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kkami-writes · 8 months

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that hufflepuff boy

pairing. hufflepuff!felix x slytherin!fem!reader ft! hufflepuff!bangchan, slytherin!seungmin, ravenclaw!hyunjin synopsis. The moment you stepped into the halls of Hogwarts your classmates had deemed you as the princess of slytherin, a title you learned to hate. If only they knew that the cold, seemingly proper girl was absolutely head over heels for Hufflepuff's resident sunshine boy, Lee Felix. tags/cw. hogwarts!au, fluff, maybe some angst if you squint, lots and lots of mutual pining, acquaintances to lovers, side seungjin, smut, slight corruption, public sex (library), virgin!felix, oral (m + f receiving), vaginal fingering, pet names (princess, love), unprotected sex (don't do it), swallowing of cum

disclaimer!!! both felix and reader are 18+, consenting adults at the time of smut. word count. 5k (5,155)

The first time you had met Felix is during third year, on a random spring morning as the two of you were paired up during potions. It had been a rough first three years for you as the nickname of Slytherin’s princess had been pushed upon you solely based on your parents' old-fashioned views. Even in this more progressive time, there were still a fair amount of pure-blood purists despite it being an unpopular stance after the second wizarding war.

Still, people had assumed you had thought the same as your parents and being sorted into slytherin hadn’t helped your case. Reluctantly, you instead fell into your role as the prim and proper princess they thought you were - no one had ever bothered to even ask if you could think for yourself or had your own opinions. Although you did have a few actual friends, the isolation you had felt from your peers had made you slightly bitter.

So when you’re paired up with a random hufflepuff who gives you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, one that could easily rival the sun - you’re a little starstruck. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you like this and it easily makes your cheeks darken. He treats you like a normal person, as if you were already friends and it’s…refreshing to say the least. The last person you got partnered up with had sat as far away from you as they could and didn’t talk unless absolutely necessary.

You’re surprised that you work well with the boy, him making small conversation and keeping you engaged in the potion work. Felix is nice, almost too nice, and you’re sure he’s like this with everyone but you still feel a surge of happiness when he laughs at one of your small jabs. You can’t help but think the sound is just as sweet as him.

As class ends, you’re packing up your books and Felix waves goodbye to you with that pretty smile on display.

“Bye! I hope we can talk again!” Then he’s gone and you’re left sitting there a little dazed as you stare at his retreating figure, something stirring in your chest that you’re not 100% sure of, but you do know one thing.

And it’s that Felix is made up of sugar, everything nice and sun kissed freckles, and you’re pretty sure you’re fucked.

By fifth year you had fully recognized that the flowers blooming your chest was pure adoration for the hufflepuff. You had been sitting in the library with Seungmin, who was busy with his nose in a book and blatantly ignoring your obvious heart eyes towards a certain boy who sat not too far away at his own table; him and his quidditch captain Chan were probably going over some strategies for the upcoming game this weekend. Hyunjin was on your left, the ravenclaw busy with another one of his drawings he often did.

You let out a small dreamy sigh, one that was barely audible but it was enough to have your fellow slytherin rolling his eyes and closing his book. “Are you for real? You look so pathetic…how long have you been pining over that hufflepuff for?” He groans, throwing his head back.

“Aw, I think it’s kinda cute,” Hyunjin chimes in, not looking up from his drawing.

“That’s because you’re a hopeless romantic,”

“Ok mister I read romance novels,” At this Seungmin’s ears tinge red and you think he might throw his book at the male. They thought you were annoying with your crush? They should look at themselves. With Seungmin thinking he was slick with his hidden gazes towards the ravenclaw or the many sketches Hyunjin had of the slytherin.

“Can you two shut up? I’m busy pining over here,” They both roll their eyes at you now.

“Honestly? I’m surprised he’s your type. I thought someone like Minho hyung was your type,”

“It’s because Felix is the only one willing to give yn any time of the day,” You swat at Hyunjin for that and he simply clutches his arm dramatically, whining your name.

As you play fight with your friends (was it really playing though? The three of you were probably gonna get kicked out of the library soon), it goes unnoticed by you that someone else had been staring a little too long over at your table, his eyes sparkling as he watched you interact with the two who were usually never seen without you. He’s pulled from his thoughts as his own best friend and quidditch captain Chan nudged him from his tiny daydream.

“You good mate? You've been staring at her for a while. We are supposed to be going over strategies,” He teases lightly as he watches Felix’s ears turn a little red.

“Um, right. Sorry! I’ll focus, I promise,” Chan laughs, his signature dimples showing as he ruffles up the blonde’s hair.

“It’s fine, I should probably go study for my n.e.w.t.s anyway and we have practice tomorrow so we can go over more stuff,” Felix nods, agreeing with him before his gaze is once again glancing over towards you and it looks like you’re about to strangle Seungmin, while Hyunjin holds you back by your robes with a bored look on his face. He can’t help but laugh at your guy’s ministrations - he loved that you had slowly come out of your shell since third year and had found some good friends.

Well, at least he hoped they were just friends. He wouldn’t go as far to say the two of you were friends either, just acquaintances, mostly talking to each other in the halls when you passed by or occasionally partnering up during class. But Felix still did not have the guts to ask you out on a date, the fear of rejection controlling him. Chan is nudging him again and he’s pulled out of yet another daydream.

“Damn, you’ve got it bad huh? You’ve barely even talked to her for the last two years,” “Hey, that’s not true!! I say hi to her everytime I see her in the hall!”

“Uh huh. Why are you so interested in her anyway? Aren’t her parents blood-purists? I don’t think they’d approve of a muggleborn, no offense. And she is called the slytherin princess for a reason,”

“Yeah but she’s not like that,” Felix is quick to defend you, not that he really thought Chan believed in those kinds of rumors - he was just curious about his crush.

“How do you know?” “Just- okay in third year, I remember everyone telling me to beware of the ‘slytherin princess’” he makes quotations with his fingers. “That she was cold and mean and definitely would not be nice to a muggleborn like me. But then we got partnered together during potions and she was really nice? And funny? I just thought you know, that she couldn’t be that bad. Plus! Seungmin and Hyunjin are both half-bloods, and they’re like her best friends. When we talk, just the two of us, she’s kinda shy to be honest. It’s cute and all but, when I see her like that,” Felix points to you, who is laughing hard at a joke Seungmin had said, both you and Hyunjin holding onto each other as you wheeze. The librarian shushes you loudly and gives the three of you yet another warning, only one away from getting kicked out. “When she’s alone with her friends she blossoms into this really bubbly and bright personality and I just - I want to be able to bring out that side of her when she’s with me. I wanna be able to get to know her more…you know…maybe ask her on a date,” He flushes at that and Chan lets out a low whistle that gets his own little hush from the librarian.

“Yeah, you are down atrocious my man. I think it’s time to put on your big boy pants. You should ask her out, after the hufflepuff vs slytherin game. After we win you can ask if she wants to go celebrate,”

“Oh..that might be a good idea. She always comes to the games for Seungmin. But wait, what if we lose?”

(Felix will later find out that you had only ever attended the Hufflepuff vs Slytherin games just so you could watch him, something Seungmin always complained and pouted about. “I’M your best friend! You should be watching for me!! Not that stupid pretty Hufflepuff,” “So you admit he’s pretty?”

“I fucking hate you,” ) “Then you ask her if she’ll take you on a date so you can get over this horrific loss we have faced,”

“That…makes me sound like a loser,” Chan just shrugs.

“Listen, if it gets you a date who cares,”

“Ok, yeah. You’re right. First, we’re gonna stomp Slytherin into the ground. And then- I’m gonna ask her out,”

Felix did not in fact put on his big boy pants on. While they had in fact won the game, he had frozen when you hopped over to him, a pretty smile on your face as you congratulated him on the win. His mind blanked, head empty as he just stared at how pretty you looked and how he wished he could give you his Hufflepuff scarf for you to wear. He wanted you to cheer for him during his quidditch games. He thinks you’d look breathtaking in yellow.

But instead he said a quick ‘thanks!’ before running away, face completely red and leaving you behind with a small disappointed look on your face.

By seventh year, you were no closer to being over your infatuation with the pretty freckled Hufflepuff. Even though you had dated other people here and there, no one could compare to the way your heart reacted whenever you talked to Felix briefly in the halls.

Still, you had slightly given up hope that the boy would reciprocate your feelings. Afterall, he had shown no signs of being into you - despite what Seungmin and Hyunjin had told you. You were still scared of rejection, that he wouldn’t be interested in a Slytherin like yourself, much less one still dubbed the princess of snakes.

Yet Felix continued to treat you the same as always, greeting you in the hallways with that sweet smile of his and it never failed to put butterflies in your stomach.

So when you’re paired up for a project in potions again, you can’t help the excitement that builds in your chest. It’s a more extensive project, requiring you to brew a particularly complex potion, needing to do research in the restricted section as well as write an essay.

“Hey!” Felix greets you with that devastating smile and you pretend you’re not melting on the inside. His voice had gotten so deep and that blasted australian accent was constantly trying to make your knees buckle when you heard it. You can see Seungmin in your peripheral vision, pretending to gag over how pathetic you look face to face with your crush. Subtly you flip him off and you can hear his infectious laugh as he walks out of the classroom, probably off to find Hyunjin.

“Hi Felix,”

“So, when are you free to work on the project?” “Honestly whenever you’re free, I know practice must keep you busy captain,” At the title his cheeks flush involuntarily, scratching his cheek shyly. Oh what you wouldn’t give to kiss his beautiful freckled cheeks.

“Yeah well, Seungmin has been keeping us on our toes. He’s always been good at strategy and as captain he’s really proved himself. But besides practice I'm pretty free too. We have practice on Wednesdays and Fridays. So we could do the project this weekend? If you want of course, we could pick another day if you want,”

“Nope, this weekend sounds perfect,”

“Great, wanna meet at the library at one?”

You nod and he gives you a small smile before bidding you goodbye. And that’s how you end up with a study date with one Lee Felix. (Neither of you had said the word date but you could dream and live in your delusions for a while. At least before Seungmin pulls you back down from the clouds.)

Saturday comes much faster than you expect and you take almost half the morning preparing yourself - perhaps taking a little extra time on your makeup and hair. Of course you make sure not to go too overboard, just accentuating your features a little more, wanting to impress the way too pretty Hufflepuff.

Even though you show up to the library ten minutes early, you’re surprised to find Felix already there with a book open and taking notes. When he looks up to see you his expression brightens up significantly, waving you over quickly. He’s rendered you speechless with a simple look and you can feel those annoying butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Sorry did I keep you waiting? I thought I was early,” You say as you take a seat next to him, pulling out your own notes and potion textbook.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I uh- got here early to get us a spot next to the restricted section,” Your head nods in understanding as you bite back a laugh, the library practically empty due to it being a Saturday.

After some brief small talk, the two of you get into researching the potion, taking extensive notes on how to properly brew the concoction without causing your cauldron to explode. It was a tricky potion, requiring absolute perfection in order to work.

Somehow during your silent period of individual research, Felix had managed to scoot as close to you as possible, thighs pressed together and you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You can smell the hint of his floral cologne and the urge to bury your face into the crook of his neck is overwhelming.

The two of you stay like that for a while before you close your textbook, stretching out your arms and flexing your hands from writing too much.

“Shall we check out the restricted section? I think i’ve read all that I can in our textbook,”

“Yeah, same! This potion is gonna be a pain in the ass,”

“Tell me about it. I’m not exactly looking forward to actually brewing it,”

“Can’t be that bad, I’ll get to do it with you,” And there it is, those damn butterflies making another appearance. You flush before clearing your throat, moving towards the restricted section, having already gotten permission from your teacher and the librarian. Felix can’t help but find the blush on your cheeks beautiful.

The two of you moved to start to browse the new section, looking for specifics on the ingredients needed for the more intense potion that you would have to brew. Your eyes skim through the shelves, noting some of the more interesting books that you might have to take a closer look at later, specifically a fun book on jinxes that you could probably use against Seungmin who was always trying to create new spells to tease you with. And on the rare occasion the two of you would team up to bully Hyunjin instead, especially when he was bragging about acing a test he didn’t even bother studying for. It would have to wait for now as you spotted an old potioneering book that looked promising on the top shelf. Reaching for it, you cursed at how short you were - even standing on your tiptoes didn’t help as you extended your fingers as much as you could.

Suddenly you can feel a firm chest pressed to your back and a hand resting on your hip, another hand coming to grab the book you were trying to get. Your heart thumps against your ribcage at the close proximity of Felix, trying not to think about how his body feels as its pressed flush against your back or the grip on your hips as he steadies you. Slowly you turn around in his grasp, blinking up at him as he practically has you up against the bookcase, caging you in. Felix is also looking at you, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face and the potion book in his hand. It feels like you’ve been standing there forever, both of you just getting lost in each other's eyes and you wonder how many constellations you could draw against his freckles. The way you want to count just how many he has or if he had more in other places as well. Your eyes widen when the hand that was resting on your hip is suddenly moving up to cup your cheek and you wonder if he can see the way you flush under the dim lighting of the library.

“Can I kiss you?” The deep timbre of his voice never fails to send shivers down your spine or heat into your stomach. You nod even though you really wanna say ‘hell yes’, you manage to hold back and not embarrass yourself, especially now when he’s asked something you’ve wanted to do since third year.

His lips feel plush against your own, and you vaguely wonder if this was real. If Lee Felix was really here, kissing you sweet and softly like you were the most precious and delicate object in his hands. It’s a short simple kiss and you almost go to chase his lips when he pulls back, but you don’t have to worry as he doesn’t keep you waiting too long. He drops the book to be forgotten, as he brings his other hand to fully frame your face and kisses you square on the mouth. Your head tilts as he deepens the kiss, lips molding perfectly together.

His tongue is swiping along the seam of your lips, asking for permission which you happily grant, tiers parting for him so he can lick at your own wet muscle. You can’t help the blissful sigh that falls from your lips and Felix all but eagerly swallows the noise, his pink tongue exploring every inch of you that he can. He has you fully pressed against the bookshelf now, your bodies slotted together, as if two puzzle pieces had been connected and you can start to feel something hard being pressed against your hips.

You can barely even focus on that with how dizzy the kiss is making you feel (though it’s possible it’s the lack of air as you’ve basically forgotten how to breathe). Teasingly you nip at his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth and he all but lets out a deep groan that makes you wetter than you’d like to admit. Eventually you both part for air, the two of you practically panting, lips slick with each other. You’re licking at your swollen lips, still able to taste him on your tongue as a thought pops into your head. You move to place your hands on Felix’s hips, maneuvering him so you’re the one who has him pressed against the bookshelf. He tilts his head and looks at you inquisitively, and you can’t help but coo at how cute he looks, especially with slightly reddened cheeks and completely kiss bitten lips.

It’s only when you move down to your knees does he understand what you’re doing, him scrambling to try to pull you back up but you don’t budge.

“A-ah! W-wait. What are you do-” He falters as he watches you glance up at him through your lashes, sweet innocent eyes looking up at him. Just the sight of you like this, looking so pretty on your knees for him makes his dick twitch in his pants, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

You place your hands on his thighs, running them up until your fingers are playing with the zipper of his trousers and he watches as your tongue darts out to dampen your already slick lips. “Is this ok?” You question simply, watching as Felix’s resolve crumbles, nodding his head.

With permission you’re quick to undo his pants, only pulling them down to expose his already hard cock. His dick is somehow pretty, yet it doesn’t surprise you - everything about the boy was just so pretty. You lean in to press small teasing kisses to his length, keeping eye contact with the Hufflepuff. Felix doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, so entranced by you. As much as you’d love to tease him, to build him up until he was begging for you - the two of you weren’t exactly in a private space, so you’d have to do it another time (god you hoped there would be another time). You part your lips to take the head into your mouth and it has Felix gasping already, his head falling back against the bookcase and his hands finding purchase in your hair. You hollow your cheeks as you suck softly, his natural musky scent was mixing with the floral cologne he had put on and it was all so heady, making you slightly lightheaded.

He’s completely lost in the way your mouth feels against his hard length, warm and wet, and he��s scared to finish too fast like some virgin (even though that’s exactly what he was). Yet he can’t stop you, blunt nails grasping at your silky locks as you blow him, eliciting a moan from you that vibrates against his cock. His bottom lip is between his teeth in an attempt to stop any embarrassing noises from escaping.

Except when you’ve got his whole cock down your throat, choking on it slightly has a deep moan slipping from his lips. He’s looking down at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown and hazy with lust, the sight of you with your mouth absolutely stuffed with his cock has him twitching in your mouth. You can taste his salty precum in the back of your throat, desperate to see what his release will taste like.

“Ah…fuck. Princess you look so pretty like this…’m gonna cum,” He grunts softly and he can’t help the small buck of his hips into your mouth.

You definitely weren’t expecting the nickname, but you found yourself liking it MUCH more when it was coming from Felix. You open your mouth with your tongue lolling out when he tells you he’s close, blinking up at him and he gets the message. He releases your hair to bring his hand to his cock, stroking it once, twice - before he’s coming thick ropes into your mouth. You patiently wait for him to finish before you’re swallowing his load and you definitely don’t miss the way he groans just from watching you do that. A giggle falls from your lips as you come to stand up and he’s quick to kiss you again, moaning from tasting himself against your swollen tiers.

He’s tucking himself back into his pants but not bothering to redo his pants before he’s once again moving you so he can press you against the bookshelf. It’s your turn to tilt your head in questioning as he moves to kneel down, hands running up your upper thighs until they’re disappearing under your skirt. He loops his fingers into your panties as he looks up at you.

“Can I?” He asks and his eyes are still dark with arousal, completely gone at this point. You nod far too eagerly and he chuckles deeply at how excited you look, slowly dragging your (damp) underwear down, having you step out of them. He slips them into his back pocket with a smirk.

“You’re not getting these back,”

Your mouth is wide with his bold words, wondering where the shy Felix has gone. You don’t really have much time to think more about it before he’s diving under your skirt and attaching his mouth to your wet cunt, a hand coming up to your mouth to muffle the sound that leaves your lips involuntarily. He laps at your core, moaning against you at your taste and the vibrations only aid in your pleasure. You can’t even see him with your skirt completely covering him but you can’t find it in you to even care, the way his tongue is flicking at your clit has you whimpering. His hands are gripping at your hips tightly and you hope that he leaves a mark, a memory of this moment you shared with him.

He has you all but clenching around nothing as his lips suck on your sensitive bud and your back is arching off the bookshelf and your head is thrown back. Soft moans spill from your lips and the sounds go straight to his dick, feeling himself hardening again in his pants. It doesn’t matter though as his focus is on you and he so badly wants you to cum against his tongue. Felix easily slips two fingers into your heat with how slick you are and you let out a soft sigh at the sensation. He’s a little clumsy with them but you’re too far gone to really care, feeling your thighs start to shake and that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach.

“Lix- Lixie. I’m close,” You manage to mumble out, not knowing how much longer you are gonna last, especially with how his skillful tongue continues to work you to your high. With your words he’s once again latching onto your clit with his lips, sucking eagerly and his fingers pushing into you faster. He hums against your core and you’re gone, your rather loud moan muffled by your hand as you’re coming against his face. Felix doesn’t stop lapping at your pussy until you have to push him away, feeling sensitivity starting to build.

When he comes back up he has to hold you up, your legs shaking slightly in the aftermath of your orgasm. He’s quick to have his lips on yours again and you can taste yourself against his tongue. He can tell he’s going to quickly become absolutely addicted to kissing you, your lips so soft against his own. Felix is pressing against you and you can feel that he’s hard again, so you reluctantly pull away to call out to him.

“Felix,” You start, suddenly feeling shy even though you literally just had his dick in your mouth.

“Yes love?” It really feels like he’s trying to kill you with these nicknames but you push through, letting your hips rock against his and he’s biting at his lip hard to stop himself from moaning.

“I want you. So bad. . .need you inside me,”

He seems a little hesitant but he can’t deny the way his dick twitches just at the thought of being buried inside you. How warm and tight you’d feel against his length.

“Are- Are you sure?” You nod. You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.

“Yes. I-If it’s okay with you,” Still you stress this point, not wanting to pressure him but you’d be lying if you weren’t still absolutely soaked for the boy in front of you.

“How can I say no to you?” He hums, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before slowly turning you around to have you bent forward slightly. You grab onto the bookshelf to ground yourself, biting at your bottom lip as you feel him grinding his clothed cock against your core. You’re about to open your mouth to beg him to stop teasing you but then you feel his tip pressing against your entrance and all thoughts are flying out of your head. Felix is gripping you tightly by the waist and slowly, almost agonizingly slowly he pushes in. You can feel every single inch until he’s completely sheathed in your warmth and the groan he lets out fills your belly with straight heat.

“F-fuck. So good, you feel so good princess,” He groans, his breath heavy as he shakily pulls out just enough so he can easily slide back in, setting a slightly uneven pace but it feels so good that you don’t even care. All you can think about is Felix, the way his hands feel against your skin, how sweet he sounds as he murmurs praises against your ear, the way his cock fills you so nicely - your head is so blissfully empty besides the Hufflepuff and you love it. He angles himself upwards, finding your sweet spot so easily and you clench around him the moment he hits it.

His hips rock languidly into you as he flips your skirt up so he can see the way his cock disappears into your soaked cunt. Felix is so entranced at the way your arousal clings to his length, you’re so wet you’re practically dripping down your thighs and it makes it so much easier to thrust into you. He knows he’s not gonna last very long so he grabs you to pull you flush against his chest, holding you to him as a hand wraps to your front, two fingers rubbing at your clit.

“Lix! Oh- Oh…’m close,” You mumble out, gasping as he holds you against his body, your hips trying to meet his thrusts.

“Yeah? Gonna cum princess? Need you to cum all over my cock. Can you do that love?” He hums into your ear and his voice has you absolutely gone, Felix purposely making it just a little bit deeper. The way his cock is pressing against your gummy g-spot has you seeing stars.

It doesn’t take long until you’re shuddering and coming, your walls spasming around Felix which has him reaching his own orgasm - spilling into you with his warm seed. Both of you are panting hard with you holding onto the bookshelf as if it was your last lifeline, practically the only thing keeping you up with how shaky your knees are.

When he pulls out you whine a little, feeling his cum leaking down your thighs. He watches for a second, seeing his own release dripping from your pussy has a surge of pride filling his chest. After a second he pulls out his wand, muttering a quick spell that cleans you up, thankful that charms had been his best class. You need a bit longer to collect yourself, your head slightly fuzzy from two orgasms.

Felix is busy looking you over, making sure your uniform is neat and smoothing your hair down. It’s all sweet and lowkey domestic, making your heart swell at the Hufflepuff in front of you. He smiles that smile you love and it baffles you how this boy could go from fucking you in the restricted section of the library to this innocent looking sunshine.

He’s coming to cup your face again, leaving a few kisses against your cheeks before kissing your lips.

“So like…I know this is backwards but uh- do you like? Maybe wanna go on a date sometime? And be my girlfriend?”

#stray kids #felix x reader #yongbok x reader #lee felix x reader #felix fluff #felix fic #felix imagines #felix reactions #felix scenarios #felix smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic

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trblsvt · 1 year

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for the books | jeon wonwoo

summary | wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with. genre | fluff, teacher!au warnings | none, i think let me know! word count | 2.2k words pairing | jeon wonwoo x fem!reader min | lowercase intended i literally put off my other works to write this! delulu era to the max! i advocate for women in stem!!! also! this is like an american high school-level setting. lily is so out of pocket LOL (believe it or not there is a girl just like her at my school). this was 100% self-indulgent

"mr. jeon!" his student lily called. "so you're telling me that after all that, she still hasn't kissed him?" he looked up from his desk and looked over to his obviously distraught student. "lily! i didn't even finish it yet!" her friend mina yelled at her.

"i'm sorry! it's just so crazy how they didn't even kiss! even after they made up and he said all of that to her!" lily huffed.

"what did he say to her? i haven't gotten there yet either," daniel piped in.

"just read it! i'm sorry i brought it up in the first place," lily sighed and pulled out the worksheets she was supposed to complete after reading the book. he shook his head and went back to inputting grades into his computer. it was silly to think lily was just going to do her work. "mr. jeon, do you have a girlfriend?" she asked putting her pencil down. he paused momentarily, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "dude, that's so not cool for you to ask mr. jeon," daniel complained.

"what? we're reading this romantic novel, is it not fair to ask our english teacher if he's in a relationship?" lily replied, crossing her arms. "i mean we have to be reading this book for some reason."

"maybe it's just a part of the curriculum," mina rolled her eyes.

"do you seriously think mr. jeon is sending us subminimal signals about his love life through the books we're reading?" daniel asked.

"i don't know! maybe!" lily said. the three of them continued to argue back and forth at their table. wonwoo should probably stop this before the other students get irritated with the trio. "guys, i can assure you, i am not sending any messages about my love life. please get back to your work," wonwoo cleared his throat. he heard a disappointed noise, but pencils went back to scratching and pages started flipping again. soon it was the end of the class period and everyone was packing up. it was just lily. "next time, please refrain from asking personal questions in class," he asked.

"yes, of course. i'm sorry mr. jeon," lily bowed her head.

"it's alright. it can just be a bit distracting for your classmates. let's try to be more considerate."

"will do," she said, turning on her heel.

"oh and lily, just between me and you," wonwoo paused. "i don't have a girlfriend."

"he said he wasn't in a relationship!" lily cheered. daniel stared at her baffled, "didn't he say not to tell anyone?"

"yeah, but i mean, he must know that i'm going to tell you guys. you guys don't seem as nearly as excited about this as i do."

"why would we be? he's single, it's not like you have a chance with him or something," mina commented.

"no! ew! i would never try to go after a teacher, are you crazy? i'm saying that this is a perfect opportunity for us to get mr. jeon a date!" lily practically squealed.

"a date? with who?"

"with miss ___, of course! who else? haven't you guys ever noticed that they spend almost every lunch period with each other? they're so cute together!"

"maybe they're just planning classes or something," daniel shrugged.

"um, hello? mr. jeon teachers english literature and miss ___ teaches physics b. what would they planning together?"

"touché."

"i think it's time to enact a master plan."

"so everyone understands this equation, right?" you said, turning back to face the class. "tell me now, so i can help. this equation is the very foundation to magnetism, if you don't get it now i can't promise you'll do well in this unit."

no one put their hand up. you smiled, "oh well, i guess we just have a bunch of physic masters in this class. but seriously, let me know if you need help. you can start working on your homework packet now, this way if you have questions you can ask them now. i don't need your frantic emails at midnight."

you returned to your desk and flipped through some lesson plans. you didn't get to finish eating lunch today, so you took out your lunch bag. a small slip of paper fell out of it and onto the ground. you smiled to yourself and reached down to pick it up. "miss ___!" your student lily said, she was standing at the foot of your desk.

"yes, lily?" you answered.

"i have a question about something."

"have at it."

"it isn't physics related though." you looked up, slipping the slip into your pocket. "then, what's it about? do you need to go to the nurse?" you frowned.

"no it's nothing like that, but i was told by another teacher not to ask questions like this in front of the whole class. he said it was inconsiderate," she shrugged.

"oh, um, well i guess you can go ahead."

"are you friends with mr. jeon?"

you froze. mr. jeon? as in english literature teacher mr. jeon? mr. jeon you eat lunch with him every day mr. jeon? maybe they started picking up on something. "well, yeah, i guess you could say that," you coughed. "why are you asking this all a sudden?"

"well, i came by mr. jeon's class before lunch to ask him about an assignment and i saw you there. i didn't want to interrupt, but i didn't know you guys were friends," she shrugged, averting her eyes.

"oh well, yes. mr. jeon started at his position around the same time i did a few years ago. so we got close because of that."

"that's so- i mean, i'm sorry to pry. i was just curious. i mean usually i don't see english teachers and physics teachers talk that much. thanks!"

the whole exchange left you a little baffled.

lily seemed determined to get you and wonwoo together. she began to pry more often and she was getting bolder one question at a time. she even asked if you were in a relationship and if you got you cute gifts for birthdays and holidays from your boyfriend. sometimes she got very bold and mentioned mr. jeon by name. "miss ___, don't you think mr. jeon is cute? you two would be so cute together." you had replied, "i don't think this is time or the place to talk about this, lily. please do your practice problems." you rolled your eyes, "i don't feel like i'm at liberty to answer that."

you couldn't bring yourself to actually discipline her or her friends (who had seemingly joined in on the deep dive about your love life). they were curious teenagers looking for gossip. hell, you were like that too. you felt it would be unfair to punish them for that, as long as it didn't get too inappropriate, you didn't mind. it was a bit endearing too.

you just had to push the thought out of your mind. it was time to go to lunch anyway. it was the perfect time to clear your head.

"has lily been asking you some personal questions lately?" wonwoo asked, leaning back in his chair. god, he looked so handsome today. his glasses, pressed shirt, and ironed pants. "yes, has she been causing a raucous here too?" you asked, taking a seat at one of the desks.

"well, she asked me if i think you're beautiful," he chuckled.

you paused. you would be lying if you said you didn't feel anything for the man sitting in front of you. he was smart and kind.

"of course, i told her you are a lovely human being inside and out, and to get back to doing her project."

"funny, she was telling me that she and her friends thought we'd make a cute couple." he laughed at that, and it made your chest flutter. you loved his laugh. "cute couple, that's so cute," he gasped.

"yeah i know right. who knew our students would start trying to set us up," you joked. he nodded in agreement getting up after his microwave went off from the other side of the room. "it would be so funny if they actually succeeded, but it does seem a bit pointless at this point, right?" he noted.

"yeah, totally pointless," you agreed.

you and wonwoo, being set up, by your students of all people. it sure would be for the books if it happened like that.

what an absurd idea.

the rest of the week went as usual, uneventful, but you did get to see wonwoo on the way out of the building and into the parking lot. he held his leather bag in his right hand. "on the way out today?" he asked. "don't you usually do tutoring sessions after school on fridays?"

"we just started a unit, and no one showed up after the fifteen-minute window. i'm out of here," you laughed. he smiled. you loved it when he smiled. "want to walk out together then?" he offered and pushed the door open for you. something about him was so calming and comforting. you smiled and averted your gaze to the floor. even after all these years, he made you a little nervous. you did miss the way he grinned when he caught your shy smile. he loved the way you smiled too. he couldn't wait to see it again, he needed to see it again as soon as possible. he was too lost in thought about the way you smile and the way your voice sounds, that he fell far behind you. "___, wait up," he called as you made your way through the faculty parking lot. he jogged to catch up to you and reached out to grab your hand.

"i swear i saw him kiss her out in the parking lot," daniel insisted. "they were holding hands too!" at this point, lily was totally unmotivated to get her two favorite teachers together. not after miss ___ shut her down on numerous occasions and mr. jeon was just as friendly but unbothered as ever giving his most PG answers. "whatever, daniel," lily huffed. "they would be so perfect together."

"he's literally telling you that they're together, he saw them kissing!" mina exclaimed. lily rolled her eyes. they were all hallucinating just to make themselves feel better that it was wishful thinking. "true love isn't real!" she cried.

"it's time to wake up, sweetheart," he mumbled. "you said you had lots of work to do today."

"yeah, well it's my day off too. i'll get to work later," his fiancé groaned.

"oh come on, i know you're desperate to do all that paperwork," he teased. he tugged on the warm body text to him to pull it closer to him. he loved waking up with his wonderful, beautiful, smart fiancé next to him.

he loved waking up next to you.

he knew the kids were asking about him and his love life. kids would be kids of course. "lily won't stop asking about my love life. it's funny since we both teach her," he said.

"i guess, she's never noticed the necklace with the ring hanging around my neck," you chuckled, nuzzling your face into wonwoo's neck. his arms easily wrapped around your body. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "you know, lily asked me if i had a girlfriend the other week," wonwoo murmured.

"she asked me if i had a boyfriend too," you hummed. "i just told her that it wasn't appropriate to ask that in class."

"i said something similar, but i did tell her i didn't have a girlfriend."

you paused. why would he say that? he was very obviously in a relationship, well obvious to the two of you. he even gave you a ring and a nice dinner to cement your relationship. "i obviously couldn't tell that i didn't have a girlfriend because i have a wonderful, smart fiancé," he laughed. you breathed an internal sigh of relief, but you still hit him in the chest. "that's so stupid," you groaned. "you're catching everyone on a technicality." he thought he was so clever and funny, ever the wordsmith.

"it's so hard not telling the students," wonwoo whispered, and you nodded your head in agreement. he didn't know why the two of you didn't tell the students yet, but the relationship started a bit secretively, almost right after the both of you were onboarded. he guessed the two of you never got out of the whole secret relationship. it was a bit exhilarating keeping the secret between you and him, and the admin. he felt like a teenager again. "maybe we should ease them into it, but let's not let them think it was all them," you said.

"maybe it's time for you to start wearing the ring on your finger then," he commented pulling away to get a better look at you. "i can't wait for you to become mrs. jeon," he smiled.

"yuck, so corny," you rolled your eyes with a smile. "you need to stop with these cheesy sayings early in the morning." nevertheless, you leaned forward and kissed him. he kissed back easily, "come on, i know you like the little notes i leave in your lunch."

"i do, now be quiet and just kiss me."

"gladly."

he did have the whole weekend until he had to go back to school. at least you made the day a little better.

min | im just in a silly goofy mood LOL. my poor attempt at humor and portraying what high schoolers are like. wonwoo being an english teacher just makes sense!!! reblogs and comments are always appreciated! not proofread at the moment (it's 1 in the morning)

tagging: @a-wandering-stay

#seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen reactions

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uglypastels · 11 days

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Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works.

Author's Previous Works | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases.

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally.

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room.

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother.

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas.

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject.

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte.

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises.

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention.

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly.

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away.

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received.

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework.

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done.

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you.

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming.

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense.

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg.

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’ ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip.

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited.

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind.

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair.

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever.

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head.

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day.

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head.

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap.

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea.

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed.

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick.

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up.

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye.

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks.

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself.

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there.

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger.

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that.

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do.

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences.

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now?

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores.

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content.

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine.

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed.

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by.

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter.

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better.

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice.

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did.

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet.

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions.

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind.

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for.

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man.

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of.

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh.

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation.

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance.

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family.

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly.

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone.

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met.

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn.

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so.

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely.

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for.

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves.

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here.

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family.

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit.

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek.

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping.

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think.

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do.

You screamed bloody murder.

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’ you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you.

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply.

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired.

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire.

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled.

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname.

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape.

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities.

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff.

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it.

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment.

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture.

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste.

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide.

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot.

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner.

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms.

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet.

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie.

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you.

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you.

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you.

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied.

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you.

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire.

‘Yes, mother.’

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words.

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss.

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time.

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.”

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted.

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours.

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio.

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone.

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio.

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens.

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave.

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 months

Text

Three Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: being in an abusive relationship, domestic violence, covering up bruises (nothing is ever explicit, just talked about), minor fluff at the end

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been assigned to you as a way to overcome his feelings and separate himself from the Winter Solider. You're his saving grace and maybe, he can be yours.

Squares Filled: "need a medic?" (2021) @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

The mirror above the steering wheel is so tiny but it’ll have to do since you don’t have your big mirror in your purse this time. You make sure your makeup is good enough to last the whole day, and more importantly, to keep what’s underneath hidden from everyone else. You don’t know what you’d do if people found out about your home life.

When you deem yourself okay, you grab your things and head straight to work. Your assistant, Carly, greets you with a friendly smile and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, boss!”

“Morning. Who do we have on the books today?”

“The only one is Bucky Barnes.”

“Great. Send him in as soon as he gets here.”

“Sure.”

You walk into your office and make sure everything you need for today’s session is in front of you. Bucky Barnes has only been seeing you for a couple of months so it’s still so new to either of you. You're a well-respected psychologist who had many clients, but you never thought you’d be seeing the former Winter Soldier.

You’ve heard the stories. You know what he’s done but he’s trying to atone for his mistakes. One of the important ways he’s going to do that is if you give him the chance to. He’s been respectful of you even though he’s closed off. Someone like him who experienced the torture he’s been through isn’t going to open up easily. It’s hard getting him to talk about himself but you’re hoping that if you start from before Hydra it will get him to open up to you a lot more.

His appointment is in a couple of minutes so you check yourself using your desk mirror to make sure everything still looks the same.

“Boss, Mr. Barnes is here,” Carly says through the phone intercom.

“Send him in.” The door opens and Bucky walks in with an uncertain look in his eyes. You give him a small yet friendly smile to ease his concerns. “Hello, Mr. Barnes. Please, have a seat.”

“Please, call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky.” He sits down on the couch across from your desk. “How was your week?” He shrugs in response. “Did you do anything special?”

“I spent time with Sam and his family.”

“How did that make you feel? Did you like it?”

“It was alright,” he sighs.

“Did you uphold your three rules?”

Rule #1: Don’t do anything illegal. Rule #2: Don’t hurt anyone. Rule #3: Introduce himself as James Barnes instead of Bucky, formerly the Winter Solider.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I’m proud of the progress you’ve made since seeing me. Is there anything you’d like to talk about specifically that happened this week?”

“No.”

He can’t seem to look at you. He’s talking to you, that’s a plus, even though he’s only giving you one-syllable words.

“Bucky, if this is going to work, I need you to try here. I’m not asking you to write me a novel about your life. I’m asking you to give a little. Can you do that for me?” you ask in a gentle tone.

“Okay,” he sighs and looks into your eyes. “I’ll try.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Bucky looks like he wants to cry. Anything about Steve makes him question everything about him. He left Bucky. He left everyone behind to start a life in another timeline. “This is a safe space. Everything you’re feeling is valid, Bucky. When you’re ready, I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

It takes him ten long minutes to find the courage to talk and when he does, he can’t look at you.

“What if Steve was wrong about me? I was under Hydra’s influence when we crossed paths again, and he did everything he could to save me. He even brought me to Wakanda to get that shit out of my head. What if it’s still there? What if they say those words again and I’m back to being the Winter Soldier? Sometimes I don’t think I’m worth saving.”

You want to cry for him. He is so badly damaged that it will take a long time if not the rest of his life to be okay again. He might have happy moments here and there, but those fears will always be there. You have to choose your words carefully.

“It’s hard to see the good in someone who has done bad, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Steve remembered his best friend and knew the kind of person he was. Steve remembered something in you that is still true to this day.”

“What?” he asks and looks up at you with hints of tears in his eyes.

“I see a man trying to do good, to atone for his mistakes, and I think that’s someone worth saving. Steve saw it, too.” A single tear escapes his eyes but he doesn’t wipe it away. “If you are who you think you are, you wouldn’t feel remorse for what they did to you. The fact that you do shows me that you’re more than what they put in your head. You’re trying to do good with the bad you’ve been given, and that’s not a bad person.”

You’ve made excellent progress with Bucky this session, and you think the next one is going to go by just as smoothly. He only gets an hour but you make the most of the rest of the hour.

“The same time next week?” you ask.

“I’ll see you then, Doc,” Bucky smiles and leaves your office.

With each passing session, you and Bucky form a stronger bond until he realizes he looks forward to being with you. You make his day a bit brighter but the last thing he is gonna do is tell you that. You’d never have romantic relations with a client but you can’t say the same once they no longer are your clients.

You show up to work one week dabbing makeup on your face while driving. You’re on the phone with your husband. He isn’t on speakerphone and your phone is resting in one of the cup holders, but you can still hear every word he is saying as clear as day. He is yelling that loudly at you. You forgot to do the dishes before you left for work and now he is telling you what a burden you are, how much he hates you, and that you’re useless…

…and those are the nice things.

“Baby, I was running late this morning. I’m sorry,” you sigh and pick up the phone.

“I will deal with you later,” he growls and hangs up the phone.

You’d cry but then you’d ruin your makeup, and you’re already at work. You push down your feelings about your abusive husband and walk into work. You gasp at how hot it is, and you look at your assistant who has her work jacket off.

“What is going on in here? Why is it so hot?”

“The air conditioning is broken but someone is coming to look at it later.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “How many today?”

“Three.”

“Send them through.”

You get through the first two clients with as few problems as possible but by the time Bucky comes in, you’re almost about to break. You're tired, your face is pulsing with pain, your makeup feels like cake at this point, and you don’t know how much longer you can stand sitting in the heat.

“Hi, Bucky. Please have a seat,” you greet. He sees the immediate shift in your behavior and you’ve only said six words to him. “I’d like to start this session by talking about last week. You said something about taking a trip with Sam, right? How did that go?”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Bucky, we’re here to talk about you, not me.”

Bucky has to let it go for right now but he can’t when you wipe your face to clear the sweat. You forget that you have makeup on otherwise you wouldn’t have wiped your face with your handkerchief. It’s not entirely present but Bucky knows a bruise when he sees one, and you have a dark one near your eye.

“Need a medic?”

“I’m fine. I fell.”

“I’ve fallen plenty of times. I’ve gotten hit enough times to know a bruise caused by a punch when I see one.”

“Bucky, please. Drop it. We’re not here to talk about me.”

Bucky notices you play with your wedding ring nervously whenever the spotlight is on you. He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what’s been happening here. For your sake, he lets it go. The session is cut short due to Bucky needing to be somewhere, and you made it clear he is still getting charged the full hour whether he uses it or not. He was fine with it so you moved on with three other clients after him.

The air conditioning was fixed after the first client, so you redid your makeup in the bathroom to be more presentable. It’s late when you finish with your last client, and you curse at the time. Your husband is going to kill you if you’re late again. You gather your things and rush out of your office, but Carly stops you before you can get far.

“Listen, I’m running late, so can you--”

“The police called earlier. I told them you were with a client and they asked if you could call them back. They said it was urgent.”

“Oh, okay,” you stutter. She hands you her phone after redialing the last number called. “Hi, my name is Y/N. My assistant got a call earlier?” You hear the words they’re saying but your brain isn’t processing them. “Wait, I’m sorry, he’s what?”

“Your husband is dead, ma’am. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“How? When? I just talked to him this morning.”

“My guess is that he’s been dead for maybe four hours. He died from a severe beating and blunt-force trauma to the head.”

All you hear them saying is that you’re free. You’re finally free. No more pain. You’re not sure who killed your husband because he didn’t have a lot of enemies. Despite how he treated you, he was very charming to everyone else. He put up this facade that made him look like a saint when really, he was the devil.

When you show up to work the next week, your hair is pinned up, you have light makeup on, a nice outfit, and your heart is light. You’ve never been happier now that your husband is out of the picture. He was a wealthy man, so you got all of his money to use how you see fit. He was so horrible to you so maybe his money will bring some happiness to people when you donate a chunk to different charities.

Bucky shows up right on time, and you give him a smile when he enters your room. You look down and notice some bruising and scabs on his knuckles, and if his metal hand could scar as easily as flesh, he’d have scars there, too.

“Have a seat, Bucky.”

“You look happier.”

You chuckle in amusement. You look Carly through the small glass window who is busy taking calls for you to listen to later. You look back at Bucky who raises his eyebrows in question.

“The following conversation didn’t happen.” He nods in understanding. “My husband is dead. Someone killed him.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long five minutes.

“Did he deserve it?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Did you break rule number two?”

“I might have,” he smiles, “but I had a really good reason.”

“What reason is that?” you ask and sit back.

“There’s this woman I know, and for the first time since I met her, she actually had a genuine smile on her face… and it is gorgeous. I guess her husband didn’t know what he had when he had her.”

You smile at Bucky.

“No, he didn’t.”

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katiexpunk · 4 months

Note

okay i’m feeling a little delulu and playing pool with the boys right now. ideas are rolling and i want a fic where joel fucks reader on a pool table (breeding kink maybe?!?) you’re the best

Run the Table | Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table. Word Count: ~6K Warnings: Dubcon from the perspective that the reader is a little drunk, but she's definitely a willing participant. Family feuds. Alcohol. Age gap implied but not referenced explicitly. Flirting and bantering. Threesome with the Miller Bros. Betting. Pool. Oral (m and f receiving). Fingering. Praise. Use of daddy. Fucking on pool table. Pool. Suggestive use of a cue stick. Dom undertones from Joel. Hard core breeding kink. References to pregnancy. Cum kink. Cum swallowing. Praise kink. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Use of pet names. Tommy and Joel are suave in this, but reader gives them a run for their money. Use of slut. No descriptions of reader, except that she has boobs and hair. Minimally edited. Filth, filth, filth. Authors Note: Thank you so much for the ask, Abby @javipispunk/@barzalmatty! This was such a treat to write. You naughty girl, I hope this inspires you, or at the very least, makes you O. Thanks for submitting this ask in babe, ily. This will be my last fic of 2023. Thank you all so much for your continued support.

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The living room, which was all holiday cozy a few days ago, now feels like a battleground in the weird liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. You can’t remember the last time you spent more than three consecutive days with your family, and now you remember why.

The family drama has hit an all-time high, with arguments about the dumbest stuff echoing through the house – your mother yelling that someone put her Pyrex in the wrong cabinet, your father yelling at your brother for adjusting the settings on the remote. Hell, even the dog is over it; spending most of the day lounging in front of the LED fireplace that your mother picked up at Costco last winter. You never really understood that one, given your living room has an actual functioning fireplace.

Of course, you all love each other, it’s just that the festive candle is now nearly snuffed out; not to be lit again until Thanksgiving. Or if your mother had it her way, Easter, but you haven’t cared much for Easter since that one year that your cousin Ron ate way too many hard-boiled eggs and couldn’t stop farting all night. Never again, you swore to yourself then, and still swear to yourself now.

You come back to your hometown maybe once a year, twice if someone dies. You haven’t lived here in years, and yet the streets bear the weight of nostalgia, each corner holding echoes of memories that time has both polished and weathered. The town is a paradox, frozen in a bittersweet dance between familiarity and change.

You’re cozied up under a blanket on the couch, a glass of red swirling in one hand, the Eve Babitz novel your roommate gifted to you in the other. Try as you might, you just can’t seem to relax; the words on the page are blending into a snarled blob of ink. The tension is too much; the heavy air in the house makes it difficult to concentrate. Fuck this.

You throw on your coat and slip out of the house. I’m going out, be back later, you call out but you don’t wait for your words to be acknowledged before the front door slams shut, not that anyone was listening in the first place.

You pause on your front stoop in the cool night air and take a deep inhale, tilting your head up to the sky, the moonlight coating your face like a veil. The winter air that fills your lungs makes you feel alive, and it’s then that you realize how close you were to suffocating mere moments ago.

You stand under the stars and consider your options before eventually landing on the best of them. Your old watering hole from college; the one with the heavy pours and the best pool tables in the town – Joel’s Place.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way there. In the silence, it’s easy to let your let your mind wander. You haven’t been back in years, and yet, your mind still drifts to thoughts of dimples and salt-and-pepper curls. You wonder if he’ll remember you – not likely, you think.

Your stomach flutters at the thought anyway.

++++

The door to Joel’s Place creaks open, releasing a gust of frigid winter air that clings to your coat. Note to self, bring a scarf next time. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast, and the familiar scent of the aged wood and whiskey acts like a time machine and transports you back in time to your early 20s. It’s just the same; the mahogany bar, stools with cracked leather seats, and vintage beer signs adorning the walls.

While aspects of the town may have changed, you’re pleased to find that Joel’s Place has not.

As the door swings shut behind you, you find yourself in a familiar dimly lit space, except – it’s not – it’s quiet. A little too quiet. The pool tables in the distance stand untouched, their felt surfaces waiting for the familiar crack of balls colliding. The hanging lights above them cast a warm, dim glow, illuminating the emptiness that seems to linger. It starkly contrasts the energy you were surrounded by earlier in the night.

The place is empty, except for one customer at the bar. The bartender – Joel, you hope – is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate for a moment, taking in the scene before deciding to sit an appropriate two stools away from the man, not wanting to be awkward. You don’t think he would mind, not really, but you suppose the rule in a situation like this is similar to public transport etiquette. If there’s more than one open seat, you never sit directly next to anyone.

“Excuse me, sir – is this seat taken?” You ask, a hint of sweetness and formality behind your voice. You know it’s not, but the manners that were hammered into you from your tidy upbringing are hard to shake.

The man looks at you, the neck of the beer he’s nursing parting from his lips as he does. Now that you have a full look at him, he’s quite gorgeous. Olive sunkissed skin, dark curls, deep brown eyes that all but scream trouble.

“All yours, sugar,” he responds. And oh, he’s southern to boot, with a hint of a twang behind his inflection.

You slip your puffy coat off your shoulders, revealing your ensemble for the night; a simple pair of jeans and a tight long-sleeve cashmere sweater that cups the curve of your breasts and lifts them just right, a lovely slit down the middle that exposes just enough. You hook your coat under the bar and pull out the stool, its metal legs scratching against the floor as you do.

“So, the producers didn’t have enough to pay for some extras for this show, or what?” you joke, a slight smirk on your face as you settle yourself onto the stool.

“‘Spose not,” he responds, a hint of a smile on his face as he brings the bottle back to his lips, his eyes locking with yours as he does.

“And the uh–bartender, Joel, if I remember correctly,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice, “he here, or is this just a one-man show?”

And wouldn’t that be something, you here all alone with just him.

“Can’t be a one-man show with you here, darlin',” he responds, his dark eyes drinking you down like the beer in his hand. “He’s here, just in the back hooking up a new keg,” he adds.

“Oh,” you respond, your voice a smidge too high – like you’re some fucking school girl about to see her crush in 3rd period. “Good, that’s good. Can’t have all of our friends here go thirsty,” you retort, making a vague gesture with your palm to the empty space in the bar in an attempt to recover yourself from your very obvious interest in the bartender being here. So stupid.

“Can’t have that, they’re a rowdy bunch” he responds with a wink and you flash him a warm smile. “You’re funny, I like you,” he adds, “name’s Tommy, by the way, and you are?”

You give him yours with an extension of your hand. His swallows yours, but he’s gentle and discerning with the shake he gives it. He holds you there, just looking, and you feel a warmth creep up to your face. With your hands still interlocked, a broad figure pushes through the door from the kitchen with a resounding thud.

You turn to face him, and his amber eyes immediately find yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your pulse quickens, and you’re now acutely aware of the fact that you’re still linked with Tommy.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Either ‘m getting old and my eyes are deceiving me, or it’s little Miss Shark sitting at my bar, chatting up my brother,” Joel lets out, his voice low and even. The corners of his mouth lift and you think he might smile, but his face goes just as unreadable as always as he grabs for a bottle behind the bar. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart. Good thing, too. You ran out some of my best-paying customers."

You don’t dwell on the comment, your mind is too absorbed, drunk off the fact that he remembers you. It’s been years, but you swear he hasn’t aged a day. You can’t help but eye fuck him as he slides a glass in front of you, and pours you a finger of whiskey. Not only does he remember you, but he remembers your go-to drink, as well.

As you lift the edge of the glass to your lips, you see Tommy shift his gaze from Joel and back to you, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief.

“Wait, little Miss Shark,” he begins, tipping the bottle in his hands in your direction as if to point at you, “Yo–you’re the one who ran the tables here for years? Shit, darlin’,” he says, dropping his gaze to the bartop for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s impressed, before looking back at you under his lashes.

“That so hard to believe?” you respond, your voice coated in the warmth of the alcohol. Your cheeks are hot, but you’re not confident it’s just from the liquor; more than likely it’s a result of Joel’s eyes, heavy like boulders, that haven’t left you since he walked in.

Tommy doesn’t answer you.

“Not my fault they underestimated me,” you retort, nursing down the amber liquid in your glass.

Joel laughs.

You and Tommy both turn to face him.

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’,” he adds, nodding his head slightly to you, the bottle hovering in his hand, signaling you for a refill. He pours a glass for him and Tommy this time, too.

You look at him, mouth slightly agape like you’re waiting for him to finish his side of the story. He turns to face Tommy, one hand resting on the edge of the bartop, his knuckles bleaching under his weight. The other grips the glass in front of him.

“This one used to sit at my bar, let men buy her free drinks, and then she’d work pool into the conversation,” he says, pausing to take a sip. “She’d be all, ‘I’ve never played, maybe you could teach me blah, blah’ batting her pretty little eyes until they’d cave. By the end of the night, she’d have them makin’ bets and melting like putty in her hands.”

You try to hide your embarrassment behind your glass. He’s not wrong. You used to do that. You’re not sure if you did it because you were bored, not like there’s much else to do in this shit town anyway, or because you liked the attention, but whatever the reason you have to admit it was fun.

Besides, most of them deserved it anyway. If losing a few hundred dollars was the biggest price they’d have to pay for flirting with a young college girl while their wives sat at home waiting for them to come home and half satisfy them, well then, you were okay with that. Plus it kept your rent paid.

But that was a long time ago; it’s been ages since you’ve even picked up a pool stick. You just hope that the old idiomatic expression, old habits die hard, rings true for you now.

The alcohol that courses through your veins gives you a sense of confidence to be a bit bold. You prop your elbows on the sticky bartop and gaze up at Joel. “You gonna kick me out then, Joel? Punish me for all of my wrong-doings?” you flirt, testing, teasing. You flint your eyes over your shoulder to look back at Tommy, and can’t help the surge of arousal that you feel when you notice his eyes are already on your backside. You look at Joel and see the clench in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, his pupils blown wide open.

“No, ‘m not gonna kick you out, sweetheart,” he says, filling the glasses once more. Between that and the wine from earlier this afternoon, you’re already feeling quite buzzed, and more than a little reckless. You watch him complete the pours before reaching for your glass.

“But you are gonna have to make it up to me somehow,” he adds. Your pulse doubles and there’s a familiar tug at your navel when you think of what he might mean. Before you have time to respond, he adds “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet this time. You see Tommy here is a bit of a pool shark himself, and well, baby you already know what I am.” Both of them look at you with dark, hungry eyes. “You beat us, you can have whatever you want,” he adds.

Your skin feels hot, and you suddenly wish you opted for something cooler than a sweater. “And if either of you wins?” you ask.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Joel responds, downing the last of his drink, shooting Tommy a knowing look.

It’s a trap, you know it is.

And yet you agree.

++++

Joel rounds out from behind the bar and leads the way. He walks past the front door and locks it before pulling the plug on the neon open sign that hands in the nearby window. As you three approach the pool table, Tommy picks up a cue stick leaning against the nearby wall – he twirls it in his hands and hands it to you. He picks up another and passes it to Joel, before finally grabbing a third for himself.

“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Darlin’,” Tommy says with a wink.

You playfully roll your eyes. “We’ll see,” you cheekily respond, toying with the end of the cue stick and rubbing chalk on the tip end of it, being a little suggestive with your movements. Both Tommy and Joel notice.

You gather around the table, and Joel sets up the balls. “Alright, break time. You’re up first, sweetheart,” Joel says. You lock eyes with Joel for a moment and fuck, this is gonna be rough. He has you so flustered and you haven’t even started.

You refocus your gaze on the triangular arrangement of balls. You steady your feet and bend over the table, smiling a little when you feel both of them look at your ass. With a swift motion, you strike the cue ball, scattering the rest across the table, sinking a solid and a stripe into two adjacent pockets. Not so bad for being a little rusty, you think.

Joel lets out a low whistle and looks at Tommy. “Shit, brother, we might be in trouble here,” he says. You smile at the compliment, and round around the table so you’re directly in front of Tommy. You look at Joel as you bend over the table, lining yourself up to hit the solid ball with a clear path to the pocket in front of it.

Your ass skirts against the front of Tommy’s crotch and his breath hitches in his throat. As you’re about to take your shot, a large palm ghosts over the curve of your hip, and the sensation causes you to miss the shot. Fuck.

“Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart, you a little distracted?” Tommy coos.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

Joel’s up next. His broad frame rounds around the table, and his shoulder brushes against you as he does. He finds his best angle and deftly lines the cue stick up, his biceps straining under the cloth of his shirt at the new position. You walk over to the line of his shot and bend over on the opposite end of the table, your tits spilling out of the slit in your shirt, effectively distracting him. He takes his shot and misses.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

“Ooo, good effort on that one,” you tell Joel, placating him, “better luck next time,” you conclude with a wink. Joel clears his throat and steps back from the table.

Tommy circles the table next, attempting to find an easy shot. “So I’ve been thinking, we should make this game a bit more interesting,” you say. You watch as Tommy bends over and lines up his turn. He pulls the cue stick back, and just as he’s about to knock it against the ball, you finish “For every shot we miss, we have to strip a piece of clothing." The shock of your words causes Tommy to miss his shot.

“Guess that means you’re starting us off,” you tell Tommy. He shoots you a look. His hands find the buckle of his belt and he undoes it, discarding it on a nearby chair.

The three of you play like that until both Joel and Tommy are clad in nothing but their boxers and socks. You, on the other hand, are still mostly clothed, except for your sweater. Your game started rough, but despite their best efforts to distract you, you’re running the table.

With only one ball left on the table, you walk up to where both of them stand side-by-side. You stand there facing both of them, and they allow their eyes to linger on your chest. Tommy is standing with his hands cupped in front of his crotch, in an attempt to hide his growing bulge. Joel, however, is unreadable as ever.

You lock eyes with him as you snake your arms behind your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. You unhook it, your nipples stiffening in response to air. He casts a quick gaze down to your breasts but doesn’t allow them to linger before he looks at you. His jaw is stiff, and he looks at you like you’re something to eat. Keeping your eyes peered into his, you hold the bra out and give it to Tommy. The moment is so charged. So many things being said with no words, all body language discussion.

You take a few steps back before turning around to grab your cue stick that’s resting against the edge of the pool table. You walk over to the other end of the table and line up the final shot of the game. “So I’ve been thinking about what I want as my prize,” you say, bending down far enough that your tits smush against the felt on the table. “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Joel asks. You let out a little hum of satisfaction, dragging the cue stick back. “Want you both to fuck me, right here on this table,” you add, punctuating your statement with your final shot. You watch with bated breath, releasing it when you see the last ball on the table fall into the pocket.

The three of you stand there in silence, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“You heard her, brother,” Tommy says, advancing towards you. “A bet’s a bet.” His hands find your hips from behind, and he pulls your backside against his firm body, dropping his head to nip at your neck. His lips trail up the side of the sensitive skin there and you let out a little purr as his tongue darts out to lick your pulse.

Your lusty gaze watches as Joel closes the gap between your bodies, and he pauses inches from you. He lifts his palm and uses the backside of it, trailing his knuckles down your cheek, over the soft swell of your chest, until his hand opens up and cups your breast.

It’s all dizzying touch, your vision already a little fuzzy from your buzz, and with Joel’s hand on your body in addition to Tommy’s mouth, you’re the one who’s putty in their hands this time. Joel brings your nipple to a stiff peak using his thumb and forefinger, before he lifts them back up to your face. He hooks two fingers under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Joel says, voice low. You look up at him with doe eyes.

“I know. Now what are you going to do about it?” you taunt.

Tommy stops his affections on your neck and looks up to lock eyes with Joel. He gives a knowing smirk and Tommy reaches his arms around your body and begins to undo the button on your jeans, the zipper following, before he's pulling them down far enough for you to step out of them.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to fucking ruin you. Right here on this table, just like you asked,” Joel says.

“Think you can handle that, hmm? Want both of your daddy’s to stuff that pretty little cunt of yours until you can’t think straight?” And fuck, he’s filthy. His words go straight to your core and you feel slick pooling in your panties, your pussy just begging to be touched.

Before giving you time to respond, his large hand comes down to cup your sex.

“Shit, baby. All this for us?” Joel asks. Your eyes close when you feel Tommy continue his assault on your neck. You’re pinned between both of their bodies, their hard cocks pressing up against you from both angles. It’s already so intense. The want, the sheer desire you feel for both of them is almost overwhelming.

“Use your words, Darlin’, we wanna hear it,” Tommy rasps against your skin.

“Ye–yes, all for you both, want you so bad,” you respond with a moan. A groan reverberates through Joel’s chest, and he gives Tommy the same knowing look they’ve shared all night.

Tommy steps back and comes to stand by Joel’s side. “You’re gonna have to earn it. On your knees, baby,” Joel commands.

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, wooden floor against your bare calves. You position yourself in front of both of them and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for one of them to give you further instructions, practically worshipping at the altar of the two gorgeous men above you. Joel reaches down and brings his pointer finger to lift your chin to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. As he releases you, they both nod and you take that as permission to release both of them from the confines of their fabric prison.

You start with Tommy, dipping your fingers beneath the band of his boxers. Instinctively, your eyes find Joel’s and you glance at him as if to ask for permission again. He nods once more, and you drag them down to the middle of Tommy’s thighs. The cock that springs free is fucking delectable; a perfect width and a sizable length. The tip is prominent and there’s a thick vein bulging along the side of it. He’s well endowed, and thank fuck for that. Your hands reach up to grasp the base of it, and your tongue darts out to lick the bead of pre-cum that’s welled at the tip. It’s salty and delicious, leaving you wanting more, more, more.

You pull your mouth away from Tommy and replace it with your hand, slowly and firmly stroking the length of him, his skin smooth like butter under your palm. He starts to protest when he realizes what your next move is. You use your free hand to release Joel from his fabric confines and moan at the sight of his cock. Of course, they both would be blessed below the belt. As delicious as Tommy’s cock is, his older brother has a bit of a lead on him.

Truthfully, you’re not surprised in the slightest. Joel’s cock is well above average in length, but the main attraction is the thickness. Just from the looks of it, your fingers probably wouldn’t meet if you wrapped your fingers around him. His girthiness intimidates you, but you don’t scare easily. You were hungry before, but now you’re positively ravenous. You kitten lick Joel’s tip then fully suck on it, eliciting a throaty groan from him. You smile around it, pleased at yourself for being able to affect him like that.

You want to please the pair of dangerously handsome brothers, but you’re aching for praise from Joel.

“Lay back, baby,” Tommy commands, guiding your hips up to rest against the grain of the pool table. And you do, the texture of the felt rubbing against your back in a soft embrace. Both of their hands find your chest with flat palms, and they drag them down over the expanse of your breasts and stomach. They pause, both of them face-to-face with your cunt. ‘Go ‘head brother, all yours,” Joel says to Tommy.

And shit, the hot mouth that greets your wet core is inviting in more ways than one. His lips lock around your waiting clit and you moan in response to the sensation. As Tommy sucks at your center, his tongue making perfect rotations on your clit, you can’t help but let go.

“Shit, that’s so good – need more,” you beg, and Joel can tell the ask you’re making is for him. He slips his middle finger into your pussy, and your wall clenches around him. The pressure that Tommy applies to your clit is so good, you could probably come just from him, but the added drag of Joel’s finger sawing in and out of you reminds you that you want more, need more, need him.

“Joel, yes – fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. Tommy continues tracing patterns over your clit and Joel adds a second, then a third finger, which you greedily accept. “More!” you beg, and Joel obliges, slipping a fourth finger into you. “Such a tight fucking cunt, not sure how I could fit another, but happy to stretch you out baby, gotta get you ready f'us,” Joel says. Tommy purrs as he laps up your release, and Joel groans, wishing he was the one at your chef’s table, sampling all of your flavors.

With the way both of them work at you, you feel like a helpless fish, caught on their hook. They dropped the bait and you were quick to bite, now having to pay the price for your decision. The both of them reel in their line, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. They drag you to the water line of your orgasm, and you give up any hope of staying below the shoreline.

Your release washes over you like a wake from a boat, an inevitable. You let the waters fall from your shore before you open your eyes and see both of them, their hard cocks staring you in the eyes. Giving you a moment to come up for air, Joel gently strokes your cheek, an act of tenderness amongst the debauchery taking place.

Tommy gives Joel a knowing look and lifts his right leg to help hoist him onto the pool table. With you spread out underneath both of them, he positions himself right above your head. You all but drool at the sight of him stroking his cock from this vantage point, Tommy looking down at you as if he were seeing his reflection in a pond for the first time. His jaw hangs slack as he works himself from base to tip.

Meanwhile, Joel’s hands find your hips and he deftly tugs you down, so your waiting pussy is just barely hanging over the edge of the pool table. He puts your legs over his brawny forearms, bearing the weight of your lower half, and spreads your legs wide, fully exposing your glistening cunt to him.

You’re almost shivering with how badly you want his cock inside you. He grabs the base of it in one hand, the tip of him barely ghosting against your wet and dripping seam. He collects some of your arousal on him, before using his thumb to drag it over the length of his member.

He knows he could fuck you just like this, lord knows you’re wet enough, and he's done his due diligence to stretch you, but he knows he’s a lot to take. He leans his head down and spits, his saliva falls onto the tip of him, partially covering himself and your clit. He taps the mushroom head of his cock on your clit a few times, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your bodies as he pulls it back.

As much as you would love to focus on Tommy’s length in your face, your sole attention is on Joel, who’s about to fill you to the hilt. “Mouth wide open, baby,” Tommy begs above you, calling you back to his attention. You feign your hardest to listen. You open your jaw wide, and he places the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, dragging the heaviness of it over the expanse of it.

Just as he slides in deeper into your wet and waiting mouth, Joel bunts his hips forward, pressing half of him into your tight hole. It’s so much, and they’re both not even halfway in yet.

They lock eyes with each other and synchronize their thrusts. Joel pulls back and thrusts into your cunt, and Tommy pulls back momentarily before your mouth welcomes him deeper into your throat, so deep in fact that the tip of him bumps up against the back of it, nearly causing you to gag. The corners of your eyes prick with tears, and whether it’s from the stretch of Joel’s cock, or the head of Tommy’s knocking on the back door of your throat, you’ll never know.

“Shit, brother. She’s taking this cock so well, Jesus fuck,” Tommy mutters, thrusting his member in and out of you with a relentless pace, his hands now tangled in your hair like a bird's nest in a tree.

“God damn, you’re telling me. Little cunt is taking me so well,” and his words cause you to clench harder around him.

“Gotta ease up baby, or both of your daddy’s are gonna fill you sooner than we both want to,” Tommy rasps behind a breathless voice, “so good, so fucking good, my god.” You revel in their doubled praise and you can’t help but clench tighter, and Joel notices.

“Ah fuck, brother. I think that’s what she wants. Little slut wants us to pump her full of our cum,” Joel rasps, continuing his relentless pace, dragging his cock in and out of you. You moan in response, your words muffled around the expanse of Tommy, “Fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, both of you.”

“You hear that,” Tommy says in a breathless voice. “You heard her, give the girl what she wants,” Tommy encourages Joel. And fuck. These two are going to be the death of you.

“That what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy Joel and Daddy Tommy to pump you full of all of our seed, want us to leave you dripping with both of us,” Joel says, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips strong enough to bruise. “Yes, fuck, fill me up, want every last drop of both of my daddy’s cum.”

Joel looks up at Tommy.

“Wouldn’t that be quite the fucking sight? Her all round from your baby, her pretty tits engorged with milk, me fucking dribbling out of her mouth," Tommy says.

"Such a dirty little slut, so good for us,” Tommy praises. Had anyone else uttered those words your skin would crawl, but it’s different coming from the pair of them. You’d let them spread you open wide and fuck you full of their come any day.

“Fuck, I think she likes the thought of that, I can feel her clamping down on me, gripping me so goddamn tight, brother,” Joel rasps. Your lips tighten around Tommy, and they both continue to use you, fucking you like they want, like how you know you need. They abuse both of your holes in their relentless chase for their own orgasm.

“Shit brother, ‘m close, not gonna last much longer,” Tommy groans, and you can tell. His cock stiffens and his pulses become more and more erratic.

“Not yet, need her to come again for us first,” Joel demands, dropping his thumb to your clit, beginning to drag slow and near-perfect circles over your sensitive bud.

“Need you to give us one more. C’mon, you can do it,” Joel continues to egg you on. “You’re so pretty when you come, give us one more, baby. Our perfect girl, let us feel it.”

With that, your whole body convulses and your vision goes white. You can’t help the shakes that follow, your entire body trembling like an earthquake. “Fuckfuckfuck, yesssss,” you cry out, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to – until now.

Joel and Tommy continue their movements, slowing as they reach their own peaks. “So close, baby, gonna come down this pretty fucking throat, gonna be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick load,” Tommy grunts out before he stills and shoots his spend down your throat. It’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

Joel watches as you greedily swallow his brother's load. “Such a good girl. You gonna tell your pretty little cunt to swallow all of me too, hmm? Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full,” he raps. “Gonna plug you so good after ‘m done, not drop is gonna go to waste, baby.”

You gulp, swallowing the rest of Tommy’s spend before answering, “Yes, Joel, p-please fill me up with your come, daddy,” you squawk out, voice hoarse from Tommy’s crusade on your mouth.

“As you wish, pretty girl,” Joel teases, as if he wasn’t the one to come up with the idea.

He thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you with his cum, just as he promised. He stills inside of you, and his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The sticky sweat on his skin makes it tacky, clinging to you in a way that parallels how you’re clinging to this moment. Both of your chests are heaving, ragged breaths coming out almost in sync.

After a few long moments, Joel reluctantly lifts his head up and slowly pulls out, but before any of his load drips out he uses a finger to plug your hole. You gasp and your body jolts from the oversensitivity. “Makin’ sure it sticks, darlin’,” Joel coos in your ear and gently moves the stray strands of hair from your face.

Thoroughly fucked out, you ask the pair of them, “So just out of curiosity, what would you have asked for if either of you had won?”

They both look at each other as if to decide if they want to tell you the truth or not.

“Come back next year for a rematch and we’ll tell you,” Tommy says.

With the way both of them look at you, how could you not?

It’s not even January and yet, here you are – excited for Easter.

What a fucking plot twist that is.

END

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @pedrostories

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

Happy New Year!

#joel and tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #threes0me #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou fanfiction

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notjustjavierpena · 14 days

Note

Doesn’t javier’s wife get tantrums when she is pregnant?

Unreasonable (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: She sure as fuck does. Javier is too in love with the idea of her carrying his child to get mad about it though.

Summary: First-time pregnancy and a husband who breathes a little too loudly is enough to make you rage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, pregnancy and all the following symptoms (e.g. puking), pregnancy rage, cravings, kisses, reader is hormonal and unreasonable

Word count: 1.5k

Unreasonable

“Could you breathe a little louder?” You ask from the bed. You throw your novel to the side, unable to concentrate, while sending daggers in your husband’s direction.

You are sitting against the headboard of your bed with all the decoration pillows scattered across the sheets, unable to find one that seems to do the job of supporting your aching back during your first pregnancy. This second trimester is hell on Earth; morning sickness, sore breasts and back, hormones running amok in your system, and no way of getting comfortable. It doesn’t help that Javier seems physically unbothered, daring to move around with ease in your shared home while folding laundry.

“Honey,” he says gently, turning towards you with a smile that you find provoking, “I’m not breathing differently than I usually do.”

You seethe from your position because you know he is right. The book you were reading amongst several candy wrappers lies face down next to you as if it’s hiding before Javier has figured that is what he should be doing too. You cross your arms over your chest but your boobs feel too big and sore for you to do it the way you normally would. Every instinct in your mind is telling you to attack because you have no way of seeming reasonable in this, “Do you have to squeeze a soccer ball out of your pussy in three months?”

Javier raises his eyebrows at your crude choice of words and your terrifying mental image, “No…”

“That’s right,” you huff and then suddenly you are off into a scolding interrogation that Javier can do nothing about but endure. Your stare can freeze the sun, “Let’s see. Do you have to pee all the time?”

“No…”

You go on, “Do you find yourself crying over commercials on the TV with no way of stopping it?”

“No.”

“What about your pelvic floor?” You think smoke might be coming out of your ears, “Do you feel like it is going to rupture when you try to reach something you have dropped on the floor?”

“Honey…”

“Does your back hurt so much that you contemplate if it’s easier to just pee your pants instead of getting up?” You ask. Ironically, you have the biggest urge to get up and pace around the room like a caged animal.

“I could massage your back,” he suggests so sweetly but not even that can calm your rage.

“Haven’t you done enough?” You growl, “This is your little fucking love-goblin growing inside of me and all you had to do was grunt like a caveman and roll over.”

Javier blinks, trying a feeble protest, “Baby… I don’t think tha—“

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me!” You rage against him, heart beating rapidly in your chest, “I am here either suffering in bed or waddling around like a goddamn incubator! The least you can do is try to make me feel better!”

“I just offered a massage that you declined so maybe you want some time for yourself instead?” He tries again.

“Time for myself? How on Earth am I supposed to spend time for myself when you are breathing so loudly that our neighbors can hear it?” You avoid his gaze.

He opens his mouth to speak but you are not done.

“Not to mention the nausea that follows me everywhere I go. Quality time with good old nausea!” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “If I had a dollar for every time I have puked up my guts since you put this baby in me, I could buy myself a private island and be rid of your wheezing airways!”

You inhale deeply and frantically as you run out of breath. It’s then you decide that you are done, scooting further down on the bed to lie down on your side with one of the pillows supporting your pregnant belly.

You fume quietly. Javier stands immovable.

Eventually, you pout too. Your husband moves to stand by your side but he doesn’t touch you, “How about we order some food? Do you want to order some food?”

“Actually, Javi, no, I don’t want to order some food,” you reply, still with an attitude.

“Are you sure, baby?” He gently presses on.

“Yes, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t say it.”

“I’m gonna order some food for myself then,” he lets you know, walking back to pick up the laundry basket.

“Yes, fine, whatever,” you sigh loudly, “I don’t care.”

But you do care. As soon as the doorbell rings with Javier’s food delivery, you have thought about the million different things that he might have gotten for himself to eat and it has caused your stomach to rumble. You pout for real this time.

Eventually, it becomes too much and you get onto your feet, tiptoeing down the stairs to satisfy your curiosity. You don’t need the food; you just want to see if your guesses about Javier’s dinner menu are correct.

You peek out from behind the door frame, staring into the kitchen where he is placing the delivery bag on the counter. The whole house smells like pizza and fried food, the scent having dragged you downstairs to gaze longingly as your husband is rummaging through the plastic bag to empty it of its contents.

You spot the box of french fries next to a strawberry milkshake and frown, shifting slightly where you stand and trying not to feel emotional about your stomach growling for food. You lean your cheek against the doorframe and sigh loudly.

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” your husband suddenly says and even if you purposely made him aware of your presence in the room, you still feel on the spot when he notices you.

“Hi,” you try to get a better glimpse of what he has ordered for himself, “What are you having?”

“I decided on that pizza place on the corner where you also get your haircut sometimes,” he says nonchalantly and you curse your emotions for getting the better of you earlier. You love that place.

“Really?” You whimper.

“Yeah,” he continues and stuffs a few fries into his mouth as he takes out a pizza box from the bag, “I really wanted one of their shakes. You know… the ones made from three scoops of ice cream? And then I thought I might as well get some fries because you taught me about dipping them into it, remember that?”

“Y-yeah,” you suddenly feel your bottom lip starting to tremble. The idea of not having a strawberry shake in your hand and their pepperoni pizza with a stuffed crust is close to torture, making you so unbelievably upset that you start to cry big and ugly tears.

Javier tenses. He abandons the food on the counter the second he hears you, taking long steps to get to you quickly. He wipes his fingers in his shirt so he can brush tears away from your face, cooing softly as you wail, “Honey, shhh… There’s no need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, I was so mean,” you blubber to the point where you are heaving for breath, pregnant belly jumping as your whole body trembles, “I didn’t know that I wanted their milkshake and pizza so badly and now it feels like I am missing out. It’s really stupid but… The baby wants that strawberry milkshake, Javi.”

“I know,” he soothes and laughs softly as he brings you into his arms, giving you a hug whilst you continue your miserable crying, “That’s why I got you one.”

“What?” You sniffle, pulling back to look at him and showing off your red, puffy eyes.

“I got you a shake,” he clarifies with a small smile, “And I ordered you a pepperoni pizza too.”

Relief washes over you and you cannot help letting out a little, shaky laugh amidst your tears, “You did?”

Javier nods, eyes soft and smile warm, “Of course, I did. Te conozco (I know you).”

“With a stuffed crust?” You ask, suddenly shy and looking innocently through your lashes. You feel like you’re thirteen again, crushing on your husband all over.

“Stuffed crust,” he confirms and the smile turns into a grin. He presses a kiss to your cheek and blows a raspberry until you giggle, “No need to cry. El bebé sabe que su mamá está triste (The baby knows their mom is sad)."

“Can’t have that,” you wrap both arms around him and repeatedly kiss his face; nose, cheeks, lips, chin. He closes his eyes, taking each with a sigh that’s nowhere near annoyed. You kiss his lips in the end, “Gracias, esposo (thank you, husband).”

“De nada, mi amor (you’re welcome, my love),” he lets go of you after one last kiss, walking to dig out one more strawberry milkshake from the plastic bag and then handing it to you.

You take a long sip and do a happy dance without thinking. Meanwhile, Javier gets out your pizza too and suddenly all memory of why you were so angry earlier is gone.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️h

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shocymer · 1 month

Text

For Never to Forever

"What if the illustrator of your newest novel covers is actually your highschool enemy in the past?"

Pairing : Yunho × afab!reader

Word counts : 3.2k

Contents & warning : highly suggestive mdni! , fluff (maybe), college art students! Yunho, novelist! reader, short tempered Yunho (not in bad way), Hongjoong as reader manager, cursed words here and there, sloppy kisses, slightly dry humping, enemies to lovers.

× Happy Yunho Day! ×

Time is ticking like its always supposed to do, but Yunho couldn’t stop looking at it. The hour hand has only moved maybe a quarter of millimeter from its original position, made him annoyed even more. How could it not be, he just let his impulsive thoughts win over his professionalism few hours ago.

Well, It all happened this morning. He went to the nearest café where the appointment was made via email last night.

Sipping a cup of warm expresso that fulfilled his taste bud while waiting for his client. The café ambiance was so cozy, it plays as complementary role to his mood lifting. And the main reason of his happy self was, he got a commission for a commercial purpose the first time ever in his entire life. Plus, it’s not just an ordinary client, the request came from a well known novelist.

From : Eternal Sunshine

To : Me (Tyudongi99)

Subject : Commission Request For Novels Covers

Hello Tyudongi-nim.

I’m Eternal Sunshine, one of the novelist from Break The Wall Book Company Publisher. I really interested with your art. Would you like to work on my next novels cover? If you are interested, we can set up an appointment to discuss the further details.

I would be very grateful if you willing to accept my request.

Sincerely,

Eternal Sunshine

That’s the content of an email that Yunho received the night before. Kicking on his feet, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He’s just a 3rd year college students that majoring in art. Never expected that opening commission on a whim would bring him to this. And then, he sent a quick replied as soon as possible that leading to today’s meeting.

“Oh hello, Tyudongi-nim.” A lady pulled her hand over to Yunho. She’s accompanied by a not so tall, with blonde lock man who’s standing next to her.

He shook your offering hand politely, “Hello, uhm perhaps Eternal Sunshine-nim?”

You nodded, throwing a simple smile before sitting right across to him. He’s staring at you closely while immersed in conversation. The way your hazel orb getting lighter when the sun beam hits them or the way your dainty lips curled when you smile occasionally. Somehow, all of it reminded him with the past. Wait wait, his past?!

He blinked his eyes rapidly, couldn’t believe what he just thought earlier. Your voice became a mere chant that drowning with the café hustle and bustle sounds at this very moment. He knew exactly who you are after the pile of his memories collided like it’s clicking on the switch inside of him.

“…so that’s the concept. I really-” a loud scrape noise coming from his chair was heard, interrupted your words. “-want you to..”

You turned your gaze out of the concept papers and found him staring intently towards you. Did I say something wrong? Am I offended him or something? Those questions played over and over on your mind nicely for solid three seconds, before his sarcastic laugh startled you.

“Well well, after all those great time. Now you’re asking this ‘going to be no where artist’ to work on your covers.” He crossed his arms while still looking down at you.

Your manager had the same reaction as you, dropping the jaw for a mere seconds. Then started to talk, craving for more contexts. “Ahem.. Tyudongi-nim, I’m sorry but what do you mean exactly?”

He snorted in annoyance, “She never appreciate my works on the first place to begin with.”

Oh great, It’s been a long time for your manager, Kim Hongjoong was facing a person like this. He took a deep breath, rolled the sleeve of his shirt to the elbow, before intended to give a long nice talk. “I deeply understand if her previous words probably hurt you, I’ll apologize on her be-”

“Ah right! Now I remember!” You spurted out, interrupting your manager just like adding gasoline to the fire in this situation. Both male gazes fixed on you. “Jeong Yunho right?” You got up from your seat, trying to match his height, and of course you can’t. He’s much taller than you, but at least you got those spirit to match him.

You snapped your fingers, before pointing at him. “Surprisingly, your attitude didn’t change at all.” Then, you poked on his chest with the same finger, “if you smart enough, you can figure it out by yourself why I said that to you.”

Furrowed the eyebrows while his face turning red as a boiled lobster, he slapped your hand away. How could he figured it out, if you’re the one who’s started to pick a fight with him in the high school. He thought to himself while his eyes still pierced into yours alternately left and right. The rationality went out of his head completely, and only anger was left behind. Hurting on his own ego, he grabbed the concept papers unwittingly then shoving it in his own bag before barging out of the café furiously.

Hongjoong and you exchanged glances after all of the ruckus. He ruffled his hair as if he still digested about what the actual fuck just happen, “you need to find another illustrator, like- how’d you find a weird artist with bad temper? Plus, he just left right away?!” You shrugged, giving him an expression like “I didn’t expect that either.” While tidying up less than a half of the papers left.

“But I think, you don’t need to worry about that.” You assured him that still yapping nonstop in the background. However, you knew Yunho so well despite his unreasonable hatred towards you.

Back to the square one in the young male artist’s flat who’s regretted it all. He just sent an apology email to your manager, after reading the concept papers thoroughly. Stopping the urge to bang his head on the wall surface, right after thinking carefully. He need some pocket money for the next months surviving here, how could he nearly miss this good opportunity due to his stupid action.

An hour has passed, all of the wait just paid off. A notification popped up from the email icon on his computer taskbar. His heart almost jumped out of the rib cage that your email address written on the screen instead of your manager. He clicked it with anticipation, perhaps all of the swearing and cursed words spilled in the email body because he deserved it. But it turns out a short sentence showed up instead, “Give me your contact information.”

He was silenced, typing the replied with a blank stare just like that. To be honest, he hated to admit about what you said in the café earlier. Only to realize that he didn’t change at all.

After he shared the chat ID to you, not too long your message coming through his chat lists.

(You) It’s much easier to discuss everything here rather than in email. And I think we need to meet again. Like you know, you just left half of the written concepts behind.

Even from the text, your unbothered manner radiating through it. He felt embarrassed due to how childish he was this morning.

(Yunho) Okay cool, when?

(You) Tomorrow afternoon?

(Yunho) Okay

On the next day, he pulled up to the same café after his morning class ended. First thing first to do was sketching the given concepts on a blank paper. He’s still remembered some details from yesterday and then he let you revised it when you arrived later.

Around 3 p.m. you almost there, to catch up the appointment with Yunho. Setting your feet on the sidewalk, you only need approximately ten steps to reach the café entrance. You saw your reflection on the glass window, before your focus shift to him. His prominent side profile and his soft cheek is a perfect combination. He’s still busy scribbling something with a serious expression drawn on his face, that made him hotter than his usual self. You can’t deny how attractive he is, even in the high school back then.

You came back to your sense, after Yunho knocking on the glass for few times, and read through the way his lips mouthing “are you okay?” from the opposite. You rushed in to the café in embarrassment that he caught up you’re gawking over him for quite some time.

“Ehm, y-you.” Still struggled to collecting yourself, your eyes darting to the table. His cup of coffee is nearly empty and some of his drawing tools scattered next to it. “How long you’ve been here?” You asked.

“11 or something. I don’t have anything else to do after class.” He explained it to you while busy on sorting some of his sketches. Then he handed it over, “I made several version of it, you can choose which one that suit on your taste.”

You took all of it, scanning thoroughly one by one. After thinking for quite some time, you drew out two papers of your choice to him. “I can’t decided between these two...” And yeah, the discussion continued until the evening of that day.

A week later, Yunho stomping on his way to your flat. Proceed to press your doorbell multiple times furiously. The reason behind it? He could counts on how many times you wanted revision. Not to mention he work fast and he wanted to report on every progress he made due to his own pretention, becoming a reliable artist for his clients. But for this one, he forgot to spell out his terms and condition especially about the revision limit.

Your sleepy face slowly appeared. You just opened your door after being annoyed with the doorbell rang over and over bombarding your eardrums. “What?” Out of all of the words that exist, why those one left from your mouth instead.

Yunho folded his lips into thin line for a split second and rolled his eyes after seeing you who’s completely clueless. He’ll fume at any seconds right after doing all of those ‘Jeong Yunho pre-angry habits’. You immediately stuffed your palm on his mouth as prevention, then pulled him into your flat.

He literally would protest but it didn’t happen, because you started to talk first. “Uhm, I know there must be something on your mind. But, we can sort it out together, right?” To be truth you don’t even know what’s wrong while you sat him down on the soft fur rug which placed in your TV room.

He removed your hand out of his face, “Is it fun for you?”

Ah, shit. He’s mad mad. You shushed him down, then you ran to the kitchen pantry on the pretext of making a cup of tea for him. Strangely, he complied. He just sat there quietly, while scrolling on his phone.

After you returned with two cups of the tea in your hands, you positioned yourself sitting to his opposite. “There’s like maybe.. you feel unsatisfied about something?” You asked him carefully.

Putting his phone to the side, he cleared his throat before answered you. “Listen, how many times did you asked for revisions?”

“A.. lot?” You’re not sure about the numbers and better not to mention it.

“Yeah right!” His veiny hand brushing through the strands of his hair, trying to pull back all of his sense. “You know what, it’s over than 25 times, it’s still only a week though!”

You’re confused as he did it all of it already, you meant to give it for a month task to do. “I didn’t expect that you do that so fast. I’ll pay you handsomely, okay?” You said that in your defense.

“Are you testing me? I bet there comes a lot more after I give you the last one.” Remembering all the sleepless nights he went through, plus he still kept up with the class schedule on the day time.

“Trust me, you’ll know why I did this. Or do you want to back off instead?”

He chuckled in anger, “Or do you mean to pick a fight on the first place?”

Your patience runs out as you literally fed up by those three words ‘pick a fight’ that feels like his only vocabulary since high school days, whenever he saw you. You pulled his collar, bringing his face closer to yours. “Now it’s my turn, listen to me. First, never in any slightest on my mind to mess with you.” You hardened the grip, “and second, please be matured Jeong Yunho, we are not a kid anymore!”

He pushed you down till you’re laying flat against the rug, he automatically join to fall as you still holding onto his collar for your dear life. Luckily, his steady hands kept himself from weighting on you. “If you’re not messing with me, why did you said all of that?”

“Said what?! Speak clearly! you always yapping that I picked a fight first, I said this, I said that. Just tell me what did I say before.” Your eyes getting redder as you worked up shouting at this stubborn young male, ruining your peaceful morning.

“You told me that I’m going to be nowhere with that kind of skills.” He took a deep breath, “You never know just a mere sentence, makes me think about it all the time.” The truth was he almost gave up on his dream when the insult coming especially from you, which he once had a feelings for.

“Because your art sucks back then.” You snapped. Before he’s going feral, you circled his waist with both of your legs, then turning him over to the side. Now you’re on top of him, while holding his shoulder to keep him stay still. You told the side of your story how you heard him talking with the group of his friends, meanwhile he’s your crush at that time.

You remembered how they’re talked on your back when you’re going insane preparing for the first debut novel.

“You saw her this morning? She’s such a book freak. Like every single days, I can see the pile of books on her desk, or in the library. To the point I’m sick looking at my own books.” One of Yunho’s friends talking.

First of all, it doesn’t matter if somebody else bad mouthing on you but it also came from him that making it worse.

Those friend slightly tapped Yunho’s upper arm, “She’s weird, right?”

Without hesitation he said, “Yeah she is-”

Enough is enough, you got up from the chair. You sure it was his voice, right on the opposite of the class wall to the corridor. You storming out of the class, hating to see your crush face. Then, you came back at noon only to mock his wobbly drawing on his sketchbook. Honestly you just want to take a revenge, but after you saw his badly drawn art, you can’t hold back your laugh. So that seems like you genuinely mocking after him.

Those newly information made Yunho speechless, which he’s still pinned down right now, under you. He averted his eyes from you that looking straight at him. “I never hate you okay, I even liked you.” You remarked.

He's still processing his thought, “I- I still can’t believed it”

Running your finger tips to his soft bear like cheeks, you cupped it and turned his head over so he looked back at you who’s alternately staring on both of his eyes to his reddish thin lips. “I’ll prove it, until you believed me.”

You pressed your lips to his all of sudden, made him flinched in surprise. Slowly but surely he kissed you back. The innocent kiss turn into a chaotic one as he hold the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue forced its way in, clashing on each other with yours. To the point you could hear the sound of both his and your front teeth bumped sometimes.

He sat up while continuing the kiss. His other hand busy tracing on your back, touched it by following your spine from the top to bottom. You slightly moved your chest forward in response, as his fingers tickling you, till the distance between both of you completely disappear.

You could feel his hard member poking through beneath his black jeans, while you grinding on his lap. He groaned between the kiss as you moving your hips back and forth faster than before. His digits slipped underneath the thin clothes you’re wearing, caressing your bare skin gently. A string of saliva formed after he decided to pull out from the kiss slowly, trying to stop before both of you coming undone anytime while fully clothed.

He lean on your slender shoulder, catching on his breath. On the other hand, you played with the tip from his nape hair while doing the same. Yunho and you stayed still for a while like that, till you realized there’s another pair of eyes watching you. When you turned your head to the front door, you saw your manager hanging speechless and slowly back away.

That lead you to slap your own forehead. Just forgot that you sent him text before, begging to be companied cause you didn’t want to deal with angry Yunho by yourself.

“No, it’s not like that manager-nim.” You wanted to stop him but Yunho still hugging you tight. “Please stay! Manager-nim, Kim Hongjoong!” Your plead is useless as his figure already disappear behind those door.

⁠✧

Today is Sunday morning, both of you went to a picnic date. Spreading out the mat with beautiful pattern on the grass field, you breathing in the fresh air. It’s located on the side of the lake. This was Yunho’s idea to bring you here, he said that giving it as a reward after spending full month of hell ride.

His design immediately approved by the editorial team without any problems by the end of last month. All thanks to your crazy revisions, he managed to survive walking out of the editorial room alive while people around including you said that they’re super annoying to begin with.

Now, Yunho busy painting on his sketchbook as his back lean to yours. Both of you sit back to back, enjoying the morning atmosphere. Chatting about a lot of topics here and there, while you’re flipping the page of your favorite book.

“I’m curious, how did you find me?” His skilled hand stained the colors from the tip of brush onto the paper surface.

“Hmm.. I don’t really know if it’s you behind the tyudongi artist tho.” You said that without taking your eyes off those collection of printed words.

He mixed another colors on the palette and back to questioned you, “I mean, why choose me out of another artists? I don’t have any experience on the big project like this.”

You stopped your activity then change the sitting position to face him. “Huh? I saw your works hanging in the local art exhibition few months back. Isn’t it also a big project?”

“Ah that thing, the artists doing it voluntarily without being paid. So there’s no pressure behind.” He explained to you clearly.

You nodded, “I see.. Uhm yeah, basically I was interested in your painting which the title is Forever, as I remember it.”

Yunho’s gaze shift to you as he realized something, “with the n or without the n?”

“Do you mean for never or forever?” You were dumbfounded by him. But he remained silent looking straight at you even though you are waiting for his answer. You sighed, “there’s no n between it, I’m pretty sure.”

He chuckled softly that you took his bait. “Then..” Putting his drawing tools aside, he grab your waist, pulling you into his arms. “There’s also no end between us.” He kissed your blushing cheek.

“Be my forever okay?”

a/n I had so much fun writing on this. and annoyed yunho looking hella hot, proof 1, proof 2, proof 3 (© tiktok edits)

#jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez fics #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #yunho hard hours #yunho hard thoughts #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #yunho birthday special #cy for ateez birthday #shocymer

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writingwithfolklore · 6 days

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How to Hold Yourself Accountable as a Professional Writer

Okay maybe you’re not self-employed or professional yet and writing definitely isn’t bringing in the big bucks, but you’d like it to some day, and you’re working right now on making that a reality. This post is for you, because the best time to practice getting into a healthy writing habit and holding yourself accountable to writing for that future where it’s your full time gig is now—before it’s essential to do so.

1. It will never be easy

It’s easy to think that maintaining a schedule or habit for writing would be easy if only it was your full-time gig and all you needed to do. While it might be easier than trying to cram in writing between classes or jobs, it will never be easy. You’re always going to have multiple things going on, there’s always going to be something you could be or need to be doing other than writing. Developing good habits right now, when it is really hard, is going to set you up far better than just waiting for it to get easy before you fully commit to it.

2. Set a schedule that actually works for you

I did a whole post on making a writing schedule you can actually manage and maintain here:

But the TL;DR is that in order to keep to a schedule, you have to make sure it’s attainable. Fit when you write around your other life schedule. For example, if you’re really not a morning person, planning on waking up at 5am every morning to write for a couple hours is probably not something you’ll be able to maintain. But setting aside an hour before bed may be more manageable for you.

3. Form a habit

To train your brain to make your writing schedule a habit you’ll actually stick to, you should make it into a routine. Similar to how you have a bedtime routine that sets you up to feel sleepy at night, a routine that sets you up for writing will make it harder to turn away from your manuscript, and help inspire a productive writing block.

You can create a writing playlist with songs that inspire your project you listen to whenever you begin writing, make a tea or other drink to sip on while you write, grab a snack, share your schedule with a writing buddy and write together, put together a document of inspiring quotes, photos, or other muses you can read, or really anything that gets you into the writing mood. By following this routine every time you set up to write, you’ll train your brain to get into a mindset that will make it easier to stick to your writing block.

4. Reward yourself

Brains love doing things for a reward. Maybe after a productive writing block you can spend some time doing something else you love, like watching an episode of your favourite show, lighting a candle, taking a bath, or having a glass of wine, I don’t know, anything that would give your brain the happy juice in response to your good work.

5. Set deadlines and goals

Writing consistently is basically the majority of the battle. I don’t typically worry about word count, but I do know that it can be helpful for others to set wordcount goals and deadlines to ensure productivity. If that sounds like you, make sure your goals are actionable while also being attainable. “Finish novel” isn’t a great goal, but “write 2000 words per week for three months” could be helpful if you know that 2000 words is attainable for you.

Same as before, you can also set rewards for when you reach your goals. I have a big tattoo upcoming if I complete my goal for the year.

The last tip I have for this point is to try to find an accountabili-buddy to hold you to your goals and deadlines if you think that would be helpful for you. As a professional writer, you may be held accountable by an editor or agent, so practicing through asking a buddy to help you set deadlines and deliverables will help prepare you for writing towards a date.

The TL;DR is find out what works for you and practice doing it consistently! Anything else I missed?

#writing #creative writing #writers #writing community #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #How to Hold Yourself Accountable as a Professional Writer #professional writing #full time writer #accountability

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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Shhh, Baby, Daddy's on The Phone

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Rockstar AU, Domestic AU, Smut, Fluff

Summary: Your husband, Eren Jaeger, comes home from his band’s tour to the sight of you moaning his name on your bed with a vibrator buried deep inside you. Burned by the desire to ravish you right then, Eren decides to have his way with you, not caring if he’s in the middle of a phone interview with a music journalist.

Warnings: rough and unprotected penetrative sex, having sex while on the phone, reader masturbating while Eren watches, blindfold, daddy kink, cunnilingus, blow job, hand job, having sex while being recorded, squirting, spit kink, overstimulation, cum play, creampie, choking, degradation, spanking (with hands and belt), slapping, dirty talk, heavy swearing

Word Count: 9K

🎉 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 7000 FOLLOWERS! 🎉 Here's your gift, darlings ❤️❤️❤️

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart

A day. If you had waited for just one more day, you wouldn’t have gotten caught masturbating on the same bed you shared with the man you had loved—and loved you—for seventeen years. But you were lonely, weren’t you? You were impatient. You hadn’t seen your husband, Eren Jaeger—the frontman of the notorious rock band called Empire—for almost a month. You hadn’t touched him, made love to him, tasted the sweet taste of his lips and the exotic rosewood of his perfume on his sun-kissed skin and it became unbearable with each second passing by.

Phone calls weren’t enough. Watching his lips form the line, “I miss you,” and “I love you” through FaceTime wasn’t as satisfying as having them whispered directly into your ear with his smirk grazing against your shell. His words didn’t light your body on fire, not in the way they did on that night before his departure when you spent endless hours gasping his name and hearing him call yours between a string of expletives and filthy words. You missed him. You wanted him. Which was why the second your parents took your two children into their home to have a sleepover party with their cousins, leaving you all alone in the lovely suburban house you had shared with your husband and kids for three years, you decided to… look for some relief.

You didn’t plan on it, of course. Your plan was to finish all your chores to make sure the house was spotless by the time your husband arrived home the next day. But you managed to finish everything before sundown, leaving you wandering along the house, not knowing what else to do. Once you had cleaned yourself in the shower, you were dressed in your silky nightgown, climbing to the middle of the bed with your favorite novel in one hand.

You only managed to read a chapter when your thoughts flew back to your husband. You checked on your phone. The last text you had gotten from him was this morning, telling you not to forget to eat your breakfast as you tend to skip it. Eren was always attentive like that, sometimes acting more like a wife than you were. The rest of your texts hadn’t been read. Maybe he’s busy? You wondered. He had been dealing with endless interviews, photoshoots, and live performances to promote Empire’s new album after all. It often took him a few hours before he could get back to your calls and messages. He was only in a different town, not overseas, but it felt like he was a thousand miles away from you.

Sighing, you closed your book, unable to concentrate on your reading any longer. You searched for your phone, your thumb sliding across the screen, going through your gallery. There was a video—a sex video—that you once took with Eren during your friends-with-benefits days. That one Sunday morning when the two of you engaged in debauchery while he was still drunk and half-asleep. With your cheeks warming up at the memory, you tapped your finger on the screen and the video played.

“Bounce back,” Eren said, his husky voice sounding a bit deeper, heavy with sleep but also laced with urgency. “Bounce back on my fucking dick, baby, come on.”

You lost count on how many times you had seen this video when he was away. You convinced yourself that it was just a way to cope with the longing, but you couldn’t deny the way your body squirmed, aching to redo everything you did in that video.

“Harder,” Eren commanded, followed by the sound of his palm meeting your ass cheek. “Fucking take that cock like you own it.”

The video was so pornographic, so raw, and passionate. Eren was a feral beast in bed while you were reduced to nothing more but a whimpering mess. He wasn’t being himself that day, too intoxicated to register the things he did and said to you.

“Wanna make you my bitch,” he rasped. “Wanna make you my cumslut.”

That man in the video almost didn’t feel like him. Eren—the version of Eren that you fell in love with—had always showered you with praises at any time he could. He didn’t do it just to flatter you. He did it because each compliment he gave you was a form of his honesty. He respected you, cared about you, loved you more than the earth loved the sun. That morning was the only time he ever treated you like a whore he rented for the night, and he felt so guilty for treating you that way but you loved it. It was a nice change. He felt dangerous, uncontrolled and it was so exhilarating that a mere thought of it sent your blood boiling.

You squeezed your thighs, heat pooling in your center. You were so aroused at the little grunts and groans your husband was emitting in the video, so titillated at the sight of him taking you from behind and fucking you against the headboard. He had his head thrown back, his lips parted in a breathy moan, “Fuck, so good. You’re so fucking good, baby girl.”

Your eyes, just like many nights before, drifted back to the top drawer of your dresser where you kept your rabbit vibrator hidden safely in a box. It was the one that your best friend Pieck gave you on your birthday; the same one that your husband used plenty of times before, not because he was incapable of satisfying you. Eren was beyond fantastic when it came to handling things in bed but there was something hot, he said, about watching you clench yourself around the toy before he fucked you senselessly. He did it so you’d know just how good his cock was compared to it. And it fed his ego so well when he found you squirting on his cock just after a few thrusts. “Fucked you so good, didn’t I, baby?” He would ask with a smirk, not giving you a chance to breathe until he reached his own high.

Fuck, okay. You couldn’t hold back the temptation, not when the images of your husband pushing your legs high up in the air as he rammed his hips against yours resurfaced in your head. Taking the sex toy out of the box, you returned to the bed.

You took a glance at the clock. It was only seven pm, still so early to be doing something as sinful as this but you couldn’t help it. Your bedroom door was still open but you didn’t care. You were the only person in the house anyway, and the front door was locked. The only one who carried the spare key was your husband and his flight back home wouldn’t be until tomorrow evening.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your nightgown until the fabric pooled around your stomach, your thin spaghetti strap falling off your shoulder as you slid your panties off your legs. You propped a pillow behind your back for comfort, keeping your thighs open wide. You rewound the video, playing it from the beginning. You didn’t have to watch it, as you already memorized the scene from replaying it so many times. You just needed to shut your eyes and your memory would display everything behind your closed lids like a movie projector.

Holding your vibrator in one hand, already covered with lube, you tucked the end of your dress between your teeth so you could watch yourself sliding the toy inside your entrance. The internal stimulator was able to penetrate you deeply enough to reach your G-spot, and as you switched it on, waves of pleasure coursed through your veins almost right after. Even so, it could never satisfy you the way Eren’s cock did. Your husband was the only one who could stretch you perfectly in the way you liked it.

The smaller arm of the vibrator, flexible enough to bend and move as needed, stimulated your clitoris at the same time you thrust its long shaft inside you. You clicked on the buttons, increasing the intensity, exploring many kinds of vibration modes until you found the right one. You focused on Eren’s moans, the way he was calling your name, the way he snarled out, “No one can fuck you like this but me, you got that?”

You remembered him again, remembered the way your husband held you, the way he kissed and plundered your mouth with his tongue, the way his fingers would curl tightly around your throat to make you choke out his name. You chewed on your bottom lip, pinpointing the vibrations right where you wanted them. You started pumping them fast, remembering the way he slid his cock in and out of you, matching his pace. It might not be as gratifying, but you could feel your thighs quivering in pleasure.

“Ah,” you moaned, your muscles tensing at your impending orgasm. You were so close. “Eren…”

“Yes, baby?”

Your eyes jolted open in shock, your body freezing at the sight of your husband leaning one shoulder so casually against the doorframe, watching you with a pair of naughty eyes. He was dressed impeccably handsome in formal attire, must be because he just returned from another press conference. His tailored black suit highlighted his broad shoulders perfectly, its color a stark contrast to how bright his viridian eyes were. Eren had both hands stuck inside the pocket of his trousers, a suggestive smirk written on his lips. The matching black tie he wore was hanging loosely around his neck, his crisp white button-down shirt still tucked neatly inside his pants but he had his top buttons unfastened. He was still wearing his Oxford shoes, his expensive coal-black Tag Heuer watch reflecting the dim, golden light of your bedroom.

His hair, as always, was tied up to the back of his skull, designed by a pair of expert hands to make it look stylishly messy. Eren was breathtaking. Even before he was a celebrity, he was already gorgeous. As a college boy, he was boyish and mischievous. Right now, he looked so mature, reeked of charm and sensuality. But as he watched you with his emerald eyes coated by desire, he only seemed devilish to you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he crooned, his voice light and airy. “Didn’t think my wife would be so…” His gaze traversed down your body until it stopped right at your center, watching your hole clenching around your vibrator. His tongue peeked out to wet his lip before he returned your gaze to yours. “Occupied.”

You scrambled back, pulling the toy out of you in an instant before you closed your legs in shame. “Eren!” you squeaked out in horror, blood rushing to your face so fast that it left you feeling lightheaded. “Why are you—I thought you were flying back tomorrow!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” your husband chuckled, making his way to your spot while dragging his suitcase behind him. “When you said the kids were staying at your mother’s house for the night, I just couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone.” He stopped near the end of your bed. “I figured my wife would be lonely with me being gone.” He kept his hands inside his pockets as he loomed tall, his knees a few inches away from grazing against the footboard rail. He looked down on you. His gaze was intense. The previous mirth that graced his lips had vanished without a trace. “Seems like I was right.”

You found him glancing at the phone beside you. Your sex video was still playing, the sound of your moans filling the room. You panicked, utterly flustered. “I—this isn’t—”

“Open up.”

“W-what?”

“Your legs.” His voice was an octave lower. “Let me see that dripping cunt.”

You swallowed your breath. You didn’t think the first lines that fled out of your husband’s mouth after weeks of separation would be so obscene. Eren could be the gentlest man in bed if he wanted to, spooning you as he whispered sweet nothings in your ears, your body rocking together as you listened to the pit patter of the rain knocking against your windows. But he knew how much you loved it when he was being rough and dominating, craving for a little pain between waves of pleasure. This, right here, was him giving you a glimpse of what he was planning to do to you in a matter of minutes.

The mischief in his eyes was quickly replaced by impatience when you didn’t comply with his words right away. “I said, open.” He lifted his chin, his gaze condescending. The superiority in his gaze left you weak. “Or do you want to be punished?”

You shuddered. The coils inside your stomach tautened at his words. Eren remembered. He remembered when you told him you wanted to try something new in bed. Something filthier, something more thrilling, just like the way he behaved in the sex video you shared with him. You wanted him to do the opposite of what he usually did. You didn’t want him to be gentle. You didn’t want him to be respectful. There’s a time to make love and there’s a time to fuck like animals. Right now, with this amount of yearning burning inside you—a craving so intense that you couldn’t even wait for one more day to be stuffed with your husband’s cock and instead resorted to a silicone stick—Eren could tell it was the latter that you wanted.

You had spoken about this once on the night before he left the town—how you wanted him to be more merciless in bed—but it was weeks ago. You didn’t think he would remember it. But that’s where you were wrong. Eren didn’t just remember it. He wanted to do it. If this was a way to please you, he would do anything to fulfill even your filthiest dream. He had been thinking about it so much during your days of separation, that sometimes he lost track of conversation during his interview. And now that he was finally home, he was planning to give you just that.

You used to be diffident in bed, especially since you knew how experienced Eren was when it came to sex. But after spending years together, with him constantly praising every curve of your body, your confidence was built. But not tonight. After spending weeks not standing on the receiving end of that lustful stare, you were back to being the timid girl that you were like on the first day he laid his hands on you.

Slowly, you parted your legs, giving a glimpse of your folds, soaked and glistening with your juice.

“Wider,” he demanded and you fisted the sheets beneath you. You were moving too slow for his liking. Eren reached out a hand, clasping his fingers around your ankle, and yanked you forward until you found your body sliding down the bed. You yelped in surprise, your legs were dangling over the edge when he placed both hands on your thighs, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises. He forced you to spread your legs as much as you can, exposing your twitching hole to his hungry eyes.

“Ren—”

“Look at you,” he simpered, one hand pinning your thigh to the bed while the other one slid up your leg, his fingertips ghosting over your pussy’s lips. “You’re drenched, Sweetheart.” Eren plunged two fingers inside his mouth, coated them with saliva, and brought them back down to glide between your folds. He pushed two digits inside without warning, crooking them up and making your entire body jolt in sensation. He tittered, retracting his fingers only to push them back inside his mouth, his tongue swirling to get a sliver of your taste. He kept his eyes on you as he let out a little mmm around his fingers. He slid them out, his smirk was salacious. “I’ve missed you, baby girl.”

You were on the verge of vocalizing his name when he grabbed the front of your gown, forcing you to sit on the bed before he clasped his fingers around your throat. You were being lifted to your knees, groaning into his mouth as he burned you with his kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, moving in a maddening dance against yours that left you squirming. His grip around your neck was tight, suffocating you with his hand and his kiss at the same time.

When he released you, his face hovered above yours, letting you taste the scent of peppermint in his breath. “You should be glad that you’re smart enough to fuck yourself at the sounds of me fucking this little cunt,” he emphasized by plunging his fingers harshly between your folds. “If I had caught you watching someone else’s video, you know I wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“I-I wouldn’t—” He tightened his grip, ending your sentence abruptly in a choke.

“Speak only when I tell you to,” he growled. “You’re my fucking bitch for the night. Behave.”

Thrill suffused your body like a shot of adrenaline. You melted in his hold, your lips parted in a strangled whimper.

Eren kissed you once, softly, languidly, but when he dragged his lips to your ear, his voice was perilous. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“P-please,” you answered, begging at his mercy.

He purred, his smirk was pressing against the skin below your earlobe. “Where do you want me?”

You swallowed thickly. “I want you inside me, Daddy.”

He chuckled, pleased at the title you gave him. Removing his hand from your throat, he squeezed your jaws until you felt his nails digging into your skin. His lips were only a breath away when he whispered, “Pathetic little slut.”

He ripped your thin nightgown with both hands, shredding everything in one try. He tossed you back to the bed so carelessly that your nude body bounced once before you settled on the sheets. He removed his blazer, his gaze never left yours, only getting heavier by the second. The white shirt he was wearing was plastered to his sculpted chest. Eren was still as sturdy as he was five years ago, his muscles were drawn by the angels themselves. “Go on,” he said as he rolled each of his sleeves up to his elbow. “Put that toy back inside. You didn’t get to finish before, did you?”

You wanted him to touch you so badly that you wanted to go on your knees and beg him for it. Even without using your words, Eren could see it. “Let me know when you’re about to cum.” For once, he let his heavenly smile return. “I want you to squirt on my face.”

Your breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy.” You reached for your vibrator again, feeling your heart beating so fast at the way your husband was watching you closely. When you were about to push it inside, he stopped you.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit dry?” One corner of his mouth was raised higher than the other, gazing down at you so pompously. “You should do something about it, Sweetheart. Don’t want my little whore to hurt herself. That’s my job.”

You knew he wasn’t referring to the bottle of lube on your nightstand. He wanted you to give him a show. Breathing heavily, you pushed the vibrator inside your mouth. You could taste yourself on the silicone, feeling absolutely humiliated that you had to suck a plastic cock in front of your husband with your legs spread open. Eren leaned forward, landing a palm on the sheets as he drew the sex toy away from your hand. “Here, let me help you.” He jammed it back in, choking you and fucking your mouth with the toy until you felt tears brimming in your eyes. You gagged in reflex, your fingers clutching around his wrist to stop him. “Don’t choke. Hold it in,” he chuckled, easily dismissing your feeble attempt. “You can do it, baby. You know mine is twice as big.” He repeated his actions several times. By the time he pulled it away, you were coughing.

“Think of it as a warm-up,” he said as he pushed the vibrator inside you up to the hilt, not caring if your body was still tense to have a foreign object slide past your ring. “Before I wreck you apart with my cock later.”

He switched on the button, eyes gleaming in amusement at the way you were squirming at the sensation. “Keep your voice down.” He clamped his mouth around your nipple as he pumped it fast inside you. “I’m not gonna let you cry over a fucking toy.”

Despite his warning, you couldn’t hold back your whimper. The sensation was too much. He was pushing it too deep, too hard, too fast, sucking and biting on your sensitive bud all the while. “Ah! Ren—mmph!” He slapped a palm over your mouth, removing his mouth from your chest to hover his face above yours.

“Too much, baby?” He asked almost melodiously. “Here, let me tone it down.”

Eren clicked on the buttons, putting the level of intensity to the maximum. You jerked forward, arching your back, your legs shaking from the vigorous vibration that ran up your skin. He took in your features, enjoying every bit of your expression as you turned into a sobbing mess. “Tell me when you’re about to cum,” he reminded you, his wrist moving back and forth. “Wanna drink all that fucking juice, baby.” He dipped his head in the crook of your neck, his fangs teasing your supple skin. “Come on, give it to me. Give it to Daddy.”

His words worked like magic and with a few more thrusts, you clutched your fingers on his shoulders, fisting his shirt. “I’m—I’m about to cum—”

Eren slid out the toy and flung it away without a care. Before you could whimper at the loss, he hooked his arms around your thighs and dove between your legs. He darted out his tongue, eating you out in the way that left you gasping and tugging on his hair. “Fuck, Daddy—” The word slipped out your mouth as your legs closed around his head.

Eren growled, pinning your thighs back to the sheets as he lapped up and down your folds. You could feel the tip of his nose grazing against your clitoris every time and when you mewled, he finally closed his lips around it, sucking hard on the nub. That was the final push you needed to reach your ecstasy. You were squirting on his face, a sprinkle of your juice stained his cheeks before Eren took the rest inside his mouth. “Finally,” he breathed out, panting as he continuously lapped at your cunt like a starving man. “Been waiting for weeks to taste you again, baby. Mmm,” he moaned, his tongue dipping inside your entrance to clean every last drop. “So fucking sweet, I want to eat you up all night.”

You were dizzy, breathless, and spent but Eren was far from done. He unfastened his tie with one hand, letting it hang loose on his collar. “On your knees,” he commanded but you were too weak to comply right away. “What, you’re tired?”

He permitted you to speak. “Give…” You swallowed, your throat felt parched. “Give me five minutes… M-my legs are shaking—”

Eren bent himself down, grabbing you by your jaws again. “I don’t care if your legs are shaking,” he said through gritted teeth with barely an inch of space between your faces. “I’m not finished.”

He brought you up, forcing you to sit on your heels as he stood on his knees before you. “Look at me.” You tilted up your chin at his command, hooded eyes meeting his lustful ones. A proud smirk painted his face as he observed your features. “Such a pretty little bitch,” he simpered, his lean fingers stroking your cheek. “Whimpering like one too.” Eren shoved his thumb inside your mouth as his other fingers were glued against the underside of your jaw. He forces your mouth open, pressing his pad against your papillae. “I’m gonna fill you up tonight, baby girl. In every way possible.”

You closed your lips around his thumb before you sucked on it, treating it like his cock. His eyes glazed with desire when he pulled his hand and slapped you across the face.

Fuck, it burns, you thought, as the stinging pain his palm left on your skin spread across your cheek. But this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You had asked him—no, challenged him to do this. “I don’t think you’ll ever have the heart to slap me,” you remembered the words you’d once said to him. “You can be rough in bed, sure, but you’re always so… vanilla. I want you to treat me like you did to me that morning, Ren. Calling me your cumslut, treating me like one. It was exciting. I think it would be a nice change if we—”

“You seem distracted.” Eren slapped you again, ending your thoughts short. It wasn’t hard enough to leave his handprint on your skin, but the pain was searing nonetheless. “Don’t you want this, baby?” His fingers returned to grasp your throat, lifting you up. “Don’t you want me to treat you like a fucking whore?”

“Y-yes,” you choked out. His grip was so tight that your nerves were screaming in agony. “Yes, Daddy.”

“And what do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Good. Now, show me.” He unwound his hair tie, letting his silky smooth chestnut hair cascade down to his shoulder. He reached behind you, using the elastic band to tie up your strands in a messy ponytail. “I want to see how grateful you are.”

You nodded. Your fingers, albeit a bit shaky, toyed with the button of his slacks, tugging down his zipper. You lowered his trousers just enough to free him out of his briefs, taking his cock with both hands and stroking it to life. You started by kissing him on his tip, letting him know the softness of your lips before your tongue came to play.

“Eyes over here,” Eren reminded you, and you looked up from underneath your eyelashes. The sight of you acting so docile sent his blood running south. “Dart out your tongue.” You obeyed, giving him small licks on his slit as you used one hand to pump his dick. He snorted, immensely pleased at how submissive you were. “Naughty kitten. Gonna milk my cock dry after this?”

You dragged your lips to the side, tracing the veins on his shaft with your tongue. “Yes, Daddy.”

“If you waste a drop, I’m gonna punish you.”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. Now open up. I’m gonna fuck your face.” When you weren’t moving fast enough, Eren pulled your head back by your ponytail. Your mouth slightly opened in a gasp and he used the chance to slap his cock against your lips. “Wider.” You complied. Eren didn’t waste a second. He drove his length entirely inside your cavern in one try, hitting the back of your throat. Your lids closed in reflex, your mewls muffled by his skin. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.” Your red, glistening eyes shot open to meet him as you struggled to breathe. His disparaging smile made him look wicked. “You look the best when you have my dick in your mouth, Sweetheart. Come on, take me deeper.”

He closed whatever space that was left, keeping your nose pressed against his pelvis, and blocking your airways for about three seconds before he released you. You coughed, gasping for air, choking on your own spit. A little longer than that and you would’ve gagged.

“You remember our safe word, baby?” He held you by the chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he spoke. You nodded, tasting the saltiness of the tears that glid down to your lips. “Good. I want you to keep that in mind. I won’t slow down. You want me to be rough on you and I’m here to give it to you. I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. You have my words on that, but…” he paused, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. He broke the tension for a moment. His touch was gentle, reminding you that it was still your husband underneath this vicious persona. That this was just a performance—a role that you asked him to play. There was a genuine worry in his voice when he said, “If it gets too much, say the word and I’ll stop immediately.”

“I’m okay,” you promised him with a smile. Eren was terrifying before, but that was part of the game, part of the excitement. You kissed the hand that caressed your face, your lips brushing against his palm. “I’m all right, Ren. You can do whatever you want with me. I’m enjoying this,” you purred, leaning into his touch like how a small kitten would. “Truly.”

He hesitated for only a couple of seconds before his smirk returned. And that was it. He wouldn’t ask for it again. You wanted him to drive you to your limit? So be it.

His palm smacked against your cheek, throwing your face to the side. “Then get back to work.”

Still a bit dazed, you tried your best to please him with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks around him and pulling away with an obscene pop. Eren was about to thrust inside your mouth when suddenly his phone rang. The ringtone echoed from the inside chest pocket of his blazer, growing persistently with every second passing by. He reached over to his side with a sigh, snatching his phone. The name Levi Ackerman was written on his screen.

Your husband clicked his tongue in vexation. He knew for certain that his strict, foul-mouthed manager would constantly call him until he picked it up. Your curiosity almost turned into words but you stopped yourself at the last second, not wanting to upset him by talking without permission. You stroked his length with your hand, hoping he’d notice the question in your eyes. Who is it?

Your nervous look granted him an idea. Wanting to tease you a little bit further, he pushed your head down to take his cock back inside your mouth. He slid his thumb across the screen, answering the call. “Hey, Levi,” he addressed, pressing his phone against his ear.

You pulled away with a gasp, perplexed at the way your husband so casually greeted his manager—who was also a friend of yours—over the phone. “Ere—” The second you parted your lips, he used the opportunity to ram his cock back inside.

“Shhh, baby, I’m on the phone,” he said, his lopsided grin almost as lewd as the way he rocked his hips. He was enjoying it, loving the way you could do nothing but loosen your jaw and let him fuck your mouth until he was satisfied. He returned to his phone, putting it on speaker so you could listen to the conversation. “What’s up?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Levi’s voice rang from the other line, sounding as formal and cold as ever.

“No, it’s okay. I was talking to Jace.” Eren pushed your hair back, gripping tightly onto your bangs as he picked up his pace, reaching a little deeper with every thrust. “We’re just…” He let out a breath. He could feel how fucking warm and wet your mouth was. A little bit of mirth stood evidently in his voice when he continued, “Playing a little game.” Your husband reached back to seize your ponytail, tugging tightly on your strands. “Watch your teeth,” he uttered sotto voce, his stare degrading.

“I swear to fucking God, Jaeger, if you’re fucking your wife right now, I’m gonna chop off your tiny fucking dick.”

“I swear, I’m not.” Well, not exactly in the way you’re thinking anyway, he sneered inwardly. “Also, leave my dick alone. I’ve got a wife to please. I don’t wanna make her cry, you know.” He hit the back of your throat, continuously shoving your head down, and maintained that position until you felt suffocated. “Though she does look pretty when she cries.” He knew how harsh he was being, judging by the tears that coated your eyes but he didn’t plan on stopping. He moved his phone away, whispering, “Take it,” as he kept one hand behind your skull, his hips rutting against your mouth. “Take my fucking dick. Ah, fuck, yeah, just like that—you fucking whore—”

“Jaeger!”

Drowning deep in pleasure, he could faintly hear Levi calling his name. He returned to his phone. “Sorry,” he answered breathlessly. “What were you saying?”

“What the fuck are you doing? If you get distracted one more time, I’m gonna—”

“Jesus Christ, enough with the threat already. What’s up?”

The older man sighed, too weary to put on a fight. “I’m calling to let you know that we have someone from Kerrang Magazine looking for you.” Judging from his tone, impatient but not yet aggravated, he was oblivious to what was happening.

Eren released you, thick strings of saliva dribbled down your chin as you gasped frantically for air. He slapped his palm over your mouth before you could cough, reminding you to be silent. “Yeah? Another interview?” He angled your face upward, wanting the light to shine on you so he could witness every detail. You had tears streaming down your face, your lips bruised and glistening with your spit. Eren bent his head down, and for a second, his angelic smile fooled you. Thinking that he was aiming for a kiss, your body jerked when he spat onto your mouth. He giggled, couldn’t help but find this situation amusing. “Okay. When?”

“Now. She wants to interview you over the phone.”

“Now?” His grin grows wider when he sees you shaking your head, your eyes widening in protest. “Yeah, I’ve got some time to kill. I don’t have anything planned.” He framed your jaws, biting his lip at the thought of painting your face with his cum. “Yet.”

“All right. I’ll give her your number then.”

“Tell her to contact me right away.” He observed the way you ran your tongue all over his fingers, coating his digits with your saliva from his tips to his knuckles. “I’m a bit tired. I don’t want to fall asleep while waiting for her call.” Eren inserted his fingers into his mouth, watching you with a pair of mischievous eyes as he rolled his tongue around them, savoring the taste of your saliva mixed with his earlier pre-cum.

“Fine. You better watch your words, Jaeger. Stick to the script I gave you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ending the call, Eren flung his phone to the bed. “Bend over.” You were being tossed like a rag doll before you could react, your breath knocked out of your lungs as you fell onto the sheets.

“Eren—”

“Shut the fuck up and let me fuck that cunt,” he snarled, spinning you around until you were on all fours. Yanking his tie away from his collar, he wrapped it around your head, the black silk blinding your vision. Eren leaned forward, the material of his shirt grazing your backside as he snickered right beside your ear. “Our sex tape is a little bit outdated, don’t you think? Why don’t we make another one? Maybe this time we can upload it online. Let everyone see how good you are at taking my cock.”

A whimper barely broke free when he shoved your head against the pillow, robbing your ability to speak. He gathered your phone, switched on your camera, and positioned it on the little space on your headboard. The video started recording, filming you from the front. On the screen, Eren could see himself taking off his belt. Both of your bodies were exposed. Your husband was still dressed perfectly in everything but his blazer, while you only had his tie to conceal your eyes.

Smirking in satisfaction, he folded his belt and slapped your ass cheek with it. You flinched, whimpering in both thrill and pain. “You know what I’m so pissed about right now?” He spanked you again, not letting you answer him with words. “It’s the fact that you’re such a fucking whore, you couldn’t even wait for a day for me to come home. What, that fucking hole of yours is so loose now that you had to stuff yourself with a dildo to keep you satisfied? What would happen if I left for a month, huh?” Another slap, this time harder than before that a bruise bloomed instantly on your skin. “What are you going to do when your little toy can no longer please you? You’re gonna look for another dick, baby? Gonna fuck a guy and beg him to fill up your cunt, is that what you’re planning to do?” When the leather met your skin again, your arms quivered under your weight. “Answer me.”

“No!” You cried out. “No, I will never—I will never do that—o-only you, Ren!”

“That’s right, baby.” He chuckled, rewarding you with one last slap before he cast his belt to the side. “You belong to me.”

His cock, still wet and lubricated with your saliva, was held firmly in one hand. He settled it against the crease of your ass, gliding it back and forth. “I haven’t fucked you here in a while.” He probed his tip against your rim. “But it would take time for me to loosen you up and I don’t think I’m up for that. Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck your ass later after I’m done with your cunt.”

You gulped at the thought, your fear and excitement were wrapped into one dizzying emotion, but once his phone rang again, it turned to nothing but panic.

“Oh no, they’re calling me so soon,” Eren sniggered. “What should I do?” His question was rhetorical, answering the call without a trace of shame or remorse in his voice. “Hello?” He spoke, pressing his phone against his ear while he maintained his other hand on your hip. “Yes, that’s me. Oh, yeah, from Kerrang Magazine, right? Hi, Hannah, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you felt your husband nudging the head of his cock against your entrance. “Ere—mmph!” You were being shoved down again, your face buried deep inside your pillow.

“No, you’re not calling at a bad time.” Eren’s voice was exceptionally friendly and enthusiastic, putting on his best behavior. “I was just chatting with my wife. You know, enjoying her—” Eren, without warning, pushed himself inside, nipping on his lip to refrain himself from giggling, “—company.”

You could only whine, biting at the end of your pillow. Even after having that vibrator inside you, you could still feel how he was stretching you out so nicely. Losing your vision somehow heightened your senses, making you feel ten times more sensitive than you already were. Being recorded in this position was already a thrilling thought, but conversing with a stranger during your sexual intercourse? It felt like you were tiptoeing your way on the edge of a cliff.

“Yes, we’re planning to go on a tour during summer,” he let out a breath, almost groaning at the way your warmth was enveloping him at once. He had missed it. God, he’d missed how warm you were. How wet and needy your pussy felt around him. “So far, we’ve got fifty-one cities confirmed.” Your husband kept one hand pressed against a spot between your shoulder blades, pinning your upper body flat against the sheets while he kept your ass raised high in the air.

“Oh, you do?” He chuckled, feigning bashfulness. “I think you’re just being too kind, Hannah, but thank you.” His voice reeked with innocence but the rest of him was anything but. He yanked you back up by your hair, holding you only by your ponytail as he fucked you senseless. A sudden forceful thrust almost sent you knocking your head against the board and you whined.

“Hmm, it’s hard for me to say,” he continued, smacking his palm against your ass to remind you to stay mute. “Sometimes the music itself will lead me in and draw out a kind of weird emotion from me,” he answered yet another question, seemingly unbothered with the way he had his cock sliding in and out of your hole. There was a slight change in his expression when he felt your walls squeezing around him, your thighs quivering as he rubbed a spot inside you just right, but his voice remained steady. “Some of it does end up being autobiographical.” He brought you to your knees, his chest completing the dip of your spine as he grind his hips. His fingers were back inside your mouth to silence the noises, but whenever a whimper sounded a little bit too loud, you could feel him smirking against your ear. He loved it. Deep down, he wanted to get caught. “Yeah, exactly. It’s in those situations where I tend to actually go a bit more autobiographical with the lyrics.” Wanting to switch positions, Eren pulled himself out and rolled you over to your back. “Singing about love or relationships and things like that.”

He spread open your legs, settling himself between your thighs and sliding back in so easily even without using his hand. You had your fingers clawing against the sheets, your mouth covered by the back of your palm as you tried to keep quiet. Your face was decorated prettily with his tie. To Eren, you were the prettiest little slut he’d ever seen in his life. “You mean, my wife?” He chortled lightly into the phone, desirous eyes watching the trail of saliva that rubbed off to your cheek. “Yes, she’s been my inspiration since I was young.”

You couldn’t see what was happening before you, but you could feel it when his lips ghosted over yours. He landed one hand on the sheets, right next to your head. You vaguely could hear a female voice resonating from his phone from the proximity you were in but you couldn’t make out the words. As she spoke, elaborating further on her question, Eren kissed you, softly but deeply, his hips coming to a halt for a moment. He occasionally muttered a small, “Mm-hmm,” between kisses, not giving a fuck over her words.

“No, you’re not wrong,” he said, his thumb and index finger trapping your chin and pulling it down until you had your lips parted. “You could say on some levels some of the fans will know elements of my persona or subconscious better than I do.” As the interviewer elaborated further on his answer, Eren pushed away his phone, whispering, “Stick that tongue out. I wanna see that fucking tongue, open up.” Eren let his saliva pool inside his mouth before he darted his tongue and let it dribble down onto yours. “Swallow.” His eyes glazed with lust as he watched you take it in. He stuck his thumb inside your mouth, tugging down your lower jaw to make sure you had swallowed it all. “Good girl.” He smirked in satisfaction, his face dangling close above yours. “Now, say it with me.” He gestured to you to imitate his words. “Good girl,” he said at the same time you pronounced the words, giggling before he returned to his phone.

“That’s correct, Hannah. But in terms of my personal life, there's not many that know who I really am,” he stated, taking off your blindfold and grinning at you when your gaze met. His eyes were as dark as the night, wild as a starving wolf. “How would I describe myself as a person?” His little laugh gave such a gentle, amiable vibe but the way he was strangling you with his fingers was the exact opposite. Your husband tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder. “I don’t know.” He had one hand choking you while he slapped your breast with his other one. He started moving again, his hips swaying obscenely. “A devil, maybe?”

He was. He truly was a devil in disguise. Fear started to crawl on your skin when you felt your lungs starting to burn. The sensation of him fucking you fast and rough with pain scorching your senses drove you to the brink. Right before your pleasure could rip through you, Eren stopped everything at once. He was edging you, torturing you, sending enough amount of frustration that made you glare at him.

“Hannah, sorry, can you give me a sec?” He dragged his phone away for a moment, making sure the interviewer wouldn’t pick up his conversation.

“Eren—”

He slapped you across the face, hard and fast. “You better show me some respect,” he uttered disdainfully. “Look at me with those eyes again and I wouldn’t be so kind.”

You gulped, your body left frozen under his smothering gaze. “Y-yes, Daddy.”

Taking your breast in one hand, he squeezed it tightly until you flinched. “You can only cum when I allow you to. You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He caressed your cheek, soothing the reddened skin even when his eyes still gleamed dangerously. “Good.” Returning to his phone, he dropped the superiority in his voice, reusing his affable tone once more. “Sorry about that. What were you asking me again?”

But he wasn’t making it any easier for you, was it? In fact, Eren was trying his best to make you cum, rubbing your clit on purpose with his thumb as he thrust his dick inside. You couldn’t stop a wanton cry from breaking free, clasping a palm over your mouth a second too late.

Eren was pleased. “What? You heard something weird?” He spoke to the phone, acting nonchalant. “Oh, my daughter is watching TV, maybe that’s why.” He pitched his voice louder, pretending. “Irene, baby, keep it down, okay?” He rammed himself deep. “Daddy’s on the phone right now. I can’t concentrate if you—” he added three more thrusts, pushing you up further against the headboard that you had to reach back and place your arm on the surface to stop your head from knocking against it, “—keep making noises,” he finished with a haughty smirk.

The interview went on for a whole twenty minutes and you were being edged continuously without mercy. You were so close to lashing out when Eren gave a polite chuckle. “No, thank you for interviewing me today. It was really nice talking to you, Hannah. Yeah, take care. Bye.” Eren ended the call, throwing his phone over his shoulder. His pretty crooked teeth peeked behind a devilish grin as he giggled at your expression. “Now, where were we?” He removed his white shirt, giving you a nice view of his abs but he didn't let you marvel at his beauty for too long.

He lifted both of your legs high in the air, pushing them forward until you had your body folded in half. He wasn’t planning to waste any second longer. Both of you had been playing a dangerous, torturous game for half an hour and it drove him feral.

Eren was so deep, deeper than before, deeper than ever, rubbing against your insides in a way that left you wailing. “That’s right, scream for me, baby. Scream for Daddy,” he simpered, sounding breathless and hoarse. “You’re still taking your pills?”

Yes, but you couldn’t remember whether you’ve taken one today. You were too hazy to think about it, or about anything else, really. “I—I don’t know—ah, Ren—”

“You know what?” He moved to your ear. “I don’t care. I’m still gonna stuff your tight little pussy with my cum whether you like it or not. You want to be my cumslut, don’t you? Let me grant your wish.”

Your legs were dangling over his shoulders, your bottom half raised in the air as he plunged himself repeatedly. “Fuck—” He gasped out when your walls quaked around him. “You’re sucking me in. You want to cum, baby?”

You threw your head back, slamming your skull against the pillow as you cried out, “Yes! Yes, I’m so close—”

“Start begging then.”

“Please,” you sobbed out, “Please, let me cum—”

“Again.”

“Daddy, please! I can’t—” Your mouth was opened wide in a silent scream. Lightning bolts of ecstasy shot through your body, going straight to your core. Your orgasm hit you so intensely that you squirted on his cock, feeling nothing but shame when he laughed degradingly at you.

“You came without my permission.” He pulled away to see how much you’d coated his skin with your slick. “Filthy whore.” He slapped his hand against your cunt, the stinging pain causing your body to jolt in response. “You want to be punished?”

“No, Daddy–” He smacked it again, his fingers hitting your swollen clit. “Ah–Daddy, I’m sorry!”

He heard your words well, but even then, he still gave you another slap. “What was that, baby?”

“I’m…” You tried to withstand the throbbing pain that vibrated from between your legs. Your voice was reduced to a whimper. “I’m sorry…”

Under different circumstances, the sight of your eyes glazed by your tears would paint his heart with concern, but for some reason tonight, Eren just wanted to see more. “If you’re sorry,” he brought two of his fingers inside you, pumping them fast in a come-hither motion that made you yelp and squeeze your thighs together. “Spread those fucking legs. I wanna feel you cream all over my fucking dick again.”

You were being overstimulated, your body convulsing in response but your husband left you with no choice. You did as you were told, hooking your arms around your thighs and pulling them up as much as you could until every part of you was exposed.

Eren snorted haughtily, stroking his cock at the sight of your twitching hole. “Now, what do you say, Sweetheart?”

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

He smirked. “That’s right.”

Something shifted within you as you fell into the dark heat of his eyes, and once he plunged himself back inside you, you were once again consumed by the smothering passion he gave you. You landed a hand on his chest, trying to push him away to give you a moment to catch your breath. “W-wait—”

He removed your hand, grabbing you by your wrist and pinning it down against the sheets. “Shut up,” he growled, quickening his pace. “Take my fucking cock and scream my name. Or do you want me to use my hands again?”

“N-no, Daddy, I—oh my God–” This was pure animal fucking. Not a hint of romance, not a hint of love. And not a hint of your husband underneath the man that shared the same face with him.

Eren could feel that he was so close to being blinded by the explosion of pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum, baby, you ready?”

He let your legs slide off his shoulders as he focused his everything on reaching his high. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you brought him closer until your chests were plastered to one another. Eren smashed his lips against yours, his kiss as forceful and messy as his thrust. “Fuck, so fucking tight—“

“Cum for me,” you plead in his ear, drawing his earlobe between his teeth. “Cum for me, Ren.”

“Ah, baby—” A strangled moan filled the air as he came, his hips stuttering before he slowed down, riding his orgasm. His arms were shaking with exertion, his nose pressing against the side of your throat. You could feel his cock throb with each shot of his cum, filling you up so much that his white seeds trickled out of you, staining the sheets underneath. He was still moving, lazily fucking back every little bit of semen that seeped out and you let him.

When his body stopped trembling, Eren kept himself inside you the way he was, only reaching out one hand to snatch your phone from the headboard. It was still recording until he tapped his thumb on the screen. A new video was saved to the gallery. Tossing the phone to the bed, Eren returned to you, releasing the most blissful sigh as he laid his body flat on top of you.

“Did it really record everything?”

“Yeah, let’s watch it later. Put it on a big screen, grab some popcorn. It’ll be fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not going to pull out?” You asked him, your fingers idly playing with his strands.

“No,” he slurred out the word, feeling drowsy and enervated. “Let’s stay like this for a while. I love it when I have my dick inside you. You feel so warm.”

“You’re gross.”

“You’re beautiful.” He elevated his face just enough to kiss your cheek. Joy bubbled up inside him at the sound of your pretty giggles but it only lasted for a few seconds before he turned pensive. “Baby… What if I got you pregnant again?” He mumbled, sounding more like himself than how he had sounded all night. There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. He was concerned, maybe even guilty, for taking out your options. “We haven’t really talked about having another kid.”

The sudden change in his attitude was so baffling, that it robbed a burst of laughter out of your mouth. “You’re so cute.” You circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until his lips were a breath away. “It’s okay.” You kissed him once, unwinding the taut muscles on his shoulders. “We’ll let God decide for us. Whatever it turns out to be, I’m ready.”

He smiled, so delicately and beautifully, as he stroked your head, pushing your hair behind your ear. He lost himself in your gaze, planting a soft kiss on your temple before he asked you in a whisper, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?”

“Just a little bit,” you giggled. “I can’t believe you really slapped me. Like seven times.”

“Oh my God.” He turned pale. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you like that but you said you wanted me to do it and I—” You interrupted him with a kiss, letting him feel the glee in your smile. When you broke away, he was pouting at you. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I am,” you replied with a grin. “Were you really just pretending for my sake? I think you enjoyed it a little bit too much, treating me like a whore.”

A flush crept up his cheek. “W-well, I, uhh…” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

“Can’t believe you ripped open my nightgown.”

Eren turned a shade redder. “F-for dramatic effects.”

Though amused, you gave him a look, judging him with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve just slapped me once and stopped there, you know.”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he whined apologetically, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he drowned in shame. “It’s just… You looked so cute after I slapped you. I think I I got too… excited.”

“I’ve always known you were a bit of a sadist.”

He pulled away, slightly panicking as he peered into your eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

You melted into a smile, stroking his face. “Of course, Rennie.”

He leaned into your touch. “Will you still love me regardless?”

“Well,” you faked a weary sigh. “I’m married to you so…”

“Babyyy,” he nuzzled his nose against your neck, acting similarly to a dog, begging for your forgiveness. “Please still love me.”

“Fine, I’ll try my best.” Eren brushed his lips against yours again, laughing into your mouth. You stopped him before he could deepen the kiss, placing one finger on his lips. “On one condition, though.”

“Anything for my beautiful wife,” he replied, kissing your fingertip.

“Let me make you my bitch and slap you next time too.”

He was baffled at first, then he stared flatly at you. “Couldn’t you have phrased it more romantically?”

“Let me make you my bitch and slap you next time, baby boy.”

“Literally didn’t change anything but okay.” Bestowing another kiss, Eren pulled himself out of you, kicked the rest of his clothing away, and rolled to his back. He was ready to cuddle close as he waited for his strength to return so he could take a shower. But to his surprise, you shifted and mounted yourself on his hips, your hands landing on the tight muscles of his abdomen.

“B-baby?”

You slapped him hard across the cheek, tossing his face to the side. Eren had his lips parted in shock when he returned his gaze to yours. “Bro, that felt so personal!”

You chortled. “Did I hurt your feelings, Princess?”

“Well, no, but—” You slapped him again and he whined. “Babyyyy, you make me feel like a whore!”

“You are a whore.” You yanked him up harshly by his necklace, forcing him to sit on the bed as you straddled his lap. “You’re my whore for the night. Gonna be a good boy for me, Rennie?”

He gulped. “Give me a five minutes break? I'm a bit tired—”

"I don't care if you're tired. I'm not finished." You curled your fingers around his throat, your grin was even more wicked than anything he had showcased earlier. "I'm gonna take care of you now, baby."

"Have mercy on me, please."

***

AN: DON'T LOOK AT ME OKAY Y'ALL REQUESTED THIS!!! I hope you enjoyed it despite all the slapping LMAO thanks so much for reading! Also huge thanks to Sandra for beta-reading this for me, you're the real MVP, babe!

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#eren smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren fluff #aot x reader #aot smut #snk smut #snk x reader #eren x reader smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren #eren jaeger #eren yeager #the last song canon #in another life canon

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heyimkana · 7 months

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24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 2

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The second episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Humor Word Count: 9K Warnings: no plot, just a compilation of fluffy scenes that you share with your whipped, super annoying husband, Satoru. there's a bit of a smutty scene but it's not explicitly written.

Episode 2: Daylight

07.04 AM

The morning sunray seeps through your windows, kissing your skin with familiar warmth. The red roses Satoru bought you yesterday greet you with their sweet scent as they sit prettily in a glass vase that glimmers like crystal underneath the light. You take a quick scan around, expecting the worst but surprisingly, besides the bedroom, your place is still recognizable despite the drunk antics that you and your husband did last night after finishing a whole bottle of wine to yourselves.

Your work doesn’t start until nine, and although usually, you would leave at 8.15 to avoid the risk of turning up late, after noticing what day it is, you reckon that traffic won’t be so bad. Plus, your home is only around ten minutes away from your office anyway. It’s the main reason why Satoru insisted on buying this condominium in the first place—to give you more time to yourself (and for him to cuddle with you on the sofa because you always look so snuggly in the morning). Maybe you can take it easy today. Brushing your teeth and changing your nightgown into an oversized hoodie (Satoru’s) and a pair of comfy sweatpants, you get yourself to work.

Among the clutters on the floor are your cocktail dress and Satoru’s expensive suit and tie, scattered all over the carpet, giving you a quick flashback of what happened after you arrived home from the fancy restaurant he took you last night. The exchange of heavy, scorching kisses in the elevator… Your spine pressed flat against the wall with his head between your thighs the second the front door was shut close… A bottle of red wine tasted directly from each other’s tongue… And…

You glance down at your hands, feeling heat flaring in your cheeks as your eyes land on the thin, but quite noticeable, purple bruises that circle your wrists like dark bracelets.

Last night was… wild.

“God, we’re not young anymore,” you mumble to yourself, shamefaced, as you head toward the kitchen. There are empty plates and half-filled glasses left abandoned on the aisle, and a pizza box that you ordered at two in the morning for an emergency snack (Satoru always gets hungry after sex), but it will only take you a few minutes to clean everything up, so everything’s fine.

Today’s start isn’t so bad.

The condo that you and Satoru bought together felt too spacious and grand at first. The neat white walls somehow screamed lonely, desperate for human touch. But after living here for three years, three whole years of a happy marriage with occasional fights that never lasted a night, it felt truly like home—the kind that you’ve never had the joy to experience before.

Silly Polaroid photos of the two of you are plastered all over the fridge. A collection of your favorite novels sits on the bookcase among healthy pileas that tumble elegantly over the shelves. Satoru’s favorite Hatsune Miku figures are there too, despite your constant begging to just throw them away, but that’s marriage, isn’t it? You just have to compromise on every single thing. Even when the color of Hatsune’s stupid hair—why does it have to be turquoise of all shades?—ruins your aesthetic.

A huge, beautiful mural showcasing the map of the world can be found painted on one side of the wall. In some countries, there are words written by colorful markers, telling a story of the memorable journeys you’ve had together. Satoru’s messy handwriting used to be there but you scrapped them all because drawing a bunch of arrows pointing at different cities and writing down the words “We did it here” or “We also did it here” and “We toooootally did it here” with wink faces on the sidedon’t exactly seem appropriate, especially since Megumi’s son often comes by to visit his favorite uncle. (The word ‘favorite’ here is self-proclaimed. Megumi never said that. His son also never said that. Satoru is just delusional.)

You catch a whiff of your husband’s perfume, still somewhat lingering close, a sweet reminder of your chaotic days in high school and the moment your romance bloomed during your college days. Oh, also, coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through all of your work meetings today. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is one of your favorite scents in the world and you smile to yourself as you pour it into your mug.

“Someone looks happy,” Satoru sniffles as he places his chin on your shoulder, long arms winding themselves around the dip of your waist. And cuddly, he adds in his head. Though he always finds himself swooning seeing you in your cocktail dress or work attire, he adores this look the most. Messy bun, bare face with acne patches on your chin and nose, his hoodie covering your body to the middle of your thighs. You're precious.

He won’t say this to you though, not today.

“Someone sounds a bit grumpy.” You tilt your head just enough to peck him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to finish.”

“Well, it would’ve only taken me ten minutes if somebody was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“What, your two hands aren’t enough?”

“They don’t feel as good as yours.” He’s pouting. Even if you can’t see it, you can tell he is. “I didn’t finish, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Honey, you finished, like, four times last night.”

“You’re missing the point,” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this but…” He turns your body around, making you face him with your cup between your hands and your back leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s still in his boxer shorts, you notice, but he’s made the effort of throwing on a green pastel shirt, hanging loose on his body and unbuttoned to his chest. Satoru rests his palms on the surface, trapping you between his arms. “I think I’m getting so dependent on you now that I can’t even cum on my own.”

“You can’t do anything without me these days, actually,” you comment, running your mouth without realizing that he’s desperate for your sympathy. He gives you a look, staring flatly at you. “And I can’t do anything without you, my love,” you add with a smile, tapping his cheek. “There. Happy now?”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he answers, and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, I used to do it so easily, you know? I didn’t even need to look at actual porn to jerk off. I was so in control of my body. Just had to picture you naked on your knees with my di—”

“Careful.”

He cuts himself short. “—and I’d be done in, like, two minutes.”

“I see. And here I thought today was going to be boring,” you reply, sarcasm running thick in each word.

“But these days…” His eyes droop. “It hasn’t been that easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even, umm… get it hard,” he admits, blushing. It’s a bit of a confession that he’s been trying to keep to himself for a while.

“What, really? Like, at all?”

He sheepishly nods. “There’s this one time when you were away on a business trip and it had been so long since we had sex so I wanna… You know…”

“Play with your carrot?” You suggest, taking a sip of your coffee. “Rub the eggplant? Stroke the banana?”

There’s a momentary silence where he just looks at you, unamused.

You, also, stay hushed.

Then, “Caress the fresh zucchini—”

“I think that’s enough, babe.”

“Oh, so when I say it, you don’t like it. But when you say it—”

“You’re not saying it at the right time—You know what? Forget it.” Satoru pushes himself away from the counter, fuming and you laugh.

Catching him by the wrist, you whirl him back to you. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you act like this.”

“Can you be serious, please? This is actually very important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stand on your toes, kissing his pout away. “I’ll pay attention, I promise. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m a bit scared,” he says, his shoulders sagging. He looks like a sad puppy. A giant, 193cm tall sad puppy. Even your puppy didn’t look as depressed as him now when she was on the verge of death. “What am I going to do when you’re away for two weeks and I can’t even jerk off once?”

You know you don’t have to jerk off, right? Your mouth is itching to say the words. “Two weeks aren’t even that long.”

“Of course, they are!”

“Okay, so you can’t jerk off for two weeks. What is the big deal—”

“What’s the big deal?!” He gasps, as dramatically as ever, one hand slapped against his chest. “You’re asking me what’s the big deal?! What if this is a sign of early erectile dysfunction?!”

Hereeee we go. “From someone who came four times last night, what are you saying?!”

“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” His voice drops, his face solemn. “Are you an urologist?”

You sigh. “No.”

“Do you have a penis?”

“Satoru—”

“Do you?”

You’re rubbing your head, headaches incoming. “You wouldn’t have married me if I had one now, would you?”

“Not true but okay. Anyway—”

“Wait, hold up, what does that mean—”

“The point is,” he puts pressure on his words, pinching your nose so you’ll stop talking. “No penis, no opinion. Also, multiple studies by Chinese researchers have shown that in order to avoid getting prostate cancer, men should release their sperm around two to four times a week. And—” He holds up a finger in the air, shutting you down before you even begin to open your mouth. “When you orgasm, your brain releases a surge of dopamine, right? I need that, especially when you’re not around to help me manage my stress.”

You press your lips together, as tightly as you can, afraid that you’ll break into another bout of laughter if you don’t. “I see.” It’s so hard to keep your voice away from shaking. He’s so serious, it’s almost out of character for him to be this serious. “So you’re, uhh… You’re stressed, huh?”

“Oh, I am, baby. I’m so stressed out.” He swats his bangs out of his eyes, pushing back his hair. “Look at me. I just woke up and I look like this. You think it’s not stressful to look this handsome every day? I have to work twice as hard as anyone else in my building just to be taken seriously. Especially by the CEO.”

“You mean your daddy.”

“My CEO.”

“Who’s your daddy.” Right after you hear yourself saying the line, you snort, failing to contain your laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just had a flashback of the time when you said those words to me in bed and—” You wipe a tear away, your body shaking from your titters. “God, that was cringe.”

Satoru narrows his eyes. “So you are laughing at me.”

“Yeah, but not because of the things you’re saying right now.” The more you try to explain, the more he seems insulted. “Sorry. Continue.”

His nose flares. He would’ve been vexed if you didn’t look so adorable holding back your giggles. “All the other workers think I’m not fit to be next in line—to lead the company. They think I get everything I want just because I have a pretty face and I’m his only son.”

Well, I mean, they’re not wrong, you ponder to yourself, though you know if you mention it out loud, he’s going to cry. “They’re jealous of you.”

“And then of course there’s that guy, Kenjaku, who clearly wants to take my place so he’s been trying to get close to my dad,” Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Can you believe they went golfing together? Gol. Fing. My dad never even let me touch his golf club!”

Oh, he’s ranting. He’s so upset, he’s ranting like a tired housewife and it’s hilarious. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You spread your arms, offering him a smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“Okay,” he mumbles cutely, moving toward your embrace with his lower lip jutted out. He goes down to his knees, tangles his arms around your waist, and nuzzles his face against your belly.

“I think they just feel intimidated by you.” You land a hand on his head. For some reason, his hair is always extra fluffy in the morning. “Smart, charismatic, and sexy? They don’t stand a chance against my husband.”

Usually, you would have him go back to his feet (figuratively and literally) right away after hearing such words, but Satoru only lets out a small hum—responding but not quite agreeing—as he buries his nose deeper in your fabric. Seems like this one is serious. “Toru, you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do it without you, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“What, getting that promotion without people judging?”

“No. Cumming.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that.” You chortle lightly, stroking his strands. “Okay, listen.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his face to meet your gaze. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction.” You return the small space between you, your lips curving up beautifully as you bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead. “And next time, I’ll take care of your needs. Promise.” Noticing how his eyes take a quick look at the kitchen counter, you add, “Not right now, Satoru.”

“Meanie.” Your husband groans, playfully biting your hand. “And how are you planning to take care of me the next time we’re separated from each other?”

“I’ll do something to help you, uhh… do whatever it is you need to do.”

His eyes light up. “Will you FaceTime me and give me a strip dance with Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing in the background?”

That’s… oddly specific… “And why does it have to be that song, if I may ask?”

“No reason, really…” He averts his gaze. “Just… You know, it makes me think about you…” He seems a bit shy.

Wait. Shy? Satoru is?

How does the song go again?

You tear down my reason It's your sex I can smell You make me perfect Become somebody else I wanna fuck you like an animal

You send your husband a blank stare. Look at him. This pervert is asking you this while acting like an embarrassed schoolgirl standing in front of her crush. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, so cutely as if he was asking you to make him his favorite dish for dinner.

Of course, it’s too much to ask, are you insane? “Or,” you suggest calmly with a forced smile. “We can do slightly more romantic stuff like calling each other on the phone and—”

“DO PHONE SEX?” Stars in his eyes. There are stars in his eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Please say yes, please say yes!”

That isn’t exactly what you have in mind, but can you even decline when he’s like this? Telling him no right now would feel just as awful as when you (because of Satoru, of course) accidentally revealed the truth about Santa to your nephew, giving Megumi a hard time feeding his son who started a hunger strike as he went into depression mode for three days. (This is a horrible comparison, by the way. One child was asking about Santa while this one is asking for the opportunity to whisper “I wanna fuck you like an animal” in your ear when you’re a hundred miles away from home. Two totally different cases, but you know Satoru will behave the same way as your nephew if you reject his wish. Probably even worse.)

With your head throbbing, you murmur, “Maybe just a little…”

“Promise?” He holds up his pinky, grinning from ear to ear.

All that positive energy you had this morning? Drained. “Promise…”

“Yaay~”

As you break into a cold sweat thinking about the unfortunate event that will soon befall you (aka the phone sex), Satoru, is already back to his giddy and frisky self. Well, as long as he’s happy, I guess.

“What are you having?” He asks, jumping back to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Mm. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m craving hot chocolate.” He reaches a hand toward the high drawer to get hold of his favorite mug, looming above you and intentionally knocking his chest against your face as he traps you in between. He giggles when you glare. He’s childish that way.

“How very girly of you.”

“It’s to relieve my stress.” He pokes you in the stomach. “Also, liking hot chocolate doesn’t make me look girly.”

“Sure, but trying on my skirt does.”

“Babe, come on,” Satoru whines, his earlobes turning scarlet. “How many times are you going to hold me on this? I was just messing around!”

“Honey, you were alone in our bedroom, wearing my maxi skirt and checking yourself in the mirror.”

“It was a dare from Suguru.”

“And taking selfies.”

“So I can send some proof to Suguru.”

“Not the point, Satoru.”

“That is the point! Babe, can’t you see? Saying no to the stupid dare would’ve made me seem less manly than he is.”

“So you’d rather put yourself in a skirt?”

“Well, duh!”

You can’t find the logic in his excuse, you really can’t. “In my defense, though,” he adds. “I thought you were gonna be out for a little longer.”

“What would’ve happened if I were? Gonna put on my thong next?”

“No,” he scoffs, trying to regain whatever amount of dignity he has left. “Also, it’s not like you’ve never done something embarrassing before. Remember that time when we went to Megumi’s birthday dinner and you ended up telling his nana a dick joke?”

“That was also you.”

“No, no. I meant, that one with the salaryman meeting a guy in a horse costume—” His realization falls upon him. “Oh my God, it was me.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s okay.” You turn to face the counter once again, placing your mug on the surface before you reach forward to grab a bit more cream. “After being married to you for three years, the only thing that will surprise me is if you grow another head. Anything else, I can manage.”

“Why does this sound comforting and insulting at the same time?”

“Because it’s both.”

With his lower lip protruding, Satoru hugs you again from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head this time. This is why he claims to be all stressed out whenever you’re away. He’s so keen on physical touch that he can’t bear even a few inches of distance between you when you’re around. He reaches up to open the counter, grabbing a jar filled with cocoa powder. His chest is pressing against your spine, his other arm never leaving your waist. “I think we run out of sugar,” he says. “Wanna drop by the mart after work? I’m gonna have meetings all day today, but I can ditch the dinner party.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Hell no. Suguru’s hosting. He makes the worst parties.”

“Isn’t he the guy who’s rumored to be in love with you? I heard about it from Shoko.”

“Yeah,” Satoru snickers, very childishly. “I was the one who started the rumor by putting a note on his desk that said ‘I wish one day you’ll look at me the way you look at your wife. Your silver hair and pretty blue eyes have captivated me from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I dream of tasting your soft lips every night.’ It was so easy to copy his handwriting, I just couldn’t help it. Yuki found out about it and she started gossiping and by the end of the day, everyone knew. I took the note away before he noticed. Suguru never found out I did that, didn’t even know what was going on. He was so confused when people tried to cheer him up. I saw Choso giving him a pat on his shoulder, saying ‘We all love you for who you are, never change.’ And Suguru was like, ‘Uuuh, thanks, but I don’t want to be a salesman forever.’ And so both of them were confused.”

Your mouth twists into a grimace. “You are evil.”

“I prefer the term genius,” he corrects you, seemingly proud of his deed.

“Also, soft lips?”

“Aren’t they?” He seductively raises an eyebrow. To be fair, yes, they are. Even on the coldest night, they’re still as soft as a butterfly’s wing. He has claimed many times that he only used a lip balm if necessary but you don’t buy it. There must be witchcraft involved. He puckers his lips, ready to kiss you and make you experience the thick jealousy you have of his pretty mouth—because, really, all these lip balms you have and your lips are still chapped during winter. You dodge, pushing your palm against his face instead. The big puppy that he is, he licks it.

“I think I’ll be out of the office around seven today,” he informs as you scrunch up your nose in disgust, wiping his saliva away.

“Okay. Pick me up first?”

“Like you need to ask,” Satoru smiles, granting a cute kiss on your forehead. He dabs his thumb on the corner of your lips, rubbing off a little bit of sugar from the leftover doughnut that you enjoyed with your coffee. He cleans it off his digit with his tongue, randomly ruffling your hair as he makes his way to the living room.

“Oh, wait, almost forgot,” he says, retracing his steps.

“Hmm?”

Satoru snatches a jar from the counter—the one that you just used, filled with cream—and puts it in the highest drawer, the closest one to the ceiling. “Just a little payback,” he sniggers. “For giving me blue balls this morning.”

With him being 193 cm tall, he simply needs to stand on his toes for a little bit to reach it, but you? “I think you’re gonna need a ladder.” His teeth flash in an irritating grin. “Enjoy your creamless coffee for the next few weeks, Sweetcheeks—OUCH—BABY, THAT’S MY KNEE!”

“Grab the jar.”

“Fine.” He retrieves it with a grumble, handing it back to you. “But I’m reporting you for domestic abuse.”

You raise your wrist, showing the actual bruises he left on your skin. “I’ll see you at court then.”

“Babeeeeeee~”

***

07.21 AM

“Satoru.”

Your dear husband has been lying down on the couch for the past ten minutes, a head of velvety hair—which somehow still smells pleasantly like your favorite shampoo—resting on your lap. With a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he turns deaf ears to everything that’s going on, focusing on nothing but moving his thumbs to win the next round of Momotetsu. As his eyebrows wrinkle in deep concentration, Satoru punches the buttons on his Nintendo Switch, glaring at the screen and swearing under his breath.

“Satoru.”

“Wait, babe, I just need to choose this card and—NOOOOOOOO!” He launches himself forward, sitting up with his mouth gaping, his eyes shaking in horror. “Did I just—yep, lost a million yen. Fuck this game. A Martha card?! A fucking Martha card?! Oh, I’m gonna—” He slams his console against the cushion. Repeatedly. He’s 29, and he throws a bigger tantrum than Megumi’s three-year-old son.

“Watch your blood pressure, Honey.”

“Who even invented this game?! Stupid as shit. Babe, do me a favor and don’t ever let me play—” His phone rings before he can finish. Throwing one glance at his screen, Satoru mutters, “Oh, great. Here we go.”

The name Dumbass Monk is written on his phone. You wonder who it is.

Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Suguru.”

Ah, yes, of course.

“No, how the fuck should I know that the card was gonna choose me?!” he barks, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I wanted it to choose you—oh fuck off, asshole, you’re broke as hell, you smell like wet socks, and your wife hates you. Wait, what was that?” He suddenly switches his voice, doing his best impersonation of a nosy old lady talking about the latest gossip. “You don’t have a wife? Not even a girlfriend?” He maniacally cackles. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think I’m the loser here. Unlike you, I’ve got a super hot wife who loves me unconditionally.”

You flip a page of the book you have sitting on your lap. “Only ‘cause you’re rich.”

“And—” Satoru continues yapping on his phone but he makes sure to poke you on your side for your unnecessary comment. “She’s not just hot. She’s a complete package. She smells like daffodils, she makes me breakfast every morning and she looks so fucking gorgeous when she fucks—”

You slap a pillow against his head.

“—feeds me cookies,” Satoru finishes lamely, wincing, one hand raised in the air as a form of surrender before he takes another hit. “No, I’m not gonna pay you, idiot, you won purely by luck!” He then gasps, his jaw dropping low. “Did you just call me a monkey? Oh, that’s it—”

Satoru is on his feet, shouting, growling, fingers jabbing and clenching as his mouth runs wild. You can somewhat hear the other man’s voice, giving you enough idea of what they’re arguing about although you can’t make out every word. Suguru’s tone is always soft and melodious when he speaks, but his insults are truly on another level. Chuckling to yourself at the strings of expletives that tumble out of their mouths, you watch your husband yell until blood pools on his face, “Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you have erectile dysfunction, which, based on all the non-existent sex you’ve been having, I know you will! Good day!” Suguru is still calling him names when Satoru ends the call with, “I SAID GOOD DAY!”

You flip another page of the novel you've been trying—and failing due to someone’s endless shouting—to immerse yourself in. “Seems like you two are close.”

“Oh, he can die, I don’t care.” Angrily, he tosses his device away, landing his head back on your lap with the loudest groan he can muster. “Whatever. I’m still a better player than he is.”

“Of course, you are, honey,” you respond, your hand naturally falls back to his hair, caressing it like you’re stroking a cat’s fur.

It only takes a few seconds before your husband stops shaking in vexation, even looking a bit sleepy from your comforting touches. “Were you talking to me before?”

“Mm. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Placing a bookmark in between the pages, you close your book and set it down on the coffee table next to you. “About before, when you told me about your co-workers. How did you know that they’ve been thinking about you that way?”

He blinks, not expecting you to return to your previous conversation. “Aaaw, honey, are you worried about me?” From wishing someone to suffer crucially from impotence to wiggling in joy like a thirteen-year-old girl at the slightest sign of affection, your husband really does have an emotional range of a teaspoon.

“Of course, I do. You’re my husband.”

His mouth curves upside-down, his eyes glimmering, “Babeee, that’s so sweeeet.”

Though you're not so sure why he’s so happy when you just stated a fact, you let him be. “So what happened?”

“I heard them chatting when I passed by the smoking room one afternoon. I don’t smoke—you know I quit a long time ago—so I didn’t know they were ganging up on me and talking shit about me behind my back. Isn’t it gross for a bunch of thirty-year-old men to gossip?” His face scrunches up in disgust. He, the same man who spent two hours on the phone talking to the Dumbass Monk about the recently hired secretary, Maki Zenin (who’s apparently so strict and vicious that, in Satoru’s words, “Almost made me cry in fear when I arrived late at my lunch meeting last week.”), actually had the audacity to ask that question.

"What did they say?” You ask him.

“They said if it wasn’t because of my family name, I would’ve never gotten promoted to C-level.”

“But that’s not true!”You catch him off guard with your sudden fervor after spending the last conversation acting so dull. “I’ve seen how much you worked for this! Satoru, you earned that position fair and square!” Your husband might act frivolous almost every hour of the day, but there were times that he missed his sleep trying to come up with a new marketing strategy to promote their upcoming products. There were hours spent with him taking one conference call after another with his clients, even at two in the morning from the comfort of your living room due to the difference in their time zones. He’s the CEO’s son, true, but he worked just as hard, if not more, as everyone else in the company.

The more it sinks into your brain, the more irked you become. “Who said this?” You snap. “Huh? Who talked shit about you behind your back? I want names.”

Satoru lets out a chuckle, his eyes thinning into a line. It’s been a while since he last saw you being this protective of him. It reminds him of the old days in high school when you, despite acknowledging yourself as being his archenemy, were always quick to defend him when someone threw shade at him. “Honey, relax—”

“Was it Naoya? Or was it Toji? It was Toji, wasn’t it? Oh, that bitch—”

“It wasn’t Toji,” Satoru says, holding you by the hand in a futile attempt to calm you down. “Though you could still punch him if you want.”

“Why, did he do something to you?”

“I just hate his face.”

That’s very Satoru behavior of him that you don’t even bother to comment. “Nobody talks shit about my husband. If they think you get things done easy for you, it’s because you’re so smart, you make things look easy.”

He sits up, turning around to face you with warm, round eyes. “You think I’m smart?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the smartest man I know.” You give him a light punch on his chest. “If I were your dad, I would’ve still given you that promotion, regardless of our relationship. You’re just that good at your job.”

“That’s…” He swallows. “This is the first time you’ve complimented me like this.” It’s a surprise to him, a very pleasant one, causing contentment to fill his heart.

You feel awful once you notice that even though you constantly thought of him this way, you never spoke your appreciation out loud. “Satoru, I’ve always admired you.” You rest your fingers on his knuckles, apologizing. “I know you complain about having to wake up early to go to work every morning, but despite your flippant attitude, you bear a deep sense of responsibility. You always manage to surpass people’s expectations—surpass mine and I already thought highly of you.” You give him a squeeze, smiling more with your eyes than your lips. “You make me proud. Every day you make me proud.”

Satoru mirrors your expression, a soft blush painting his cheeks as his joy engulfs him whole. He wraps his arms around you, sinking his nose in your hair as he pulls you close. “You’re not throwing compliments at me just to cheer me up, are you?” He whispers and it’s only during times like this that he lets his vulnerability show. Satoru always shines like the brightest star, his eyes brimming with confidence, but there’s still a part of him—part that he conceals from everyone else except you—that needs to be consoled. He’s still a little boy who wishes for a gentle pat on the head and you always give the warmest one.

“I’m not complimenting you, I’m telling the truth. But yes, I am trying to cheer you up.” You return his embrace, your hand sliding up and down his back. “I wouldn’t have said this if you were okay ‘cause I know it’s gonna boost up your ego even more. You’re already annoying the way you are, so…”

He titters. “Can we stick to you being nice to me?”

You echo the noises he made, returning the space between you just wide enough to kiss his cheek. You cup his face with your fingers, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m sorry people said mean stuff about you… Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His smile is softer than the clouds. He leans close, cutely nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “This is why I need you in my life. You act aloof around me but you always think about me more than you think about yourself. You pretend to be ignorant, but you never fail to notice all these efforts I made. You care about me more than anyone else.”

Watching him put your feelings into words makes you feel flustered but you don't deny it. Not when he speaks only the truth. “I can also kick everyone’s butt for you.”

“As someone who has witnessed your heroic tales in high school, yes, you can, one hundred percent.” You feel his smile forming on your skin as he kisses your temple. “But just having you around me right now is enough. And it’s fine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, at least not anymore. As long as you’re proud of me.”

“I am,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m proud of you, Toru.”

He takes away your hand that’s been warming his face, kissing your wrist while he maintains eye contact with you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Your stomach swirls at the intensity of his gaze, his voice—just above a whisper—bears the same kind of tenderness and affection he portrayed on the day he asked you to marry him. His lips rub against your veins, the softest kiss against the softest skin. Your hand seems tiny in his grip but it’s a perfect fit. Every part of you is when it comes to him.

“So, uhh…” You clear your throat. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep doing my best so I can prove them wrong.” His grin returns. “I’ll make my wife feel even prouder of me.”

He replies to your little chuckles with a kiss, light but sweet. Despite your heart wanting more of his touch, of the heat of his lips against your own, you focus on the matter. “Why have you never told me about this before?”

“Because I never cared about it too much,” he replies with a shrug. “Work only feels overwhelming when you’re not around. When you’re with me, no matter how stressful my workplace is, I’ll feel at ease instantly.” He lays his forehead on your shoulder, rubbing his face against the fabric. “So, don’t leave me, okay? If I have to go out of town, I’ll have you hide inside my suitcase so I can carry you around.”

You chortle lightly. “And if I have to go?”

“Well…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated on the shape of your lips as he caresses them with his thumb. He looks back at you, his fingertips resting on your nape, holding you still. You find your breathing stalled as his own fanned your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to stay.”

And when he kisses you again, you know that he doesn’t mean with his words.

***

07.34 AM

“Bunny!” Satoru calls from the bathroom, his voice reverberating loudly through the hall. “Baby, come over here!”

Standing in your apron with your hands moving to fetch your chopped onions from your kitchen aisle, you try your best to focus on your cooking while answering him at the same time. “For the last time, Satoru, I’m not interested in taking a shower together with you!” You sprinkle some pepper into the dish, wiping your sweat away from your temple with the back of your hand. You take a glance at the digital clock nearby. “Not when we have to leave in an hour!”

“But I’ll let you shape my hair!”

“Not interested!”

“I’ll even let you give me a mohawk!”

“Not intere—oh shit—” It’s a given, really, that you’d accidentally pour too much salt into your cream soup from all this diversion. Taking a deep breath, you start to glare at your ceiling as you chant don’t get angry, don’t get angry inside your head. This is the reason why you try to keep him off the kitchen floor as far away as possible whenever you’re making food but even when he’s meters away from you, he still manages to annoy you somehow.

“Babe, I couldn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“NO!”

***

07.41 AM

“Oooh~ Something smells good~” Satoru chirps, popping back into the living room with a toothy grin and a white towel wrapped around his hips. It’s hanging low on his body, showcasing very distracting V-lines that you (secretly) adore. You look away. No good can come from staring at your husband’s lean, perfectly shaped stomach at this time of the day.

But then you catch a glimpse of the scratch marks you left on his back from last night, your face aflame since you can barely remember how hard you dug your nails into his skin. Satoru always likes it when you’re not careful with him—just like how you love it when he’s rough with you—but were you really that… desperate to keep him close, clutching onto him like that?

You shake your thoughts away. “Dry your hair properly,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the plates you’re currently setting on the dining table. “I just mopped the floor.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dabbing a smaller towel against his hair, Satoru walks closer to your spot and pulls back a chair.

You eye him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a seat, what do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re not gonna wear your clothes first?”

“Do I have to?” He takes a sip of your half-finished coffee, smacking his lips before he throws a naughty grin. “I mean, I fucked you right here last night. Surely you won’t mind eating breakfast with me only in my towel?” Before you can say a word—and you have lots to say—Satoru adds, “I’m just giving you a chance to ogle at my body as much as you want as you enjoy your food. I know you’re too embarrassed to ask, so you’re welcome. And if you’re willing to take a day off, I can be your dessert too.”

You make a face. “Gross.”

“And yet, you don’t deny the fact that you’re planning to stare.” Peering into your eyes, he places his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table. The haughty look he displays on his face is supposed to irritate you, but what it does is make your heart pound harder. “You’ve seen and touched these babies for years, and you still can’t get enough? Babe, come on.”

“You seriously calling your abs your babies?”

“Yep.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But if you play nice, I’ll let you call them—”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

***

07.46 AM

“Babe?”

“What?”

“I have something to say but promise me you won’t kill me after I said it.”

“Okay…” You look up from your plate, feeling a bit concerned. “What is it?”

Satoru has never looked this serious in his entire life (because face it, Satoru and the word serious don’t really belong together now, do they?).

Taking hold of your hand, he gently squeezes it, providing the comfort that you might need.

“This soup is salty as hell.”

***

07.58 AM

With the taste of salt still lingering thickly on his tongue (and a bump on his head, a masterpiece done by your fist), Satoru steps inside the bedroom with a yawn, his fingers scratching his undercut. He unwraps the towel from his waist, tossing it onto the sheets without care.

Your husband smiles the second he notices the way you’ve prepared his clothes so neatly on the desk, all the way from his tie, his belt even down to his socks. His dress pants are ironed to a crisp seam, and his phone is fully charged (after being married to him for three years, you’ve learned all of his little habits). You’ve selected a matching dark tie to go with his suit, one that he recalled was given to him as a gift during last year’s anniversary. He loves it. He loves how you always buy the things he needs instead of what he wants, even when he, himself, didn’t realize how essential they were. But what makes him the happiest is when he sees the way it makes you smile so warmly every time he wears it, like a painter landing a final stroke on her masterpiece. For someone who doesn’t speak romantic words so often, your little gesture never fails to portray what’s on your mind. You love him and it shows.

“I’m being spoiled, huh?” Satoru mumbles to himself, nothing but elation in his chest. He spots the little notes you left him on the same table, your handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. “Ooooh~ A love note?”

Dear husband, If you leave your wet towel on the bed again I’ll kill you.

“Not a love note.” Wincing, he immediately retrieves the towel from the bed, his mind playing a traumatic flashback of you scolding him about it for two hours straight (because suddenly it wasn’t just about the wet towel, was it? The forgotten toilet seat. The countless jackets hanging on the coat rack because he kept grabbing a new one. The pile of hentai doujinshi piling up on the coffee table. All of them.)

With the thought of skipping today’s work lingering in his head, Satoru forces himself to dress. As he turns around to face the mirror, he captures a brief look at the kiss marks blooming on his neck, ones that you painted on him last night. They’re faint because, unlike someone in this condo, you make sure to always be considerate of his appearance (though Satoru wishes you weren’t), but even the lightest shade of red seems vibrant on his fair skin.

Although he acts nonchalant most of the time, your husband is quite the possessive type, so it’s a given that he likes the idea of having his marks on you. He gets a kick out of watching you struggle to hide the love bites he left on your neck, even more so when someone notices it. But, of course, nothing beats the feeling of having your marks on him. If you allowed him to, he would’ve worn every bite and bruise like a medal. Proudly. Contentedly. The same way he exhibited every present you’ve given him. Satoru just loves the idea of having a wife—of having you as his wife—and he would showcase that to the world in every second of his life if he could.

He traces the bruises with his fingertips, drowning himself in the thoughts of you gasping against his ear, your teeth grinding against his neck as he pushed your knees further against your stomach with every thrust of his hips. He wasn’t lying when he said you looked absolutely gorgeous during sex. The way you parted your lips. The way your eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. The little noises you made when you breathed out his name as you bounced on his lap—

Satoru looks down. There it is again, the ache between his legs. Funny how you’re already so distracting even without doing anything—or being in the same room for that matter. Sighing, he grouses, “Guess she’s right. No signs of erectile dysfunction.” Willing his indecent thoughts to go away, he tucks his hands into the sleeves, buttoning up his shirt before he circles his tie around his neck.

“Satoru!” He hears your voice resonating from the bathroom. “Toru, can you come here for a sec? I need your help!”

“Oh, now she’s calling me to have sex with her.” He rolls his eyes. “After I finish taking a shower. So much for playing hard to get,” he scoffs. It’s ironic that he says this because right now he’s the one who’sacting that way. With giddy hands, he unfastens his tie, rushing to take off his pants again and almost tripping on his way out. He dashes toward the bathroom, opening the door while he strives to keep his excitement in check.

“WHOA!” You yelp in surprise, your body nude and drenched, hiding behind the door with only your head peeking out. “Why are you naked?!”

He frowns, confused. “Cause we’re about to have sex?”

Now you’re confused. “Uhh, no?”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I forgot my towel.”

“You’re asking me to get you your towel?” He sounds so appalled as if that thought never occurred to him when it’s supposed to be the first thing that should pop out in his head. Before you can respond, however, his mind, delusional as always, answers the question for him. “Oh, I see,” he smirks. “You’re using codes.”

“What?”

“‘I forgot my towel’—isn’t that, like, our code for ‘let’s have sex in the shower?’”

“Satoru.” You hold yourself back from ripping the silver strands out of his head. He’s testing your patience. Again. “We don't have any secret code.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” It almost feels a bit cartoonish the way his shoulders sag upon hearing your words. There he is, a 29-year-old male standing in front of you in all his naked glory, saddened to his core over the fact of not having a cipher for sex. Well, for three seconds anyway. “So… You wanna make this our secret code, effective immediately, or—”

“Get the damn towel.”

With a stomp, Satoru leaves the bathroom only to return with your towel in one hand and his eyes squinting in a glare. Being the brat that he is, instead of handing it directly to you, he lets the thick cloth fall to the floor just a few inches away from where you’re standing.

“Oh, you’re so annoying.”

“Isn’t that your secret code for saying you love me?”

You throw a jab to his stomach.

***

08.24 AM

Pushing your hair out of your coat, you call out your husband’s name. You examine your appearance one more time in the mirror, tidying your strands until they frame your face perfectly. The condo is fairly clean. Your stomach is full though you can’t seem to wash away the saltiness of your soup just yet. You’re only seven minutes late from your original plan, which isn’t bad. You’re all set.

“Toru, you’re ready to go?”

Your husband is still yawning when he meets you in the foyer, carrying his handbag with his shoulders sagging forward. He’s dressed sharply in a white button-up shirt, combined with a black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders. He looks handsome. He always does.

“Well, well, well, hello, Mr. CMO,” you snicker, pulling him by the tie while seductively batting your eyelashes at him. “Do you have time to spare? I would like to have a private meeting with you.”

He’s so tired, he doesn’t have the strength to keep up with your flirting, which says something since it’s usually the other way around. He spreads his arms wide open, his pout turning more prominent by the second. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I need my twenty-second hug.”

So, apparently, Satoru believes in this theory he found recently on the internet that said when you hug someone for, at least, twenty seconds, your body begins secreting the hormone oxytocin which is known to boost the immune system and reduce stress. He said that but you know that he’s just doing it so he can squeeze your ass, and that’s a fact, not a theory.

“Fine, but don’t grope my ass.”

“As long as you don’t grope mine.”

“I literally never did that.” You bury your face in his chest, tangling your arm around his waist. Satoru’s warmth is really one of a kind, or maybe he’s just as warm as a normal human being and you’re just too intoxicated by his scent that you stop making sense. No matter what the reason is, it’s comforting to be in his arms and if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it every time (acting like you’re the one who desperately wants to embrace him), you’d probably spend hours of your day just hugging him like this.

He buries his nose in your strands. “Your hair smells different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Yeah? That’s hot.”

You close your eyes, basking in his warmth and enjoying the smell of his perfume. He’s wearing a different brand today, just for a change, and although it’s not as sweet as his other one, this somehow feels much more comforting. Soft and fresh, reminding you less of summer and more of spring this time. “You smell different.”

“I used your perfume. And your bra.”

You’re not sure if you’re laughing over his terrible joke or his deadpan delivery, maybe a bit of both. Nuzzling your face against his chest, you titter, “Yeah? That’s hot.”

And he’s not sure if he’s smiling over your reply or the way you just sounded so cute giggling like that—no, definitely both. He tightens his arms around your shoulders, squeezing your body against him until you start pounding your fist against his chest, begging for a time-out before he steals all the air in your lungs. “I think we should just skip work today,” he mutters as he releases you. “We can watch a wildlife documentary and count on how many times Benedict Cumberbatch mispronounced the word “Penguin” as ‘Pengwings.’”

“That sounds productive. If you want Maki to kill you.”

He shudders in fear, pulling you back to him. “Just for that, I’m gonna need another twenty.”

Though you feel the urge the roll your eyes, you let him tug you back into his arms and rest his chin on your head. After all, he’s your personal teddy bear. You can spend your eternity just sinking into his embrace like this.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are on my ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m not groping them.”

“You are now.”

“Well now that you mentioned it, I just have to, don’t I?”

You break away, giving a playful slap on the chest. “Enough, we’re running late.”

“Where do you find the energy to go to work every morning?” He asks with weariness in his eyes. “I am this close to throwing myself back to the bed.”

Funny how literally an hour ago, he promised you that he’d work harder to make you feel even prouder of him. “Well, I guess, it all started when I turned into a fully grown woman.” You smiled at him, fixing his tie before you dealt with his collar. He might be the youngest person to enter C-level in his company, but he still dresses as clumsily as a five-year-old if it wasn’t for you to keep his appearance in check all the time.

“I’m a fully grown man too and I still wish I could lay around all day,” he sulks.

“You’re a man-child.” Tugging on his tie, you pull him down until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “But I love you. Body, mind, and soul.” You beam at him with your widest grin. “How’s that for your energy booster, Gojo-san?”

To your surprise, Satoru answers you by tossing his handbag to the side and dipping his head down once more to re-attach your lips together. He kisses you with the same fervor he had last night, tongue sneaking inside to taste the minty scent of your toothpaste. You gasp against his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his suit as you struggle to maintain your balance. Can’t help but take a couple of steps back from how hard he’s kissing you, you stop only when your spine meets the wall. “Satoru—” You attempt to push him away by placing your hand on his chest but he clamps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it over your head.

With his body pressed against yours, you wonder if he can feel your palpitating heartbeat beating against his own. There’s no stopping him when he gets this aggressive with his kiss and it’s not like you can find any willpower within you to stop him. Fortunately for you, he breaks away, wetting his bottom lip once as his eyes still glaze over your bruised ones.

“Spirits lifted,” he smiles against your lips, sending blood to pool in your cheeks. “Thanks, babe.”

When he lets you go, you find it almost impossible to stay composed. Three years… Three damn years you’ve been married to him and he still knows how to make your knees buckle with a single kiss.

“Babe?”

You push yourself away from the wall, your fingers tangled in your hair when you try to fix it. “W-what?”

Putting on his sunglasses, he casts a smirk, “You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

He pecks your cheek. “I love you too, baby girl.”

***

08.32 AM

Despite you being the better driver—better as in I’m not gonna try and bribe an officer with a brand new iPhone whenever I get pulled over or threaten him with my family name when things don’t work out my way—Satoru always insists on having his hands on the steering wheel every time you’re with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t let his lady drive, especially when she looks this pretty in that skirt,” he always says, and yes, maybe this is his gentleman sidetalking—even when the said gentleman had put on the same skirt and caressed his own butt in front of the mirror a few days back. But honestly? You know this is just a part of his master plan to control the music playlist for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We’re not listening to Hatsune Miku again,” you say, putting on your seatbelt.

“Oh, we totally are,” Satoru cackles, his fingers sliding up and down the touchscreen. He has seventeen different playlists consisting of more than a hundred songs in total, all taken from his favorite albums. Which is not much, really, considering Hatsune Miku is featured in around two thousand songs by now (a fact that you, honest to God, don’t care but he keeps reminding you of).

“Satoru, if you play one more Hatsune Miku song, I swear I won't put out tonight.”

“Well, if I have to listen to cookbook again—”

“Jungkook.”

“If I have to listen to cookbook one more time then I won’t put out tonight.”

“That's fine with me,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he clicks his tongue, desperately jumping to the next option. “Okay, uhh… Oh, I know! You’re not getting my credit card ever again.”

You have one finger hovering above the screen. “So which Hatsune album are we listening to today?”

He sends you a dead stare. “Do you only love me for my money?”

“Oh, honey…” You rest your palm gently on his face, cupping and stroking his cheek. “Of course, I do.” You give him a tap that goes a little too hard than you intended but then again, he kind of deserves it. “Now, drive.”

Satoru doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a retort. Exhaling in defeat, he kicks in the gear while you, with your face crumpled in repulsion, try to pick the least insufferable Hatsune Miku song. Unfortunately for you, Satoru catches a title that steals his attention.

“OOOH go back, go back! I want to listen to that one!”

You sigh, selecting his song choice. “It’s too early to listen to—” Beaming with joy and oblivious to the hatred you have for that one song, Satoru sweeps in and cranks up the volume until you feel your ears ringing from the inside.

“Oh my God—” You flinch. If his loud nagging didn’t bust your eardrum, this definitely will. “Does it have to be this loud?!”

“Of course, my goddess is singing!” He shouts, grinning from ear to ear. He starts singing along, just as loudly, if not more. At this point, you swear there are people jogging on the sidetracks looking at your car with their faces contorting into frowns.

“I’m the number one princess in the world, so that's how you'll treat me,” he sings, slamming his hands against the wheel, head bobbing to the beat. “Oh my God, this is the soundtrack of my life!”

Still scowling, you have no choice but to listen further to the lyrics.

It's not like I'm acting selfish, I'm not asking for much I just want you to think from the bottom of your heart that I'm adorable I'm the number one princess in the world Notice me! Hey! Heeey! Keeping me waiting is out of the question Just who do you think I am? Whatever, I think I could go for some dessert! Yes, right now!

You grimace. “It really is.”

***

10.54 AM

11.45 AM

01.10 PM

01.29 PM

02.05 PM

02.29 PM

03.22 PM

04.02 PM

05.28 PM

06.11 PM

07.06 PM

***

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for the amount of cringe that you had to suffer through while you were reading this 😭

#gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fics.24hourswithyou

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astroboots · 7 months

Note

Hmmm ok maybe the three of them going on holiday and making good use of a hotel room and balcony 😉

STRIP POKER

Summary: The trio goes on a beach holiday only to get trapped in their hotel room and you end up playing strip poker.

Rating: Explicit, DP with Frankie's giant cock which needs a warning of itself.

Warning: Writer has no fucking clue about poker (or any card games) and it fucking shows. She did research and friends and family tried to explain it to her but that only confused her more.

Pairing: Frankie x female reader (you) x Santiago

Word Count: 5k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It's raining outside.

A violent smattering of rain so aggressive it sounds like the window panes are getting the beating of its life.

Frankie sighs. $250 a night for a hotel room with a seaside view and it's just fucking pouring down.

He is standing outside on the balcony, still within safe shelter from the rain. Leaning his elbow against the balcony rail, he peers down at the perfect aquamarine water that glitters like a precious gem underneath, out of reach.

It's his first proper holiday from work in years, and he'd thought it'd be nice to splurge a bit. Big king-sized bed. Hotel Spa. Beach access.

It would have been perfect. And at first it seemed to be. Gorgeous sun as far as the eye could see when the plane touched ground on the tarmac. Then it started raining, and it just didn't stop. Torrential -- there's a typhoon warning on the weather forecast that everyone is recommended to stay inside -- kind of rain.

He throws a glance behind his shoulder, back at the hotel room where Santiago is draped across the large king sized bed with a thick novel he picked up from the airport. Santiago is about three quarters in, which means there's an hour, maybe less, before he's finished.

After that there will be nothing to distract the man and it's only a matter of time before Santiago will get restless. God knows what he'll get up to then.

For once, Frankie won't blame him.

Stuck in a small room with nothing but reruns of telemundo and shitty overpriced hotel service club sandwiches to keep everyone distracted. Frankie's pretty sure that he's going to follow suit with a case of cabin fever not long after Santiago.

From the corner of his eyes, he spots you stomp over to the bed where Santiago is lying. He can't hear what you're saying, but you're waving your hands around animatedly. Santiago immediately puts his novel face-down against the mattress, then he shakes his head adamantly at whatever it is you are saying.

Out of the three of you it looks like your patience was the first to snap.

Your arms cross across your chest, feet stomping down in dismay. Then you turn in the direction of the balcony and Santiago is immediately shooting to his feet to preempt you. He outruns you across the room and flings open the balcony door.

"Frank! Tell your wife it's a bad idea!"

Frankie rolls his eyes at the dramatic outburst. Oh it's his wife now that you have a bad idea, is it?

Cocking his head to the side, Frankie looks to you over Santiago's shoulder. "What's a bad idea baby?"

"Let's go out!" You announce. "So what if it's raining? We can go for a quick swim anyhow. It'll still be warm."

Frankie blinks. He casts his eyes over the cascade of rain that has turned the once white sand into grey sludge. Catches sight of the parasols on the beach that has been uprooted by the winds and are flying wildly, a scene straight out of that 'Twister' movie with Helen Hunt he saw as a kid.

There aren't many occasions in your life together that Frankie has ever said no to you. This though might be one of those rare ones.

"Baby," he starts, voice soft as to cajole you. "That's a bad idea."

You throw your hands out in a dramatic gesture as you stalk your way back inside the room. Frankie barely catches the tail end of your sentence but he hears the string of swears to understand the sentiment of it.

Frankie's left with only Santiago for company on the balcony. The man calmly walks up to the end next to him, leaning out against the railing to assess the weather outside.

To Frankie's surprise, Santiago doesn't say anything. Seemingly content with the companionable silence and the sound of rain smattering all around them. There are no bratty complaints about paying hundreds of dollars only to watch rain. No witty snark.

"You're being uncharacteristically well behaved," Frankie says.

Santiago grins. "I've had a lifetime of experience sitting out shitty weather with nothing to do during missions, Frank. At least this time, I don't have to listen to Firefly's snores."

Frankie snorts at the memory.

"There's much worse things in life than having you and Boa cooped up with me in a fancy hotel room."

There's something soft in Santiago's eyes as he says it. A sentimentality in his voice that Frankie has a hard time placing, because he can't quite recall when Santiago has ever used it with him before.

Before Frankie has a chance to recuperate from blanking out and think of something to say back, Santiago is already leaning away from the balcony to step back inside the room towards you.

"Come on sweetheart. Stop being a brat," he says and playfully swats your backside with a gentle tap that makes you jump.

Santiago leans over the desk and opens a drawer to pull out a pack of cards that he cracks open and your eyes light up at the sight of it.

"If you're bored, let's play a game, yeah?"

In his own humble opinion, Frankie's never been particularly good at poker. He's got the poker face part down, but he never had an interest for gambling and the rules of the game never quite made sense to him.

Santiago on the other hand is a master of it. He's the undefeated champion during their military days and he regularly cleaned out everyone's savings on any given night.

As for you. Competitive as you are, as with every game that you've played more than twice -- you got good at it with practice, but the poker face bit of it is something you are still struggling severely with, because it's always written as plain as day on your face if you have a good or bad hand.

So in a game of strip poker, it's a bit surprising that two hours in, Santiago is the one sat in his underwear, while you and Frankie are still fully clothed.

Frankie's down to his t-shirt and briefs, whereas you have only lost your right sock.

In all honesty, Frankie doesn't quite understand it. Because right now you're sitting across Santiago, a grin so wide you are going to end up with muscle soreness in your cheeks. It's a sign the size of a massive billboard on Time Square lit up in neon and flashing lights that the hand you've been dealt with is good as gold. Yet, despite all the clear signs pointing to only one very clear and undeniable conclusion, for some unfathomable reason, Santiago still refuses to fold.

He tips his chin up in challenge towards you. "What you got sweetheart?"

That grin of yours grow impossibly wider as you set down your cards, revealing them one by one on the wooden floor where you're sat.

First a diamond 8. Then a ace of heart. Then an ace of diamond. Santiago's defiant features fall, pearly white teeth sinking into that pouty lip as he watches you put down a club ace. And as you put down the final card: An ace of spade. Santiago groans in defeat.

"You're cheating," he mumbles indignantly. But his fingers are already dragging his sole remaining garment down over his hips to the sound of your cackling laugh.

If Frankie's eyes linger for a little longer than they should at the round ample curve of Santiago's ass, you don't notice over your absolute glee in defeating the man.

You're already hooting with joy as Santiago demands another round, metaphorically kicking the man when he's already down.

"And what exactly are you going to gamble with for the re-match? You're butt fucking naked Santiago!"

"We'll do different stakes," Santiago shoots back.

"Like what?"

"I'll do whatever you say."

It's like a pin drops in the space between you. Your laughter stops.

"Whatever?" you repeat.

There's a glint in your eye that even Frankie can tell is dangerous, and only an idiot (a competitive idiot) would still go ahead when met with that look on your face.

Santiago is seemingly that idiot.

"Whatever," he confirms. "Carte blanch. Nothing's off the table."

The devious smile on your lips doesn't wane for even a second. You take the deck of cards back into your hands and shuffle them.

"You're on."

Tense is an understatement to describe the next half hour that unfolds in the hotel room.

For a game that was meant to be a fun distraction from the rain outside, it's now turned into something else entirely.

Rundown gambling dens by the border of Colombia are less intimidating than what is going on between you and Santiago right now.

"Antique markets every Sunday at 6am for a month," you threaten him. Santiago practically twitches at the scene you're painting. His fingers grip on tighter on his hand of cards.

You grin at the sign of weakness.

"Oh and you're calling Martina about that time you blamed her for stealing booze from your mom but it was really you."

"What?" Santiago pipes up in alarm, with no trace of his trademark coolness that he usually has for these games. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whatever I say," you remind him. "Those were the terms."

Santiago seethes. Gritting his teeth as he shakes his head and sits back down firmly on the ground. "Sure," he mumbles like a petulant child. "Whatever. Show your hand already."

You scoot closer to Santiago, cards tucked close to your chest with a smile so wide it lights up the whole room with it.

The first card that comes down is a club of 9. The next is a 10 in the same suit.

Frankie can already see the small muscle in Santiago's cut jaw flex before the man drags his hand over it in a tell-tale sign of displeasure that both you and Frankie recognize all too well.

Normally Frankie would say that with that look on your face, Santiago is in a whole world of trouble.

Normally.

The face of Jack is staring up at the three of you from the floor, and before you even put down the final two cards, Santiago and Frankie both already knows that it is going to be a Queen and a King dressed in black club.

You fling down the duo triumphantly and you're already listing out loud every embarrassing act you are going to force Santiago to endure. There are threats of toilet scrubbing. Brunches with Frankie's mom. Attending a taxidermy class with you.

It lasts for several minutes before you lean down to start gathering the cards to put them away.

"Sweetheart, slow down."

Santiago reaches over. His free hand that's not holding the cards, cupping over yours to stop you. There's a slow and almost gentle smile that spreads across his lips.

Then Santiago finally drops the act.

"I haven't shown my cards yet have I?" he says.

From the way that your smile fades. The way the bright light in your eyes dim, you know it too. The bastard played you. Has been playing you this whole evening, right into his conniving and clever hands.

Frankie suspected as much.

After all, Santiago is brilliant at poker. Undefeated for as long as he's known the man.

As good as you may have gotten with practice, there was no way your long and uninterrupted winning streak of this entire evening was from sheer luck. Especially not when Santiago has not shown his hand a single time this evening.

10 of hearts. Jack of Hearts. Queen and King dotted with red hearts above their crown. Then finally an Ace in the shape of hearts.

A royal flush.

"Soooo," Santiago starts with a slow and meaningful drawl as he grins back at you.

"Whatever I say huh?"

Frankie should probably put a stop to this.

Because you look like you're about to kill someone.

You're kneeling on the floor, tucked between Frankie's legs, as Santiago is right behind you, plastered closely to your back.

The man can't resist the urge to tease you, even if it is under imminent threat to his life. Santiago's nimble fingers tuck a loose curl of your hair behind your ear before pressing a kiss to it.

"You're scaring poor Frankie," he tuts. "It's not good manners to stare daggers at a man when you're inches from his cock, sweetheart."

That comment doesn't make you look any less like a murderess to be.

"Frank," Santiago calls out. "Take out your cock."

Frankie sighs as he reaches for his belt to unbuckle. One hand reaches underneath his boxers as he pulls himself out. He doesn't know why he lets either of you constantly rope you into these situations.

God he feels fucking ridiculous.

"Look at how nice and obedient our husband is being," Santiago goads as his hand comes to your jaw, bridging the span of it. Then he gently tilts you downwards to guide your face forward until you're lips are mere inches from Frankie's cock.

As if by instinct, without further instructions, your mouth already parts for him. Just the sight of your glistening tongue makes the entirety of Frank's back tingle.

He can't help it. It's sense memory at this point.

The tip of your tongue darts out, but before you make any physical contact, Santiago stops you.

"Not yet," he says.

His arm curls around the front of your chest, pulling you back again with an expression of pure schadenfreude.

"I'm gonna have to have you ask nicely for it, sweetheart. Ask Frank to let you suck his cock."

Frankie nearly rolls his eyes at Santiago. The man just has to rub it in doesn't he? Insufferable brat.

If he was Santiago, he'd sleep with one eye open tonight.

Still for all his teasing, it could be so much worse. Not to defend Santiago and his idiocy. But in comparison to what you had in mind for the man, Santiago is going more than easy on you. This is mild for the man.

You must know it too, because you don't protest. Barely even hesitate as you gaze up at Frankie, through your thick lashes, dutifully and do as you're told.

"Please can I suck your cock, Francisco?"

Shit.

Excitement pings across his nerves at your words.

This is a ridiculous situation. Frankie shouldn't get turned on.

But he can't help himself. not when he feels the warmth of your breath exhale gently over his cock and the stupid thing immediately stirs into rapt attention.

Your hands reach over, fingers wrapping around his girth. Frankie doesn't even get a chance to savor it before Santiago is already grabbing for your wrists.

Cock-blocker.

"Nuh, uh," Santiago admonishes. "No hands".

You don't fight him on it. Your hands withdraw to your sides and you keep them there obediently, as you lean down the rest of the way, until your soft gorgeous lips press down against Frankie's quickly hardening cock.

Heat spears through his stomach at your touch.

Soft and almost chaste, your lips linger on his cock and it has Frankie immediately swelling to full hardness, until he can feel it twitching against your soft cheek.

Your tongue darts out, the pink tip gliding along a protruding vein as you pamper his cock with your full attention. Lapping, sucking and kissing at the spot with a quiet moan before you finally move along and slip the head of his cock between your lips.

Dizzying pleasure punches through him and for a brief second, even sat on the bed, Frankie thinks he might pass out from the overwhelming sensation. His mind is in the process of drifting and floating out of his body and away from the room. The only thing that still keeps him tethered to consciousness is Santiago's voice. The gentle mocking praise that spills from the man's filthy mouth.

"Isn't our sweet girl good?" Santiago asks him. "Doing such a good job isn't she?"

Frankie wants to say yes. But his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and he's gone dumb with pleasure to the point that he's forgotten how to speak.

In front of him, Santiago is having the time of his life (because of course the bastard is). There is a sly smile on his lips as that clever hand of his palms the small of your back. He traces the length of your spine until his hand disappears under the edge of your panties.

It doesn't take much detective work for Frankie to guess what Santiago is doing to you as you moan keenly around his cock.

"Look at her isn't she so pretty sucking your cock, Frank?"

For all that the man keeps coddling you with his words, cooing and hushing you with a soothing cadence, Santiago doesn't show you much leniency. His hand isn't stopping, even as you whimper and shake from his touch. He doesn't let up.

Even from Frankie's obscured view from the bed, he can see Santiago's fingers working into you. Finding every perfect angle that has tears stinging in the corner of your eyes until they gaze up pleadingly at Frankie with a wet glossy sheen.

Fuck, you're so fucking pretty like this.

"So fucking perfect for us. I think my only criticism is she gets so easily distracted", he teases as your hips cant up to chase his hand, for Santiago to give you more.

All Frankie can manage is a desperate groan in return. His head tilts back as the overwhelming sensation washes over him. Hips canting deeper into your mouth to have more of your lips, your tongue, more of… anything that you are willing to give him.

Your throat protests at the thick intrusion, swallowing in fits around Frankie. You whine, trying to pull back but Santiago is there pushing you forward with another encouraging string of praise.

Frankie can see the man work his fingers deeper into you and your body is wracked in another series of shivers, mouth parting until his cock slip out. You try to cover your mouth with your hand to stop a moan that breaks out, but Santiago's hand immediately shoot out to grab your wrist again to secure it to your side.

"That won't do. Put your pretty mouth back on Frank's big cock sweetheart."

"Santiago," you protest throwing him a menacing glare, a second away from telling him that it's his fault to begin with.

"Whatever I say," Santiago reminds you, parroting your own taunting words from before. "Those were the terms."

You bite your lip with a pout that is all too similar to Santiago.

In moments like this, Frankie is reminded of the closeness of the two of you. How inextricably intertwined you two are having grown up together. Two sides of the same stubborn, competitive coin. And god he loves both of you.

Swallowing your bruised pride, you bend over again, parting your lips to put your mouth back on his cock.

Heat spears through him until his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. The last thing he sees before they do is Santiago's eyes gazing back at him.

Even behind closed eyes Frankie can't get away from it. Santiago's sweet and murmured praises as he talks about how good you are. How pretty you look. In the dark it's easy for the lines to be blurred enough that Frankie isn't entirely sure who Santiago is directing the praise at anymore. And that makes it even better.

When Frankie opens his eyes again, blinking away at the watery edges of his sanity, Santiago is right there.

One hand palming languidly at his own cock as he observes Frankie and you.

He smiles at Frankie, holding the eye contact before he moves to position himself behind you, gripping at your hips. Cock lined up and nudging against the cleft of your ass, taking his sweet fucking time like he's putting on a show for Frankie's benefit to make sure he catches every single detail. Then he pushes forward, into you.

You gasp at the new intrusion, hands flying to Frankie's hips to keep yourself steady as Santiago thrusts forward. The momentum forces your entire body further onto Frankie's cock.

It's a struggle for you to keep your mouth on him and it's a maddening sensation for Frankie. The way your tongue darts out, desperately licking and sucking around the tip of him as best as you can. All the while the man is taunting you with unrestrained glee in his tone.

"It's not too much is it cariño? You can do it. You can take me and Frankie both can't you? Be our good girl, don't stop. Keep going."

And fuck, you don't stop. Your mouth envelops the length of his cock. inch by inch as Frankie watch in delirious fascination as the thick girth disappears between your lips.

You take in so much of him, Frankie has a momentary thought of how you even manage to fit it. Then he feels himself hit the back of your throat.

Christ, Frankie's not particularly religious but he's pretty sure he sees heaven as his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Still you continue, past your limits, eyes watering as you swallow desperately around him.

"Good girl. Such a good fucking girl," Santiago repeats, as he grinds his hips into you.

His hand rests on your back, sweeping your hair to one side until your neck is bare. Then he leans over, his chest pressed along your back and presses a kiss onto your nape.

It's such a sweet gesture, completely at odds with what the man is doing to you in this moment. Then his hips come to a still, an indicator that Santiago is well on his way to implement phase two of whatever devious plan he has for the three of you tonight.

Because Frankie knows Santiago. Better than you know Santiago sometimes, it seems. He knows him well enough that what has transpired so far is just the appetizer for what's to come.

That's just Santiago. Always a step ahead of everyone else. Always an opportunist to the core, his mind is always considering and assessing and re-evaluating the situation for changes.

It's where you lose to him. You get too honed in and narrow minded, your eyes too focused on the prize in front of you. Your mind always too occupied with thoughts of winning the battle while Santiago has his eye on the horizon to emerge victorious from the war.

In front of him, Santiago's hand comes to your cheek cupping you gently as he pulls you off Frankie's cock to your confusion.

"So good for us. You wanna claim your prize hmm?" Santiago murmurs in your ear ominously.

With one arm wrapped around your front, the man lifts you up and guides you to your feet. Then he's maneuvering you onto the bed, arranging you to his liking until you're sat in Frankie's lap.

He curls his fingers around Frankie's cock, like it's a trophy for you to claim and guides Frankie to your slick and waiting entrance, until the blunt tip is nudging against your wet clit.

That clever hand steady at the small of your back, in a steady but firm pace until the entirety of Frankie's cock is fully sheathed inside you.

Fuck.

You feel so fucking good. Warm, slick and so fucking perfect. Frankie thinks he's going to lose his mind with it.

His brain cells are melting with pleasure inside his skull and he can barely pay enough attention with the way you're clutched so tightly around his cock to register that Santiago isn't next to you anymore. He's gone off somewhere, fuck knows where, as Frankie palms the soft curves of your hips to press you firmly down on him, pushing as deep as he goes.

Frankie can't stop long enough to think much else, except for the sweet pace that you're rocking forward on his cock with. He's lost in it. Drunk and inebriated on the way you feel in his arms as he rocks you up and down on his cock that he barely even notices when Santiago's back again.

This time with a bottle of lube in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Of course, that's where the clever bastard went.

"San--" you start, but your voice is cut off at the long drag of Frankie's cock inside of you as he thrusts up again.

Santiago's smile spreads even wider, predatory. "What sweetheart? Don't you want your reward?"

Frankie can hear the click of the bottle, two seconds before he registers the way that Santiago's hand slips between your legs again, and then he fucking feels it. The pressure of Santiago's finger as he presses inside of you, and fuckfuck--shit! It knocks the fucking breath out of Frankie's lungs.

The sound you make is the sweetest fucking thing that Frankie's ever heard. It's needy and desperate. It echoes in his head and he never wants it to stop. Wants to record it so he can replay it a thousand times over.

"You did so well," Santiago says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.

"You won the game tonight. Fair and square. I'm just here to give you your hard-earned prize."

Even though Frankie can't see it, he can feel it. The rigid heat of Santiago's cock nudging at your ass, inches from Frankie's cock.

"This good cariño? You want me inside you too hmm? Tell me how you want it," Santiago demands.

But there's no way you can answer the man coherently.

You're an absolute trembling, shaking mess. Can barely form a word and much less a sentence. You just keep nodding, as you keep moving up and down on Frankie's cock with a stuttering "ye-yes."

And that's not enough for the bastard

"Yes what, sweetheart?" Santiago teases.

You sob, knowing fully well you won't be able to give Santiago what he wants in this state.

But he doesn't ease up. "Try again," he says.

"Both," you try, struggling. The word panting and out of breath. "I want-- f-fuck!" It's such a high pitched sound, you practically sound like a damned squeaky to. "Please, please," you cry, tears brimming in your eyes.

That smug bastard likes that, smiling and humming as he rubs the side of his jaw along the back of your neck, scraping his prickly five o' clock shadow against your soft skin until goose bumps form in its wake.

"Ple--please, San--I want--"

"Greedy girl," Santiago rasps out. He moves back for a brief moment, and you squeak in alarm that he's gonna leave. Instead he thrusts forward and fuck, fuckFUCK!

Shit. Frankie can't breathe.

There are bright sparks in his vision. Blood rushes to his head and for a moment Frankie isn't sure if he's going blind or having a seizure.

It's electrifying, a sweet burn that zips through Frankie's spine.

The blood thrashes and swirls inside his ears. It makes every noise around him distorted, like he's under water and drowning in you.

In the far off distance, he thinks he can hear Santiago groan brokenly against your skin. Whatever bravado was there before is all but gone in his voice now.

You're so fucking tight. He can feel Santiago through you. Can feel the way your perfect cunt is clutching onto every inch of his cock... and Santiago's not even all the way inside yet.

He doesn't know if you can fit more. Everything feels tight and overwrought and so so so much. His brain is so overloaded on sensation, it takes him a second to register that both him and Santiago have stopped moving.

None of you are speaking, and Santiago isn't teasing anymore, seemingly at loss of words now.

Santiago hisses out a breath between gritted teeth. His fingers gripping into your hips until it dents the soft flesh as the man tries to hold on by his literal fingernails.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're so tight. Relax for me okay?"

And you're trying to. Frankie can tell that much. You really are. It's not like you're doing this on purpose. It's real fucking easy for Santiago to ask you to relax when Santiago's never had to try to fit two cocks inside his body.

On top of that, while Frankie's never liked to brag, he's self-aware enough to know his own size and how he's a lot to take.

Frankie's hand comes to the small of your back, stroking it to provide you with comfort in the best way he can manage in the circumstances.

"It's ok baby, it's okay. We got you," Frankie murmurs against your skin.

Behind you, Santiago's eyes are squeezed tightly shut. An expression of bliss and torture all blended together. "I'll go slow," he chokes out. "I always do don't I? Let me open you up and make you feel good,"

His voice has gone sweet and indulgent. There's nothing mocking about it now. Just pure unadulterated fondness.

Whatever game he was playing before has ended now. Frankie knows that all Santiago wants in this moment is for you to feel good.

But you're too out of it to notice Santiago's defeat and your own outright victory.

You crane your head back towards Santiago with an indignant glare, no doubt to start off what will be a round of bickering between you and the man.

And that's the last thing Frankie wants in this moment, for either of you.

And maybe Frankie's an opportunist too. Maybe he's just as bad as Santiago. Because he quickly cups your cheek, guiding you back towards his lips to cut off any words you might have for Santiago.

His other hand, moves down to the front of your stomach, sliding his palm down along the inside of your thighs until his fingers can draw along the wetness of your folds, pressing light circles against your clit.

You try to escape it, oversensitive and overstimulated. You try to press back only to be met by Santiago's firm chest caging you in, pushing you forward and back into Frankie hand.

You shake and spasm in between them. Tears brimming in the wet sheen of your eyes.

Frankie's barely done anything to you and, god you're already close somehow.

He can feel it. The rise in the pace of your breathing, the thrum of your heart beating against your chest like your very heart is trying to escape from your ribcage as your impending climax builds and builds and builds from within you.

You come with a defeated whimper into his mouth. To Santiago's rasped groan in your ear and Frankie's low moan into your mouth. Your orgasm cascades over you as you shiver in his arms and squeeze tightly around them both.

Everything is a pleasant buzz thrumming in his veins as he can sense how all of you are unwinding. Your body melting in his arms, pressed between him and Santiago as you are.

They let you recover. Let you calm down. The only movement between them, is Santiago lips dragging against your hairline fondly as if to console you.

"That good baby? Think you ready for us now?" Frankie asks.

You're still swimming in the afterwaves of your pleasure, but you nod drowsily in reply.

Santiago continues to press open mouth kisses against your cheek and jaw, before he moves back to give you space.

You whine, a little bit panicked at the sudden movement. Your hand clings onto Santiago's wrist and the man immediately stills for you.

"Stay," you plead.

"Not going anywhere sweetheart," Santiago says, there's no hint of teasing this time. No lingering bluster of pride or a need to one up you.

"I'm staying right here."

It's soft and loving.

The very same tone in his voice he held when he was gazing out at the rain on the balcony.

Frankie had a hard time placing it when he heard it the first time, but he recognizes it for what it is now.

Contentment... It's a tone so foreign on Santiago but it suits him so well. If he can, then for the rest of his life Frankie wants to make sure the man gets to keep it.

Raising one hand to the back of Santiago's neck, Frankie cups his hand over the old-worn surgery scar as he reels the man closer and seals his mouth over Santiago's.

His lips are soft and pliant against Frankie's own. Then his mouth parts with a sweet little hum that sounds all too similar to the gorgeous whines you've been making all evening.

Outside the rain doesn't stop. It rains for the whole of that week.

But Santiago was right. There are worse things in the world than being cooped up in a room with the two people you love the most.

I don’t have a tag list. 😅 Please follow astroboot-writes and turn on notifications for writing updates! 🥰

Author's note: We're baaaaaaaack! I know it's been a hot minute since we got some proper porn with these three! It's also the first time in months I've written proper porn so I may be rusty. Thank you for your patience everyone while I was off lusting for tall spidermen.

#pedro pascal #oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

Text

I Want to Do What Lovers Do With You.◦○˚♡.˚ₓ

Pairing | Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, P in V sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, praise kink, brief mention of uncomfy virginity loss (not to Eddie), brief mention of underage drinking, drug use, Eddie calls himself dumb a couple times, there’s maths talk early on I promise it’s only short.

Request | Concept. Reader has never gone on a date or anything before, they're not naive, they just haven't been interested in anyone. Eddie and reader have been crushing on each other for a while and when eddie half-jokingly asks them out they say yes. Reader being easily overwhelmed by the newfound affection and eddie having to get them used to it.

Word Count | ~4,000

A/N | So here's the thing. In hindsight I realise maybe you wanted virgin reader, and I didn't do that. I also didn't even write a date. However, I think I got the ~spirit~ of the request. I will definitely write virgin reader in the future, but I didn't do it here, sorry if that's what you were looking for. Reader is new to intimacy though, if that helps.

"Zero point seven." Eddie’s head snaps up from the calculator, waiting hopefully for the approving nods he’s been earning from you more and more.

"Mm-hmm,” you nod, pointing to the page of rough triangles you’d drawn out for him to practice. "Now remember, the cosine of the angle is equal to the adjacent, which we want, over the hypotenuse, which is twenty three, so..."

"I've gotta divide something now."

"Well, how about you write the equation down with what you have?"

"Shit," he sighs, leaning back in his chair. "That's just your nerdy way of telling me I gotta multiply."

You smile in spite of yourself, knowing that Eddie is the only person who has ever called you a nerd without any real malice. There's admiration, appreciation, in his tone somewhere, under the frustration.

"C'mon. Give it a try and then we can take a break, yeah?"

Eddie's face splits in a conspiratorial grin. “What sort of break are we talking here?"

"That depends on whether you answer correctly."

"Man. If only my real teachers knew how to motivate me like you. I'd probably have graduated early."

"Eddie. The cosine of the angle equals?"

"That’s just cruel. I’m trying to concentrate and you know your teacher voice gets me going."

You have to fight a nervous laugh, choosing instead to bite the inside of your lip and gesture to the paper with your head. Eddie sighs and brings his attention to the square lined notebook, twisting the pen round his fingers while he glances between the question and the calculator. You watch him pull his own plump lip between his teeth, hair falling over his shoulders when he leans down to stare at the numbers on the page the way he needs to do sometimes. He looks so sweetly determined your heart aches.

That's unique to him, too.

When you were twelve, you’d read teen romance novels and imagined yourself falling for someone the second you entered high school. Then you got there and boys were…exactly as they always had been. Sometimes friendly, sometimes cruel, but never very interesting. Your heart didn’t flutter, your knees didn’t shake.

Even when you lost your virginity, fumbling in the dark, head fuzzy with an early taste of alcohol, and it had been an endeavour of pure mediocrity. You expected it to hurt, but you wanted that hurt to feel like passion. Instead, it was an uncomfortable burn that had you gritting your teeth and avoiding wet kisses until he was done.

Luke Thompson would catch your eye in Physics years later, looking forlorn and longing.

Then there had been senior prom, something you had dreamt of when you were a pre-teen waiting for epic romance. You thought you probably would go, if you were asked. But when a smooth talking basketball player had sidled up to your locker, talking all kinds of slush about how he’d always thought you would get along but had never had the guts to ask you out, you’d weighed an evening of dancing awkwardly and pulling a strapless chiffon dress up to your armpits every twenty seconds against sitting comfy in your pyjamas and renting a good movie from Family Video.

You spent prom night gorging on microwave popcorn and falling asleep with Dune playing in the background.

You left for college, away from Hawkins and high school and boys whose parents knew your parents, and it allowed you one night stands without the pressure of seeing them in class every day after. Just the occasional awkward nod across a hallway, if you remembered them at all. Whatever they were, it was not love, or even affection. You were using them, and felt used in turn.

But now there’s Eddie.

When you were at school together, you moved in entirely different circles. Then you’d come back from your first year of college with fewer friends in Hawkins and a new interest in Mary Jane. You’d been standing in his trailer, fishing in your purse for a five dollar bill when he’d stopped you with, “hey, you’re kind of a nerd right?”

You blinked, raised an eyebrow. “There are seven hand painted Dungeons and Dragons miniatures to my right, Munson. You really wanna play this game?”

He grinned, a little surprised by the bite back. “Yeah, but a real nerd. You’re smart, I mean?”

“Not many people would admit to being stupid.”

“I do.”

You think that’s probably where it started. The ache for him. Eddie Munson, who you’d always dismissed as another boy with more confidence than he had any right to, stood there in his room, a sad but accepting smile on his face, and told you he thought there was something wrong with his brain.

“I mean, I never understand anything when I’m in class,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “And then whenever I think, maybe, I’m starting to get it, we move on to something else and I’m left sitting there like, hey, you’re not gonna go over that another couple times?” Eddie gave a defeated shrug. “I’m gonna fail again this year, I just know it.”

“Well, you don’t actually know that,” you’d tried, feeling guilty when he’d rolled his eyes at the meaningless platitude. “Okay, what, you want me to tutor you or something?”

“Yeah? I mean nobody smart enough at school would risk being seen with me. Wouldn’t be a problem for you though, right? You’re a college girl now, above that kind of stuff.”

“And the benefit to me would be?”

“Free bud? Or whatever else you’re into,” he shrugged, dimples appearing soon after as he leaned into your space, your heart beating in your ears. “I’ve heard you academic types struggle to stay away from the good stuff.”

So while your new friends from college are spending their long Summer in Key Largo, or camping in Joshua Tree, you are at home in Hawkins, driving most days to Eddie’s trailer to get him where he should be in Math, English, Science and Geography.

You are giving him more help than he’s paying you for, but it didn’t take you long to think of him as worth it.

Big brown eyes you have to get up close to appreciate, pretty pink lips always smiling when you’re around. He’s self deprecating but he blushes when you compliment and encourage him. Eddie calls you smart with adorable reverence and listens to your opinions. He’s funny and he’s talented and you want to hold his face in your hands and squish.

It’s like every embarrassing girly teenage crush you never had has been focused all on this one boy and fuck, you weren’t expecting it when you drove up to his trailer for the first time with a calculator in hand, but it’s barely been a month and you want him like you've never wanted anybody.

You didn’t mind touching people who knew better what they were doing than poor Luke from Physics, didn’t mind clashing teeth and your face pressed into sheets. You didn’t mind that they’d leave in the morning, or you would. You never wished them back. You never imagined holding their hand the way you think about holding Eddie's hand. Warm, big, soft in the palms and rough at the ends of his fingers, chunky rings you want to bring to your face and stare at.

You think so many things about Eddie you never expected, wonder endlessly about what you wish to know.

What is his favourite food? Could make it for him as he wants it? Does he like horror movies, or is that an assumption? Even if he doesn't, would he watch one with you anyway, let you cuddle into his side on his Uncle’s couch, jumping and laughing together? Would he want to drive you places, play the gentleman? Would he want to meet your parents? Get a house in the city? Adopt a dog or a cat? Go on dates and be sweet with each other well into your sixties?

What does Eddie picture when he thinks about his future? Are you there?

You wonder if he knows. No matter what he says, Eddie is not dumb, not even close. Surely he has to see that you’re giving more than you’re getting back.

“Sixteen point one.”

You flinch a little to be pulled from your thoughts, face warm while you check his work. Scratchy, messy handwriting, calculations done correctly. You smack your hands on your knees. “Break time.”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie grins, fingers waggling in the air as he stands to search for his metal lunchbox.

“You left it in the kitchen.”

Eddie pauses to give you a warm, thankful smile, hand coming to lay flat on the left side of his chest. “You always keep me right, sweet thing.”

You have a love-hate relationship with the flirting. It makes your palms sweat like nothing else, your stomach do something it has only ever done at the first jolt forward on a roller coaster, your heart pound in excitement even as it aches with worry. It's exhausting.

Eddie reappears at his door, hair flying out behind him as he glides over to you, settled on his bed. He settles in next to you, his long arm warm and in line with yours from shoulder to elbow. While he rolls a spliff on his side table, you pick at a new hole on the knees of your blue jeans. You scowl, thinking about how you’ll never locate a pair as good as these in Hawkins, thinking about driving to a city for the day, thinking about abandoning this place altogether, heading back to your college town where good stores sell quality jeans and whatever else you could want. Away from here, away from Eddie, who is beginning to torture you with his smiles.

And his touch.

Eddie grabs your hand from your knee to pass you the newly lit joint, leaving your skin aching to remember the feeling of his calloused fingers. You know his eyes are on your face when you take a drag, and you wonder helplessly if you look cute, or hot, or sexy in your college sweater and jeans, lips wrapped around rolled paper.

It's a new feeling, and you can't say you're enjoying it. Since spending all this time with Eddie, you’ve come to understand why other people had so much trouble getting their heads down at school. If you thought like this back then, endlessly pondering the prospect of being liked, desired, loved, you would never have got anything done.

“Hey,” Eddie says when he takes the joint back. “I have a question.”

“No, I don’t expect you to get back to trigonometry when we’re done.”

You hear the rushed breath from his nose, a little amused sound. “No question there. You lose all authority when you’re high.”

“Do not. I could make you study.”

“Nah,” he answers, eyes crinkling at the sides pleasantly, just like everything he does. “You get pretty docile. You’d let me do anything I wanted.”

His fingers brush yours at the next pass, a heated tingle running up your back and across your neck. Your mouth feels a little dry, and you lick your lips like it’ll help, thinking about all the implications of that sentence. “Not anything.”

Eddie has the good sense to blush then, but he quickly shakes his head and powers through. “What I was going to ask was, how come a girl like you is spending her Summer with me?”

You raise an eyebrow, settling back into his pillows to get comfy as your head begins to fuzz, trying to ignore the pleasant hit of his smell emanating from the squished fabric. “Were you smoking this before I got here? You asked me to tutor you.”

“Yeah, and God knows I need all the help you’re giving me,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “I mean, seriously, I feel like I have a real chance of crawling my way out next year. But what I- what I meant was, and tell me if I’m crossing a line here, sweetheart, how come you’re here, with me, and not road tripping with some college boys or whatever all your friends are doing right now?”

Your face gets hotter. “Does it matter?”

“Does it- yeah. Yes. It matters.”

A prickle of recognition crawls up your spine, stemming from his tone, the way he’s looking at you, how he’s sitting; tense against your side. In the past, you would have felt pure dread, mind working overtime to prepare the required explanation for a boy who was really looking for you to change your mind. Instead, there’s nerves, all along your body, but there is excitement, too. Butterflies zipping about in your stomach.

“Why?” You ask, passing the joint back, letting yourself freely enjoy the brief touch of his skin, now that you realise that’s allowed. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie blinks at you, his bottom lip shaking. “Well, if I’m being honest,” he starts, pausing to turn away from you and take a long drag like he needs a moment to think it through. Then he eyes you from the side, thumb flicking ash into a metal tray. “I guess the answer might save me from making a fool of myself? If you say that this is all an elaborate prank or I have a rich distant relative paying you to spend time with me or, I don’t know, that helping out super seniors will be good on your resume, then, then I’d accept it. And even this particularly dumb super senior would know not to ask a really, really dumb question.”

“You’re not dumb, Eddie.” You nudge his body with yours, head cottony, loose lipped. “I really, really wish you’d stop saying that.”

Eddie’s gaze moves to your face where you are leaning back on his pillows, watches the subtle turn of your head, rubbing your cheek against the cotton, the feel of it uniquely pleasant after a couple hits.

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to if you go out with me.”

It sounds like he wasn't even entirely aware he was speaking until he's done. Eddie's eyes widen, his face flushing pink.

“Is that you asking me?”

“Depends on whether you answer correctly”

Eddie smiles at the repetition, like he’s playing coy, like this is fun, but he is too expressive by half. His big eyes are searching, waiting, with a hint of resignation, to learn that he is fooling himself.

Eddie always came across as cocky to you, at school. Just like the jocks he hated, he was an overconfident boy. Even now you can picture him stepping up on cafeteria tables and declaring himself a rebel with about a million different causes. But here, alone with you in his room, Eddie makes himself vulnerable.

Your cautious heart calls out to his. Don’t worry, me too.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself not to look away. “I’d say yes, Eddie.”

You receive a classically Eddie slow blink, followed by a grin that screams every ounce of his joy and relief. His head tilts forward. “Shit. You’re serious?”

"If you are."

"Jesus- yes, I'm serious." Eddie nods emphatically, eyes wide like he’s worried you’ll take it back if he doesn’t establish how much he meant it. “We could get dinner? Or I’ll take you to the nice cinema in the next town? Or- or the lake, or I could show you the bar my friends and I play in-”

You gaze at him, butterflies erupting at the sight of his pleased smile, the way his hair moves with every excited tilt and nod of his head. This is new, and exciting, and scary.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ♡ ୧.˚ₓ

You stay in Hawkins until the end of Summer, until you have to go back to college and Eddie needs work for his final, final year at high school.

He sends you off with a worn Metallica t-shirt to wrap around a pillow and cuddle into, a buzzy, crackling recording on tape of his voice over guitar, the black ring from his right hand that would be a promise made too early if it was from anyone else.

You leave him with all the pens he chewed the tops of, hand written practice sheets for every class he’s taking, old notes on differentiation, centripetal force, the River Nile, searched for and retrieved from the back of closets in your parents house. You hope Eddie knows that this is you trying.

Across the months you spend in his arms with weather cooling and trees turning, followed by stolen weekends, every break from classes lasting longer than three days, you learn so many things about Eddie.

He eats boxed mac and cheese by the pot. When you boil up some pasta on your own, he shovels it down the same way, surprised when the rich homemade sauce leads to you rubbing his tummy all night and trying not to laugh while he groans out that every spoonful was worth the pain.

He likes all kinds of horror movies; psychological and slasher and comedy. Getting you under his arm while they play in his living room and covering your eyes without your permission during the scary parts becomes a particular joy for him.

“Eddie, get off!”

“No can do, sweet thing. Gotta protect you from potential nightmare material. That’s my job now.”

He loves driving you everywhere, loves the sight of you in his van, sorting through the tapes in his glove compartment.

“Mega…Death?”

“The world’s foremost thrash metal band. Great choice.”

He wants to meet your parents, but he’s scared of what they’ll think of him. Dog or cat, he doesn’t mind as long as it’s not a horrible little yappy thing. He wants to get out of this town forever, live in a city, or really anywhere but here, where he could afford a nice-ish place.

When he pictures his future, you are there.

“Course, I would stay in Hawkins if you wanted to move back here.”

You’re trying, all of the time. You want him more than anything, because this is different, this is special, but that’s also what makes it so difficult. You are used to pleasured touches followed by closing doors, and it has left you disarmed to the open way that Eddie loves you, the only way he knows how.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs to your cheek, the roll of his hips a steady, torturous rhythm, drawing long whines from the back of your throat. Eddie’s big hand covers your forehead, pushing sweaty stray hairs away, rubbing your eyebrow with his thumb. The other is tucked under your back, helping you to arch sweetly so the head of his cock can find the spot at the back of your pussy that claims you, makes you desperate for him, with each heavy thrust. His brown eyes are sympathetic to your whimpers, proud of you for taking everything he has to give, even when it feels like your heart will beat out of your chest. “It’s always just a little too much for my sweet girl, mm? Still not used to being touched right.” He sighs, gives you a little pout with shining eyes. “I left you waiting too long for me, didn’t I?”

“Eddie,” you cry, fingers digging into his back, arms and legs wrapped tight around him as if he might leave if you let him loose. It’s perfect like this, his body weighing down on yours. You are too warm, your lungs protesting the lack of space to expand, but you can feel Eddie’s skin against every part of you. Any time you want, you can reach up to tuck some of his hair back off his sweaty neck. You do, earning yourself a perfect Eddie smile and a kiss from soft lips. The taste of his mouth, familiar to you now, makes your body clench around him, arms and legs around his torso, your weeping cunt around his cock. Nothing is like this, nothing is so perfectly overwhelmingly right.

“Oh, I felt that,” he smiles, breath spreading across your face at his chuckle. “Remember the first time you let me inside you? Wanted to be bent over and fucked, like you’re used to, mm?” Your toes curl in embarrassment, wanting to hide your face from him but there’s nowhere to go with his gentle hand holding you in place. You are left with your watering eyes, his pretty face blurring until you just about manage to blink the tears away. “It’s better like this, isn’t it?” He presses kisses down your nose, across your cheek to the corner of your mouth, sighing happily. “It’s better when we make love?”

You seize up, crying out, your back arching further as if you could get any closer to him. Eddie fucks you through the desperate clenching of your cunt, each hit to the spongy nerves of your spot building your pleasure past what should have been its peak. Your hand drifts up his back, grasping his neck from behind, fingers flexing and pulling at his pale skin enough that there will be dark bruises there tomorrow.

At the heavy sob that falls from your mouth, Eddie lets you up, wrapping a hand around the back of your head to help you bury your face in his neck.

Eddie hums as you come down, hips moving in tight circles like he’s just trying to get deeper while you weep into his skin. Your lungs feel increasingly restrained, little gasping breaths between wails, still confined between Eddie’s body and the mattress. “C’mon,” he says, leaning down to kiss your temple, rubbing below your ear with his thumb. “Let me see you. Need your pretty eyes to make me come.”

You feel him twitch inside you when he settles you back into his pillows, blinking up at him, finally letting the tears fall. The first time Eddie made you cry like this, overwhelmed at the intensity of feeling for him and all he does to you, you were afraid he would slow down, that it would ruin it for him.

He’d licked the tears off your cheek and grunted through gritted teeth that nothing had ever made him so hot.

Eddie stares at you intensely now, mouth relaxed and open, letting out excited groans as his hips stutter, almost ready to fill you up. He could cum without your voice, like the others before him, but he is the first who deserves it.

“You treat me so well, Eddie,” you breathe, taking a shaky gasp at the sudden increase in the pace of his thrusts.

Eddie nods desperately, his bottom lip shaking. “‘M trying.”

“I know,” you nod in turn, grasping his face with your hands, whispering so he knows it is all only for him. “I’m so lucky, Eddie. You’re so good, so good. Better than anything when you make love to me.”

His lips find yours to kiss you, but you end up breathing in his final moan instead, feeling him fill you up right with pooling warmth. Your legs squeeze his back, your pussy gifting you another little peak, a grateful flutter for taking Eddie’s cum deep inside you.

Eddie drops entirely then, face pressed to the base of your neck. You groan a little, but allow yourself to caress his face, sweep his hair away from his sweaty forehead, hold it away from his heated neck. He presses a final wet kiss to your collar and rolls off you, finally allowing your protesting lungs the space to breathe properly.

It doesn’t last long. Without ceremony, your whole body is pulled towards him, leaving your face tight to his chest. It steals the fresh air of the room, replacing it with the humidity your bodies create this close together.

But it’s good. It’s better, because it smells like Eddie, feels like Eddie, and everything is better with him.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #my stuff

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 4

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: food's ready, come dish up guys

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), intercourse, dirty talking, unprotected sex, masturbation, mind speak sexting?, physical abuse, mentions of SA.

Word count: 6993

(all photos are from pinterest)

That night, after Rhysand reclothed me, we talked about the future and how Tamlin needed to know, before things got messy with Eris or before he finds out and flips. All I had to do now was wait for the opportune time, which never seemed to come as Tamlin and Tarquin had been having tension. It seemed that part of the Spring Court’s lands on the border were prime farming spots for some of the spices that the farmers in the Summer Court grew. Tarquin had asked Tamilin to purchase the land and of course when Tamlin said no things started to get messy. Tamlin would go out and negotiate daily, and everyday he would come home angry.

Tonight was no exception.

I was sitting in one of the tea rooms reading my book when I heard him come home. The front door slammed, shaking the house, and then his office door slammed even harder.

I flinched.

It has been like this for three days now. I looked at the clock on the wall and figured it was better for me to retire to my room with my novel for the night.

I barricaded my door just for safety and crawled under the covers lighting a candle so that I could pick up where I left off. The main characters had finally confessed their love for one another and things were starting to get steamy. My eyes flitted across a particularly hot line and I felt my toes curl without warning once again. I should’ve known I was going to feel a little tug at the bond, but I was unprepared for the taut pull Rhysand gave me.

Up late reading your dirty books mate?

“Yes, I just needed the distraction,” I replied.

Did you tell your brother yet?

I felt a pang of guilt, he had been waiting so dutifully for me to do so, and yet another day had passed where I was too scared, “I didn’t, he came home slamming doors and breaking vases again. I’m sorry Rhys.”

There’s no need to apologize. I want you to be safe after all.

“Thank you for understanding,” I say sweetly

Of course mate. Now tell me what in this book has you all riled up? He says and I can hear his smirk.

“A lady never kisses and tells,” I quip back.

Ahh yes but ladies also don’t let strange men eat them out in secret rooms at balls. He says coolly.

“Rhysand you little shit!” I laugh down the bond.

Come on my love, I’m dying to know what gets you off… Besides my tongue of course.

I roll my eyes and try to send the emotion down the bond, It’s nothing special really, he’s just fucking her, but he’s waited a while to do it so it’s extra steamy. I laugh.

Poor bastard, I know the feeling. Rhys chuckles and I feel arousal flood between my legs.

I can’t help but let my hand drift between my legs. Since Rhys touched me at the ball it’s all I’ve thought about (not that I would ever let him know). But suddenly the need for him has been so much stronger, I chalk it up to the mating bond strengthening, needing to be consummated. I let my hand dip between my panties and I try to keep my emotions from flooding the bond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I could get off on his words alone.

“Subtle Rhys,” I chuckle.

I don’t need to be subtle, I told you exactly how it was going to go down that night at the ball did I not?

My heart races and I let my finger on my clit speed up.

“I suppose you’re right,” I say.

Are you touching yourself darling? He purrs.

Shit.

“No,” I lie.

You’re a terrible liar and you always have been, he chuckles. I can feel you, my mate.

“Damnit,” I curse, pulling my hand from my panties.

Oh don’t you dare stop now, not when I’m currently fisting my cock.

The image of Rhysand laying on his bed, naked, glorious and pumping his cock sends a wave of arousal straight through me and I practically scramble to shove my hands into my panties.

Now tell me, are you playing with that beautiful little clit? The one I licked at the ball?

Oh I was so in for it with this man, I was so utterly and terribly fucked.

“Yes,” I admit quietly.

Then I am terribly jealous of those delicate fingers.

“Rhys,” I moaned back. It was all I could think about, him.

Slip a finger in that tight little cunt won’t you darling?

As stupid as it felt I did it, and god it felt good. Not as good as his felt, but it would have to do.

“It doesn’t feel as good as you,” I say, trying to play the game.

I hear him chuckle, No my dear they don’t and they never will.

“Are you close?” I ask, feeling my own orgasm coming.

Let me hear those little begs again and I will be, he drawls.

I know exactly what he means. After he feasted on me at the ball and I nearly jumped his bones afterwards. When he said he wanted to wait I pathetically let out a whine.

“Please Rhys, I need you.” I plead.

Fuck y/n, I hear him moan and it’s enough to make me hit my climax.

“Oh fuck!” I cry down the bond.

His own string of curses followed as he came himself and I could picture him lying there, chest sweaty and heaving, the aftermath of his orgasm all over him. It was almost enough to make me reach my hands down my panties again, almost.

“So mind sex? That’s your thing?” I taunt him.

A loud chuckle reverberates through my mind, No you’re my thing darling.

“I’m flattered,” I laugh.

A moment of silence passes and my chest continues heaving as I crawl further under the covers and blow out my candle. Romance book long forgotten. I sit in the quiet for a little longer waiting for Rhys to say something, until I finally speak up.

“Are you still there?” I ask timidly.

Always, simply catching my breath. How was your day today?

“Boring, I don’t really have any friends here except my ladies maids and they are all terrible snoops. Tamlin has them in his back pocket.” I sigh.

Just wait till you meet Nuala and Cerridwen, they’re snoops too. He laughs.

“I can’t wait to,” I say.

I’m happy to finally hear you say that. He muses and I can practically feel his smile.

“Well I better get some sleep. If I plan on telling Tamlin tomorrow I’ll need my wits about me.” I sigh.

Goodnight darling, I love you.

There’s a hopefulness in his words. One I can’t meet. That phrase, ‘I love you’. I knew I should say it back. But I didn’t know what love meant. Didn’t know how it felt. I couldn't bring myself to return the sentiment.

"Goodnight Rhys," was all I could say.

The next morning I woke up and Tamlin had already left, which was a damn shame because I would’ve liked to have told him before he had gone to fight with Tarquin all day.

I paced most of the day in the tea room as I was beginning to grow antsy. Last night proved to me just how much I needed Rhysand, physically of course because of the bond. My skin was nearly sweating with need. I tried to read my book but it didn’t do much to help. I tried to go out and pick flowers for the dining table and it got me nowhere. To make matters worse it felt like Tamlin was gone for longer than usual as the darkness slid in, the moonlight shone, and all the lanterns and candles magically were lit.

I started pacing in the foyer waiting for him to arrive home. Maybe he was taking so long because he had finally reasoned with Tarquin. I thought to myself. But as the doorknob jiggled and a fiery looking Tamlin came in I knew how dead wrong I was.

“How was your meeting with Tarquin?” I asked, trying to seem sisterly, like that had ever won his affections.

“Awful! The stubborn brute wants to take part of my land and only give me 20% of its profits per harvest!” he yells storming through the hall. I follow him.

“20% isn’t bad, maybe you could show him what a generous High Lord you are by accepting the offer,” I chirped enthusiastically.

“Are you out of your mind?” he whirls to look at me. “20% is cheap sister, not that you would ever have the mind for money. All you know how to do is spend mine.”

“Tamlin, that's not fair and you know it.” I reason.

“What does it matter anyways,” he rolls his eyes and begins storming off again. “You’ll be worth your weight in gold once you marry Eris and become his consort.”

Fire boiled in my veins, “I already told you Tamlin, I don’t want to marry Eris. God how fucking selfish and cruel do you have to be to sell your sister off to a monster?!” I scream and as the words leave my mouth I already regret saying them. I had never been so bold in my life, at least not with Tamlin.

I don’t even have time to react before I feel a harsh slap across my face knocking me to the ground. “YOU ARE MY SISTER AND A WOMAN IN THIS COURT!” Tamlin screams at me. He picks me up by my hair, “and you will not question how I rule it.”

Tears prick my eyes as the skin of my cheek burns. Tamlin releases my hair dropping my body to the ground and I’m left in a heap of tulle and tears as he slams his door.

Are you okay? My mate calls into my mind.

I press my cold hand to my cheek, “yeah I’m fine.”

No you’re not, you're hurt.

“I’m fine Rhys, it’s not bad,” I say, pulling myself up off the floor and winnowing to my room.

What happened?

I sigh, knowing he’ll badger me until he gets an answer. “I tried to get Tamilin to make amends with Tarquin so that he would be in a good mood and he hit me.”

He hit you? I could hear him growling, feel the anger down the bond.

“It’s really fine Rhys, I’m in my room now and I’m safe.” I say trying to calm him down.

I’m going to fucking kill him y/n. I’m coming to get you right now. I’m not letting you stay there another minute.

“Rhys please! Stop and be reasonable. If you barrel in right now it’s going to piss Tamlin off even more. He could hurt me or worse. We have to be civil about all this.” I reason with him.

Fine, but no more after this y/n. I can’t stand it any longer. It’s killing me from the inside out. To know you’re in that horrible place. When you could be safe and warm here.

“I promise I will figure this out, I just need time,” I assure him.

I know you will, my beautiful strong mate.

“Tamlin hurry up, we're already late!” Lucien screams from the foyer. It was another council day and I had hoped that Tamilin would finally be able to reason with Tarquin.

Yesterday I went into town to shop for a new dress, it seemed I had exhausted all my other purple ones and I wanted more. I picked out a dress that was a far darker purple than any I had worn before. But it seemed fitting, seemed more Rhysand.

“Let’s go,” Tamilin ordered entering the room in a huff. He peered at the dress I was wearing, “Purple again? I’d think you’ve grown tired of it by now.”

Was this really his method of trying to make up for hitting me and yelling at me? Giving me a somewhat backhanded compliment?

“Viviane said that it was my color,” I replied, not entirely a lie.

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lucien and winnowed us to the Night Court.

I had no clue what to expect from the Night Court. I had never been before today. I had only ever heard stories. Stories of its darkness and its monsters. When we arrived I almost couldn’t believe that this is where Rhysand lived.

The large city under the mountain had a darkness to it, while faelights bobbed all around, it didn’t hide the darkness in the shadows that lingered. The city under the mountain was a metropolis, and it was terrifying with its large spires all around. Every surface is carved with lovely, hideous artwork: figures dance and fornicate, beg and revel. I was surprised Tamlin even allowed me to come with him today.

We enter into a dimly lit chamber where all the Lords are already seated and waiting for us to arrive, Tamlin apologizes and chalks it up to me taking too long to primp, a lie of course. As my eyes scan the room I see only two chairs open and one happens to be next to Rhysand. I try to hide the smirk on my face as I take the seat next to him, forcing Tamlin to take the other one.

You look ravishing as always. Croons Rhyand.

“Thank you, the dress is new,” I smile.

New and purple? You flatter me mate. He smirks.

I chuckle down the bond, “Don’t flatter yourself too much, Vivianne said she liked me in purple as well.”

Well then I’ll have to thank Viviane later. He smiles.

The council begins and just like I figured Tamlin and Tarquin laid into one another right away. All the other Lords but Rhysand and Kallias chimed in to solve the issue, but the winter and night court Lords seemed content to watch it all play out and I didn’t blame them. It took everything in me to not turn to the side to look at Rhys. His presence was so commanding especially in his own court and I had missed his face, those eyes, so much.

I felt a large hand being placed over my own under the table.

You’re going to get me in trouble. I gripe at Rhys but flip my hand so I can hold his back.

Shh no one can see, I just wanted to feel you.

Eventually the fighting dies down as the Lords end up forcing Tamlin to accept the deal Tarquin has offered and I try not to smile as my brother’s pissed off face. Turns out I was right and 20% isn’t such a low number after all. Rhys lets go of my hand to stand and address the room.

“I think we’ve had more than enough political talk, why don’t we disband.” he states, and it sounds like his voice booms off the walls of the room.

A murmur of agreement fills the room as the sound of obsidian chairs scratch the stone below, signaling that the lords are getting up. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I feel my stomach pit, is Rhysand stupid? But when I turn around I’m met with the raking stare of Eris Vanserra.

“Hello my little fox, I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment?” He asks, and I can practically feel Tamlin staring daggers into the side of my head.

“Yes of course my Lord,” I smile taking his arm.

We promenade outside the council meeting room and into the hallway. I look up to find faint faelight glowing from large chandeliers, the walls are filled with tapestries and statues of people fucking and begging just like in the rest of the city. Large pillars shoot up from the aisles supporting the large room and I still wonder how Rhys could possibly live here.

“I’m sorry for taking you away so soon, I know that you love to talk to Viviane, but I just had to see you,” Eris says.

“No apologies necessary,” I reply, still taking in the sites around me.

“I know that your brother and my father are still negotiating the terms of our marriage but I couldn’t wait to give you this,” he says before pulling a long black box out of his pocket, and opening it up.

Inside lies a rather large and beautiful necklace. A huge golden crystal is attached by a string of glittering diamonds. If it was given to me by anyone else I would’ve thought it beautiful, but I knew it’s true meaning, it’s true purpose. It wasn’t just a piece of fine jewelry, it was a collar, meant to show everyone I belonged to Eris now. I took a mental deep breath.

“Oh Eris, it’s beautiful!” I gasp, running my hands over the chain.

“I knew you would like it,” he smiled. “Here allow me to help you put it on.”

I turn around and feel him place the heavy jewel around my neck. The weight of it already making me feel shackled. His fingers dust over the nape of my neck fastening the clasp. He kisses my shoulder when he’s done and I feel his hands gently turning me around so he can see it on me.

“It looks beautiful on you, like it was made for you,” he smiles, hand caressing my face.

“I love it, thank you,” I say, trying to hide my discomfort.

“I promise you that when we are officially engaged you will have even bigger jewels,” he smirks, stepping forward even closer, causing me to step back. “And when we’re married even bigger jewels,” He croons and my back hits one of the many pillars. “But I’ll save the biggest and most expensive ones for when you bear me our first son.” he smirks and there’s nothing I can do to stop him from crashing his lips on mine.

Eris kisses me hungrily and needily as my hands fly to the pillar my back is pressed on, any little movement to keep him farther away from me. His hands drop to wander my waist and I feel the entire room shudder causing pieces of dust to fly up everywhere. Eris pulls himself off of me.

“What was that?” I ask afraid.

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check,” Eris replies and he leaves me to run back to the council chambers to confer with the rest of the Lords.

I step forward from the pillar and take a deep breath. I start to follow Eris back to the council room but then my skin starts to buzz again and I stop in my tracks. Rhysand’s hands graze up my arms from behind me as he leaves gentle kisses on my neck.

“That was you wasn’t it?” I smirk.

“Maybe,” he smiles into my skin. “He had a lot of nerve kissing my mate in my court.”

“To be fair he didn’t know,” I giggle.

“I don’t care, he was lucky I didn’t rip his head off,” he says, continuing to kiss my neck.

“This place is terrifying, how do you live here?” I laugh.

“I don’t, this place is just where I entertain other Lords,” he explains, kissing my neck still.

“Then where do you live?” I ask, reaching up to press my hand against his face, encouraging him not to stop.

He smiles against my skin, “I want you to tell your brother that you’re staying with Viviane again tonight.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because, I finally have you here, in my court. I want you to stay here with me, even if it’s just for one night.” he emphasizes his statement with a long lick up my neck that has my toes curling in my shoes.

I turn to look at him, “are you sure my brother won’t find out?” I ask, finally looking into those violet eyes I had been missing.

“I’m positive,” he smiles and his eyes glance down to the necklace. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”

I roll my eyes, “Eris just gave it to me. He said it was a gift but it feels more like a collar.” I say straightening my shoulders in discomfort from the weight of it.

Rhysand doesn’t say anything, he just reaches a hand around the back of my neck to unclasp the necklace. I immediately feel the weight fall off into his hand and he looks at it before chucking it somewhere in the room.

“Rhys!” I laugh.

“Much better now we can see your pretty neck,” he smirks before leaning in to kiss me. I practically melt into his touch.

Because the rest of the Lord ganged up on him, Tamlin left early and just like Rhys asked, I told him I would be staying with Viviane tonight. Tamlin didn’t even bat an eyelash. It wasn’t long until the last couple, Kallias and Viviane, left. I turned to see Rhys staring at me from across the room with that playful smirk I always wanted to kiss off his face.

“Are you ready to go mate?” he asked, holding out his arm to mine.

I took it eagerly, “To go where?” I asked earnestly.

“To Velaris,” he smiled brighter than I had ever seen him smile before and before I could question further he winnowed us away.

When the shadows cleared I was in a house. A lush, beautiful and homey house. Thick red wool carpeted the floor, and the walls were made of a rich wood. Comfy chairs and chaises were littered about and a warm fire sprung to life. It looked lived in and loved compared to the mansion in the Spring Court.

“So this is where you live?” I ask taking in my sights.

“Yes it is. The place we just were? We call it The Court of Nightmares, that’s where we conduct business to keep up appearances for other courts. But this is where I live, Velaris, the city of starlight.” he explains watching me take it all in.

I look out a large window and see the golden fae lights of the village beyond. It sits below a large snow capped mountain. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and it already feels like home.

“What do you mean we?” I ask. Before I can answer two large crashes come from the terrace outside causing me to jump.

“I mean my cousin Mor, my second in command and of course Cassian and Azriel.” he says nodding to the doors where the two Illyrians from the ball are waltzing in. “Y/n this is Azriel, “ Rhysand nods to the one with the shorter hair and Azriel waves. “And this is Cassian.” he nods to the one with the longer hair.

“Ahh yes the one that bites,” I muse.

“Only sometimes,” Cassian chuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n,” he says, holding out his hand.

I shake it and my whole hand nearly disappears in his just like Rhysand’s. “The pleasure is all mine, I’ve never met an Illyrian before.” I say looking over his large wings.

“Then you’re missing out for sure,” he says looking at Azriel who just rolls his eyes.

“Your wings are magnificent, would you mind if I…” my words fall short as I hold up my hand.

“Touch them?” Cassian asks. “Go right ahead y/n,” he smirks, eyes flitting to Rhys.

I reach my hand out to graze over the material of his wings, they feel like leather. They are rugged to the touch and I can tell that they have seen many years of battle. I hear what sounds like the snapping of leather behind me. I turn around and my jaw nearly hits the floor. There before me, Rhysand stands with his own Illyrian wings.

“I have wings too you know,” Rhysand says as he tilts his head.

Cassian erupts into laughter, “Feeling a bit jealous there Rhys?” he jokes.

Rhys just rolls his eyes and pulls a hand out of his pocket and offers it to me. I take his hand, still too stunned to find Rhys with wings to even speak.

“We’ll see you two later, I’m going to give y/n the rest of the tour,” Rhysand drawls leading me towards the stairs.

“Goodnight you two,” Cassian drawls before taking off with Azriel.

“I didn’t know you had wings” I say, still bewildered staring up at them.

“It’s not really something I make a spectacle of. I only have them out when I’m going to use them, otherwise they tend to get in the way,” he explains, leading me up the stairs.

“So you can shift back and forth between having them and not having them?” I ask.

“Essentially, yes,” he says and shifts back to his wingless form just to prove the point.

“So what was the deal with me touching Cassian’s wings? Is that like taboo or something?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up remembering how Cassian smirked at Rhys when I asked.

“Illyrians can feel through their wings and are known to attack first and ask questions later if they are touched without invitation. It was basically like if you ask if you could touch his abs,” Rhysand chuckles.

“Oh,” I said, my heart stopping. “Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad, Cassian loves teasing me. He let you touch his wings just to watch my face as you did so,” Rhys laughed again, opening a door to our left. “This is one of the guest rooms.”

I look around at the somewhat dark room, the same lush carpet coats the floor along with the same wooden paneling. It was quaint and perfect. Rhys continued leading us down the hall to show me another guest room which was much like the first just a little bit bigger. He explained that they were the rooms Cassian and Azriel slept in for Solstice.

“And this is my room,” he explained before opening the door to the last room in the hallway.

The room is much larger than the other two, the huge bed was made with dark black and purple blankets and pillows. I heard the door close as I continued to explore. The bed sat next to a balcony that had the same view of the living room, the village lit with fae lights and the snowy mountain. To the left was a large bathroom with a bathtub, large enough I realized, to fit Rhysand’s wings.

“Your room is-”

“Our room. This is our room now.” he says and I turn to meet his gaze. “I’ve waited so long to see you standing here. In Velaris, in the townhouse, in this room.”

“And what is it that I’m normally doing in this room, Rhys?” I smile, faking my innocence.

“Well,” he drawls, stepping closer to me. “It goes a little something like this,” he muses before placing a hand on my cheek and kissing me.

This kiss is different, less heated than all the others we shared before it. It holds all the passion of what’s to come, what we both know is coming. His hands slide to my waist and I let out a small moan and I can feel Rhys trying not to smile. My hands tangle in his hair pulling him closer as I feel my legs hit the mattress. He pulls me closer to him so I don’t fall and I feel him turn me around so my back is facing him.

“Normally I would use my magic to take your clothes off,” he says voice low, his hands unlacing the corset in my dress. “But I want to take my time with you tonight,” he continues undoing the last lace.

I nearly melt at his words, but I feel the dress start to fall and I grab the top of it to keep it from falling down. The dress didn’t allow for any undergarments meaning I would be completely bare to him.

Rhysand places a kiss on my shoulder, “You’ve never let a man see you naked before have you?” he asks.

“No I haven’t,” I say shyly. I feel a moment of fear but turn around and let my dress fall to the floor in a giant pile of purple chiffon. Rhysand’s eyes rake down my body and I move to cover my breast with my arms as pink tints my cheeks.

“Don’t you dare cover those perfect breasts mate,” he says gently, pulling my arms away. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky to call you my mate.” he kisses me again, absolving any fear I have as I feel his hands finally roam my naked body. I push him away lightly.

“I want to see you too,” I say breathlessly looking into his eyes that are suddenly a darker shade of violet than they were before.

“As my mate commands,” he smirks, standing back to take off his clothes. His eyes locked on mine, never breaking eye contact until he stood before me completely bare.

I let my eyes rake down on him. His body ripples with strong and lean muscles, the upper part of his chest and shoulders are covered in swirling tattoos. My eyes dare to travel lower over his abs to his straining cock. All I can think to myself is there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me.

Rhysand chuckles, stepping towards me, “I promise it will fit mate.”

“Shit I said that out loud?” I curse ducking my chin in embarrassment.

“No you didn’t, but your thoughts were so loud you might as well have,” he laughs tilting my chin up to meet his eyes.

My eyes drift down to his chest again and I finally let my hands wander the muscles on his chest. His skin soft and smooth under my fingers, I run them up his abs, over his pecs, across his shoulders and down his arms earning a low groan from him. I take his hands and place them on my waist, throwing my own over his shoulders and as I look into his eyes the words just tumble out of me.

“I love you Rhys,” I breathe.

“You don’t have to say it just because I said it the other day,” he says almost sadly.

“I’m not. I love you Rhysand,” I smile.

A smile spreads across his face, “I love you too mate.”

His hands pull me closer to him and I can feel my breasts pressing against his chest as he seals our lips again. This time the kiss is more needy as I feel my heart rate pick up. His frame backs me up and I can feel his cock pressing into me making me practically moan into the kiss.

My legs hit the mattress again, this time he lets me fall onto the bed. I open my eyes and watch his eyes rake down me again, nothing short of a predatory gaze behind them. His knees hit the mattress and he crawls over me, caging me in with his arms. He kisses me deeply and begins to move his lips down my jaw and to my neck again. I can feel his restraint as he tries not to leave love bites all over me. His lips go lower and lower and my chest starts to heave in anticipation of what I think is next.

“Your breasts,” he says, kissing the top of each one. “Are the most beautiful pair of breasts I’ve ever seen. I should’ve worshiped them the moment that dress hit the floor.” He smirked.

He started kissing the underside of each breast, then the sides and then the tops again purposefully avoiding the one place I wanted his mouth the most, making me squirm.

“And these pretty pink nipples,” he says before finally taking one in his mouth and suckling.

“Oh fuck,” I breathe having my back arch into him. His other hand comes up to draw little circles on my other nipple.

“Dirty mouth mate,” he teases before resuming his menstrations.

My hands fly to his hair as I pull him closer to me needing more of him. Needing all of him.

“Wouldn’t want this one to think I don’t love it,” he smirks before sucking my other bud into his mouth.

“Rhys please,” I breathe tugging at his hair.

“So eager are we mate?” he says kissing down my body till he gets to my core. He skips over it and sits up, taking my leg and kissing my ankle. He draws a path of kisses all the way down my leg till he reaches the inside of my thigh. He gives me an evil grin before sitting up and beginning to do the same with the other leg.

“Ugh Rhysand!” I groan, causing him to chuckle.

“I told you I wanted to take my time mate,” he chuckles against my calf. “Was there a certain body part you were hoping I would kiss?” he asks suggestively.

“Your favorite part,” I muse.

“You cruel wicked thing. As if I could ever just choose one part of you to be my favorite.” he says, acting wounded, putting my leg down. He leans into my pussy and places a kiss there running a finger through my folds. “Though I will say that one of my top contenders is this pretty little clit.” he hums lowly before flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

“Ahh,” I scream, my hands going straight to his hair.

“Precisely why I love it. I love the little sounds you make when I lick it,” he growls before diving in to feast on me.

“Oh my gods Rhys!” I scream, grinding my hips into his face.

That’s right y/n I wanna hear everything. We’re not in Beron’s office anymore, scream for me mate. He says into my mind and I do.

I scream and writhe and moan. My eyes flit down to where his mouth is attached to my pussy. His darkened eyes look up at me watching the pleasure rake through my body. One of his hands comes from my hip and I feel his fingers tease my entrance before he slides one into me. His mouth continues suckling on my clit as his fingers curl to massage that spot inside of me that I didn’t know was there until he touched it at the ball.

Gods your pussy tastes so good. After we’re officially mated I promise to spend a whole night between your legs eating you out until you can’t move.

“Rhys!” I scream, his words my undoing as I cum on his tongue. He works me through my orgasm until my legs stop shaking and then he pulls his finger from me. He places a kiss on my clit one last time before moving up the bed. He watches me as he sucks all my leftover cum on his finger off.

I grab his neck and pull him down to kiss me again. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I can taste myself on him. My hands run down his back feeling the powerful muscles there, gods I could just sit here and touch him all day. He was as beautiful as I had pictured him that one night not too long ago. He was everything and he was mine.

“That’s right mate, I am yours,” he said between kisses. Clearly my thoughts we’re projecting again.

“And I am yours Rhys,” I breathe, and he takes a moment to study my face trying to read if I really mean it, like he thought the words would never leave my mouth.

“Mine,” he grumbles, connecting our lips again. “Beautiful and perfect and all fucking mine.”

I feel his cock nudging my entrance and I gasp. I want it, I want all of him, but I’m scared.

“Rhys I’m scared, I’ve never had sex before,” I say.

“Don’t worry darling I wasn’t going to push in yet. Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sweetly.

“Yes I’m ready,” I nod.

“Okay tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop right away okay?” He says, kissing my forehead.

“I will, I promise,” I assure him, cupping his cheek.

“Here we go,” he says and I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance and it’s enough to have a large wave of arousal flood between my legs once more.

He pushes his tip in and I start to feel the burn but I don’t say anything as he slowly continues to push in. I feel him stretching me and the mixture of pleasure and pain starts to take over my body. Once he’s nearly fully inside me I wince and he stops.

“Shh it’s okay, you’re doing so good my mate,” he coos, kissing my brow.

“I’m good now, keep going,” I breathe.

I feel him bottom out inside me and I scream in both pain and pleasure once more.

“Fuck y/n,” he groans, but he doesn’t move trying to give me time to adjust. I relish how full I feel with him all the way in me and I look down at his arms. His muscles are taught and his veins are nearly popping and I realize it’s taking everything inside of him not to pull his cock out and slam it into me. The thought of him taking me so rough puts butterflies in my stomach.

“Rhys please move,” I cry trying to rock my hips into him.

He pulls out a little and thrusts back in and I hold back my cry as he does it again. He starts to build up a good slow tempo and after a while the pain disappears.

“Fuck you’re taking me so good, you’re doing so good mate.” he groans trying to keep himself from losing control.

“Harder Rhys,” I whine running my hands through his hair.

“No I don’t want to hurt you,” he shakes his head watching his cock disappear inside of me looking for any hint of discomfort.

He’s being gentle, trying to make sure I feel good. But all I can think of are his whimpers and moans from when he stroked his cock a few nights ago, and how desperately I want to hear them again. How desperately I want my pussy to be the thing that draws them from his lips.

I grab his face and force him to look at me so that he can see how dead serious I really was, “Rhys I want you to fuck me,” I ordered him.

“Fuck y/n,” his eyes widened and I could see all resolve has left exit his body.

His hips thrusted into me harder and I strangled cry left my mouth as he continued to fuck me. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as my nails raked down his back, bringing those moans of his to the surface, I could’ve came right there.

“Fuck Rhys it feels so good,” I say blissfully.

“Gods mate how is your pussy so tiny and tight?” he groans into my neck fucking me harder. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

I feel his lips crash onto mine again, hips never faltering. I can barely keep our lips attached as he keeps pulling moans from me and all I can think is how utterly his I am.

“Say it again,” he grits out and I know exactly what he means.

“I’m yours Rhysand,” I hum.

“Mine,” he grunts fucking me even harder.

The new pace has me seeing stars as I grip onto his shoulders leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. I feel the ever familiar knot in my stomach growing and I’m moments away from cumming with his name on my tongue.

“Rhys I’m gonna cum,” I warn him and I can see the muscle in his jaw flicker.

“Me too. Cum with me mate,” he grunts before flicking my clit. I crumble the moment he flicks the sensive bud.

“OH GOD RHYS!” I scream digging my nails into his back again.

“Oh fuck y/n,” he groans, hips stuttering as he spills his seed into me.

We’re a heap of sweat and ragged breaths as he keeps himself propped up as not to crush me. My hands smooth back his hair and I leave sweet kisses on his brow.

“I love you so much Rhys,” I whisper in his ear leaving a kiss there. I mean every word, my soul so full of love for him that tears prick my eyes.

“I love you too y/n.” he smiles, pressing our lips together.

He sits up pulling out of me and I feel a breath escape my lips, disappointed at the sudden emptiness. He sits on his knees and I watch as he stares between my legs. His eyes light up in amusement.

“What?” I giggle sitting up a little on my arms.

“I’ve waited forever to have this view,” he smirks.

“What view?” I ask.

“You, naked, in my bed, with my cum dripping out of your pussy.” he muses, leaning over me again. “Totally and completely mine.” he smiles, kissing me again.

I hum in approval at his words and kiss him harder feeling his skin melt against mine. I try to pour every ounce of love I have into it. The way he kisses me has me seeing stars and I suddenly feel hot again, like I need more of him.

“Rhys I want more,” I say between kisses.

“I fuck you one time and you already want more?” he chuckles. “Don’t worry mate, I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @crystalferret202 @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81, @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92 , @aunicornmademedoit, @sharknutz , @slytherintaco , @isa1b2h3 , @nickishadow139

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand smut #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand acotar

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serendipityrogers · 8 months

Text

Undressed

pairing: simon riley x afab!reader

word count: 1.2k

content warning: creeper!ghost, she/her pronouns, reader gets undressed while simon is in the room and she doesn't know he's there, mention of male masturbation, body descriptions, no actual smut but MDNI.

an: more cod stuff, whose surprised? i saw a tik tok, and i came up with this. so i hope you enjoy. let me know if i should write some more stuff, even send me some ideas! not proofread!

Weirdly enough, Ghost enjoyed safehouses.

Maybe it was the quietness that fell over the house when everyone was way too tired to be loud.

Or the secludedness of the house, away from all the political bullshit.

Even if most of them were in shitty condition.

Or the size of a one bedroom flat.

Which both of those statements could be said about the one the five of you were currently in now. It was dark and dingy, none of the overhead lighting worked, so everyone was guided only by the few table lamps scattered across the house. Most of them being used by Gaz and Price who were using them to light their maps, trying to figure out the best way to get to their next location. But Simon had stolen one to read, cooped up in the only bedroom in the entire house.

It was an old novel, one he found on the dusty bookshelves out in the living room. Even for its age, it was quite interesting. Almost interesting enough for him to miss the commotion coming from the small kitchenette that was located right outside the closed door. It sounded like a loud frustrated groan, and the shattering of glass.

That’s when the bedroom door flung open, and you walked inside. Ghost only briefly looked up from the book resting in his large hands. You were mumbling something under your breath, and that’s when he noticed a large red stain on the white-beater you were wearing, and even on your jeans. “God, fucking damn it.” You muttered, picking up your rucksack from its place on the ground, and throwing it on the bed which was accompanied by a large creaking noise under its weight.

You began rummaging around in your pack, pulling out what looked like another tank top and a pair of issued-thermals. He was almost positive you hadn’t noticed him sitting in the corner, because you began unbuckling your belt, more mumbled curse words flying out of your mouth, and something to do with Soap, who he assumed was the cause of your frustrations. Once your belt was undone, you began fiddling with the empty thigh holster you still wore.

Your small fingers fumbled with the small multiple small buckles, shaking with anger. Ghost looked back down at his book, figuring you were about to change into a new set of clothes that weren’t so saturated with whatever that red substance was. His eyes started on the first sentence on the new page he had flipped to right before you barged into the room. But his brain couldn’t concentrate on the tiny-printed words, reading the same sentence three times.

When he glanced back up at you over the top of the book, you had finished fumbling with the holster buckles, and it was discarded on the floor. Now ripping your belt from the belt loops of your pants, discarding it in the same place. You had the same issue with the button and zipper of your pants, unsteady hands trying to fiddle with something so small. He glanced back down to try reading again, trying to give you the privacy you deserved. He could just stand up and walk out, but he could have startled you, or made you even more mad for not announcing his presence in the first place.

So, he sat as still as possible, trying to just keep his eyes off you. But that didn’t last for very long, after trying to comprehend the same sentence for the fourth time, his eyes glided back to you, almost unintentionally. You were now shimmying out of your jeans, struggling as they clung to you in their wet state. “Fuck you, Soap.” More muttering under your breath. Ghost’s eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin of your legs, noticing your calves, defined from the years of training. Your thighs, also toned, but more malleable, a slight jiggle when you move. He imagined himself leaving bruises on the insides of them, bite marks even.

He admired the white cotton panties that covered the apex between your thighs, and hugged the fullness of your ass. He couldn’t help but notice the small bow that decorated the front of them. Definitely not in regulation, but he couldn’t care less at this moment. His mind was running wild with thoughts of you. He would be lying if he hadn’t thought about you in this exact situation. Except usually, it was him undressing you instead.

Ghost had been attracted to you since the moment he laid eyes on you, almost three years ago. But he was not the type to act on it, or even hint at it, unlike Soap and Gaz. It was no secret that most of the team, excluding Price, who had taken on almost a fatherly role to you. The remaining three had some sort of interest in you. It seemed only natural when you were the only female in an all male group, but everyone was respectful about the situation. Gaz and Soap would joke about certain topics with you, but at the end of the day they would take a bullet for you without any question. Ghost would too, obviously.

Ghost shook his head almost cartoonishly, trying to free his mind of the thoughts plaguing him. He shouldn’t think about you this way, you were his comrade, and these thoughts were too distracting to have while on a mission. At least, he thought that until you pulled the soaked tank-top over your head, exposing your bra-clad chest. The bra was nude, perfectly matching your skin tone. It was also stained red, so in one quick motion, reaching behind your back, you let the bra fall to the floor along with your other clothing.

Ghost only had a side-view of you, but your breasts were perfectly sculpted for your chest, everything he had dreamed of while cumming into his fist after a long day of pretending you had no effect on him. Ghost had completely forgotten the book in his hands, the cover falling closed. He was completely gawking at you, no shame, well, maybe a little. But that was the last thing he was thinking about at that moment. He was disappointed, as he watched you latch another bra around your chest, covering your breast once again.

Next was a white tank top, similar to the one you had on earlier. His eyes wandered down to your ass, taking it in for the last couple moments. Who knew when, or if, he would ever see it again. You struggled with the thermals, swaying your hips back and forth, trying to get the tight-fitting garment up your legs. They fit you snug, not leaving much to the imagination, the other men would surely get a kick out of them, but Ghost was the lucky bastard who got to see you without any of it on. With one last huff and shimmy, you turned and walked back towards the door, ripping it open again.

“Soap, I’m still gonna kill your stupid ass!” You exclaimed, slamming the door shut in one smooth motion before disappearing back into the kitchenette. Leaving Simon there, the book still shut and completely breathless. And not to mention a raging hard on.

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pedroshotwifey · 4 months

Text

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months.

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat.

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist.

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today.

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time.

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like.

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly.

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes.

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process.

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment.

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man.

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand.

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling.

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent, like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it.

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything.

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag.

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile.

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.”

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing.

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice.

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you.

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound.

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly.

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.”

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile.

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you.

“What brought you back here?”

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town.

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time.

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening.

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again.

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper.

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod.

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave.

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her.

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting.

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note.

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?”

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #dark javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #narcos #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #dark pedro pascal

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