#I love my curls but not when they misbehave :(

[idontmindifuforgetme]

One thing I’m realizing is if you don’t already have healthy hair, it’s hard to pull curls off regardless of your routine. Like I just did my usual lengthy curly hair steps (detangle while soaking wet, leave-in, curl cream, mousse, and gel—all w products I’ve either been using for a minute or products I researched at length) but my curls still didn’t come out as curly as they usually do. And a big part of that is I haven’t done any hours long hair masks w shower caps on for a minute, I haven’t been doing deep clarifying sessions like I usually did, and bc I already started w a base of curls that was frizzy the end result wasn’t as bouncy and defined as it usually is when I do go the whole nine yards. So like literally the first step to defined curls (or hair in general tbh) w volume is having good hair care. The rest follows but I don’t think a solid routine will save u if u don’t already start w something healthy.

[r0-boat]

🪶 anon here! Can I request NSFW headcanons for ZZZ Wise, and Lycaon overstimulating gn/afab s/o please?

Injecting the new fandom with more Wise content....

Also I've accidentally added fingering My bad

ZZZ Wise & Von Lycaon fingering & overstimulation headcannons

Cw: NSFW, overstimulation, sexual punishment, AFAB!gn! S\O

Wise

Watching a movie... Well that's what you were doing while his sister was spending time with some of her friends You didn't know who their names were but you knew one of them was a robot and a pink haired lady. With his sister gone Wise wanted to watch a documentary with you. Little did you know He didn't actually want to watch a documentary.

Just 20 minutes in You we're pulled into a his lap and you thought nothing of it until his hand started to slide underneath your pants, His breath tickled your ear "is this okay?" It's been so long since he last seen you in person or even touched you at all now that you're there He couldn't help it anymore.

Your pants were long gone as you lay on top of your boyfriend one arm hiking up your leg the other in between them coding his fingers in your juices before sliding them inside.

"So wet..." "I love feeling you"

Wise is gentle at first slowly pumping in and out of you leisurely feeling you at his pace. Making sure he memorizes the way you clench around him. The soft wet walls of your pussy making his cock rock hard. But for now he wants to touch. Despite his slow and sensual pace occasionally pressing and touching your clit You become close, Wise was so good with his fingers and he knew that.

However after You came on his fingers It wasn't enough He needed more, wise flips you over now he was towering over you putting your legs over his shoulders you can see a hungry looking his eyes and he begins to finger fuck you faster. Utterly hypnotized by the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt, wise says in a husky tone "I love the sound your soaked pussy makes You can do it again for me can you?? Come on just give me one more..."

Your toes curl your back arching You whimper and scream, You couldn't hear Wise loan himself as he jams his fingers as deep as he can feeling you cum around him. But he needs more, He hasn't quite broken you yet. Wise loves to watch you fall apart, to fuck you dumb until you can no longer think about anything else but his cock or his fingers. If you really want him to he will milk every orgasm out of you until you physically cannot cum anymore.

Lycaon

Misbehaving again? Tisk tisk tisk... Before he can properly punish you He files down his claws You know when you're screwed when you see His claws are a lot shorter than they used to be. This time he wraps a blindfold around you erasing your sense of sights to heighten your other ones.

If you are known for squirming then he shall restrain you in some way whether it be his tie or his hands you will behave.

Very skilled hands knowing all the right places to touch you. He knows how to make you cum but right now he will withhold your pleasure. You will get your orgasm and many more after. He feels a little selfish indulging in you like this instead of just ramming his fingers inside you until you cum over and over, instead his fingertips brush against the opening every now and then dipping inside brushing against your clit. Your whimpers are music to his ears, such a cute little pup.

When he finally has his fill That's when he plunges his fingers immerselessly inside you You cry and thrash But you don't know where you try to close your legs but to no avail All you can do is sit and take it.

He is grateful to put the blindfold on you He does not want you to see the unsavory site of his hand palming his bulge He is ashamed yet excited that he is getting off too You're punishment.

You cum but he doesn't let up milking you through your orgasm you try to whimper his name but he only shushes you.

"Your doing great my dear." "You're taking your punishment so well, come on give me another one."

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: let's misbehave—cole porter and others

↳ notes: the fact i don't even care for the show and this is my second fic. save me alastor. save me.

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It had been something of a shock when you found out that the giant joke of a hotel up the street was housing one of your oldest friends

• Alastor and you had run into each other during one of his first years in hell. A time when people still felt brave enough to point and laugh at him on the street without fear of being slaughtered

• You weren’t anything important at the time. Not an overlord or anything of the sort; just a regular sinner that died unexpectedly ended up face first on the concrete. Nothing to bat an eye at, really

• But for some reason, Alastor had been curtious to you all the same. Maybe it was the apologetic tip of your head you offered after accidentally running into him, or perhaps something else. Whatever it may be, the two of you wasted no time becoming fast friends. As long as you didn't mind the gore or screams of terror that is.

• And decades later, there you were, knocking slowly on a grand front door to pay him a long overdue visit

• Charlie and the rest of the hotel guests had been positively floored when you showed up in modern clothes and an easy-going ‘hello’, looking nothing like any friend of the Radio Demon

• “There has to be something wrong with you!” Angel Dust exclaimed, peering down at you in a stripped pink suit as he stood slack jawed. “No way Al has a normal friend. I mean none of us do either, but Alastor??”

• You think they were just shocked that Alastor had a friend outside of other overlords. And one he wasn’t using to make a deal with, nonetheless

• Husk and Nifty were the only ones that seemed unaffected by you. Not surprising, considering that you had met them both on separate occasions

• It only took one look from Husk behind his bar before was hopping out of the booth, mumbling to you that he would go get his boss. You just chuckled as he left

• Alastor was quick to materialize from behind you mere seconds later, wearing one of his larger smiles

• “My old pal! Oh how wonderful it is to see you again! It has been too long, I must say. Too long indeed!” The powerful demon laughed good naturedly . He held a hand out to you, and shook your arm with vigor as you returned the notion

• “Good to hear your voice again.” You said honestly, and smiled slightly at the familiar static pouring from his speech. He always has a way with words. “But really Alastor. Redemption? What are you up to this time.”

• “Hah! You know me too well, my dear.” He smiled deviously, twirling his staff from hand to hand as Charlie’s expression formed an offended pout behind him. You ignored it in favor of laughing with Alastor

• The demon wasted no time ushering you around the hotel for a good old fashioned walk-and-talk. It had been so long since he had last truly seen you, and there was just so much to catch up on! Of course, his events were a bit more exciting, so to speak, than yours, but the point still stands

• “— and oh how absolutely wondrous her screams were!” He cooed to himself, curling a clawed hand around the top of his staff in mirth

• “Alastor, you know how much I love your storytelling," You hummed slowly. "But mind telling me a bit about this hotel instead? Like what exactly you're doing here?”

• “Oh right! Of course!" He cleared his throat. "It all started when I saw this horrendous advertisement in one of those blasted T.V windows —"

• "Hey!"

• Judging from the shocked gasp that could be heard from behind you, Charlie didn’t take that too well

• More visits were made to Hazbin Hotel over the coming months. The more you came, the longer you stayed. Sometimes, you would just listen in on Alastor’s broadcasts like old times, or take to sitting at the bar as everyone else ran around like their heads were on fire

• Which happened more than you'd like to admit

• In the meantime, you became acquainted with all types of new faces; from a trio of bizarre eggs to the lord of hell himself

• Alastor had been very cagey that day.

• "Great to meet you, sir. Charlie’s talked about you before, and it's very nice to put a face to the name." You said politely while taking one of Lucifer's hands in both of yours to shake it. He just grinned uncontrollably response and made star eyes at the thought of his daughter mentioning him

• "Alright I think that's enough for introductions!" An irritated voice rang from beside you, practically overflowing with an aggressive amount of static

• "Oh shut up Alastor. I'm shaking the king of hell's hand. Let me have this."

[starkeysprincess]

ugh i love when rafe is mean and pervy and nasty next time whatever minor thing reader does for him to consider misbehaving he has her blindfolded so she can’t see him recording right in front of her sopping cunt that he’ll post to his close friends story, his thick ring clad fingers pistoning in and out of her until she’s creaming all over him and her cries are drowned out by the obscene wet sounds as his fingers speed up even more 🙈

pairing: bully!rafe x reader warnings: bit of NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, being filmed without consent, 18+ mdni

a/n: I just love mean rafe

"What are you doing?" you squeak, your vision turning pitch black from the fabric that was tied around your head as he roughly pushes you onto the bed. "Y'know, I'm startin' to think you like pushing my fuckin' buttons" Rafe spat, lifting your skirt up, "Prancing around with no panties on like a little slut".

You didn't have time to react as his fingers ran along your slit, earning a snort from him, "The thought of me catching a glimpse of your bare cunt under your skirt got you all wet, huh?".

Rafe reaches for his phone, and opens the camera, changing it to the video setting before hitting 'record'.

"Since you wanna act like a slut, you'll get treated like one" Rafe chuckles, his fingers spreading your pussy open to capture your glistening cunt.

He pulls a gasp from your lips when he pushes two of his thick digits into your wet, tight hole harshly. He doesn't waste a second, relentlessly pumping his fingers, his ring rubbing against your clit with each thrust of his fingers.

"Look at how this pretty cunt is takin' my fingers" he groans, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, "Rafe" you moan his name, squirming under him. He curls his fingers, continuously hitting at your g-spot.

You couldn't help but buck your hips, grinding against his fingers as they brutally thrust into your sopping cunt. "Shit, look at how much this slut likes it, she's practically humping my fuckin' fingers" he chuckles.

Your whimpers and cries fill the room, and you clench around him. His fingers speed up, pistoning in and out of you, your cries of pleasure being drowned by the squelching sounds of your pussy.

"Wonder what our friends would think if they saw and heard how wet you are f'me but I guess we're gonna find out".

Your brain doesn't register his words, too focused on the pleasure you're feeling to process his words. Rafe ends the video and posts it to his 'close friends' story on Instagram before tossing his phone to the side.

"Let's see if your cunt can take my cock just as well as my fingers".

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @drudyslut @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @annoyingassleo @fae-of-prey @xxbimbobunnyxx @sturnioloshacker @redhead1180 @shawtycoreee @drewstarkeys-world @starkeyisthelastname @heartsforvin @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @kisses4angel @hallecarey1 @eddieslut69 @hyperfixationgirl @starkeysheart @blckbrrybasket @flvredcas

[yanderefarm]

Ok there's vampire ares, but what about vampire or even pet Achilles, sadistic vampire reader who holds very popular "parties" where all the guests drink, have sex, and watch reader torture humans and vampires alike, maybe even add a casino element with people placing bets on who will scream loudest, last the longest without passing out, etc

cw;; blood drinking, blood, dehumanization, torture, needles, drugs

i was possessed to write this. i love this whole concept so much.

some vampires are kind to humans, they remember their own humanity and treat humans with care like domestic animals. some vampires have either forgotten or abandoned their original humanity in favour of making the weak suffer. and with modern technologies it's easier to push these humans to the absolute breaking point.

you're not so cruel as to hate humans, they make you money and entertain you after all, but you do enjoy hearing a human's will break. that's why you have your nightclub, an underground place where deranged perverts go to torture humans. human pets who were abandoned, human uprising activists, a greedy blood bank employee, a misbehaving human cattle, anything you wanted could be found right here. it was a demon's slice of heaven and the humans pit of hell.

you were enjoying the screams of the damned from your vip seat, blood wine in hand and two of the most sadistic female vampires you knew on your arms. they knew staying near you would mean they got a taste of the best humans to break. one of your usual suppliers approached your seat with 3 humans following behind him. two of them were clearly pets, numbers written on their faces to signify lot numbers, while the third and most beautiful wasn't marked or scarred he looked out of place.

"this was their last day on the auction. no one wants em so-"

"what about him."

the other vampire looks back at the pretty boy and sighs.

"he's a return. his owner complained he doesn't talk, doesn't scream, doesn't even get afraid."

your eyebrow raised in curiosity. you took his chain from the man, yanking the beautiful man closer to you.

"what's your name?"

"i told you he doesn't talk, sir. dunno how mu-"

"achilles."

his pretty voice was like honey. your supplier looked at him shocked while a smirk crossed your lips. you sat up fully intrigued by your new beautiful guest.

"achilles~ how come you're here and not being pampered and adored by one of the nice guys?"

"because I'm too beautiful to waste on them."

you laughed at that, the other vampires sheepishly joining in. as your laughter died you pulled him down to your level by his chain. your cold fingers gently brushed some of his pretty red curls out of his face.

"is that what the one who abandoned you said? or do you really believe it?"

it was amusing how naturally his stoic face leaned into your gentle touch.

"he told me that. he also said beautiful things, like me, look best when we're screaming and crying."

as if to punctuate his cold delivery you could hear a harsh thwack followed by a human's sobbing screams. you ran your thumb over his soft skin down to his pretty lips.

"that's why you didn't scream for him right? wouldn't make a noise, wouldn't cry. no, not you. you won't let these sick vampire bastards win. am i close?"

"i need to get home to my family. nothing he did to me was so unbearable that i couldn't endure for them."

your sadistic smirk turned to a genuine smile as you looked him over.

"... I'll make you a deal. you show me your worth and I'll protect your family."

he remained quiet contemplating it for a minute.

"if my worth is screaming and being in pain i don't know how well i can preform."

you let out a huff in amusement.

"don't worry I'll take care of your suffering if you agree to this."

"i would like to talk more about the terms but i just have to prove to you i have some value? is that correct?"

"that's correct."

"will any value be sufficient even if it's not what you're picturing?"

"hmmm... yes. even if your only value is your blood or your good looks. i still hope you'll endeavor to show me more than that, though."

"so i succeed by simply agreeing. you just hope to motivate me to be pushed to the edge?"

"yes. that's right. so, do you agree?"

"i agree."

you paid the supplier for all three of them, leaving the lesser two to the female vampires by your side. they both went about feeding on their new toys first while you sat achilles in your lap.

after a short while of just sitting there a waiter came up to you with a silver platter. in the middle of the platter was a syringe filled with a hot pink liquid. achilles eyed it, clearly intimidated by the sight but there was nothing he could do to stop you from picking it up. your other hand grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing his lips to purse.

"open."

he hesitated before he opened his mouth.

"tongue out."

his pretty wet tongue slipped out of his mouth giving him a slutty look there in your hands. pretty boy. you released his jaw but he kept his mouth open like a good boy. you tapped the syringe twice before bringing the sharp tip to his outstretched tongue. you didn't hesitate even as he flinched, plunging the whole thing into his tongue.

one of the girls looked at you both with wide eyes. "the whole thing??"

you gently removed the needle and placed it back on the silver platter, dismissing the waiter.

"what was it...?"

"if he's going to be amusing he'll need the whole thing. now get up and strip."

achilles hesitated again, his body actually frozen as he stood there brow furrowed. you let out a heavy sigh and began to unbutton his shirt.

"what... was it...?"

"it was something that will make you feel good. it makes your whole body sensitive."

you pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and discarded it to the side.

"is it dangerous to use all of it..."

"no. it'll just hit you really hard. it's ok, I'll take care of you but you do need to do exactly as I say. now take your pants off."

he stood up doing as you ordered with his cold face. he went to sit in your lap again but instead you lead him to the side of the couch and told him to stand there with his hands behind his back. he could feel everyone in the club staring at his naked body and you noticed his soft cock twitch slightly. you smirked before giving him a quick kiss and returning to your seat.

it took about 20 minutes before you finally heard a sound from achilles. you'd just been sharing one of the other pets, indulging in the free blood, when you heard the softest sluttiest whimper you've ever heard. you looked over to see your forgotten game with his entire body flushed and his cock stiff and leaking. he was clearly trying to stand still but even the slightest bit of breeze made him squirm and flinch. your eyes widened and your hunger that had been successfully satisfied so far tonight was like a fresh tidal wave. you needed to sink your fangs into him. you needed him screaming.

you got up abandoning everything too transfixed on your pretty toy to care. your breath was hitched when you reached inches from his wanting body, your fingers hovered over his skin. he looked over at you his stoic face now red and his eyes had hearts in them. he was like a masterpiece of want and desire you didn't even want to touch him for fear of ruining his perfect body. you hesitantly ran your fingers over his soft pink lips and a sultry moan flowed from his lips like honey.

everyone in the club was staring at you both now. everyone wanted this pretty piece of ass. you felt an odd twinge of jealousy and possessiveness strike. you pulled your hand away from your toy's lips instead grabbing his wrist roughly. god he let out another slutty moan. you couldn't stand that everyone could hear him. you started dragging him forcefully to your private room. as you did you noticed his feet struggling to keep up with your quick steps. you surprised yourself when you slowed down and matched his pace.

god you were already whipped for this pretty human.

as soon as you were in the private room you shoved him into the door, your mouth swallowing his slutty moans with a passionate kiss. his whole sensitive body twitched and jerked as his cock spilled cum onto his stomach. fuck. you pulled away to look at his mess leaving him gasping for air. he looked down as he tried to compose himself and the sight of his stomach covered in cum made him whimper. fuck.

you slammed your hand over his mouth hitting his head against the door.

"you're gonna fucking scream."

[bunny-jpeg]

This is my first time ever submitting an ask on tumblr but i didnt realize u also wrote for Fernando !!! i have kinda a big order tho so mb ToT. can i please get persian roll and swiss roll with a side of naked and famous and champagne? served Fernando Alonso :))

bakery menu!!

want to submit your order? hit up the menu! there are many things on the menu and i would love to see what you come up with! these orders have been so fun to do, so thank you to everyone who has submitted them! <3 (also don't worry about it being a bigger order, i love doing this as well!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you." + naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, bimbo/ditzy!reader, mean!fernando, age gap (20s/40s), dirty talk & degrading language, fingering, doggy style, rough sex, orgasm denial

"daddy!" you chirped as you came through the front door of fernando's large house in spain. your heels clicked against the tiled floor and you did a full turn to find him, "daddy! where are you!" you perked up when you saw him emerge from the kitchen. he was drying his hands on a dish towel.

his smile dropped when he saw the bags in your hand. the names on them were expensive. he grew a little curious, "how did you pay for those, princess?" he asked you with his eyebrows raised. you didn't have a job, you hadn't had one for almost two years. and with the amount the appeared to be in those bags, your allowance didn't pay for that either.

you dipped your head a little and said, "i don't know daddy." and softly put the bags down and clasped your hands behind your back. your glossed bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

dumb little girl. stupid, idiotic little girl. you wouldn't learn your lesson until your ass cheeks were bruised till they were purple and you were wearing the collar that fernando bought for you when you misbehaved. there was a little weight to the item to remind you who you belonged to.

he groped your ass while you laid out on his lap. your ass was properly bruised as you whined against him. you were a pretty, whorish display for him. his grip was tight as he said, "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

you moved a little, 'daddy, please." you wanted to bury your head under the covers. to hear his rough voice in your head left you heated all over. he could so easily get under your skin, he could push and pull you into any position he needed you in. that was the power of a sugar daddy in that kind of arrangement. fernando, regardless, held over power over you. and it always made you pant heavily in a heated passion that made your cunt clench around him.

he liked you like this, submissive against him. while he'd give you the world, there were rules you had to follow. he touched your ass a little more as he said, "i know you cannot think, princess. there are so thoughts in that head of yours. but, what did i say about not taking daddy's credit card? you have to behave, angel."

you squirmed a little, "i'm sorry, daddy." you tried to pull away from him, but you weren't getting far. you clung to the sheets under you, your ass was a whorish display. he sank his fingers inside of you for a moment and you moaned loudly, "daddy i'm sorry!!!" and arched your back slightly, which fernando liked quite a bit.

"i bet you are." he said. his fingers felt so good in you as he rubbed against some of your more sensitive areas which made your toes curl, "but i know you'll do it again. because you are a bad girl, always a bad girl for me." his voice was low and it made you squirm a little more.

your cunt took his digits so well, your back arched so pretty and fernando continued to finger fuck you. he just kept you on the edge of orgasm, not helping you got over the hill with it. he teased you and you whined as you tried to get some friction from his rough jeans.

"no. no, princess. it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." he said as he refused to let you orgasm, this was all part of the punishment. it didn't take long before you ended up off of his fingers and on your face in the pillows with our hips in the air. you pretty pussy on display for him.

fernando got his clothes off and ended back on the bed with you. he licked his fingers clean of your wetness before he got up behind you on the bed. his cock was at full attention and the head was leaky with pre-cum. he wanted you, he wanted you badly. even when you misbehaved and caused him headaches. he wanted to finish inside that pretty cunt and bully his cum as deep as he could get you.

when he got himself inside of you, your back was arched and you clung to the pillows. your noises got loud and pathetic. you tried to beg, "i'm sorry, daddy" and hiked your hips up a little further.

"i know you are. i know you want me to forgive your little incident. but i think i may have grown too soft with you, angel. being too nice.' he said as he rutted against you. he could feel the flash of heat in his body, he pushed your head into the pillows and picked up the pace. he bullied your sweet cunt and your noises were greatly muffled, "you've become a spoiled little slut. you enjoy getting into trouble." he moved against you harder and you were moaning loudly.

"please, daddy." your back arched more as you yearned for him greatly. he just thought you were to die for, beyond beautiful laid out under him. if he flashed enough bills in your face or slipped you his credit card, you'd happily do anything he asked. he had you bound in a way that there was little to escape from him.

he continued to fuck you with a feverish pace and was spurred on by your hot and heavy moans. he watched you whine and claw at the covers like a wild animal. you were insatiable at times. you yearned for cock deeply and who was fernando to deny you that. but he was going to deny you the sweet release you craved.

only good girls got to cum.

he pace was brutal and you felt the rush of pleasure through you. you panted wildly and felt the inferno of lust in you. you were fernando alonso's stupid little princess and you wore that title with pride. you were proud to be his, even if you had bubblegum for a brain. but that was alright, that was what fernando was there for. to make sure his angel was cared for.

"are you not going to take my credit card anymore? you're going to be a good girl for me? not cause me problems? i'd hate to have to leash you. keep you close to me so you don't cause problems." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

you shook your head against the pillows, "no daddy, i'm sorry daddy." your voice was strained as you felt close to your climax. but fernando finished before you, he shoved his entire length into your sweet cunt and made you toes curl at the feeling.

"that's what i like to here, angel. you sound so pretty when you beg for me. maybe you do have it in you to be a good girl for me." his thrusts were rough and it made your heart feel in your throat. he fucked you with a fury that left you feel even dumber.

"daddy."

with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. marking your pretty little pussy. he loved when he shoved it in as deep as it would go. leave a little reminder of him in you. he groaned harshly, "so pretty under me. such a little fucking whore." his words were biting and it only turned you on more. but before you could finish. he pulled out and pinched your clit. "no." and you whined more.

"daddy!" your voice was tight.

you whined and fernando said, "if you want to finish, you for once have to work for it. now get up on daddy's thigh." <3

[maxillness]

Let Them Watch || MW2 x gf!Reader (ft. sv5 & jb22)

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, voyeurism, jealous!Mark, hair gripping, praise kink, fingering, masturbation (m),

Wordcount: 1.4k

Request: Hi, I love your stories so much. I was just wondering if I could make a request. If you can, you write something about Mark Webber x reader and then reader is misbehaving in front of Sebastian and Jenson and the reader get intercourse from Mark in front of Sebastian and Jenson

Mark was doing some media stuff in the paddock without her, resulting in her being bored out of her mind

That’s up on til she saw Sebastian and Jenson standing together while talking

Her and Mark hadn’t fucked for a week, due to the fact he had been tired all week. This caused her to push her luck, and hope he would notice her as she stood with his teammate and friend

She had worn a low cut shirt and denim shorts to the paddock, due to the warm weather

She walked over to the German and Brit, saying her hallo as they noticed her

As she talked to both of them, she kept looking over at her boyfriend, who’s facial expression became more and more annoyed as he saw the way she was smiling and touching his friends

She was pushing out her chest as she talked, looking up at them both through hooded eyes, biting her lip, playing with her hair

She yelped softly as her body was pressed into Marks, his hand roughly on her hip, lips close to her ear “You’re a dead woman” He whispered, not missing the blush that crept down her neck

She got her will, alright. This just wasn’t they way she was expecting it

Mark gripping her hair, pulling her back flushed up against his chest. His hand working on the button of her jeans, kissing down her neck and to her bare shoulders, all the while Sebastian and Jenson sat in front of the hotel bed on the couch

She whimpered, grabbing the back of Mark’s thighs as he zipped down the zipper, biting softly down into her shoulder

“Mark…” She whimpered low, feeling his fingertips on her lower stomach “Please, I’m sorry” She turned her head as best as she could with his hand in her hair, kissing his jaw softly, feeling his stubble on her lips

“Yeah?” His accent was thick, as it always was when he was jealous or mad “They’re not” He looked up and caught both of the drivers eyes

“I don’t care about them” She whimpered, grinding her hips back onto him, feeling him hard in his jeans, making him groan

“Pull them down” He tugged on her hair, drawing out a soft moan from her as she closed her eyes

Her hands were shaky as she removed them from his thighs and to the sides of her shorts. She slowly pulled them down to her mid thighs, revealing her lace panties

“Them as well” He pressed down on her abdomen as she pulled down her panties, letting them pool with her shorts

She couldn’t see Sebastian and Jenson from where her head was on Mark’s shoulder, but she heard shuffling and a low cough from the couch

Mark looked over at the two men, watching as their eyes were plastered on his fingers that were slowly creeping their way down to her folds

Both of the other drivers breath hitched as the Aussies middle and ring finger drew through her folds, feeling how wet she had gotten

He turned his head to whisper in his girlfriend’s ear “You like that, huh? Having my teammate and friend watch us, hm?” She let out a soft moan as he slowly entered her with his two fingers

“Fuck” She breathed, her eyes falling closed “As long as I get you, I don’t care who’s watching” She whimpered as he slowly started moving his fingers

“Might want to do this more often if you get this wet” He chuckled, curling his fingers, getting a high pitched moan out from her

“Hm? What do you say, mates?” He looked up at the drivers who shot their heads up as Mark spoke “Want to do this another time?”

All they could was nod, too focused on the way their friend was fingering his girlfriend in front of them

“Look at that, baby” He chuckled, watching the way she was struggling to keep still “They’re too focused on you to even be able to answer” He smirked, pressing his lips to her jaw

It was very obvious that the men in front of them were hard in their pants “Should I let them touch themselves, or wait til I’m inside you, hm? Your call sweetheart” He said, fingers speeding up as he curled them

She had trouble getting her words out as she was moaning rapidly “W-wait” She panted, digging her nails into the back of Mark’s thigh, even through his jeans could he feel her

“Mm… Good girl” Her whole body turned a deep red as she heard the praise. That bastard. He knew she loved his praising

“Fuck, Mark- p-please. ‘M close” She almost cried out, her whole body shaking as she felt the familiar heat pool in her stomach

She whined as he pulled his fingers out of her. Her whine was soon replaced with a yelp as he pushed her down, burring her face into the mattress

She looked back at him, whimpering as she saw him take off his shirt, throwing it with hers on the floor

She gripped the sheets tighter as he unbuckled his belt. He didn’t bother to pull his jeans all the way down or his boxers before he was inside her, gripping her hips tight

Marks hips were still, looking up at his friends. One of his hands groped her hair, pulling her head up so she could look at them as well

“Go on, mates” Neither driver needed more confirmation before their hands were fiddling with their belts to get opened

“See how eager you make them, loveness?” He asked, his other hand trailing down her spine, making her shiver and clench down around him, making him groan

She whimpered as both the other drivers had finally gotten their own hand on their cocks, making them groan

“Hear that, love? All because of you” She whined as he started moving his hips slow at first before finding a pace and rhythm that worked for both of them

“Watch them” He said, making her open her eyes, looking over at the two men that were now stroking themselves, drawing out sounds from both of them

She started moaning louder as Mark hit that perfect spot inside her. The spot that made her thighs shake and her legs and arms feel like jelly

It was funny to see how Sebastian had to cover his mouth to not let any loud sounds out, seeing he was the more inexperienced out of the four of them

“M-mark. P-please. ‘M close” Her words were slurred as she clenched down around him, pulling him closer to his orgasm as well

By the sight of it, Sebastian and Jenson was close as well

“Fuck, you feel so good” He groaned, his thrusts getting out of rhythm and sloppy

The sight of the German and Brit coming almost on the same time, sent the Aussie and his girlfriend over the edge as well

Mark rode out both of their orgasm before pulling out of her. He patted her ass softly before speaking up “Go clean them up”

She got off the bed with wobbly legs. To make it easier for her, she pulled up her panties and discarded of her shorts

She slowly made her way over to the drivers on the couch

She first sat down between Sebastian’s legs, taking his right hand in hers before proceeding to lick off his cum from him

As she did, she looked up at him through nodded eyes, pupils blown. The sight made his breath hitch again

She made sure to get everything up before she moved on to clean Jenson’s hand, looking up at him the exact same way, getting the same reaction out of him as Sebastian

Once she was finished, Mark told them to leave “Get over here” He said

She walked over to him where he was sat half clothed up against the headboard. He pulled her into his lap, placing his head in the crook of her neck

“Might start misbehaving in front of Fernando if this is what it gets me” She chuckled, feeling his lips on her throat

“I will smear you if you do”

[joyful-writings]

❀ the hand that feeds

lee heeseung x fem!reader

word count: 469 synopsis: heeseung using his hands to pleasure you. legit, that's it. my hand kink was going brrr a month and a half ago, thus birthing this. i need those things all the way inside me warnings: SMUT (🔞MINORS DNI🔞), vaginal fingering, reader chokes on heeseung's fingers, a good amount of drooling (same), reader calls heeseung "seungie", heeseung calls reader "pretty girl" "princess" "my tight baby" "my slut" "my whore", it's sort of implied that heeseung's mean (i think?) but he doesn't really do anything

"You like that, pretty girl? You like when Seungie chokes you on his fingers?"

You couldn't quite respond. All you could do was moan as Heeseung shoved his fingers further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

"Bet you like it, bet you love it... You love my hands, hm? Want 'em in you and on you all the damn time... Well, now you have 'em."

Maybe it was a mistake to reveal your preference for your boyfriend's hands. But who could blame you? After fingering you countless times, feeling his teasing touches when he needed you most, you'd grown to associate his hands with heavenly pleasure. His thick digits always stretched your pussy so well whenever he prepped you for his dick, moving skillfully as they curled and scissored inside you. 

Times like those were the only times you commended his addiction to video games.

As one hand was attached to your mouth, the other was teasing your soaked folds. Running his pointer finger through your heat, purposefully avoiding your clit and barely dipping into your entrance. It made you want to squirm and whine. You knew that you'd get in trouble for that, though.

Heeseung always delivers pleasure but on his own time. To misbehave would mean to prolong what you crave most right now, so you kept yourself still, your moans quiet as you sucked his fingers.

"Fuck, you're so wet... Is it 'cause of my hands, princess? Did watching me play my games turn you on that much?"

You gazed up at him, eyes round and almost seeming innocent. Almost.

You nodded shortly before your eyes rolled back. Finally, a finger. Just one, slowly pushing into your pussy, making you clench uncontrollably already. Heeseung hissed quietly, a mischievous grin etched on his face. You feared it was permanent.

“Tight... My tight baby, squeezin' my finger like it was a cock. Who made you so slutty?"

Heeseung looked at you, expecting an answer yet not pulling his fingers from your mouth. You knew not to keep him waiting. "You," you mumbled, low and distorted around his fingers, trying not to drool.

Heeseung's finger quicked its pace in your pussy, a second finger trying to work its way inside. On his other hand, his fingers pressed down on your tongue. "Louder. Who turned you into a little slut?"

"You did, Seungie!" you cried, still incoherent, but Heeseung understood. Spit trailed down your chin and your boyfriend's hand, dripping onto your chest and running down his arm. So much for trying not to drool.

"That's fuckin' right. You're my slut, my whore... and you're gonna cum for me as many times as I want you to tonight."

Heeseung leans closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs.

"Just from my fingers."

a/n: here's a little something i wrote in my notes app back in december. i have longer ideas coming, i promise!

[charliemwrites]

Chapter 3

Content: Mild Pet Play, Dub-Con, Sexual Content

You wake to the scent of cooking eggs.

The previous night filters in between the muted clatter of dishes. Sneaking and hiding, then running and struggling. Your ass aches dully, no doubt bruised in a few key places, but the rest of your body is loose and heavy. Pleasantly so. Owed to that spectacular orgasm, though you’re reluctant to give Ghost any credit for that. He just took advantage of your body’s unorthodox arousal responses, that’s all.

Has absolutely nothing to do with the molten gravel of his voice. The rock-hard biceps, barrel chest, thick thighs. Those midnight eyes lurking behind that damn mask.

Nope. Nothing to do with him…

Well, that’s enough of that.

You yawn and stretch, blink your eyes slowly open. Before bed, Ghost scooped you up and took you back to your own cushion, saying something about earning the right to sleep with Johnny. You’d been dozing off and only managed a half-hearted grumble when he clipped your leash on again.

Across the room, Johnny is still splayed out and snoring – likely stayed up on self-imposed watch when he should have been resting. Shaking your head, you gingerly sit up, testing your body weight on your sore butt. Not too bad, if mildly uncomfortable. Manageable, you decide, and slump against the wall.

You rub your eyes, shift as your bladder twinges. Fuck. All that water Ghost made you chug last night. You glance dubiously at the kitchen doorway. To call out or not?

Ghost appears before you can decide. He notices you instantly, rumbles “good morning” in a sleep-laden voice that sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t respond, eyes dropping to your lap as your face warms. Christ, one good orgasm and a tender ass, and you feel like a teenager with a crush.

Don’t even realize he’s moved until he sinks to a knee in front of you. It’s too close; he absolutely dwarfs you. Your head doesn’t even feel screwed on yet, still floating somewhere in the memory of the previous night. He tuts as you duck your head, fingers curling in your blanket.

“What did I say about answering me?” he rumbles, deceptively soft. “Are we already misbehaving?”

He radiates so much heat. A tired part of you wants to curl into him, soak it up as you shake off the chill of sleep. You clear your throat against that thought and turn your face away. Not that he lets you get far, guiding your chin around and up. Exposing your throat – and yet still so devastatingly gentle.

“No. Sorry,” you whisper. “Just woke up, ‘s all.”

He coos. “Just a grumpy little thing, is that it? Need a spot of coffee?”

“A-and the restroom,” you add quietly, unwilling to risk denial. “Please.”

“Give us a proper hello and I’ll take you for a piddle.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tamping down embarrassed anger as your face burns. He’s willing to give you what you want, that’s all that matters.

“Good morning, Ghost,” you murmur.

He hums. “Lovely, but not how my kitten should greet me.”

You blink, brows furrowing in confusion. How you should…? Right, because you’re his “pet.”

You recall what you can of cat behavior (though it’s been a while since you’ve interacted with one) and come to a hesitant conclusion. Slow and gauging, you shift forward, balancing on a hand between your legs. Ghost holds your gaze, dark and indecipherable.

Praying that his request supersedes his “no touching” rule, you lean up to press your cheek to his. When he doesn’t yank you back, you rub your face against the soft fabric of the balaclava, nuzzling to the sharp line of his jaw and then down to his neck. A rumble starts low in his chest. At first, you fear he’s growling. Then realize when he tilts his chin that he’s humming. Happily, it seems.

“Good morning, sir,” you murmur, pressing your nose to the hollow under his jaw. He still smells so fucking good. Even with the lingering scent of gunpowder and leather beneath the bodywash.

“Very good,” he croons, fingers burying in your hair. He scritches his fingers gently along your scalp, petting you. “What a sweet baby.”

You brace yourself against another shudder. You aren’t supposed to find this arousing or enjoyable. He’s holding your need to pee over you. That’s the only reason you’ve gone along with this. The only thing you get out of it is a trip to the restroom.

The chain rattles, drawing you from your thoughts. It’s… gone? When did he do that? Ghost squeezes the back of your neck and guides you away from his shoulder. You meet his eyes, bite the inside of your cheek when you see the gleam in them.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He clicks his tongue again, but lets you stand. It takes you a second, still a little stiff, but Ghost is patient as you stretch. Standing too close, sure, but not rushing you. Probably still preening over your compliance.

He walks you in front of him towards the basement hallway. When you come up short, Ghost chuckles and smooths a hand down your side. Meant to comfort, maybe.

“Downstairs bathroom is this way, little one,” he explains. “The basement isn’t for kitties. Even naughty ones.”

Well, even if he’s lying, it’s not like you have much choice. So you brace yourself and venture into the short hallway at his prodding. There are… four doors. You blink, glance at him over your shoulder. He points to the one at the very end. There are a series of locks on the outside, big heavy ones.

“Ominous,” you joke, strained.

“That’s the basement.” He pivots you to the right. “This one’s the restroom.”

“What… about the others?” you ask.

He snorts. “Sex dungeons one and two.”

You whip around, eyes huge. He barks a laugh and pats your ass.

“Storage and garage,” he chuckles. “Christ, your face.”

“Well, how should I know?!” you complain, shoving at the bathroom door. “I don’t know what you’re into!”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head. You will.”

And then he slams the door behind you, leaving you in speechless silence. You press your hands to your face, compelled to hide when there’s not even a mirror for company. Fuck, you’re so stupidly turned on. It defies all logic and sanity. Once you feel a little less like you’re about to spontaneously combust, you hurry to do your business.

The downstairs restroom is a clean and modern half-bath. A brief exploration reveals nothing of interest (namely a weapon) in the cabinets. Hand towels, extra toilet paper, a little travel kit with a toothbrush and toothpaste under the sink. It’s decently stocked, but not helpful for anything beyond its intended use. Fair enough, you suppose.

When you finish, Ghost is waiting for you in the hall. Just like before, he walks you in front of him back to the living room. Soap is just starting to rouse, stretching and yawning widely. You immediately pivot to join him.

Two fingers hook in the side of your collar and tug, not hard enough to choke, but enough to stop you.

“Ah ah,” Ghost says.

You grab at his arm with an embarrassingly whiny noise, turning back to him in confusion.

“Why not?” you demand, frowning.

“Because you don’t have permission, brat,” he answers, voice turning dangerous. “Now, release.”

It takes a beat for you to realize what he means. Then you drop your hands, praying your little transgression hasn’t earned you another punishment so soon. Thankfully, he just tsks.

“Don’t give me that look. You two can play in a bit.”

You scrunch up your nose – not sure what “look” he means but knowing that he’s probably being condescending. Seems like his default.

“Back to bed,” he commands, jerking his head.

You huff and slink to your cushion, even going so far as to flop down. You’re being petulant, you know that, but you’re cranky. Ghost doesn’t say a word, just attaches your chain and leaves you with a patronizing little pat to the head.

“Morning, pup,” he calls.

Johnny squints at him for a second, scratching at the dark stubble shadowing his handsome jaw.

“Mornin’,” he grunts after a second.

Ghost snorts, stops with his boots at the edge of Johnny’s cushion. “I think we can do better than that. C’mere, pup.”

Johnny sighs through his nose but pushes himself up on his knees to shuffle closer. His eyes flick to you, looking for a clue.

Like a pet, you mouth as clear as you can.

His brows twitch with confusion. Then Ghost scratches encouragingly at the shorn hair behind his ear and understanding sparks in his sleepy blue eyes. He balances his palms on those broad thighs and presses his face into Ghost’s lower stomach. Your brows arch, impressed and a little envious – though you’re… not sure of who.

“Good boy,” Ghost rumbles, “my good boy.”

“Aye, mind taking me for a pish, then?” Johnny grumbles.

You cough a laugh as Ghost shakes his head with exasperation. But Johnny gets his wish, unclipped and led away just like you were. It sounds like he snips a couple more smart comments, but you don’t catch any of it as another yawn racks you.

When they return, Johnny returns to his cushion and allows himself to be secured again without complaint. Ghost scrubs a palm through Johnny’s overgrown mohawk, then disappears into the kitchen.

“How’d ye sleep?” Johnny asks. He seems more alert now, bright eyes giving you a thorough once over, lingering on your lower body.

“Like a wee lamb,” you tease, badly mimicking his accent.

“Haud yer wheesht, it gets worse every time,” he complains, rolling his eyes.

You snicker at his scowl, even when Ghost emerges from the kitchen. Helps that he has plates piled with food in hand. He delivers one to you and the other to Soap. Dips into the kitchen once more and returns with two mugs this time.

The rich scent of coffee greets you when Ghost sets one in your reaching hands. Peering at the surface, you’re pleasantly surprised to find it just the right shade. The first sip confirms; he’s made it just the way you like. Sugar, creamer, and even a hint of cinnamon.

That should be disturbing. It should chill you to the core and turn your stomach that your serial killer kidnapper knows exactly how you take your coffee. Maybe it will later. Right now, though, it’s a familiar bit of comfort.

“Thanks,” you mumble, balancing your plate on your knees.

Ghost grunts from the couch where he’s settled. No breakfast for him, apparently. Probably on account of his mysterious identity under the mask.

It would be degrading to have to eat on the floor – except you and Johnny have done this plenty of times. On missions, in safe houses, in the base common room. Hell, even to this day, the two of you have camped out on the floor of one of your flats, watching movies with takeout between you. At least you’ve been served on actual plates with utensils.

“Och, love a man who can cook,” Johnny groans into his eggs.

You stuff a bite in your mouth, humming when you find that the scramble is really good. Bits of bacon, onion, pepper, mushroom. Hell, it’s better than you or Johnny would have made for yourselves on a normal day.

“Okay, yeah,” you admit, “this definitely makes up for the kidnapping.”

Ghost doesn’t deign that with more than a droll look as he turns on the television.

There’s even perfectly browned toast with jam! What the hell sort of serial killer is he?

“Ye’ve got any other talents?” Johnny chuckles, mouth half-full. “Did ye knit these blankets yourself?”

“You two are awfully chatty all of a sudden.”

“Good food’ll do that,” you chirp, grinning across at him.

“Didn’t realize I’d nabbed a coupla hens.”

You exchange looks with Johnny. “Bawk bawk, Ghostie boy,” he cackles.

You nearly choke, flipping him off when he laughs at your ragged coughs. And Ghost, to your eternal shock, just shakes his head.

“Call me that again and you’ll be squawking for a different reason,” he warns.

It’s more than likely not an idle threat, but there’s audible amusement in his voice too. Like he thinks Johnny is funny in spite of himself.

Odd, you think.

From what you know of scenarios like this, stalkers don’t really want the people they kidnap. Not the actual person, personality and all. They want some ideal they’ve built up in their head. Try to twist and manipulate their victim into behaving the way they’ve deluded themselves into believing they are. So far, not the case with Ghost. He doesn’t seem disenchanted by Soap’s banter or your snark.

Maybe he did his “homework” after all. Or maybe you and Johnny are on an ever-dwindling timer. Eventually, Ghost’s patience will dry up. Your reactions will stop being novel and amusing, will become frustrating and wrong. He’ll decide you two are not his perfect pets after all and go looking for another pair to fantasize about.

And then, well…

“Finish eating, kitten.”

You blink, eyes darting up. Ghost is staring from the couch, gaze fathomless, like he knows exactly where your thoughts were spiraling. You hum and shovel another bite in. Past him, Johnny is watching as well, a contemplative frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It’ll do no good to fret about the inevitable right now, so you pointedly turn your gaze to the telly.

“Aw, the news again?” you complain around your mouthful.

Not much you want to see happening in the world. You used to make a game of guessing which international conflicts Price and Gaz would be deployed to. But then it made you sad and worried, and your therapist told you to stop – for once you’d listened.

“Saturday cartoons are always a winner,” Johnny chimes in. “I loved Looney Tunes as a bairn.”

“You are a Looney Tune,” you reply.

“Och, c’mere and say that, ya wee menace.”

“You’re lucky I can’t come over there.” Punctuated by an obnoxious slurp of your coffee.

Ghost points a warning finger at you, so you stop – though not without sticking your tongue out at Johnny. He responds with a rude gesture that makes your mouth drop open in faux outrage.

“How about a movie.”

Ghost doesn’t say it like it’s a suggestion, but Johnny is sure to impart his opinion anyway.

“Aye, let’s watch a horror movie. We can all compare notes.”

“I’m partial to slashers,” you add.

“Are you now?” Ghost drawls.

You blink at him once and stuff the rest of your toast – a not inconsiderable chunk – into your stupid, traitorous mouth.

“Good idea. Who’s that big bloke with the mask and the knife? Hunts horny campers down?” Johnny asks, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.

You tilt your head, point at Ghost with an arched eyebrow. Johnny’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

“Jason Vorhees,” Ghost answers, flat and unamused.

“Aye, that’s the bitch,” Johnny crows, snapping his fingers. “Cousin of yours, then?”

This time you do choke, breadcrumbs straight down your windpipe. You have absolutely no business crying with laughter in a serial killer’s house – at that serial killer’s expense, no less – but here you are, trying desperately not to suffocate on breakfast.

“Right then,” Ghost sighs.

He rocks to his feet and lumbers to Johnny. His giggles taper off as Ghost approaches, though a shit-eating grin remains plastered wide across his face. He tilts his head back, opens his mouth to say something else obnoxious. Before he can make a single noise, two of Ghost’s thick fingers plunge past his lips.

He jolts, tries to jerk back, but Ghost just follows and pins him against the wall with a leg planted between his thighs, knee to his chest.

“If you bite down,” Ghost rumbles, “you won’t like what happens next.”

Biting looks like the last thing on Johnny’s mind. His eyes go half-lidded and hazy as Ghost’s wrist flexes, petting at his tongue and teasing at his gag reflex.

“You’re cute, pup,” Ghost coos, “problem is, you know it.”

You press your lips together; your input probably isn’t wise at this moment. But yes, he’s absolutely right.

He draws his hand back a bit, hooks his fingers behind Johnny’s bottom teeth and gives a little shake.

“I know you’re all riled up, but it’s not time to play yet,” Ghost condescends, like… well, like he’s humoring a naughty pet. “Now, be good or you won’t get to play at all. Understood?”

Johnny warbles an affirmative noise, tongue flicking over Ghost’s scarred and tattooed knuckles. He allows it for a moment, long enough for a droplet of spit to sneak down Johnny’s chin. Then he steps back to let Johnny breathe, wiping wet fingers on his cheek.

“Good.” He turns and catches your eye. “That goes for you as well.”

“I’m just sitting here!” you protest, offended.

He points at you again, fingertips still shiny with Johnny’s saliva. A (not) small part of you is sorely tempted to see what he’ll do if you push your luck. The ache in your ass dissuades you, but only just. You deflate, turning your face away haughtily.

“Understood,” you grumble.

From the corner of your eye, you watch him duck to collect Johnny’s plate and empty mug, then blink in shock as he crosses the room to do the same with yours. You stare as he takes it all back to the kitchen, followed soon by a telltale rattle of dishes in the sink.

When your eyes cut to Johnny, he’s also gawking at the doorway.

“Do you… get him?” you ask.

“Not a bit.”

Ghost ends up choosing the original 1978 Halloween. You curl up on your cushion with your blanket around your shoulders, bobbing along to the opening theme. After a moment, that creeping sense of being watched itches at your shoulders. You turn to find both men watching you with unnerving affection.

“What?” you ask, flustered. “It’s a classic!”

Ghost obliges to turn back to the screen, but Johnny’s eyes linger. You wrinkle your nose and make a show of ignoring him. Even still, you feel his attention on your profile. It makes you fidgety, so you force yourself to sit still until he finally refocuses on the movie.

It’s easy to settle in after that; Halloween is one of your favorites after all. Nothing like a big scary masked dude with an unrelenting and uncompromising obsession. You remember that Michael Myers was one of your first guilty wanks as a teenager, not sure why you found him attractive, just that you did.

Oh, if only you knew.

Halfway through, your hip starts to protest the extended stint on the floor. As soft as the dog bed is, it’s no substitute for a proper cushion or mattress. You try repositioning, legs extended, then folded, then bent. Nothing eases the building ache though, and finally you relent to stand.

It draws Johnny and Ghost’s attention again, the former frowning when he sees how you’re favoring your leg.

“Acting up?” he asks.

“Just need to stretch,” you say, waving away his concern.

It’s more than that and you know it. Between the fight at the cabin, crawling around yesterday, and a lack of meds, you’re lucky that your hip is only just starting to hurt. Borrowed time, at this point. If you sit down now, chances are that you won’t be able to get up on your own again.

Johnny knows it too, based on the tension in his jaw. But he spares your pride and pretends to believe you, turning back to the telly – though you know he’s sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Ghost is not so polite.

His stare is so heavy it threatens to knock your good leg out from under you. Like Johnny, you pretend to watch the movie, working through exercises the PT taught you. It helps a bit, though you neither lay down nor put much weight on it. You settle for leaning against the wall, absently fiddling with the chain of your leash.

Ghost abruptly stands, one of those uncanny fluid movements that remind you why he’s so deadly. He doesn’t say a word, just disappears into the back hall. Restroom, you figure, and turn round again. In the back of your mind, your spine prickles. That instinctual wariness of taking your eyes off a lurking predator. It’s not like it would do you much good to see him coming anyway.

Doesn’t stop you from startling when fingertips caress the back of your neck. You’re not surprised that you didn’t hear him, but you didn’t even notice his shadow this time. The weight of the leash disappears as it coils onto the cushion at your feet.

You still, shock and confusion freezing you to the spot. Is this another game?

Ghost saunters back to the couch, lounges closer to one arm rather than dead center like usual. He may be facing the screen, but you know he’s scrutinizing your reaction – or lack thereof. After an extended moment, he leans forward, elbow on his knee and hand extended towards you, palm up.

“Here, kitty,” he calls.

You hesitate, caught on distrust and pride. He wiggles his fingers a bit, makes a clicking noise with his tongue like he’s luring a stray. Another beat as you consider… but maybe you really are a cat because curiosity wins out. You slink across the living room until you’re hovering at the far end from him.

“That’s it,” Ghost croons, “c’mon.”

Slowly, carefully, you place a hand on the cushion. His eyes glint with satisfaction, so you settle more of your weight and place the other hand a little closer to him. He hums and leans back in a deliberate gesture to allow you space. You slide your knee up, all but entirely on the couch now – but you stop. Wait.

Ghost just observes, an amused crinkle around his eyes. He doesn’t coax again or try to reach for you. That, more than anything, lures you into crawling fully onto the cushion, scrunched up against the arm of the couch.

“’S alright, little one. Stretch out that leg.”

You blink, mouth parting on words he’s robbed you of. It is… an unexpectedly kind gesture. But then he hasn’t been needlessly cruel, has he? Okay, yes, he spanked you raw last night, but that was a clear chain of action-transgression-consequence. He’s sort of gone out of his way to make you and Johnny comfortable, even if he’s a manipulative asshole.

A glance at Johnny decides you. There’s a glimmer of genuine respect for Ghost in his eye.

You ease across the cushions inch by inch, letting your legs extend until your toes are centimeters from Ghost’s thigh. Only then does he touch you, a warm calloused hand curling around your ankle. His thumb rubs light circles over the ball joint, hypnotic little spirals that leech the tension from your muscles.

“Settle in, now,” he says, “we’re almost at the good part.”

And you have no reason not to, so you do. The extra padding is an immediate improvement and you’re able to enjoy the rest of the movie with minimal readjustments. Ghost never seems to mind, just waits until you’ve rotated the socket to your satisfaction and resumes his gentle petting.

As soon as the credits start rolling, Johnny sits forward and rattles his chain.

“Well now, I’m feeling left out. I’ve been perfectly well behaved,” he complains. “I want in on the snuggle party too.”

You perk up. Johnny is always a good movie companion.

Ghost snorts. “That’s what you call well-behaved?”

“Aye, and if you’ve been stalking us for that long, you know it.”

You hum in agreement. Johnny sitting quietly through an entire movie is something of a feat.

“It doesn’t seem fair,” you chime in. Ghost pins you with a skeptical look and you, in a moment of inspiration, widen your eyes at him. “Please? Sir?”

He squeezes your ankle, eyes narrow. “You’re not subtle.”

You wiggle a little closer, ignoring the twinge in your hip. “Please?”

“Alright,” he grouses. “Enough.”

He stands, dislodging your feet, and crosses to your cushion. At first, you’re afraid that he’s going to leash you again. But then he unlocks the chain from the wall anchor and crosses back to Johnny. He kneels down, fiddles with the links and padlocks for a second before grabbing a firm hold of Johnny’s collar and tugging.

“This is a privilege, you understand?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “If you act up, it’s not your ass I’ll be taking it out of. Clear?”

Johnny’s eyes flash, a stormy glance sent your way in understanding. “Aye, crystal.”

“Give us a bark like a good mutt.”

Johnny’s lip curls, but he delivers a sullen little “woof” that seems to satisfy Ghost. He releases the collar and returns to the couch. This time, he takes the side your upper half is lounging on. Before you can scramble to make room, he lifts you up, takes your spot, and drops your torso onto his lap.

“Hey,” you grumble.

His fingers bury in your hair, equal parts restraining and pacifying. You wriggle around, dig your shoulder into his thigh as revenge. It not that his huge thigh doesn’t make for a nice pillow – the issue is that it does. Warm and firm to support your neck, but still a generous layer of soft tissue for your cheek to snuggle into.

“Consider this a trade for letting the pup onto the furniture,” Ghost drawls.

You subside as Johnny, now on an extended leash with the addition of yours, takes the other end. He gathers your legs in his lap and immediately starts massaging his big, warm hands along the damaged nerve pathway. You make a quiet noise, mouth a “thank you” that earns you a warm look.

“What’s next, then?” he asks. “I’m still partial to that Jason bloke.”

You snicker, earn a tug to the hair from Ghost.

“Something spooky?” you suggest. “Ghosts?”

This time he pinches your cheek hard enough to smart. You whine, almost whack yourself in the face while swatting at him. He does end up putting on a supernatural movie next, much to your delight. It’s something generic that you’ve seen a million times, but the familiarity soothes you.

Twenty minutes later, it strikes you how domestic it all is. Ghost is still playing with your hair, Johnny is digging his thumb into a sore muscle – and despite everything, you’re warm and comfortable and… feel more at ease than you ever have alone in your own apartment.

Well, shit. That’s… that’s probably not healthy.

Thankfully, your thoughts are interrupted by Johnny’s clever hands finding a point that sends a shockwave down your calf and up your spine. You gasp, body jerking, and then loose a soft moan. Ghost’s hand pauses in your hair.

“Yeah?” Johnny asks, voice dipping low and rough. “That the spot, bonnie?”

You hum the affirmative, all you’re able to manage as his fingers press into it again. Persistent pressure, kneading tender muscle where the worst of the pain seems to originate. Every tiny shift ignites another round of sparks through that side of your body, plucking quiet noises from your throat. It hurts as much as it feels good, one of those weird dichotomies of the human body not knowing how to interpret stimulation.

Eventually he eases up, gently working out the last of the tension until you’re little more than a puddle spread between his and Ghost’s laps.

“Thank you, Johnny,” you mumble into Ghost’s leg.

“Any time, darlin’.”

His hands don’t stop moving, though. No longer massaging, just… touching. Not that you mind. You’ve always liked his touch a little more than you should as a friend, and after your pseudo-confession last night, you’re practically squirming for more contact.

He seems all too happy to oblige, one hand anchoring on your knee. The other edges further and further between your thighs, stroking tantalizing patterns across sensitive skin. Even through your joggers his touch is hot, sends tingles into the pit of your stomach.

Johnny’s good with fire, and the one he’s building in your body smolders like coal. Reminds you of underground mines, burning quietly beneath the surface until they finally erupt above ground, scorching everything.

You’ve carried a torch for him so long you wouldn’t even notice if you started to burn.

It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on the movie as his hand creeps higher and higher. You’re starting to react; it’s only a matter of time before the evidence becomes obvious. You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth, heart beating hard and fast in your chest.

When you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are already on you, knowing and heated.

“Johnny.”

You both jump at Ghost’s sharp tone, eyes flying to him.

“What did I say?” he rumbles. “Behave.”

“I am!”

“Are you going to settle down, or do I need to make you?” Ghost asks, implacable.

You swallow, try to sit up to diffuse the stubborn light in Johnny’s eyes. Ghost’s fingers hook deftly in your collar and keep you pinned down. All you can manage is to twist a bit and shake your head when Johnny’s gaze darts to you. His hand tenses on your knee, jaw twitching with the clench of his teeth. You can see him teetering on the edge of something rash; his temper is a glass threatening to tip over and shatter.

And if that happens, this tentative peace is over. Ghost will punish you both, and probably take away these comfort “privileges” as collateral.

“Ghost?” You murmur. There’s a beat where you think he’ll ignore you. And then his chin tilts, dark eyes glinting when he sees the shy turn to your mouth. It’s not entirely an act either, your face heats as you struggle to hold his gaze. “When the movie is over… could we… could we play?”

He grunts, eyes narrowing – though you can’t tell if it’s with amusement or aggravation at your antics. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it from between your teeth. You let him glide the pad of it along your canines and then back to your molars, opening your mouth to accommodate his hand. Squeeze your thighs together and realize Johnny’s hand is still there, make a soft noise knowing that he can feel the effect this is having on you.

“That pent up already, hm?” Ghost muses.

You nod, careful that you don’t nick skin. He blows out a long breath as if you’re asking for something terribly inconvenient. Then he turns back to Johnny. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, only to offer it with an audible smirk.

“Well, pup?”

You purposefully flex your thighs around Johnny’s hand, a silent plea to mind his temper. It proves to be unnecessary. His eyes are locked on Ghost’s hand, his thumb glistening with your saliva. Johnny’s full mouth parts, tongue unfurling decadently over his bottom lip.

“Is that it, mm?” Ghost purrs. “You just need to play? Need to get all that energy out?”

He smears the pad of his thumb down the midline of Johnny’s tongue and Johnny moans, like the secondhand taste of you is ambrosia. You bite the inside of your cheek and swallow back an answering noise; don’t want to interrupt the moment.

Ghost presses down, pins Johnny’s tongue.

“Puppy needs his exercise, or he gets antsy,” Ghost chuckles. “Alright, then. Be good until this movie is over and then we’ll set you right, yeah?”

Johnny hums agreement, tongue curling around Ghost’s thumb as his thick lashes flutter.

“Atta boy.”

Ghost indulges him a moment longer, then pulls his hand away. Johnny’s brow furrows like he’s going to protest, but then he clears his throat and nestles into the cushions, face pinkening.

The hand in your collar begins to stroke the skin around it, lingering on your erratic pulse and the bob of your throat. It’s distracting, keeps that flame burning bright in your belly. Johnny’s hand is still between your thighs, but even without moving, you’re all too aware of it.

“Goes for you too, kitten,” Ghost warns when you start fidgeting.

You tuck your face against his thigh and force yourself to lie still. The movie is a lost cause at this point. You’re just counting down the seconds until it’s over. Johnny isn’t in much better state; you can feel him pressing against your calf, thick and hard.

In your head, an entirely different movie is playing. Ghost toying with Johnny the previous night, big hands stroking his cock like they belonged there. The way Johnny’s face twisted with pleasure and desperation. You can almost hear the sounds he made, the way ecstasy shredded his voice.

And then you blink, and the credits are rolling.

It barely registers before you’re smothered. Johnny stretches the entirety of his body along yours, one long, muscular line of blissful heat crowding you into the cushions. His mouth smashes into yours, nothing neat or restrained about it.

A little, hazy part of you thinks that if you’ve been carrying a torch, Johnny has been tending a bonfire. At least that’s the way he kisses you. Like it’s the end and beginning of his whole world, like any second his tongue isn’t exploring your mouth is a waste of air. You can’t breathe without him filling your lungs, can barely even move to reciprocate.

And god, do you want to.

The best you can manage is to curl your fingers into his shirt and give him all the access he’s clambering for. He keeps pressing and pressing, wedging his thigh between yours and snaking an arm beneath you to squish your chests together. His teeth scrape your lip when you rock your hips, moaning as you finally get barest hint of the friction you crave.

He gets more frantic when you gather the brain cells to move your hands, sneaking them beneath his shirt. His stomach flexes as you trace the tempting lines you’ve admired so long, physically mapping the hills and valleys you memorized with your eyes. You gently scratch your fingers through the downy hair beneath his navel and feel him twitch against your hip. Do it again and get the barest, eager rock of his hips.

You’re lightheaded when he finally pulls away, though he doesn’t go far. His beard rasps along your cheek and jaw as he licks and sucks down to your neck. Your eyes flutter as you tilt your head back, trying to give him room.

You find Ghost’s eyes instead.

The reminder that he’s right there, that you and Johnny are making out like horny teenagers in his lap, sends a wicked thrill through you. It feels dangerous, like you’re provoking a wild animal, dangling food in front of a starving beast.

Johnny nips your collarbone hard; it’s going to leave a mark. Between one heartbeat and the next, Ghost tangles his fingers in Johnny’s mohawk, tugging him back from you with a chuckle.

“Easy now, pup,” he says, “play nice.”

“This is nice,” Johnny growls, flashing his teeth. His thigh flexes at the apex of yours, sending a shudder down your spine.

“Then we’ll just have to train you better, won’t we?”

With his free hand, Ghost rucks up your shirt. A tiny part of you thinks to protest his assumed entitlement to your body, but the thought fades when Johnny literally drools. You make a soft noise, get shushed by Ghost while Johnny’s pupils swallow the blue of his eyes. When your shirt can’t get any higher, you help Ghost shimmy it the rest of the way off, leaving your torso bare.

He presses against Johnny’s head, who gladly dips down to continue mauling your chest – only to be stopped just before he can reach you. His mouth hovers at the hollow of your throat, hot breaths puffing out against your skin.

“Well?” Ghost mocks.

Johnny’s tongue darts out, tasting, testing. When he tries to get closer, lips curling back from his teeth, Ghost stops him again. Only allows him close enough for the barest, sweetest brush of his mouth. Understanding, Johnny groans with annoyance, but Ghost is unyielding. He guides Johnny’s mouth to your nipple, hard and pebbled in the open air.

You moan as Johnny circles his tongue, spirals that get tighter and tighter until he’s flicking at it. He smirks when your eyes meet, laps with the flat of his tongue and then blows cool air. You squirm and pant, wanting more, wanting to lean into his mouth, but can’t with Ghost’s wide hand stretched across your collarbones.

Johnny’s teasing doesn’t last long either when he’s constrained to the smallest taste of you. Finesse devolves as hunger grows, his tongue losing its rhythm and technique in favor of sloppy, desperate licks. Saliva drips onto your chest and ribs, his appreciative grunts pitching into pleading whines.

“Something you want?” Ghost taunts.

“Let me…” Johnny breathes. “Let me…”

Ghost just chuckles again and drags Johnny’s face down your abdomen, smushing his cheek against the skin so that his beard leaves red marks in his wake. At your lower stomach, though, Johnny puts up the first real resistance. He turns his head and presses his parted lips to the angry red scars climbing over your waistband.

“Johnny…” you murmur, a little heartbroken at the way his face twists.

Ghost eases up a bit, gives him room to worship the injury that ended your military career. His tongue traces old suture marks, wide gashes where shrapnel embedded. He rubs his lips against the whirls of burns. You slip a hand from between your bodies, rub your thumb against his cheek until his gaze locks with yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your skin. It sounds like it comes straight from his soul.

Your chest hitches with a surge of emotion.

“I’m not dead,” you reply, just as quiet, but fierce. “Stop treating me like I am.”

His eyes flicker, ignite, and burn. He sinks his teeth into a clear patch of skin amongst the carnage. You yelp even through a grin, leaning into the bruising pain until Ghost tugs playfully at his hair.

“Release, pup,” he says after a moment.

Johnny does, but not without sucking first to ensure a livid mark is left behind. He licks his lips as Ghost pulls him away. You’re pulsing against Johnny’s thigh, wish you had even a centimeter of room to grind against his leg.

Ghost seems to notice, cooing at your flushed face as his free hand pinches your nipple. It’s a delicious sharp counterpoint to the sweet ache of Johnny’s earlier attention. You cry out, want to arch for more as much as you want to hide away, and you’re unable to do either. He does the same to the other, twisting as he plucks the flesh to aching sensitivity.

“Getting restless, kitten?” He mocks as you mewl and squirm. “I told you that you’d get to play too.”

You nod, blinking up at him as frustration starts to sting your eyes. He clicks his tongue and untangles his hand from Johnny’s hair, snaps your waistband.

“Off.”

Johnny, bless him, scrambles to help you strip, tossing your pants over the side of the couch. You hiss as your sore ass rubs against the cushions, less pleasant than the soft lining of your joggers.

Ghost outright laughs and manhandles you around onto your front, strokes a covetous hand down your back.

“C’mon, little one. Arch your back like a good kitty.” You’re already complying when he adds, “Show Johnny his toy.”

Syrupy heat washes over you, drips along your spine. Your moan twines with Johnny’s, lust drunk. You plant your knees as far apart as you can and tilt your hips, leaning your weight into Ghost’s lap. Johnny curses softly under his breath.

“Go on, pup. You can touch,” Ghost purrs.

Suddenly Johnny’s hands are everywhere. Your chest, your hips, your thighs, your ass. Stroking and kneading and pulling and squeezing. It’s an overload of sensation after that carefully controlled contact; Johnny’s like a kid let loose in a candy store. All enthusiasm, no restraint, so eager to glut himself on you.

Ghost’s hand cups the back of your neck, thumb caressing the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“That’s it, sweetness. Let him have his fun, get all that energy out.”

You whimper as Johnny licks a hot stripe up the back of your thigh. Punctuates with teeth digging into the crease where it meets your ass.

“Wanna eat you out,” Johnny slurs, breaths heavy against you. “Lemme eat you out, Kit. Promise I’ll make it so good f’you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Feel like you’re going to shake apart and he hasn’t even touched you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whine.

“Fuck, baby, yeah,” he groans, spreading your cheeks. “Say my name jus’ like that.”

You gasp as he seals his mouth against your fluttering hole, spare syllables tripping off your tongue. He goes down on you the same way he kissed you. Near feral, licking and sucking, drool dripping. You open up for him embarrassingly fast, can feel droplets of your own arousal falling onto the couch below.

He massages his tongue against your walls, growls when your hips twitch at the too-much-too-fast of it all. His fingers hook around your thighs and yank you back into his face. You yelp, reach for something to feel anchored. Find a large, calloused hand and grip tightly as Ghost hums over your head.

“Doing so well, pup,” he rumbles. “Good boy.”

Johnny curses, wicked vibrations down your nerve pathways. His enthusiasm somehow doubles with the praise. He fucks into you with his tongue, curving the tip each time he draws it out, only to plunge as deep as he can again. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream when he fits a finger inside, pulling gently at your entrance, gaping you open a bit to give his tongue more room. It’s intimate and filthy and perfect.

“Don’t be mean, kitty,” Ghost says. The hand on your neck slips around to toy with your sensitive nipples, pinching and tugging until you’re writhing back onto Johnny’s face. “Tell the puppy how well he’s doing.”

It takes a second to remember what words are. And then another to gather enough air to speak.

“S-so good, Johnny,” you mewl. “Feels… feels so… g-gonna cum if you keep…”

He groans long and loud, twisting his wrist to press his thumb against the nerves past your hole. Your eyes roll back, realize you’re going to make good on your word even sooner than you expected. Then his finger crooks inside you, finds that spot that sends your brain into the stratosphere.

“There, there, Johnny please, right there, don’t stop,” you chant, plead, cry.

He abuses it ruthlessly, pressing and petting until your broken little “ah, ah, ahs” go up an octave and you’re cumming with a scream. You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted, rocking into it as wave after wave threatens to knock your legs out from under you. Johnny milks every last drop of pleasure from you, his rhythm not faltering once while you ride it out.

Your orgasm finally ebbs, but Johnny is still going. Isn’t even slowing.

“Johnny, ‘s too much,” you whimper, trying to crawl away and failing miserably. “Please, please, ’s too – you have to…”

“Told me not to stop, love,” he reminds without pulling his face away. “I don’t plan to.”

“N-no, Johnny,” you start, but he dives right back in and steals the words from your mouth.

He drags you like a riptide into a sea of overstimulation, drowning you in pleasure bordering on pain. You can’t even get your muscles to cooperate enough to push at him, tortured with aftershocks that leech any strength or resolve from your body.

So you settle on your only hope for salvation.

“Ghost,” you sob, “Ghost, please make him stop. C-can’t take it. Please.”

He hums as if debating, lets the moment extend until you wail at the threat of another finger against your soaked entrance.

“Enough, pup.”

Johnny practically snarls, teeth grazing oversensitive skin and making you squeal.

“Enough.”

You feel him shift, though your eyes are closed so you don’t see what he does. All you know is that Johnny’s mouth and hands are gone all at once, leaving you wrung out and trembling. There’s a beat of charged silence. Then two sets of hands help you stretch out your legs, rubbing any lingering soreness from your hips.

You squeeze Ghost’s hand in silent thanks, receive one in return that makes you blush brighter than the orgasm did.

“Don’t pout, pup,” Ghost chides, amusement thick in his voice. “Show me how much fun you’re having.”

Fabric rustles behind you. You peek over your shoulder, suck in a breath when Johnny’s cock springs from his joggers. There’s a noticeable wet patch on the gray fabric. His head is flushed red, shiny with precum, so hard it looks painful. You bite your lip at the sight of him so close, so big. Half of you wants to climb on his dick and ride him until you pass out, the other half is still reeling.

“Let’s give the kitty a break, yeah?” Ghost says. Who would have guessed he’d be the voice of reason here. “Play with yourself for us.”

Watching Johnny fist his own throbbing cock is the singular most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. He’s gorgeous, lit by the TV screen and soft lamplight, hips rocking into his hand like he can’t convince his body to commit to the rhythm. The rosy head peeks in and out of view, pearls of pre slicking the way. Every few strokes, he twists his wrist and squeezes a little harder, and his thumb sweeps over the weeping slit.

“Pretty boy,” Ghost croons, “so good for us, isn’t he, kitten?”

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Johnny,” you rasp.

He moans, head rolling back on his shoulders. Remembering how he reacted to Ghost earlier, you keep talking.

“I wanna choke on your dick, Johnny. Want you to fuck my throat until I’m crying.”

“Kit.”

He sounds gutted. You make a soft noise, part your legs a bit so that he can see the mess he’s made of you.

“Gonna make you cum in all my holes,” you continue, “drip with you all day.”

Every salacious thought you’ve ever had spills from your tingling lips, no filter or shame to stop them now. Johnny’s hand speeds up on his cock with each word, brutally fast. You can see him twitching, know he must be close from the way his voice is rising and breaking.

“Stop,” Ghost says like a gavel strike.

Johnny’s hand freezes, seemingly from sheer befuddlement rather than willing obedience. His orgasm recedes, replaced with frustration.

“Ghost, why—”

“You don’t want the kitten to get you off, then? My mistake.”

Johnny perks up instantly while your gut clenches – and you can’t even tell if its anticipation or dismay.

“No, wait, ‘m sorry. Please, Ghost.”

“That’s more like it.”

He snatches a fallen throw pillow from the floor – the same one from the previous night. Again, it goes under your hips, propping your ass in the air. This time, he nudges your thighs closer together. Johnny seems to catch on, makes a quiet, pleased noise. You don’t understand until he straddles your thighs and the slick head of his cock nudges at the seam of your ass.

You whine as his hand plants on your lower back.

“What?” Ghost mocks, “You didn’t think playtime was over, did you? ‘S not very fair to Johnny, is it?”

You make a vague noise of agreement. Johnny should be able to get off, and you’re pleased that he’s using you to do it.

“Sweet thing,” Ghost chuckles, petting between your shoulders.

You press your forehead against his thigh, sink your teeth into the muscle as Johnny’s thick cock sinks between your thighs. There’s hardly any friction, wet from his mouth and your combined arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he groans. “Tense up for me, doll. Make it nice and tight.”

You squeeze your thighs together and cant your hips just so, making the perfect channel for him to fuck into. The head of his cock drags against sensitive, swollen flesh, bullies overworked nerves with each jerk of his hips. He’s not being gentle; don’t think he could manage it if you asked.

Even after your “break,” it’s still overwhelming. You struggle to lay there and take it, hands clenching and unclenching in Ghost’s pants. Find yourself mouthing mindlessly at the sizeable bulge pressing against your cheek. Reluctance and embarrassment long abandoned, you turn your head to press your tongue against the fabric.

“Ghost, can I?” you ask. “Please, I-I need something to… please?”

He chuckles roughly, sinks his fingers into your hair to keep your head in place as he rocks against your face.

“That what you need, little one? Need a cock in your mouth to distract you from how good the pup is making you feel?”

You nod as best you can, writhing beneath Johnny’s weight and the awful pleasure that sings through you every time his cock catches on your hole.

“S’pose you’ve been good.”

Ghost dips his other hand into his sweats, allows you to tug them down a bit. His cock is somehow bigger than Johnny’s, almost intimidating. Long and thick, curved towards his stomach, gratifyingly hard just from watching you and Johnny play. A pretty silver ring loops through the head – a Prince Albert, your mind supplies.

You swallow him down without a thought, moan at the way the piercing rubs against your tongue. It’s an instant obsession, you can’t help flicking at it each time you rise up. He seems to enjoy the special attention, grunting when you suck obscenely at the head.

“Oh fuck,” Johnny groans behind you. “You two are so fucking hot, it’s not fair.”

He thrusts harder, more erratic. Your thighs clench tighter as you take Ghost down as far as you can, gagging, eyes watering. He grunts, hips twitching, lodging himself just that little bit deeper. You can’t breathe, but you don’t really want to. Not when you can feel metal teasing the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Johnny, keep being good and maybe I’ll let you have this one day,” Ghost groans.

With the hand in your hair, he guides you into a proper rhythm. Not as demanding as you’d expect a man like him to be, but he’s not coddling you either. You have to get air when you can, actively swallow past your gag reflex. Hum and moan as Johnny continues to grind, getting wetter as his end approaches.

You’re distracted enough by Ghost’s cock ruining your mouth that Johnny’s rutting is almost bearable.

“Fuck, shit, I-I’m gonna…”

“Atta boy, Johnny,” Ghost growls, voice gravel. “Cum all over our pretty kitty.”

You shudder as Johnny buries himself one last time. Heat splatters across your stomach, then as he pulls back, all over your thighs, ass, hole. His breath stutters as he milks himself through it, then smears the head through the mess. One of his fingers toys at your entrance, massages his cum in there.

You keen, teeth accidentally scraping Ghost’s shaft. Thankfully, he seems to enjoy that, a ragged groan thundering through his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls. “Get over here, mutt.”

Johnny, dazed and sated, stumbles off the couch and crawls between Ghost’s parted knees.

“Up, little one,” he instructs you.

You follow his guidance to the top half of his shaft, where it’s still easy to breathe and move your tongue.

“Well?” Ghost says to Johnny. “Pick up the slack.”

And soon you feel his breath caressing your face, his forehead bumping gently against your chin. It takes a bit of doing, but you manage to coordinate, licking and sucking and worshipping Ghost’s cock. Your lips meet in the middle, exchange messy kisses, Johnny moaning at the taste of Ghost’s precum on your tongue.

It’s messy and hot, humid with shared air and sweat and lust. You dip the tip of your tongue into Ghost’s slit where the piercing threads. He curses, hand tightening in your hair. As one, you and Johnny double your efforts, finding those most sensitive spots and working at them until Ghost pants, ragged, “Just like that.”

Your only warning is the noise Johnny makes in the back of his throat. Then Ghost’s dick jerks violently and salt explodes across your tongue. He pulls you off almost immediately, spurts across your nose and cheek, then yanks Johnny up to receive the same. The two of you lap up the remains, then, at Ghost’s urging, clean each other up.

In the aftermath, you drop your head heavily into Ghost’s lap. Beside you, Johnny slumps over, his arm looping tiredly around your back.

“Well done,” Ghost murmurs, a hand on each of your heads. “Better now?”

You exchange glassy, stupid glances with Johnny, twin dopey grins tugging at your mouths.

“Yes, Ghost,” you chorus.

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Masterlist

[jaegerdilf]

Imagine Itoshi Rin getting fed up with you acting like a brat in public so as soon as you guys get home he just bends you tf over🫢

pairings: itoshi rin x f! reader

warnings: brat taming + orgasm denial + dacryphilia + begging + mean dom! rin + fingering + oral

💌: my rinnie <3 i adore him thank u for this !!

when you behave like a brat it takes everything in rin to stop himself from gripping your jaw and forcing you to apologize, instead he clenches his fist and tightens his jaw, eyes locked on you while you pretend to not notice, continuing to run your mouth and rile him up.

as soon as he gets you alone, rin’s on you in a second. he manhandles you and throws degrading words your way, grip so tight it leaves you sore the next morning. he’s such a jerk, rubbing your clit and teasing your wet cunt until you’re begging for him to just fuck you already. but you should know better than to demand anything when you spent the entire day acting out, you’re lucky he’s even touching you.

he gets sick of your whines and slides his thick fingers inside your pussy, curling them and thumbing your clit, waiting for your orgasm to build just to stop his movements when you’re about to cum. “rinnie! please, please i was so close!” you cry, grabbing at his wrist desperately and attempting to grind down on his fingers.

“shut the fuck up,” he spits, bringing a hand down on your pussy, loving the way you squeal and flinch from the sensation. “can’t even use your manners after actin’ like such a slut all day.”

“please, rinnie, i’m sorry! so, so sorry i promise i won’t do it again, just please!”

you both know you’ll continue to misbehave because you love how mean he can get and rin can’t bring himself to show you mercy, too angry and wound up after how mouthy you were, and if you can act out then you can take your punishment too, he decides.

that’s why he continues to bring you to the edge, thrusting into your pussy with his fingers just how you like, even getting on his knees and tonguefucking your sensitive cunt but never allowing you the pleasure of reaching your climax. he does this until you’re delirious, brows furrowed and tears wetting your cheeks, sobbing and pleading for him to finally let you cum.

[petit-etoile]

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling,  if  you  love  me  say  it  back

pairing  .  ⊱   astarion x tav wordcount  .  ⊱   3,604 content warnings  .  ⊱  canon compliant temporary character death,  tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like,  astarion isn't a vampire yet,   tav is gender neutral other tags  .  ⊱   canon compliant,  canon temporary character death,  introspection,  p.orn without plot,  oral s/ex,  desk s.ex,  inappropriate use of a cravat,  c.reampie archiveofourown  .  ⊱   here.

taglist  .  ⊱  @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added  .  ⊱   here .

summary  .  ⊱   The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses  —  and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him  —  he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening. 

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual  —  ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that  —  ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant  —  you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something  —  worth talking about  —  ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good  —  ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening  —  but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

[ahundredtimesover]

Title: Please Love Me Drabble Bonus (10) - I want this so much.

WC: 12,663

Tags/Warnings: foul language; alcohol consumption; talks of pregnancy, explicit sexual content (kissing, dirty talk, fingering, breast play, overstimulation, oral (m & female receiving), straddling, unprotected penetrative sex), lots of fluff; Seven JK (18+)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi. I’m on a break from my indefinite break. Seven JK was a burst of inspiration (so were his WeLives bc dreamy househusband alert!) and PLM!JK definitely has reasons to f*ck his wife seven days a week. So please enjoy this fluff piece because it’s happening!💕

“Babe, is the curling iron still on?”

Your husband calls out from the walk-in closet behind you, and you yell out your yes as you place the item in question on the dresser, ruffling your hair up a bit and styling it as you wish. 

You're so immersed in trying to figure out what look you want to go for that you don’t immediately notice Jungkook standing next to you, iron in hand as he curls the edges of his smooth locks. When your eyes flit to him, you’re momentarily hypnotized, your movements stopping for a few seconds before you’re able to regain your bearings and decide on a loose bun to match the low-back satin dress you have on. 

“You okay there, babe?” Jungkook asks as he picks up on your silence, with you seemingly avoiding looking at him. 

You nod in response and he smirks, feeling like he knows what’s got you acting like this. He’s known for a while that he affects you in a certain way; your trip to Busan not long ago reinforced that, given the way your body reacted to everything he did at your command. But still, knowing that he makes you flustered even with clothes on gives him that boost of confidence and that air of cockiness that he knows you adore. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, turning to look at you while you keep your eyes on the mirror.

You finally face him and release a deep sigh. “You look really good,” you admit, your cute little frown melting all the knots in his body. 

“Why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?” He chuckles, flashing you that boyish smile that he also knows drives you wild. 

“Because…” you start, your arms crossed now to establish some distance. “I’m gonna have to control myself around you and behave but that’s hard when you look… like that.”

“Who says you have to control yourself and behave? You’re my wife and you have my permission to keep your hands on me any time and you know, misbehave or something,” he cheekily responds, his smug face making you want to smack his chest and pull his hair out of lust and frustration. 

“We’ll be in public, Kook!”

“Tae booked a private club, though.”

You frown at his teasing but it only urges your husband to tease even more. 

“They also have private rooms so when you absolutely cannot help yourself, we can always get one and maybe I’ll let you put on a show for me. Or I can do that, it depends if you still have yourself together by then.”

“Kook! You’re not helping,” you pout, and much as he wants to keep going, he also just wants to wrap his arms around you and that’s what he does, pulling you close and softly smiling at you. 

“I’m kidding. Sort of,” he chuckles. “But we can also just skip the party and stay in, you know? I’ll keep my clothes on until you take them off me, or until you ask me to, just like last time,” he smirks now. “And we can just do whatever we want. You won’t have to worry about controlling yourself or anything.”

“Tempting, but we did promise Taehyung that we’d come tonight,” you say, wrapping your arm around his neck while you fix the strands of his hair, knowing the style he wants to go for. “Opening an art gallery is kind of a big deal. And I am a featured artist in his collection so we absolutely have to be there.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. “I won’t hear the end of it if we skip it. But at least I’ve got a reason to swap the business wear for something different. And you know, fluster my wife because of it, make her speechless and tell me I look good.”

“Ah, is that what you expected to happen,” you arch an eyebrow, feeling called out because that’s definitely what happened. 

He’s always been a little cocky but he’s amped it up recently and you’re not complaining; he has all the reasons to be. You know he knows that you love it when he is. 

“Well, I actually expected you to be on my lap right now, marking me all over and moaning out curses,” he chuckles, his laughter increasing in volume as your face distorts in feigned annoyance once more. “But I guess the outfit isn’t sexy enough.”

“Now you’re just pushing it,” you playfully smack his chest. “You don’t even wear tight clothes like this. You always said they made you feel stuffy.”

Pulling away to fully absorb Jungkook’s look, you smack yourself internally for even attempting to take him all in, only because of all the scenarios playing in your head right now. And he’s right, being on his lap and claiming him as you cuss out your pleasure is what you would be doing if you weren’t running late. But you are, and acting out all your desires would have to wait. 

“Well, since I married you, Mrs. Jeon, I’ve become quite the observant man,” he boasts. “I pick up on what turns you on and I use it to my advantage. You loved it when I had the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up and this is just the tight fit version of it.” 

Much as you want to kiss him right now, you can’t help but soften at his words. He is observant, especially when it comes to things you like about him. You remember how he’d started buying colored and patterned tops after your honeymoon years ago because you said you liked them on him. Recently, you notice that he’s been wearing jeans for his casual wear a lot more now, and how he’s kept his hair the specific length that you once said you loved on him. 

His best friends say that Jungkook was always just content on his monochromatic sweats and hoodies because they’re comfortable and don’t require much thinking when he decides to put them on, and so knowing that he keeps you in mind when he dresses up is quite sweet, especially knowing that he doesn’t really care what people say unless it’s you. And if you show that it’s something you like, Jungkook will definitely keep doing it to make you happy. 

“And the leather pants?” You ask.

“Jimin suggested it, said it fits more with a plain white shirt than jeans for a club. Do you like it?” He wonders, looking anxious, as if there’s anything he wears that you don’t like. Maybe except for this one university shirt that has holes on them that he still wears. 

“Of course I do, hun,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist now. “You look like the sexiest, most beautiful man alive but I also don’t mind if you just wore whatever you wanted. You’ll look gorgeous either way.”

“Well, some people dress for themselves, and some people also don’t mind, like me. I’ll wear anything that’s comfortable, as long as it makes my wife happy.”

“But this outfit makes me horny though.”

Jungkook smirks before licking his lips, and right when you think he’s gonna kiss your mouth as he leans forward, he goes for your neck instead, sucking a bit of flesh before he trails upwards with soft pecks towards your ear.

“That’s better,” he whispers, sending shivers all over you that he definitely feels, earning you a teasing chuckle. 

He turns to face you and sees the desire in your eyes, and he knows you’d both break eventually but still, he states, “I don’t wanna mess your lipstick, baby.”

“I don’t care,” you moan, feeling the wetness pool between your thighs now, and your words prompt Jungkook to crash his mouth against yours to taste the lust that’s expressed all over your body. 

He tastes of mint cherry and yearning and smells of deep vanilla and ecstasy. His hands trail down to your ass that he ardently squeezes while yours travel towards his hair, the soft pulls eliciting moans from him, as your hips meet his thrusts the same way that your tongue battles against his, desperate and impassioned, your beings melding into one. 

Time feels frozen as it’s just you and him. Until your phone starts ringing, incessantly, and it registers to you that it might be Nari, who you’d promised to pick up on the way to the club. 

You pull away, telling your husband that you both have to go. 

“Well, at least your lipstick’s not completely messed up,” he hums.

“Yeah, but my underwear is,” you groan, and it’s your pout and scurry towards your closet that lets Jungkook know that you’re serious. Your little make out session did turn you on and if it wasn’t for a disruption, maybe you would be on his lap right now just as he expected - more like dreamed. 

“I take it back,” he states, walking towards the bathroom where you now are. “I think the outfit’s sexy enough, don’t you think?”

You enter the private club that Taehyung booked for the party and spot less familiar faces than the official opening of the art gallery earlier in the week. Given, tonight is specifically for the fashion and entertainment crowd, a strategic decision for him who wants to attract patrons other than the usual from the art and business fields. It’s a good way to make use of his family’s connections, and it’s also another means of exposing your work to a different audience. 

It’s why Taehyung’s been excited to introduce you to the guests, making sure you meet all of them, as he goes around the space to greet them. You don’t mind, really. He has a great eye and a unique way of expressing and selling his art, and as he matches it to his target market, you find yourself learning from him, too. He even got one of them to commission you for a piece, someone who doesn’t mind waiting in line, given that you’ve been pacing your work due to health reasons. 

Taehyung finally states that he now wants to get on with the actual party, so he heads to the bar to order some shots while you walk towards the table where your husband and all your friends are. You take the seat next to Jungkook who promptly looks at you with a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Babe, why are you sitting there?”

“Where else would I sit?” You ask, sipping from a glass of water. 

Jungkook spreads his arms and nods towards his lap, causing you to burst in laughter, although he doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. 

“I won’t sit on your lap, honey,” you giggle. “I can do that at home.”

“Our friends won’t mind,” he huffs. 

“I would,” you respond. 

“He just wants to make a statement,” Jimin chimes in. “We can’t count how many girls have walked up to him asking if the seat - I mean, his lap - is taken. Why he’s even manspreading, we don’t know.”

You laugh along with your friends as you turn to your husband, as if asking him why he’s doing exactly that.

“I always had the image of men in leather pants sitting like this,” Jungkook answers. “I guess it fits the vibe.”

“Well, if you keep doing that, more women are gonna try their luck. And I can’t really blame them,” you say, moving your seat closer to him because suddenly, the idea of people hitting on your husband makes you just a little bit uneasy. 

“And they’ll keep getting rejected. I don’t know why they think that line would work,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Why did you think it would work on me?” 

“Let’s just say, you have a track record,” he smirks at you. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten how just kissing me affected you earlier. Oh baby, you have it bad for me,” he whispers now.

You’d be annoyed at him if he wasn’t right, but of course he is. It’s the boyish charm and effortless sexiness that get you all the time, and that’s on top of all the other things that make him an amazing husband and lover. 

His wiggling eyebrows let you know that he’s teasing, and your scrunched nose tells him you’re enjoying it. 

But even then, he pulls you close and softly kisses your cheek. “And I’ve got it bad for you, too, baby. I’ll do whatever you want tonight, just tell me.”

“What about a message and cuddles?” You release a deep breath. “Meeting the guests tired me a bit.”

“Then I’ll do that. We can have a bath together and sleep in, too. Does that sound good?”

You nod in response, smiling at the thought that despite your incessant teasing, you and Jungkook could edge each other with your flirting but also wouldn’t mind if one of you decides for something soft and wholesome instead. It’s not so much self-control as it is the way your relationship has come to work - sure, sex is always good; you’d push each other’s buttons for fun or even as foreplay, but pillow talk while your limbs are entangled under the sheets are just as amazing. You’ve learned that every intimate moment with him is special as it happens; you could only hope it’s an aspect of your marriage that won’t ever change. 

Your moment is disrupted when Taehyung arrives with a server and a tray of shots, with him insisting that each person has to take one. You give in even if you hadn’t planned on drinking at all, but when you say that’s all you’ll have for the rest of the night, none of your friends question you. They know you and Jungkook are actively trying to get pregnant, and consuming alcohol does affect that, so they let you be. Jungkook orders a glass of juice right after though, but you don’t question him, even if you’d expected that he’d go for another round or at least a bottle of beer. 

As the host that he is, Taehyung urges everyone to get on the dance floor, the alcohol now kicking in after the rest of your friends downed more shots. 

“We’re good here,” Jungkook says. “You tired my wife a little over there.”

“Nah, we all know you’re the only one who can do that,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, his lack of filter causing you and your husband to just laugh.

“I’m okay, Kook,” you say, reaching out your hand for him to take. “I’d be silly not to dance with you looking like this. Plus, didn’t you want to make a statement that you’re taken or something?” You laugh. 

“I do, actually,” he smirks, leading you to the dance floor where your friends have gathered. “But I’d also be silly not to dance with you looking like this,” he continues, running his hand down your bare back until it sits right on your ass. He squeezes it a little before holding you by the waist, swaying them in tandem with your hips as you dance to the music. 

You’ve got your hands around his neck and your eyes locked on his, his smile turning more sultry as the seconds tick by. You feel him grind against you and you welcome the friction, as you find yourself lost in the sounds and the weight of his stare. 

“Nothing like a song about fucking everyday to get us in the mood, huh,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers gripping your dress to control himself.

“Good thing we’re married and can do that, then,” you whisper back. “But that would also be incredibly tiring.”

Jungkook laughs. Much as he knows it’s something that his amazing stamina would allow him to do, he also knows that’s too much for you. But he’d never complain. Anything with you is enough; being with you is enough. Falling asleep with you is all that he wants, even during that rare time when he was upset. He’s learned that when it comes to you, no distance is farther than when he’s not next to you; he’d take any pain on either of your ends, as long as he has you by his side. 

He’s overcome with emotion at the thought, so he doesn’t control himself when the urge to kiss you takes over him and you let him, capturing his lips for something gentle and languid. He feels you smile against him and he does the same, knowing that amidst the lust and intense yearning, the softness will remain. It’s why he pulls away first and envelopes you in a hug, finding purchase in your neck as he calms his raising heart and hardening cock that were caused by your impassioned movements. 

He hears you giggle as you hug him tight and his heart softens now, savoring that sound even more because he was without it for weeks at one point. He’s also learned that days without your laugh and your smile are the hardest; he knows he’ll be lost in this world without them. 

You pull away now and kiss his cheek this time, and you feel him smile again at the action. With all his cheekiness, Jungkook is everything that is love at his core. He gives and takes as he should, and it may seem odd that such thoughts are what’s swirling in your mind as you’re both dancing together at a club with people making out and grinding against each other around you, but you’ve come to learn that regardless of happening outside or inside of you, he’s the only one you want to share your little world with. 

He takes your hand and leads you back to your table where your friends gather shortly after. He orders coffee while you settle for tea, knowing you’d be too tired to make one before you sleep. It’s more laughter and dancing in your seats for another hour or so before you and Jungkook decide to head home as guests start to leave as well. 

You didn’t expect to be out until 2AM but you kept thinking that one day, you’ll be too old for this; one day, you’ll have kids to care for that you won’t have much time for nights out with your friends. You savor what you’re able to as a young married couple before children get in the picture, and as you watch Jungkook in the driver seat with his tattooed arm on the steering wheel, humming to the music while saying that he had a great time, you assume that he thinks the same way.

“Yeah, tonight was fun,” you muse. “We let go of ourselves a little bit and that was nice.”

“It was. You had your hands on me for most of the night so that was good,” he teases. 

“I had to make a statement myself. Don’t think I didn’t see those two women who kept eyeing you and constantly passing by our table,” you huff. 

“I didn’t even notice,” he hums. “I was too busy looking at you. But was that really it? You were just letting them know that I’m your man and they have no chance?”

“Of course not,” you giggle, taking his free hand and kissing it. “This look is really doing something to me. Maybe I’ll start asking you to wear this at home or something.”

Jungkook laughs at your words, his head briefly rolling back before he turns to you with his scrunched nose. “I wouldn’t mind that, actually.”

There’s a moment of silence, with you caressing his hand that’s found its place on your bare thigh, before you comment that he didn’t drink much tonight, knowing that their trio of best friends enjoy their alcohol when they’re out to party.

“I could’ve driven us back home, you know?” You say. “We haven’t gone out like this in a while so it would’ve been okay if you drank.”

“Yeah but… we’re trying to get pregnant and the doctor said that alcohol consumption affects sperm health, too,” he responds, his eyes looking soft as he glances at you. “I don’t want you to be the only one cutting back on things because we’re doing this together. I mean, that cup of coffee back there was only my second one of the day. I’ve been trying to limit myself to just two a day as well since I know you’re drinking less, and I survived the week.”

“Honey…” you say, your heart melting at the thought of him making sure that you’re not doing this all on your own. 

This is just the trying phase, and if he’s committed to the pregnancy this early on, you can just imagine how present and supportive he’ll be when you do get pregnant. He’ll make sure you’re not the only one making sacrifices, and he’ll make sure to give you as much comfort and support as possible. 

“And also, I’m gonna have to change my lifestyle eventually for, you know, when we have our child,” he continues. “I can’t be going out, drinking, and then driving because who knows what could happen? Plus, I don’t wanna kiss our baby with alcohol breath when I get home. And I—”

“Kook, you can still do the things you used to do even when we have a child,” you interrupt. “I mean, you can still party and drink and—”

“I can’t be reckless, though, and that’s what I was for a long time,” he counters. “I was also pretty selfish and always wanted things my way. Being with you changed that and yeah, parenthood will change me, but I should at least be good enough to begin with.”

“And you are, honey; more than enough, actually. I mean, we’ve been to the doctor twice and you already took what she said to heart,” you assure him. “I just know you’re gonna be great, okay? And this is my unfiltered mind speaking but I’m kinda excited to get pregnant because of how sweet and loving and… hot you’re gonna be when you take care of me.”

It’s that laugh again, his playful and endearing laughter that triggers the butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle under the dim streetlights that you pass by, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like everything good is at your reach while it’s just the two of you in your own world. 

“I’m excited for you to get pregnant because of how loving and needy and strong and fucking sexy you’re gonna be,” he says, earning him a chuckle. “But all that aside, I just want you to know that you have me. I’m obviously here for the actual baby-making but also for the massages and cravings and morning sickness and swollen everything, okay? I promise.”

“You are such a dream, Jeon Jungkook,” you giggle as you gaze at him lovingly. “I’d live through a thousand lifetimes just so I can have this one where I married you.”

He’s left speechless now, as he softly smiles and leans over at the stoplight for a gentle kiss on your lips. You think it’s enough for him to say all the things he can’t, and you kiss him back, a little more deeply, to say the things you still don’t have words for.

The rest of the ride back home is quiet, save for Jungkook’s humming along to the songs on his playlist. You’re both giggling over something silly that happened earlier by the time you’re walking back to the apartment, and taking advantage of the late hours and the empty elevators, your husband softly kisses your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist all the way to your floor. You sigh in relief; his lips are as good as his hands when it comes to relieving your tiredness. 

There were some issues you encountered in your project at the firm that you had to manage, on top of helping Taehyung with his art gallery launch. Teaching the kids is not really stressful, but handling classes of 10 children each has its own challenges. You know your body and you’re perfectly fine, which is why you didn’t mind staying up late with your friends tonight. You’d missed out on a few nights out because you opted to rest, but tonight was too important to pass up on. But still, it left you just a tiny bit exhausted and you can’t wait for your warm bath and cuddles with Jungkook. 

You pause on the idea once your phone beeps and a notification pops up. Suddenly your heart is racing, and you’re left standing in the middle of your living room as Jungkook turns off the lights and says that he’ll massage you as you both take your bath. 

Seeing you unmoving when he expected you to be walking up the stairs, he asks if everything’s okay.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you say, turning to him with a small smile on your face. “I just got notified. My, uh, my tracker says I ovulate in a few days so, uh… My fertile window starts now.”

It takes a few seconds for Jungkook to process the information and once it clicks, he walks towards you and mirrors your smile. 

Dr. Han explained in detail how things go, and Jungkook remembers that in non-technical words, having sex during your fertile window is the best way to get pregnant, and since everything is an estimate and no means of tracking can be entirely accurate, what he he really took from that session is that having sex everyday increases your chance of conceiving. The thought turns his soft smile into a smirk, and with his eyes boring into yours, he repeats your words.

“Your window starts now,” he says, earning him a nod. “I’m fertile, too,” he adds. 

You chuckle at his statement. “I know, Kook. Of course you are,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

But his gaze doesn’t falter, as he cups your cheek and takes you in.

“Do you think the bath and massage can wait?” He asks, his voice suddenly low.

“They can,” you respond, feeling your throat drying up.

“You’re not too tired?”

“Not anymore,” you answer, melting into his touch, especially as his breath starts to quicken.

“Good,” he breathes out, his mouth so close to yours. 

Your noses touch before you feel his lips, soft yet wanting at the thought of being able to make love to you tonight, knowing there’s a chance that it could result in a baby that you’ve both been wanting. You grant him the entrance that he seeks, and he’s quick to explore as your tongue melds with his. He’s intentional, with both his hands cradling your face, wanting to say so much with this kiss. You return it just as eagerly, and your hands do what they’ve been wanting to since earlier in the night - they slide down his clothed chest, and then his torso, until they reach his crotch where you palm his hardening dick, letting him know that you want this just as much. 

He moves to place open-mouth kisses down your neck, and you moan when he sucks that sensitive part of yours at the same time that you squeeze his length, earning you a groan that sends shivers down your spine.

“Can I claim my seat now,” you tease, wanting nothing more than to ride him until you lose your breath, knowing just how much pleasure that position gives you both. 

“Fuck yes, babe,” he growls, kissing you again as he starts walking back, letting you guide him towards the couch that’s experienced its fair share of your lovemaking.    

He pulls away to settle on his seat, his eyes not moving away from you as he asks you to undress yourself, leaving you in nothing but your silk thong.

With his legs spread slightly wide, the leather material hugging his thick, meaty thighs, and his arms laid over the back of the couch, you can’t help but moan at the sight. Your seat looks pretty comfortable, even more so when he unzips his trousers to reveal his hardened length, big and veiny for you to slide against and down on. 

He’s coaxing you, as he touches himself to get you to come closer, knowing just how much this turns you on. You surprise him, though, when you get on your knees instead and take his cock from his hand, as if showing him that you can do it better. And of course you do; your touch electrifies him, it makes him weak and pliant, it makes him give in to whatever you want. He’s a generally impatient guy, but when it comes to you, he forces himself to have self-control, to wait, to let you take your time, only because he knows how satisfying it is once you give him what he craves. 

A few gentle and teasing strokes later, you take him in your mouth and you surprise him again, as you dive in and take him deep right away, unlike your usual gradual descent that’s every bit torturous and euphoric. He’s caught off guard but it’s what causes him to obscenely moan, prompting you to do the same, the vibrations sending him close to the edge. But you keep going, bopping your head up and down as you try to fit him in your mouth, and Jungkook has to gather all his strength to not falter this quickly. There’s so many other ways he wants to feel you.

Knowing he’ll come soon if you don’t stop, he cups your cheek to get your attention. The loving way you look at him is a contrast to how ruined he feels, and just as he thinks you’d chase his finger with your mouth and suck it as well, you kiss his hand instead, tracing your lips up to his tattooed arm and it’s moments like this that make him feel alive. He’s always loved chasing a high, living for the thrill and the unexpected that pushes him to try different things, and he’s somehow found that when making love to you. You could look at him shyly, reverently, or sultrily; you can lick your lips or say vulgar things or giggle sweetly - he won’t know what he’ll get, but he’ll lose his mind either way. 

Wanting to satiate his need, he finally pulls you to sit on his lap, capturing your mouth in his that leaves no room for either of you to breathe. Flushed against his clothed chest, you wrap your arms around his neck to try to take in as much of him as you can. You grind against his throbbing cock, and the friction isn’t enough, as you raise yourself to slide down on him, and your joint moans fill the room.

It starts slow but you eventually pick up the pace, and it prompts him to remove his trousers that are now definitely limiting his movements. Once he’s free, he focuses on what he can give. Jungkook pulls you down as he pushes inside of you, the quick and erratic thrusts sending you in a whole other dimension. You’re meeting his movements, your pants turning into squeals as you feel him so deep inside you, hitting the edges of your physical being. 

You lose it when he grips your ass to keep you in place and then captures your breast in his mouth for him to suck. You feel the pleasure all over your body; it’s overwhelming and all-consuming - you feel him everywhere, and it’s exactly how you want to be made love to. 

It’s the succeeding thrusts and the bite of the sensitive part of your neck that has you mewling and arching your back in intense pleasure and you feel like you’ve lost sense for a moment, as if you’re suspended with how deep and rough he’d gone. It’s almost numbing, as you continue to grind against him as you try to catch your breath but despite the overstimulation, you can’t get enough of it, of him. You came hard but you want more. 

You kiss him as you come down from your high and he takes you in, moaning as your mouths meet again. It’s different this time, though - the kiss is desperate, it feels like; there’s the usual passion but a different kind of yearning, of eagerness. Devotion, too, it seems - towards you, towards the future child you’ll have, towards the family you’ll build - as he caresses your back, his hands gliding on your skin before clutching onto you, as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your neck, repeating it like a chant that devotees do to a being they revere. “I love you, fuck baby. I love all of you.”

“I love you, Kook, so much,” you pant, hugging him loosely, as it’s the only thing you have energy to do at this moment. 

His arms are wrapped around your waist and he leans to kiss you there, his mouth seemingly unable to separate from any part of you. 

You meet his eyes and you just know that you mirror the way he’s fondly looking at you. Jungkook boops your nose before he gently lays you on the couch, his eyes unmoving from your form as he kneels before you to remove his shirt, his perfectly-crafted torso making you salivate even more. 

Spreading your legs, he dives in your cunt, licking your lips before he sucks your clit. You still haven’t recovered from earlier but you don’t mind. You’re still somewhat in a daze, and everything Jungkook does is both mind blowing and calming, intense yet numbing. Your leg starts to shake so he stops but you don’t complain. Just like him it seems, you want this drawn out. 

“I want you inside me, baby,” you moan. “I want… I want to feel you all over me again. Please,” you beg. “I need you.”

The way you plead does things to him, so he lays by your side, slides inside you from behind, and takes you into his hold. With your body shifted and your legs raised, he cups your breast and sucks on your neck, as if cradling you while making you feel all of him - his mouth, his dick, his fingers… He’s thrusting against you so hard that you’re screaming in pleasure, asking him not to stop, and moaning out his name. You lose control of your limbs and you feel like your body now has a mind of its own but his kiss grounds you, and you hold onto him tightly for anchor as he does the same with you. 

You come again - another hard crash - and he follows soon after, abrupt and drawn out that he feels like he’s suspended as well. He stays inside you, wanting to make sure that nothing of him is wasted. 

You’re both panting from tiredness, your damp foreheads against each other, and it’s nothing but your warm breaths and slick bodies that you feel. You can’t really feel anything else, and that warm bath sounds good right about now.

Jungkook seems to read your mind, as he pulls away first and grabs your clothes. He reaches out his hand that you take, and he holds you close to him as you both walk up the stairs and into your bathroom. 

You both don’t say much; the smiles and the soft kisses on the cheek seem to say enough. Maybe you’re just both really spent, but Jungkook exerting all that effort on you does not stop him from drawing your bath, sitting opposite you, and then massaging your feet and calves. He asks you to sit in between his legs right after so he can massage your shoulders, too, and the sigh you let out tells him you’re satisfied with his as well. 

“That good, baby?” He still asks, and you lazily smile at him and nod.

“You might fall asleep here,” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him so he can nuzzle your neck. 

“I wouldn’t mind that, as long as you sleep here with me,” you hum.

“Our tub is big but it isn’t that big,” he laughs again. “Come on, I’ll wash us up.”

You follow him and head to the shower where he promptly rinses the suds off your hair and your body. He’s gentle and thorough; charming, too, as his boyish smiles appear again when he sees you look satisfied. He helps you dress up before you both head to your room, your soft linens feeling like clouds after all that you did. 

Jungkook goes under the covers and lays his head on your chest like he often does. Tired as you are, you don’t want to sleep yet, needing to have this moment with him first. 

He’s rarely quiet, so when he is, you know something’s on his mind. You comb your fingers through his hair to calm him down; massaging him like this is also your way of letting him know that can say whatever he wants, and express whatever he wants.

“Do you think we did it?” He finally asks, sounding soft and unsure. “Do you think that was it?”

With his hand caressing your belly, you feel his anxiousness and his desire.

“I don’t know, honey,” you reply. “These things are never accurate. I’m just glad my cycle’s finally regular so at least I can better estimate when I’m due to ovulate and we can work from there. Maybe we did it. Maybe we didn’t. We won't know until I show symptoms and I take a test. And that’s weeks from now.”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable despite what seems to be a million things running through his mind. You’ve wanted this for so long but you’ve learned to be patient, to be trusting, to be accepting of whatever happens. You’d like to think that for all that you went through and for all the good that you’ve done in this life, the universe will grant you this wish. But you don’t want to think too much of how much you want it. You’re scared to be disappointed; more importantly, you’re scared to disappoint him.

“I want this so much,” he says, his voice low and desperate. “I… I knew I did but I didn’t know just how much until the other month when… when we had a false alarm.”

You recall that day. It was some time after you’d come back from Busan, the conversations from that trip perhaps clouding your mind, the excitement overtaking you that you’d thought you could be pregnant despite the minimal signs. 

But you took the test anyway. It was negative, and Jungkook hugged you and said it was okay. You’d only gone to the doctor once that time, and you were both still adjusting and making changes in your respective lifestyles. He didn’t seem upset; he comforted you, cradled you that night, and made love to you softly as he whispered how perfect you are, and how much he loves you. 

“I… I didn’t want to show it but it made me sad that it didn’t happen then,” he continues. “And I guess it hit me exactly how much I wanted it. To be able to create someone who’s half of the person I love the most and half of me… that’s amazing, right? I just suddenly couldn’t wait to give all my love to that child; I couldn’t wait for us to be gifted that.”

You’re unable to form words as you listen to him. It takes you back to the time when he didn’t want to have children yet, content with just the both of you and your little adventures and time alone. Jungkook wanted you all to himself, and he wanted him to be the only one you focused on. He’d hated himself for being selfish, but you suppose you both needed to have that time for each other - to learn, to love, to fight, to forgive, to trust, and then to love even harder, even braver, even kinder. 

“It’ll happen, Kook,” is all you can say. “One day, it will. I’d like to believe that it’s meant for us, just as you and I were meant for each other after all these years.”

“I don’t want to think that I wasted so much of our time just because I wanted it to be just us,” he admits. “But sometimes, that fills my mind. What if we had tried earlier?”

“Do you think that helps? Thinking of the what if’s?”

“I know it doesn’t,” he responds. “But I guess the fear pushes me somehow, you know? I could be living a different life where I don’t have all this, and so I want to make sure that I take care of all that I have now - you, this marriage, this home. It’s ironic that I’ve always wanted to live my life without fear, only to realize now that fears could be good, too, that having something you’re afraid of means you’re actually living, because then, something’s good enough to lose.”

“And that something is so good that you can’t not have it,” you add. 

He looks up at you with an assuring smile, knowing that you feel what he’s feeling, that you understand what’s bothering him. 

“I worry, too,” you continue. “I knew when I’d fallen in love with you that I wanted a family, to have a child that bears both of us, you know? Someone who can receive the overflowing love I have for you. And not having that scares me.”

With your words, Jungkook shifts himself to face you, cradling you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

“You see what you did right there?” You ask him.

“What?”

“I tell you I’m scared, and the first thing you do is hold me,” you say, feeling the emotions overtake you. “We’re each other’s fears. I’m afraid to lose you. I worry when you’re in pain or stressed or confused or unwell. And I know it’s the same with you. But we’re each other’s shields, too. We protect each other, we gain strength from each other. That’s how we’ll get through this. That’s how we’ll get through anything. I’ll hold you when you’re scared and you’ll take me in your arms just the same. The fears are bearable that way.”

“They are,” he whispers, kissing you deeply. “We’re all we need, baby. You’re all I need.”

With your entangled limbs under the covers, you and Jungkook breathe each other in. 

“I don’t know if we were successful tonight,” you hum, slowly succumbing to sleep. “We can always try again tomorrow.”

“And the day after. And the day after that. And then after that,” he responds, his cheeky smile making a sleepy appearance. “We can try everyday. We’ll make it happen; we’ll hold each other again if it doesn’t.”

“We will,” you answer. “We always will.”

Jungkook kisses your nose then your forehead, but it’s his pecks on your cheek that fully wake you up from an incredible slumber. It felt long and it was exactly what you needed after a night of partying and fucking your gorgeous husband, who happens to be smiling sweetly at you right now with his doe-eyes and semi-mussed hair.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he giggles. “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up.”

“What time is it?” You grumble, stretching your limbs and feeling the tension slightly dissipate. 

“Almost 1.”

“Seriously?” You gasp. “I’ve never woken up this late.”

“I know. I was kinda getting worried,” he chuckles. “But then again, we did sleep around 4:30 AM so it’s fine.”

“What did you do to me, honey,” you laugh now.

“Well, you know, the usual,” he teases. “And I’m not done with you yet. I promised you days of this.”

He sneaks his hand in between your thighs and presses lightly against your cunt, earning him a low moan. 

“Hmm, you did,” you hum. “But I’d really love a hug right now.”

With your outstretched arms, Jungkook melts into your hold, burying his face into your neck like he loves to do. You smell of peony and vanilla; you feel soft and comfortable and every beautiful thing in the world. He’d live right here if he could. 

But it’s the middle of the day and you’ve already missed your morning medication.

“I love this but babe, you need to eat so you can take your medicine,” he says, pulling away now. “I bought us some lunch so can you please wash up already?”

“Fine, Mr.,” you playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll be down in a bit. I’ll see you there.”

You walk into the kitchen with Jungkook humming to a song and shaking his hips while he transfers the stew from the pot into a big bowl. He places that on the dining table before taking the heated rice from the microwave. Dressed in sweatpants and a tank top under a loose zip-up hoodie that lets his shoulder tattoos peek out - a weakness of yours, you’ve learned - he looks like the perfect husband who’s sexy in every way. 

You’ve noticed these past weeks how he’s been more keen on getting chores done. You’ve always divided the tasks but recently, he’s taking more initiative - planning meals, listing grocery items, and scheduling laundry day. Those are things you think about on a daily basis because managing a household is tough work; you can’t help but think that he’s started taking some of the load from you, perhaps in preparation for when you get pregnant, and especially when a little one joins your family. 

The thought makes you smile. It’s why when he tells you that the food’s ready and pulls out your chair, you sit on his lap instead, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face in there as well. 

“Thank you, Kook,” you huff. “It smells good.”

“It does. Too bad I didn’t cook it,” he chuckles, returning your hug.

“I know. You don’t have the patience for that.”

He tickles you in response but you just hug him more tightly.

“Hey, I know I turn you on when I’m being a dreamy househusband, but the food will get cold,” he says, turning to face you now, a rare sight indeed since he’s often the hard-headed and pouty one. “Let us eat this first, and then I can eat you out after. Deal?”

You bite his cheek in feigned annoyance before you move to your chair, taking in the dish in front of you. 

“What time did you buy this?” You ask, realizing only after the first spoonful just how hungry you are, reminding you of a certain physical activity you both did just hours ago.

“Hmm, around 10,” he answers. “I was up at 8 and was gonna drink milk only to find out that we don’t have any. So I went to the supermarket and got eggs and a few other things, too. Then I passed by the restaurant on the way home.”

“Dreamy househusband indeed,” you wink at him. “But how were you up that early after last night?”

“Taehyung, that annoying child,” Jungkook groans. “He kept calling and texting so I just picked up. He woke up early and couldn’t find his engagement ring for Ailee, and he doesn’t know if he lost it or if he proposed to her but he doesn’t remember anything because he was so drunk. And she was called for an emergency at work so he couldn't find out. He also doesn’t wanna ask her himself so I said I’d ask her if my best friend did anything stupid and well, yeah, he did propose; she just doesn’t know that he doesn’t remember.”

You’re cracking up by the end of your husband’s narration and you feel for the man. “Oh, poor Taehyung. What a terrible way to go about asking someone to marry them.”

“Well, I never actually asked you, did I?” Jungkook says. 

“Well, you kinda didn’t want to, did you?” you shoot back, earning you an adorable frown. 

Appeasing him, you take his hand and kiss it. “It doesn’t matter. We said I do, you kissed me for a millisecond, and then here we are!”

“Baby!” He groans again. “Why are you bringing up the wedding kiss, AKA the most embarrassing kiss of my life?”

“Because so-called loverboy Jungkook kissed his bride for a millisecond, that’s why,” you laugh. 

“I did make up for it, though,” he reminds you. “And I still do. I mean, you can’t seem to get enough of my kisses now.”

“You’re getting cockier and cockier by the year, honey,” you tease. “Even if, yes, you are absolutely correct. I can’t imagine living without your kisses.”

“Good. Because these lips can’t imagine not kissing you,” he smirks, and all you can do is cover your face in laughter and slight embarrassment, but he scrunches his nose as he watches you lose it, and your heart softens again. 

He could be cheeky as much as he wants; deep down, he’ll always be that gentleman who loves making you laugh and smile. 

You both finish your meal then you take your medicine. You insist on doing the dishes this time and it doesn’t take long. You’re full from eating so you return to your seat next to Jungkook where you both video call with Taehyung and the rest of your friends as he presents his predicament.

“Just be honest with her,” you advise. “Honesty and communication are incredibly important in a marriage, Tae. Take it from me. Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t remember how it happened, either.”

“And then you can just propose to her again,” Jungkook suggests. “Seriously, dude. Being honest is probably one of the hardest things to do, but it’s freeing more than anything when you share things with your partner. It just sucks that you have to share your stupidity but yeah, she’s crazy about you so I’m sure she’ll still want to marry you.”

Taehyung rants again but decides that listening to the only married couple in your friend group is his best course of action, so he says he will and will keep everyone posted. 

Wanting to have your only caffeine intake for the day, you walk towards the counter to boil water for your tea and then walk back to Jungkook. You lean on the edge of the table as you watch him remain seated and mirror your smile. You think about what he said earlier about being honest. You’re also reminded of your conversation last night and how open and vulnerable he was. You recall the moments where he’s trusted you and followed your lead. You think back at the instances where you were the same. You’ve both come such a long way, and the thought sparks a certain kind of desire in you, something that he sees.

He reaches out his hand and you take it. He guides you to his lap where you comfortably sit, aligning your clothed cunt to his cock, anticipating the friction and what would come out of it. You kiss each other deeply, both your hands mapping each other out. He pulls down your nightgown; you unzip his jacket and sneak your hands underneath his top. He’s smooth and taut and absolutely perfect; his hardened nipples tell you that he’s just as turned on as you are. 

Rocking against his hips, he decides that he absolutely needs to taste you, so Jungkook nudges you and guides you to the table where you lay, your legs spread out to show him the view that he craves. 

His tongue is warm against your folds. He presses it against your clit before twirling it around, knowing exactly how you want this to go. You like it slow at first, with kisses on the sides and underneath your thighs where you’re sensitive, before wanting it fast, rough, and desperate, as Jungkook sucks and nibbles and locks your thighs in his arms, pulling you closer to the edge so he can bury his face in between them where he also would like to live if he could. 

It’s like he’s been starved as he leaves no inch untouched. Your legs are shaking now, your body begging for release and he feels it; he feels the tension in your limbs and hears your hypnotizing moans. These make him want you to wrap around him so he can feel your warmth, too, so he can be sucked into your velvet walls and drown in your essence. 

He pulls away then undresses himself and then you, leaving you both heaving and bare, desperate for more of your scent and your kisses and your touch and your sounds. He strokes himself a little before pulling you closer again, this time for his cock to slide inside your wet entrance, and the moan that escapes him is obscene yet full of want and yearning. 

With your legs suspended in air, he thrusts into you - slow at first, teasing even, as he draws it out before going rough and deep, sending shockwaves all over his body with how well you’re taking him, and how hard you’re letting him go as you ask for more and more and more.

His hands explore your bare torso - hands fondling your swell breasts, fingers pinching your pert nipples, and palms gripping your waist to keep you steady. You kiss each other for most of it all, adding to your pleasure but also tempering it, as your mouths capture your moans and the curses you both let out. 

“So good, baby,” you groan, your deep, sultry voice still surprising him after all this time. “You fit me so, so well.”

“I’m made for you, baby,” he growls, assaulting your neck with nibbles that have you ascending even more. “Fuck, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your cries of yes urge him further and he quickens his pace, knowing from your sounds that you’re close and his erratic thrusting says that so is he. With your chest heaving and your arms weakening from supporting your weight, you crash hard, and your elbows buckle from the intensity but he catches you, his arms cradling you before he lays your back on the table while he tries to reach his peak. 

You recover, propping one arm on the surface and the other, pulling him close to you. 

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper, licking the shell of his ear right after. “Want you to fill me up so good. Please.”

You meet his thrusts and then clench around him. It’s what does it for him, as he releases a long groan that almost makes you come another time. Your pants match his and he hugs you tightly before kissing your neck. 

He’s sweating and unsurprisingly so, but it makes him look even hotter, with the softness in his eyes turning into determination in seconds. He bites your lip before licking your mouth. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks. “Gotta cover all bases and take you from every angle, baby.” Pulling away, he releases you from his hold. “Will you turn around for me? We’ve got the rest of the day for this.”

You’re left speechless at his words but you’re eager and pliant as you’re under his spell. You turn around as he asks and the feel of his tongue on your cunt overstimulates yet electrifies you. There’s no other way you want to spend your Saturday. You know your Sunday and every day after that will be the same. But Jungkook is an amazing lover, and you know that after all the roughness, he’ll hold you gently, pepper you with soft kisses, and tell you how much he loves you so you won’t ever forget. 

It’s weeks later when you pick up the phone and make a call.

“Hey, babe,” Jungkook’s sweet voice greets you on the other end of the line. “I’m heading to McDonald’s. The meal served on the plane was so little and I’m still hungry. Do you want anything?”

“Just, uh, just fries,” you mumble, as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

“That’s all?” He asks, knowing that you always want that with a sundae. “Do you want me to get something from somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve had dinner, Kook,” you say. “But uh, do you think you can pass by the pharmacy? I… I need a pregnancy test.”

You can hear a pin drop with the silence from both your ends. But it could also probably just be your mind going blank as you vocalize the words, a request that holds with it so much as you try to think of what will happen after the result comes out. 

“Baby…” Jungkook manages to mumble.

“I didn’t realize that my period’s been late a few days,” you explain. “But the cramps have been bearable and I didn’t think much of the nausea but, maybe… I mean, there’s a chance that—”

You only ramble when you’re nervous and Jungkook can feel your anxiety even through the phone. 

“Baby,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay. Are you feeling any pain right now?”

“No… I just… Come home soon, please. I… I need to be with you.”

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

He drops the call and makes his order through the window, then he asks Mr. Yu to head to the nearby pharmacy where Jungkook runs to the counter for the pregnancy test and then asks his chauffeur to quickly but safely drive to you. He wants nothing more than to be with you right now and calm your nerves, and while his mind is going haywire at the thought of a possible pregnancy, he knows he needs to be the strong one; he needs to be the one to keep you both grounded, even if another false alarm will crush both your hearts.

The time is ticking by too slowly and he opts to send you messages instead, updating you of where he is and how much longer it’ll take for him to get to you, hoping that this could at least help while you wait for him to arrive. 

Back in your loft, you continue pacing around the living room. You’d been too busy with work to take note of your tracker, which is why you hadn’t realized until today that your period is late. Jungkook’s been in Japan since Thursday and took a late afternoon flight this Monday so he can get home to you right away. You know he’s worried; even with his calm voice, you know deep down he’s just as anxious as you are. You appreciate that he’s holding the fort for both of you; he probably could tell from your rambling that you’re a little out of sorts, and for good reason. 

Since deciding on actively trying to get pregnant, there’s been an air of tension about the topic even if it’s something you both openly talk about. Perhaps it’s wanting it so much that the chance of not achieving it is a heartbreaking thought. 

You remind yourself, however, that you had a go at it not long ago; you’ve been following Dr. Han’s recommendations of cutting back on things as well so the hopeful part of you thinks that there’s a big chance it could happen. Every part of you wishes it’s happy tears tonight and not sad ones. 

Your door unlocks and you stand from the couch, meeting Jungkook, who places the food on the nearby flat surface, and hugging him tightly.

“I missed you,” he hums against your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, okay? I’m with you. We’re doing this together, and whatever happens, we’ll hold each other. We promised, remember?”

“I remember,” you mumble. Facing him, you say you’ll take the test in the guest bathroom. “We’ll wait and check together, honey. I love you, whatever happens.”

“I love you, whatever happens.”  

You exit the bathroom and find him seated on the bed, his coat removed and his tie loosened. His hair is a little mussed, perhaps from constantly combing through it as a way to ease his nerves. You sit on his lap - your safe place - and hug him again, letting your joint breaths remind you that you share the anticipation and the fear and the excitement with him.

Your alarm beeps to signal that the waiting time is over, and he pulls you close for a deep kiss before you stand up, and you drown in his taste and his scent, knowing that you’ll need all forms of his comfort tonight. 

Walking together, you stand by the counter and stare at the stick that’s been turned over. He’s hugging you from behind and you pull his arms tighter around you. With a deep breath, you turn the test over again to face you, and the way that he buries his face in your neck while he whispers I love you in your ears is what makes your tears fall.

Two lines signifying your hopes and dreams of a family that you’ll love with all your imperfect heart. 

“We’re having a little one, babe,” he huffs. “We… We’re gonna be parents.”

You finally face him, your tears uncontrollable now, and all you can do is nod. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “We… we’re—”

His chest buries your cries, as you’re unable to form words at the gift that you’ve been given. His strong arms cradle you against him and it’s all you really need - just his love, for you, for the child you’ll have, for the family you’ll build. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead before kneeling down to face your belly that’s started to nurture your baby. 

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be so, so loved. Mommy and Daddy will make sure of that.”

There’s so much emotion, as you watch Jungkook sweetly smile at what’s now housing the most important being in this world right now. His glassy doe-eyes, small sniffles, and the way he caresses you give you a glimpse of how he’ll probably be starting now. He already looks at you with so much love and you can just imagine how much more affectionate he’d be with that little human growing inside you. He’ll be giving and showing love to two now; there’s something incredibly special about that. 

The low grumble of your stomach breaks the moment, however, but your joint laughter is welcomed, as he nuzzles your torso and kisses it in places before standing up to face you again.

“I know you said you just wanted fries but I got you that chicken and mozzarella sandwich you like and strawberry McFlurry, too,” he says, wiping away your tears. “I thought that if it was negative, you’d want to eat your sadness away, and if it was positive, you’d be so happy you’d want to eat more. It could also be that you’re just really hungry.”

“That’s a fair assessment,” you giggle. “But I had early dinner and I think the anxiety got to me. Thank you, honey. You already know what I need before I even say it.”

“I'm a certified dream husband and a dad-in-training,” he winks, making your heart soar. “But also… is it okay to feed our child… grease?”

You pinch his cheeks adoringly. “Just this once, I guess. And then it’s all healthy stuff for me starting tomorrow.”

“You mean for us,” he corrects. 

“For us,” you nod.

You both eat your unhealthy comfort food, with baby talk dominating throughout dinner, such as what you’ll name them, how you’ll tell your family and friends, and how the home setup is gonna be like. You both decide on waiting until this weekend for the announcement, wanting to go to the doctor first and just savoring this moment between the both of you. You’ll eventually transform Jungkook’s office space in your room to a nursery and contact Hoseok to look for houses that you’ll move into after you give birth. 

Jungkook asks you to have a shower with him, admitting that he feels quite clingy given the news. You don’t mind at all, especially when he hugs you from behind under the warm water and caresses your stomach again while he languidly kisses your lips.

He makes love to you once you’re in bed. 

It’s different from what you’d both done during your “baby-making week,” as he liked to call it, when he took you on different surfaces and on different angles all over your apartment. You’d even done it in the car in your building’s basement parking because he wanted to “cover all bases,” although you know he just wanted an excuse because that reckless part of him just liked the thrill of fucking you in a not-so-private space. You loved every bit of that week though, and even the days that followed, where despite his late nights, early mornings, and business trips, he made sure to express his love in different ways. 

But tonight, he takes it slow and simple, as he gently yet purposefully pushes into you while he looks into your eyes with so much adoration. He intertwines his fingers with yours, filling all your spaces, and cups your cheek while he whispers words of love and praise. 

It’s a gradual buildup and perhaps it’s why your orgasm is drawn out as well. It’s a different kind of pleasure, as you feel suspended in air while being pulled down before the acceleration comes when he sucks your breast, as if you’re orgasming again while coming down from it. But it’s Jungkook - some days he’s rough and teasing; sometimes he’s gentle and serious. 

Everyday it’s love though. Whatever form or pace it is, it’s the only love you want to know.

It’s tough keeping news as big as your pregnancy from your family and friends, but you and Jungkook wanted to consult with the doctor first so you can answer their questions because you know that there’ll be many of them, including when you’re due. It’s why you canceled dinner with the girls that Wednesday and why you passed up on lunch with your siblings that Friday. 

You made it to Saturday, where you and Jungkook offered to host your monthly hangouts with all your friends in your apartment and then casually said over dinner that you’re pregnant. It was silent for a good minute before they burst into screams. 

Nari and Jimin cried, which you didn’t expect. Taehyung burst into an opera-like song to express his emotions, Yeji was taking a video of the chaos, and Minhyuk was the only sane one who hugged you tightly and said that your child will be so lucky to have a set of crazy and loving uncles and aunties who will spoil them to no end.

It’s Sunday now, and it just so happens that your and Jungkook’s grandparents are in town to attend a gala this week. 

Enjoying your lunch in the indoor dining hall of your parents’ estate, the scene is a common one - lavish dishes on the table that Seokjin chows down while little  Seungjun sits on his lap, Soojin announcing that she scored 3 goals in their recent soccer game and that her twin brother Sunghoon placed first in their school’s poetry-writing contest, big boy Jihoon feeding his little sister, and the rest of the adults talking to each other from across the table, leaving the room abuzz with laughter and squeals. 

Your grandfather asks everyone to quiet down, wanting to hear how everyone’s doing, even if he’s really just looking at you and Jungkook.

“And how about both of you, my dear?” He asks. “How have things been since your visit to Busan?”

“We’ve been well,” you reply, immediately taking Jungkook’s hand. You don’t really have a plan of how you’ll tell everyone; just like how things have always been, you just want it simple. The news is a big deal, but you don’t want anything grand when it comes to announcing it. “We’re both busy with work but we’ve been making time for each other.”

“And your health?” Your grandmother asks. 

“Back to normal. The new medication has been good so I think I’m all clear,” you smile. 

“That’s wonderful,” your grandfather replies, pausing a bit, perhaps to let you continue should there be more you want to say.

You can tell he’s trying to control himself from asking something else; it’s not lost on you that your grandparents have been very vocal about their desire for you and Jungkook to have a child, considering that, in their words, they “don’t have much time left on earth.” You feel for them. This union was a dream and you hadn’t realized until the car ride this morning just how much a child would mean to them. 

Your grandfather turns to Seoyeon, ready to ask her this time but you get ahead of him.

“Actually, I’m not really back to normal,” you say, earning you worried looks from everyone. “I actually… Uh, you see. I… We—”

“We’re pregnant,” Jungkook finishes for you. You nudge him at the sudden announcement but he just chuckles. “You were rambling.”

“I…” You turn to look at your family who are all wide-eyed, perhaps still processing the words - except for the kids, of course, who are all still munching on their food, with Soojin asking why everyone is so quiet.

“Jungkook and I are expecting,” you say now, more calmly and more certain. “I’m due in the summer and we’re really excited. And nervous. But we can’t wait to meet our little one soon. And—”

The emotions overflow at this moment - both your parents and siblings are all teary-eyed, expressing their joy and excitement in so many ways. Your mother walks to you for a tight hug, and your father does the same to Jungkook until you’re hugging each member of both of your families - with your grandparents taking most of the time - including the kids who just follow what the adults are doing. 

Soojin squeals when you explain in kid language what’s happening, prompting her to hug your belly then remarking that you look the same.

“Your Auntie’s belly will grow big soon,” Jungkook says, rubbing your stomach. “Can I ask all of you to take care of her with me?” He asks the little ones now, kneeling in front of them and mirroring their adorable smiles. 

“Yes, Uncle Kookie!” They say in unison, prompting you to kneel alongside him and hugging each of the kids.

Their kisses are long and sweet. They’re much older now so they feel more responsibility when it comes to you and the baby, so they ask a lot of questions like how big they are right now, what they’re eating, and how they’ll come out of your belly. You answer each question, trying to explain as simply as you can with all the patience in the world.

Jungkook watches you, knowing that this - and all the times that you’re with them - is just a peek of how you’ll be as a mother. And he can’t wait to witness and experience all that with you. There’s so much to be excited about; he knows every moment now is precious and one you both will have to savor.

You return to your seat once everyone’s recovered, even if your mother is still crying and your grandparents still have glassy eyes.

“I know it took a while,” you say. “But Kook and I just wanted to make sure that we were having this child for our own reasons. And well, considering how we started, we wanted to enjoy ourselves first and not feel like we’re missing out on things.”

“And that’s alright, sweetheart,” Jungkook’s grandmother assures you. “We’re just glad that this happened on your own terms this time.”

“It did,” Jungkook answers. “We had a lot of growing up to do but uh, that won’t stop. I… I’ll still need help.”

“You have us,” Junghyun says now. “Min-jun, Seokjin, and I will do the big brother thing and guide you, Kook. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Seoyeon winks at you to say that you have her, Yeri, and Mina as well. You and Jungkook have such amazing people to guide you and that you look up to; you can’t wait to get to know yourself and each other in this aspect as well. 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with your parents and grandparents talking to you and Jungkook, expressing their joy and hope that everything will all be okay. Your siblings pull you both aside to talk about the next steps from parenting sessions, prenatal yoga, house hunting, and everything in between. They make it all exciting, knowing that the worries will come and go, and you appreciate them all for that. 

Later that night, you lay in bed while Jungkook stays by your side, propped up with one arm while his hand caresses your stomach once more, something he’s been doing every night before you both sleep. 

“Today was good,” you say, as you place your hand over his, caressing the fingers that wander around your bare skin. “It somehow reminded me of that lunch when they proposed this marriage and now look where we are. We’ve come such a long way, Kook. I’m glad we can finally share the joy with them.” 

Jungkook responds with a hum, his eyes glued to your stomach, traces of deep thoughts in them.

“What are you thinking about, honey?” You ask, cupping his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly to savor your touch.

“Just… everything, I guess,” he huffs. “Everyone said so many things. My brother even sent me a long text that I still have to respond to. But I was thinking about the kids. They’re still a rowdy bunch but they’re so good to each other, babe. They’re so good to people. And they have such affection towards their parents. I… I want that for our child. I want them to be good to others, to be loving to others. I want them to love us.”

“Honey, they will,” you smile, “because we’re raising them. You have such a big heart, Kook. I just know that’ll be enough to make them kind and loving people.”

“I just… I just want to be a good dad,” he admits, revealing another layer of his vulnerability. “I want them to have fun with me, to trust that I’ll protect them always. I want to be someone they’ll be proud of; I want them to be happy that I’m their father. I want to do right by them, by you.”

“I bet as they grow up, they’ll want to do the same with you. That’s how loved they’ll feel,” you say, turning to your side so you can face him and he can focus only on you. “You’re already doing amazing, honey. They’ll feel how much you love them by how much you love me. And you love me so beautifully. That makes all the difference.” 

“Thank you for making me so happy,” he responds after a beat of silence, his heartfelt words piercing through you. “I didn’t think I could feel more for you than I already do.”

“Me, too,” you smile, kissing him deeply. “We’re gonna be okay. Things will start to change but I want you to know that I’ll love you through it all, okay?”

“And I’ll love you through it all just the same,” he kisses your forehead now. 

With you cradled in Jungkook’s arms as you listen to his steadying heartbeat and soft snores, you know that however hard this journey is gonna be, he’ll hold you no matter what, and you’ll be strong for each other through it all.

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[leighsartworks216]

Just A Trim

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I had this idea like this morning or last night, I don't remember. And then I was not physically/mentally able to write until the sudden Need To Write hit me and I cranked this out

When writing this, I noticed I kept making references to Tav being shorter, but bc I want this to be enjoyed by everyone, I took them out. Pls let me know if I missed any instances of it tho

Ending loosely inspired by this scene from Big Fish

Warnings: scissors, brief references to low self-worth, anxiety, pure fluff

Word Count: 1,287

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion didn’t trust his hair with just anybody. Pulling on it during sex? Okay. Playing with it while cuddling? It takes him a bit to actually trust someone enough to enjoy it. Washing it? Absolutely off the table. Cutting it? Out of question, and he’d probably insult you for asking.

So when he came to you, frowning and grumbling, and struggled through grit teeth to ask if you would please help him cut his hair? That meant something.

You tried not to let your glee show as you dropped whatever you were working on and followed him into your shared bathroom. He plopped onto the edge of the tub like a pouting child who’d just got a good telling-to after misbehaving. He held the scissors up for you to take.

“If you cut my ears, darling, I’m going to make you regret the day you were ever born.” He glares over his shoulder as you step into the tub behind him, rolling up your sleeves and taking the scissors. “And don’t you dare do anything funny. All I need is a simple trim. I assume you’re capable enough to manage that?”

You smiled as he growled at you like an annoying customer. You lean down and gently kiss his cheek. “I promise I’ll only take a little bit off.”

There’s an unspoken conflict on his face. He’s not sure he actually wants you to go through with this… But he’s sort of out of options. Any salons nearby closed before the sun went down, and he definitely did not trust any of your past traveling companions to do the job. No. He’d just have to trust you. He sighs and faces forward. “Just… be careful.”

“I will, my love.”

It had been difficult to notice during the course of your adventure together, but his hair did grow. Not as fast as yours, but curls that delicately curled around the edges of his ears now almost completely covered them, like strangling vines. You’d heard him cuss too many times when a strand got caught in his earrings and tugged when he went to brush the hair from his face. The curl that lay persistently over his forehead now brushed his upper eyelid. Very frequently, he would huff and fight to push it back, with nothing to show for it.

With gentle, smooth motions, you combed your fingers through his hair. Your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, running from his hairline to the nape of his neck, and carefully untangling any knots all the while. You heard his quiet sigh, and saw his shoulders begin to relax. You pressed a kiss to his head.

Assessing his full head of hair, you figured out where to begin. You separated out a section, trying to determine how long it used to be, so you knew how short to cut it now. He tensed again.

“I’m going to start cutting it now, okay?” He hummed, short and anxious. You pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Relax, dear. I’ve got you.”

“It’s difficult to when you have the means to turn me into a glorified clown.”

“But I won’t.”

He sighed. “I know.”

You wait for him to relax again, and he nods slightly. You take the scissors to the first section of hair. With a shink, a small clump of hair falls into the tub. The sound certainly doesn’t fill him with confidence, but he trusts you won’t mess it up too bad…

You begin talking about your friends, about the letters they’ve sent lately keeping you updated with their lives. Apparently, Gale sent some interesting information regarding potential cures for his vampirism - though most of it was only on temporary remedies. “In good time,” you’d assured him when he groaned. Stepping into the sun again would be nice, but an end to his sanguine hunger would be better.

It takes a while to cut all his hair, especially with how meticulous you’re being. You give special attention to the hair around his ears, making sure not to nick him. You step out of the tub and in front of him while you cut the stubborn curl there, where you catch it before it can fall into his lap, and deposit it in the basin. He can’t help watching you then. You have such determination and focus on the task at hand. Only once the curl is trimmed do you actually see him staring, and you smile and peck his lips. He rather enjoyed that.

As you go through each section, you consistently run your fingers through his hair. It’s the most relaxing bit, and he’s certainly glad he asked you for this. He would die before Gale ever got his grubby mitts anywhere near his hair.

By the time you finish, his eyes are closed. He listens to your chatter, to the random tunes you hum, to the way you hold your breath as you make a cut. It’s rather peaceful, despite the underlying nervousness to it all. He can’t see himself. All he can hope is you make him look nice.

You brush your fingers through his hair to knock loose any stray strands. It falls like snow by your feet. Satisfied with your work, you begin running water for a bath, kicking the hair down the drain before you plug it to fill the tub.

“Done, love?”

“Mhm!” You lean around to kiss his cheek again. “You can take a bath, wash all the hair off, and I can get you some fresh clothes.”

He grins. He stands and turns to face you, taking your hands in his and running his thumbs along your knuckles. He’s worried, anxious, but he tries not to let it show. “How do I look?” he asks with a careful bravado, tilting his head to the side, chin upturned, like a haughty nobleman.

You let go of his hand to cup his cheek. He automatically leans into it, mask slipping ever so slightly to reveal his worry. “You look beautiful. I think I did a rather fine job.”

“‘Rather fine?’ Oh, darling,” he lilts, “for your sake, I’d better look the spitting image of perfection.”

“You always do.” It’s earnest. A solid fact to oppose the teasing of his words.

He cannot prevent the true smile that tugs the corners of his mouth as he leans in to claim yours, tasting and nipping and teasing with soft sighs of content. You are much too good to him, but he doesn’t say that out loud, lest you lecture him and treat him to endless spoils until he believes it himself.

He reluctantly pulls away, but his lips continue to brush yours. “Bathe with me.”

You open your eyes to study his face. “Are you sure?”

“Undoubtedly.”

A mischievous spark glints in the corner of your eye as you grin wickedly. “Do I get to wash your hair?”

He chuckles. “Don’t push it.”

You hum. “Would you wash mine?”

“Whatever you want, my love.”

“I want… to turn off the tap before our bathroom floods.” You pull away and he has to laugh as you wade through the water to stop the steady stream. The warm water reaches just below your knees. You sigh, but the annoyance is dampened by your grin. “Look what you’ve done - distracting me like that. Now my pants are all wet.”

“All wet?” He makes a show of looking you up and down. “I don’t know, love. I see quite a few dry spots.”

Without warning, he steps into the large tub, still in his own clothes, and grabs you, pulling you down with him into the water. Your laughter fills the house. Astarion has never been more in love.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive

[guywrestlingaddiction]

Everything Great About a Match: Joshua Goodman v Randy Stanton (bgeast.com)

Everything Great About a Match: +8

Joshua Goodman v Randy Stanton (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

So let's begin: 

+1: For the fan fantasy match.  It starts off as a wholesome outing with star-struck Randy being led to the wrestling mats by his idol and obsession, Mr.Joshua.  Randy looks like he cannot contain his excitement at being offered a chance against the man, the myth, the legend himself.  That's right, out of all the men on this planet, he picked you Randy - this is going to be an epic day for you.

Randy: *Gulp* This is hot, what you got in here?!

+1: Definitely worth a point to spotlight Mr.Joshua and Randy's chiseled, statuesque bodies. Mr.Joshua is a ripped, muscled mountain of perfection and while Randy's got muscles for days, standing next to Joshua is a exercise in futility - the guy puts everyone to shame.

Joshua: Hey. Six packs are for amateurs, this my friend is an 8 pack!

Randy: Hey I'm working on it...

+1: Joshua play wrestling with the fan. I love how Mr.Joshua gives his fans the full heel treatment by letting them think they have the upper hand only to crush them. In fact, Randy even rallies a come back or two.  I mean, we are talking about Mr.Joshua here, the guy is a wrestling god and to see him lure an unsuspecting rookie, later to crush his dreams and discipline him like a misbehaving child is worth a point. 

Mr.Joshua: Yeah feel that chest. You like that don't you?

Does Randy have the upper hand or is this a trap ready to spring into action?

Mr.Joshua: It hurts, it hurts. Randy: Now you know what I felt like. 

Mr.Joshua: Damaging my pecs?! I'm going to kick your ass for that. 

+1: Dirty talk.  Mr.Joshua knows he's the man.  He knows when a guy wants him and he knows that Randy is aching for this domination.  We all want Mr.Joshua but Randy gets some 'special' treatment here.  I can't recall him indulging his opponent with seductive talk as much as he does here. 

Mr.Joshua: I know you like that.  You like those balls in your face! Who's the man? Randy: ... You are...

Mr.Joshua: I bet that gets you going. Those big thighs.

Randy helplessly squirming under the domination. Mr.Joshua: I know you like that. You like that, it turns you on! 

Mr.Joshua: Look at you.  Look at that package in the mirror...

+1: Mr.Joshua forces him to worship the body that dominated him.  Randy is hurt and curled up in the fetal position only to be dragged back to his senses and forced to worship the man.  

Mr.Joshua: That's it.  Good.  Worship that body.

Randy is looking mighty small against the adonis Mr.Joshua!

+1: Some of us wait for a perfect sunset, others wait for that perfect moment during the match.  It's that moment when Mr.Joshua graces us with his sexy signature move - the "Adjustment".  

+1: Randy gets owned in all the best ways.  There's a moment, around submission #50 when Randy simply goes with it all.  This match is not going the way he wanted it to go and he clearly has no chance against the muscle adonis, Mr.Joshua.  So instead of fighting back, he is overcome with defeat and simply offers himself up to his dominator.  Mr.Joshua says pose for me and Randy eagerly complies.  

[+1] Bonus point for Randy's reaction to it all.  The guy is in unconscious ecstasy here and nearly begs to be put away by Mr.Joshua.  

Randy: *Muffled* Fuck... I submit.  

Mr.Joshua: Flex for me.  Show me your best pec. 

------- Everything Great About this Match: +8

So there you have it. This is an instant classic match with a brutal beat down. While Randy might be sore in the morning, all he'll remember is Mr.Joshua giving him the time of his life.  Randy follows Mr.Joshua on to the mat hoping to put through the ringer and our heel does not leave him hanging.  By the end, all those tips from Mr.Joshua about building muscle are thinly veiled distractions to pump up our jobber only to have his world crash around him like a huge set of biceps chocking him out.  

And with that I leave you with our final 'Adjustment' for the night.

Mr.Joshua: If only you were awake to see this...

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------

It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," you swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," you reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," you beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone, "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," he interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," he purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

---------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

[winged-self-indulgence]

I just think Ray needs a surprise holiday!

You had it all planned out.

Every meticulous step had been perfectly arranged. Every task on the board carefully categorized, broken down into a series of simple goals that you had ticked off one by one. You were on schedule, on time, on a fucking roll. And you were not going to let anyone stand in your way. No matter the cost, even to your pride, you were going to see this through.

“Star…” Ray blinked down at you, dark eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and that ever-present fondness that never failed to make your knees grow weaker. The hand rubbing the back of his neck lowered to curl over your cheek, almost petting you as though you were a misbehaving cat. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing!” You replied reflexively, and then cringed when one eyebrow went up. Too quick. Usually you were a better liar, but this was Ray. Your boyfriend of several months, and the love of your life for almost as much time. You didn’t exactly want to lie to him, but this was meant to be a surprise! Did anyone know how difficult it was to plan a surprise for a mind-reader?! The meditation, the distractions, the waiting until he was out patrolling before jumping online to do research, finish up preparations, and then hurriedly delete the browsing history on your laptop?

It would all be worth it though, you thought determinedly as you marshaled your willpower and stubbornly stared up at Ray. There was no way you were going to trip up this close to the finish line. By tomorrow morning everything would be finalized.

“Tomorrow morning?” Ray echoed lightly, and you immediately froze in place. Shit, he was catching on. Fine, fine, you could salvage this. As long as he didn’t look into your room– “Your thoughts are very loud, Star.”

“I’m panicking!” You retorted, again too loud and too quick. He snickered at your flustered state while you rushed to regain control. “Um. I mean. There’s nothing in my room, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Ray snorted, a laugh escaping him at your obvious attempts. His tall frame cast a shadow over you as he stepped closer, herding you backwards until your spine touched the door of your room. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with something approaching genuine curiosity and anticipation.

“Come on, what's the big surprise you've been hiding from me?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes pinned you in place.  

"Now, now, Ray. Patience is a virtue, you know," you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing. When he stepped forward again, you placed a hand on his chest to prevent him from advancing further. "Besides, that’s the fun in spoiling the surprise too soon? You’ve waited this long, right?"

“I didn’t know I was waiting before,” Ray grumbled, and then a playful smirk curved his lips. “Besides, I know exactly where the fun is," he quipped, leaning in closer until his breath ghosted over your ear. "Why don’t you let me show you?"

Goosebumps formed across your skin as molten heat flowed through your body, down your spine and to the very tips of your toes. You shuddered at his proximity, your own eyes growing half-lidded as your iron resolve weakened under his tantalizing words. In or out of the blue and yellow costume, Ray was impossibly magnetic. There was no way you could deny the effect he had on you. Once he had compared you both to a binary star system, two objects in space intertwined in a cosmic dance. Destined to either be destroyed or separated for eternity.

You thought that was a rather pessimistic outlook. Maybe you wouldn’t always work things out. Maybe you would argue. Maybe the causes would be internal – your own insecurities and worries, Ray’s trauma, his misanthropy, and over-protectiveness. Maybe they would be external – the NAHA, Double Vision, and other villains. To you though, what mattered was that you wanted to work things out with Ray. He made you happy, and you made him happy, and goddammit you were going to commit to that!

You couldn't let him win this time, not when you had gone through so much effort to orchestrate the perfect surprise. It was time for Evasive Manoeuvres(TM).

Ray, lips already at your throat, immediately paused. He drew back, a deep furrow creasing the skin between his brows. “What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded innocently, as the dulcet tones of Jay Park cooing about fat asses transformed into the less dulcet tones of Lil Jon and The East Side Boys. You continued speaking slowly as the lyrics 3-6-9 DAMN SHE FINE, I’M HOPING SHE CAN SOCK IT TO ME ONE MORE TIME played on loop at the forefront of your mind. “I just think my lovely boyfriend should be a bit more patient instead of trying to ruin the surprise I worked very hard on.”

The look he shot you promised swift and punishing retribution, but you stood your ground. You both knew that if Ray really wanted to spoil the game, he had a million ways to do so, up to and including simply picking you up like the aforementioned misbehaving cat.

Kind of like right now. You let out a surprised squeak as Ray tossed you over one shoulder and headed for his bedroom. “Nice try, Star,” he remarked with a low chuckle that you felt acutely between your legs. "But you can't hide your thoughts from me forever. I plan to get it out of you tonight, one way or the other."

Approximately 18 hours later you glared at Ray from the front lobby of the beach resort as the desk worker happily announced that your room had been upgraded to a deluxe suite overlooking the beach. Charitably, he has chosen not to make fun of you, but you still stewed in your emotions as he carried both of your suitcases all the way to the elevator, through the connecting hallways, and into the massive bedroom. You wouldn’t have been able to manage anyway. Your thighs were still so sore that you’d almost missed the flight entirely.

You barely waited for the door to close before you couldn’t hold it anymore. “How did you know?!”

Ray blinked at you bemusedly, and then purposefully lifted a finger to point at himself. “Telepath.”

The pillow you lobbed at him came to a halt in front of his face and remained hovering in place before floating neatly back to the bed. The look he gave you could only be described as shit eating.

“You fucking – ARGH!” You covered your face with another pillow to muffle the mortified screeching. “I really thought I had you! How long have you known?”

“What?!” That had been ages ago, long before I’d even started looking up holiday destinations! “I’ll have you know that meditation is a perfectly normal activity! Why would that be suspicious?!”

Ray hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin while tipping his head back to stare up at the gorgeously paneled ceiling. “For a few weeks. Around the time you started practicing meditation. It was very suspicious.”

A scoff. “Star, you hate sitting still and not moving. You can’t even watch Netflix without either knitting or playing games on your phone, and I’m supposed to believe you just decided to start the one activity that’s about being calm?”

“Bastard,” you pouted, pulling away when he tried to corral you into his arms for an apologetic hug. “You’re so mean to me. Mean boyfriends don’t get kisses when they ruin surprises from their loving partners!”

“Then maybe little brats shouldn’t try to hide things from their superpowered boyfriends,” Ray snarked back, pinching the sides of your face with one hand and holding you still. The smile on his face was impossibly fond and filled with a heat unmatched by the blazing equatorial sun outside. “Still. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you, Star…” he murmured, leaning closer.

Just before your lips touched however, a familiar tune chimed from his phone. The resulting wince was Pavlovian, and you scowled across the room at the phone buried somewhere in Ray’s bag.

He twitched towards it, years of conditioning prompting his body even as it revulsed him, but you were faster. You grabbed Ray by the face and turned his head back towards you.

“I heard there’s a buffet downstairs,” you said. “It’s all you can eat seafood, and there's dessert!”

He blinked at you, attention split for a split second before focusing completely on your face. “Is food all you ever think about?” He chuckled, allowing you to tug him towards the door and out the room. “I should have lured you with free meals.”

“I don’t know,” you hummed playfully, shutting the door firmly on the NAHA and their bullshit. “I think you caught me just fine.”