused, nearly mid-bite into a bun. Deciding to finish taking the bite before speaking, he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Delicious! Hmm, well, I didn't make her a slayer. She became one herself." He took another bite, finishing his first bun happily. "Delicious!"
“Cut that out, Kyojuro. She wouldn’t have become one if someone didn’t teach her Breathing. I know it was you, don’t deny it,” Tengen said between clenched teeth, rage very poorly hidden. Behind all the rage was worry, and fear, for her - yet all he could do was spew poison at his best friend.
“Maybe if you’d listened to her back then, you could have prevented me making her a slayer, in your words,” Kyojuro blew at his tea to cool it down a little. “Besides, [Name] is her own person and she can do as she likes. She wanted to be a slayer, she came to me for help, and I would be a bad best friend if I let your wife go into the Final Selection unprepared.”
Tengen hissed like an angry cat, “She could have gone to me.” 
His friend leveled him with a flat look, so unlike his usual sunny disposition. “The last time she saw you before you left, you called her a burden. Imagine how that must have felt. If I were her, I’d be already divorcing you. Really, she deserves better.”
Better. Better. Better.
The word echoed in his mind. She did deserve better; she deserved someone who would support her no matter what, who wouldn’t go behind her back and marry three other women- 
His brain circled around those thoughts almost constantly since she came back from that gods-forsaken Mission. What did she see in him that made her stay? Why did she decide to try - to accept their other wives in the polycule?  
More importantly, Tengen knew she was antsy, that she needed an outlet long before he left for the red district. Getting back in the field - into the fighting, and the blood, and the hurt - was one thing he also knew he could not support. He’d just gotten her back, and he was supposed to be fine with losing her again? 
No.
The answer was no. 
He would have never approved of her joining the corps. He was a bad husband. [Name] deserved someone like-
Kyojuro sipped on his tea, looking over the peaceful garden.
-someone like Kyojuro.
“How often has she come to you while I was gone?” Tengen blurted out before he could stop himself.
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Your first mission as a demon slayer was very uneventful, the demon being weak and easily tracked down, even despite your inexperience. However, there was a Kakushi that had gotten hurt - completely unrelated to the demon, they stepped into a small hole in the ground and rolled their ankle - so you were carrying them to the Butterfly mansion, which was the closest, or so the Kakushi told you. And they were right.
Once you’d laid the Kakushi down on one of the sickbeds further inside the mansion, where they kept the less severe cases, you didn’t want to walk back through the intensive care wing - especially since it was past midnight. You took a detour through the gardens, where you saw a red-headed young man sit on the engawa.
You looked him over, the bandages standing out against his sun-kissed skin. You knew immediately who it was. “Thank you for being there for my husband, young Kamado,” you said, breaking the silence of the night as you approached him. Kyojuro had told you Kamado Tanjiro had a very good nose; he’d probably been able to smell you long before you came close to him. “It must not have been easy - fighting an Upper Moon.”
Tanjiro looked at you, tilting his head. “Husband? Uzui Tengen has… four wives?” To his credit, he didn’t look as surprised to hear the Sound pillar had one more wife hidden away though perhaps his expression was closer to disappointment.
“It should have been me,” you confessed. “In the entertainment district - it’s what I’ve been trained for, what I was born for, made for.” The bitterness in your voice seeped through.
He gave you a tired smile, “Uzui-san, it couldn’t be helped.”
“I would have helped… He didn’t want me to.” You didn’t know why you wanted to pour your heart out to the boy. There was something about him, something that reminded you of Kyojuro, of safety and home. “I would have been just a burden.” 
Tanjiro’s eyes softened, his expression sad, sympathetic to your plight. Yet he could say nothing, he only offered you an ear to listen, to take off your burden at his feet and go on with your life. He reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I spent the time trying to become an asset instead.” Sleepless nights of the week pre-Final Selection came to your mind. You did your best to stop being a burden, and you achieved that; you had your dark gold sword, your Kasugai crow, and your duty. 
“I think…” he started uncertain, “You’re a warrior - were one even before you became a slayer, weren’t you? So you have never been a burden, nor a liability. Whoever made you think this way is wrong, Uzui-san.”
His words brought a slight smile to your face. “You’re too kind, young Kamado.”
Despite the reassurance, dark thoughts swirled in your mind. Still, Tengen’s opinion was branded into your mind, into your heart, your body set on fire and burning you alive with the same ache that had pulsed through your veins in the rhythm of your heartbeat when you came back. 
Tengen’s opinion hurt you as deeply as his betrayal had.
And it was hard to let go of it.
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You were helping Makio with the dishes after dinner when Tengen finally came out with what’s been bothering him.
“Why did you decide to become a demon slayer?” his tone was a barely-restrained typhoon of emotions. 
You looked Makio in the eyes, and she understood immediately, drying off her hands on a rag and leaving the kitchen swiftly.
You both knew it was going to be a nasty fight. 
“Don’t be mad, okay?” You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his jaw gently, since that was all you could reach. Tengen had an unreadable expression on his face for a second before he practically dove in for a deep deep kiss, the force of his urgency making you lose your balance and you lost your balance, his body caging you against the counter.
As swift as a summer rain, the passion turned into anger. He tore himself away from you.
“Why the fuck are you doing this? Are you still hung up on the whole-!” Tengen gestured vaguely in a sharp movement.
You blinked a few times, refocusing on him.
But he didn’t let you answer. “Is this your revenge?” he growled, standing so close he cast shadow over you.
You huffed. “This is no revenge, Tengen. I just-”
“You just what? Your husband left on a life-threatening mission and you go dilly-dallying with his fucking best friend?”
“What? Are you being serious right now?” you could only gape at him, shock freezing you in place. “What the hell are you implying?”
Tengen grit his teeth. “What do you think? A lonely wife, soon to be a widow, in need of a husband. Oh look! There is one right here!”
You chuckled without humor, yet you found the situation wholly hilarious nonetheless. “Tengen, he has a girlfriend.”
“He what?”
“I thought you are his best buddy. Kyojuro’s nurse, Amiya? She’s his girlfriend. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
Like a bucket of ice cold water over a fire, his anger was put out and he remembered.
That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-
You took a deep breath before giggling again, a little deranged.
Tengen took a step back. “I didn’t- I didn’t know.”
A mad laughter echoed in the room, and it surprised you to hear it was yours. “Really? You come back from a mission and you find your lonely wife, a would-be widow, found out about the joy of having a friend after years and years - and you what? Accuse her of cheating the first thing? Wow, you’re so fucking smart, aren’t you?” 
“[Name], I-” 
“No.” You Breathed, pushing him back and surprising him with your strength. “I never did that to you. Get yourself in the mirror and fucking look. Gods know there are many in our home.”
“Alright, I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of that,” Tengen took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I really am…”
“Yes, you better apologize. And you better apologize for one other thing, Lord Tengen,” you seethed. All the anger, the hurt and the pain bubbled together in a nasty concoction of negativity, a poison you intended to make him eat every drop of. 
Because he made you eat his.
“I- Precious, calm down-” He backed away a little seeing your darkening expression, “Okay, honey, don’t be calm.”
“That’s right. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m my own person, with ambitions and feelings - feelings, might I add, that you hurt with your loathsome comment-”
Nothing but a burden.
“- but really, I should thank you. I actually found something I can put my energy to now that I’m no longer a kunoichi,” your voice softened as you looked away. You didn’t want to let all be unforgiven, you just wanted to fix it, to embrace Tengen and be embraced by him - flaws, scars, and all.
The kitchen suddenly felt cold, you felt cold - as if you could never warm up enough. You were frozen to the marrow of your bones, and the chasm between the two of you seemed so dark and wide. You were an island in the middle of a sea.
But then he stepped closer. 
“Can I touch you?” his voice shook slightly. 
Your eyes met. 
You nodded. He reached out with both arms, his hand taking yours and pulling you closer, into a tight hug, his stump crushing you to his chest. “I’m sorry, precious... I kept thinking I could lose you, that I would lose you again so soon after I got you back. I didn’t want that, I wanted to keep you safe.” His breath hitched as he laid his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. 
“That doesn’t excuse your words.”
Tengen’s heart ached, your voice so small and wounded. “It doesn’t, and I swear I will do my best to make it up to you - for the rest of my life, every day. I swear on my existence that I will cherish you every day, from sunrise to sunset and from sunset to sunrise. You are my one and only, my precious.”
The reverent promises warmed your cold bones, bringing life back to where there was none. 
You’d long decided to stand by Tengen no matter what. You would forgive him. 
After a punishment.
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The master bedroom was a work of art - especially for a polycule. Nearly all of it was a raised platform covered by one gigantic futon that could host ten or more people, with about a meter and a half from the walls on three sides as a walk-around. Perfect for what you had in mind.
“Ladies, take it easy-” he choked out. It was too much at once - Hinatsuru cupping his jaw and leaving hickeys, you giving attention to his nipples, sucking and biting them, and Makio at his cock, lapping at his flushed tip. Where was-?
He tried to reach out to push his wives away but felt a tug instead, his arms immobile behind his back. 
“Sum-aaahn~ Fuck!” Makio sucked him into her warm mouth, distracting him from Suma, who was skillfully weaving ropes around his arms; she was, after all, the best at shibari out of all his wives. Their plan slowly sank into his mind. It was hot, and he didn’t want it to stop.
Your nails trailed over his abdomen, Makio cupped his balls as she took more and more of him down her throat, and Hinatsuru practically devoured him with a deep kiss, taking his breath away. His mind went blank.
“Done!”
At the signal, all of his wives took a step back, leaving him panting and aching for more. His face was flushed and his eyes a little hazy. “Wha-?”
Makio grinned, wiping a little bit of drool from her face. “Did you really think this night is about you?” she tutted.
“Exactly, Tengen-sama. You’ve had our wife all to yourself for weeks. It’s our turn,” added Hinatsuru, turning to you. “As long as the First wife approves.” 
You smiled shyly, face hot, yet turned on. It was all a show, just for Tengen. Hinatsuru had already asked you in private if you’d consider a night like that, since the three felt the need to punish him for his transgressions as well. If he already wasn’t regretting crossing his women, he would be after tonight.
“What are we waiting for?” Suma skipped over to you, grabbing you by the yukata and kissing you deeply. You squeaked in surprise at her forwardnes but kissed her back. She tasted sweet, like mochi - you now knew for certain she ate it despite being told not to. 
The mochi was quickly forgotten when you felt your obi loosen. Suma’s hands went into your hair as she kept you occupied. Deft fingers pushed your yukata off your shoulders, another pair of hands going up to cup and play with your breasts.
“Girls, come on… I’m here, why don’t you use me for your pleasures?” Tengen’s voice was faint to you, as was Makio’s response, your head underwater despite breathing fine.
The hands at your breasts disappeared, leaving you cold, your nipples hard from arousal and the change in temperature both. Suma pushed you backwards, until your calves met the raised platform bed. She finally pulled back, someone - Hinatsuru - gently making you sit, then lay on the mattress. 
“You look so cute when you’re all flustered… Your eyes are so lost,” she leaned over you and kissed your lips softly. You chased after her for more, but she only giggled. “It makes me want to ruin you~” She smirked. “In a good way, of course.”
Tengen could only stare in mute shock at what was unfolding in front of him. All his wives turned on him, tied him up, and ignored him, seeking pleasure from each other instead of using him as their play toy. The truth of the situation slowly sank into his mind as he watched Makio replace Hinatsuru in teasing you, and Suma help Hinatsuru into a strap-on harness - a strap-on that was an exact copy of his own cock! They could just use him!
“Girls… I’m right here~ My hands are a bit tied though…” Tengen nearly whined, trying to make eye contact with any of them, only for all four women to be focusing on each other instead of him.
“Sweetie, would you mind…?” 
You looked up to see Hinatsuru with a big strap-on, waving it in your face. You opened your mouth and started to give it sloppy kisses, getting it all wet with your saliva, as you looked up into her eyes. She was smiling down at you, petting your hair gently.
There was a brief conversation behind you but you could only focus on her as she guided you down the cock, making you gag slightly. Hinatsuru pulled back and let you go at your own pace, telling you how good you were for her and how lovely you look taking the strap down your throat.
“Mhm, I think it’s wet enough, isn’t it?” She cupped your jaw and slowly slid you off of it, a string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of it before it snapped. “Makio, come here.”
Gentle hands hugged you from the back, open-mouthed kisses worshiping your shoulders as Suma moved you back a bit to make place for your other wife.
“Mommy is going to make you feel good,” Hinatsuru cooed at Makio, turning her around and pushing her to her hands and knees. “Present for me, babygirl.”
Makio arched her back, balancing on her forearm to spread her already-soaked pussy, the sight making Hinatsuru blush in delight. She took the strap by the base and teased her wife by going up and down between her pussy lips. Makio whimpered and tried to push herself back on it, very nearly succeeding, when Hinatsuru spanked her ass lightly.
“Be good for me, okay?” Nevertheless, she pushed the strap inside agonizingly slowly, Makio moaning at the feeling. She used both hands to support herself now that the cock was in. “You can only cum if you make [Name] cum, babygirl. Sound fair?”
Makio smirked, though it lacked the usual sass, each slow thrust taking more of her brattiness away. “Yes, mommy~” 
Suma pushed you down to lay in front of Makio, spreading your legs with soothing strokes on your thighs. “Let her make you feel good~” She positioned you to half-lay on her lap, one of her hands coming up to caress your breasts and play with your nipples gently.
Hinatsuru thrust in roughly exactly once, and it was to push Makio’s head in between your thighs, forcing her to start pleasuring you. She licked at your clit with just the tip of her tongue, drawing circles and infinity symbols; the long-forgotten feeling of someone going down on you ignited a blaze inside your belly, making you gasp and clutch onto the bedding. 
Suma took hold of your wrist and placed your hand on Makio’s head, whispering lowly, “She likes it when you pull her hair~” Hearing that, you tugged at her hair a little, her moans only adding to your pleasure, the vibrations feeling heavenly.
“F-fuck-” you breathed out shakily, wanting to pull away yet push her head closer to you, already overwhelmed. 
Makio dove in, sucking at your puffy clit gently, laving it with the attention it deserved. She made her way down, grazing the tip along your slit as she continued to make little sounds from Hinatsuru fucking her. Flattening her tongue, she hungrily ate you, a woman on a mission.
Hinatsuru looked up from the lewd display in front of her to look at her husband. Tengen was mesmerized, staring at all of them, before he caught her gaze. She caressed Makio’s asscheeks before delivering a sharp smack, earning her a loud moan from Makio, and subsequently another from you. His face flushed a deep red, lips pressed together in frustration. All the while, Hinatsuru kept eye contact with him, a smug smile stretching her perfect lips.
You tensed, crying out and thrashing in Suma’s embrace, hand harshly gripping at Makio’s hair as you rode wave after wave of pleasure. 
“Shhh, you look so lovely when you cum, don’t you, princess?” Suma whispered in your ear, hot air caressing your sensitive spot as you shivered. “Did you see how good Makio ate you out? Isn’t she pretty when her mouth is occupied and not sprouting nonsense?”
You could scarcely choke out a word, quickly tipping into overstimulation. Hinatsuru, bless her, noticed and roughly pulled Makio back on her strap, pulling her face out of your pussy as she whined and moaned.
Suma rubbed your thighs in comfort; you just tried to catch your breath, coming down to Earth from the Heavens you were in.
“Are you with me? Ready for your lesson, princess?” 
“L-lesson?” you tried to get your bearing, while Suma turned you around gently, shuffling back a little, her cunt nearly in your face. 
“Why, of course~” She grinned. “You need to learn how to eat out a pussy. Did you pay attention to Makio? If not, that’s fine. Come, I’ll be your teacher today~”
You looked at her with half-lidded eyes, saliva pooling in your mouth as you processed what she wanted you to do. You wanted to try, wanted to taste her, wanted to find out how to please her and how to perform your wifely duties to her. The curiosity of the entire act burned inside of you.
You laid on your belly, your lips just inches from the well of ambrosia awaiting you. You give a first tentative lick, the tip of your tongue swirling around Suma’s clit, making her sigh out in pleasure.
“That’s good, princess.” Whispered praises left her lips, instructing you how exactly she liked it, where to lick, where to suck, when to slow down and speed up. Gentle fingers threaded through your hair, reassuring you and grounding you.
You alternated between her sweetness and her puffy nub as she guided you through your first oral, the taste so addicting to you and the praises intoxicating. Her moans only made you wetter, made you anticipate what’s coming next in the night as you enjoyed Suma’s depths for all she gave. Her thighs quivered around your head, the sounds of ecstasy resonating in your ears when her legs didn’t squeeze you involuntarily.
Your face was flushed, you could hardly breathe; you ate and ate until she was screaming and creaming around your tongue, hot pussy juices flooding your mouth. 
“You did so well for me, haaah- princess,” Suma caressed you, easing you off of her with a shaky hand. “How was it?”
You licked your lips and looked up at her shyly. “I liked it very much.” The admission earned you a smile and a deep kiss, before Makio patted both your shoulders. Her thighs shook a little as she winked and then tilted her head in the direction of your husband.
You all shared a secret grin, turning to him at once.
"Heh, I knew you would want my cock eventually," Tengen smirked. You gave him an unimpressed stare.
Makio circled him and bent forward to hug him from the back, whispering in his ear seductively. "Worry not, pretty boy. Once we've used you as we want, you're being put back on the shelf. You see," she grinned evilly, "we don't need you to get our pleasure." Her arms tightened around him, a silent warning to not move.
Hinatsuru laid in front of Tengen, her legs spread on each side of his thighs as if she were offering herself to him. She patted your thigh to draw your attention. "Sweetie, paint me with his cum. I want it all over me~"
The nickname made your cheeks heat up. You nodded enthusiastically and shuffled closer to Tengen.
His lone eye was lidded, face flushed and lips parted as he looked on in anticipation of what was coming. His cock twitched right before your palm met his flesh, the spongy tip an angry red and weeping precum. You held it steady and opened your mouth, letting your saliva drip down on it, using it as lubricant along with his precum to stroke him. Tengen let out a breathy “Fuuuhk-” when you started a steady pace, putting both of your hands to use. You swept your thumb over the mushroom head with each pass, paying attention to what he liked. It was your goal to make him finish, after all.
“Come on, be our good boy and cum quick~ We need your cum~” Makio whispered into his ear in a sultry voice. Tengen whimpered.
Your hands were firm around his cock, unrelenting as you worked him towards his release; the weight of him in your hands was familiar yet new at the same time. His balls hung heavy and you cupped them with one of your hands, fingers deftly massaging him for the sweet treat inside.
Tengen cursed like a sailor, first spurt of semen shooting out with enough force to land near Hinatsuru’s neck. You didn’t stop, trying to squeeze the most you could out of him as he painted a masterpiece on his wife.
"Good job. Now you sit here nice and pretty for us. Such a good decoration to our pleasure, hmm?"
You, Makio and Suma all descended upon Hinatsuru with the hunger of starving hyenas. Licking at her cum-stained skin, you cleaned every beautiful inch of her as she closed her eyes, enjoying every second of it. 
Tengen could only stare again, humiliated for the n-th time that evening. Yet again he was forced to sit and watch his wives go at it, barely giving him a taste of the pleasures they gifted each other so lovingly, using him as a source of cum to continue the hedonistic display in front of him. He felt shamed, and unbelievably turned on.
Makio’s head bumped into yours by accident, prompting you both to look up. Your eyes met, an animalistic impulse taking over as you locked your lips together, Tengen’s cum shining like lip gloss on both of your lips. So engrossed in each other, you forgot all about the audience you had, everything a blur as your tongues danced.
“Time to fuck that attitude out of you, brat.” 
Makio’s head was yanked from you, a string of saliva stretching and snapping between the two of you as Suma tugged her back by her hair. Makio was forced to support herself with her hands on Tengen’s thighs, making him blush deeply at the sight. A sharp smack echoed in the room.
Warm hands coiling around your torso distracted you from your stolen lover. Palms with small calluses ran over your breasts, the rough parts catching on your nipples as you were pulled away and down to lay your head on a pillow. Hinatsuru laid beside you, foreheads touching, air shared between you.
“Do you want to learn how to make me feel good?” she whispered, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy. 
You had none though. “Yes, please… Mommy.” Your face felt hot at the nickname you called her, but Hinatsuru only smiled gently, cupping your face.
“Of course, sweetie.” Her fingertips trailed down your throat, your chest, belly, making you shiver and goosebumps spread over your skin at her feather-light touch. At last, her hand stroked your thigh, raising it a little to allow her access to your most intimate place, two fingers delving between your pussy lips. You drew a shaky breath.
“Close your eyes,” Hinatsuru whispered to your ear. “Feel my fingers, focus on how I do it…” You gasped as her thumb circled your puffy clit oh so gently. “Copy what I do to you, hmm? Can you do that for me, sweetie?” Her motions slowed down, waiting for you to start doing as she ordered.
Your hand hesitantly trailed down her side to the apex of her thighs, dipping down to her entrance to wet your fingers before you began copying her. Her shaky moan signaled you were doing it somewhat right. 
“Feel me?”
You hummed breathlessly, leaning against her neck, panting slightly. You weren’t ready for the pleasure her digits brought but you tried to focus on copying her movements. Each flick, circle and thrust was met blow-for-blow on her own pussy. You bit your lip as you felt her huffing into your hair.
“You’re doing so well, sweetie. Just relax and enjoy it, hmm?” 
You could hardly relax when she brought you pleasure so expertly - each circle on your clit winding the knot inside tighter and tighter, making you see stars even before your release.
“Let go for me, babygirl.”
You cried out, losing control over your fingers as you shattered on Hinatsuru’s. Tears gathered at your lash line while she shushed you, still stimulating you gently, prolonging the waves of pleasure as they crashed upon you.  
“So adorable. You sound so cute when you cum, sweetie.” She took hold of your hand and ground down on you. “Now, be a good girl and let mommy use you- ah!” 
Hinatsuru didn’t bother to muffle her moans, chasing her own la petite mort. You watched in awe when she came, her pussy walls squeezing your fingers, more slick coming out of her. Her whole body trembled and she no longer had to control you as you made sure to gently bring her down to Earth, steering clear of her clit to not overstimulate her.
A lewd sound accompanied you taking your fingers away from her. You looked at them, all sopping wet with her essence; before you could stop yourself, you were licking it all up. Hinatsuru giggled a little and cuddled close to you once you were done, giving you a sweet kiss on your lips.
Makio’s face was right in Tengen’s, each snap of Suma’s hips driving her closer to her orgasm, her breasts swaying back and forth, her nails digging into his thighs painfully. He could not look away; he ached with need, his weeping cock begging for attention, tears nearly filling his eyes from the frustration. Just behind Makio and Suma were Hina and you, coming down from your respective highs, cuddling and not paying attention to him at all.
Why? He was right there! Why didn't you or Hina or any of them give him any relief? He truly felt he didn’t deserve this…
Makio went taunt suddenly, her eyes rolling back and her arms losing their strength, nearly falling into his lap. Suma laughed breathlessly at that and slowly pulled the strap out of Makio’s pussy, the fake dick bouncing a little. With a few tugs on the harness, she was free of it, a few indents showing on her thighs from how tightly she tied the straps.
Extra appendage discarded, it was time to untie Tengen, who’d fallen uncharacteristically silent.
Makio was crawling to the cuddling duo, completely spent, when the last knots fell loose. 
Tengen Breathed.
Suma was on her back before she knew what was going on, her legs spread wide open. “Eh?” was all she could say when her husband’s large form caged her in, the tip of his rock hard cock already at her entrance. Her yelp alerted the other wives that something was wrong, but Tengen was beyond the point of caring. He thrust inside with one smooth move, groaning loudly like a cheap whore, immediately setting a punishing pace on his Second wife.
All other sounds fell away other than the lewd wet smacks of skin-on-skin. Suma’s face became flushed very quickly, clawing at his shoulders while he rendered her guts to pieces with his harshness. A beautiful mix of pleasure and pain. 
He brought his hand down to her clit, circling it the exact way she loved. Tears filled her eyes as her release approached rapidly. Tengen had still not said a thing. He was just staring at her, groaning softly, sweat making his hair stick to his neck and face, which was set in a beautifully pussy-drunk expression. 
She was lost, her back arching as she clung to him. The fluttering of her pussy made him let out sounds reminiscent of a dying man and still deep inside her, painting her walls white. Tengen pulled out slowly, still hard, throbbing and far from done. He did nothing to stop his cum from leaking out, turning to the rest of his wives.
Makio was already dozing off, despite the commotion, so that eased his burden so to speak. Tengen shuffled closer in a few quick motions, grabbing Hinatsuru’s ankle and yanking her to him, her noise of surprise drowned by his feral growl.
She laid on her stomach, so Tengen just straddled her thighs and spread her asscheeks open, pushing inside her wet pussy roughly. Hinatsuru angled her hips to take him in deeper, fucking herself back on him and moaning at the feeling of his cock rubbing against all the right spots. "T-Tengen, slow down!"
You could only stare wide-eyed as your husband railed Hinatsuru like a beast, his stump resting on the small of her back, arching her up even more, and his hand clutching the back of her neck. You glanced at Makio on your side, long since passed out, and then Suma, who was dozing with cum oozing out of her.
You weren’t scared of Tengen, per se, but this was new. You had never seen him go crazy like this. It made you gush with wetness at the display, your fingers reaching down to play with yourself.
His furious pace with Hinatsuru slowed down, though not any less powerful. He leaned over her, his whole body covering hers as he put his weight on his forearms, grinding into her with each roll of his hips, her eyes crossing a little, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Tengen started to whisper in her ear; you could not hear what he said, but Hinatsuru’s eyes met yours, conveying a silent message you could not understand. Was it pity or something else entirely?
Smack.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when Tengen spanked her, grinning widely, staring down at her. “Say my name,” he commanded her in a gravelly voice.
Hinatsuru desperately clutched the bedding - trying to remain in place or fuck herself back on him, you didn’t know - as she stuttered out a weak “T-Ten-gen-!”
“Louder!” 
“T-Tengen!”
A quick rhythm of pap pap pap echoed in the room, you couldn’t look away, you could scarcely breathe. And then, Hinatsuru could scarcely breathe, when he wound his left arm around her neck, using the thick muscles to keep her in place while he had his fun.
Her face was red, mouth falling open in an ‘o’.
“Oh fuck- I’m cumming-” he choked out hugging Hinatsuru close, burying his face in her neck and groaning as if he were dying, letting up the pressure on her neck. She just whimpered meekly, grinding back against him, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his in an intimate touch. 
You suddenly felt like a voyeur. You wiped your wetness on your thigh, quickly pulling a loose blanket over yourself, embarrassed. 
There was a loud squelch and another whimper from Hinatsuru.
You chanced a look, your eyes widening.
It was clear Tengen’s mania did not pass yet, his cock still hard and twitching. “What, did you think I’d forget my dearest wife?” He loomed over you, his huge body casting a shadow, like a predator about to devour his prey. “Whether you're ready or not, here I come, precious…”
You felt like the temperature of the room rose a few degrees, watching him come closer to you, length bouncing, covered in slick and cum. You thought he must be pretty overstimulated, it should be easy to last…
How wrong you were.
Like an animal let out of his cage, he pounced. The last two creampies only took the edge off; your fellow wives were dozing off quietly while you were about to get ravaged. 
Tengen practically tore the blanket from your body, leaning closer and blocking your escape, his forearms framing your head. “Why are you hiding from me, precious? Are you scared?”
You trembled from a mix of arousal and anticipation. 
His wine red eye searched both of yours intently, waiting for your response. When you said nothing, he whispered, “Remember our safe word?”
Jade, or three taps on any part of his body with your fingers.
You nodded.
“You can still use it at any time,” he murmured. “Say it, or use our non-verbal signal, and I’m going to stop. Do you understand?” 
You nodded again, making him sigh in relief.
Then, Tengen grinned, dropping all the worries he had; happy you were both on the same page. Now he was free to do as he pleased - as long as you didn’t stop him. “Then… Say you’re mine…” he leaned in even more, hovering just centimeters above your lips, your breaths mingling. “...pet.”
You exhaled harshly, the nickname doing things to you, his closeness, his voice, his scent… All of it an intoxicating mix of pure Tengen. “I’m… yours.” 
“Hm? I didn’t hear you. Say it louder,” he whispered breathily, eye half-lidded. “Come on, be a good girl. You know you want to be~”
Your face felt hot at the intensity of his attention. “I’m yours.”
“Exactly, precious - mine to touch…” His right hand caressed your cheek, tilting your face up. “Mine to kiss…” he breathed out, diving in for a deep and sensual kiss that stole your breath away. “Mine to do whatever I please…” His hand traced down your neck gently as he kissed you again. “You’ve been naughty…”
His lips left your own; instead trailing open-mouthed and hot kisses on your throat.
“Teasing me all evening…”
Your pussy clenched around nothing, his cock bumping on your clit as he tried to position himself hands-free.
"Minxes-"
His tip caught at your entrance and he slid in with a low groan, your heat and wetness driving him near-mad already.
"You were so gorgeous, all of you." 
In, and out, in and out - each time quicker and quicker, yet the way he took you could hardly be called graceful. It was an animalistic and desperate pace, all about pleasure and none about being pretty.
He leaned back a little, holding his weight on his hand. "Hold onto me," he panted out. "C'mon raise those hips f'me, precious." 
You tightened your thighs on his hips, gripping as much as you could with his disharmonic thrusts, and arched your back off of the bed. His cock hit a very sensitive spot inside making you groan at the sensation and nearly slip down as you lost strength; Tengen used his left forearm to stabilize you as he fully raised himself upright on his knees, his right hand helping his thrusts.
He groaned, “You’re fucking perfect - and all mine, only mine.”
You could only mewl in response, your orgasm quickly approaching. 
As did his.
“Fuck- fuckfuck, I’m coming, I’m coming-comingcomingcomin-!” he chanted over and over, falling over and putting nearly his whole weight on you as his hips stuttered. He leaned on his left forearm above your head to ease off of you a little, still slamming away into you, rhythmless and sloppy.
Heat filled you, setting you off like fireworks. Your pussy milked him for all he was worth, each spasm accompanied by a whimper from you.
“I can’t stop my hips- It feels so good, ngh-!” His semen spilled out of you with each slap of skin against skin, his pubic bone bumping against your clit and creating a burning ache there. Tears filled your eyes when finally he groaned out, "Fuuuhck-" You felt his hot cum spill inside you again, making you wonder where your husband acquired such libido and stamina while you were away. 
Tengen slowed down at last, his body trembling above yours as he hid his face in your neck, panting. Your arms were boneless and refused to keep any semblance of coordination; nevertheless you hugged him loosely, one hand tangling in his sweaty locks. You untied his eye-patch and dropped it at your side, fingers returning to his scalp.
Each breath became longer and longer, his rutting finally coming to a stop. 
He huffed and kissed your neck gently. "Gonna pull out now-" he grunted when your pussy spasmed around him, clearly overstimulated. He finally pulled out fully, for the first time since sinking into your heat, and nearly got hard at the sight again. 
His cum was smeared all over your thighs and more still was leaking out of your puffy pussy. He could not resist - his hand gathering some of the pearly white, reaching up and smearing it all over your tits. 
"Hey!" you protested half-heartedly.
Tengen laughed, still a little breathless. “Not sorry.” He gave you a short but insanely soft kiss, before standing up and walking to the door. “Stay where you are.” His form disappeared.
You relaxed, the gentle breathing of your wives soothing you. That was… something. You had never been with a woman before, nor had you had an orgy, or really been with anyone other than Tengen, but this felt good, this felt nice. Overwhelming, but neverending pleasure. Giving and taking freely. No pressure. Just ecstasy.
Tengen came back, carrying a small bucket of water and a few rags, each a different color. He gave you a wink and knelt next to Suma first, wetting one of the rags and cleaning her up, his gentle motions a clear worship to his wife. Once clean, he scooped her up and carried her over to the other side of the room-futon. Suma had not stirred once.
You rolled onto your side to watch him work as he moved onto Makio. Hers was swift, yet Tengen kept pausing every time she mumbled something in her sleep. Finished, he carried her to Suma, who immediately cuddled Makio to her chest. He threw a blanket over both of them as they snuggled for warmth.
Watching him care for them told you how deeply he loved each one, how devoted he was. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel jealous. Perhaps it’s the remnants of shinobi culture lurking in your brain, though the thought didn’t comfort you at all.
Hinatsuru groaned when he cleaned up his spend from her thighs, the water clearly going cold with time. Tengen shushed her softly, speeding up so he could get her to be with the others quicker. 
With the girls, Hinatsuru rolled over, pressing herself up against Makio, seeking warmth.
At last, it was your turn.
“You’re shakin'…” You didn’t even notice until he pointed it out. He quickly grabbed the last wet rag and wiped you down gently. The water was lukewarm. “I’m right here, precious.” 
His own body seemed clean enough, so he’d already done that for himself in the bathroom probably. You reached out and placed one of your hands on his thigh, right over the marks Makio left on him, hoping to provide him with a little of the comfort he brought you. Tengen smiled at that gesture.
“You did a good job, makin’ me feel good.”
You hummed. “And you did a good job making me feel fantastic,” you whispered as he finally wiped the drying cum off of your chest. 
His hand slowed a little. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“No, you were just right.”
He leaned down to give you a tender kiss, the forearm of his left arm caressing your cheek oh so gently, it made you tear up a little. This man, your husband, worshiped you like a goddess. Your love for him swelled in your chest, your heart pumping heavily as if it wanted to beat out of your body. You felt loved - loved, cherished, appreciated. It was a heady feeling, a drug which made you crave even more of his soft attention and veneration. 
You could only hope he understood the power he had over you.
Tengen set the rag on the rim of the bucket and put it beside the futon. You got to your knees to join the others when your husband snatched you up, making you yelp a little. He was grinning. “Can’t have you walking after your first night in our flashy group, can I?”
You giggled quietly when he laid you down, himself between you and Hinatsuru, who felt a greater warmth from his side than from Makio’s and rolled over to him. You reached out and threw a blanket over all three of you.
Despite your tiredness, you allowed Tengen to pull you even closer against him, bestowing another adoring kiss to the crown of your head. One of your arms stretched over him, tracing idle patterns on his chest - characters, words, should he pay enough attention to notice them.
I adore you.
I never want to leave your side.
I want to make you happy.
You make me happy.
I'm yours.
You're mine.
We are husband and wives, a family unit, never to be separated.
You closed your eyes and drifted off.
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notjustjavierpena · 2 months
Text
His
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A/N: This has been on hiatus since July. I have finally decided to finish up another chapter. I have no idea where this is going but I am just going with it at this point. They’re fun! Enjoy part 4 of mean!joel ❤️💖
Summary: After Joel kisses you, something shifts. You find out a hard truth and take matters into your own hands.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, a mishmash of feelings, dubcon-ish themes, a hint of sub!joel (?!!!!?!!??) but he is not happy about it, a hint of edging, handjobs, degradation, humiliation, riding, unprotected piv, slapping, dirty talk, empty threats
Word count: 3.6k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/135617983
His
Something shifts after Joel kisses you and leaves. Especially because he did it in a way that made it seem like he was bolting out of a burning building, leaving you inside for the walls to come tumbling down around you. You hardly blame him for reacting like he did that night; he is the most emotionally unavailable man you have ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting, and you doubt that he even has the vocabulary to put words to why he fled your bed like it was the scene of a crime. It isn’t like you’re going to ask him though, not even despite being curious about his reasoning and intentions. 
For you, it is not a mystery what the shift is. The arrangement between the two of you used to be anticipation, fury, and lust. Now it’s a gentle tug at your heartstrings when you catch a glimpse of him in the streets and he doesn’t look your way, knowing you should not want him in the way you do. 
How you want him is harder to pinpoint. It’s not wedding bells, it’s not children padding around on the wooden floor of your home, it’s not doing laundry for him and watching him do the dishes after sharing a meal. It’s something less complicated than love. You don’t want him to love you, but you wouldn’t mind being his only and his favorite. 
Though irony would have it that it turns out you are indeed not his only source of whatever fucked up thing the two of you exchange once in a while. 
During a short break from a late-night meeting of your patrol group (Joel had decided last week to switch to another), one of the newcomers to Jackson snickers girlishly as she tells the rest of you about how Joel Miller had made her come four times last weekend. It makes something uncomfortable swirl in your stomach, makes it drop as you feel foolish about thinking you were special. Additionally, it takes all the willpower in you to not blurt out that he had made you come seven times during one of the nights you’d spent together.
To your surprise, It isn’t that he has slept with someone else that hits you. It’s the little piece of information that your new patrol member lets slip with a giggle. 
“Such a gentleman,” she says, basking in the attention of the circle of women standing around her. Their collective sigh makes you wonder what they’d say if you let them know that Joel forced you to suck him off the first time you were together. A part of you suspect that she is lying as she continues, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, girls. He was just so attentive and sweet.” 
After the meeting, you feel like you’re about to suffocate if you don’t leave the building quickly. The tightening in your chest makes your heart feel caged, desperate to come out into the open and bleed all over the place from making its way past your ribs. Desperately, you push past anyone who does not jump out of your way immediately. 
Once outside, you find a quiet spot behind the community center where people only come to be alone. You rest your forehead against the side of the building, breathing deeply in through your nose and exhaling shakily as you suppress the tears that threaten to roll down your face. 
“Fuck,” you say bitterly as a droplet still manages to escape from the corner of your eye. You wipe it away with a quick swipe of your hand as if to hide the evidence from the world and yourself, “Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck are you crying over him about?”
However, the single tear seems to have opened the floodgates because you find yourself properly crying a few seconds later. It is ridiculous, you know this, but you cannot help the shaky breaths that leave your mouth as your cheeks stain with tears. 
Joel is not anything special. Joel is rude and arrogant, bordering on narcissistic and psychotic. You’re not even sure if he can smile, if he’s funny, or if he’s capable of not ruining things when touching them. He sure has ruined you, ruined both your nights and days because they’re spent wondering about him. 
Then again, surely he must know this because he looks at you from across the room the way he does. He must know what he is doing to you, and it makes you fucking furious because how did he ever think that he had the right to pursue you? Make you want him? And, to top all of it off, how does he think he has the right to not appreciate you? 
Rage slowly builds in your chest. Your heartbeat is threatening to make you pass out with how fast it is going, but you ground yourself by taking a few deep breaths that eventually stop your tears as well. 
I’ll fucking show him, you think, and it’s the white-hot fury in you that is talking.
You stalk across the streets of Jackson, earning a few concerned glances but no warning words. It’s a relief that you look angry enough for people not to bother you, because you wouldn’t be able to articulate your reasons for wanting to implode with how furious you are. 
Your legs take you all the way to Joel’s house. You stomp angrily up the porch’s stairs, but it’s only when you burst Joel’s front door open that you realize that you actually haven’t been in his home before. It’s also only then that you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do now that you are here, too angry and out of your damn mind to explore the many pictures on the walls, the wooden carved figures on the shelves and… is that a guitar? 
You mentally shake yourself.
“Focus on the task at hand,” you say quietly with exasperation, and then the search for your betrayer begins.
You walk through the house with determination, but you soon realize that he is nowhere to be found downstairs. It doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t locked his door (nobody in Jackson does), but you still feel disappointed that you can’t make a big dramatic scene of throwing a plate in the kitchen or a cushion in the living room. You feel slightly like a rage-filled balloon that’s slowly losing air. 
So you decide to go upstairs whilst still clinging to your rage, planning on waiting in his bedroom for his return but realizing that Joel is already in and sleeping in his bed. It’s late enough, you suppose, and you know he has a series of hard labor tasks on certain days.
You try your hardest not to feel too intoxicated by the smell of him on the sheets, need your head clear as you slowly start to undress right in front of his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful and so unlike his usual stoic self, and so vulnerable that the opportunity is too great to miss. 
You freeze the times he stirs slightly but he never wakes up, and soon, you are down to your underpants and nothing more and you are so wet with the anticipation of both sex and power in the room, even more with Joel being so unaware of it.
The bed creaks as you crawl onto it. You manage to straddle Joel before he wakes up fully, immediately lifting his arms to grab you and defend himself but when he realizes it’s your body on top of his, he falters.
“What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice is filled with sleep but he is nowhere near panic as you had hoped. 
You lean down over him and grab at his chin with the hand that’s not holding you up. You smile down at him but Joel is already staring down at your chest as you hover above him. You shake his head slightly, “Eyes up here, you bastard.”
“Shouldn’t look so pretty then,” he retorts. 
“Heard you were screwing around with that new bimbo. I thought you liked a challenge,” you tighten the grip on Joel’s jaw, push him back into the mattress, and catch the way he is connecting the dots in his head but the time it takes him makes you realize that there has been more than her. You growl, still hovering over him, and leaning down to ghost your lips over his whilst your eyes roam over his face, “It’s a damn fucking privilege to be breathing the same air as me.” 
“Cute,” he says quietly and brattishly. 
You push down briefly before letting go. Your eyes look down at his lips but you don’t kiss him like you want to, don’t want to give in when it would seem so vulnerable to give in to that temptation. 
Instead, you reach up to hold your palm in front of his mouth. You smile innocently, “Lick it.”
“What?” He chuckles in disbelief.
“Go on. Do as I say.”
Joel lets out his tongue and wets his lips. He gives in faster than you have anticipated, licks a long stripe from the start of your wrist to the middle of your palm, and coats your hand in disgusting, hot, and dirty saliva. 
“Did she do that?” You ask. You feel behind yourself to slide a hand down into Joel’s jeans and then past the waistband of his underwear, “Put you in your place because she knows how disgusting you are?” 
Joel is already half-hard as you take him in your slicked palm, and his cock comes alive fully not a moment later. He gasps into the bedroom but still looks cocky as ever, “Which of ‘em?”
“Fuck you,” you stroke him slowly and his breaths come out in small puffs that hardly make him seem calm and composed. You realize how much you’ve needed, craved, to put your hands on him. 
“That can be arranged,” he says, trying to catch a glimpse of what you are doing to him. He starts to move, makes an effort to flip you around but you catch him before he can follow through. You tighten your grip around his cock, squeezing him around the base until he gasps softly. 
“No one but me,” you say, “Okay?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, what is this?” He rolls his eyes and moans when you stroke him once and then twice. 
“Are you going to behave?” You ask with a harsh grip again. You let your lips touch briefly now. 
“What?” Joel looks slightly disgusted. 
“I asked,” you begin and now you start to stroke him properly, mimicking what you have seen him do to himself when he has wanted to come on your face, “Are you going to behave, Joel?”
“No,” he teases. 
“Don’t make me ask once more, baby,” you move your hand up and down quickly, almost forcing him to near orgasm before you squeeze around the base to edge him. He hisses, neck blushing with how his heartbeat must be on overdrive. 
“Fuck,” he groans, throbbing in your hand, and with his snark, you almost just want to spend hours tracing the vein along his length with your fingertip, “Whaddaya want? You want me to be your little boyfriend or somethin’? Don’t be dumb, it don’t suit ya.”
“Listen,” you say, scooting back slightly and leaving a stain of your slick on the bottom of his t-shirt, “I’ll stick your big cock in me right now and let you come in me if you say I’m your only girl. You’ll never need another pussy than this.” 
He says your name as you straighten on top of him again but you let him know it doesn’t mean anything to you. Your free hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, and then you hold his cock in place as you slide down onto it and let it stretch you by bottoming out inside of you. You try your best to look motionless but he has a girth that stings.
“Say it,” you demand, slightly out of breath at the feeling of sitting on his thighs now. 
Joel is silent. He stares up at you, looking as if he has won because he is already inside of you but when you don’t hear an answer, you start lifting yourself off of him again. Joel grabs your hips in protest, holds you down, “No.”
“Then say it,” you reply, “Now.”
“You’re my girl,” he moans helplessly as you reward him with a roll of your hips. You make a noise as well, something closer to a tiny cry for him but you aren’t going to give in just like that.
“The only?” You inquire when you regain your composure. 
“My only girl, even if she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass,” he groans. You flex your thighs to grip him around the middle and then you squeeze his length, letting your walls clamp down and it sends his eyes rolling backward. He bucks up his hips and you moan. 
However, you still have more to say and do. You don’t move yet, “I don’t believe you.”
Joel rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening but he still doesn’t force you to ride him, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck now?”
“I think you’re a liar,” you inform him, trying to ignore how much every instinct in your body is telling you to use his dick for yourself. You squeeze around him again, “I think you’ll say anything to get pussy.”
“No one’s got a pussy like yours, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that?” He bares his teeth like an aggressive, cornered dog and he groans at the feeling of your soft, wet walls, “You’re like fuckin’ cocaine. Need more each time or I’ll never recover.”
“Don’t go finishing in me, Joel,” you scold. 
“I ain’t gonna,” he bites back, “I do have some self-control.”
“With the way you’ve been whoring around?” You tut, experimentally rocking your hips forward to feel him slip almost all the way out of your cunt. You move back to let him bury himself deep once more and whine, “Riiight.”
“Watch it, we’re only doin’ this because I allow it. I could break ya spine like a fuckin’ toothpick,” he breathes, hands going up along your thighs until he lets them glide up your back as if he is going to make truth of his threat, “Don’t forget who has the upper hand here.”
You relish in his rough hands on your lower back and finally start up a pace to ride him properly, not caring about how your thighs start to burn as you seek out pleasure. It’s a fun contrast to what Joel has just told you because his eyes glaze over in a way that shows you that he wouldn’t even know how to snap you in half if he wanted to. 
His breath has quickened, each intake and exhale becoming airy, whilst he holds your soft sides in his calloused grip. You rest your palms on top of his forearms, undulating your hips until his eyes roll back. He seems like he might lose his mind this time around, so submissive in his own way now that what you are doing to him has hit him by surprise. 
He shamelessly groans your name. Its roughness spurs you on, making you lean forward a little further to give him more. You ride him as if your life depends on it until something burns delicious in your belly and his pelvic bone grinds into your clit. 
Your first proper moan leaves you, high and squeaky. The angle has you baring your teeth, your breathing shaking, from how his cockhead stabs at your front wall repeatedly. You start spitting filth to not sound pathetic even further, “Fuck, Joel, your big cock is enough to make a girl lose her sanity. Makes my eyes wanna roll back.”
But Joel says nothing as he seems pissed off by what you have made of him. Instead, he breathes hard through his nose and occasionally lets a moan fall from his mouth. It pisses you off too. He had such a smart mouth just moments ago, and now he has resorted to being spiteful. 
You make a rash decision then. You move steadily on his cock, rhythm not faltering once, whilst reaching down to his face with your dominant hand. You smack his cheek hard enough to make a point and a noise, eyes narrowed, “Snap out of your ego tripping.”
Joel responds not with words but by curling his hand around your wrist and yanking it away, and then he takes hold of your smaller body once again and starts snapping his hips upwards, crashing them into yours until you nearly topple off of him after crying out. He tightens his hands on your body whilst you hold his forearm with one hand and have the other firmly planted on his chest, and suddenly you are working together towards a crescendo. 
“Give it to me!” You yell with your eyes screwed shut from the pressure against your clit and g-spot. Joel is swearing and his chest is glistening with sweat but he gives in to your command, making you bounce in his lap until he throws his head back and yells with you. 
“Fuck, honey,” he grits out, “Gonna make me come inside ya tight pussy.”
“Oh, it talks?” You quip, trying to hold back a pathetic string of cries but to no avail. Joel smooths his hands up to cup your body just below your breasts, digging his thumbs into your rib cage. 
“Shut the fuck up,” he retorts. 
“I’m gonna come,” you say instead and furrow your brow. 
“Yeah?” He mocks but then his face goes slack and you feel him twitch inside of you, impossibly close to the edge too, “Fuuuck, I can feel ya. Choke my cock real good, Doll.”
You come hard, unable to catch your breath as you keep moving back and forth on his length. Your whole pussy pulses, tight walls gripping him even further. The fingers holding onto his forearm make little indents and your nails on the other hand scratch into his chest until red lines form. And you cry. Oh, you cry and cry for him whilst singing his name.
The clenching of your cunt around his dick makes him reach his own point of no return a moment after. He does a sharp intake of breath and when he exhales even sharper, a groan follows, and his cock releases come inside of you. 
You use your last bit of energy to ride him through it. Your delirious mind, hazy with pleasure, makes your mouth run as you slowly drag your hips to match each twitch of his length, “See? She can’t love you like I do. Is that really what you want, Joel?” 
Joel pants underneath you. He tenses up when he hears those words but instead of pulling away, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down, “What the fuck did you just say?”
Your eyes widen slightly at the realization. In your chest, your pulse beats rapidly, “Just ‘cause I said it, doesn’t mean that I meant it.”
Joel tightens his grip briefly but then lets go. He sighs, then reaches up to rub his forehead in frustration, “I don’t have the strength.” 
“What’s so bad about it?” You ask, figuring that you might as well jump into the conversation now that you’ve been stupid enough to start it. 
“Don’t,” he warns, letting out a noise as he moves to pull out of you. Your panties move back into place, causing you to shiver.
“Please,” you know it is weak of you.
Joel says your name, mimicking the tone of a parent who is tired of hearing their child pestering them about something. He finds your eyes but doesn’t say anything else. 
“Just let me try something,” you continue and earn a raised brow. He stops trying to move. You swallow thickly but decide to be brave. 
Carefully, you curl your fingers into Joel’s chest hair and reach for his cheek with your other hand. You close the distance between the two of you, finding his mouth with your own and kissing him with a lot less vigor compared to what you have just done.
Underneath your palm on Joel’s chest, you can feel him exhale in something resembling relief. He doesn’t fight the kiss, no, instead he moves his arms and holds your waist. He kisses you back with closed eyes and soft hands, and you try not to ruin it by becoming eager. 
A few moments pass. When you finally pull away, he looks like a deer in the headlights of a car but you talk before he can, “Go to sleep. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything; I can see you’re exhausted.”
You move off of him to lie down at his side instead. Besides you, Joel closes his eyes without hesitation as if he needs to escape any conversation but when his breathing slows down further and you realize that he is drifting off, he looks mostly like a tamed beast. 
Ever so gently, you run a hand over his hair. He shifts only a little bit, so you do it again and suddenly you’re stroking the salt and pepper curls repeatedly.
To think that he had been ready to fight if someone touched him just half an hour ago. You continue for a few minutes before leaving the bed, heading for his bathroom to get cleaned up, and when you return again, he doesn’t react this time either.
The next day, you’re back in the same patrol group. 
.
.
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uc1wa · 4 months
Note
xi hear me out. Taking Dick’s vcard like he’s super curious so he goes to you to ask for help n u r single handedly the catalyst that launches him into being a fratboy in college bc he wants to have sex that good again— so normal over this idea
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and the crowd goes fucking crazy for cressie
tags: fem reader, virgin uni!dick, then... frat boy!dick lol, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex, pussy sniffin’ (for 2 seconds), fuckin' n fuckin' n fuckin', this became way longer than i intended... enjoy!
"are you ready?"
both of your hands hold dick’s shoulders, your knees holding your form up, the warmth of his cock hitting your bare entrance. weary and wide blue eyes watch you, looking up to yours as he nods. "please, please, can’t wait anymore," he begins in a whine, quickly recovering and adjusting his voice to a more even one.
did you ever think that your childhood best friend who went off to uni would be ringing you the week he got home for summer break? of course.
did you expect him to timidly ask you how to fuck during that phone call? never in a million years.
see, dick grayson’s first year of university was full of studying, staying in his dorm, and acing every exam. he went to school a good boy, and wasn’t tempted by parties, clubbing, or the mere idea to get a fake id. the last thing he cared about was girls, wanting nothing more than to make the dean's list.
he was a good boy, but that only went so far. dick realized at some point or another (specifically, when wally had a video called him telling about this girl he was fucking, dick was just slightly jealous) he had to lose his virginity. he wasn’t thirsty for pussy. he knew how to get himself off, but when measuring if he should hookup with a random from campus or you, the answer came easy.
a week into his summer break and he’d brought takeout to your place, the house he’d grown up going to. and when all was said and done, and you’d led him with a hand to your room, his cock was already hard in his pants.
but you didn’t rush, you taught him a woman’s pleasure before you’d decided to ride him. you helped him prepare yourself, his fingers exploring what was your entrance. calloused fingers rubbing and catching the feel of your most sensitive parts, memorizing the face you made when he experimentally curled his fingers. measuring how much pleasure stimulation on your clit gave you. and, as any good boy would, did exactly what elicited moans from you with his fingers alone.
and when you’d felt yourself ready, you decided riding him was the safest option. allowing him time to get adjusted to your hole and finding a slow pace that would make the both of you comfortable.
sinking down onto his length, you watched the way his eyes closed, black waves falling back as his neck fell backward. you felt so much better than his fist.
"ya-ya alright?" you ask, inching down until the man’s full length sits tightly inside of you, checking in with the man before you. and he nods, hands finding the fat of your hips as he begins attempting to lift you.
"p-please, jesus christ, need you to fuckin’ move," he moans, eyes meeting yours once more. without a single thrust, without a full ‘fuck’ yet, dick found himself pussy drunk over you.
the feeling of your sweetness surrounding him was something he could get a high off of, addiction setting in. but when you helped him lift your ass off of his thighs, he moaned your name and it was as sweet as honey the way it hit your ears.
"be nice," you fake-warn with a laugh, finding a small rhythm to fuck his length to, not missing the way dick’s eyes roam your body. from the way your tits bounced with every thrust, your lips that remained parted and the whines you executed, and the way your thighs spread atop his every time you brought yourself down.
dick thanked himself that he asked you to take his virginity. his sweet best friend fucking him like it was her job… could he find himself in a better situation?
the answer was easily yes. because, though dick grayson was a strong man, happy trail littering a strong abdomen and biceps and triceps that flexed every time he brought you down onto his cock, he was still a virgin.
so, when a loud and porn-worthy moan fell between his lips and you felt his cock twitch deep inside of you, you couldn’t blame the man.
red flushed his cheeks as he looked up to you, who found rest against his thighs, hands once more finding place on his shoulders. "fuck, sorry, you’re just… have thought about fucking you since forever," he wasn’t lying, and you slipped a hand to cradle his face.
"hey, you lasted longer than my ex," you remind with a laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, allowing him to come down from his high comfortably.
and every other booty call he gave you that summer was followed by apologies, the food he grabbed from a takeout restaurant, and a mind-blowing fuck.
so, it was only instinct that when he found himself on campus again, he had to find a replacement for you. though, hard, because nobody was you, he was more encouraged to go out. finding himself at a different frat party every other friday, finding a new girl to take to his apartment.
even with his imagination running wild, eyes closed as he attempted to imagine that every pussy was yours. that every ass was yours when he groped it. that every girl was you, he failed every time. nobody fucked him like you did, but that didn’t discourage him.
at the end of the day… he still liked fucking.
and with every frat party in his sophomore year of college, came with ideas of recruitment. flyers filled with infographics thrown at him and greek letters surrounding him.
wally liked his frat, talks of brotherhood and free booze. he wore his letters with pride, and it seemed that every house on campus wanted dick.
for good reason, too. who doesn’t want a tall, ripped, smart stud in their frat? can you imagine the bitches dick pulls from that alone?
and even when he gained his greek letters, found a new girl to fuck every day of the weekend, and consumed enough alcohol to grow his tolerance double from the time he entered his university, thanksgiving break comes around… and it comes around fast.
"hey," dick grayson, new recruit from his frat, says as he’s headed home for the week-long break. a few quick hours and he’s headed into the hometown you'd both grown up in.
"hey, dick," you say from the other line, sitting in your bed, already home for the time being.
"you free anytime this week? ‘m headed home now, will probably be there in the next hour," he says, and you notice a change in his voice. the man who was your best friend had a suaveness in his tone. a sultry seductiveness that you’d never heard leave his lips in all ten years of knowing him.
it’s hard to deny the fact that it made you want him to come to your house before he had the chance to drop his bags off, but... you weren't desperate.
"yeah, i’ve got a few free days," you reply and dick chuckles on the other line.
"hm, doin’ anything tonight?"
dick grayson, home for the holidays with a trunk full of comfortable winter clothes and coats, wasn’t a fucking animal. he went to his house, unloaded his trunk, and grabbed a bite to eat. greeted his adoptive father while a chunk of steak made its way down his throat and he stumbled to slide a pair of easy shoes on.
but, he also wasn’t going to deprive himself of you when he could only imagine you in your bed on the phone with him. when he visualized the way your legs looked in pajama shorts that he’d plan to slide to the side, a tank top that your nipples would poke out of.
oh god, in the few months away, he had matured; took him work to get hard. but when it came to you? the second you opened the door, his hands were holding you in all the places you’d missed him (after seeing your car was the only one in the driveway, of course).
"missed you," he breathed out in your mouth. mint mixed with some chocolate protein shake was all you could taste on his tongue. his mouth moved against yours skillfully, lips moving in a sloppy yet patterned way that had his tongue lapping up every taste of your saliva like a hungry dog.
you laugh, hands wrapping around his neck, pushing scruffy curls out of the way. longer hair than he usually sported, but fuck, did he make it look good. "missed me? or missed fucking me?" you correct, dick’s lips still pressed to yours as one hand knots itself in the back of your hair, his other hand following his brain waves.
the door? no, you deserved more than to be fucked against the hardwood of a fucking door. the couch? he debated falling to his knees while you stood leaning against the wall behind you, tongue salivating at the thought of tasting your sweetness again.
oh, your taste.
his legs made their mind up for him, quads spreading underneath black joggers as his knees hit the ground a little too rough. if you weren’t in a daze of him you’d cringe at the sound of him hitting the floor beneath him. instead, wide eyes looked down at him, finally taking a full look at the man.
maybe you were reminiscent of the first time you were with the man. when you were the one held by your knees as he stared at you with wide eyes. but, there was nothing curious nor naive held in his current gaze. his gaze that, even while on the lower level that his knees brought him, made you feel like prey to a wolf.
wavy and shiny black hair fell just short of his shoulders, some sort of a mullet that suited him in a way you couldn’t explain. the three greek letters of his newfound frat stitched into the navy crewneck that held a ring around his neck. adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the almost embarrassing build-up of saliva in his mouth.
"not here," you warn.
"yes here."
"dick, come to my fuckin-" you’re cut off by him leaning forward, nose hitting the spot where your own thighs met. skimpy shorts and underwear covering what he wanted most. and like a dog in damned heat, dick takes a long and deep smell of your womanhood, one that makes your hand fly to his hair and a groan leave the depths of his throat.
"are you fucking with me?" and dick chuckles. "you have no idea how much i missed your fuckin’ pussy. fucked a lot of girls this semester and none come close to you."
the sentence makes you cringe. if the man below you was attempting a seduction technique, he was failing miserably. "i don’t wanna hear about your other girlfriends when you have your face in me," another chuckle.
"want me to tell you what i think about when i jerk off?"
another cringe.
"no, you fucking freak," you groan while pulling at the hem of your shorts. dick is quick to help you, fingertips dipping under your underwear in the same movement, allowing them to fall in a pool around your ankles.
"think about fuckin' this pretty pussy," he starts, index finger finding your slit and collecting the wetness on it. "i think about being in this pussy, i think about licking you up and fucking all my cum in you," with every word his lips come closer.
with a lick of his upper lip, a rough hand falls underneath your thigh. guiding you to rest your leg over his shoulder, thick muscle holding you up as you let him maneuver your body. any means to get him to shut the fuck up.
his nose brushes against your womanhood, another deep inhale. "you got me whipped," dick laughs, moving forward while he sticks his tongue out. laying it flat while his fingers help to spread the lips of your entrance. and as soon as he sees the way you instinctively move the muscles that control your entrance, he just knows he has a wet patch of pre leaking from his cockhead.
"shut up," you say, words flowing easily until you inhale sharply when the flat of his tongue falls on your clit. it's hard to hold yourself up, and given the circumstances, you can only be half thankful that the man below you has graced you with muscles that held your partially standing form.
dick grayson, your childhood best friend who-just a few months ago had asked you to take his virginity-was clearly no longer a virgin. without knowing much other than what he's explicitly told you since he's walked inside your home, he has become a womanizer of sorts. a womanizer whose sweet spot was none other than you. because none of the girls he fucked were woman in the way you were.
your eyes peer down, and you're unsure if you're enjoying dick's tongue to the extent that he's giving you himself right now. his blue eyes closed and throat groaning as his mouth moves in ways that have your knees buckling and mouth falling agape. "h-holy fuck," you moan, and dick finds approval in that, palms gripping your soft flesh until one moves to begin playing with your entrance.
no consideration for teasing as the wetness of your core has his cock twitch in his joggers. he needs you, and he doesn't care if it's more than you do him.
though, based on the slick that's dripping from your pussy down his calloused fingers, it's hard to differentiate.
"missed me too, huh?" he asks, lips moving and humming against your sensitive clit, middle and ring finger gliding their way into your entrance with ease. "c'mon... tell me you think about me too," dick groans, too eager to allow you time to adjust to the lengths of his digits filling your hole. instead, finding a pace while he kisses your clit, eyes looking up and meeting yours.
"fuck... yeah, i think 'bout you," you begin, a hand finding his dark waves and tightening into a fist while the other attempts to hold yourself up against the painted wall you supported yourself against. "always think about how pretty ya looked," you moan with a small laugh, and dick meets your laugh, though his fingers never halt.
a small glint of appreciation can be read across his face as he admires yours. admires the hair that's beginning to stick to your face and your lips that are slowly swelling from the pressure of your teeth biting down on them.
"'m not gonna look pretty tonight," he says, the pace of his fingers slowing as he finds a scissoring motion that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. with the help of his head, you straighten yourself once again, regaining composure as you repeat the words he said in your head.
"huh?" you question, and dick smirks something wicked.
"you took the reigns last time, 'm gonna fuck you all up tonight."
and dick grayson, no longer a virgin, no longer a pussy-less nerd, proved himself by staking claim on yours. because, even though he claimed he wouldn't look pretty for you tonight, the way he did when you rode him and introduced him to the world of sex, with sweat dripping off his forehead and onto yours, cum filling your pussy, and fucking you in every position he could think of, he looked ethereal.
dick grayson did as he said he'd do. he fucked you up for the rest of the break. he had you calling him for late-night dick appointments and had you slobbering on his cock just the way he had intended you to. dick had corrupted you in a way you'd never been before; finding yourself sitting and waiting for his call when summer would eventually roll through.
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blueparadis · 8 months
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꒰ I HOPE THAT YOU THINK OF ME ꒱ ⋮ GETO SUGURU →[ CONTENT & TAGS ] :: f!reader × geto suguru, angst, unrequited feelings, mixed feelings, first kiss, suggestive, slice of life, canon divergent, no manga spoilers but I wrote his character based on the first scene of the first episode. characters_ mention of gojo ( there is no Suguru without Satoru), mention of shoko, utahime, mei mei, yu, nanami. back to blog navigation.
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Rain in Tokyo has always come with a touch of melancholy for Geto Suguru. It reminds him of the dread in the eyes of mundanes. It reminds him how in weather like this cursed spirits pop like soda bubbles, it is everywhere. But certainly, sometimes it becomes a little less desolate with Satoru, Shoko, and his beloved juniors around, that is, Yu and Nanami; only a little though. Today's downpour is nothing spectacular. The splattering raindrops are hitting the window pane persistently. It has been like that for hours even though the weather forecast did not foretell such heavy rainfall. The college hours have already been over but he is stuck here due to rain along with some other students and teachers. He thinks it might be a curse to be the cause of such poor weather. Heck! If this continues some might have been asked to go for a scrutiny. Teachers at Jujutsu High are extremely fond of practical work. If only the rain had started just after he reached his home, he would not have hated it so much. Every time it rains, either he is outside or stuck somewhere or forgets to bring an umbrella. And, on the days when he is cautious enough for bringing a raincoat as well as an umbrella, there are roses and sunshines everywhere. It is annoying. Why does the weather always be so treacherous? 
“What's up?” Satoru asks leaning against the the desk, “Did you two fight again?”  He takes his place beside Suguru keeping one foot on the bar of his friend’s chair. He loves the rain, in fact, he would not have bothered to run in the rain just to go home but then, he would have been greeted by a cold soon; enough to miss some days for college. So, he always carries an umbrella. But he can not leave his dear friend alone, especially in the times of wailing agony. He refuses to give him some moments of peace. 
Suguru who was staring at the rain shifts his head towards his friend with no dunes and crescents over his forehead. His forearms are now resting on the desk which was supporting his sad face before. His eyes gauge Satoru. “Suguru, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Again with the theatrics. If his mind would not have been occupied by you, he would have been definitely annoyed by Satoru. 
“with whom?” Suguru deadpanned. He can not let Satoru be a part of this, he can not let Satoru know what happened between you two the last weekend. So, he tries to play safe by asking ‘whom’ instead of ‘why do you think so’ which would have meant the gulf between you two is highly bothersome to him and Satoru would not have shut up about it for days. 
“You know who,” Satoru can not help but smirk. He was just standing near your desk with Shoko before coming to him. Normally, you either sit in front of Suguru or by his left side. The right side is always occupied by Satoru. Shoko sits beside you. It's fixed. No one dares to dismantle this chain of friendship. But today, you sat at the first bench at the rightmost corner. The whole class has come to know the turbulence between you two by now. If that is not the case, some would have assumed it and some who are curious might have asked you why are you sitting here? So away from your dear friend. . .
Suguru rolls his tongue inside his mouth being cornered by Satoru like this. He does not have the energy to fight or avert him. He wants to but right now he can not afford to do so. He is trying his best not to look at you and make it obvious for Satoru, to confirm his confusion that something is going on between you two. “oh! C’mon ya'know you can tell me about it...” Satoru presses further.
A thunder flashes breaking the sky apart illuminating the classroom like being in the brightest daylight. Your shoulder reflexively contorted, heartbeat gets louder as if your heart just shifted in your ears. Shoko composes herself as she laughs seeing you jerk, enough to feel tears at the edge of her eyes. It is not natural for you to be frightened by lightning.
“Are you okay?” Shoko tries to breath in between her laughter ceasing it momentarily. “you startled me too” She mutters and glances at Suguru for a second. Many others also got shocked by the sudden tremendous thunder. It is natural but you had the most reaction almost losing your balance on chair probably because of the headsets you had. Rain and music always made you forget about this wretched world that you belonged and no matter what you could never turn your back to it. But even if it is just for a moment, would it really hurt? 
Shoko is not the only one who had a reaction to you. Suguru had too. His eyes are now on you, your face that is marked with wide eyes and a warm laughter looking at Shoko. He almost left his seat when you lost your balance. Damn it. Why do you always affect him in the worst possible ways?
“Is y/n here?” You recognise that voice. Kouske enters the classroom with Mei Mei and the bruised skin of you heart are in tatters now. He looks around for a few seconds till his eyes land on you. “I was here for work but with this weather, i figured I might as well drop you home, or take you home.” He stated with a warming smile keeping his hand on your desk leaning a bit. 
Seeing Mei Mei, Shoko might have gone to look for Utahime so Kouske can not be kept occupied like usual. Suguru’s jaw muscles shifted. He stretched his arms forward on the desk dipping his head in between them. “I kissed her.” Satoru’s eyes dilate at the confession. “Last Saturday.” Suguru raised his head to look at his friend and then at you. “At the cafe near her house. She was crying over—
“Are you seriously serious? You know the risks of your—
“—of my feelings? my actions? Yeah, I know. I know Sah-toru.” Geto takes a glace at Satoru before leaving his seat. Walking toward Kouske he exclaimed with a neutral tone,“What’s up Kou-san?” He stands beside your desk. “I heard about your first job. Congratulations on your first paycheck — As they kept talking Suguru rested one of his arms at the back of your chair. If you lean you would feel his skin burning against yours, just like that day, just like when he kissed you. 
That day, it was raining like this too. At the back alley of the cafe near your house when you told him how your family wanted you to marry the next family head of Hirahara, when you told him that it was Kouske, when you were bowing your head down unable to meet his eyes because yours were so full of woe Suguru held your hand. He held your hand making you pause your talk and when you looked at him his fingers found it's way in between yours filling the gaps. He squeezed your hands, his lips distorting in guilt before it touched yours. 
The first kiss tasted nothing like you had read or heard and indeed, nothing like you had imagined. He slipped his palm through your loose hair along your cheeks to get more of you but you pushed him, turned around, and left. You kept running and running and running; never looked back. 
You had not picked up any calls, neither reapended to any messages since then. Suguru must be thinking you were avoiding him but that was not the case. You were avoiding your ex-boyfriend, Kouske. You wish you could curse him, like normal people have the privilege, when talks of your marriage started to unfold around the Hirahara family. The rainfall became more vivid coating the streets and the playground in white. Kouske pauses Geto for a second and takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you in my car, love.” 
“Let’s go.” He states and Geto tags along. He waves at Satoru and he joins too. Before exiting the classroom, he looked back and a shiver ran down your spine. His look was so full of rage and jealousy minutes ago and now there is only disgust. It was hard to understand if you were the stimulus or was it Kouske? About an hour after you see Geto walking alone through the corridor. As you get out of the room, you found him leaning against the wall. You walk towards him while his eyes focused on you. 
You open your mouth trying to thank him for cutting in and saving you from his attention earlier because the more you avoid Kouske, the more he gets irritated and greater are the chances of this marriage proposal to fail. 
But seeing you avoiding him, he caved in finally. “The rain stopped. Shouldn't you hurry to your fiancé ?”
“He is not my fiance.”
“Well, not yet.” You sigh heavily letting him know that his presence is as suffocating as Kouske’s. “but he is your ex.”
“I just wanted to thank you — You start and instantly regret. You turn on your heel without wanting to see his reaction. He is surely unaware of his mistake he committed last Saturday and he is not showing any signs of it till now. You just kept overthinking about something which was not worth it.
Suguru turns around and walks close enough to stand behind you. “don't get the wrong idea, princess. I didn't do it for you, I did it for myself.” He whispered near your ears rousing goosebumps on your nape. When you snapped your head back at him he was already walking away. You were still standing in the corridor, watching your friend walk away. He must really hate you for what you did.
Suguru smiled to himself. He might be selfish for stealing your first kiss, ruining the friendship you had with him, but at least every time it rains you will think of him. There is a strange sense of satisfaction for what he did and why he did. Of course he has no chance of winning you, neither get at par with Kouske but the jealousy of seeing you with another man drives him nuts. He will devour every touch, every voice and every pair of eyes that has on you but will never give you the power to shoo him away. He will do that by himself, so that every time a man haunts you he is the only one to put an end to it, to be the cause and then cease it, the suffering.
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reiding-writing · 4 months
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erotomania [ s.r ]
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01 - exhortations
Summary:
You’d found yourself with a stalker, one who seemingly had a romantic obsession with you, and you had no idea what to do, except maybe confide in one of your team members.
WARNINGS: Signs of stalking, mentions of break-ins, fears of violence, mentions of panic attacks
pairing: spencer reid x gn!bau!reader
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mild fluff
wc: 6.8k
main masterlist!!
a/n: so… i decided to start a series- considering chapter length it’ll probably only be three parts and i hope to have them out once a week but knowing my college schedule i’m not sure about that 😭
<poem used - ‘my fire, my flame’ by ariana alonso>
thank you guys for all the love on my other uploads <33
series masterlist!!
01-exhortations, 02-avoidance, 03-revelations, 04-confession
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It started with a rose.
A single white rose left haphazardly on your doorstep.
You didn’t really think much of it, your neighbours had a white rose bush they regularly pruned, and you figured the wind must have blown one of the loose roses cut from it over to your porch.
You’d often find scattered petals and wilting rose heads on your lawn, blown over by the wind to no fault of the old couple living next door. Although you did have to admit that a full rose was something that had never blown over before.
But hey, sometimes these things happen right?
That was the same rhetorical question you asked yourself two weeks later when a blank envelope was posted through your letter box alongside your regular mail. It looked like a birthday card, the envelope a pale yellow and closed shut with a small white sticker in the shape of a rose. Curious.
You debated on whether to open it at first, not wanting to accidentally intrude on somebody else’s private business, but after a few days of deliberating you came to the conclusion that reading what’s inside might help you find the intended recipient.
You didn’t find anything of note in the envelope, just a folded piece of white paper with a typed out romantic poem imprinted on its inner side. It was odd for sure, but it wasn’t anything to worry about.
You ended up throwing the envelope away. As much as you would’ve liked to have delivered it to its rightful recipient there just wasn’t enough information for you to do so. You just guessed that it was a teenager trying to romance one of their classmates and had posted their efforts through the wrong door.
It was harder to brush off the new succulent lining your kitchen windowsill.
You’d come home to your house after four days spend in Iowa on a case, absolutely exhausted. So much so it took you three separate trips in and out of your kitchen to realise that the three succulents usually lining your window had now been increased to four.
At first you just thought it was your exhaustion getting to you, but you knew for a fact that you’d only bought three. Garcia had made you pick them out specifically. And this new fourth one didn’t fit in.
You examined the new succulent closely, trying to figure out where it came from. It was a vibrant green colour, with small, round leaves that formed a rosette shape. Unlike your other succulents, this one had delicate white flowers blooming from its centre. It was a beautiful addition to your collection, but you couldn't help but wonder who had put it there and why.
You carefully examined the plant for any clues. There were no tags or labels indicating its origin, and it seemed to blend in seamlessly with the rest of your succulents, as if it had always been there. The thought of someone entering your home while you were away sent a shiver down your spine, but there were no signs of forced entry or any other evidence to suggest foul play.
You unfortunately didn’t have much time to mull over this new addition to your plant collection as the team were whisked away on another case, less than 24 hours after your last case finished.
Still, you couldn’t seem to get the small white flowers of the plant sat upon your windowsill out of your mind, and you were starting to question your sanity a little. Were you sure that you hadn’t bought four? Maybe you had. Maybe it’d been there the whole time.
“If it isn’t my favourite profiler, don’t tell Derek that,” Garcia almost immediately backtracked as she picked up the phone. “What can I do you for my sweet?”
“Hey Penny, just a random question, you remember when we went plant shopping a while back?” You held the phone up to your ear with your left hand, using your right to continue jotting down notes on the portable whiteboard the Montanna Police Department had provided your team with for the case you were working on.
“Oh of course I do my love. Why, Looking for a professional suggestion for your next addition?” You could practically hear Garcia’s smile through the phone as she spoke.
“No Pen, I just wanted to check something,” You let out a small chuckle at her exaggerated confidence in her knowledge of plants. ”Did I end up buying three succulents or four?”
“Three my love, two Chinese Jades and one Opalina I believe. Why’s that?”
“Oh no nothing, I was just checking which ones I’d bought with you and which ones I’d bought myself, thanks Pen,” You didn’t know why you felt the impulse to lie. Maybe it was your subconscious telling you that it was in fact you who had put the plant there. That you’d just been so busy that you’d forgotten about it. Either way you didn’t want to stir up the pot if you couldn’t prove anything was actually wrong.
But you also couldn’t rid of that feeling in the pit of your stomach that rose when Garcia confirmed you hadn’t bought the plant when out with her.
“Alrighty, anything else you need from her majesty of all knowledge?”
You give another small laugh at Garcia’s manner of speech. “No Pen, thank you.”
”Well then my dear, this lady’s got other fish you fry, I’ll catch you later,”
You hear the end dial through your phone before you can respond, a usual end to a phone call with Garcia, and whilst her little quips and jokes left you with a small smile on your face, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
A pale yellow envelope.
You feel a sense of deja vu when you pick it up from the floor on the inside of your front door, seemingly slotted through your letterbox just like the former had been, white rose sticker holding it closed and all.
The difference this time however, was that when you turned the envelope in your hand it had your name inked on the front, scrawled out in a messy cursive that stained parts of coloured paper black, the ink having bled as the name was written from the sheer amount of pressure used.
That’s the moment that you started to panic.
You could put the signs together by now. A perfectly de-thorned rose on your doorstep. Messages posted through your door. A new succulent left in your kitchen after you’d expressed interest in them. It wasn’t just a series of coincidences, they were signs. Signs of something you didn’t particularly want to think about.
The last one was the worst. It meant that whoever had taken it upon themselves to form a fascination with you had somehow managed to get inside of your house whilst you weren’t there.
You triple checked the locks on your doors that night, leaving the new envelope unopened on your kitchen counter.
You ended up taking it to work the next day, tucked away in your messenger bag and left under your desk as you tried to distract yourself through with your files.
You tried to convince yourself that you were just overthinking. Maybe the indented recipient of the letter just happened to have the same name as you. Maybe this was just the last two weeks of continuous stress was just taking it’s toll on you and making you paranoid. You tried to convince yourself. But you knew.
“Excuse me,”
Your internal monologue was cut off by a soft voice, and your mind was momentarily wiped of your dilemma as you looked up towards the source of the noise, the small receptionist from the front of your floor.
“This was dropped off last night, I believe it was for you.”
In her hand was a small rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper, and she held it out to you with a small smile.
“Oh, thank you,” You return her smile with one of your own, taking the package from her hand and watching her retreat back to her desk. You weren’t expecting anything delivered, were you?
Unwrapping the package only left you more confused. It was a leather bound copy of Romeo and Juliet, the cover a deep red and embossed with with gold roses and an intricate border, the book’s name embossed in a similar fashion in the cover’s centre, although flaking in some areas from the wear of the book.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned the book over in your hands, but as you opened the front cover that expression fell straight back into concern. A small rose, etched into the inside over in a black ink pen, fit with a single letter, ‘R.’
“Hey Spencer, uh- can I- borrow you for a sec?” You stand from your desk, walking around the cluster in the bullpen to stand behind Spencer’s, head buried in the files he was working on.
“Of course, what’s up?” Spencer took a second to look up, folding the folder closed and leaving his pen inside to mark the page. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah uh- I uh- Were you expecting a book delivery?”
You held the book out towards him, eyes silently pleading for him to say yes. A part of your brain still denied the inevitable, that it wasn’t some outside person who had been leaving things around for you to find. That there wasn’t someone who knew where you lived, and now where you worked, sending you eerily creepy ‘gifts’.
Spencer inspected the book in his hands, examining it closely with narrowed eyes.
“Not that I know of...” He looked up at you, eyebrow slightly raised as he handed the book back to you. “I already have this copy at home,”
Your stomach dropped a little when he confirmed it wasn’t his.
“Right, sorry,” You take the book back from him with a pursed smile, holding it in both of your hands and tapping your nails against the back cover.
You logically knew it wasn’t for him, Spencer was all for buying things second hand, but he would never pick up a book with this much wear and tear unless was a first edition owned by some prolific scholar, the spine damaged and the pages folded and scrawled with annotations that you weren’t sure you wanted to read, but hearing the confirmation just made it sink in a little further.
“Are you alright? You seem a little tense.” Spencer’s voice cut you out of another internal spiral, and you gave him a quick nod.
“Hm? Oh yeah i’m alright, thanks anyway Spence,” You give him a small smile and a half wave as you retreat back to your own desk with the book in hand.
Spencer stared at you for a moment longer, watching as you sat back down at your desk, discarding the book behind your stack of files as if you couldn’t bare to look at it any longer.
Something seemed very off with you.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
My fire, my flame,
My one and the same.
Swiftly swinging from life to end,
Through the times, we meet again.
My lover, my friend,
My mirror, my mend.
My fire, my flame,
No darkness can tame.
Ochre to blue, two as one.
Never unbroken, never undone.
Healing the hurt, flame dims down.
Fire prevails, doubt it drowns.
Forever and true, I am your blue,
The one you felt, the one you knew.
Drunken to sober, you are my ochre,
The one who inspires all my desires.
Over and over, we dance again,
Swiftly swinging from life to end.
It was nearly midnight, and yet you felt wide awake.
A part of you wanted to sleep, lay in bed and pretend that nothing was happening, but you knew that your mind wasn’t going to let you.
You’d sucked up the resolve to open the envelope you’d stored away in your bag, another poem left inside. Except this time instead of being typed out and printed, it was written in the same ink that had adorned its sleeve.
Some of it was barely legible, but you found the words ingrained in your mind almost as soon as you read them. They were sweet from a surface level, a message of true and eternal love, but under your circumstances the only emotions that it evoked from you was a mix of dread and fear.
Your mind soon flickered over to the book you’d left on your nightstand, and you soon found yourself curled up under your duvet with the book in hand, lamp left on both to aid your reading and provide you with a small sense of security in the warm light it cast over the walls of your bedroom.
The narrative of the story was what you’d expect, the traditional tale of Romeo and Juliet, but that wasn’t what you were interested in, it was the annotations, written in the same handwriting as the poem left discarded on your coffee table.
It seemed like a lot of references to love, mainly to the female protagonist in Romeo and Juliet, and you noticed that your initials and “R.” were written a lot.
It seemed that whoever had taken a liking to you really liked you... a little too much.
There were references to your personality, how much you loved things like animals, reading books and eating dark chocolate. They had even written that your favourite colour was burgundy.
You were starting to find this rather unnerving.
The part that really sent you over the edge into a panic was one line in particular, underlined so many times that there was a small rip in the page.
These violent delights have violent ends.
The book in your hand was soon replaced with your phone, held up to your ear as took in slow breaths through your nose.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You heard Spencer’s voice ring through your phone.
“Hey uh, I’m so sorry to call you so late but uh- Can I ask you for a favour?” The tone of your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, not at all aided by the small tremble of your hand.
“Yeah of course, anything for you, what is it?”
“Can I uh,” You hesitate for a second. “Can I come over?”
“Yeah, of course,” Spencer responded quickly. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah I just, don’t want to be on my own right now,” It wasn’t exactly a revelation. There had been a few instances where tough cases left the team feeling more comfortable spending the time after in the company of someone else.
Most of them had family or lovers as their comfort, but in the case of Spencer, not having any contact with his father and his mother institutionalised, and your parents living across the country, you often found comfort in each other instead.
“Thank you,”
It seemed like you wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.
“It’s no problem at all, I’ll see you soon?” Spencer’s voice was soft and understanding, and you found yourself increasingly grateful for his insomniatic nature.
“Yeah, see you soon…”
You let out a small breath of relief as you hang up the phone, piling some things into a backpack, tattered book included, before locking up the house and driving to Spencer’s apartment
The drive there seemed to be one of the longest drives of your life, constantly deliberating with yourself on whether to confide in Spencer about your theory. Part of you wanted to tell him, you knew with an outside objective view alongside his intelligence that he’d be able to find you a solution, but you also didn’t want to burden him.
When you reach his apartment, you knock on the door twice. “Spence?”
The door unlocked almost before you’re finished knocking, and Spencer stands on the other side, dressed in tardis pyjama pants and a black t-shirt, his brown hair a little flattened, presumably from tossing around in bed trying to get comfortable.
“Hey,” He stepped aside to let you in, adjusting the crooked glasses sat over his nose.
“I’m so sorry for bothering you so late, thank you for letting me come over-“ You blurt out a hasty apology for your intrusion as you take your shoes off at the door and slump down on Spencer’s couch, dropping your bag on the floor next to you.
Spencer followed you with his eyes as he closed and locked the door behind you. “It’s totally fine, it doesn’t matter if it’s 2pm or 2am, you’re always welcome, you know that,”
Spencer smiles at you before asking, “So, what’s going on?”
“I think I’m being stalked-"
The words almost melded together with how fast you spoke them, and it’s only after the whole sentence leaves your mouth you realise that you’d blurted out the thing you’d been mentally fighting over telling him or not.
Well, so much for dealing with it on your own.
Spencer’s smile immediately disappears, being replaced with a look of concern. “Stalked? What do you mean? What’s been happening?”
You sigh softly at Spencer’s expression. There was no backtracking from this now. So you start right from the beginning.
“Well, a few weeks ago I found this perfectly pruned rose on my doorstep,"
Spencer listens to your explanation with a small nod. “Right…”
“But I wasn’t like concerned or anything because my neighbours have a rose bush, and I figured it was just the wind or something. You know, sometimes that kind of stuff happens right? But then over the last few weeks things keep turning up and I know that it’s not normal you know?”
Spencer’s look of concern only grows as you begin explaining, and he took a seat next to you on the couch. “What kind of things have been showing up? Apart from the rose?”
“Like two-ish weeks after the rose thing, there was an envelope posted through my door alongside the rest of my mail, and I ended up opening it because it didn’t have a name on the front and I wanted to to figure out who it was for right?”
Spencer gives you a small nod as a gesture for you to continue.
“I thought it was a birthday card at first, but I’m pretty sure it was a poem, it was just typed out and stuck in the envelope, no names or addresses or anything. So I just threw it out and moved on. I figured it was some teenager who’d posted a love note through the wrong door.”
You use your hands to gesture your explanation, your right leg bouncing absentmindedly as the nervous tension builds up in your body.
“And then after the case we had in Iowa I came home and instead of three plants on my kitchen windowsill there was four. And that was when I was like ‘okay something’s not right here’, and I even rang Penny to check and she confirmed that I’d only bought three,”
Spencer raises a brow, his expression furrowing further if that was possible. “Wait, it turned up in your house?”
You give him a small nod. “I checked all the doors and windows and everything but there was no evidence that anyone had broken in, and by this point I’m like genuinely questioning my sanity over whether I’d actually just bought this stupid plant myself and was freaking myself out over it, but then yesterday evening after I got home from the Airport I found another envelope by my front door, same colour, shape and everything, they even both had the same sticker keeping them closed, but this one had my name written on the front of it,”
By this point, your explanation had turned into more of a ramble, and by the time you had reached a comfortable place to stop, you were feeling short on breath.
“And you opened it?”
You respond to Spencer’s question with a nod, brushing a piece of hair from your eye. “I opened it an hour ago maybe?”
“And it was another poem?”
You give Spencer another small nod in affirmation at his prediction.
“Okay, what else? Did anything else happen?” Spencer’s hand reaches out towards the curve of your knee, effectively halting the nervous tic you’re using to release your tension.
“Well, I showed you this earlier-”
You bend forward to pull your backpack up onto your lap, rifling through it to pull out the worn copy of Romeo and Juliet to present him with it once more.
“it was left at the office’s front desk which half makes me want to believe that it’s not related, but I was reading the annotations earlier and they’re really specific and I freaked myself out which is why I called you in the first place-“
Spencer’s brows crease under the rims of his glasses as his eyes pour over the book’s cover again. “Who left it for you?“
“I don’t know Spencer that’s my issue," You sigh softly as you turn the book over in my hands. “Can you just read through this for me please? I didn’t finish it because I freaked myself out and then immediately came over here so-“
You over-explain your reasoning for wanting him to read through the book for you, figuring that if you could give him a valid reason then you would feel less guilty about asking him to do it in the first place.
Spencer takes the book from you hands whilst you’re still explaining yourself, beginning to flick through the pages one by one, pulling his middle and ring fingers down the page as he scans over the writing.
It’s times like these you’re thankful that Spencer’s reading speed is 85 times faster than the average person’s, and you find your eyes following his fingers as he traces them over the pages, taking note of how he bends his middle finger ever so slightly so that his fingertips are level with each other and how he keeps his index finger raised away from the paper’s surface. It was oddly distracting to watch.
It takes him little more than five minutes to have read through the whole thing, with him stopping a few times along the way to make a couple of comments as he does.
“Well he makes reference to your favourite colour, and your birthday...”
“....your job...”
“...and of course your name.”
“Jesus, the guy’s really obsessed with you isn’t he.”
You furrow your face as Spencer confirms your concerns, rubbing your hands over your legs as a self-soothing technique.
Spencer thinks again for a moment as he shuts the book in his lap. “I think you should spend the night here.”
You can see his gears are turning, the same cogs turning when he’s deep in a profile. He’s gone from being concerned to calculated. “No way in hell am I leaving you alone tonight.”
“I don’t wanna burden you this is a me problem-“ You immediately shut down his suggestion despite you having stayed at his apartment on multiple occasions in the past.
You’d gotten an objective opinion on the situation. That was all you wanted. You didn’t need to drag him any further into your personal issues.
“Hey no,” Spencer shakes his head as he places the book down on the small oak coffee table in front of you. “You’re not burdening me, okay? You don’t have to be alone tonight, you can sleep here.”
“I’m not letting you leave now,” Spencer adds with finality. “You’re clearly anxious, and you look like you need to get some proper sleep.”
You bit the inside of your cheek at Spencer’s insistence, flickering your eyes over to the book on the table, its embossing glinting slightly under the warm overhead light.
He might not exercise it often, but Spencer definitely knew how to put his foot down when he needed to.
“Thank you…”
“Hey, look at me?” Spencer waits until you look at him, then he offers you a soft, reassuring smile. “...Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay?”
You give him a short nod with a pursed smile, not entirely convinced of his assurance but wanting to go along with it anyway for the sake of being able to calm down enough to at least get some sleep. “Okay,“
“Let’s get you set up for the night. We’ll talk this through in the morning.”
Spencer stands up, pushing himself up from the sofa with his hands and leaving into the bedroom. “Get as comfy as you’d like okay? I’ll be back.”
He turns to leave then stops at the door and looks at you one more time. “Oh, and... do you want to borrow one of my T-shirts?”
The invitation was obvious. “Uh yeah if you don’t mind…”
He gives you a small nod as he retreats into his bedroom, re-emerging a few minutes later with a fleece blanket, one of the pillows from his bed, and a black T-Shirt identical to the one he was wearing. “Here, my couch probably isn’t the comfiest place to sleep but-”
He hands the T-shirt over to you with a small smile, stacking the blanket and the pillow on the end of the sofa.
“Don’t be silly Spencer, I’m grateful for you even letting me in let alone letting me stay over on such short notice,” You return his smile with one of your own as you take the shirt from him, retreating into the bathroom to change into it.
You feel the soft cotton against your bare skin as you pull the fabric over your head, noticing that it’s been washed recently, and it still has a slight smell of Spencer’s cologne. It falls quite low, Spencer having to have bought a bigger size than he realistically needed due to the length of his torso.
Your mind continues to run rampant as you exit the bathroom, a mix of the overwhelming stress of your situation and the conflicting feeling of serenity from the solicitude radiating from Spencer.
It was a lot to process for it to be just 1am.
You basically collapse onto Spencer’s couch, burying your head into his pillow with a groan and unfolding the blanket to throw it over yourself.
“If you need anything, anything at all just wake me up okay?” Spencer continued to express that kind compassion that made your chest tingle a little, definitely not helped by the faint scent of his cologne radiating from his pillow, joined by a trace of lavender, most likely an essential oil he’d been using in the hope it would help him sleep better.
“Yeah, thank you again Spencer, it really means a lot.” Your voice is half muffled by the angle of your head against the pillow as you crane your neck to look at him.
“It’s really no problem. You’re always welcome,” He switched off the small lamp keeping the living room, dimly lit, allowing it to fall into a comfortable darkness. “Get some sleep okay?”
“Yeah, thank you Spence…” Spencer gives you one last smile, joined by a half wave that you found more endearing than awkward, before leaving for his bedroom and clicking the door shut behind him.
For the next half hour or so you lie awake on his couch, trying in vain to sleep despite the rampaging thoughts running through your head. It was only when you heard Spencer open the door and quietly enter the room that you finally turned your head to look at him.
The surprise on his face told you that he hadn’t expected you to be still awake. “Why are you still up?”
“My mind’s running a million miles a minute, why are you up?” Your voice is partially hoarse from tiredness, and you shift around on the couch until you are lying facing in his direction.
“Just wanted to get a glass of water…” Spencer purses his lips slightly as his eyes trail over the position you’re lying in, clearly feeling a sad-sympathy at your mind’s insistence at you staying awake. “Hey, can I try something?”
Spencer slowly makes his way over to where you’re lying, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of you.
“Sure?” You raise an eyebrow slightly, rubbing one of your knuckles over your eyelid. Spencer smiles at your reaction, extending his hand palm-up.. “Alright... can I have your hand please?”
“Should I sit up?” You extend your right hand towards him, using your left to prop yourself up onto your elbow.
Spencer shakes his head. “No, no, keep being comfortable... I think I know how to fix your problem.”
Spencer then reaches out and takes your hand firmly in his, holding it between both of his hands with your palm facing the ceiling. “Ready?”
You give him a short nod in expectancy, eyes flickering between the way his hands hold yours and his eyes as you lie on your back.
His hands were frigidly cold compared to the warmth of his apartment, but you couldn’t say that it was uncomfortable, it was actually quite soothing, a nice contrast from the small cocoon of warmth under the blanket.
Spencer slowly rubs his fingers on the inside of your palm, adding a gentle pressure first to the bases of your fingers and working his way down slowly, pressing the pads of his fingertips into your skin in small circles. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply.”
You follow his guidance with no hesitation, relaxing back into the pillow beneath your head and closing your eyes as you focus on the feeling of Spencer’s fingers dancing over the palm of your hand.
“Just breathe in and out....” You can hear the confidence in his voice as he continues to move the pressure downwards, pressing his thumb against your wrist and gently massaging it.
“A lack of sleep is usually the cause of delayed melatonin production, and studies have shown that certain pressure points on our bodies can help speed up the process.” Spencer begins to explain the reasoning and process behind the gentle hand massage he’s giving you, his voice soft and quiet.
“It was traditionally used in China as a part of acupressure, with six identified pressure points on our bodies that encouraged the production of serotonin and melatonin to help with relaxation and reduce chronic pain, but in the present day it’s been adapted into a massaging technique to help people fall asleep.”
The softness of his voice paired with the gentle massaging of his fingers on your wrist quickly left you feeling more relaxed.
“There are two pressure points on different points of your ankles, one point on each foot, one between your eyebrows, one behind each of your ears, and one on each of your wrists.” You find yourself nodding along to his explanation absentmindedly as you enjoy the gentle pressure of his fingers.
“Although, the only pressure points that have been reliably linked to melatonin production are those on your wrists and behind your ears, here, lie on your side for me.” Spencer gives your wrist a gentle pull to encourage you to turn over, which you very gladly oblige to, humming a soft agreement as you turn to lie of your side facing him with your eyes still closed.
He gently slides his hand up the side of your neck, the coldness of his fingers sending a small shudder up your back, and he presses his thumb into the small gap between your jaw and the rest of your skull, rubbing it in slow circles.
You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh at the gentle pressure he’s applying, and Spencer can tell that you’re quickly falling into full relaxation. “The best results from acupressure occur after 3 - 5 minutes of continuous pressure and…”
His voice trails off slowly as he feels the tension in your jaw release, and he glances down towards your face, a small smile adorning his features at your relaxed expression. “…is best done in a comfortable environment…”
He continues to rub gentle circles into your skin for the next few minutes before gently removing his hand from you, standing up from where he was sat on the coffee table with a soft smile still gracing his features.
“Sleep well..” He whispers the words under his breath as he slowly retreats back to his bedroom, the glass of water he originally sought after completely forgotten about.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It’d been a few days since you’d confided in Spencer about the stalking situation and stayed the night with him, and fit with a new set of locks on your doors, you’d gone back home to stay on your own.
You walk into the BAU office expecting to see Spencer at his desk like always, ready to talk through your next steps forward with him, except he wasn’t there. You check the watch on your wrist. 7:45. He should’ve arrived by now. Why wasn’t he here?
"Hey uh, do you know where Spencer is?" You approach Morgan over at the kitchenette, leaning against the counter top with your elbow.
“Good morning to you too lover.” Morgan gives a half-laugh at your lack of your usual greetings, making sure to throw in a tease about how the first thing you talk about is Spencer’s whereabouts, not something entirely unfounded considering how close you and Spencer had been getting over the last week or so.
“Ha ha very funny, do you know where he is?” You respond to his quip with a slight roll of your eyes.
Morgan shrugs his shoulder slightly, taking a sip of his freshly made coffee. “Maybe he slept in,”
“Spencer Reid? The man with four wake up alarms?” You furrow your expression slightly. Something about Spencer not already being in the office didn’t sit right with you.
“Okay okay, maybe that was a bad guess, but I don’t know, who knows what he might be doing,” Morgan remains nonchalant if not a little heedless. “Maybe he stumbled on an antique Russian novel collection on the way to work or something,”
“He’s never late for work-“ You mutter to yourself under your breath, half-ignoring Morgan’s attempts at explaining Spencer’s lateness, and you pull your phone out of your pocket, dialling Spencer’s number and holding up the phone to your ear, the consecutive rings echoing out of your phone’s speaker.
Pick up Spencer.
If anyone on the BAU team would know Spencer’s whereabouts, it should be the two of you. And yet neither of you had any clue where he was.
The phone continues to ring until it reaches his voicemail. there’s no answer.
Something was wrong.
You try to call him again. Nothing. This was not like Spencer at all.
Your anxiety spikes as your subconscious links his lack of answering back to your stalking situation, What if Spencer was in danger? What if this stalker had followed you to Spencer’s apartment that night you stayed with him and now knew where he lived?
The minute your brain made the connection you were turning on your heels to exit the office, grabbing your car keys from your desk as you did so.
“Hey-” Morgan follows you over to your desk, putting an arm out as you try to walk past him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Spencer’s apartment.” You try to push Morgan’s arm out of the way, only for him to block you with his entire body instead.
“Slow your roll there turbo, everyone is late every now and again, that doesn’t mean we have to turn up to their house out of nowhere.” Morgan’s explanation would be logical under normal circumstances, but he didn’t know that you were being stalked. Nor did he know that this stalker had possibly found Spencer’s address due to your own stupidity leaving him in potential danger.
“Listen Morgan I appreciate your apprehension but I do not have time for this right now.” You manage to swerve your way around Morgan and push your way out of the glass doors of the BAU office, bee-lining it down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator.
“Hey! Wait up!” Morgan’s voice echoes down the stairwell as he runs out of the office after you, only managing to catch up to you as you stop to unlock your car, and he blocks the door from opening with his hand. “What is going on?”
“Morgan, if you want to ask me questions, get in the car.” The tone of your voice leaves no room for argument, and Morgan can tell be this point taht you’re not alright, so he gives you a short nod and goes around the front of the car to get in the passenger’s side.
Please be okay, please be okay...
That’s what’s going through your mind as you leave the BAU building, running the speed limit as you drive towards Spencer’s apartment with an awful feeling in your stomach.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on or what?” Morgan begins his questioning as soon as you hit the main road.
“I think Spencer is in danger.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, both hands braced against the steering wheel as you turn a roundabout.
“Okay, listen.... I’m with you in the fact that this is very out of character for Spencer... but there’s no use in jumping to conclusions, okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, clearly concerned at how fast your mind linked Spencer being late with him being in danger. “Let’s just approach this calmly and rationally.”
“I am being rational.”
“No you’re not, you’re panicking,” Morgan gives your shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Just take a deep breath and a second to think.” Morgan’s voice was full of a calm, soothing reassurance even as you were clearly anxious. “You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack if you don’t.”
“I know I know I’m fine-“
You open your palms against the steering wheel as if to emphasise your point, exhaling heavily through your nose as you pull into the parking lot of Spencer’s Apartment building, leaving your car parked at an angle across two parking spaces.
You’re thankful in this moment that Spencer lives so close to the office building, and you shut off the car quickly, exiting it with the same haste.
Morgan follows closely behind you as you jog across the concrete towards the entrance of the building, locking your car remotely as you pushed the outside door open and started your ascent of the stairs.
“Come on, calm down you don’t need to run-” Morgan called after you as he followed you up the stairs, continuing to try in vein to get you to take a step back and just calm down a little.
You didn’t listen of course, and you only come to a halt once you’ve reached Spencer’s apartment door.
You reach out your right hand to knock as Morgan reaches your side, but as your knuckles come into contact with the wood of the door it creaks open, the hinge pin of the door not fully closed.
Oh no.
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the-kr8tor · 7 months
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The one with the baby
Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader
Word count: 2.1k
Synopsis: You meet Mayday for the first time.
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of having children, cw food mention, established relationship, Domestic Hobie, FLUFF.
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*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*
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Toeing off your sneakers you hear an unmistakable babble of a baby. You perk up at the unexpected sound, carefully treading inside your shared flat, bag still slinged over your shoulder, carabiner of keys clinking in your hand.
The sight in front of you has you in a mixture of emotions, surprised at the red headed baby in your boyfriend's arms, curious at where he got the said baby, and anxious at the sudden responsibility of the prospect of Hobie adopting a child.
Big blue eyes meet yours, her attention caught by the sound of your keys. She claps her tiny hands at the sight of a new friend. Hobie follows her line of sight, a smile spreading across his face when he sees your dumbfounded face.
"Hi love, look who I got!" Hobie lifts up the baby by her armpits, she laughs cutely in his grasp.
"Hobie, when I said I have baby fever because of my cousin's newborn, I didn't mean for you to actually get a baby" you stand behind the couch, Hobie stands up from the cushion, carrying the unknown baby in his arms. Your stomach somersaults at the sight of Hobie with a baby.
You're immediately going over the back of the sofa to coo at them, legs jumping over the soft plush of the settee, bag slipping off your shoulder, falling on the carpeted floors. Foot caught in between the cushions, you almost fall flat on your face. Hobie, ever the hero, catches you before you fall, his free hand protectively holding your arm. The girl nestled in his arm tilts her head at you.
Hobie chuckles, "I would've asked you first before adopting a kid"
You straighten up, grinning at them. "What's her name?" cooing at the blushy baby, you lift your keys in front of her, rattling it, she makes grabby hands towards it.
"Her name's Mayday, Peter B's kid. You remember him, right?" Hobie adjusts his hold on Mayday so he could clasp his hand over your waist, bringing you closer. You're hip to hip with Hobie, moving away the keys in your hand, when Mayday gets a little too close at its jagged edges.
"Hi Mayday! You're a cutie aren't you?" You softly say. Hobie watches the interaction with a fond smile. "I remember Peter, he actually got you to babysit?" asking rhetorically. You look at Hobie with stars in your eyes, he can't help but kiss the corner of your smiling eye. You giggle at the kiss.
Mayday copies your giggling, clutching your shirt in her chubby hands, she looks up at you, babbling away.
"Hmm? Do you want me to carry you, baby?" You toss the keys away from Mayday, it lands on the soft settee. Clapping your hands signaling for Mayday that it's okay for her to reach towards you. "Is it okay for me to carry her, Hobie?" You stop mid clap, forgetting to ask for permission, careful not to overstep.
"It's more than alright, Peter asked for you too, y'know. He said something along the lines of 'good for practice'" he smirks at the last bit. You smile bashfully at the thought.
Mayday, scrunches her nose, annoyed that you're making her wait. "Aww, what's with that face? So impatient, baby Mayday" your hands loop around her small body, back cradling carefully at her back, you bring her to your chest, adjusting the weight. "There you go, hi" you giggle, ducking your head to meet her.
She gives you the famous Parker smile, lopsided and showing her baby teeth. Your heart clenches at the sight, making you cuddle her more.
Hobie chuckles at the scene, eyes sparkling at how gentle you are with Mayday. Unlocking something in him that he can't quite pinpoint.
Hobie crouches to talk to the toddler "You thirsty Mayday?" She nods, big eyes staring at Hobie. "Orange juice?" She nods vigorously, her curls bouncing while she moves. You move your hand over to her forehead so she doesn't get motion sick with her nodding.
You and Hobie laugh at her reaction, "I think she wants juice, orange preferably" you nod at her "yeah? Orange juice for the sweetheart?"
Mayday blows raspberries, "I'll go get it, sit down, lovey" Hobie brings his arm back from your waist, you already miss his embrace.
"Okay, me and Mayday are gonna have a chat, won't we, baby?" Hobie almost answers for Mayday, used to you calling him that.
You sit down while Hobie prepares the juice from the kitchen, grabbing some cookies for Mayday (and you) a few minutes later, he hears you screech, standing up right on the couch, arms reaching towards the ceiling.
"Hobie! Help!"
Hobie runs the small distance, eyes trained up to look at where you're trying to reach out. Mayday crawls on the ceiling, wobbling from time to time, you follow her movements angling to catch her in case she falls, while Hobie effortlessly jumps to follow Mayday on the ceiling.
"Why does she even have her own web shooters!?" You're panicking, moving to catch her from below.
Hobie catches up to the toddler, wrapping her in his arms. "Got you, you little anarchist" Mayday laughs loudly.
You breathe out a sigh of relief, "be careful going down, please" arms still stretched out towards them.
Hobie drops down from the ceiling gracefully. "She's alright" Mayday crawls over Hobie's shoulder, catching her in his hands before she topples over. "You on the other hand don't look too great"
You look terrified, gnashing and gritting your teeth together, clutching your chest, heaving loudly. "I'm fine" you say, completely lying.
"Hold the magic baby, might make you feel better" Hobie holds Mayday towards you, she mumbles for you, smiling widely.
"Magic baby?" You gather her in your arms, happy that she's safely back on the ground with you. She grabs the hem of your shirt as Mayday snuggles you, relaxing your tensed muscles. Now you know exactly what 'magic baby' meant, "ah, magic baby" you sigh, rubbing your cheek against her rosy tinted ones. Mayday savors the affection, smiling into your touch.
"Better?" Hobie places his warm hand over the back of your neck, you lean towards his touch as he guides you back to sit on the couch.
"Mm-hmm, better" sitting down, you move a stray curl away from Mayday's face. You gasp at a brilliant idea. While Hobie goes back to the kitchen to get Mayday's snacks.
Hobie hands Mayday her sippy cup full of juice, she grasps the handles with her tiny hands before she happily sips her drink, feet swaying as she sits on your lap. Your arm securing her in place, just in case she decides to swing away again.
"Baby, can you grab the hair ties from my bag?"
"You talkin' to me? Thought you forgot about me" Hobie teases, hands on his hips, feigning annoyance.
"Are you jealous of Mayday? You're still my baby y'know" you pat his leg with your foot. He grabs it, fingers threatening to tickle the underside of your foot, making you squeal. "Hobie, don't! I might drop her"
Hobie drops your leg unceremoniously, he smirks at your playful scowl. He rummages through your bag for the hair ties, handing the elastics to you.
"Thank you, kiss?" You raise your head to pout your lips towards Hobie, he rolls his eyes before he leans down to press a quick kiss. He leans away for a bit before he pecks your nose. You wiggle your nose at him as a thank you.
Mayday bonks Hobie's hand with the packet of cookies, asking him to open it for her.
"What am I a butler? You girls are spoiled" he rips the packaging open, handing it to Mayday, she makes a baby noise akin to a happy squeal.
You hug Mayday, batting your lashes towards Hobie. "It's because you spoil us, right Mayday?" The toddler's too busy munching on a butter cookie to take notice of your banter.
"She's too busy gorging herself, definitely Peter's kid" Hobie plops down next to you, placing his head on your shoulder, chin poking you slightly. His arm slides on top of the sofa, long enough to reach over Mayday, he takes a cookie from the box, feeding it to you.
You bite at the biscuit while you tie Mayday's hair into pigtails, careful not to tug too harshly. Hobie brings the remaining half of the cookie to his mouth, crumbs falling on your shirt. He promptly wipes the crumbs off before you notice.
"And…done!" You finish tying the last pigtail, her soft curls bouncing as she looks up at you, a cookie on her mouth, crumbs all over her chubby cheeks, her blue eyes twinkling in the light. "Oh look at you! So adorable!"
You coo at her while she continues eating. Hobie watches as you wipe the crumbs off her cheeks gently with your thumb, giving her a little kiss on top of her head. His heart blossomed at the sight. A switch flips inside his head, an important question swirls in his mind. Now he's the one with baby fever.
Hobie plants a kiss behind your ear to get your attention.
"Yeah, baby?" Voice full of adoration. You crane your neck, leaning against his chest, his jumper warm against your cheek, you look at him through your lashes.
"What do you think? 'bout kids?" He asks softly.
"Having one or just in general?"
"The former" he mutters out, arm sliding away from the back of the sofa towards your torso, hugging you tightly.
"Not now, but someday" you grin at the possibility of having a little version of Hobie running around, oh the chaos that would ensue. "One day, definitely. You?" Asking tentatively.
"Yeah, with you, yeah" He mirrors your smile, already thinking of a little you following him around. You tuck your face on the crook of his neck, cuddling into him. "Wait, a baby with me, right?" He jokes but you take it seriously.
You knit your eyebrows together, "of course, what the fuck" you whisper out the last word so that Mayday couldn't hear you. "Who else? You dork"
"One day, huh" Hobie whispers against your temple, before he leaves a warm kiss over it. You close your eyes, smiling softly at the affection.
"Yeah, one day" Your heart flutters, excited for what the future holds.
Mayday finishes her snacks, she stretches her legs, yawning as she climbs further into your arms. You notice her sleepiness, "come on sleepyhead" placing her on your chest, hand protectively over her small form. She happily closes her eyes, laying on top of you, looking at the bundle of cuteness through exhausted eyes.
Hobie reads your tired expressions, he moves you down to his lap so that you're fully laying down, he rests his hand on top of Mayday, palm over your hand that's also cradling the toddler.
Mayday falls asleep almost immediately, you look up to see Hobie staring fondly at you two.
"I Love you" you whisper.
"Love you too, sleep, Peter will pick her up in a few hours" He wipes a stray crumb he missed on your shoulder.
"Aww, miss her already" you fight a yawn.
"I'll ask Peter if she can visit us next time, yeah? Sounds good?"
"Yeah, I really love you, y'know" you say softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. He holds your hand, leaning his cheek against your warmth.
"I know" Hobie pecks your knuckles. He holds your hand, while his other hand stays over to yours and Mayday's sleeping form.
He watches you close your eyes, a ghost of a smile over your lips.
Peter opens the portal on your rooftop. After he was chastised by Hobie for opening a portal right in your shared living room, your knick knacks flying around the modest space, breaking some of it. Hobie will never babysit Mayday ever again if he does the same thing again.
So he creeps to the side of the building, crawling towards the familiar window. He peeks through the glass, looking for his daughter's unmistakable red hair.
He coos loudly as he sees the trio asleep on the settee, Peter opens the window slowly and quietly. Landing softly inside, he takes the opportunity to take his phone out of his pocket, taking countless pictures of you three asleep on the sofa.
Peter can't wait to send the pictures to the group chat, Hobie might decline his next babysitting favour but judging from how you're embracing Mayday as if she's your own, that wouldn't be much of a problem from now on.
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A/N: Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️
Requests are open for my 500 celebration 🎉 (Fluffy Fridays)
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sprout-fics · 6 months
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Engravings (Chapter One)
(Makarov x F! Reader)
Engravings Masterlist
Word Count: 4.2k Rating: Mature Tags: Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapping, False Romance, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Injury/Blood, Whump, Stockholm Syndrome, Winter Soldier AU, No Fluff, Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Mind the tags (Read on Ao3)
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“How do you think you’ll die?”
His fingers still as they trace your bare spine.
It’s silent in the solitude of his apartment, one of many he moves between to keep safe. This is one of the nicer ones. Furnished with silk sheets, the interior is immaculately clean. Wide windows overlook St. Petersburg below, a sight you never see with towering curtains blocking the view. Carefully curated art hangs from the walls, an abstract painting flecked with gold above his bed. You see shapes in it, think you see something akin to a lynx staring back at you. There’s never anything on the counters, no mess that would indicate someone lives here. It feels too pristine, almost artificial.
Hazy, bluish light drowns both of you as you both sprawl in bed. You like it when he makes love to you here. The large space makes you feel so alone, so much closer to him, like you have him all to yourself. Greedy, you drink in his scent, claw at his back, listen to his breath stutter as he rolls his hips into you.
Makarov is silent as you tuck into his side, shift and tangle your legs a little closer to his. You can’t see his face, but you know the look in his eyes. Precise, calculating, almost detached. His silence is indicative of his answer before he even speaks it.
“With glory.” He responds, fingers resuming their lazy path. “For Russia.”
You nod without any response. You’re not sure what you expected, but it should have been that. Makarov is a soldier, just like you are. A warrior, one who will kill, die for his ideals. As much as you long after him, as much as he loves you in return, you know his death will be exactly as he says. Not gently, not beside you in old age, sighing softly into your arms with his last breath, a lifetime of joy he left behind. His mere existence speaks of violence and retribution, a danger you yourself are caught in as an inescapable tide.
You don’t remember a time before Makarov.
There’s glimpses, yes, whispers of a time before he found you, but they’re distant echoes drowned by the sound of his voice. He says you were a soldier, and you know this much is true. He says he found you dying, on the brink of death. He scooped you from the ashes, rescued you from the embrace of the grim reaper and brought you here. Home. Your earliest memory of him is when he sat in the hospital chair, looked upon you with curious, sad eyes and asked you your name.
You didn’t know.
Marionette, your callsign. A name he bestowed upon you, the one who holds the strings. You’re his blade, his weapon, the arrow in his bow. You fly in the direction of his enemies, cut them down with lethal precision, feel their heartbeats stutter and still in your hands. You’re used to the scent of blood by now, arrive back to him awash in red and let him kiss it from your lips, the taste of your murder on his tongue.
You know what the others say about you. You see them as they watch you walk with him, two steps back, by his right shoulder. A designated position. If someday he were to be betrayed, shot through his spine, you know the bullet would enter you first.
You know too that you’ve accepted this.
Marionette. The puppet, the other soldiers say. Beautiful, poised, but empty. He holds you in his palms and you go willingly, holding onto every scrap of warmth he offers like it will fill the hollow inside you. The others, they’re scared of your devotion to him, the way you’d be ready to die if he asked. Yet there’s something else there too, glimpses of desire for a thing they’ll never touch. A longing to feel your skin, to see the glimmer behind your gaze. Those who look too long disappear, and you know without having to ask that it was through his hands.
You’re his, after all.
In private he calls you милая, дорогая, любимая. Honey, darling, beloved. He cups your face in his hands and presses gentle kisses to your forehead, presses you into the sheets with endless praises of your violence. He treats you like he loves you, even though he never says it. You think perhaps it’s taboo for people like you, speaking of blessings only to have them stolen as soon as you confess. He gathers you to him when he sleeps, presses your bare form to his. You stay awake just to hear the sound of his even, steady breaths, watch how his face doesn’t soften even in sleep.
In the morning he’s gone before you rise. You tiptoe to the living room, see him standing at a crack in the curtains, awash in the hazy dawn. When you wrap your arms around his bare torso, he kisses your knuckles but says nothing. Eyes distant.
Loving Makarov is hard.
He always seems not completely there with you, eyes gazing into a distant future you cannot see. You’re stuck in the present, helplessly watching him discern the spinning axis of the earth, blinking as you see constellations sparkle in his gaze. Copernicus, he watches the stars rotate with him at the axis, tracing across their glimmering brightness like he’s drawing prophecies from the heavens. All for once was a far-fetched dream of Russia, one that becomes closer with every death in your grasp.
You don’t do it for his vision. You do it for him, and there’s some days where you wonder if you could ever stop.
“Come back to bed.” You whisper against the flesh of his shoulder, and he holds your hand to his chest where you feel his pulsing heartbeat.
“There are things to be done.” He murmurs instead. He’s silent for a while, as if waiting for you to protest. You never do.
“Dress. Eat.” He tells you in Russian, as he turns to hold your face in his hands. “I have somewhere to send you.”
That’s how you end up in Prague.
Trailing an informant, one of his own. He’s a twitchy sort, constantly looking over his shoulder in a way that means he knows he’s being followed. Your mission is not to kill him, not yet. First you must see who he meets, which enemy he speaks to, and then bury them both.
December. Snow dusts the streets. You’ve long since become accustomed to the winters in this part of the world, the way the sun hides during this part of the year. You’re bundled in a stylish coat and matching scarf- his choosing. It brings him a certain pleasure, somehow, to choose how you dress. You find you don’t mind, leaning up to his words of endearment with every fine thread he drapes you in.
It’s a shame the coat will get stained. You find he doesn’t mind that either, as if he prefers the color red on you.
You sip on coffee in a chair of the cafe, wishing instead for hot chocolate. The bitterness is familiar, even as the temptation of sweetness lingers in your senses. You hide your face between sips, pulling up the mask that covers the lower half of your face. The informant sits in a corner booth alone, leg bouncing. Sloppy. Obvious. You watch him with cat-like eyes, blinking slowly, wondering if he’ll beg when you kill him. The man that meets him is calmer, dark haired, clearly English. His mere presence seems to soothe the other man, and you watch as they discuss things in hushed detail, the informant sliding a USB across the table where their drinks sit untouched.
The Englishman leaves first, gives a small farewell and shrugs on his coat, neatly slipping the traitorous item in his pocket. You wait a minute until after he leaves, watching your fidgety comrade count on his watch by instruction until he too is supposed to depart. You’ll be back for him later. You know where to find him.
You trail the Englishman into the overcast afternoon, following his dark coat until the street is empty. Yet as you close the distance between you and the spy, a figure rounds the corner just in front of him. Your awareness roars to life a moment too late, and even though you stab your knife forward the man before you counters it easily. His movements are experienced, practiced, and strong. They counter your quick, precise agility in a flurry of movement, before at last you’re forced into the shadow of a building, his broad form crowding you from behind.
“Where is he?” The man breathes in your nape. Cigar smoke, musk, the grip on your wrists speaking of a soldier’s strength. You don’t need to ask who. You already know. You know you’ll die before you tell him.
“Minsk.” You lie easily, and the grip on your hands tightens.
“Try again.” He growls.
“You’ll never find him.” You offer instead, voice easy, almost detached. It makes him pause for some reason, and you wonder if that alone has startled him.
You don’t expect him to flip you around, press his forearm to your throat and rip down your mask.
You see him for the first time then. He’s worn in the way warriors are, years of duty etched onto his face. Thick brows, a beard, eyes that you think in another lifetime could have been kind. He stares at you with open astonishment, a bewildered shock that fades to a strange grief you can’t understand.
“You’re alive.” He whispers.
You blink at him, and for the first time feel your expression change to that of confusion. He seems to recognize you. You’ve never seen him once in your entire life.
He whispers a name, one you don’t know. Yet the voice he speaks it in is that of despair, a realization that seems to eclipse the fabric of his soul.
“What has he done to you?”
Panic flares inside you, and suddenly your entire being is consumed in the instinct to run, run, run. The man holding you captive radiates a danger far beyond that of duty, a fear that roots inside you and cracks at the foundation of your composure. You throw a leg up between you, and in his attempt to dodge his grip loosens on you. You duck under him, seize the knife that had been wrestled from your grip. A slash on his leg brings him to a knee. You dart a distance away from him, shaking, looking back with wild eyes. Red drips from your blade.
You should kill him. You’re not sure you can if you try.
You run.
When you find the informant, let his blood pool over his fingers, you see your own fear mirrored in his eyes.
The Englishman gets away. It’s an unacceptable failure, and when you send an encrypted message to Makarov he is silent for some time before he responds.
Report back.
He’s displeased to say the least when you arrive, mouth pressed into a scowl, brow drawn tight. You try to stand tall, refusing to show just how shaken you are by the whole ordeal. You know better than to show him weakness. Yet the man’s words from before haunt you, repeating in a ceaseless echo that sends the world under you spinning violently.
Makarov paces away from you, but at the mention of the stranger he snaps to look at you, blinking in something akin to shock. It flashes over his features for only a moment before he stills back into his stony passiveness, and then it darkens into something that makes your stomach sit heavy, making you nearly take a step back at the glint that warns of danger.
He strides over to you, and this time you do falter. You’ve seen Makarov angry before, but it was always with his subordinates, the men who show fear, hesitation, those who don’t follow orders. You’ve seen him shoot a man dead for daring to question him, and as he stood over the man’s oozing corpse he had murmured that Russia’s future did not include traitors.
Yet this- as he crosses the room with surprising speed, as you reel backwards out of pure instinct, as he captures your jaw and presses you to the wall so the lynx painting rattles- is different.
“His name.” He growls, teeth bared, jaw clenched, and he doesn’t notice the way your hand encloses his wrist in a pleading grasp. “What was his name?”
“I-I don’t know.” You manage in hardly a whisper. “I swear.”
He holds you for moments longer, stares into your eyes and waits for your gaze to falter with dishonesty. Your heart beats at an aleatory rhythm in your chest, a tremble starting in your hands and spreading along the sinews of your body. Yet as Makarov waits for you to stumble, to confess something you don’t have, you stare into his eyes.
and you see fear.
The ground cracks under you like splintering ice. A flare of panic takes a frigid hold of your veins. Makarov is not afraid. He is not fearful. He isn’t scared of death, of defeat. He throws himself in the jaws of lions and peels their teeth to use as daggers. He does not waver, he remains steadfast, unmovable. So this...this....
He releases you, and it takes all your strength to not gasp in relief, practically sagging against the wall as he turns. There’s a coiled tension to his shoulders, his fists clenching and then releasing before he turns back to you, eyes almost gentle.
“I’m sorry, darling.” He murmurs, reaching forward to loop his arms around your waist. Despite the tremble in your limbs you learn eagerly into the safety of his embrace. “I shouldn’t have scared you. I just can’t imagine the thought of someone like that taking you away from me.”
He presses your cheek to his shoulder, and even though you stay there your eyes are unblinking, wide, as if seeing the first glimmer of the truth to come.
As you sleep in his arms that night, you lay awake with wide eyes still, the stranger’s words repeating endlessly in the cacophony of your mind.
“What did he do to you?”
He gives you a few days to rest but leaves you alone in the too-large apartment. You feel miniscule against the towering windows that overlook the city, and in the absence of his touch your thoughts spiral in uncertainty.
How did he know you?
You’re sent out once more, and this time you aren’t alone. It unnerves you. You’ve worked by yourself for so long that the men on either side of you on the plane feel like they crowd into your space. One of them, the younger one, is fairly talkative. You pass idle exchanges, but every time he asks something that even remotely pertains to you his older comrade hisses at him, as if they’re not allowed to know. As if the mere knowledge of you as anything other than a weapon is a sin.
The rifle in your hands is familiar, the weight grounding as you perch on a snowy rooftop, examining the ambassador’s aide just outside his home. You watch him kiss his wife, blink and feel something familiar and forbidden tug in your ribs.
The older soldier is beside you, his own sights trained on the driver. His younger comrade scans the surrounding rooftops for interference. He doesn’t flinch at the gunshot, the scream from the wife.
He does, however, collapse at the third gunshot. Not yours.
You bolt, rifle hoisted to your shoulder. The older comrade calls for his friend, and you tug him back even as he fights you. He acts as a shield when the next shot rings out, and his blood coats your arms. You duck, roll, plant yourself behind a vent cover and search for the other sniper. You find him on a taller rooftop, his sights glinting in the dawn. A shot dents the steel, and you focus your sights on its origin.
A skull mask. A reaper.
It tugs at something inside your thoughts, the same place where the stranger’s words echo. Distant, a whisper of familiarity locked behind a terrible dread. Brown eyes. The color of rust. They widen when they see you, and in his hesitation you fire a single round.
Your aim is off.
It catches him by the shoulder, and he rolls out of view. As police sirens howl, you take that moment to escape, cast a lingering glance to the neighboring rooftop and wonder why it feels as if you just saw a phantom.
You lose two men, and the deaths are acceptable. They died for the cause. Martyrs for the future that Makarov divines even as he licks the blood clean from your fingers.
It’s only then that the dreams begin.
You sleep in an empty bed. Cold, the phantom chases you through sleep. The bone white mask fades at the edges like mist. It snakes into your lungs, chokes the air and freezes your ribs. In the hollow of your chest there’s whispers of a name you don’t recognize. Yelling, screaming, hands reaching for you amidst chaos and flames. You fall through the sky, descending too quickly. Their voices are lost to the wind, and as you pull at your shoulder, the thing that unfurls above you is shot through with debris. The ground races up, up, up-
You fall, wake up on the floor, trembling, chest heaving, trying to remember where you are. Who you are.
The voices chase you on your next assignment, pulse in tandem with the heartbeat that fades under your fingertips. You try to blot them out, try to replace them with the sound of his voice, and in the midnight darkness they return, howling like the gale. Faces you don’t recognize, hands, touches, laughter.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Makarov tells you when he rouses you in the darkness of a safehouse. Your bruised ribs from your last mission heal under bandages, and as he soothes a hand over them you wince but don’t protest. “Were you dreaming?”
Yes. You think, and open your mouth to tell him, confess the chaos of your nightmares. Yet something howls in the gale inside you, screams in a soundless cry that stifles the air in your chest, sends your voice into wordless silence.
“I don’t know.” You whisper, and it’s the first lie you’ve ever told him.
After that, you only dream when you’re alone.
Never alone on missions, not again. You’re constantly accompanied, flanked, and you have the itching, uncomfortable feeling that you’re being monitored.
You try to ask why you aren’t allowed to go alone and see the way the smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he holds you close.
“To keep you safe, дорогая.” He coos, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. “How could I ever lose you?”
You accept this, but the hollow of doubt inside you wonders that, if that were true, why he would risk you at all. Hardly a week goes by without another injury, another bruise from a target, a mission, an enemy he throws you at and you carve into fatal stillness. It feels in some ways like he’s punishing you, forcing you to bear the cost of his love. Yet he presses kisses to your cuts, the blossoming yellow and purple across your skin, sighs endearments and swallows your whimpers with the slant of his mouth against yours.
Yet you fall into him, your only source of comfort, your beacon. You’re lost without him, a marionette with no master. You don’t whisper the sin of your loved confession even as it tightens in your chest, knowing he can never say it back lest it summon destruction. Taboo, forbidden, just like the doubts you refuse to share with him. You cling to him instead, listen to his heartbeat and try to synchronize it with your own.
“You’re shaking.” He whispers as you shiver in his arms following something akin to lovemaking. “Are you scared?”
“No.” You tell him, another lie. It’s not of him, never him. Not yet.
Your dreams are the thing that terrify you, and you fear them because you don’t understand. They paint images you struggle to discern. Falling one moment, caught in an embrace the next. Gunfire replaced by the clink of glasses and a bark of laughter. Cigar smoke envelopes you, war paint smears charcoal across your fingertips. An arm slings across your shoulder in warm familiarity, hands wrap a wound, and blue eyes turn to you in an affectionate concern. They whisper a name that bores into your marrow, takes holds like rot, and the deeper you carve to dig it out the more you begin to fracture.
Doubt, and it terrifies you. You never have to doubt Makarov. You turn to his hands as they guide you, surrender to his touch as they hone the fatal edge of your killing strike. You’re his, and his alone.
It’s in Belgrade that you begin to understand.
The details of the mission are obscure. Moving a Belarusian oligarch, a team with you. Different from your usual assignments, your carefully curated wardrobe is exchanged for plate armor, gloves, bracers. You wear it like a second skin. The weight is familiar, almost relieving. There’s not much for you to do, sitting in the back of the Humvee beside the package, watching the nighttime city fade to countryside and listening to the loud thrum of the convoy. You’re still healing from your last mission, a sprain that aches in your shoulder. You didn’t protest when he pressed it, took note of your grimace and declared you fit for duty. You must have made a face, because he’d tipped his knuckles under your chin, and had forced you to meet his gaze.
“You’ll do it for me, won’t you, Marionette?” He murmured with those dark, soft, velvet eyes, and you found yourself empty of protests.
The Belarusian oligarch grumbles the entire time, and you don’t entertain him. Yet eventually he seems to take notice of you in a different sense, eyes roaming over the dip of your waist that your gear obscures, then up to your eyes hidden by your helmet. You see it out of the corner of your eye, ignore his sly murmur and hungry gaze. He plants a hand on the thigh hidden by your canvas pants, and you resist the fatalistic urge to separate his fingers from his-
A whoosh of noise, a shout by the soldier in the front seat. Garbled, surprised Russian, and you make out the shout of GRENADE!! before the world groans and twists violently around you.
The truck lands upside down, and you kick out the window to escape, haul the unconscious oligarch out behind you, then the driver. The convoy screeches to a halt, darkness illuminated by growing flames and bright bursts of gunshots. A comrade runs to assist your stumbling stance even as you try to drag your package to another truck, and he gets three steps before he crumples to the ground. The bridge where the convoy is halted is precarious, prone to gunfire, and you can hear panicked shouts as those in the trucks behind you realize the mangled wreckage of your Humvee blocks the way.
Another grenade, and this one is close. It knocks you flat onto your back, scatters asphalt and dust over you. There’s a ringing in your ears that deafens gunshots to distant pops, and even your groan of pain sounds like it comes from under water. Your helmet has been knocked from your face, and when you tilt your head to the side you see hostiles growing closer, nearly atop you.
You stand, turn, fall again as a bullet grazes your shoulder. Yet there’s a shout then from behind you, one you stubbornly ignore as you rise once more, stagger towards the edge of the bridge.
That name again, the once that’s become familiar to you by now, the one that isn’t yours. You bend over the railing, stare at the current below, racing in the darkness. The voice calls again, and you turn, stare at the face partially obscured by his helmet. Brown eyed, a mustache, younger than your spirit feels. You’ve seen him before, and you don’t know where, like he’s appeared in a distant dream.
Hands off his weapon, he takes a step towards you, repeats the name in a cracked, desperate call. You look at him, feel fear of the unknown once more pulse between your ribs. The ringing in your ears grows louder, and you stumble backwards in uncertainty. He reaches for you.
“Wait-” He tries, gaze open with despair. “Please.”
“I know you.” You breathe, seeing the way the fire alights across his brown skin in amber hues. “I...”
A step back, a stumble. You pitch over the railing, into the water.
Darkness surrounds you.
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vypressuh · 7 months
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louder than bombs | y.h
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summary : You and Yunho’s relationship was a complicated one. But not as complicated as the relationship you both shared with Choi San, your “ex” and his ex-best friend. After ending things with him years ago, you and Yunho embarked on a situationship of your own, however things between you begin to spiral out of control putting your relationship in danger. Will your feelings for each other help you salvage what you have? Or will you lose him forever?
pairings: jeong yunho x fem!reader
tags: MINORS DNI, nsfw, smut warning, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, guided masturbation, domxsub, creampie, violence, blood warning, vulgar language, sensual language, sex talk, rough sex ♡
*DISCLAIMER : This story is mainly for entertainment purposes. This is not a representation of the artists themselves or their actual personalities and is only created to be a work of fiction. Their actions are only for storytelling and literary purposes.*
[ AVOID SPOILERS — READ PART 1 HERE ] ㋛㋛㋛
[ User Tags: @simeonswhore @hopetiger10 ]
word count: 13K
——
Regret was like a vicious toxin. Eroding you from the inside out until there was nothing left other than the thought of what could have been. Desperate clings to the paths you chose not to take prior. Ever since San, you lived with many of them. You wished you never met him. You had a desire to rewind time and make it so he was never a part of your life to begin with. You were tired of being tangled in all of this pain that his selfishness had caused you, but you loathe yourself for letting it get this far.
Now to add onto the declaration list of your compunctions, you stood in disbelief from what you just let slip out of your mouth to the man you had previously shared a piece of your heart with.
“I…I think I fell in love with Yunho.”
The sentence looped in your head; echoing like bats trying to echolocate their way through a dark cave. Those were words that you never thought you would ever utter to yourself, let alone anybody else. You swore free from the spell of “love” or whatever those feelings meant to you, and kept them under a stiff lock and key even from Yunho who you had grown into this semi-functional situationship with. The two of you, however, had a deal. You both were aware of what you were stepping into when you decided to share a bed that night—making it clear that feelings would never be involved in what you had. It kept things from being complicated between you— the one barrier that protected you both from one another, from the disappointment that could be brought on from any physical adventure— had been ruined because of you.
Because you decided to fall in love yet again.
Your heart was thumping so roughly against the cage of your chest that it was beginning to pierce skin. Your forehead was moist with beaded sweat. You wiped it away, curious to know if it was from the immoral activities the two of you had just finished, or from the anxiety you felt at what his response could possibly be. The silence was too much for you to bear so you cleared your throat, hoping to subtract from the awkwardness.
All you could hear was his rough, ragged breath intermingling with your broken sighs. You were too scared to look at him, afraid of what might reflect back at you if you did. The sudden need to explain yourself arised, feeling it to be your responsibility to mitigate whatever hurt you had just caused. But what could you possibly say to fix everything? Words weren’t enough in this instance.
Your brain finally cleared from the high you were on, giving you full autonomy over your thoughts. “San I-” You stammered, but a hand and a low tone hushed you within moments.
“You… love him?.” His voice was calm, but his words were harsh. Deserved at the least. “So, why did you kiss me? Why did we just do anything that we just did?”
The last thing you ever though you would do if you saw him again was fuck him the first chance you got. You believed that it was the guilt of knowing that you could never love San the way he wanted you to. Engulfed in the inability to properly explain what it was that you felt with words, you said with action. Though, it may have been the wrong action considering the circumstances. The realization that the two of you never shared a real emotional connection and could only communicate through physical means was the main source of your confusing relationship with him. One thing you learned however was that sex didn’t always mean love or an invitation into something serious. Sometimes sex was just that. Sex. Sometimes it was a physical love letter. Sometimes it was a goodbye.
You wished you would have discovered that sooner rather than now.
You swallowed a clump of saliva in your throat and moved away from the door that you both were propped up against. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want, San.”
San scoffed at that comment. “You can’t? Or you’d rather give it to someone else?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, running your fingers over your forehead like you were trying to make sure your brain was still there and functioning. “This was a mistake.”
You paced the bathroom floor. The words sounded more heartless and cruel leaving your mouth than it sounded in your head.
You fetched your phone and purse that clattered to the floor and tucked them underneath your arm, striding over to the bathroom sink to fix whatever damage your look had undergone.
Your lipstick had smudged a bit because of the inopportune display of affection, and you quickly fixed it with a facial wipe that was tucked inside the depths of your bag. You readjusted yourself; affixed your dress straps back into place and refluffed your hair until you looked a little better than you had moments ago. It wasn’t the same but it would do for now. The final touch was just masking the scent of sex that was practically etched into your skin with the perfume that you always carried with you. Your hair would hide the light bruise on your neck that San left from canvassing your flesh with his mouth.
“Wow.” He sounded hurt. You could not blame him. “ A mistake, huh? So, you're saying you still felt something for me— was that a mistake too?”
“Look, this is too complicated for either of us. It always has been, and I think we have collectively had enough complicated relationships to last us a lifetime.” You inhaled with a sharp breath. “Let's just end it. Once and for all—on a good note this time.”
“No, this isn’t complicated for me.” San stood to his feet now, tugging on the dress shirt he had on to straighten it back out again. “This is complicated for you.”
“I don’t want to fight about this, San. Just drop it.”
He continued anyway. “Am I wrong? You’re confused. You don’t know what you want! Who you want.”
You didn’t bother to look at him directly, only stared at the silhouette of his figure in the corner of the mirror. There was a noise rising in your throat, breaking through your closed lips and out into the air. You started to laugh.
“What? You wanted me to choose you? After everything you put me through.” You chuckled again. “You’re out of your damn mind. I’d rather be with someone who actually knows how to love me.”
“Love you?” San snickered. “You don’t know Yunho as well as you think you do, if you believe he’s actually capable of loving you. Believe me when I say, he’s not the guy you think he is.”
You almost gave yourself whiplash from the force of the twirl as you turned to look at San, shooting an incredulous look at him. What was that supposed to mean? You’ve spent years being around Yunho and he was just as sweet and gentle as he had always been. He was caring and open and.. you wanted to believe that the stream of affections that he had shown you came from somewhere deep down. Came from him possibly loving you. At least you hoped.
“And you think you’re better? You think you know everything, San, but you don’t. We didn't want any of this, it just h-”
“Happened. Right?” He finished your words like they were his own.
The two of you stared at one another. You could feel the heat rising to your face, your skin– although burning with the anger that was manifesting– felt cold.
“You say you love him and he loves you, blah blah blah, but what do you think he’ll do when he finds out what happened between us?” San said with a sneer.
All you could do was stare at him for a moment. Your eyes darted around his figure wildly, trying to reveal whatever secret meaning was behind his words. Or was it a threat? You tried not to think of that possibility as you turned back to face the mirror, focused on the goal that you were trying to achieve. You heard some minor shuffling from behind you, but paid no mind to it. The bathroom door squeaked open with a shrill, and you awaited the moments that the door closed, telling you that San was gone, but it never came. There was the loud chatter from outside where the rest of the party was, and the classical music being played from the live band.
Then he spoke again. “I was really hoping things would be different between us this time, but I guess you chose the wrong guy to love, again. Right?”
You paused for a moment, sitting on the last words that San left you with before he walked out of the bathroom— leaving you completely and utterly alone. Again. That simple word stung you more than you were willing to admit; feeling almost uncomfortable in your own skin as the sentence dug deeper into your flesh causing you to writhe and shift in place. However, he was right.
What did you really know about love anyway except the part of it that hurt the most? How would you know if Yunho was really even the right one to love you in the first place? What if you couldn’t love him as you say you did? Stuck in the perpetual cycle of pain all over again because of an inadequacy that you lacked within yourself. You loved San once, didn’t you? Wasn’t everything you put yourself through with him for the sake of love? Or was it something else? So many questions clouded your brain, it was overwhelming. You could not answer them all at once, for the answers never offered themselves to you in the first place.
Everything you thought you knew, came crumbling down in a matter of seconds, leaving a wake of unregistered feelings and unsolved emotional turmoils.
You spent the better part of the last four years in anguish over San. That night you found him in the arms of another woman, haunted you. The words “I love you” hurt you more than they healed you, carving a wound so deep in your heart that you felt it would never mend itself. You despised those words, and could never bring yourself to say them. Questioning yourself on what love really is all over again.
플래시백
You loved Seoul Forest Park. In fact, other than Namsan, this was the park you visited more frequently. It was more peaceful. Your sacred place. However, this is the first time you came with someone else, and the atmosphere was just as calm and serene as you had left it months ago. The trees dance in a contemporary style swaying elegantly in the wind, telling a story of their place in this reserve. The leaves shuffled against one another, forming the instruments for the performance; since it was coming upon the Spring, they were just as bright and healthy as you could have hoped. The sky was a pale blue, brushed with sparse, but fluffy clouds overhead. The sun hid its blinding rays behind the tufts of white that passed over it, protecting both you and Yunho from the unforgiving heat.
The two of you were sitting at the pond, surrounded with beautiful stone tablets. Some of them even crossed the water like a small bridge. Yunho was skipping rocks that he found nearby, while you watched a family of ducks run across the stone with its brigade of ducklings. One of them fell into the water clumsily. You smiled more happily than you usually would have at the sight as the other babies attempted to stick their stout beaks into the water to help their sibling up. The mother took notice and tried to see what the commotion was about. You giggled a bit to yourself, but possibly louder than you thought. Yunho perked up and followed your gaze to find the source of your laughter.
“Have you ever had a duck before?” He asked you, quite randomly.
You turned to him with raised eyebrows, but readjusted to engage in the sudden conversation. “No, not as a pet, but.” You thought about it for a moment, trying to recall your childhood. “Since I used to live by a bigger lake, we saw a lot of ducks come and go. My dad and I used to feed them together.”
“They’re funny little things, but they always seem to be on the move— never stay in one place too long.” There seemed to be something that Yunho wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. So, he continued. “I used to have one named Oli. I feel like he only used me for my bread, but he was a real pal. I think I missed a Summer seeing him since I was inside playing video games most of the time, and he was probably expecting me to come and feed him, but I forgot… never saw him again after that. I wonder where he is now.”
You closed your eyes and sighed, shaking your head in that same disappointed manner you always did and laughed against your will. “Maybe those are his kids.”
Yunho grinned and laughed, considering the possibility. “Maybe, but those ducks don’t have his feathers.”
You chuckled and sighed all in the same breath. “It feels so easy for animals to just pick up and move on after being disappointed. I’m jealous of Oli.”
Yunho smiled at you for a moment. His gaze shifted towards the grassy slope you both sat on, twiddling with the blades at his side. “Yeah, I probably really let him down, but I don’t think it’s that easy for them to move on. When you spend a lot of time in one place, you get accustomed to it. If I was Oli, I would like coming home to that nest or that pond everyday, but then have to pick up and move again every winter? That’d be so bothersome. So, if I was used to getting fed at one house and then have to find another? I’d be pretty pissed.”
You thought about his words, piecing together whatever analogy he was trying to prove in your head. You looked over again at the family of ducks only to find them now swimming in the pond together.
Yunho spoke up again after clearing his throat. “What I’m trying to say is: moving on isn’t easy for anyone or anything. It’s a process, and it takes time. Maybe Oli was disappointed in me for not being there, but overtime, I know he found something else. He never stopped moving just because he was hurt by someone.”
Your eyes stayed latched on the duck family that paddled around the lake in a circle. Always moving and still enjoying it. You let a deep breath escape you. “Moving on can be lonely sometimes, though. At least they have each other.”
Yunho nodded, looking out at the vast sea of green grass and trees on the other side of the lake. “It can be. Nobody said you always had to do it alone, though. Birds and ducks and things like that, they're not always alone when they move down South. They always have people that love them by their side, so why can't we?”
You glanced over at Yunho, looking at the small squint in his eyes as he gazed up at the sky; trying to shield himself from looking directly at the sun that was beginning to peak from behind the clouds. His once pink hair had now faded into a light blonde, blowing messily across his forehead. He caught your gaze and stared back at you. That goofy grin pulling at his lips as you turned away shyly; the both of you sharing a brief laugh.
“What?” He asked. “You were staring at me first. I can't look at you?”
“It’s not that.” You chuckled, pulling your lips into your teeth for a moment. “Just trying to figure out when you got so philosophical.”
“There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.” He started moving closer to you. His hands reached up towards your face and used the knuckle of his finger to brush a stray piece of your hair from your forehead.
You only watched him, being sure to not make any wayward movements. His eyes searched your face intently, trying to glean some kind of answer from you. “The one thing you should know though, is that I’m always going to be here with you.”
His fingers caressed down your cheek, stopping at your chin. That same, singular finger tilted your head upwards and pulled you into a soft kiss. Your relationship with him was still confusing, but you never questioned it. It was merely yours. No one else's. No one had to define what you were. You just… were.
Your lips curled up into a smile once Yunho backed away from you. You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them, rocking yourself over to the side until you landed flush against Yunho. Your head tucked just underneath his chin. He adjusted himself closer to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of your head.
The two of you didn’t say anything else while you sat there engulfed in one another. Ever since that night the two of you shared, Yunho had not left your side. Of course, he would still give you the space you needed, but when the two of you were together. It really was just the two of you. When he held you like this, you took in the comforting fragrance he had on— smelling similar to apple— and would fall into him with ease. Yunho always possessed this calming energy about him and that's always how you felt. You loved and cherished every moment you spent with him.
There was a warmness growing in your chest. That deep, bleeding, gash that San left on your heart slowly began to close.
계속하다
You had to find Yunho. Your mind slipped the fact that he had miraculously disappeared into the thicket of the party. Jamie also had to be confused as to where you went, considering you had been gone for almost twenty minutes with no correspondence. You checked your phone as you exited the bathroom, hoping for something. Jamie had texted you asking where you were and you quickly responded, telling her that you simply got lost in the magnitude of the hall. But nothing from Yunho.
I’ll undo the lie later. Sorry, Jamie. You said to yourself, clicking off the device and stumbling back into the party. It was just as lively as you had left it, but urgency filled the air instead of the fun you were promised. All you wanted to do was find Yunho and get out of here, and put this whole shit show behind you. So, you continued your search. This time, you called out for him.
You searched the perimeter first. You only found big wigs with their companions sitting at round dining tables with their share of dinner and drink. The ballroom floor was not as crowded now as many had found seats to sit in and were engaging in conversation elsewhere, giving you enough space to trek forward without bumping into anyone.
“Yunho!” You called out, fruitlessly. No answer. You searched amongst the semi-sparse group in the area. Seeing no familiar faces yet. The live band was drowning you out this close up. It would be impossible for anyone that happened to be out of earshot to hear you.
But then a voice called out to you. “Hey! Over here.”
You spun around quickly, a few groups away was Mingi. He raised his drink high in the sky so you could see him and his black and blonde streaked hair, and you sighed in relief. Happy to see a friendly face, even if it wasn’t the one you were hoping for. Beside him were Hongjoong and Seonghwa, Yeosang, Jongho. Wooyoung and Veronica were missing and- Your heart caved, but rose again from the elated feeling as your eyes landed on the tall blonde.
“Yunho.” you murmured softly.
You quickly made your way over to them, saying your pardons to those who were in the way and squished yourself between the rather large group of men that you had come to call your friends. “Hey everyone. It’s good to see you, y’all look great.”
“So do you. You look like you’ve been running a marathon, though.” Seonghwa said, looking at the guys.
“Yeah, are you alright?” Yunho cooed softly, more concerned.
No. “Yeah! I was just um… Yunho. I’ve been looking for you, everywhere. We think we’re going to head out.”
“Already?” Yunho looked at his watch. “Why? Did something happen?”
“Well-“
“I hope y’all aren't skipping out so soon!” A voice chimed a little bit away from where you stood. “The party’s just getting started.”
A hand clapped around Yunho and Yeosang’s shoulder suddenly and his head jerked to the side to see San rounding around the man’s tall figure. Wooyoung in toe with a jovial grin on his face. Everyone in the group, including you, shifted uncomfortably where they were standing. They were fine when he was with them earlier, laughing and joking like everything was peachy, but that changed now that you were with them. They all knew.
You and Yunho exchanged brief glances before he rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “San.”
He sounded agitated; trying to mask it behind that smooth and cool voice of his. You never really questioned him about his relationship with San. Nor did you ever ask him. You knew he always hung around the guys regardless of if he was there, but the only thing you knew about their situation was that Yunho had moved out with Yeosang a few months prior and San, Seonghwa, and Mingi all lived together now.
“Good to see you, buddy! It’s been a while. You look good. Nice suit.” San almost sounded believable, if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he was pissed at both of you.
Yunho looked at you again, and you stared back at him practically mortified. He squinted at you looking for answers.
Is he the reason you wanted to leave? Yunho seemed to ask through eyes alone.
San didn’t even seem to acknowledge your presence yet, but he knew you were there. He only looked at Yunho, who was trying his best to ignore him. Seonghwa stepped forward towards San, placing a hand on his shoulder like he had done Yunho, and spoke low into his ear, trying to tug him away at the same time. San brushed him off almost instantly.
“Nah, Nah, Nah. Wooyoung and I already had a drink. Three, actually.” He said, trying to recount the number in his head. “Oh! I saw Jamie over there too. She did not look happy to see me. Didn’t even say a word. I would have loved to catch up with her. We were friends once, just like Yunho and I. Right bud?”
He smacked him on the back, and Yunho only shifted slightly in his spot. He chewed on the inside of his mouth, annoyed. Upset. The others looked amongst each other, confused at what was going on, but they knew better than anybody.
“Alright, that's enough.” Yunho said, straightening himself, rising to his full height as he shrugged out of San’s grasp. “You’re drunk.”
“Maybe we should get out of here too.” Yeosang chimed up, trying to keep that happy smile he usually possessed. “We have something to do tomorrow morning anyway.”
The group all spoke in agreement with the statement, trying to shift out of the group with San, but he resisted. Suddenly, another body joined the commotion. You looked beside you to see Jamie looking wary of the situation. She looked to you and then Yunho, seeing the visible distress on your faces.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Jamie’s voice was almost in a whisper. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later.” You reached out to Yunho and grabbed the crest of his arm. “Yunho. Let’s just go.”
“It would be really nice if we all had a chance to catch up, really.” San continued. He seemed happy, but his face was just flushed with red and his eyelids lower than before. It was clear that he had drunk much more than he said. But he was coherent enough to cause problems as always.
San finally looked over at you and shivers ran down your spine. He smiled, “You and I did enough catching up. Don’t you think?”
Your stomach turned. Yunho glanced over at you and then back at San. “I think it’s best if you listen to the guys. You need to go.”
“Tell him. We had a lot of fun catching up a little bit ago didn’t we?” San took a step towards you and Yunho quickly intervened. His frame towering over the both of you, and all you could see was the way he glared at San.
The vein on the side of his neck wriggled beneath his skin. San did not shy from him though. Whatever liquor was running through his system had made him brazen and unafraid. The smile that lined San’s face had dwindled like the flame of a candle at the end of its wax. He took one courageous step up to Yunho who kept his eyes on him the entire time. Hongjoong and Seonghwa tried to pull him back. Jongho told him it wasn’t a good idea and encouraged him to leave, but he shrugged off all resistance. Yunho was unwavering in his defense. You anxiously looked between the two of them and your body moved before your mouth did.
“Yunho. Come on, let’s just go home.” You tried to reach out for him again, but Jamie pulled you back, catching you by the arm.
You looked back to see her sternly shaking her head. The people beside you were beginning to gawk in your direction, whispering to each other about the sudden fuss.
San stepped up to him again until they were mere inches apart. “Yunho. Yunho. Yunho.” He mocked. “Everybody just thinks you’re the greatest guy. Jeong Yunho: can’t ever do any wrong. Can he? But they don’t know, do they?”
Everyone looked around nervously. Your palms were beginning to feel moist with sweat. Your heart pounding against your chest; out of its usual steady rhythm. Jamie even perked up at the comment.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunho snipped.
San’s hand came in contact with Yunho’s shoulder and he pushed him back with just a few of his fingers. Yunho barely budged, his shoulder falling out of its original place before stiffening back. San took another step. “Tell them.”
Hongjoong stepped in, gripping San’s shoulder. “San, man. Don’t cause a scene.”
San ignored him, shaking free of his hold. “Tell them, Yunho.” San had more bass in his voice now. He pushed him again. The look in his eye was almost evil. He pushed Yunho back again, this time Yunho took a step behind him as he did.
San tried to press him again, but Yunho wrapped his large hands around his wrist, stopping him in midair. You could see the pain lurch onto San’s face for a moment as his nose twitched. Yunho bared his teeth and got closer to him, squeezing his fist around his arm. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fucking hand.”
“Tough guy. Then you’re brave enough to admit that you’ve been fucking the girl I loved behind my back. All of our backs.”
Yunho looked over to you for a moment. There was a brief panic in his eyes, but he hid it well enough. You wanted to help him, but San was relentless. Still, Yunho said nothing, standing firm against San’s sudden aggression.
“So what if I am?” You shuddered. Everyone’s eyes turned to you suddenly. Including Jamie. You could feel her green eyes burning a hole in the side of your head.
“What?!” Jamie said, “You two- is he serious? Is he telling the truth?”
You turned to her, tears beginning to line your eyes. You couldn’t bring the sound out, so you mouthed “I'm sorry.”
Yunho threw down San’s hand. Seeing him reeling for a moment. “Happy now?”
He started walking away from him, seemingly unfazed, but by the look on his face you could tell that he felt bad for putting the both of you on the spot. Neither of you wanted it to come out this way mere moments from being in your arms again.
San smiled. “Don’t feel too bad, bud. We’re not the only ones who fucked someone else behind someone’s back.” He turned to look at you this time. “Isn’t that right?”
Yunho looked back at him, following San’s mischievous gaze directly to you. Fear overtook you. Your face fluttered with shame as you watched the realization hit him on what happened. He knows. A tear streamed down your cheek.
“Let me tell ya’. She tastes just as good as I remembered-“
A few heavy gasps filled the room. Shocked and frightened shrieks left you and Jamie’s mouths as Yunho’s fist cracked across San’s jaw. Completely knocking him off balance. He was so fast that you hadn’t even noticed Yunho lunge at him in the first place. Before you or the guys could scramble to stop either of them from retaliating further, San was already recovering from the punch. He spat out blood that had gathered in his mouth from the sudden appearance of a cut on his lip. He turned on his toes, dealing back the same blow to Yunho’s face despite his size. The hit was much more vicious, sending crimson spattering across his cheek. But he did not stop. He swung blind again. Yunho was fast but San was faster. He stepped back just in time. The crowd backed away as well, scared of the fight ensuing.
“Guys, enough!” You screamed out but they hadn’t heard you, or they did but just didn’t care.
The two of them were scrapping like they were in the streets. One punch more lethal than the last. The once beautifully polished floor was now ruined with the droplets and spatters of their blood. And they didn’t stop, despite the efforts of their friends trying to pull them off of one another. Yeosang and Jongho grabbed desperately at the back of Yunho’s suit. Seonghwa and Mingi tried to grab San. Wooyoung was in the middle and tried to pull them both apart with the help of Hongjoong, but they didn’t budge. It was chaos. They were yelling and the people were screaming, but drawing closer to see the fight while others fled. Somehow Yunho had toppled over San. He straddled him, dealing blow after blow. San tried to fight back but to no avail. You couldn’t watch this anymore.
You fought out of Jamie’s hold on you and rushed into the middle. You moved Hongjoong aside just in time before Yunho cocked his hand back.
Both of your hands latched around his forearm and you pulled. “Yunho stop!”
Yunho quickly craned his neck back to see who had grabbed him. He was completely blinded by rage that he hadn’t even noticed it was you for a second. His cheek had been cut and was bleeding. His bottom lip was also split and there was a small cut above his eyebrow. His hair was a slight mess, leaving a few strands dangling in his face, stuck to his forehead from sweat.
You reached out to touch his face, brushing across his cheek lightly coming in contact with the blood that was dripping. “Please.”
His vision slightly began to clear as the scowl he had on his face diminished and his breathing slowed. Someone came pushing their way through the crowd at that moment. You were sure someone called the police, but it was a lone woman in a long, gold ball gown style dress. Dark hair fell down her slender shoulders and there was a look of annoyance on her face.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!” Veronica boomed.
She looked down at San who was sputtering and laughing all the same, Yunho who was pulling himself off of him, standing beside you weakly. And then over at you. Veronica’s eyes sparked between yours for a moment and you could see understanding in them. Not empathy, but a realization that this was somehow your fault, which wasn’t too far off in hindsight. All you didn’t calculate was that they would start fistfighting in the middle of the ballroom. Veronica moved over to San, dropping even elegantly, beside him to see how badly he was hurt.
Yunho wiped the blood from his lip with his own thumb before turning to Veronica. “Nice party.” He said before slinking away into the crowd that parted ways for him.
You looked down at San who also watched him leave, trying to sit up slowly on the floor with Veronica and Wooyoung’s help. Bright red bruises were all over his face.
“You were so tired of being miserable alone that you had to bring everybody else down with you. Well, congratulations, San. Now we’re even.”
Jamie rested a hand on the side of your arm, pulling you back the way Yunho had gone. “Come on, he isn’t worth it.”
“Yeah… he isn’t.” You and Jamie followed after Yunho, sure not to lose him again this time.
You had never seen Yunho so angry before. You’ve never seen him snap like that much less hurt anyone in the process. Especially someone he once called a friend. He simply just exploded. Your mind was beginning to run with everything you had heard about Yunho up until this point; trying to comb over every moment you spent together to see if you missed something—anything— that could make his impulsive aggression make sense.
There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.
Believe me when I say: he’s not the guy you think he is.
Did you really miss something? You shook the thought from your mind and continued to chase after him, following his figure as he made his way outside. Jamie called after him, but he didn't stop. His current state was earning him some terrified sideways glances from passersby who were curiously heading inside to see what all the racket was. Yunho had not stopped his trek until he reached the valet who rushed off as soon as he came.
Yunho was pacing back and forth in the still night. The heels of his shoes clicked across the stony pathway as his hands rubbed across his face. You could see now the red marks that were on his knuckles. Some were minorly scraped, but most of them had dark wounds on them. If they would have undergone any more damage, they would have started bleeding even worse. You were happy that you stepped in when you did.
“Are you okay?” You said in a soft whisper as if you were afraid of awakening a beast of some kind.
“I’m fine..” His voice was almost as soft as yours, but without emotion.
“M-Maybe we should go to a hospital or something. Those cuts can get infected.” Jamie suggested.
You nodded your head in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah. Maybe that’s best. Are you sure you're-”
“I said I’m fine.” He snapped. You and Jamie instinctively took a step back. He had never raised his voice at either of you and you could tell that he instantly regretted it, but the anger was still there so he didn't think to apologize for any of it.
“This is my fault.” You spoke up, putting your face in your hands as you plopped down on the steps of the hall. “This wasn't supposed to happen. I’m so stupid.”
Jamie went to comfort you, rubbing her hands across your backside.
“I wasn’t supposed to find out, you mean?” Yunho interjected, his words accusatory.
Lifting your head from your palms you looked at him. He had stopped pacing around now, only stood gawking at you. He looked extremely disappointed, hurt, angry. At you. At San. Probably the world. You deflated on the steps.
“No.. that’s not what I-”
“Do you still love him?” He asked suddenly.
“No!” You said defensively. “No. Of course not.”
“So, you just had sex with him for old times’ sake? Jesus..” He rubbed his hand across his forehead. You sank further.
“Yunho, calm down.” Jamie said. “Let's just hear her out.”
“I’m not hearing anything worth listening to.” Yunho scoffed in disbelief at their current circumstance. “I can't believe this..”
“We just ran into each other while I was looking for you! Everything happened so fast, I wasn't thinking. We were talking, and things got heated, and-” You slowed yourself, trying to gather the right words. “and it happened. I wanted to tell you myself, but I didn't think he would blow up like that after I-”
“After you what?”
Yunho and Jamie had given you their full attention. They were looking at you expectantly, waiting on the next part of your story. Something that would be the final puzzle piece to the mystery of how this whole thing started in the first place. Your eyes found Yunho’s; wet with your tears. You tried to blink them away, but they stung as they fell down your cheeks. You licked them off with your tongue, tasting the saltiness of them.
“After we were done talking… I told him about us.” You said, your voice cracking under the weight. “I told him that I didn’t love him. I couldn't.” Your eyes dropped from Yunho’s, looking into your lap while you toyed with the fabric of your dress. “Because I’m in love with you.”
Both Yunho and Jamie looked at you, eyes wide. Yunho appeared like he was going to speak, but was stopped by the valet who pulled up in his vehicle. The man walked around the car and hesitantly handed the keys to Yunho and stepped away back to his post. Yunho fuddled with the keys in his grasp and tossed them over to Jamie who fumbled them for a moment, but righted herself.
“Why are you giving these to me?” She tilted her head to the side like a bewildered puppy.
“I need to clear my head. You two can head to the house. I’ll pick the car up later.” His tone was more commanding than anything. He started to walk away and you stood to your feet.
“Yunho, come on! We can just talk about this at home.” You pleaded, sounding more desperate than you wanted to, knowing that his leaving was your fault.
“We’ll talk later. Maybe.”
He walked without another word around the line of cars that wrapped around the building. The darkness engulfed his figure until he was completely out of sight. You felt a pain form in your chest; having to catch yourself to breathe through the discomfort. The feeling you felt was similar to someone snatching a stool out from underneath your feet when it was all you had to keep you balanced. A sound louder than tearing metal as you heard your heart shatter into pieces—the same heart that he had helped you mend, had also been destroyed by him. If it weren’t for Jamie who held onto you dutifully, you would have collapsed right there in the dirt. Physically and emotionally exhausted from the night.
Jamie softly touched your arm and motioned for the car. “He’ll be okay, let’s go home.”
The car ride was silent for the most part other than the late night radio that played at a considerably low volume. Your head rested on your arm whilst you stared out the passengers’ side window, letting the wind from outside brush against the dry tear stains on your cheeks. The buildings you drove by whipped past, their shapes melting into one another. Their lights were only blinding for a moment, but it was better than staring down at your phone and hoping that you would get a message from Yunho.
Occasionally, Jamie would peer over to look at you. Maybe afraid that you would take your previous jokes of jumping out of the car in the middle of the freeway more seriously this time. Though, it wasn't something you hadn’t considered. There was so much that you wanted to say to Jamie, but you didn’t know where to start. You knew she was curious, but she didn’t press you for information even against her better judgment.
“Hey.” She started. “About… what happened back there? I hope you don’t blame yourself for all of that. You can’t control people’s actions ya’ know.”
“It was my fault anyway. I provoked San. I… slept with him. What happened between them is because of me.” You admitted, your gut wrenching at the words.
“You didn’t know he would try and pick a fight with him though. Plus, he was drunk. I don’t even think he’ll remember any of it. Well, with the way Yunho left him, maybe he will in the morning.” Jamie sighed, stopping briefly at a red light. “Look, I don’t know how you feel right now in great detail and maybe I’ll never get it, but don’t let this bury you. I’m sad that you felt like you couldn’t come to me with this— believe me I’m shocked, but not as shocked as you think. I just wouldn’t have figured that everything with you and Yunho had gotten as far as it had. I knew he liked you from before San, but-“
You perked up. Turning around to face Jamie in your seat. “He what?”
“He didn’t tell you? Whoops..” Jamie gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well, you kind of already did! He liked me before San?” You prodded for more information.
“Look, hey! I don’t know all the details, but I was friends with Yunho before you, so naturally we told each other everything. Then, when you came along, he didn’t say much, but he told me he liked you. A LOT. Then when you met everyone else, including San, well… the rest was history.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You blurted.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having sex with him?!” Jamie bit back.
You slinked back into your seat. “Fair point. I’m sorry about all of this Jamie. I really wanted to tell you everything from the beginning. It was just so much to unpack, I didn’t know what to say.”
Jamie let out a soft breath through her nose, gearing up the car again as the light changed to green and continued driving down the street.
“I’m not mad at you. More left out, I guess. Trust me, I don’t need to know that two of my best friends were bumping uglies and how or where, but a little heads up would have sufficed.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry…” You reached your hand out towards Jamie’s hand and grabbed ahold of it. “You’re my best friend. You always have my back, and I’m grateful for you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. So, what are you going to do about Yunho?”
“I don’t know. I feel like he hates me now.”
“He could never hate you. Maybe he just needs time for now. Don’t give up on him, that boy can’t live without you.”
You nodded and turned to look out the window. “Yeah..I hope so.”
계속하다
Two months later…
Work was just as tedious as always. The boss was getting on your nerves about some paperwork you had already filed a month ago, but he never bothered to check and probably lost it. It was getting late now, you and a few of your other co-workers had been the last stragglers and all you wanted to do was finish up the work you needed so that you could get home. You and Jamie had planned to meet up for dinner at a local tteokbokki spot that you had yet to try, but she was still stuck in Jinju for business. So, you decided to pick up some extra hours at work as well.
You clicked away on your keyboard; unmotivated and robotic in your approach to the case file you were working on. You took steady sips of your energy drink, which was probably a bad idea in the grand scope of things but that was how you got things done nowadays. You barely slept ever since that night, and you couldn’t work well otherwise so you depended on energy shots and caffeine to keep you alert.
Your phone chimed suddenly and you almost knocked over your tumbler cup trying to retrieve it. You scrambled for stability, dropping your head as a relieved, but anxious sigh exited your mouth. Righting the cup, you hurriedly checked your phone only to see a message from some clothing company you shopped at before text you about a new sale. Disappointed, you went to your other message threads, scrolling to his name, which wasn’t far down. Tapping on it, you saw all of the messages you had sent him over the last two months since that night, but there was never an answer. Some of the messages in the beginning were paragraphs, some short and some long. You apologized to him over and over wanting to explain everything. Some were you lashing out in frustration over the fact that he wouldn’t answer you or give you the time of day. The lengths of your text to him dwindled over time. You messaged him about festivals in the area, movies that were coming out soon, or video games you think he would be interested in. You sent texts wishing him well. Texts asking how he was. Still nothing.
Jamie tried to keep you hopeful, telling you that he was just busy traveling or work got in the way, but you knew the truth: he was done with you. Your last message to him was a week ago.
I’m really sorry for everything, Yunho. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I want to fix it. I miss you, but if you don’t feel the same then…I don’t blame you. I’m sorry again, but I don’t think I can go without you anymore. I guess this is goodbye.
Just reading it again felt like someone was using your heart as target practice and you quickly swiped out of the message. You didn’t expect him to forgive you for what happened, at least not right away. But you had not expected complete radio silence either. The way you two had left things wasn’t ideal, and you desperately wanted to fix them with him, but he just wouldn’t let you. Like you said before, you couldn’t blame him for the way things were now. You just wished they were different.
You finished up the last of your work and printed everything out, stuffing it in a manila folder and depositing it in the mailbox on your boss's door for him to check in the morning. You gathered your things and tidied up your workspace. You could do your timesheet later when you were home, you just wanted to get out of here. Saying your goodbyes to your coworkers, you stepped out of the office and took the elevator down to the base floor.
The security guard was mainly the only one in the area, watching over the front desk. The two of you said your goodbyes as well as you stepped out into the night air of Seoul. There was a small trickle of rain, but you weren’t bothered by it too much. You jogged to the end of the street corner and raised your hand for an oncoming taxi to take you home. Once he stopped for you, you climbed inside and let him drive off, telling him your desired destination.
You followed your new set routine with Jamie and let her know that you were leaving work and heading home. Since you two were primarily separated these days for work, it was a good update strategy. She answered within minutes.
제이미
Be safe. Wont be home until tomorrow! Know you didn’t eat anything so I ordered you food. Should be outside by the time you get there. enjoyyyyy ♡
You smiled down at your phone and thanked her. You don’t know what you would do without Jamie. She was probably your only constant in this ever changing world and you loved her for it.
The ride lasted another fifteen minutes and you were outside of your apartment building. You slid the driver cash and thanked him before getting out of the car. The rain was starting to pick up, so you placed your bag over your head and ran to the entryway. You punched in your apartment code and the door buzzed, granting you entry into the nicely decorated and warm foyer. There was a large front desk where two people sat watching monitors. A single overhead chandelier illuminated the space around you in a bright orange, and there was a white carpet that stopped just halfway info the center of the room. The ones at the front desk greeted you kindly as you passed, slightly damp from the oncoming storm, walking further into the building where the first four sets of elevators were for your wing. You pressed the button to go up to the tenth floor and waited as the elevator came down from its last stop. When the machine chimed, the doors opened and a few people stepped off leaving you to enter the elevator alone, which you didn’t mind.
You just had another large space to yourself. The elevator rose higher and higher and you watched each floor change one after another. Finally, the tenth floor came and you skipped off of it. You walked down the hall, spotting your door, which was just in the center. The stairwell was not far from it, and you were reminded that you should start using the stairs more often. There was also a man leaning over the railing, jet black hair blinding you from his face. He had on a dark coat and rings, and looked like he was in deep thought, letting his thumb toy with his body lip. You didn’t really pay him any mind, but you didn’t recognize him either. Probably just another tenant. You came to stop at your door where a bag of food was laid at the foot of the wood. You bent over to pick it up and punched in the alarm lock pin. The door’s mechanism whirred and disjointed. You pushed down the handle to enter and stopped at the sound of your name. Startled, you whipped around. The man had turned around to face you, an anxious glance in his eyes. Your irises adjusted on his face for a moment and your heart dropped into the pits of your stomach.
“Yunho?” You almost had not recognized him without his blonde hair. It threw you for a moment, but more so that he was at your front door. “I didn’t know it was you, you look different.”
“In the flesh..” He straightened himself and cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Can we talk?”
Irritation grew in you. “Now you want to talk to me?” You spoke roughly. You didn’t mean to give him an attitude, but a part of you wasn’t sorry for it. He had ghosted you for two months and now he wanted to talk about that night?
“Please.” He said. It sounded more like he was commanding you, than requesting you even in that soft voice of his.
You stared at him and sighed, defeated. You couldn’t be upset at him, no matter how angry you were deep down. You turned and opened the door, setting your things down on the table in the hall and motioned him to step in. He did so without hesitation, walking slowly into the apartment like he hadn’t been here a thousand times over. The both of you kicked off your shoes and you closed the door behind him, letting the air thicken with the sudden tension. It was so thick that it was almost impenetrable. You felt uncomfortable walking around your own home.
You offered him something to drink, but he declined. He instead took off his thick coat, revealing a black short sleeve shirt with some design on it that you could not fully make out. A gold chain was hidden behind the collar that went up to his neck and now glimmered in the light overhead. You walked over to the kitchen island and leaned against it, Yunho sat on the back of the couch, rather uncomfortably due to his long legs, but stayed there anyway.
“I’m sorry for popping up unannounced. I should have told you, but..” He folded his arms. “I had just come off a flight, and it would have been rude if I didn’t answer everything else you sent.”
So, he did see them.
“You ignored everything else anyway. It wouldn’t have made much of a difference.”
Yunho nodded. “I deserved that.”
“So you’ve been traveling this whole time?” You asked, slightly unconvinced.
Yunho shrugged. “Not the whole time, but for most of it. I was in the US for work.”
“I see.”
“Look, it may not mean much now, but I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say to you after everything that happened. I really tried to, but I couldn’t express what I was feeling well enough. I’ve never been good at that stuff. I read everything. Even the last one. It took a lot for me to come see you to say this, but I’m not here to hear you apologize anymore. I’m here to apologize.”
You listened to him, swallowing the thick clump of saliva that was stuck in your throat. “Why now?”
“Because it was wrong of me to leave how I did, twice.” Yunho said. “I tried to forget about you. I was so upset and confused by everything then, and what you said to me only confused me more. I didn’t know what to think. As time went on, I realized that I wasn’t even upset that you and San… you know. I mean I was, for a while, but the more I thought about it, it wasn’t just that. It was because I thought I lost you to him, again.”
“Lost me to him?” You stopped yourself to think. The conversation you had with Jamie in the car coming back to you in waves. “Because you wanted me before he did.”
Yunho’s eyes flickered up to you. “How did you know that? It was Jamie, wasn’t it?”
You nodded. Yunho laughed and shook his head. “Yeah. I wanted to ask you out. He knew it, but he swooped in. The rest well, you know. I have always hated that son of a bitch since then, but for the sake of the friendship, I buried it and the feelings I had for you.”
“So, did you plan to sleep with me that night as some kind of revenge or something?”
“No. Same reason you slept with him: it just happened like that.” Yunho said confidently. It was a dig for sure and you felt it, but he wasn’t wrong.
“I deserved that.” You stared down at the ground, admitting your wrong in the situation.
“I hate to say that I read your last message a little too late. I should have just taken some time and gathered my thoughts and talked to you, but I was being childish, selfish. I didn’t consider how you felt at that time. And I’m really sorry.” Yunho moved off of the couch and started making a beat towards you, slowly. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”
Your eyes returned to his. “What?”
“You said you think this is goodbye. It’s not.” Yunho was only a few steps away from you now. You tried to mesh yourself with the kitchen island. “It can’t be because we’re not saying goodbye.”
Yunho was looming over you now. His size alone was intimidating. The way he gazed down at you through the strands of his dark hair was enough to send a tingle down your back. You had to completely look upwards in order to see him.
“Maybe we should.” You didn’t even believe that, but with everything that had happened between you. Maybe San was right. Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought. Maybe you didn’t love him. Maybe he didn’t love you. “We don’t need anything complicated anymore .”
“I don’t want anything complicated. I want you.” Yunho placed both of his hands on either side of your body, locking you in the center of the counter. Past images flashed in your head. His scent. That same familiar scent wafting against you. Those eyes that stared daggers into your soul. The way his lips felt against yours. The way his hands caressed over your body like they were searching for something important. “I want to hold you when I want to. Kiss you. Touch you. I don’t want to sneak around with you anymore. I don’t care about anything that happened before. I just want you.”
You shut your eyes for a long moment as he pulled you into him with his words alone. He was so close to you that you were almost afraid to breathe, scared that if it took you too long to think that it could be the very end of this moment entirely. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted Yunho— you wanted to be with him.
“What if I’m not right for you?” You muttered.
“You’re perfect.” Yunho rested his forehead against yours and spoke softly as if he were pleading with you. “I need you, baby. Forgive me.”
You felt yourself unravelin his hands. Your convictions held no weight against the feelings that were churning inside of you again just from being in close proximity with him. The days and weeks without being with Yunho had blended together in a messy, and misconstrued mixture that you had lost track of time. Four years ago, San had stopped the clock on your existence, but Yunho had made time move again. You felt alive with him. Your heart pumped with enthusiasm and longed for your next meeting. Your hand reached towards his face that was now free from the cuts and bruises that you remembered. You ran your thumb over the spot just below his eye, feeling the tenderness of his skin. Traveling down to his lip, remembering where the thin cut was.
“I forgive you..” You whispered back to him.
Yunho did not want to waste more time and neither did you as he took the opportunity to erase the small gap between you. Especially with his wing span, he had no problem scooping you into his arms and crashing into your lips. Your feet had left the ground in a moment’s notice, and you were clinging to him for dear life with your legs flung haphazardly around his small waist. But with his hands gripping onto your ass, you felt stable enough to continue. His lips were exactly how you remembered them. Sweet and soft, fluffier than before, but that fiery passion was the same. Though the kiss was deep and filled with longing, it was only obvious the hunger that underlined every blissful embrace. Yunho carried you off somewhere away from the counter, but you were unaware of where he was headed considering you were handling other matters.
For a moment, your back collided gently with a wall. Yunho pinned you against it, while your fingers entangled themselves in his hair. His tongue pressed against your lips, asking for entrance before you parted them, letting his snake-like appendage traverse the depths of your mouth. You delightfully sucked on his tongue, The sloppy, wet kiss deepening with each go. You mewled approvingly and then suddenly you were on the move again. Yunho kept you steady against him as he pushed through one of the two bedroom doors in the apartment, hoping that yours was the right one.
“God, I want you so bad.” You cooed breathlessly, breaking the kiss for just a moment.
“Don’t worry baby, you’ll have me real soon.” His words were smooth, and you felt a twinge between your thighs.
Yunho walked a few more steps into the bedroom. Yunho tossed you on the bed and you laughed slightly as your body bounced from the impact. He was on top of you again in seconds, caging you inside his arms yet again; his fingers digging into the fabric of your linens. His lips collided with yours again, every peck more calculated than the last. One of Yunho’s hands cupped your face, before sliding from your cheek down to your jaw and clasping around it, holding you still while his tongue dived deeper into your mouth. He had a naturally gentle nature, but he could also be controlling when it came to the bedroom and you loved it. He gave you enough power and control for him to instantly take back when it suited him. With his lower half laying flush in between your thighs, he ground himself into you slightly. You moaned quietly against his lips, feeling the stretch of his jeans pressing against your folds. The friction sent waves of sensations through you and you could feel moisture trickling beneath the layers of your clothing.
Your hands scavenged across his body; feeling his biceps, his broad shoulders, the wideness of his back contrasting with his regularly slim build. You fisted his shirt, pulling the fabric free from it being tucked inside of his jeans, feeling the light pop in your palms once it was free. Yunho broke the kiss for a moment, still straddling you beneath him and sat up into the air, removing the bothersome piece of clothing from his body and tossing it away. The true length of him was free. His abs like ripples against the original build of his skin and you couldn’t help, but touch them. Licking against your own lips like you had come across a new meal to divulge in. The only thing that remained were his pants and that singular chain that laid lifeless against his collarbone. Yunho stared down at you the whole time, keeping your attention focused on him.
“This has to come off too,” he commanded, nodding towards your work shirt. You looked down and watched as Yunho fit a single finger into your shirt and popped every last button like it was nothing. Your chest now exposed to the cool breeze, revealing your black bralette. A sigh escaped Yunho’s lips. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
The tip of his fingers grazed against your neck, running down just where the dip of your collarbone met the lining of your breasts. Your skin bristled at his touch. His hand opened and clasped around your throat; thumb digging into your skin just a bit with the applied pressure on your jugular. He pulled you up to him, even though you were a quarter of his height sitting down, and he kissed you again. You shook yourself out of your long sleeved shirt and tossed it aside as Yunho had, not sure where it landed in the room, but you didn’t care. The hand around your throat unlatched suddenly, almost hesitant, and it was already sliding into your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling. You whined out to him, but he didn’t care. It felt good to you, like a juxtaposition to the sweetness of the kiss, and you wanted it to stay there, just a little while longer. You wanted to stay here with him forever.
The next thing you knew, you were undoing the clasp in his pants. Fiddling with the belt strap until you felt some give. It had been so long since you felt him—you wanted to have him devour you from the inside out, digging so deeply inside of you that he may strike gold. To call his name like he was too far away to hear, for him to claim you like you were his. You wanted him. You needed him.
You kissed him harder, erasing the softness from before, but dousing your kiss in hunger and desperation. Through frustrated grunts, and Yunho’s help, you managed to undo the latch on his pants, tugging them off of him. Yunho kicked them off haphazardly, keeping his focus 100% on you.
He grinned between kisses. “You’re so desperate for me to fuck you, aren’t you?”
There was a throbbing between your legs as he said this. A beat that was calling out to him, and you were aching more and more. You nodded, looking up at him pitifully.
He pushed you back against the bed, the look in his eye darker than before. Your breath hitched in your throat as he crawled back on top of you. You searched his face wildly, wondering what he was going to do next.
“Did you miss me?” He asked you softly. His hand copied the same motion as before, caressing your face first, then your neck, your chest, rubbing circles around your breast before he came to your stomach. You winced slightly, not from pain, but a slick ticklish feeling— your stomach caving under his touch.
“I missed you everyday.” You responded.
Yunho seemed to like that answer because a large smile tugged at his lips. He looked down to follow his hand making sure it was going in the right direction then back at you. His slender fingers fit right between the space in your pants and your groins, running over the mound that was concealed to him. You shifted in his grasp and sighed softly. The pad of his finger came in contact with your clit and you jolted slightly, sliding down to feel the wetness ruining your panties. He rubbed there for a while, watching you squirm and writhe beneath him.
“I can tell. You’re already soaking and I barely even touched you yet. You were always such a pretty little whore for me.” Yunho pulled his hand out and brought them up to his lips, tasting your secretions and groaning in approval of the flavor. “You taste so good, baby.”
The sight must have reached something deep in the pit of your stomach because you were even more turned on than before. You wanted him to take you right there. Not feeling embarrassed to show how much you wanted him to fuck you. For Yunho, however, that fact was obscenely obvious.
“Please Yunho,” you begged. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Yunho chuckled at your pleas, readjusting himself at the foot of the bed now. “I guess I spoiled you too much before.” He reached down and dug his fingers on the inside of your work pants and tugged you towards him, you yelped as you slid against the framing of the bed, your pants loosening from around your waist and exposing your panties. “You’re such a brat when you’re horny.”
He swiveled your pants off of you completely, raising your hips so that it could help him more. He stared down at you, looking at the wet spot in your panties and the fragility of your body. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip and he smiled, dastardly. Like he was thinking of something. You on the other hand were growing slightly impatient. Your inner walls were pulsating like crazy. Your mind was whirring with all the possible ways that he could fuck you and how horribly you wanted him go do so. The feelings you felt were agony, and you knew he felt them too with the hard-on forming beneath his boxers. You watched now as he rubbed himself dutifully, caressing his size beneath the fabric; you felt a moan coming just from watching him. You went to touch yourself as well, but Yunho smacked your hand away.
“Not so fast princess. You only touch yourself when I say so.” He almost seemed like he was going to bite you the way he spoke so roughly. It did not deter you, but you could see he was irritated. It made you want to press him further.
“So, why don’t you touch me?” You asked in a coy voice.
“Punishment. I may not be mad at you, but it’s the least you deserve for now.” He said, finding the smile in his words again.
“You’re cruel.”
Yunho shrugged. “It’s the way the world works. Since you want to touch what belongs to me so badly, go ahead, but when I say stop. I mean it.”
Your eyes sparkled. Watching Yunho as he freed himself from his boxers, never taking his eyes off of you, who followed the bounce in his girth. It had been so long since you saw his mass, you wondered if he had grown. He looked bigger than before. Your cunt pulsed again. You spread your legs and slithered your hand down to your panties and pulled the moistened fabric aside, letting it crumple between your inner thigh. You ran your hand down the center folds, watching Yunho intently. He was completely in a trance watching you fondle yourself. You played with your clit, circling your fingers around it and moaning softly. Yunho ran his hand along his shaft, pumping himself, eyes locked on your body. You imagined his hand there touching you again, your juices pouring out from you and onto the bed sheets; overflowing like a running sink.
“Shit..” he mumbled under his breath. “Keep touching yourself like that. You look so sexy..”
Per his command you continued, sliding your fingers inside of yourself now and listening to the squelch of your insides. Another hand played with your breasts, grabbing and circling around each of them, giving Yunho a full show, which he seemed to utterly enjoy more than he thought. The two of you stayed like that for a while. The sensation was too good, you thought you would make yourself cum right there in front of him. You shut your eyes for a second and moaned out to the sky, calling for whatever powers there may be, but a hand stopped you from going forward, stealing your pleasure from you.
“You’re such a good girl.” Yunho said in an exasperated voice, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good.”
He grabbed one of your legs and pushed it back towards your shoulders as he laid himself into you. You only had a brief moment to adjust as you felt Yunho rub his thick member between your bottom lips, and he watched your face as he did so. He knew you were still sensitive from how you touched yourself just a few moments before and was using that to his advantage. He knows your body too well. He knew what made you tick and that’s what made him dangerous when he was in control. He smacked his girth against your wetness a few times before slipping into you without resistance.
“Oh my god,” Your brow furrowed. Eyes rolling towards the ceiling as the pressure inside of you built up all over again.
The moan you pushed out was loud. Too loud. You thought about the fragility of the walls around your apartment, knowing they weren’t thick enough to contain your passion. You absentmindedly apologized to them, but Yunho didn’t seem to care nor had he ever. He continued pushing himself deeply inside of you, grunting and trying to hold back his own moans. You gripped onto Yunho’s arm that was locked by your head, your nails scraping across his skin.
“Fuck, you feel even better around me than I remember.” He spoke, his voice more scratchy and gravely now.
Then he started to move. His strokes were fluid, but monstrous. Like he was doing push ups inside of you, but letting his pelvis do most of the work. His arms held him upright, bulging as he came down inside of you, plus with him holding the weight of one of your legs on his shoulder as well, he was not sparing a single motion to ensure you felt everything.
“Yun-ah..” you tried to call his name but it fell short with the moans falling through your lips.
“Look at me.” He growled, grabbing your jaw like he had earlier and forcing your gaze to him while he fucked you. “My pretty girl.”
Your eyes were locked on his, but would occasionally be distracted by the gold chain that was bouncing in your face as well. It was hypnotizing, but liberating in the sense that this was your reward for all of your efforts being good for him.
“You feel so good… fuck.” You pleaded, wrapping your other leg around his waist to deepen his strokes.
“Yeah? You miss me fucking you like this?” He asked.
You nodded weakly.
“Use your words baby.” He said with a sly grin, moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and squeezed. “Speak.”
The grip he had on you made you lightheaded. You couldn’t think properly with the way he was fucking you, more less form an intelligible sentence. Suddenly, a small but searing pain rose in your cheek as you glanced back at Yunho who had slightly popped your cheek, forcing you to pay attention to him again.
“Don’t make me repeat myself baby. Talk to me.” He said.
“I missed feeling you inside of me. I feel good with you in me.” You managed to speak through half breaths.
Yunho continued to work his magic, digging himself deeper and deeper inside of you to get you worked up. Your pussy gripped and released him, trying to keep up with his pace; gushing with the juices that he fucked out of you. Your body responded to him so well as if he was the one controlling it. He swiveled his hips and kept his strokes in a wave like motion, whilst he pounded into you, sending bursts of his aggression through your needy cunt and out through your mouth in the form of guttural moans. You held him close, clawing at his back muscles with your nails. Yunho grunted from the pain, but took it anyway. Fucking you harder than before.
Your stomach pulled. You were almost at your limit. The room was filled with the raunchy sounds of your sex, sounding like music to your ears, but probably like a fight to others. Yunho was relentless, pumping into you everything he had without mercy.
“You take me so well, like a good fucking girl.” He huffed, slamming into you forcefully. The jolts could have sent you slamming into the mattress, but they felt good.
Yunho hissed as his pace was beginning to falter. He gritted his teeth and dropped his head on the side of yours, rutting himself into you. You held him still, fingering his hair to calm him as the two of you belched your moans. His skin felt damp to the touch, but so did yours. The heat clung to your bodies from the overexertion. He was starting to sound more desperate. You were hanging on a thread of insanity. Feeling like you were going to burst at any second.
“Yunho, I’m close..” You murmured.
“Hold it, baby..” He struggled to say. “I want us to cum together.”
You nodded, trying to force the feeling down for just a little more. You didn’t want it to end, but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either, which wasn’t much at all. Yunho rolled his hips against you, sliding in out of your bundle with ease. His pace quickened for a moment and you jumped as he cursed out in your ear.
“Fuck!” He bellowed through nashed teeth. He pumped himself a few more times. “I’m about to cum. Cum with me.”
You did not hesitate to listen this time. With unleveled and shaky breaths, your eyes roll closed and you ride out the rest of his orgasm on his dick. The two of you rocking back and forth until you finally burst. You climax on him, and Yunho fills you to the brim with his cum. His groans were muffled as he hid himself in your neck, gnawing at the flesh there like it was something to hold onto. You could feel him flowing into you, covering your insides with his seed. You tried to catch your breath, letting your juices intermingle with the others. You breathed heavily together. Yunho’s back rose and fell in a broken rhythm for a moment before righting itself. He placed a kiss on your neck and sat up, still hovering over you. Your head fell back from the exhaustion.
Yunho brushed your hair from your face and looked down at you with a tired smile. There was a new found glimmer in his eye, and it sparkled much more than the chain around his neck in the light. He said nothing, only stared at you like there was nothing else in the room.
“What?” You asked softly.
He shook his head, softly caressing your hair and face before he spoke. “I love you.”
Your heart skipped a beat for a second. The two of you exchanged glances and a large, and loving smile was shared between you both. For the first time since you heard those words being said, your heart felt free. No longer locked in the cage you had put it in so long ago as you finally and confidently could mutter those same words back to someone else.
“I love you too, Yunho.”
“I think we should name our kid Oli.” He said suddenly.
You rolled your eyes and groaned, hitting him in his shoulder.
“Ow what?! I’m just saying.”
“You’re so unserious.”
530 notes · View notes
mayadarlings · 21 days
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Good things happen to those who wait.
—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, AFAB! Slow?? Sex toys, a man way too big, size kink. Fingering.
★- Part 1 here!! Part 2 here!!
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You regret missing it. The night GD streamed, you were stuck at work and time was not on your side. Even if you managed to show up, you doubted you could compete with those who had bottomless wallets for donations. By the time you got home, the stream had ended and a lucky winner had claimed their prize, leaving you frustrated at being outdone by someone with more money to spare.
After that, there was a complete lack of communication. No live streams, no new videos. Total silence for five long months. You couldn't help but constantly check his page, refreshing it so frequently that your browser started suggesting it the moment you typed in his name. It was necessary; what if he suddenly returned and started streaming while you weren't paying attention? That would be unacceptable. So you remained his dedicated watcher, eagerly anticipating his return to once again capture your heart and even cause some inevitable arousal.
With no new posts to peruse, you exhausted all of the content already shared on his page. His previous streams and videos became a regular part of your nightly routine – laptop open, legs spread, fingers working their magic as you reached climax again and again. But in just a matter of weeks, this routine grew stale and your fingers failed to satisfy you. You craved something real, something similar to the man who had become your obsession.
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On your day off, you made a choice to be daring and try something completely new. Not too far from where you live, there was a sex shop with its bold black exterior and eye-catching logo, "Don't ask, Won't tell." You never thought you'd ever have a reason to step foot inside until today. Trying to remain inconspicuous, you dressed casually in a gray hoodie and shorts, praying that no one from your complex would spot you as you wandered around the small store.
You quickly located the Dildo section in the far corner of the store, it was strategically placed away from prying eyes, giving you the freedom to browse without feeling self-conscious. The selection was overwhelming; there were dildos of all shapes, sizes, and colors that you didn't even know existed. A row of bright and vibrant toys caught your eye, ranging from hot pink to deep purple. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that some were smaller than others and angled differently - some leaning more to the right or left. Curious, you read the label below that simply read "beginners." Were these meant for beginners? You couldn't help but feel a little cocky; surely you could handle more than just beginner-level toys.
Your gaze drifted down to the shelf below, where a collection of dildos labeled as "intermediate" caught your eye. They were all around 5 inches long, a decent size, and you found yourself reaching out to touch a deep blue one that fit perfectly in your palm. But upon closer inspection, it wasn't the right one. It wasn't like his - GD's. You needed something that would remind you of him.
So you moved on to the last row, where the sign in bright red read "Expert". These dildos were flesh-colored and ranged from 6-8 inches in size. They looked almost identical to his. You picked up a realistic-looking one with a caucasian skin tone, measuring at 7 pushing 8 inches. It was thick and veiny, standing tall and proud unlike the ones in the first row. This was the one you wanted - it was as close as you could get to experiencing him.
You approach the cashier, trying your best to avoid making eye contact with her. But her questioning look, as if asking "are you sure about this?", burns your face with embarrassment. The transaction is completed hastily, almost as if the cashier wants you out of the store before it becomes too awkward. You grab the discreet black bag from her hands and make a hasty exit.
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You let out a deep sigh as you leave the shop, knowing all that was left to do was walk back to the apartment. It was a simple twenty-minute trek, maybe twenty-five if you got unlucky and had to wait for a red light at the stopwalk. You started on your way, clutching the shopping bag tightly, afraid that passerby's might try to peer inside. As you rounded the corner, a single raindrop landed on your head, followed by more until it was pouring without warning.
The unexpected downpour caught you off guard with little time to react. You were positive that the forecast called for clear skies, so you didn't bother bringing any protection. As droplets of water hit your skin, your eyes dart around in search of shelter. Finally, you spot the bus stop with its small roof offering some relief. With bare ankles splashing through puddles, you hurry towards it.
Taking shelter at the bus stop was a much better option than attempting to walk in this downpour. It was already raining hard enough to make a twenty-minute walk feel like eternity, and you would have been completely soaked if you had attempted it. Now, at least, you could relax a bit, knowing that you were somewhat protected and dry. All you had left to do was wait for the storm to pass. As you take out your phone from your pocket to check the weather app, a sudden shadow looms over you and a large figure squeezes into the small space next to you.
You quickly lifted your gaze from your phone and had to tilt your head back to meet the imposing figure who squeezed into the already cramped area. It was a man, who paid no attention to you whatsoever. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over his head and a black surgical mask covering his face except for his piercing brown eyes. Those same eyes locked onto yours as he noticed you staring at him.
Your body tensed up, and you averted your gaze, avoiding looking at him altogether. You couldn't help but think, "Could he be any more intimidating?"
The two of you stood next to each other in utter quietness for what felt like an eternity. He kept his gaze fixed ahead while you found yourself inexplicably fascinated by your own shoes. A sudden, loud splash caught your attention and you looked up just in time to see a group of children running by, gleefully splashing and playing in the puddles.
The combination of mud and water was heading straight towards you, ready to create a messy situation. But before it could hit you, he smoothly stepped in front and took the full force of the splash. He grunted as the liquid hit him, but he shook his head and glanced at the kids who seemed oblivious to the mess they had caused.
You were taken aback by his sudden actions, and you couldn't help but look back and forth between him and the mess on his previously spotless hoodie. The stain was large, surely leaving a big wet spot. "I- I mean, you didn't have to do that." You cursed yourself for saying the wrong thing as he raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that’s not what I meant."
He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. " 'S okay."
As soon as he spoke, you froze in place. His voice was unmistakably deep and one that you had heard before. You couldn't help but wonder if you were overreacting. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed him as he attempted to wipe away some moisture on his hoodie with a handkerchief. As far as you could tell, there were no visible tattoos on him.
Apart from that, you couldn't help but sympathize with him. He didn't have to do this at all. It was refreshing to see chivalry still existed, and the least you could do was assist him. "Do you live close by?" you inquire, causing him to pause and turn his gaze towards you.
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They say that everything in life is predetermined by fate, and it seems like fate had a plan for you when you asked that seemingly innocent question. Little did you know, your simple act set off a chain reaction of events. He lived far away, but you couldn't let him go on with that stain on his hoodie. So after the rain stopped, you brought him back to your apartment complex and showed him to the laundry room.
“Just give me a moment to grab my detergent. The stuff the landlord gives us is terrible.” You told him, motioning for him to take a seat on the nearby chair, which he did without saying a word. You quickly went up to your apartment and threw the bag on the couch before heading into the bathroom to retrieve the detergent. As you headed back downstairs, the scene in front of you left you speechless.
The man had removed his jacket and tossed it into the laundry, his back tense and facing away from you. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt that revealed his defined forearms. You couldn't help but recognize the tattoos decorating his skin. Could it really be him?
You had to act casual, not let your excitement show. You didn't want to seem like some creep and scare him off like a desperate fool. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you approach him with a gentle smile and present the bottle of detergent. "This will make your hoody spotless and leave it smelling amazing."
He turns his masked face towards you, revealing dirty blonde hair and a weathered complexion. It's not the kind of wear and tear that comes with age, but something else. "You have a staring habit," he says bluntly, catching you off guard. You didn't even realize you were staring at him.
You feel like you're about to jump out of your skin, but you manage to compose yourself. "Sorry," you apologize quietly as you approach the washing machine. You pour in a generous amount of detergent for his jacket and close the lid with a firm click. "The washers here aren't great, so if you want, you can come up to my apartment until it's finished." Normally, you wouldn't invite a total stranger into your home, hell you wouldn't have even let him see which complex you lived in, but your curiosity gets the best of you.
He stands there with his arms crossed, scanning you from head to toe. His intense gaze makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you. "I'll only be here until it's finished," he says in a smooth yet cautious tone. After all, you are a stranger. He understands that and so do you.
With a nod, you lead him up to your apartment, locking it behind you once you step in last. He seems to pause, taking it all in, glancing around at every little thing but not touching.
After a brief nod of your head, you guide him up to your apartment and lock the door behind you as soon as you both enter. He takes a moment to survey the space, his eyes scanning every detail but not daring to touch anything. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter while he settles onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. His gaze falls upon the black bag resting nearby, and although he doesn't reach for it, he does lean in closer to see what's inside.
You step out, and he's back to his usual self, sitting motionless as if nothing had happened. You realize you completely forgot about the bag in your hand; it was an easy oversight. Smiling at him, you take a seat in the armchair across from him, but he catches you off guard. "You seem like the last person who would shop at that kind of store."
As he speaks, you feel a pang of confusion and want to confront him about his words. However, your attention is diverted by the black bag you left out in the open. Your face flushes with embarrassment and your jaw drops, but you're unable to utter any words or even come up with an excuse.
His smirk grew as he observed your flustered reaction. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave it away. "I was just joking, didn't think it would make you so shy."
You huff and lean back in the chair, feeling defensive. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze as you say, "I'm not shy. I just…"
"Just?" He teased, casually draping an arm over the couch.
Feeling self-conscious, you defended yourself with a shy tone and blushing cheeks. “It’s perfectly normal to want a change.” you explained.
All he does is hum, but his eyes are fixed on you. Those damn eyes that seem to see right through you. "A little big don't you think?" He nods towards the bag.
You widen your eyes in surprise and finally gather the courage to confront him directly. "That's quite a bold topic to bring up with someone you barely know," you say.
"Coming from the woman who allowed a stranger into her home without even knowing my name, that's rich, love."
Touché.
“So whats your name then?”
“Simon.”
“Mines is y/n”
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The two of you began to talk or rather you talked up a storm. As you spoke, he sat there and actually listened. Despite being the one to do most of the talking, he let you vent about work for almost ten solid minutes without interrupting. All he did was nod along, showing that he was truly paying attention.
You asked about his job and he wasn't very forthcoming, only mentioning that he traveled frequently. You ventured to ask his age and discovered he was twenty-eight years old. He didn't seem eager to talk about himself, so you changed the subject out of respect for his privacy.
He wasn't exactly the most exciting person, but he had his moments. Every so often, he'd tell a cheesy dad joke that made you giggle. You loved seeing the sparkle in his eyes whenever he cracked a joke. The two of you were having such a good time together that before you knew it, an hour had passed and you could hear the familiar beep of the washing machine downstairs. "Hold on, I'll grab your hoodie," you say as you get up and step out of the apartment for a moment.
He sat alone, quietly anticipating your return. By chance, the two of you had crossed paths, a coincidence he was grateful for because… he knew who you were. He noticed you struggling to make connections in your mind while he had already recognized you.
He had come across your profile on his streaming platform. You were a new fan, which he could tell based on your activity. How? Your profile picture was of yourself, and you never participated in the chat or donated. This piqued his curiosity about you, but he didn't bother reaching out at the time. However, when he saw you waiting at the bus stop in the same city as him, he took a chance and decided to approach you.
Now he was currently sitting in your apartment while you were busy downstairs. His gaze kept returning to the toy inside the bag, a flimsy and unnecessary item in his opinion. Why would someone like you need a toy? Surely you had a boyfriend, right? He heard your footsteps approaching and quickly turned to watch as you entered the room. "Why the toy?" he asked curiously.
You approached him and handed him his jacket, just cleaned and now carrying a hint of lavender. He brought up the dildo again, but you were feeling more assured this time. "As I said before, I wanted to experiment with something different."
He snorted in disbelief at those words, reaching over and holding up the black bag. "Why would you need this when you have a boyfriend, right? You do have one, don't you?" Simon secretly wished that you didn't have a boyfriend. You were too beautiful to be with someone who couldn't satisfy you.
You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you quickly take the bag from his hand and set it on the ground. "No, I don't have a boyfriend and so what if I have a dildo, what's it to you?”
For the first time, Simon is at a loss for words. He's confused, and even he doesn't understand why he cares so much. What he says next surprises not just you, but himself as well. "I could do better."
How the hell are you supposed to react to that? What would be an appropriate response? Was it meant as a joke, maybe? "Yeah, right, and pigs can fly." You try to rebut with a half-hearted tone, still uncertain of how to handle the situation.
As he sits up, his posture becomes rigid and his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes, a deep brown like icy orbs, possess an inexplicable warmth when focused on you. He takes a moment to assess you, his gaze lingering on your hips before meeting your eyes once more. You can feel the weight of his stare, as if he is trying to read your every thought and emotion. His expression remains stoic but there is an intensity in his eyes that cannot be ignored.
The realization washes over you like a wave, leaving behind a tingling sensation that starts in your toes and travels up your spine. He's serious…actually serious. Your heart races as his intense gaze bores into yours, causing a familiar heat to pool in the pit of your stomach and spread through your body. Your intuition spikes, confirming what your body already knows - there's only one man who can make you feel this way. It's ironic, really, that getting turned on was the only indication that he is the mysterious streamer you've been pining after for so long.
A bead of sweat forms on your forehead as you struggle to maintain a composed exterior, but inside you can't deny the desire that surges through you. Simon practically offered himself on a silver platter, you couldn't let this opportunity slip by. You could feel the tension in the air as he waited for your response. "Prove it then," the words escaped your lips in a rush, betraying your eagerness. But it was too late to take them back now. The anticipation and lust swirling between the two of you was palpable, like electricity in the air. Your pulse quickened as you prepared for what was to come next.
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After hearing your confirmation, Simon's eyes darken, their once warm hue turning into a deep and intense shade. He slowly rises from his seat on the couch, his tall frame easily towering over you. Without saying a word, his large hand comes to rest on your hip, gently brushing his thumb in tender circles. His touch brings a sense of warmth that radiates off of him, causing you to tremble slightly. You can feel how gentle he is with you, knowing exactly how to handle you with care and tenderness.
With a firm grip on your waist, he gently guides you onto his lap. His strong thighs support your weight effortlessly, as if you were weightless in his arms. Simon tenderly presses his lips against your neck, his surgical mask now discarded, leaving his warm breath and soft kisses to trail down your neck and over your shoulder. The feeling sends shivers down your spine and causes you to squirm involuntarily, releasing a shaky gasp from your lips.
Desperate to catch a glimpse of his true identity, you strain your neck to see his face, but he squeezes your waist possessively. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he murmured, "You'll get to see if you behave, love." A soft kiss was pressed to the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, making you whine with need. Despite your curiosity, you couldn't resist the calming effect of his embrace. The need to know his true appearance still lingers, but you trust in his promise and enjoy the moment with him.
His rough hands glide up and down the curves of your body, pressing firmly against your back as he pulls you closer. You can feel his chest rising and falling against you, and you can't ignore the bulge in his pants pressed against your plush ass. Despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you can sense every inch of him. He is just as large and intimidating as you had seen from watching him on screen. Perhaps even too big for you to handle. Simon's hand ventures underneath your hoodie and slips beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing slow circles on your stomach. Though they are rough and coarse, they mold you like soft dough in a baker's hands. You feel like a piece of bread ready to be shaped according to his will.
With a deep sigh of relief, you let your eyes flutter closed, the tension slowly draining from your body. Soft moans escape your lips as his hands work their magic, easing away the stress and bringing a sense of pleasure to every inch of you. Your eyes snap open as one hand ventures underneath the band of your panties and gently strokes between your legs. You can feel the corner of his lips curl up in a confident smirk against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Already so wet," he whispers huskily, making you crave more of his touch.
Simon's fingers glide over your clit, causing it to quiver under his touch. He's exploring, trying to figure out what turns you on. When your body responds with a subtle yearning for more, he applies pressure with his index and middle finger, gently swirling them around your sensitive spot. You inhale sharply, almost unconsciously closing your legs at the sensation of a new hand wandering all over your body.
As Simon's fingers glide over your body, you feel a rush of electricity shoot through you. His touch is tentative at first, exploring the curves and crevices of your skin as if he is mapping out every inch. When he finally reaches your clit, it feels like a firework has been lit inside of you. Heat spreads from the contact point to every nerve ending in your body. You can't help but huff as he presses down with his index and middle finger, creating a slow, tantalizing swirl against your sensitive nub. Your breaths come in quick pants as your body responds to the unfamiliar sensation, arching towards his touch and almost closing up in surprise.
Gently, Simon nudges your thighs apart with his own, a low growl escaping him as he nibbles on your ear, his breath is hot against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice gruff and full of desire. “Let me take care of you.” His touch is featherlight, teasing and electrifying, making it hard for you to focus on anything else. As one hand wanders up and down your body, the other finds its way to your perky breast, kneading and caressing it gently. Simon is determined to leave no part of you untouched, his actions attacking all of your physical senses at once.
A sharp pinch on your hardened nipple elicits a tiny squeal from you, and he responds by gently kissing your cheek. His lips trail up and down your jawline, providing comfort for your cry. Your slick has already coated his fingers, and it now seeps through not only your shorts but also your panties. He can feel the wet spot on his knee, evidence of your arousal. "Your pretty cunt doesn't get enough attention," he remarks, observing the way you're leaking all over him with a smirk on his face.
He uttered that word, "pretty," in such a raw way that it only made you more aroused. He noticed how wet you were and withdrew his fingers, teasingly waving them in front of your face as you try to catch your breath. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, running his fingers against your lips. You obey and open your mouth, tasting the salty slickness on your tongue.
The vulgarity of his words shot dopamine straight to that lust-filled brain of yours, and you couldn't deny the fluttering arousal that followed. He noticed this and pulled his fingers back from between your legs, holding them up to your face. Your breath came in short gasps as he taunted you with your own slick moisture glistening on his fingertips. "What a mess you made," he said, rubbing his fingers against your lips, encouraging you to open them. You complied eagerly, tasting the tangy saltiness of yourself on your tongue. It only made you want him more.
You suck on his finger, savoring the taste of yourself as your tongue laps at it with eagerness. The taste of yourself lingers on his skin, sweet and intoxicating. Simon's eyes are glued to you, mesmerized by your actions. His pants feel unbearably tight, but he knows he must take things slow and loosen you up before he can have you completely.
“Want me to keep going?” Simon asked in a commanding tone, and when you nodded, he shook his head. "I need words from you, Doll. Tell me what you want."
Your lips feel swollen as you bite down on them, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. But you can't forget your current position and the events that led to it. "I want more Simon, please."
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Simon grunts and nods, taking his finger out of your mouth and holding onto your hips with both hands. He guides you to lean against his strong chest, positioning you so you can see his face. His rugged appearance, with a fresh stubble brushing against your soft skin, adds to his appeal. A cut on his nose gives him a rougher look, but it only makes him more attractive. He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and spreads it over your clenched opening. Taking advantage of your distraction, Simon slowly inserts his index finger into your tight hole.
He can't help but groan at the incredible tightness he encounters with just one finger. Your walls squeeze and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. It's a good thing he's taking the time to loosen you up, because if his cock were to experience this level of tightness, he'd have you pinned down on the couch in no time, causing your knees to shake uncontrollably.
You flinch at the sudden intrusion, his large index finger feeling almost intrusive as it slowly enters you. It fills you more than your own fingers ever could. Simon tenderly kisses the side of your lips, reassuring you. "It's okay, I've got you…I've got you." He pauses to make sure you're comfortable before continuing. His fingers continue to explore with care, his thumb gently pressing against your sensitive clit to mask any pain with pleasure. A deep moan escapes him as he feels your walls pulsating around him, making his cock throb in anticipation within his boxers. It begs for attention.
You looked up at him, your eyes blinking rapidly as you flinched when he slowly inserted another finger into your tight and slippery opening. It was a bit too much to handle, but you forced yourself to bear it with clenched teeth and an open mouth. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin had goosebumps all over from the stimulation. The pain gradually turned into a hint of pleasure, causing your nipples to harden in response. His two fingers moved in and out at a slow pace, your whimpers of discomfort slowly transformed into moans of pleasure. Simon quickly found a rhythm, picking up speed until there were wet slurping sounds coming from the movement of his fingers inside you.
The intensity of the moment was immeasurable. The sight of you writhing on his lap, your body shuddering and your walls gripping around his fingers, drove him to grunt loudly in response. He could feel his own cock throbbing and pulsing with desperate need as he watched you shatter before him. With deliberate care, he curved his finger and found a sweet spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Taking note of this, Simon altered his rhythm and started moving faster, his fingers thrusting in and out with an almost frantic pace.
But he didn't forget about that special spot, and each time he hit it, it sent waves of ecstasy through your body, leaving you breathless and craving more. You were starved for touch, and Simon could tell by how eagerly you pushed against his hand, your hips seeking out his fingers no matter how deep they delved inside you. He was playing you like a skilled musician, knowing exactly which strings to pluck to elicit the most intense reactions from your body. And despite only having just met him, Simon seemed to have a better understanding of your own body than yourself.
He knows that adding a third finger now would be too much for you to handle. Instead, he expertly curls both fingers inside of you and uses his other hand to pinch and tweak your swollen clit. The pleasure is overwhelming and has you seeing stars and cumming far too soon. Your whole body arches off of him, your legs trembling like leaves in the wind as your orgasm crashes over you uncontrollably. You weren't given any build up or time to prepare, it came on full force and ready. When you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers out of your quivering core, holding you close with one arm while the other shifts you slightly for comfort. His pants are now slick with your release, evidence of your intense climax.
Mindful of your orgasm, he gently lifts you up and places you onto the plush couch. You sit there for a moment, heart racing and breath catching in your chest. Your mind is dizzy with pleasure, trying to process everything that has transpired. Suddenly, a metallic clank and a loud zip interrupt your thoughts, causing you to open one eye and peer up at Simon.
He stands directly in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world with his strong body. As your eyes trail downward, you come face to face with the very same girthy cock that had captivated you on screen. Up close, it was even more daunting and intimidating than before. Thick veins pulsed along its length, the tip glistening with precum from being pressed against his boxer briefs. His heavy balls hung low and full, adding to the overwhelming image before you.
"You didn't think this was over, did you?"
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♡! This one is really long but I don't like how I did the sex scene that much. o(TヘTo). Expect more of Simon talking in the next!!
˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @theirkenfiles @@crazy-phan-girl13 @forgotten-lego-piece
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