#I married him and I still love this man to this day

[girlatmirror]

the viscount who loved me | jjk

It was your sister’s season, and she was the diamond, while your season was still a year away. Though suitors could seek your hand already, it doesn’t excuse you for secretly pining after the viscount who courted her.

viscount!jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) morally gray yn and jk, sexism (c’mon it’s the 18th century what did u expect), sex (bye minors), it’s not sex centered tho, longing and yearning (bring real romance back), cheating (is it tho, idk u be the judge), u might get mad at the main characters, enemies to lovers, heavily inspired (or stolen) by my loves anthony and kate 😍😍, yn is the younger sister and has yet to enter her season, but she is in her twenties!! (not specified in the text, but i was thinking jk is like 27, yn’s sis is 24 and yn is like 22, just to clarify) is idk what else. ENJOY!

_

The fresh, sunny air of London on that day called you to leave the mansion and ride your horse, Cinnamon, into the forest, just as you did every morning that was suitable for a nice ride. It was not entirely proper to do so in that society, but they did not need to know about it. You always felt safe; you rode at a time of day when you were sure nobody would see you. You had a set time of 20 minutes; after that, you returned home, wearing a cloak with a hat that covered half your face. If someone were to catch you, you could merely lower the hat, and they would not know who you were. The last thing you wanted was to bring shame on your family, especially not in a society as cruel as that one.

You rode to your familiar place and felt the breeze of the wind in your hair; you felt free. It continued to be the beautiful, calm ride you were used to—until you heard the sounds of a man, seemingly talking to you.

"Miss?" the voice from afar called. "Miss, are you in trouble?" To your dismay, the voice came closer so quickly that you did not know where to go or what to do. If you were to ride deeper into the forest, you would get lost, and if you rode straight ahead, the man would see you either way. It seemed even this baggy cloak could not conceal your femininity as you had thought it would.

The man came nearer, and you turned your head so he would not recognize you.

"Miss, if there is a problem, I shall help you," his deep voice stated. "It is not suited for a young lady to be out here unchaperoned."

You did not say a word, your face still turned in the opposite direction. You did not think it through, and he turned his horse to face you, ducking his head to see you. You had never felt this silly in your life. You took off the hat hesitantly, revealing long curls and innocent, almost pleading eyes.

Before you sat the infamous Viscount Jeon on his horse, a most important figure of the ton. The gossip columns described him as a ‘rake through and through,’ yet he was as captivating as a summer’s night and as wealthy as the stars were numerous. Indeed, there was not a mother in the ton who did not dream of him marrying her daughter.

You were sure he recognized you as well; with your sister being the diamond of the season, there was not a single gentleman in London who did not know the family he wished to marry into.

"I know you," he revealed. "You are the daughter of Baron Ln. Miss, you should not be here alone. It is dangerous."

"I am not here alone, my lord; I am here with Cinnamon... and you are here, also," you stammered, hesitantly and nervously.

The viscount did not hide his amusement, chuckling while shaking his head. He found the entire sentence you had just said to be hilarious.

"You do not need to be scared; I shall not tell a soul about this encounter," he reassured you, still chuckling. "But I believe you should head home now, for your folks should get worried."

You listened to him, still flushed and slightly embarrassed, and headed home.

The Viscount Jeon certainly was gentler than what the columns wrote about him.

___

"Mother, I was unable to breathe in this corset. It was utterly ridiculous, and it elevated my bosoms up to the sky," you said, exaggerating, while your maid tied up the corset—who was, at that moment, your rival.

The last ball you attended had been the first of the season at the palace, where your beautiful sister, Nadia, had been chosen as the season’s diamond by the queen herself. You had been proud beyond measure; your sister was the eldest of your household and often played a secondary motherly role. She deserved to have the finest suitors begging for just a pinch of her attention.

"I did not have such a problem, sister, and my corset was just as tight, if not tighter, than yours," Nadia declared, looking down at her much flatter body.

"I cannot help but wonder why..." sarcasm left your mouth.

Since the queen’s announcement, your mother had not stopped rushing, running errands, investing in your jewelry collections, and buying dresses from the finest modistes in the city. Your mother had always been insatiable and prideful, yet you had never seen this side of her before.

"My dear Yn, your sister is the diamond of the season; she is destined to wed a most extraordinary gentleman, one who must possess both fortune and lands in locales of which we have never even heard, and court her heart with poetry. Such is the very least that the daughter of a most noble man is entitled to receive. She is the jewel of her season, which ensures that all eyes shall be upon her—and upon us. We shall create a most splendid impression at tonight's ball at Danbury House. We simply must," Lady Ln proclaimed, her pride evident as she gazed at herself and her two eldest daughters in the mirror. "Moreover, Yn, what is this lamentation regarding your bosoms? Such femininity is precisely what captivates a gentleman and stirs envy among the young ladies of the ton. You shall also find your match. Both of my daughters are undeniably the most beautiful women of the ton, nay, of the entire world!"

You and Nadia glanced at each other, trying not to laugh at your mother’s boasting. She had been excited to get her daughters married since they were born, always saying that marrying off a son was not as exciting and beautiful as marrying off a daughter. Your two older brothers had both gotten married in the last few years.

You did not like to admit it, but you had been dreaming of your prince charming since you were just a little girl, waiting to get married. Not because of the couples you knew, but because of the books you read that spoke of longing, making you feel as if you were living the character’s life.

"Lena, get the ladies ready; I shall attend to the little ones. They are out in the gardens, engaged in activities unknown to me," your mother commanded the maid, exiting the chamber with graceful haste to see what her mischievous twins were up to.

"Is it not amusing how mama calls Hana and Idris little ones despite their approaching age of sixteen?" Nadia shook her head, smiling. She admired herself in the mirror and told Lena to fix up her hair. "I must look perfect."

Nadia was a perfectionist through and through, the eldest daughter of a baron and his insatiable wife—a combination that could only produce a girl whose expectations for herself were high, too high for anyone to reach.

"You do look perfect. You are the diamond, Nadia; not a single soul in that ballroom shall utter an ill word about you—and if they do, it is out of pure envy," you said adoringly. "I must say, I cannot wait to meet my new brother; I bet he is a most handsome gentleman who shall ask you to dance, and in the morning, he shall call on you, saying how he cannot stop thinking about you and that you are as beautiful as a blooming flower."

Your teasing was accompanied by you dancing around playfully and blinking your eyes at a fast rate, which irritated your maid, who, of course, wouldn’t say a word to you beyond measure as she adjusted your dress. Nadia shoved your shoulder in a joking manner, smiling to herself.

"I shall find myself a love match, much like Baba and Mama—I desire a love like theirs; that is my only goal," her eyes communicated her feelings of yearn, while you nodded.

"You shall. You are your mother’s daughter, after all; you shall always get what it is you desire," you kissed her cheeks encouragingly, and she looked at you with thankfulness.

"Ladies! The carriages have arrived. Make haste!" Your mother’s demanding voice called from downstairs, resulting in you immediately strutting down the stairs.

___

The Jeon family had a reputation to uphold. They were known for their generosity, their welcoming spirits, their lavish homes, and their riches. The viscountess was nothing short of the perfect viscountess, continuing to be so, even after her husband’s tragic death a mere couple of years ago.

She intended to find herself a replacement that season, desperately wanting to marry off her eldest, the viscount. Her desperation did not come from a place of fear of undesirability; it was quite the opposite.

The viscountess feared her son might be looking for a wife for the wrong reasons. What she and her late husband shared was a love she wished for all of her children; yet her son seemed to see the world differently. He wanted a wife only to fulfill his duties and produce an heir.

"Jungkook, the search for happiness and love is not shameful. It is indeed the bravest thing a man can do—to listen to his heart and let it guide him," the viscountess tried to woo her son, who did not look up from his estate’s accounts ledgers. "You cannot hold interviews for eligible young ladies to find a suitable one; you shall know she is the one when you gaze upon her and converse with her for the very first time."

"When will you realize that what you and father had is the exception, not the rule? I am the viscount; I hold many responsibilities, and one of them is to wed a girl of good noble breeding to replace you as viscountess and produce an heir who shall lead this family when I am gone," Jungkook responded calmly. "I have indeed let my heart guide me; we are in agreement. I shall not continue with the interviews, as I have already found my future bride in Miss Nadia, the daughter of Baron Ln."

His mother was shocked at the revelation, looking at him with a glimpse of hope and wonder. "The diamond? Oh, how delightful! She must have great promise to have caught the eyes of the viscount."

She recalled the last ball when the queen announced Nadia as the diamond. Her son had not had a chance to talk to her that night, as the girl was occupied with many overbearing suitors and mothers.

"Yes, indeed, Mother. She is accomplished in literature, she plays many instruments, dances quite beautifully, and she comes from a most respectable family. She shall be my viscountess," he explained further. "We shall attend the ball at Danbury House tonight, united as one. Miss Nadia shall be there as well; we might find a suitable gentleman for Yoona if that is what she wishes." Jungkook was referring to his younger sister as he spoke.

"Wonderful," his mother’s eyes sparkled with joy.

___

The Jeon family arrived quite late, but in style. The viscount dressed in fitted trousers and a crisp white shirt that accentuated his strong arms and broad shoulders, his brothers dressed similarly, and his sisters in beautiful, rich silk gowns.

Jungkook was already on the lookout for a certain diamond who had caught the attention of the entire ton. He was not worried she would reject his advances; after all, he was the viscount, and there was not a single gentleman in London who could claim to be more eligible than him.

"Excuse me," he gracefully pushed through the people standing before the diamond, all waiting for a turn to speak with her. "I wish to dance with you, Miss Nadia."

As the voice of the viscount was heard, the stares of the ton overwhelmed Nadia, everybody in utter shock; the viscount, who mothers had been trying to get to look at their daughters for years, wished to dance with a girl in her first season out? How very surprising and envy-inducing.

Nadia nodded shyly, letting go of her very proud mother’s hand and accepting the viscount’s. She wondered where her sister was until she saw her at the drink stand fetching herself a lemonade.

"You are an excellent dancer, my lady," Jeongguk expressed, his hand in hers as they attracted all the eyes of the crowd.

"That is all your doing, my lord," she shyly answered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "You are quite a natural."

Their conversation continued for the next few minutes. They discussed very trivial matters, but Jeongguk made sure to let her know that she had caught his eye.

Eventually, Nadia moved on to another gentleman, and the viscount disappeared out of sight.

After a while of proudly watching your sister dance beautifully with potential suitors, you decided to step outside for a while to catch a breath of fresh air.

You were not particularly in the mood for dancing that night.

"Do not tell me the Viscount Jeon is looking for a love match this season; what happened to the viscount who visited his courtesan at least once a day and enjoyed a good brothel show?"

As you walked into the garden of the grand Danbury House, you heard a conversation that sparked your interest. A group of men, including the viscount who had just danced with your sister, and a few others you did not recognize, were talking. Letting your curiosity wander, you remained silent and listened to their talk unfold.

"I assure you, I am not out to find a love match; I am simply fulfilling my duties. Is it so impossible to find a suitable wife for a viscount, one who has hips meant for birthing, the ability to woo me with her intellect, and does not require love? It is simply a struggle," Jeongguk complained.

"Not a lady in London lives up to the standards of the viscount, I presume," the other man standing laughed. "I have seen you dance and converse with the diamond of this season; tell me, Viscount Jeon, does the diamond live up to your standards?"

"She is a respectable young woman who I plan on getting to know better, but I must not judge yet, for I fear I do not know what I might find out," the viscount answered the man’s question with honesty.

By then, you were sure your face was red with anger. How dare that man, that filthy rake, talk about your sister or any woman that way? And to think that Nadia was completely smitten with him already, you could not believe this audacious behavior.

They continued talking about useless things.

"We shall go back inside, my lord; are you coming with us?" one of them asked.

"No, you go. I shall join you later," he said, wanting to stay in the fresh air.

He started moving in your direction, and you quickly tried to get away, but your foot caught something, making a loud noise. "Who is there?"

You knew you were as good as caught, so you revealed yourself. "It is you. Were you eavesdropping?"

It seemed his audacity continued.

There was a spark in his eyes as he looked you up and down, as if he suddenly remembered the encounter you had in the woods or as if he really enjoyed what he saw.

"I was not! Also, one cannot eavesdrop in a public space…" you defended yourself. "The words you spoke were filthy and jarring, my lord; I cannot help but believe it is best if you do not let your interest in my sister unfold."

He visibly became uncomfortable, the evidence in his face demonstrating that he knew he had said things that did not particularly present him well.

"Those words were not meant for your ears, Miss Yn," he said, attempting to maintain his composure.

"I heard them regardless. If this is you with all your guards down, if these are your true feelings, you are not a suitable match for my sister," you emphasized defiantly.

The viscount lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his eyes linger on your body until he gazed into your face again. "You do realize there is not a lady in London who does not seek the kind of marriage I offer? That is, besides the privileges of becoming the viscountess."

"Oh, is that true? You assume the ladies of London are so easily charmed by a pleasing smile and nothing more?" you questioned him, causing him to grin.

"You find my smile pleasing?" he smirked down at you.

"I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. And I stand by what I said; you do not suit my sister," you spoke, crossing your arms.

He skimmed your body, an amusing expression forming on his face. "Miss Yn, I remember the morning in the park very well. It seems to me that you do not care much for the rules of this society; that is why you spoke to your viscount in that manner."

"My apologies, my lord. I simply feel defensive over my sister," you apologized, feeling blood rush to your face.

"That is quite all right; I know what it is like to have siblings one cares for," his smile was warm, which surprised you.

After a few awkwardly intense looks between you two, you decided to bow respectfully and leave the scene.

You left Jeongguk standing for a while, the smile on his face visible even from a long distance; your jasmine scent lingered, and your words never left his mind.

___

Ever since the announcement, suitors from all over London had come to visit the Ln house to spend time with the diamond.

You quickly got used to seeing gentlemen in your house every morning, conversing with your older sister while you pretended to be occupied with something else, secretly listening to their conversations.

That day was no different. It was exciting, to say the least, not only because you were happy for your sister, who was receiving all these presents and love, but also because it broadened your understanding of courtships; your sister was paving the path for you in the future.

Oh, how excited you were for your future marriage.

As you walked downstairs after waking up from a long night of carefree sleep, you could already hear the distant sounds of a suitor.

You smiled to yourself, walking into the spacious living room, where you found your mother and father sitting on one couch with smiles that spoke volumes.

As you entered the room completely and saw who your sister was talking to, your face began to drop.

It was him. The viscount.

The man whom you could not escape from, for some reason.

While they finished their conversation, your mother noticed you standing there. "Good morning, Yn! Look who came to visit your sister first thing in the morning! Greet the Viscount Jeon."

You bowed respectfully and begrudgingly spoke, "Good morning, my lord."

He simply smirked, reciprocating the greeting.

It was as if he was provoking you with his handsome face and effortless demeanor.

"I shall head home now," he announced, standing up from his seat. "Breaking my fast here was very lovely indeed, Lord and Lady Ln; I must thank you dearly."

They exchanged pleasantries and enthusiastic goodbyes, of course, not without the viscount promising to come back tomorrow around the same time.

As he stepped outside, you followed him, pretending to go on a garden stroll.

"My lord!" you called after him, making him turn around to you.

"Yes, Miss Yn?" he spoke with a tinge of teasing, which seemed to always be present when he spoke with you.

His coachman was patiently waiting, watching you two standing face to face.

"Why have you called on my sister?" you asked; you were always known for your bluntness, which was something you tried to work on.

The viscount sent you a questioning but amusing look before replying, "Am I not allowed to?"

You shook your head, trying to put your thoughts into words.

"You are allowed," you answered hesitantly. "But what I said to you at Danbury House, I meant. I do not believe you are the right man for my sister."

There was a short exchange of glances between you; you hoping he understood your concerns and him wondering how you gathered the audacity to speak to a viscount that way.

It was not that he was angry about it; he was merely surprised. He had never had a person talk to him that way.

"Miss Yn," he started, his voice low. "I believe your sister can make her own decisions, can she not? And I must say, she did not seem to have a problem with my presence at all… quite the contrary."

You knew he was right, but there was something in your intuition telling you that this would not work out; you looked at him and did not see your sister’s future husband.

Yes, he was wealthy, and he was quite handsome, but still… he was not the man your sister was looking for.

"I believe I know my sister better than you do, my lord," you insisted, as stubborn as you always were.

He simply chuckled. "I do not doubt it," before hopping into the carriage and waving goodbye to you.

You could not comprehend how severely irksome he was.

___

In the following weeks, Jungkook tried his hardest to impress your sister; calling on her, giving her extravagant gifts, attending events and balls seemingly only for her.

It felt like he could propose to her at any moment, and you did not like it.

Your sister, on the other hand, seemed to be very happy with the viscount’s affection for her.

Who would not be?

One day, your mother hosted a gathering in the diamond’s name—an opportunity for suitors to see your sister and make themselves known to her.

The Jeon family was invited and set to attend, but the invitation for the viscount was lost in the mail.

Jungkook was very busy that day; meetings and managing accounts and staff took up a great deal of his time.

He did not have time to prepare himself for the crucial task ahead.

After asking his brother, Namjoon, for help with the poetry he intended to read out loud at the Ln house, he read over the piece of paper and could not control his scoffs; he thought poetry might be the most deceptive tool of all.

Such pretty, empty words.

He ordered a carriage, hastily moving to make it to the party that he was so conveniently not invited to, and hoped for the best.

The doorman immediately let him in, obviously knowing who the Viscount Jeon was—a familiar face to all of London indeed. Marching in as if he owned the place, he found a huge gathering of gentlemen performing their talents—or lack thereof—to impress Nadia.

You and Nadia were sitting next to each other on the sofa; you wore a judging yet amused face, and Nadia looked very grateful for the time they took for her.

He dreaded that his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they did on your sister; you were wearing an accentuating, expensive gown and a classic updo, your expressive eyes drew him in.

"Please excuse my tardiness," Jungkook took his chance right when someone finished his performance, making a loud announcement that turned everybody’s head. "I shall read a poem I wrote for Miss Nadia.”

Your expression was hard to read; though you were certainly annoyed by his sudden appearance, there was something gleaming in your eyes that he could not overlook. Your eyes locked in a room full of people, something that seemed to happen quite frequently between the two of you. Your effect on him made him nervous to perform; for some reason, he cared for your opinion quite a bit.

Naturally, everybody respected the viscount and his wishes, giving him their full attention. Nadia’s smile was beaming; your mother was more than happy to see the viscount show further interest in her daughter, and the rest were in awe of the viscount, whose shell was very hard to penetrate to make such an effort for the diamond.

"What is it to truly admire a woman?" he read from a small piece of paper in his hand, and your heart began to beat faster than it should have. "To look at her and feel inspiration, to delight in her beauty, so much that all— all your defenses—"

Suddenly, he stopped; everybody in the room quieted as they attentively listened to his beautiful words. His sudden silence caught some off guard, including you, who sat there looking at him with longing eyes, and Nadia, whose smile slowly vanished. Whispers began to break out.

"My apologies, I cannot do this," the viscount stated, resulting in Nadia frowning slightly. "Truth be told, I am not a man of poetry; those words are someone else’s entirely."

A few quiet gasps could be heard around the crowd of people, but Jungkook did not shy away from speaking the truth.

"Miss Nadia... I cannot offer you pretty words and rhymes, but I assure you, when it comes to action and duty; I shall never be found lacking."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as if his words were hitting you in your chest.

There was a part of you that was grateful for his honesty; the probability that your sister would not want to continue a courtship based on a false perception.

But there was another part that hated his honesty; why did the man you were supposed to hate repeatedly find his way into your heart by revealing sides of him you felt drawn to?

You knew the viscount did not want a love match.

And you loathed him.

So why did your chest burn with every word he spoke?

You could tell your sister was lost for words, watching the viscount with curious eyes.

"Nadia..." your voice came out smaller than you expected. "If you wish for him to leave, I—"

But your sister’s response shocked you. She stood up and clapped her hands, a sign of approval for the viscount’s words.

Others started joining her, but you stayed put in your place.

Jungkook’s growing smile beamed, feeling relieved that Nadia didn’t seem to mind his lack of verbal affection.

"Nadia," you murmured to your sister. "Did you not hear what he said? He cannot offer you the love that you long for."

Nadia let out an understanding "I know," before explaining herself, "I have come to accept that. I do not need a love match that can turn into an incompatible marriage in the future; I now merely desire a stable, harmonious marriage, and I believe the viscount can offer that to me."

You did not know what to do besides sigh and nod. "I just want you to be happy, Nini."

Your sister took your hand and lovingly squeezed it before giggling. "I do hope you and the viscount can find common ground throughout our marriage."

You simply awkwardly smiled at her to mask the storm brewing inside you.

She got up to confront the viscount, while you sat on the couch, staring into nothingness while contemplating the confusing feelings that were so foreign to you.

___

With every passing day and night, Jungkook found himself consumed by thoughts of you.

You appeared in his dreams, haunting him like a beautiful ghost, the face behind his sleepless nights.

He was aware of the problematic nature of the situation—courting one sister while dreaming of the other was not something a gentleman did.

But your beauty resembled summer nights and hidden love letters, while your resistant character was consuming and complex; yet he saw kindness in your eyes.

To be truthful, he could not stop his thoughts surrounding you since that morning in the park—the first time you two talked, the first time he heard your beautiful voice.

While you swore you would not admit it to a living soul, you felt similarly.

The viscount refused to leave your mind, appearing in your dreams unannounced and causing havoc inside your heart with every moment you stayed in or out of his presence.

You could not bear it.

Not only did the viscount consume you, but shame accompanied him.

But you promised yourself it was a fleeting moment, and he told himself to suppress his feelings.

___

"My dears, we have received an invitation from Jeon House, inviting us for a week to their country residence in order to continue the courtship away from the ton’s attention; is that not lovely?" your mother spoke, excitement evident in her voice. She was sat beside your father, who was paying more attention to the pie.

"Ah, yes, I’m afraid I cannot join you for that trip; I have business to attend to here in the city," your father spoke, placing a reassuring hand over your mother’s. "But I am certain you will handle it yourself, dear."

Your mother simply nodded and smiled, still in a very happy state about where her daughter’s courtship was headed. Nadia was sat next to you with a similar shy smile on her face.

You, on the other hand, could not help but feel a strange sensation; it was so foreign and something you could not describe. You loved seeing your sister happy, yet there was always a selfish voice in your head.

What if the viscount were to propose?

You began to imagine that scenario in your mind, and you did not like the thought of it at all.

But you feared it wasn’t because of your ‘hatred’ for the viscount, but because of something that was quite the opposite.

___

After packing, organizing carriages, and your mother stressing the entire day, you finally made your journey to the countryside.

It was only your mother, your sister, and you, as your mother thought your younger siblings were better off at home with the housekeeper.

You felt beautiful, dressed in the finest clothes, the most beautiful cosmetics put on your already lovely face. But you were in an undeniable state of distress.

Just as you stepped out of the carriage after four long hours, you were met with the friendly faces of the Jeon family.

Your eyes immediately met the viscount’s, who always seemed to have a certain look of yearning and some sort of pain when he saw you. You locked eyes with his deep brown ones, which somehow spoke a thousand words. His nostrils flared slightly, and it was as if you were both in a trance, unable to take your eyes off each other.

You shared a moment swimming in his eyes before he slowly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

Somehow, he looked even more handsome than the last time you had seen him.

You rued those feelings, the tingle you felt near him, the desperate need to be in his strong arms, to be the only one he knew to love—those feelings you had only read about in books, the tingling in body parts you were taught not to speak of.

But more than that, you cursed yourself for feeling them; how dare you think about your sister’s intended that way?

Were you a girl of no upbringing? Were you not a lady intended for marriage in just less than a year? It was breaking not only your soul but your perception of yourself to be plagued by these feelings; but you knew it would break you more to betray your sister, so you knew you had to stay quiet.

Amidst your overwhelming thoughts, a graceful young lady who was about the age of your older sister and bore a great resemblance to the viscount approached you, right after greeting your mother. She stood next to the viscount, and unbeknownst to you, noticed the shared glances of longing between the viscount and you, surprised to see her usually earnest brother so taken by a girl.

"You must be Miss Nadia," she spoke with a gentle smile. "I am Miss Yoona, the viscount’s younger sister. I have heard very much about you. You are even more beautiful than he described."

You bowed respectfully, yet you did not have the words to express that you were not who she thought you were.

Jungkook stepped in, embarrassment slightly evident on his face as he coughed a little. "Yoona, that is not Miss Nadia; that is her little sister—Miss Yn."

He then pointed to your sister, who was greeting the viscountess. You saw a look of confusion on Yoona’s face.

After everybody greeted each other, you settled into the rooms assigned to you and made yourselves at home.

The rooms were spacious, clean, and very elegantly decorated.

The Jeons were indeed a very generous family.

You suppressed the thought of how lovely it would be to marry into the family, as it was just a thought for you, but the reality for your sister.

And you did not want to hurt your sister or yourself.

___

Despite the comfortable beds and the expensive silk fabric of the sheets, you could not sleep.

Not only because you were not used to sleeping on foreign beds in foreign houses, but because, if your mind could not rest, you could not.

Nadia, on the other hand, had fallen fast asleep on the bed next to yours.

You needed something to distract you from the chaos in your head; a glass of cold water or a breath of fresh air would do.

As silently as you could, you got out of bed and started wandering the halls of the grand Jeon house with a lamp in your hand.

It was magnificent.

You breathed in the warmth, smiling to yourself; it was as if the house knew what a loving family owned it.

While walking towards nothing specific, you stumbled into a large room, empty of people and full of books.

You entered it with a calm heart, grabbing one book after another, taking in the beauty of the written words.

Your calmness was short-lived as you heard the huge door open. You gasped loudly and held up the lamp to see who it was.

Before you stood the viscount in a nightshirt that modestly exposed his muscular arms. He looked handsome, even at nighttime.

"Are you not able to sleep, Miss Yn?" he asked while fully entering the room.

You shyly turned your whole body toward him, feeling exposed in your silky nightgown that clung to your every curve.

Feeling his eyes flicker over you, a sense of timidity washed over you. "No... I cannot seem to fall asleep. I do apologize for roaming around without permission, my lord; I simply could not resist these many books."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

"You do not need to apologize," he assured you, now standing in front of you. "This is...was my father’s library. He read and collected books from all over the world. He was a very well-read man."

"May his soul rest easy," you softly sighed, pouting slightly at the mention of his deceased father. "He sounds like an extraordinary man."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "He was. I would not be the man and the viscount that I am today if it were not for him."

You did not answer, simply making space for a short moment of beautiful silence between you. Your eyes were intertwined with his deep ones; you felt as if you could dive into them.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked; you simply nodded. "Why is it that you are so opposed to the idea of me marrying your sister? Do you truly hate me so?"

You broke the eye contact for a second, trying to gather your answer, while your heartbeat undeniably quickened. "I do not hate you, my lord. I simply worry for my sister. I want the very best for her."

The viscount came closer to you, chuckling again, exposing his barely visible dimples. "And you believe that I cannot offer her the best?"

Your arms were now touching, sending electricity through your body.

"I simply cannot forget what I overheard in the gardens at Danbury House," you answered his question as confidently as you could.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly darkened at your words. "Those words were not for your ears, Miss Yn."

You started to become defensive, letting out a "But I did hear them regardless."

He poked his cheek with his tongue, his nostrils flaring up with mild anger, stepping closer to you until there was hardly any space left between you. "You do not know how much you aggravate me, Yn Ln."

You now felt his fresh breath against your face, causing dizziness.

"And you," you uttered quietly in response, your eyelids becoming heavier. "You believe you do not vex me? I have only grown to accept your presence for my sister’s sake, but only God knows how long I will last in this... this lie."

Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in to whisper into it. "This lie that you insist upon, what is it exactly? That you and I vex each other... or that we cannot seem to get away from one another?"

His voice was low and thick, tinged with a hint of teasing. You slightly backed away, but only to meet his dark eyes, which seemed to challenge you.

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing against yours.

"My lord," you spoke in a soft whisper. "I—"

The sound of the door opening interrupted you.

Before you could get away from each other, a shocked Yoona witnessed the scene; as quickly as she entered, she left again, closing the door after saying a rushed "I am so sorry.”

You separated from Jungkook immediately after, running out in embarrassment and shame, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the library.

You could not believe what you had done.

___

Dinner with the Jeons was incredibly amusing; they were a big, loving family who were not afraid to share jokes and stories, even in front of guests.

To say you enjoyed yourself at dinner would have been an understatement.

In a moment of beautiful chaos, everybody laughed while simultaneously discussing intellectual topics. Jungkook raised his glass and stood up to make an announcement.

He was seated at the head of the table.

"I would very much like to start my toast by thanking our dear guests for taking their time to visit us at our country house. We are very delighted by your presence here with us," he started his tasteful speech. "Miss Nadia, it has been a delight to get to know you further. It is safe to say the Baron and Baroness Ln deserve praise for raising such an upstanding, demure woman... I would like to ask you a question, Miss Nadia."

While he spoke, the entire room fell silent, everybody attentively listening. His words added suspense to the atmosphere, making everyone wonder what he wanted to ask her.

It was obvious what everybody immediately thought of—for he was most likely going to ask for her hand in marriage.

Your mother and Nadia exchanged excited looks while you felt a thick lump form in your throat. The Jeons were all looking at Jungkook with an air of anticipation, waiting for him to finally speak the words.

Yoona tried her best not to gaze upon her brother with a frown of disapproval after she experienced whatever it was that happened between him and you the other night.

Jungkook began to awkwardly cough and put on somewhat of a feigned smile. "I wanted to ask you if you were ready for a game of pall-mall with this family or if you’d rather spare yourself the mayhem."

The whole table broke out in laughter—partially because they genuinely laughed and partially to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

But you did not laugh, and neither did your sister.

"I would be... honored to play a game of pall-mall with you and your family, my lord," your sister tried to mask her sadness playfully.

During the rest of the dinner, your hand was placed on your sister’s back, soothingly running it up and down her spine.

___

Hours after the dinner, it was nighttime when you were supposed to be asleep, but you and Nadia found yourselves sitting on the bed—her head on your lap and your hand in her hair.

You always comforted each other in non-ideal situations, but this time felt different; it was the first time you felt you had wronged your sister, being the reason for her despair.

"Perhaps the viscount does not wish to propose because of you," your sister suggested, looking up and trying to gauge your reaction.

Your breath slightly hitched as you felt your cheeks warm.

"Uh—whatever do you mean, sister?" you carefully asked.

Nadia gave you a knowing look, presumably confused as to how you did not understand what she meant.

"The two of you loathe one another!" she exclaimed, her words making you sigh in relief. "He is probably under the impression that you would not approve."

You chuckled lightly at the irony. "Nini, he does not care what I think! I am your younger sister, not Baba or even Mama. Even if I do not approve, I do not make the decisions for this family; Baba does."

Your sister nodded but elaborated further, "I know, but there is something in my heart telling me that you are the reason he is so... reluctant."

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping she would not come to the right conclusions, wondering how you could steer her away from thoughts that could possibly lead to the destruction of your sisterly relationship.

"It is not as if I am desperate to marry him, but I believe it would make Mama and Baba unbelievably happy if I were to marry the viscount," she continued, sighing as she absentmindedly played with her hair. "He is wealthy, and he comes from a great family... I do not want to disappoint them."

"If the viscount does not wish to propose to you, it is not because you are lacking, Nini. You shall find wealthy suitors in every city you visit," you stated your opinion. "But I shall talk to him about it if that is what you wish."

Nadia jumped up from your lap, now facing you.

"I should very much like that, Yn," she admitted.

You gave her a gentle smile before getting up to pay the viscount’s office a visit.

His office was on the other side of the mansion—a long way to walk—but with your thoughts running wild, you did not feel the length of the walk.

You knocked on his door hesitantly and entered after he called out, "Come in."

He was seated at his paper-covered desk, staring down with intensity before looking up and seeing you.

"Miss Yn," he addressed you with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Is everything quite all right?"

You did not feel like wasting time, so you jumped right to your point.

"You have been set on courting my sister despite my every objection, and now you plan to cast her aside?" you accused, your tone defensive. "What has she done to deserve this?"

His eyes darkened; he momentarily forgot about the paperwork, getting up from his chair to walk up to you.

"It is not her," he raised his voice. "It is you."

His honest words felt like a gentle hit in your face; your intuition knew what he meant.

"But I am to marry next season!" you exclaimed reactively.

"You believe that is what I desire you to do?" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "There is not a thing you can do—not a corner on this earth that you can travel to—that will free me from this torment."

He continued, "I am a gentleman; my father raised me to act with honor, but that honor hangs by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"You are the bane of my existence... and the object of all my desires," the viscount added, almost in agony, coming closer to you, whispering in your ear. "Night and day, I dream of you. And when I—do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you..."

Your breath hitched; your tight dress accentuated your breasts as your breath quickened with every word he spoke with every step he took closer to you.

"I did not ask for this," you finally got the chance to talk, facing him directly, barely an inch away. "To be plagued by these feelings... being distracted every time you enter the room, hiding those feelings from my sister... I did not ask for any of it."

"If I were to wed your sister, that would bind me to you for eternity," he stated, stepping away from you. "And I would spend my whole marriage dreaming of you, wanting you, longing for you... until the last thread of my honor snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?"

You shook your head, unable to say anything.

"Then I shall not go forward with this courtship," he declared, his eyes burning into your skin. "If that is what you wish."

You slightly shook your head—not out of disagreement, but as a signal to yourself to stop the urge to melt into him, a dizzying feeling taking over you.

"It is very much what I wish, my lord," you admitted in a whisper. "I could not bear it..."

He stepped closer again, now breathing your air. "What could you not bear?"

Your fingers grazed his and it felt like a fire ignited inside you.

"I could not," you whispered into his ear, fingers tapping gently against his thick arms. "I could not bear the sight of you with her."

Jungkook leaned into your touch, his eyes closing from the overwhelming urge to embrace your whole body.

"Yn..." he softly breathed into your ear. "All I find myself thinking about—all I find myself being able to breathe for—is you. Do you think I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you. Acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a sensation between your legs, pressing them together. He continued, "It is maddening how much you consume my every being."

You grazed your hand further down his arms, eyes locked and bodies almost pressing against each other; if anyone were to catch you, it would be scandalous.

"No," you protested in a whisper. "It is you— you who has thrown my world off its axis, you who has made me question my sanity, you who consumes my every thought, so do not dare to blame me... do not blame me."

Your lips brushed against each other, his breath hitting your lips and your breath hitting his, before they finally collided and became one in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered down to your defined waist, grabbing onto you as if you would fly away.

Your hearts were racing; he cupped your face with one hand and fiddled with your dress with the other; you melted into one.

"Tell me you want this," Jungkook insisted in a breathy, aroused voice.

"I want this, my lord," you purred against him, before gently biting into his lower lip. "Teach me everything you know."

Jungkook had no self-control in that moment, feeling like an animal in the wilderness.

He loosened the ties of your dress with an urgent hand, and you felt the cool air caress your skin as the fabric fell open. Your breasts, heavy and full, spilled out of the dress, begging for his attention. Jungkook's eyes locked onto them, his pupils dilated with desire.

His hands wandered down to your hips, gripping the curve of your bottom through the thin fabric of your undergarment. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled you closer, his mouth still devouring yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the tension in his body a testament to the passion that burned between you.

"Are you certain?" he asked once again, his hands working to remove your undergarments.

You simply nodded, too dizzy and aroused to form a sentence.

Your hands wandered over his shirt, playing with the buttons before tugging on it, urging him to take it off, which he did, revealing his strong arms and chest. You kept your hands glued to them while he took off your bodice, revealing your full breasts to him.

Lifting you up and sitting you down on his desk, he immediately massaged your breasts and took one in his mouth, licking and sucking on it, making you moan in pleasure. "I have dreamt of this very moment for so long, Yn."

You ‘hmm’ed in response, grinding your hips against his in search of friction. You felt a big bulge in his pants, moving your own up and down on it, resulting in quiet groans from Jungkook.

"I..." you tried your best to formulate a thought. "I am so... sticky between my legs, my lord; is that normal?"

Jungkook chuckled amidst his arousal, leaning in to plant a short kiss on your lips. "Yes, my love; that is quite a good sign. Do not worry."

You felt comfortable with him; you admitted, "I have the same feeling quite often when I think of you," without realizing the implications.

Jungkook threw his head back in desire, unable to contain his urges to take you right there.

He took your hand in his and led it to his pants.

"Feel it," he urged, his voice simmering with lust as you began to grab his hardness and gently rubbing it. "That is what you do to me, Yn."

You tugged at his pants, and he quickly took them off, first revealing his drawers, which he removed as well.

He could not waste any more time.

As he revealed his large penis, you gasped.

"Do not be afraid, my love," he assured. "I will be very gentle.”

You were seated on the desk, and he was standing before you, his naked parts touching, with gasps and moans filling the entire room.

He positioned himself in front of you, looking into your eyes to ensure you were ready, only to be met with your awaiting gaze.

"What are you going to do now?" you hesitantly asked, hands on his bare arms.

His hands were placed lovingly on your soft waist, soothing you to ensure you were comfortable. "I will enter you now."

You nodded, not fully understanding the idea.

You blamed the mamas who were too ashamed to speak of essential things like that one.

Slowly entering the tip inside you, you gasped from the pain. "It hurts, my lord."

Jungkook stopped for a moment to cup your face, planting a kiss on your lips. "It will take time, but soon enough, you shall find pleasure in it, I promise."

You gazed at him, immediately believing his words, but wondering, "Does it hurt you as well?"

Jungkook laughed at that, slowly starting to thrust gently into you. "No, not at all. It is a very pleasant feeling for me."

His words came out as grunts, which you found incredibly attractive.

"Well, that is certainly unfair," you pouted, but gradually adjusted to the new feeling.

Jungkook agreed with you, saying, "I know," while chuckling.

As you began to get used to his thrusts, you leaned in even closer, urging him to fully enter you and thrust harder.

"You are simply the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes upon," he praised with hushed grunts, to which you cooed.

The fact that your families were outside the four walls of his office, peacefully sleeping, was something long forgotten by both of you, alongside the idea that he was the man who was supposed to be courting your sister.

You chose to forget about the one thing that was printed in your mind for the past months, even if only for a few minutes.

His thrusts began to become stronger, eliciting seductive sounds from both of you. His strategy to make less noise was kissing you almost the entire time.

His big hands roamed your entire body, and your legs wrapped around his hips; you were surprised at your ease—being with him felt not only beautiful but also effortless.

After a few final thrusts, his hips began to stutter, and a foreign sensation started to form in your stomach, causing you to look at him with a helpless expression, to which he answered, "I know, I know, my love; just allow it to happen."

You hesitantly let go, your head tilting back as you felt yourself reach a pinnacle—a feeling of pure bliss.

Jungkook could barely speak understandably, closing his eyes as he savored the last few thrusts before he reached his orgasm, pulling out and coming on a piece of cloth before he could release inside you.

"You did beautifully," he smiled and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You simply smiled back, the shame slowly returning as you put on your dress again.

He engulfed you in a gentle embrace before whispering into your ear, "Go rest now, my love; we shall see what we do tomorrow. Do not worry about anything; I will take care of it. That is a promise."

Somehow, you did not feel comforted by his words, but you reluctantly obliged, ignoring the slight pain in your legs as you walked through the halls of the mansion back to the room you had to temporarily share with your sister, who was already asleep.

You could not sleep that night, too consumed by wondering how and when you became that bad of a person.

___

The following day, you avoided Jungkook as much as you could. You felt ashamed, dirty; you felt like a bad person.

Your uncommonly quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by your mother and your sister; they kept pestering you about it.

But you did not know what to say to them.

Throughout the entire game of pall-mall, you acted out of the ordinary, not playing as well as you normally could.

Nadia and you were playing with Jungkook and four of his siblings, who were all much better players than the two of you.

"It seems you have forgotten the game, sister," Nadia giggled, watching you struggle with the mallet.

You kicked the ball hard in the wrong direction and almost tripped over; if it had not been for the strong hand that held your waist up.

"Be careful," the viscount’s deep voice rang in your ears.

Although you could stand on your own, he continued to hold onto your waist, his lips almost touching your ear. He forgot his surroundings, and so did you, as you locked eyes and shut out everything that was not each other.

It was a sight of pure chemistry, pure love; a blind man could see the feelings sparking between the two of you.

Visions of the prior night swirled in your mind as you leaned into his muscular body, completely in tune with him even in sheer silence.

Until Yoona interrupted you two with a cough, causing you to separate as quickly as possible from each other with more than embarrassed faces.

Jungkook’s siblings awkwardly laughed, and Nadia’s eyes, which you were avoiding, were boring into you penetratingly.

After the game, you went back to your rooms to prepare for lunch.

Strategically dodging your sister as much as possible, you pretended like nothing had happened between the viscount and you, while your insides brewed with fire.

But Nadia was the confrontational type.

"I see the way you look at each other, Yn," she admitted to you, hurt evident in her voice. "I have seen it for a long time, but I thought... you hated him. Had I known you did not, I would have ended the courtship."

"Nini..." you whispered. "I did not want to hurt you. I do not know how I could have been so selfish. You do not know how much I hate myself right now. I did not tell you because I was ashamed of myself... I did not want you to think that I purposely wanted to steal the man you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Nadia exclaimed in response, "I love you! You are my sister, Yn. If you would have told me from the beginning, I would not have been angry with you."

"I am so deeply sorry, Nadia," your face was a tearful mess at that point. "I did not know what to do; I thought... I was sure this would be just a passing infatuation, but... please forgive me, sister."

Your sister’s gentle hands found their way to your tear-stained cheeks. "I understand..."

"Please, I beg of you, do not let this ruin our sisterhood," you sounded pathetic, but you did not care.

You loved a man you were not supposed to love; you did things you were never supposed to do.

"You are my little sister, Yn," even in anger, her voice was soft and assuring. "You always will be... but do give me time to process this."

You nodded, immediately pulling her into a warm, strong embrace, whispering "I love you" to her.

___

You traveled back to London in complete silence, your sister still unsure how to talk to you and your mother, disappointed in the lack of proposals, but still happy with the time spent together.

For a couple of weeks, you did not hear anything from the viscount or his family. You tried to distract yourself with books and art, but nothing filled the emptiness in your heart.

You knew you gave the viscount the impression that you did not wish to speak with him, but you longed to hear or read his words.

One day, your mother entered your room with a pensive look. "Mama, what is it?"

"Yn... I have news, very important ones," she sat down at the edge of your spacious bed and took your hand in hers. "The viscount... he asked for your hand this morning. Your Baba approves, and Nadia does too, my love."

Your heart jumped outside your body for a moment, completely in shock.

You were happy, but you were not at the same time; perhaps the viscount only proposed because he was the gentleman he claimed to be and was merely fulfilling his duty?

"The viscount does not love me, Mama; I know it..." you sniveled, sadness washing over you. "He is simply fulfilling his duties because we..."

Your mother cut you off with an understanding look.

"Yn..." she spoke softly. "It is well; you do not need to tell me what happened between you and the viscount."

You sent a grateful gaze at her.

She always knew the right words to say when you were in distress.

"But, my dear," your mother expressed in an almost hesitant tone. "Whether the viscount wishes to marry you out of duty or out of love... I believe we should accept his proposal."

You were not angry at her idea because you wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, but you feared he felt forced into proposing.

It was as if your heart had declared war on your mind.

Reluctantly, you nodded.

"I understand," you softly whispered. "Tell Baba to accept his proposal, but I wish to speak with the viscount beforehand."

Immediately after what you said, your mother ordered the maid to send an invitation for tea to the Jeon house.

___

The next day, Jungkook arrived with his mother by his side and an expensive bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"These are for you," he handed them to you, smiling shyly.

You silently thanked him, feeling the awkwardness brew; thankfully, your mother took the viscountess aside and left you and Jungkook enough room for a private conversation.

"I have not heard back about the proposal yet," Jungkook carefully started.

You nodded. "I have my Mama’s and Baba’s approval... Nadia’s too."

Jungkook watched you with attentive eyes, trying to gather what was holding you back from taking him as your husband.

"But I am afraid you are only proposing because of what happened at the country house," you confessed to him, looking down at your lap. "I do not want a marriage that is based solely on duties, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked frustrated, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, Yn," he grabbed your chin gently, locking his eyes with yours. "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

You looked away for a second, tears of joy and longing filling your eyes.

While you gathered your words, he continued, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

At that point, your face was tear-stained all over, returning your gaze to him as you smiled delicately.

"I love you, Jungkook, and I will marry you," you declared. "But do not think there will come a day where you do not vex me."

He now wore a big smile on his face, leaning in to engulf your full lips in a gentle kiss.

"Is that a promise, Yn Ln?" he breathed against your lips.

___

hiiii, i’m back!! i hope u all get my vision of jungkook as the viscount bridgerton because i do. btw, i’m sorry i’m not rlly active on here but i am a college student okay, i am very busy i cannot help it😭😭 i try to write as much as possible but a girl’s gotta have priorities. anyway, i hope everybody who reads this has a nice day💋 (btw, i love ur feedback, ur comments, etc. so pls don’t be shy)

[voxslays]

NEED SOMEONE OLDER — HWANG IN-HO

➴ After the deaths of his first wife and unborn child. In-ho decides to spend the rest of his miserable life as the frontman, killing players who were in his same position he used to be in. In-ho thought he would never love again…that was until he met you.

➴ You were younger than him, by almost fifteen years. You were in your late twenties, having come to the games to pay off your student loans. But little did you know, someone was keeping an eye on you from afar.

➴ In-ho had already decided to join the games this year, wanting to keep his enemies close instead of monitoring them from afar, but you being in the games only gave him more incentive.

➴ In-ho—now known as player 001—who instructed his guards to keep you safe no matter what. In red light, green light if you were caught moving? No you weren’t. In Dalgona, if you broke your cookie? Nobody saw it.

➴ In-ho was quick to gain your affections, charming you as the older, married man, Young-il. He felt bad about lying to you, but it was the only way to keep you safe, for now.

➴ During mingle, when you twist your ankle after being pushed out of the way by a muscular man around your age, who shoved his way into the same room as Young-il right before the doors shut, he killed the young man mercilessly.

➴ When one of the pink circle guards points his gun at you, Young-il shouts out some command, that sounds like gibberish, and the guard grabs a needle out of his pocket, causing you to see black before passing out.

➴ When you wake up, you wake up in a warm Alaskan-sized bed. The walls around you were floor to ceiling windows, with a view of the surrounding sea. You pull the dark grey sheets off your body, ready to fight for your life when the frontman walks in. You gasp.

➴ In-ho takes off his mask and explains everything. He deflects your questions about the other players safety. Are they even still alive? In-ho tells you it’s been a week since you’ve last been conscious.

➴ In-ho takes his time, trying to get you to personally fall in love with him…which you do. You stick by his side as he oversees the games and manages the VIPs. And soon, Mr. Hwang pops the question on the island’s beach right after a batch of the games has concluded.

A/N: Omg y’all are crazy….thank you so much for all your support.

Idk how the hell I managed to get 1k notes in one day lol.

[bbyseok]

the final conclusion of this post, where your boyfriend gojo satoru always starts floating because of his powers whenever you kiss him…

some time in your second or third year, satoru got ahold of his powers and no longer floats up into the air after you bestow him a kiss on the lips. it’s a funny endeavor that you’ll miss, but it did make your make out sessions a whole lot easier.

it’s years later.

he’s older now—you both are; your seemingly carefree high school days are long behind you now, but the two of you still find yourselves at jujutsu high as teachers.

gojo satoru couldn’t ask for a better partner than you to help him navigate his dream in supporting a new generation of sorcerers, and he gets along with his students very well (so he says).

your life is far from perfect… plagued by dangerous curses, riddled with the higher ups’ stupidity, getting through every day not knowing what could happen next—but it’s enough for you, especially with satoru at your side.

but it seems like it’s not quite enough for satoru.

it’s some time past midnight.

even after all this time, gojo still craves those stupid, overly sweet candies and late night snack runs. old habits die hard apparently.

he claims that it keeps your love life spontaneous, and who are you to deny him?

“‘toru…” you groan, rubbing at your eyes groggily as he tugs you along.

you’re clad in one of gojo’s hoodies that thrown over you in his haste, and it’s much too big on you with your hands that are drowning in the arm sleeves. (but for the record, you look like the epitome of perfection in your boyfriend’s eyes like this.)

but the snowy-haired man pays little attention to your weak protests, his boyish laugh being carried on the evening breeze.

it’s a fond sound you’ll never tire of as he says, “come on, sweetheart! i promise i’ll get you whatever you want.”

he always does.

and after you’ve secured snacks and whatever gojo had been craving for, you’re back outside. but you only take a few steps when it strikes you that this place seems somewhat… familiar.

the artificial light glows strongly from the convenience store, paired with the glistening moonlight pouring down from the night sky. it’s simple and pretty, but you’re distracted by the way it highlights satoru’s eyes.

this is the very same place where you and satoru had your first kiss.

it’s been a while since you’ve both been here—life is like that. the lights and windows have been altered in appearance, and the building itself has aged… but it’s obvious that it’s still the same place.

“satoru?” you sputter out, surprised.

he merely grins at you, his head tilting to the side bashfully with his snowy bangs falling over his eyes. “i never forgot about this store,” he confesses, glancing at it briefly.

your gaze softens, following his gaze. “me either.”

gojo grabs ahold of one of your hands, his thumb gently tracing over the lines of your knuckles as he meets your stare again. “you know, i think i fell in love with you that night you kissed me here,” he tells you, followed by a quiet chuckle.

his words cause a flurry of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he always manages to do that, even after all this time. “yeah?” you hum softly.

satoru nods. “mhm.” after a moment, he continues. “so i… i think it’s rather fitting that i do this here too.”

you blink at him. “..do what?”

with his free hand, gojo digs into his jacket pocket for something. there’s a permanent smile sketched onto his lips as he finds it, and then—

he slowly sinks down on to one knee.

there’s a ring held delicately in his fingers, glistening in the dark. your breath catches.

you hadn’t expected for him to propose to you like this—way past your bedtime next to the convenience store with a grocery bag full of candies in your hands but now that you think about it… it’s very gojo satoru for you.

at the look of bewilderment painted over your face, satoru laughs.

“well…” and he utters your name with a tenderness that you and only you know, “will you marry me?”

a wobbly laugh leaves you then, your heart caught in your throat. “—!? yes! yes, satoru, i’ll marry you.”

gojo slips the ring onto your finger with ease, like it had always belonged there. you immediately pull him up to his feet as the two of you eye how the gemstone glimmers against your skin.

when your eyes meet his crystalline blue ones, it feels like the stars are under your feet, meeting him halfway in a passionate kiss.

you’ve kissed him probably more than millions of times in this lifetime—through the good and the bad; some are somber, some are silly.

and tonight?

you’re— oh, you’re floating.

sure enough, satoru’s feet are off the floor due to his powers for old times’ sake, dragging you up with him in his arms, and it makes you giggle against his lips.

“‘toru?!!”

but gojo seems just as surprised and amused by this circumstance just as you are. you can feel the puff of his laughter, the kind of laughter that makes his shoulders shake.

“guess you still sweep me off my feet,” satoru cheekily remarks.

to which you only respond with a fond roll of your eyes—and another kiss that steals his breath away and keeps you both in the air.

oh, well—soon, he’ll be your husband that occasionally floats when you kiss him.

[miabebe]

Two Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol) Teaser

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1.5

Choi Seungcheol was your parent's best friend's son, the man you lived with for two odd years and the face you woke up to everyday but that didn't mean the two of you didn't have issues to navigate. After all, everything changed when one argument turned into two beds and seven days apart. Your only worry was that in all this, the distance it took over twenty years to cover, might just find its way between the two of you again....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 3.4k for teaser (Estimated full fic WC - 13k)

Genre - Ah our sweet little idiots have gotten some issues so angst, romance, hurt/comfort, obviously banter cause it's these two. Oh and smut.

Warnings -smut, making out, cheol lifts reader, fingering (that's all for teaser, lots more coming in the full fic hehe)

A/n - Hello my loves, surprise surprise! This is super duper overdue - The love Too Many Beds gets to date still makes me feel so touched so I wanted to have a little something out for everyone who, like me, is so attached to our little idiots in love! If you want to be tagged in the full fic, please leave a comment below and if you want to be tagged in all fics of the series, then drop a comment on the taglist!

TUESDAY

You glanced at Seungcheol silently getting ready in front of the mirror. The man still doesn't know how to tie his tie. 

On any other day, he would've asked you to do it, looking down at you fondly while you worked the knot but today he just threw it on the bed with a frustrated sound and walked off. Sighing, you picked it up, folding it neatly, putting it on the rack.

Seungcheol also really loved to eat breakfast with you. Yeah it was his favourite meal of the day but what he really liked was watching you in the kitchen, humming and swaying around to the music as you cooked. You, of course, loved having his eyes on you first thing in the morning - more often than not, it was you who ended up on the table for him to have his fill. 

Today though, he barely glanced at the kitchen before he grabbed his bag, slipped on his shoes and closed the door behind him with a resounding slam. No kiss today. In the two years that you’ve lived together, he’s never not kissed you. 

Huffing annoyed, you threw your half eaten pancakes in the bin and followed his suit - grabbed your bag, wore your heels and slammed the door shut behind you. 

This was stupid. 

This whole fight was stupid. 

You didn't mean for it to escalate this far. What had been a casual statement that stemmed purely out of frustration had turned into a full blown Cold War. 

You picked up the photo of the two of you in your office, the one that you had framed, the one from your wedding. From your first wedding actually, when the two of you got sick of your parents fussing over the arrangements and simply flew to Greece overnight, getting married there, all by yourselves. You really love this picture - Seungcheol wearing a perfectly fitted white shirt, his arms wrapped around you from behind while you matched him, donning a white beach gown, a pretty crown of flowers on your head as you half turned to look at him, the two of you laughing. 

Being married to Seungcheol was.....like a dream. To be honest, you hadn't ever dreamt this was possible - that your parents best friend's son and childhood arch rival would be the one whose arms you'd wake up in everyday.

Again, except today. 

Today you woke up on the bed alone while he spent the night on the couch. Given how much Seungcheol liked to cling onto you in his sleep, you were habituated to waking up all suffocated, pulling away from his grip while he’d draw you back, snuggling in your arms, asking you for five minutes more. Sometimes he let you go in five, sometimes it became twenty, with two orgasms added. Either way, with him you always woke up hot, sweaty and mildly annoyed but you missed his warmth today.

You missed him terribly.  

But not anymore.

This had to end. 

Seungcheol didn’t expect to see you at home so early. 

Ever since your event management venture had started, you had been busy with the logistics of it all - hiring people, setting up the office, and dealing with your first ever event, your dear cousin’s wedding. That meant you often reached home around midnight, way after Seungcheol finished his dinner, when he would be slipping into bed. To see you in the kitchen, whipping up a meal should have been a pleasant surprise yet Seungcheol showed no change of expression - he simply threw his bag on the couch, changed into his gym clothes and left the house. 

Sighing, you grabbed his bag and slid it on the shelf in his office room. It had been years yet his habit of leaving things around hadn’t changed one bit. Neither did he - he was just as caring, just as in love with you and just as much your best friend as he had been since day one. It was you who was the idiot. 

Last night, even though you had come home earlier than usual, for some reason you were more exhausted than you had ever been. Seungcheol of course, like any doting husband, was happy to see you, pulling you onto his lap the moment you dropped on the couch, finding your lips with a long, much needed kiss. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be intimate with him, but there was something weighing on your mind when you walked into the house, something you had been meaning to ask him. But before you could get a word out, gripping your thighs he lifted you in his arms, walking you towards the room. 

“Cheol, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“What?” Setting you on the bed, he hovered over you, pulling his shirt over his head. You were feeling unnaturally hot too, so you quickly unbuttoned your shirt and like he had been deprived for months, Seungcheol ravenously descended on your breasts, littering the curve of it with hurried kisses and bites. It hadn’t even been that long since the two of you last had sex… okay, it had been a week which was considerably long given how often you two got at it but you had been really busy launching your business, just like you were busy thinking about it now.  

“Cheol, listen to me.” 

“I’m listening.” He said but his hands worked on your pants, pulling them down as his mouth found your neck. 

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” He sighed, slipping his fingers below your underwear, finding you wet between your legs. “But I’m also not going anywhere, we can talk after-” 

“But this is important-”

“So is this.” He muttered, sliding his fingers in slowly, pulling out a soft moan from you. “Fuck, I missed you baby.” 

Screw this man. Nothing made you feel as good as he did.

“I missed you too…” Holding his face in your hands, you kissed him softly, clenching around his digits. “F-faster Cheol.” 

Groaning he adjusted over you, putting himself in an angle that allowed him to slip another finger in, pumping them faster, curling them when needed.

“Oh god yes…” Forehead pressed against his, you felt your eyes shut as the knot deliciously tightened in your guts. Watching you ready to fall apart, Seungcheol found your clit with his thumb, the sensation of him rubbing circles making your walls flutter around his fingers, soaking them. 

“That’s it baby.” He whispered, encouraging you to ride it out, allowing you to grind your hips against his hand. “Come for me.”

And within minutes, you did, your orgasm washing you in waves as you wrapped your arms around your husband, nails digging into his back as the most wonderful sigh of relief left your being. 

Seungcheol chuckled as you held on to him, your breath fast and shallow. “Are you okay? You just seem so wound up these days, I thought this might help.” 

You grimaced as you let him go, allowing him to roll off you. “Yeah, work’s really been a bitch off late, which is why I-” 

“Shhh.” Seungcheol pulled you into his arms again, dropping a soft kiss on your head. “Just leave work behind for a bit Y/n. You’re home now, take a breather and relax.” 

“I’m not too tired or anything.” You pulled away from him, sitting up. “And I know I shouldn’t bring work home but the business is just launching and I don’t want to mess things up.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol followed your suit, sitting on his knees. “You won’t. You’re one of the most capable people I know, you got this.” 

You sighed. 

He was always so encouraging, he always believed in you so much. But maybe if he just listened he’d know the truth. He’d know you weren’t that capable after all. That things were messing up. That you really needed help. 

“How about you just-ow!” You shrieked as you shifted, trying to put some space between the two of you. 

Your hand had found that bumpy crack between both beds, slipping right in between it, the edges of the mattress grazing your palm.

Yes both beds - Unfortunately, you and Seungcheol had to bring the beds from your childhood in your parents' house because thanks to um certain activities, the comfortable king size bed in your master bedroom had effectively…. broken. Since then, the two of you had put together the two single beds you had grown up in, promising to go mattress shopping when you were free. It had been a month now but somehow, the time for it never came. 

“We really need a new bed.” You mumbled, rubbing your hand, moving away to your side. “It's been days since we slept properly.” 

Seungcheol hummed, half crawling towards you. “I told you, we didn’t need two, you and I can manage on one-”

“Cheol…” You let out a breath, knowing what he was approaching you for again. “You said we’d talk after-” 

“Yes after.” He smirked, pushing you back gently, hovering over you again. “But I’m not done with you.” 

Oh he was only just getting started. You could feel his erection pressing against your groin and considering it had been a while since the two of you were intimate, you knew it wouldn’t end anytime soon. Seungcheol had the tendency to go on for hours sometimes. 

Softly pushing him off, you turned away. “What if we spoke first and then continued-”

“You know I don’t like leaving things halfway-” 

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have started it in the first place-”

“You say that after you’ve had your turn.” He pulled you back, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth by your ear. “It’s too late to back out now baby.”  

“No it's not too late,” You wiggled in his grip. “We could just stop-”

“Nope,” Seungcheol smirked against your skin, his hand going between your legs again. “It's my turn now-”

“Cheol, I said stop!” 

You didn’t mean to push him with such force or for your elbow to land right in his stomach - all you wanted was to simply get away for a minute. Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed and surprised as you slid off the bed, buttoning your shirt again. 

“For God’s sake Cheol, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long but all you want to do is have sex!?” 

Sitting up, Seungcheol looked confused, concerned and hurt all at once. “Y/n I… I thought-”

“How about you stop thinking and listen to me!” You exploded, glaring at him accusatorily. “I really wanted to talk to you Cheol, I wanted to share something but you just….” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose you turned away from him.

“Y/n I’m sorry…” You didn’t notice the way he winced, holding his abdomen as he slid off the bed, approaching you hesitatingly. “You seemed so stressed, I thought I was helping-” 

“The way for you to help was to listen to me!” You threw your hands in the air. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I am under? I’m trying to do something for us, for our future, but all you want to do is just…. it’s been barely a week Cheol, why is sex always the only thing on your mind?” 

“You…” Seungcheol looked at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “You think this was about me? That sex is all I care about?” 

The moment those words left him, you knew you were wrong. Of course not, Seungcheol loved you, more than anything and you knew that. He was just trying to help - how was he to know that you weren’t just trying to vent like always, that you wanted to ask him if he could quit his job and join you in the business? How was he to know the severity of things? 

“I…” You turned around to him, finding him clutching his stomach, wincing in pain. “Oh my god Cheol, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t.” He held his hand out as you approached. “Please don’t.” 

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone, regretting your words. 

That night, you tried to approach him again but Seungcheol was uncharacteristically subjecting you to silent treatment. You knew that wasn’t his way of working through things - Seungcheol was a mature man. He talked things through, he knew how to fix issues. The fact that he wasn’t having any conversation with you clearly meant that your words had hurt him beyond belief. Of course you were sorry about it, and you tried telling him that, many times, but he didn’t seem to listen. Instead, for the first time in two years of marriage, Seungcheol slept on the couch, away from you. 

You had hoped he would at least be more receptive to you in the morning but his cold behaviour continued and his stubborness irked you. Fine, if he was going to be such a child about this, so were you. But as the day progressed you realised how stupid it all was. You didn’t want to play tit for tat with your husband, you just wanted things to be normal with him again. That’s why leaving all your work behind, you wrapped up the last meeting of the day as quickly as you could and arrived home way before the sun set, making his favourite meal as an apology. 

But it seemed like he still didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t smile when you smiled at him. He didn’t smirk at you when your eyes ran down his water streaked, towel clad body as he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t even eat dinner - just donned his pajamas and got ready to sleep on the couch. Again. 

“Cheol,” You walked up to him as he threw his comforter on the couch. “I understand you’re mad but that’s no reason to avoid eating.” 

“I already ate.” His answer was curt. Hurtful. He would never forgo the chance to eat a meal made by you. 

“Cheol I’m so sorry about yesterday, you know I didn’t mean what I said, it was just in the heat of the moment.” 

Silence. That’s all he gave to you in return. Silence. 

You watched as he settled on the couch, turning on the tv, ignoring your presence. You could’ve just walked off. You could’ve just let your ego take over - after all you had been constantly apologizing to him since last night while he was behaving like a five year old. But at least one of you had to behave like an adult so you did, sitting on the floor before him, taking his hands into yours. 

“Cheol listen to me-”

“Y/n please, don’t do this, get up.” 

You ignored him. “Cheol I’m really sorry, tell me what I should do to fix this-” 

“First get up please, just…” He pulled you onto your feet, making you sit on the couch next to him. “You don’t have to apologise like that.” 

“Then what do I have to do to make things right again? To make us okay again?” 

“It’s….” Seungcheol sighed looking away. “It’s not you. I…. I was just thinking about things. I didn’t mean to seem cold.” 

“You ignored me all day.” You turned his head to you, glancing at him sadly. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye…” 

“I didn’t know if I should.” He whispered, looking away. “I didn’t know what you’d think of me if I got close to you again.” 

“Cheol…” You could feel tears pricking your eyes. You had really hurt him. 

Throwing your leg around his waist, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Too tight. 

But Seungcheol didn’t hold you back. 

“I’m really really sorry Cheol.” You muttered in the crook of his neck. “I’ve just been so stressed about work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it was not fair to take my frustration out on you.” 

When he still didn’t wrap his arms around you, you pulled back, holding his face in your hands softly. “I know it wasn’t just about sex, I know you were trying to help and I’m sorry I lashed out. Please just….. Please talk to me, we can talk it out-” 

“No, no I’m sorry Y/n.” He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just…was thinking about what you said and-”

“Please don’t.” You hugged him tight again and this time, Seungcheol hugged you back, placing a soft kiss in your hair. “Just forget what happened, okay? It was my bad, it was just in the moment.” 

You could feel him hum, his chest vibrating against yours as you held onto your husband, relieved to have finally put this behind you. The two of you sat like that till the sound of the rain hitting the glass with a soft pitter patter took over the silence and you drew back, looking at him with a small smile. 

“Come sleep in the room?” 

Seungcheol nodded, letting you go as you quickly slid off his lap and grabbed his bedding, heading to the room.

“You didn’t have dinner either Y/n.” 

“Not hungry!” You called back as you put the pillows on his side of the bed again. “I’m kinda nauseous actually.” 

Walking into the room, Seungcheol looked he didn’t believe you before his eyes fell on the bed you were making and he gulped. 

“Y/n I…”

You turned, looking at him confused. “What happened?” 

“I can’t do this.” He confessed, taking a step back. “I can’t…”

“But Cheol I apologised-”

“No, no.” He quickly approached you, noticing how your face fell. “You didn’t have to, you were right, I… I’m the problem-” 

“That’s not true-” 

“If helping you was what I wanted, I would've stopped after you were done but I...” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t listen when you kept saying you wanted to talk, I just kept going on, like some untamed animal-”

“Cheol stop it.” You reached for his hands, trying to talk sense into him again. “You know its not like that-”

“Do we?” He looked at you frowning. “How do we know I’m not some sort of crazy sex addict?” 

“Because you…what?” You looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense. Clearly, whatever went down last night was still not letting him think straight. “Cheol what are you saying?” 

“I just… I don’t want to sleep here.” He pulled away from you. “I don’t want to sleep with you till I know I’m…”

You let out a deep breath, shaking your head. “You’re being really unreasonable right now.” 

“I just want to prove to myself that it's… it's not all about sex.” 

“There’s nothing wrong in wanting to have sex with your wife!”

“But I also want it to be more! To listen to you, to look after you, to be there for you.” 

“And you think not sleeping with me is the solution?” 

“I’m not trying to solve anything.” Seungcheol insisted. “I just want to put some space between us…. Didn’t you say last night that it had only been a week? So just, give me another, I’m… just trying to see something for myself.” 

You blinked at him. You had so many rebuttals to counter him, so many things to point out that didn’t make sense. But you also knew Seungcheol well enough - there was no point arguing with him, not when he was so emotionally driven. The only way to do it was to give him what he asked - seven days. You could do that much, right? 

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the couch for a week.” You crossed your arms, letting out a heavy breath. “You can just sleep on the bed. Nothing has to happen between us.” 

Seungcheol glanced over your shoulder, lost in thought. Then suddenly he walked over and grabbed the bottom of the bed, pulling the cot apart, turning one bed into two. You watched as he dragged it away, putting a considerable distance between the two of you. “Cheol….” 

“Just seven days.” 

You looked at him across you, sitting at a distance it had taken over 20 years for the two of you to cover. All you could hope was that the next seven days did not put a lifetime of distance between the two of you again. 

A/n- Ahhhh I'm so excited to have the full fic out! I didn't think I would ever continue the story for these two but not gonna lie, they're always on my mind hehehe Do leave your thoughts and comments - it'll truly push me to get the full fic out fasterrr

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he���s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[thebunnednun]

Not On My Watch!

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Spice 18+, Wc: 20K+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: Katsuki can't sit still after seeing a video of you, his WIFE, getting her feet massaged by another man.

Tw: Sweet then spicy, lots of making out, pet names smut, free use, slight body worship, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, sexy slave mention, (both f! & m! recieving/giving), vaginal fingering, pussy play, multiple orgasms (both), ass play, groping, biting, creampie, dumbification, slight breeding mention, predictor and prey, anal, spanking, petnames - mdni (like my whole tumblr), cursing, dirty talk, care and love is given.

You've been warned.

When I say aged up I mean mid 20's early thirties.

Inspired by this short, Give her some love too plz, she's so funny<3

Read the note below afterwards. Lets get into it.

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. You stirred slowly, the warmth of the covers cocooning you in a comforting embrace. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, you became aware of the quiet hum of the world outside. Stretching lazily, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.

A small, knowing smile crept onto your lips.

The sheets were cool to the touch, a clear sign that Katsuki had left early. Yet, the faint scent of his caramel lingered in the air, and you were certain you’d been given a kiss goodbye before he slipped out for his shift. It was just like him to leave quietly, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest after the rough night you’d had.

You and Katsuki have been married for just shy of a year, a whirlwind romance culminating in a partnership that felt as natural as breathing. Life as a pro hero was demanding, but the rough shift you had last night was enough to leave you craving a bit of solace and pampering. Your body ached in places you’d forgotten could ache, and your mind was still clouded with the remnants of exhaustion. 

Glancing around the room, your gaze drifting over the familiar details that made up your shared space. The nightstand on his side held a few scattered items. His phone charger, a half-empty bottle of water, and the book you'd convinced him to start reading—though he'd grumbled about it, he was already five chapters in. On your side, a small vase of fresh flowers brightened the room, a surprise Katsuki had brought home just days ago.

The bedroom was a reflection of your life together—simple yet filled with thoughtful touches. The neutral tones of the bedding were offset by pops of color from the pillows and the soft throw blanket draped over the chair in the corner. The faintest scent of lemons drifted from the open window, mingling with the crisp, clean air of the early day.

You sighed contentedly, sinking back into the pillows for a moment longer. The day stretched ahead, filled with the promise of relaxation and self-care. You fumbled around the sheets for a moment before finding and scrolling through your phone. The girls had recommended a new nail salon that recently opened downtown, promising it was the perfect place to unwind. It sounded like exactly what you needed. With a few quick taps, you shot a text to Katsuki.

Princess Peach: I’m heading to the new nail salon the girls told me about. It's my day off, so I'll meet you after your shift. I love you!

You leaned back against the pillows, waiting for his reply. It didn’t take long.

Teddy Bear: Fine with me. Send the amount when you’re close to done. 

Teddy Bear: Love you too.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. Even through the screen, his gruffness had a way of making you feel cared for. You could practically hear the way his voice softened just at the end, a rare tenderness he reserved only for you. You stretched languidly under the plush covers, the scent of fresh sheets wafting through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

The soft cocoon of the bed beckoned you to stay, but the promise of a new day lured you from its embrace. Stretching luxuriously, you swung your legs over the edge, a smile curling on your lips as your eyes landed on the familiar pair below—your favorite bunny slippers, perfectly placed right where Katsuki knew your feet would touch the floor. The sight of them warmed your heart, a simple yet thoughtful gesture that never failed to remind you of his care.

Slipping your feet into the plush slippers, you padded across the room, the cool hardwood floor transitioning to the soft rug beneath your toes. You reached for your robe—a cherry red one that you loved—draped neatly over the armchair by the window. Wrapping it snugly around yourself, you headed towards the bathroom, the early morning light spilling in through the windows casting a gentle glow across the room.

The bathroom mirrored the tranquil elegance of the bedroom, with its sleek marble countertops and soft, ambient lighting. You grabbed your toothbrush, applying a dab of minty toothpaste before brushing your teeth. The refreshing burst of mint awakened your senses, each stroke a familiar routine preparing you for the day ahead.

Finished, you made your way down the hallway, the sound of your slippers muffled against the polished wood floors. The house was a sanctuary of calm and order, and as you moved through it, the faint scent of caramel and lemons drifted through the air, a delightful blend that made you breathe deeply, savoring the homey aroma.

Descending the luxury staircase, each step a smooth glide, you were greeted by the sight of your home sparkling clean, every surface gleaming under the morning sun. It was as if the house itself had been rejuvenated overnight. You reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, stepping into the large living room. The space was a testament to your combined tastes, a harmonious blend of comfort and style.

Every detail had been meticulously curated. The soft, oversized couches adorned with plush throw pillows in your favorite shades; the coffee table, a sleek bookshelf holding a few well-loved novels and a vase of fresh flowers; the walls lined with art pieces and pictures that shared stories of your adventures together. The curtains and blinds had been drawn open, allowing the sunlight to pour in through every window, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. The light danced across the floor, creating shifting patterns that added an almost ethereal beauty to the scene.

You took a moment to bask in the tranquility, the serene atmosphere filling you with a sense of gratitude. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the love and care that filled your home, that you felt truly at peace.

Leaving the living room, you made your way to the heart of the house: Suki’s kitchen. This space, unlike the others, was a reflection of Katsuki’s meticulous tastes. Every element, from the colors to the layout, bore his signature style and passion for precision.

The kitchen was a modern marvel of design and functionality. The counters were crafted from sleek black and white marble, their polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of the high ceiling lights you had insisted upon—strategically placed to prevent anyone from bumping their head. The deep oak wood cabinets, a rich contrast against the lighter counters, lined the walls, offering ample storage space while adding a touch of rustic warmth.

Appliances gleamed in their stainless steel glory, each one carefully chosen for its efficiency and aesthetic appeal. There were double ovens built seamlessly into the wall, perfect for Katsuki’s ambitious culinary endeavors. Two large sinks sat on opposite ends of the room, each with a state-of-the-art faucet, allowing for the kind of multitasking that your husband thrived on. Off to the side, a pre-kitchen area was tucked away, an extension for more intricate prep work or storing additional cookware.

The pantry was a thing of beauty, fully stocked and alphabetized, a testament to Katsuki’s need for order. Every item had its place, and the fridge—oh, the fridge—was a sleek, modern design that allowed you to see inside without opening it, displaying its contents like a prized collection. It was stocked to perfection, everything arranged just so, with little notes stuck here and there, a system you both found oddly satisfying.

As you moved through the kitchen, you couldn’t help but remember the construction phase. The flurry of contractors and delivery teams bustling about, bringing in appliances and asking a stream of questions. Each time, you’d simply pointed to your scowling husband, letting them know it was his call. His initial gruffness was often met with hesitation, but you knew better. He might have stomped around, inspecting every detail with a critical eye, grumbling under his breath, but you stayed by his side. Your presence eased his social anxiety, allowing him to communicate on creating the space he had envisioned.

He was your gremlin, your wonderfully stubborn, exacting gremlin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Every detail of this kitchen was a testament to his love for perfection, and standing here now, in the heart of your home, you felt a wave of affection for the man who had poured his heart into making this space a sanctuary. A small smile played on your lips as you noticed the neat plate left on the stove, a thoughtful note from Katsuki propped up against the fridge.

Use the toaster oven to reheat your food so it doesn’t ruin the taste. See you soon. - K

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing over the words before you reached for the plate. Despite Katsuki’s well-meaning instructions, you decided to eat the food lukewarm, not wanting to lose the initial burst of flavor. A little mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you purposefully smudged a bit of syrup on the microwave door,(The very one you had to fight tooth and nail for!) Knowing he would sense something amiss in this kitchen before he even stepped through the door and would get worked up until he realized what happened. 

Breakfast satisfied and your mind already envisioning the day ahead, you sauntered back up the stairs and into the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over your body, washing away the remnants of fatigue from the previous night's shift. You reveled in the tranquility, the gentle hum of the water a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

Wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel, you padded over to the walk-in closet, your eyes lighting up at the sight of your favorite two-piece sweat suit. The soft fabric hugged you comfortably, a perfect blend of style and ease. You grabbed your purse, the anticipation of a pampering session at the new nail salon buzzing in your veins.

Today was your day, and you were ready to indulge in it fully.

You grabbed your Juicy Couture purse from its spot by the door, the soft leather gleaming under the light as you slung it over your shoulder. A moment of contemplation followed as you pondered which car to take—your sleek options lined up in the garage, a reflection of both yours and Katsuki's tastes. With a playful smile, you decided on the pearl white BMW, its elegant curves and smooth handling making it the perfect choice for the day.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you reveled in the luxurious feel of the leather against your skin, the familiar hum of the engine purring to life beneath your fingers. The drive to your favorite café was quick and leisurely, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the streets. You pulled into the drive-thru, placing your order with a smile, and soon enough, a perfectly crafted drink was in your hands, the aroma rich and inviting.

With your drink in the cup holder, you headed toward the upscale salon and mall area, finding a convenient spot in the parking lot. Leaning back in your seat, you sipped your drink leisurely, the peaceful ambiance of the morning settling over you. The salon, with its chic exterior and promise of indulgence, awaited just beyond. Savoring the last few moments of quiet, you allowed yourself to relax fully, the anticipation of the pampering session making the day feel all the more luxurious.

Omg, the girls weren’t lying. 

The salon was a haven of tranquility, a serene escape from the relentless pace of hero duties—a sanctuary where the burdens of the day could be set aside, even if just for a while. As you stepped inside, the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, instantly easing the tension in your shoulders. The interior exuded understated elegance, with soft, muted tones that created a calming atmosphere. The decor was a harmonious blend of chic and cozy, featuring pastel walls, plush chairs, and ambient lighting that bathed the room in a soft, inviting glow. Every detail was thoughtfully curated to evoke a sense of peace and relaxation.

A warm smile from the receptionist greeted you, and soon you were escorted to a luxurious chair. As you sank into the plush seat, a technician approached with a menu of beverages. You selected a refreshing iced cherry soda, the vibrant hot pink drink a perfect complement to the tranquil surroundings. The cool, sweet flavor was a delightful contrast to the warmth of the spa treatments awaiting you, a sensory experience that promised rejuvenation.

Settling in, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the calm ambiance. The gentle hum of quiet conversations and soft music provided a soothing backdrop as you prepared to indulge in this well-deserved moment of self-care.

The experience was nothing short of divine. The nail technician's gentle hands worked wonders, massaging your tired fingers and shaping your nails with meticulous care. You found yourself recording snippets of the process, a habit born from those middle school days when you and Denki had decided to try your hand at becoming influencers. Despite the demanding life of a pro hero, you still cherished these moments of creativity, sharing slices of your life with a loyal following.

The soft hum of conversation, the soothing music, and the indulgence of the pampering session left you in a state of bliss. You felt rejuvenated, every muscle relaxed, and a newfound energy coursing through your veins.

As you shifted to the pedicure station, you were greeted by a young man with a friendly smile. His easy demeanor put you at ease as you settled into the comfortable chair. When you asked for a cute French tip, he nodded confidently, assuring you he could handle it. You leaned back, savoring the calm atmosphere, a book open in your lap as he got to work.

The salon was mostly empty, allowing for a tranquil silence to settle over the space. You alternated between reading and capturing small moments on your phone, careful not to distract the young man too much. His focus was intense, and his movements were precise, a testament to his skill.

However, it wasn’t long before you noticed something… different. 

His hands moved with expert precision, but the way he was massaging your feet felt more akin to a deep tissue massage than a standard pedicure. His fingers pressed into the arches of your feet, kneading away tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. The strength in his grip was undeniable, and you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his company t-shirt as he worked with dedication.

A blush crept up your neck, and you quickly switched your phone’s camera to record your reaction. Your face, caught between flustered and perplexed, filled the screen. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the slight widening of your eyes and the subtle twitch of your lips betrayed your surprise.

"Y’all, why is this man rubbing my feet like I don’t have a husband!"

Is what you captioned the video with a playful smirk before sending it off to the girls' group chat, hoping to share the humorous moment with your friends. With a sigh, you set your phone aside and tried to focus on your book, determined to relax despite the unexpectedly thorough massage.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that in your haste, you had accidentally sent the video to Katsuki.

Who, unbeknownst to you, was just finishing up his morning shift. 

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-training banter, laughter echoing off the walls as the group of friends wrapped up their routines. Katsuki was methodically stowing his gear, his face set in a determined scowl as he prepared to clock out for his half-day. The hum of casual conversation filled the space, Denki lounging nearby with Katsuki's phone in hand as he played Crossy road.

A notification lit up Katsuki’s screen, and Denki, ever the curious one, leaned over his chair with a sly grin. "Hey, man, that’s from your wife!" Denki said, his eyes gleaming with intrigue as he caught a glimpse of the video thumbnail.

Sero and Mina, not ones to miss out on the fun, sidled up next to Denki. "Oooo," they chorused teasingly, exchanging grins as Mina leaned closer to get a better look. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, slamming his locker door shut with a decisive clang.

"Don’t be weird," Katsuki growled, his voice low and edged with annoyance. 

His sharp eyes narrowed as Kami opened the message, the video playing in his hand. The sight of the young man’s hands on your feet, combined with your flustered expression and teasing caption, sent a surge of possessiveness through him.

Katsuki’s lips curled into a familiar scowl, the kind that sent shivers down the spines of villains. The familiar itch to protect and assert making his steps quicker as he made his way out. He knew you were at the salon, enjoying your day off, but now he had a sudden, burning need to make his presence known.

He grabbed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, but not before Denki pulled his own phone out and made quick work of showing the video to Mina.

She squealed in delight, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "She’s at that salon! The one we recommended to her!" Mina said, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Kirishima, who had been tying his shoes nearby, perked up at the mention. "Do they do pedicures?" he asked, his tone curious. He caught the raised eyebrow from Sero and held up his hands defensively. 

"Hey, good foot hygiene is important for men too!"

Sero snickered, but nodded in agreement. "You got a point."

Katsuki, meanwhile, was grumbling under his breath, his patience thinning with each passing second. The thought of someone else touching you, coupled with the playful video you’d sent, made his protective instincts flare.

"Mina, where’s the salon?" he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent.

Denki, ever helpful, fished out the name from the video you’d posted on your story before she could ask why. He sent it over without missing a beat, the group watching with mild amusement as Katsuki’s scowl deepened.

"I’ll see you all tomorrow," Katsuki barked, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he turned on his heel and strode out of the locker room. Kirishima’s brows shot up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Whoa. He never says goodbye like that," he remarked, glancing at the others.

Sero crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Something serious must be happening," he mused, nodding toward the door Katsuki had just stormed through. Mina clasped her hands together, her grin mischievous. "Whatever it is, you know Bakugo’s gonna handle it in his own way." Denki snickered, slinging an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. "Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Hope the salon survives Katsuki’s visit."

“Maybe he’s finally gonna take care of those dogs of his.”

“Es un animal con ropa puesta.”

The group shared a laugh, each one picturing the storm that was sure to unfold with Katsuki on a mission.

—

The hum of the salon was soothing, a gentle rhythm of soft chatter and the occasional clink of tools as the nail technicians worked their magic.

You were reclining comfortably, your attention drifting between the subtle aroma of the lavender-scented air and the meticulous artistry unfolding before you. The young nail technician was expertly applying a baby pink French tip to your nails, each stroke so precise it felt as if he’d spent a lifetime mastering the craft. A small crowd of other technicians gathered nearby, watching with quiet admiration as he worked.

You were mid-way through admiring his steady hand when the faint chime of the doorbell caught your ear. At first, it barely registered, your focus lingering on the soft curves of the polish being applied. But then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots hitting the tiled floor reverberated through the salon, and a shift in the atmosphere had you glancing up.

There, framed in the doorway, stood your husband, Katsuki Bakugo, in all his formidable glory. His sharp gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto you instantly. The tight grey T-shirt stretched over his sculpted frame and dark grey jeans—no doubt a product of Best Jeanist's influence—fit him perfectly, accentuating his powerful build. A black jacket thrown over his shoulders completed the look, giving him an effortlessly cool demeanor. His expression, however, was anything but relaxed.

Your heart skipped a beat as you waved at him, a warm smile lighting up your face. "Hi, pookie!" you called out, your voice sweet and affectionate.

"Hi," Katsuki grumbled, his deep voice softened only slightly as his eyes remained fixed on you. He spared a brief glance at the young nail technician, whose confusion was evident as he turned to face the towering figure now standing behind him. The technician quickly returned to his work, muttering something about the session being almost done and how it was a pleasure working with you.

You thanked him for the lovely design, your eyes twinkling with appreciation before turning back to Katsuki, a pout forming on your lips. "Come here," you beckoned, wondering why you hadn’t yet been wrapped in one of his warm, grounding embraces.

Katsuki didn’t hesitate. In a few swift strides, he was by your side, his arms encircling you as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, fervent kiss. The world seemed to blur at the edges, your book, Juicy Couture purse, and phone almost slipping from your grasp as his intensity overwhelmed you. His lips were demanding yet tender, drawing out a soft sigh from you before he pulled back just enough to plant two more kisses on your now-flushed lips.

His hand smoothed over your hair, his touch gentle and grounding. "Ya wanna get your hair done too while I hit the grocery store?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with a softer undertone meant only for you.

You blinked up at him, nodding slowly. "Do you have a specific style in mind?" you asked, curious about his sudden suggestion.

Katsuki shrugged, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "I love your natural hair. If ya wanna go for that, do it. But if yer thinking about something different, go for it." His tone was casual, but the sincerity in his words made your heart swell.

You chuckled softly, recounting that the two of you had an event later in the week. "Maybe I should get a blowout," you mused, already imagining the sleek, polished look.

Without a word, Katsuki pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket and slipped it into your purse, his actions swift and without fanfare. "Get whatever ya want," he said simply, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of affection and determination as he settled into a nearby chair, crossing his arms as if staking his claim on the moment.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you as you savored his gesture. Katsuki had a way of making you feel cherished and understood, even in the simplest acts. The salon might have been an oasis of calm, but with him there, 

It felt like home.

The nail technician returned with a bottle of lotion, his demeanor professional yet gentle as he began applying it to your feet and legs. The soothing motions were a balm for your tired muscles, and you sighed softly, leaning back into the plush chair. Your slightly rolled-up pants exposed just enough for the technician to work efficiently, but the moment Katsuki’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, you knew things were about to change.

Katsuki shifted in his seat, his gaze locked on the young man’s hands as they moved over your skin. His fists clenched, the tension radiating from him like an impending storm. Finally, he stood, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the technician, who glanced up in surprise.

“Move,” Katsuki ordered, his voice low but unmistakably firm. He didn’t give the younger man time to argue or even process the command before reaching for the bottle of lotion himself.

The nail tech stepped back, his face flushed with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. He mumbled a quick, “Of course,” before retreating a few steps, his eyes darting nervously between you and Katsuki.

Your face heated up as well, caught between amusement and mortification as Katsuki squirted some lotion into his hands, his movements precise and purposeful.

He knelt in front of you, carefully lifting your foot onto his knee, your leg almost touching his clothed chest, and began massaging the lotion into your skin with a familiarity and expertise that only he possessed. His fingers worked magic, kneading away the stress and tension with firm but tender strokes. His ears turned a deep red, betraying his effort to maintain a stoic facade, and he resolutely avoided meeting your gaze.

You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest as his touch sends waves of warmth through you. 

Katsuki was thorough, his concentration evident as he ensured every inch of your foot and leg was cared for, before moving to the other leg. His broad hands made the task seem effortless, and yet you could see the faint tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

When he finished, Katsuki reached for the little foam flip-flops, placing them delicately on the floor. He gathered your book, purse, and phone, his actions smooth and efficient. Then, with a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier intensity, he took both of your hands in his, helping you to your feet and guiding you into the flip-flops.

He handed you your belongings momentarily before excusing himself to wash his hands at the nearby sink. You stood there, still somewhat dazed, before turning to the young nail tech with a smile. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a $25 tip, handing it to him with a sincere thank you. He bowed deeply, his face still tinged with color as he expressed his gratitude.

You waddled over to the reception desk, the soft padding of the flip-flops muffling your steps. The receptionist greeted you with a warm smile, and just as you were about to pull out your wallet, Katsuki was there, his platinum black card already in hand. He passed it to the receptionist with a quiet, “Here,” and added a $10 tip to her as well. You smiled, pulling out another $30 to tip the first nail tech before expressing your thanks for the excellent service.

As the receptionist and technicians wished you a good day, you turned to find Katsuki already holding the door open, his gaze softening as he reached for your purse and book. You handed them over without hesitation, your heart fluttering at the small, protective gestures that were so uniquely him.

Before you could take another step, Katsuki scooped you up effortlessly, one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. He held you close, his familiar warmth seeping into you as he stepped outside into the crisp early afternoon air. His stride was purposeful, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection as he carried you toward the car, every bit the overprotective, loving husband you adored.

As Katsuki carried you towards the car, he maneuvered effortlessly, balancing you with one arm as he reached for the passenger door handle with the other. The door swung open, but before he could set you down, your hands found their way to his head, fingers threading through his ash-blond hair in that tender, familiar way only you could manage.

Your soft touch was magic against his scalp, a soothing caress that sent waves of warmth radiating through his body. Katsuki felt the tingles ripple along his nerves, the sensation making his breath hitch as his knees threatened to buckle under the blissful spell you wove. His face, pressed against your tummy for a fleeting moment, grew hot, a telltale flush that you felt even through the fabric of your clothes.

Carefully, he placed you inside the car, the motion deliberate as he tucked you into the seat, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary. You felt the heat emanating from him, a gentle reminder of his vulnerability in your presence. He leaned over to buckle your seatbelt, his fingers brushing against you with the lightest touch.

You cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms, and leaned in, brushing your nose against his in a soft Eskimo kiss. Katsuki closed his eyes, leaning into the tender gesture, returning it with a gentleness that made your heart ache in the best way. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before making his way around the car to the driver’s seat.

As he slid into his seat, you seized the moment, quickly applying a layer of your favorite strawberry lip gloss. The sweet scent filled the air as you prepped yourself for what you knew was coming. The instant he buckled in, you pounced.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a deep, fervent kiss that left him momentarily stunned. Katsuki’s eyes widened in surprise at your sudden burst of strength and passion, but he quickly melted into it, his lips moving against yours with an equal hunger. He let out a low, muffled sound of approval, his hands finding your waist as he unbuckled your seatbelt, giving you the freedom to shift closer.

You moved fluidly, swinging a leg over to straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips as you settled into his lap. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back and gripping your waist firmly, as if grounding himself in the moment. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with your own as the kiss deepened, both of you lost in the electrifying connection.

Katsuki leaned back into the seat, pulling you with him, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted his head to better meet your lips. His breath was hot against your skin, mingling with the faint taste of strawberry from your gloss. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a subtle reminder of the strength he held, though in this moment, he seemed entirely at your mercy.

Fucking delicious. 

The world outside the car faded away, leaving only the cocoon of intimacy you shared, every kiss, every touch a testament to the deep bond between you.

Katsuki’s grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your sides with a possessive fervor that sent a thrill shooting through your body. His lips moved with urgency now, a heady mix of passion and need, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands, still cradling his face, slid down to his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, a reminder of the raw power he carried so effortlessly.

You arched your lower back, pressing yourself closer, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest. The sound vibrated against your skin, stirring something primal within you. Katsuki's hands roamed lower, one slipping under the hem of your shirt to splay across the bare skin of your lower back, his touch hot and electric. He pulled you even closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps between fervent kisses.

The intensity grew as you shifted in his lap, your hips rocking against him, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Katsuki. His hands roamed freely now, one sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he gazed at you with a heat that made your heart race. The other hand slipped lower, gripping your thigh with a firmness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, laced with desire. The raw honesty in his words ignited something fierce within you, your body responding instinctively as you leaned in to capture his lips once more, your kiss deeper, more demanding.

“I know!~”

Katsuki shifts beneath you, his hands sliding under your thighs as he lifts you slightly, adjusting your position to press you against him even more intimately. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours, the air between you thick with unspoken need.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently, and he groans, the sound low and primal, sending a ripple of excitement through you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing just enough to send a delicious jolt of sensation, before soothing the spot with a gentle flick of his tongue. The contrast was intoxicating, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Goddamn, baby, you’re perfect," he whispered, his lips trailing along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His hands moved again, this time slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your body.

"Suki," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and anticipation. His name on your lips was all the encouragement he needed as he claimed your mouth once more, the kiss deep and consuming, as if he wanted to devour every inch of you. His hands explored with a confidence and familiarity that left you dizzy, your body responding to his touch as if it were second nature.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Katsuki, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten as the heat between you intensified, leaving you both breathless and utterly consumed.

So you decided to have some fun. 

You pull back, your hands gently but firmly pushing Katsuki back into the chair. His deep vermillion eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and confusion flickering across his face. He stays still for a moment, trying to process your sudden change in demeanor, before narrowing his eyes and attempting to rise again.

So you push his big bodied ass back down. 

Katsuki blinked, still dazed as he found himself pressed back against the seat, your hands firmly on his chest. His eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of confusion, frustration, and something else—something sad. His lips parted as if to speak, but you beat him to it, your voice soft yet teasing.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, your smile playful as you gently pushed him back again when he tried to sit up. His brows furrowed, and he blinked at you, clearly perplexed by your sudden shift in mood.

“Hah?!” he finally managed, his tone edged with irritation, though the confusion remained.

His reaction is sharp, but there's an undertone of bewilderment as he searches your face for answers, clearly unprepared for your unexpected move.

You tilted your head, keeping your smile intact as you poked his cheek gently. “Why are you acting more gremlin-ish than usual? Does this have anything to do with that video I accidentally sent you?”

His gaze sharpened, and he scoffed, turning his head away from you. “Tch, no.” His arms crossed over his chest in a defensive gesture, a barrier between him and the vulnerability you were nudging at.

“Come on, Kats, don’t be like this,” you coaxed, your fingers continuing to poke and prod his face, knowing you were one of the few people he’d ever let touch him like this. You press your first fingers into the soft squish of his apple cheeks before gently tracing over his scar. Katsuki’s jaw tenses, but before you can push further, his hand shoots out, swift as a viper, snatching you up in one fluid motion.

With surprising ease, he shifted you beside him, laying you down in the cramped space of the driver seat, pinning you with his gaze as he hovered slightly over you. His voice low, eyes scanning your face as if reading your every thought.

“Ya wanna go home now or get yer hair done?” 

You pouted, your hands resting on his chest and forearms. “Why can’t you just communicate when it’s obvious you were a little jealous?”

His thumbs pressed into the soft spot on your hip, a subtle reminder of just how dangerous this territory was. His smirk, however, was sharp and knowing.

“You wanna tell me now, or get nothing when we get home?” you teased, your voice a playful challenge.

His eyes narrowed, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he leaned forward. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, try it,” you dared, your grin widening as you watched him wrestle with himself. His gaze flicked back to you, hesitant but defiant. Finally, he huffed, the blush deepening.

“I didn’t like that other man touching all over my wife,” he admitted, his voice gruff, the words almost sticking in his throat.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up. “Katsuki, he wasn’t touching all over me,” you corrected gently. “And I’m not letting up until you look at me.” Reluctantly, he met your gaze, his blush not fading as he sighed. 

“Hi,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice light, affectionate. Leaning up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. 

“You’re such a cute baby girl when you’re jealous.”

His groan was immediate, a low, rumbling sound as he let his head fall onto your shoulder. “That killed it,” he grumbled, his hands finding your waist as he flipped you over onto him. “You’ve got two choices—here  or yer hair appointment.”

You giggled, pressing your palms against his chest. “Katsuki, we can’t do ‘that’ here.”

“Why not?” he challenged, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of your back and stomach, his hands hot against you.

“For one, it’s public,” you pointed out, shivering as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his mouth continuing its path, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

“And two,” you continued, your voice breathy, “someone could see us and make a report.”

That, at least, made him pause.

He huffed, frustrated, before burying his face in your neck, his arms tightening around you in a possessive hug. You stroked his hair gently, your fingers threading through the soft strands. “Aw, you big baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

His lips curled into a faint smirk against your skin. 

“Hey! No pinching!” you squeaked, feeling the mischievous squeeze on your butt.

“You make it too easy,” he teased, his voice low and warm, his hands settling into a gentler hold as he nuzzled against you, content to bask in your presence despite the lingering frustration.

You pulled back from the kiss, gazing into Katsuki’s eyes, your heart swelling with affection. “You make my life easy,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of gratitude. “Thank you for always taking care of me and being such a good husband.”

A warm smile tugged at Katsuki’s lips, and before you could even process, he was kissing you again. This time, it was more tender, more loving. His left hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle as he leaned into the kiss, his lips molding against yours with a careful, almost reverent pressure. You felt his right arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer, securing you against him, not an ounce of space between your bodies.

Your fingers naturally found their way to his chest, resting over his quickly beating heart. You could feel the steady, fast thrum beneath your fingertips as you traced the spot, watching as he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You sank down into his lap, moving slowly, deliberately, your body settling firmly against his. You tangled your fingers into his soft, spiky hair, feeling the strands between your fingers as you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into the feeling of him beneath you. Your breath evened out, and you let your forehead rest against his, the space between your hearts closing as you intertwined your left hand with his right. You could feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat in his fingertips, and it matched the rhythm of your own.

“Thank you for lettin' me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice hushed and almost reverent.

You stayed like that, your foreheads touching, breaths mingling as time seemed to stand still. You couldn’t help the small, contented smile that tugged at your lips, your fingers lightly tracing the veins running through his hand. There was something so intimate in that simple gesture, in the way you could feel each other’s pulse, the unspoken connection that ran between you. The world outside felt far away, and in this moment, it was just you and Katsuki.

“Awwww!”

The sudden, loud chorus of voices from the outside made both of you freeze, and your hearts skipped a beat. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you both turned toward the window, where the unmistakable faces of Denki, Mina, Sero, and Kirishima were pressed up against the glass, their exaggerated expressions of glee clear even from here.

“OH, YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE!” Denki shouted, his grin practically stretching ear to ear, his thumbs up in the air as he made obnoxious “heart” hand gestures.

Mina’s hands were pressed against the glass, her face lighting up as she made kissy faces toward the two of you. “I’m literally dying!” she squealed, fanning herself dramatically. “You two are so cute, oh my god, you’re giving me life!”

Sero, ever the playful one, was pretending to wipe away fake tears, looking utterly overwhelmed. “Look at them! El verdadero amor nunca muere! My heart can’t take it!” he moaned melodramatically.

Kirishima stood behind the others, arms crossed over his chest, his smirk wide and proud. “Yo, that’s my bro! Keep it up, man!” He gave Katsuki a thumbs up, completely unfazed by the fact that you both were clearly caught in a very private moment.

You froze, caught between the shock of being interrupted and the heat that was rapidly rising to your cheeks. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from Katsuki, who had gone completely still, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, his jaw tightening in that way that meant he was fighting off embarrassment.

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him like a wave, and you couldn’t help but giggle despite yourself. “Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into his, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled up. You could feel Katsuki’s face burning against your skin as he growled low in his throat, his body tense beneath you.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiots!” Katsuki barked, though there was an unmistakable, embarrassed edge to his voice. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Denki wasn’t backing down, though. “Oooooh, looks like the big guy’s shy now!” he teased, clearly loving the situation.

“Shut it, stupid,” Katsuki snarled, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of fondness behind his irritation.

You could feel Katsuki’s heartbeat beneath your palm, still racing, as you pressed your lips to his cheek, giving him a soft kiss to reassure him. He huffed but relaxed just a little at the touch, clearly more annoyed at being caught than truly embarrassed.

“Stop staring at us, you perverts,” you called out, though your voice was tinged with laughter. “You’re gonna ruin the moment!”

Mina stuck out her tongue and waved dramatically. “We’re not the ones ruining it,” she teased, her hands still framing her face as she fluttered her lashes at you both. Kirishima gave another hearty laugh. “Hey, don’t worry, man, you two have been together forever, you deserve all the ‘aww’s’!” He threw Katsuki another heart, making the other man growl under his breath.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” you said with a smile, gently pulling away from Katsuki, though his arms tightened around you, not quite ready to let go.

The others backed away from the window, still waving and making kissy faces at you, leaving you and Katsuki in your little bubble of quiet tension. His hands finally released their hold on your waist, but his fingers lingered for a second, as if unwilling to fully let go. You turned to him with a grin, brushing your lips against his jaw.

“Home now?” you teased, voice full of warmth and amusement, feeling that familiar pull between you both, even with the entire world watching.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you one last time before you both settled into the car, determined to leave behind the embarrassment and bask in your shared warmth.

—

"Well, that’s how it would've gone if you hadn’t lied and basically stranded me at the salon while you were grocery shopping," you say, shaking your head slightly. "And picking up cute sweaters, thinking you'd surprise me, but you know—"

Katsuki frowns, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly not understanding the full depth of your reasoning. "What, you steal my stuff because it’s your duty now? What the hell kinda logic is that?"

You give a playful shrug. "Yeah, pretty much. It's literally my job now as your wife to steal your clothes, and I can only give them back when they no longer smell like you."

You finish rubbing lotion onto your legs and arms, your movements slow and deliberate as you prepare for bed, the soft scent of the lotion mixing with the lingering fragrance of the shower. Katsuki’s eyes are locked on you, studying every motion with an intensity that almost feels like a heatwave in the room. After a beat of silence, he tilts his head slightly, as if trying to gauge whether you're serious or messing with him. 

He doesn’t quite seem convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stares at you with that familiar intensity, his gaze flickering as you move around the room. Then, without missing a beat, he breaks the silence with a casual, 

“Wanna get sweaty together?”

The words hang in the air for a moment, his deep voice making your heart skip. You freeze for a split second as you carefully wrap your hair in the silk scarf, the cool material sliding over your fingers as you look at him through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the playful glint in his gaze, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Sweaty? I— Oh!" The heat that suddenly swirled in your lower stomach caught you off guard, the warmth curling low as his smile turned sharp, wicked even. You could feel his gaze on you from the bed, intense, like he was savoring the tension in the air.Katsuki shifted on the bed, his voice held a teasing edge when he spoke again, every word dripping with intent, 

"I saw what you did to my microwave, you little shit."

Your stomach flipped as your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t even need to ask what he meant. You knew exactly what he was referring to. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze in the mirror. 

What were you supposed to say?! There was no point in trying to justify it. 

You did smear syrup all over the microwave.

Knowing it would work your clean freak husband up. 

But before you could even process a response, your feet were already moving before your brain could catch up.

You threw yourself out of the vanity chair, your body a blur of action. You didn’t even glance at him as you bolted for the door, the room instantly filled with the sound of your hurried steps echoing through the hallway. The soft padding of your bunny slippers barely made a sound, but your heart was thundering in your chest as you dashed past the hallway, dodging furniture and glancing back over your shoulder.

Katsuki’s laughter, low and knowing, rumbled from behind you, the sound growing louder as his footsteps followed close behind. He was coming for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You could hear the shift in his tone—hungry, playful, and definitely too cocky for your liking. 

He was enjoying this, you realized.

‘Think fast, think fast!’ You glanced wildly around, and then, on instinct, you jumped. You sailed over the stair railing, landing with a soft thud on the other side. The movement was fluid, practiced, but the rush of adrenaline made it feel like the world had slowed down. The next few seconds were a blur of frantic footfalls and the sound of your breath catching in your chest.

You didn’t have time to scream or laugh—it was all pure instinct now as you dashed through the house. 

Every step was a race against him. You darted from one room to the next, flipping on every light you could reach, as if trying to outsmart him with a maze of illumination. You tried to drown out the sound of his voice, calling out to you, teasing you.

"Where’d you go, huh? You think you can run from me?" Katsuki’s voice bounced off the walls, deep and full of that teasing edge. His footsteps were much closer now.

You couldn’t let him catch you just yet, not while you still had a chance. The house felt too large, yet too small, and you knew the only way to stay out of his grasp was to stay one step ahead. You could hear him, but he hadn’t quite found you yet.

With a quiet gasp, you pressed yourself against the wall, slipping into the narrow space between the large sectional and the wall. 

The living room was eerily silent now, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the slight rustling of your robe. You held your breath, eyes darting from the shadows of the room to the hallway beyond. 

‘Stay quiet, stay still, don’t even fucking breathe’ you told yourself, the anticipation thick in the air.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat loud enough that you thought he might hear it, but then you heard it—the subtle sound of his footsteps, faint at first, but growing louder as he circled the room.

"You think you can hide from me, huh?" Katsuki’s voice was low, predatory, and full of amusement. 

"I’m gonna find you, little bunny. There’s nowhere you can hide."

You felt the hairs on your neck stand up as the anticipation crept into your veins. He was so close. You could practically feel him, his energy filling the space, even if you couldn’t see him. His presence was like a heat wave moving through the room.

And then it happened.

A loud thud, and the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight. His voice, sharper now, echoed in the space. "I know you're here, damn it. Don’t make me come get you."

You tensed, knowing your time was running out. He was near, but you had one more move left. You didn’t wait. You took the chance. You shot out from your hiding place, darting for the sliding door before he could reach you.

But it was too late.

With a speed that seemed to defy logic, Katsuki was on you in seconds. His large hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You gasped in surprise, your heart racing as you felt the heat of his body press against your back.

“Yer gonna have to do better than that,” he growled in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

With his other hand, he pulled you roughly into his chest, his muscles flexing with the effort as he forced you into his embrace. You could feel his heart beating just as wildly as yours, and despite the playful teasing, there was a fire in his touch that made your pulse quicken.

Katsuki’s lips pressed to the side of your neck, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur. “You can’t outrun me, babe. Now... what’s this about dirtying my stuff?”

“You didn’t even want the microwave!”

The two ‘love taps’ on your ass that followed told you that wasn't the point.  

You swallowed, feeling the playful, mischievous tension shift into something much more intense. You could feel the smirk against his skin, his chest still rumbling with amusement. He wasn’t going to let this go easily.

"I guess you’ve caught me," you murmured, your voice breathless. "But you still haven’t figured out what you’re gonna do about it, have you?"

His response was a low, satisfied chuckle, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. "Oh, I’ve got a few ideas," he murmured darkly, and just like that, you knew this game was far from over.

The tension in the air shifted once more, as Katsuki grabbed your waist as you tried to dart past him, guiding you toward the kitchen with a firm hand ont he small of your back. His grip was strong, commanding, as he led you to the microwave.

"Get to work," he grumbled, his voice low and filled with that same playful authority. The mess you’d made—smeared syrup on the microwave—was now your responsibility to clean up. You could see his smirk from the corner of your eye, clearly enjoying the little game he'd forced you into.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting as you grabbed a rag from the counter and began wiping the sticky mess away. It wasn't exactly what you'd had in mind for a fun evening. You sighed dramatically, your body language exaggerated as you huffed.

"This wasn’t what I had in mind, you know," you muttered under your breath, clearly disappointed.

Katsuki glanced up from the apple he was casually biting into, his deep eyes locking onto yours as his lips curled into a teasing smile. "What did you have in mind?" His voice held that same playful edge, but there was something beneath it—a hint of satisfaction in knowing that you'd been caught, and he was making you work for it.

You scowled, wanting to retort, but all you could do was finish the job, swiping the last of the syrup away with a little more force than necessary. Katsuki’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the heat of his attention despite his nonchalant chewing. He enjoyed this too much—seeing you all riled up and a little annoyed. You could tell by the stupid sexy small grin playing on his lips.

Finally, when the job was done, you straightened up, wiping your hands on your robe. Katsuki pushed off the counter and walked past you, his voice casual as he asked, "You ready for bed now?"

The suggestion of rest was tempting, but you weren't done with him just yet. You rubbed your hands together slowly, grinning mischievously inside as you felt the heat rise between you again. Katsuki turned to face you, already half-expecting something more, but his brow furrowed when he noticed the way you were acting.

"Is the house too cold for you?" he asked, the softness in his voice indicating he was already thinking of ways to keep you comfortable. "I’ll turn up the heat."

But before he could even take another step toward the thermostat, your hand darted out, warm and quick. 

The palm of your hand landed with a firm smack against his ass cheek, the impact loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Katsuki froze, his eyes narrowing in shock, but before he could fully process it, you did it again. A quick, sharp tap to the other cheek—once, then twice—your hand connecting with his firm, muscular backside.

He whipped around, his eyes flashing with the same fiery intensity you knew so well. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, a growl barely concealed beneath the words, and his chest rose and fell with a deep breath, clearly trying to control the surge of heat that ran through him.

But before he could respond or chase you, you darted away, sprinting down the hallway with your heart racing. The adrenaline from the earlier chase was still pumping in your veins, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, knowing that you were in for it now. You could already feel the change in him—a shift from playful to downright determined, and that meant trouble for you.

His voice, sharp and commanding, followed you as you ran through the house. 

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!" 

There was no sweetness in his words anymore, just the promise of payback, and you knew he meant it.

You could feel it before you even reached the hallway corner—the heavy thuds of his footsteps as he chased after you. He was pissed, but there was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you couldn’t stop the thrill of it all. You were playing with fire, and Katsuki was more than ready to burn.

The panic you felt as you scrambled into the prep kitchen and opened the pantry was only tempered by the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You threw the door closed behind you with a soft, but hurried click, and you quickly scaled the shelves, barely keeping your balance as you shoved yourself into the corner. It was dark, cramped, and smelled faintly of spices, but it was perfect for hiding—for now, at least.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, biting back the urge to laugh at your own antics. Playing this game with Katsuki was dangerous, and you knew it. But what could you say? You were addicted to the thrill, to the way you could tap dance on his nerves like this, driving him crazy. It was a game, one you both knew well, and hell, you’d earned it. As his wife, it was practically your constitutional right to rile him up a little.

Your eyes darted around the small, dark pantry, and your breath slowed as you listened carefully for any sound of Katsuki. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, you heard the echoing crackle of something in the distance, the unmistakable sound of soft explosions. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what it was—Katsuki was out there, his quirk flaring. You barely had time to register the thought before you saw a faint glow from under the pantry door, the light from his explosions spilling in through the cracks as he tested the area.

For a moment, the kitchen went eerily silent. The door swung open, just enough to let in more light, and you could hear his heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate. He wasn’t using his quirk anymore, but his presence was palpable, a tension in the air you could practically taste.Eventually, the door closed again, but you didn’t hear any footsteps leading away. 

You swallowed, holding your breath, wondering if he was waiting for you to give yourself away. What if he was just outside the door, waiting for you to slip up? The thought made your pulse race again, and you crouched down lower, hoping to stay hidden just a little longer. The quiet was agonizing as you waited, counting each second, your heart thudding in your ears.

Gently, you climbed back down from your spot and tiptoed to the center of the pantry doors. You couldn’t see any feet from under the door and when you peaked through the crack, no one was there. Even the door to the prep kitchen was close, moonlight streaming in from the window. 

Then, just as you began to relax, a shiver ran up your spine, and you swore you could feel him looking at you, his gaze burning through the air. It was a wild thought, but your instincts told you it was true. You hadn’t heard him move, but you felt it—the knowing presence of Katsuki, so close yet so far. You froze, barely daring to move as you waited for him to make his next move.

And then it came.

A soft whisper, just behind your ear, as warm lips brushed against your ear. 

"Is he gone yet?"

Your breath hitched, and you barely stifled a scream. 

He had been right there the whole time, lying in wait, ready to strike. You gasped and immediately bolted, stumbling out of your hiding spot as you tore down the pantry shelves, your heart pounding. 

"Katsuki!" you screamed, the sound of your voice only fueling the chase. 

He tricked you! 

And now, you were going to pay for it.

You ran back into the kitchen, your legs moving faster than they should have, but you weren’t about to let him win. You spun around the counter, ducking and dodging as you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps closing in behind you. Katsuki was hot on your heels, laughing darkly as he taunted, 

"You're not gonna outrun me, sweetheart!"

Your heart was racing as you darted around the kitchen, taking sharp corners and swerving around the island. It felt like an endless game of 'ring around the rosie'—only you were the one spinning in circles, desperate to keep your distance while Katsuki's laughter echoed all around you. The kitchen, your familiar battleground, was now your prison, and he was closing in.

Desperation filled you, and in a moment of inspiration (or maybe pure panic), you grabbed the nearest fruit basket. You swung it at him with all the force you could muster, and it hit him square in the chest, sending apples and oranges scattering across the floor. He paused for a moment, surprised by your impromptu attack, but the shock didn’t last long. A smirk spread across his face as he shook his head and turned back toward you.

“Nice try,” he growled, already moving after you again.

You shrieked and turned on your heel, racing toward the hallway. The next place to hide? You didn’t know yet, but you weren’t about to make it easy for him. You heard his footsteps pounding after you, his growls of annoyance growing louder with each step.

"Leave me alone!" you shouted, looking for any way to escape. "You're impossible!"

You dart into the home movie theater, your feet skidding slightly on the smooth hardwood floors as you crouch low between the rows of seats, hoping to lose Katsuki in the dimness of the room. The large space feels like a maze of plush chairs and hidden corners, perfect for slipping away unnoticed. Your pulse is pounding in your ears as you press your back to one of the seats, holding your breath, trying to calm the frantic energy running through you.

For a moment, all is silent, the only sound the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Then, without warning, the room is flooded with light as the giant movie screen flickers to life. You jerk your head up in alarm to see Katsuki standing at the front of the room, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

He’s leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a predator waiting for its prey to make a mistake. The screen behind him casts a glow, making his features look sharp and dangerous—his vermillion eyes twinkling with amusement.

“You can’t hide forever, princess,” he calls out in a sing-song voice, and your stomach flutters in that wicked, dangerous way that only he can manage. It’s almost scary how much his presence affects you, but you can't stop the heat rising in your body as you feel his gaze locking onto you.

You throw the remote at him in a frantic attempt to distract him, and it hits him square in the chest. He chuckles darkly and catches it mid-air, his eyes still never leaving yours as he steps toward you. “Nice try,” he mocks, his voice low, full of dangerous amusement. 

“But you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

Before you can react, you turn and bolt out of the theater, running as fast as your legs can carry you. His footsteps echo behind you, the sound of him chasing you growing closer and closer. 

“Why don’t you wanna be a good wife, huh?” 

His voice rings out, teasing and laced with that underlying heat that makes your skin tingle. 

“Come over here so I can show you just how much of a bad girl you’re being.”

You let out a squeal of laughter and fear, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about how relentless he is, how playful yet serious, that makes you feel like a mixture of excitement and nervousness all at once. It’s almost overwhelming, the way his words make your heart do summer saults.

In your panic, you dart into the gaming room, thinking you can slip past him in the narrow space between the arcade machines and shelves of consoles. But the moment you step into the room, you realize your mistake. You’ve backed yourself into a corner, and you can already feel his presence behind you, drawing closer.

A low growl of frustration escapes his throat. 

“Really? You think this is gonna save you?” he grumbles, his voice rich with amusement as he stalks toward you, closing the gap faster than you can react. You try to dash around one of the desks, but he’s already there, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back with a force that leaves you breathless.

Before you know it, you’re pressed against the cool surface of a console, the light from the television screen casting strange shadows over your bodies. Katsuki’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as his eyes burn with that teasing, wicked glint.

“Gotcha,” he growls softly, his lips curling into a smile that’s anything but sweet. You feel a surge of heat rush to your cheeks as you fight to catch your breath, the rush of adrenaline still pumping through you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says with a mock sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek. “Otherwise, I’d just let you keep running.”

But you’re trapped now, nowhere to go but back into his arms as he pulls you closer, his grip firm but playful. The game has changed, and you can feel it in every heated second that passes between you two.

You feel a mischievous spark flicker in your chest, a playful impulse bubbling up as you glance at Katsuki. Thinking quickly, you decide to act on your not-so-good thoughts and fake a cough, knowing full well that he wouldn’t deny you something as simple as water.

You cover your face against his shoulder, a dramatic cough escaping your lips, each one exaggerated and “delicate” as you turn to him, trying your best to sound like you're struggling without actually being in distress. You hold the coughs in just long enough to make it sound convincing, then pull back just slightly to give him a soft, pleading look.

“Kat,” you manage to whisper, your voice intentionally weak as you try to act as demure as possible while clearly playing him. “Could you get me some water? Please?”

His gaze softens for a moment, the protective instinct flaring up in him as he reaches over without a second thought, clearly not seeing the slight mischief in your eyes. His hand brushes your hair away from your face gently

As soon as the cough escapes your lips, you can see the flicker of concern flash across Katsuki's face. His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't call you out. He knows you too well to fall for a typical trick, but when you fake a few more delicate coughs, turning your face into his shoulder and pretending to weakly gasp for air, he seems to soften. His scowl deepens, but he’s already scanning you, making sure you're actually okay.

"Kami, you're really something else," he mutters under his breath, but there's no bite in his tone. Instead, it's replaced with a reluctant tenderness as he hoists you up into his arms with ease, just like he’s done so many times before. The moment your body presses against his chest, you feel the warmth of him radiate through your own clothes, and you can’t help but smile, knowing you’re getting exactly what you wanted.

He carries you into the kitchen with a determined stride, like he’s on a mission. You’re basically cradled against him, the motion smooth but with that underlying power that only Katsuki can bring. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the way he smells, the comfort of his presence making everything feel secure, even if you were the one to initiate this little ruse.

Once he sets you on the kitchen counter, it’s all business. 

He turns around, reaching for the fridge and pulling out a ice cold water bottle, which he hands to you with a soft, "Here." His expression is serious now, a slight frown still lingering on his face, though it’s softened by the concern he can't hide entirely.

"Thank you," you murmur sweetly, taking the bottle and uncapping it with a soft twist. You sip from it generously, enjoying the coolness of the water that soothes your throat. All the while, you notice his gaze never leaves you, a little too intense for casual observation. The way he looks at you, like you're both an annoyance and a treasure, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you take another sip, Katsuki silently starts picking up the apples and oranges you’d thrown at him earlier. The way his muscular arms move, the tension in his back and shoulders as he bends down and reaches for the fallen fruit, has your thoughts wandering. For a split second, you can’t help but compare him to Jason, imagining what it would be like if Katsuki were to flex those powerful muscles with the same intent—though you know that Katsuki would never harm you.

He stands there, staring at you with his hands resting firmly on the counter. 

The muscles in his forearms flex as he leans in slightly, clearly waiting for you to acknowledge him. But it’s the way his eyes lock onto you, his expression serious but not without a hint of that playful edge that makes your heart beat faster. He stands so close, the heat of his body radiating toward you, and you almost swear you can feel the smoldering energy between you two, even without touching.

You take another sip of the water, but this time your gaze meets his, and you can't help but smirk. "You look good like that," you tease, unable to resist the playful glint in your own eyes as your gaze roams over him, savoring the way his muscles move with every action, every twitch of his body. It’s almost as if you’re daring him to take the next step.

Katsuki smirks back, his eyes darkening slightly. "You think you're so cute, don't you?" His voice is low, the undertone of desire thick enough for you to feel it in your bones.

But you're not done yet.

"You know, I am," you reply coyly, swinging your legs slightly on the counter, letting your robe ride up just a little. You watch the way his eyes flicker to your legs, the change in his expression that makes your stomach twist in excitement.

Katsuki clears his throat and leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he growls, "You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart." He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, his vermilion eyes smoldering with a mix of amusement and desire. 

"You better be ready for the consequences."

And just like that, you know this little game of yours has taken a sharp turn. The air is thick with tension now, each second passing like an electric pulse between you both. But you’re not backing down. 

Not this time.

You seize the water bottle, chucking it at your husband again as his eyes narrow and he hits the ground in time, your pulse quickening as you dart off the counter and up the stairs, hoping your lucky stars are shining brightly tonight. The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. ‘

"Oi, you little brat, don’t think you’re getting away that easily," his voice growls, a mix of exasperation and amusement lacing his words. "I swear to god, when I get my hands on you—"

The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches the corners of the room, and with a quick glance around, you make a beeline for the space under the bed. You slide underneath, curling into a tight ball, trying to control your breathing as your pulse continues to throb in your ears. You’re nearly holding your breath now, hoping that the darkness of the room and the soft carpet will hide you long enough for him to give up the search.

‘He’s not chasing me,’ you think, laughing under your breath as you curl up into a tight ball, barely able to contain your giggles. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches you as you stay perfectly still, heart racing with excitement.

The silence stretches, just as you're starting to think you might actually get away with it, but then—crackle—the intercom crackles to life. Katsuki’s voice filters through, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is dark and heavy with intent, cutting through the quiet of the house like a razor.

"Okay, little girl, have it your way," he growls, the sound of his explosions echoing faintly in the background, a sign that he’s still searching. "If you can hide for another 10 minutes without pulling any of your dirty tricks, the rest of the night can go your way."

You pause, the breath you’d been holding catching in your throat as you listen more intently. 

You don’t dare make a sound, your body tense beneath the bed, the room feeling colder as the challenge sets in. Katsuki’s words ring through your mind, and you can almost see the smirk on his face, even though you’re hidden in the shadows.

Then, the briefest of pauses. You could hear his explosions falter as if he was waiting for your response, but you stay still. His next words are low, full of weight, and deliberate as they slide from his mouth.

"If I win..." He drags it out, just enough to keep you on edge. 

"You’ll be my slave. Your choice."

Your stomach flutters with both anxiety and excitement, your pulse spiking at the dangerous proposition. 

Slave—his word lingers in your mind, and despite the heavy weight of it, there’s an undeniable thrill in the challenge he’s laying before you. The heat rises in your cheeks as you realize what’s at stake.

Another pause, and then his voice filters through again, darker this time, as though the stakes are raised even higher. "I’ll give you five minutes to come back and apologize. Otherwise..." His voice lowers to a growl, the chill of it making your spine straighten. 

"You better hope I don’t find you, princess."

Your breath hitches, the finality in his words sending a shiver through you. Every muscle tenses as you lie there, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the silence of the room. The space underneath the bed suddenly feels even tighter, as though the weight of his promise is closing in on you.

You’re caught between two choices—stay hidden and push your luck, or face him and risk the consequences. Your hands grip the floor beneath you, the texture of the carpet digging into your fingers as you think, weighing the choices, feeling the pressure of every second ticking by.

“BOOM!”

Something gets knocked over somewhere down the hall, and it stops your heart. You strain your ears and catch a noise. It’s Katsuki, his voice low but unmistakably annoyed, filtering through the walls.

You can hear the smirk in his tone, the barely restrained menace, and it sends a thrill straight through you. You feel a rush of adrenaline as the challenge settles into your chest. ‘A slave, huh?’ The thought makes you bite your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. 

But you can’t let him know you’re enjoying this.

You curl further beneath the bed, trying to keep as still as possible, your body pressing against the cool floorboards as you listen intently to his voice. His words ring in your ears, an irresistible mix of dominance and playfulness. You can practically feel the heat of his glare from here, even though you’re tucked away in your hiding spot.

“Ten minutes, huh?” you whisper to yourself, still not daring to move an inch. “Guess I better make this count.”

You hold your breath, willing yourself to stay silent, as you hear his footsteps grow closer. It’s eerily quiet for a moment, and then—footsteps, loud and deliberate—Katsuki’s on the move. He’s clearly taking his time, perhaps savoring this moment, knowing that you're somewhere just out of reach. His footsteps stop right outside the door to the guest bedroom.

“I'm coming for you, princess,” he calls through the door, voice low and menacing. 

"Seven minutes... Time’s ticking."

You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear the quickening of your pulse. You can hear him walking around, at a deliberate pace, as if he's trying to cover every inch of the house. He's playing this game with the same ferocity he brings to everything—no hesitation, no mercy.

Your eyes flicker to the clock on the nightstand. Time’s slipping away, and you can practically feel the heat of his presence outside the room, waiting for you to make a move.

His voice suddenly filters through again, but this time, it’s even more teasing, drawing you in like a magnet. "I hope you know, I’m gonna find you. You’re not getting away with this, bunny."

Your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s close, and the clock is ticking down. 

You have to make a decision—will you continue hiding, hoping your luck will hold, or will you face him and take what’s coming? Either way, you're in this now, and the thrill of the chase is too intoxicating to back out of.

You wait for another few seconds, then slowly, carefully, you begin to crawl out from under the bed. The floor creaks beneath you, but you ignore it, moving as silently as you can toward the door. You hear his footsteps again, and they’re louder now, meaning he’s getting closer.

You quickly slip out of the guest bedroom and dart down the hallway, trying to keep your steps light. The adrenaline courses through you, and you feel a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to make him chase you a little longer.

But suddenly, just as you round the corner, you stop. 

You press yourself into the wall, holding your breath.

His voice rings out from down the hall, low and rough. "I'm getting close, little girl. I can feel you. You’re not gonna hide much longer." The challenge has shifted. The ball is in your court now. You might just be able to outsmart him... or you might end up surrendering to his demand, not knowing which would be more satisfying.

Your pulse races as you slip through the room, making your way back to the shared bedroom, your footsteps light but hurried. The house feels bigger now, emptier, as if the space is closing in on you.

Once you reach the door, you pause, a brief moment of hesitation before you push it open, slipping inside. 

The familiar scent of the room—of Katsuki, of home—wraps around you like a comforting blanket, but tonight, there’s no time for comfort.

You quickly climb into the bed, burying yourself beneath the thick comforter, the soft fluff of pillows surrounding you like a fortress. You pull the blankets tight around your body, cocooning yourself under layers, your body hidden from view. For a moment, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the game, the thrill not yet over.

You glance at the clock, counting down the minutes in your head. You can feel it—the frantic pace of the house around you, the subtle pressure building as the time slips away. ‘At least three more minutes,’ you think, your breath steadying as you listen to the muffled sounds of movement downstairs.

But then, suddenly, it all stops. 

The noise, the footsteps, the low muttering of Katsuki’s voice—all of it vanishes. 

A dead silence fills the air, so complete that it almost feels like the house has emptied, the stillness pressing in on you. You hold your breath, eyes wide in the darkness beneath the covers, your mind racing as you try to process the sudden absence of sound.

Had he given up? Or was this part of his plan? 

The unknown lingers in the air like a thick fog, and you lie there, still, not daring to move, every muscle tensed. You can’t tell if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake, or if he’s biding his time for something else.

The quiet stretches on, and it feels heavier now, as though Katsuki is just outside, watching, waiting.

You stay as still as possible, your heart pounding so loudly you swear it might give you away. Every inch of your body is frozen in place, breath shallow as you try to listen for any sign of movement, any clue as to what Katsuki is doing.

Then, out of nowhere, you feel it.

Arms wrap around you suddenly, pulling you into a firm hold. Your heart leaps in your throat as you gasp, the air squeezed out of you in an instant. A hand presses firmly over your mouth, stifling any sound that might escape, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. The pressure of his hold leaves no room for escape, your body effectively trapped against his, pressed up against the hard muscles of his body.

You stiffen, but the strength of his grip is unmistakable. The hand on your waist pulls you even closer, locking you in place, and you can feel every rigid line of his body against you. His warmth, the familiar scent of him—it all envelops you, but it only makes the tension sharper, the reality of your situation crashing down.

Katsuki’s body is solid behind you, his breathing steady but low, as though he’s been waiting for this moment, patient and calculating. You can feel his  strength, that palpable aura of control he always carries, and the way his muscles tense beneath your back as he holds you firmly in place.

For a long moment, neither of you move. 

The stillness between you two is thick, broken only by the ragged beat of your heart in your chest. He hasn’t said a word yet, but the way his grip tightens slightly, possessive and unyielding, tells you everything you need to know. He’s won this round, and he’s not letting go anytime soon.

"Did you really think you could hide from me that easily?" His voice comes low, a hiss vibrating through the air, right next to your ear. It’s a whisper, but it feels like a command, and the way his breath brushes against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

You remain motionless, your mind spinning as you try to process what comes next. 

Katsuki’s grip around you tightens, but instead of the usual sharp dominance, there’s a surprising gentleness to it. His hand on your mouth lifts ever so slightly, his thumb brushing your lips in the softest of motions. For a moment, you’re left breathless, caught between confusion and something more electric that stirs under your skin.

You remain still, heart hammering in your chest, as you feel him pull you even closer, his chest pressing harder against your back. His breath is warm against your ear, and then—unexpectedly—his lips brush against your skin. The kiss is feather-light at first, a tentative press of his lips against your temple, as though testing something, gauging your reaction.

You freeze, the sensation catching you off guard. His lips are soft, too soft for the fierce, fiery hero you know him to be. It’s a contrast you’re not used to, and it disorients you. The kiss lingers for a moment before he pulls back slightly, but only enough to whisper in your ear.

"Don’t move," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, as if speaking to someone fragile. His hands move then, his fingers trailing softly down your mouth, a stark contrast to his usual forceful touch. They’re gentle, almost reverent, as if you were something delicate in his grasp.

You feel the faintest press of his lips again, this time on your neck, where his breath sends a wave of warmth across your skin. His lips trail lower, his kisses soft and careful, almost as though he’s rememorizing the shape of you, the way your body responds to his touch.

Your mind races, trying to process the tenderness, the way his hands glide over your body with such care. 

He’s checking you, almost methodically, like he’s making sure you’re okay, as if this entire moment is more about keeping you safe than playing any kind of game. It’s bewildering, disorienting, and just as you’re about to say something, you realize—it’s not just your arms and neck that he’s gently caressing.

He’s checking every inch of you, his hands roaming down your body with a soft, almost protective touch. When his fingers reach your ankles, you flinch slightly, but he’s too gentle, too careful. He slides your slippers off one by one, his movements so fluid you almost don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. He continues his exploration, his hands inching up to your legs, your sides, his lips grazing across your skin as he checks every part of you.

But then you feel it—your robe, the one you’d been wearing only moments ago—is gone. It’s not just slipped off, it’s completely vanished, and the realization hits you like a cold wave. ‘When did he…?’ You don’t even remember him removing it.

Panic surges for a fleeting moment, but the overwhelming gentleness of his touch leaves you frozen in place. The confusion only deepens as you feel him inspect you, feeling each shift and breath of your body, as if making sure everything is just right. His hands linger for a moment on your hips, giving a soft squeeze, before sliding back up your torso, every movement deliberate but tender.

His lips press another kiss to the side of your neck, and this time, there’s an almost loving quality to it—soft and warm, like a promise or reassurance. You finally manage to gather your thoughts, your voice barely a whisper when you ask, 

"Katsuki… What are you doing?"

His hands freeze on your skin for a brief moment, and you can almost feel the pause in him, the weight of your question. He pulls away slightly, enough to look at you, but his hands never leave your body. His gaze meets yours, and the softness in his eyes contrasts with the fierce intensity you’re used to.

“ ’m making sure you’re okay,” he answers, voice still gentle, but it carries a seriousness to it. 

You swallow hard, the conflicting sensations in your chest only growing. His usual fiery nature is subdued now, replaced by something softer, something you’ve never seen from him. His fingers run softly over the edge of your collarbone, a silent question hanging between you both.

And then it clicks—the tenderness, the way he’s inspecting every inch of you, the robe and slippers that vanished without you even noticing. He’s not just searching for a game to win anymore. This is something different, something deeper, and you're left unsure if you should be relieved or even more confused than before.

"Turn this way for me, Peaches."

And that’s when it hits you.

Your blood ran cold. Katsuki never, ever called you Peaches in a normal context. It was a nickname reserved for moments right before things got… nasty. The kind of nasty that involved a lot of heated touches and breathless whimpers. Your muscles seized, a full-body freeze that left you rigid as a statue. All the exhaustion from the gaming session vanished, replaced by a shy, anticipatory buzz that thrummed beneath your skin.

Your mind scrambled, trying to piece together the last few minutes.

When you didn't move, his frustration was palpable, even if it was masked by a layer of concern you couldn't quite place. He reached out, not violently, but with a surprising gentleness in his grip, his calloused fingers curving around your upper arm and turning you towards him. His touch sent a jolt that unthawed your frozen limbs.

His brow was furrowed slightly as he scanned me, his gaze lingering on your shoulders, your arms, your ribcage. The intensity in his eyes wasn't lustful, not yet— it was searching, concerned.

"You didn't hit the floor too hard, did you?" he finally asked, the gruffness in his voice softer than usual. "I saw you stumble." Your breath hitched. ‘You’ve been worried about me?’ You hadn't even noticed. Your mind had been so focused on the teasing nickname and its implications that I’d completely missed the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I… I'm fine," You stammered, the tension slowly releasing its grip, though a different kind of nervous anticipation still simmered within.

Katsuki didn't seem fully convinced, his crimson eyes narrowing as he continued to assess you with that sharp focus. Then, he did something unexpected. He reached out again, but this time, his hands didn't just grip your arms. They slid down your forearms, to my wrists, and then to your hands. He took them in his, his own calloused fingers engulfing your much smaller ones.

The warmth of his skin seared through the thin fabric of your flesh. It was a small gesture, but the intimacy of it sent a different kind of shiver down your spine this time. It was a shiver of warmth, of comfort, and a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, Peaches could mean different things in different contexts, and Katsuki was far more simple than you gave him credit for.

The tension in the room is thick as Katsuki’s lips near, his body heat radiating from the shadows like a controlled storm. The moonlight spills softly through the balcony doors, casting gentle beams across the floor and bed, painting everything in silvery hues. The only other light comes from the low, moody glow of your vanity, creating a calm contrast to the intensity of his presence. His face stop right in front of you, but you keep your eyes closed, pretending to remain focused on your own breathing.

"Yer not foolin’ me, Peach," Katsuki growls softly, his voice warm with amusement. He dips down in front of you, just within reach. His hand slides slowly up your calf, brushing against your smooth skin, sending a ripple of electricity through your body. His fingers gently graze your legs, rubbing them tenderly as though savoring the feel of them under his touch.

"Ya know," he says, his tone low, "’m gonna learn how to do nails." He pauses, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your inner thigh as he leans in, soft lips brushing against the tender skin of your knee. 

“That way, ya never have ta go back to that damn salon with that shithead.”

His lips leave a gentle kiss on your knee before resting his warm cheek against it, eyes narrowing as he meets your gaze with that sharp, intense look of his. 

“You’re my wife now,” he murmurs, almost as if it’s a promise. 

“I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

You let out a soft breath, the heat rising in your chest as his words sink in. There’s something about the way he’s holding you, not just physically but emotionally, that makes your heart race. Katsuki is possessive, protective, and you can feel it in every inch of his touch, every word he speaks.

His hands gently grip your legs as his lips travel slowly up, kissing his way higher and higher, each kiss deliberate and full of affection. Your eyes flutter open as his warm breath fans across your skin, a chill running through you only to be quickly washed away by his heat. He pauses for a moment when he reaches your knees, his lips brushing softly against the skin there before his voice rumbles out again, teasing, yet affectionate.

“‘s the matter, Peaches?”

"We both have work tomorrow," you murmur, the words almost slipping out before you can catch them. “We can’t—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to the top of your knee, lingering there just a little longer than necessary. "I own the agency with you, babe," he says against your skin, his breath hot and soothing, sending a tremor through your body. 

"I can make arrangements. I’ll always make arrangements for you."

Your body shivers under his touch, a mix of excitement and anticipation building with every passing second. His kisses are relentless, moving up your legs, up your thighs, and over the soft curve of your hips and stomach as he inches closer to your lips.

A small laugh escapes you, but it’s laced with affection and playfulness. "It’s gonna be cold tonight," you say, voice barely above a whisper. He grins against your breastbone, the corners of his lips curling upward. 

"I’ll warm you up," he promises. His lips are now against your voice box, trailing upward slowly, stopping just shy of your jawline as he waits for your next move. You hesitate for a moment, remembering your freshly blown out hair. 

"I just got my hair done..." you say softly, a small tinge of concern flicking across your thoughts.

Katsuki pauses, his movements stilling entirely as if he’s considering the possibility of ruining your new style. 

Then, without a word, he reaches up, his strong hands gently pulling the silk scarf from your head. Your hair spills around you like a fan, soft and flowing, a stunning contrast to the harshness of the world outside. He picks up a few strands of your blow-out, his fingers lightly running through them as his lips land on them, kissing the strands with a reverence that surprises you.

With a tender smile, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, the very roots of your hair, then moves down, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, nose, and finally stopping at your lips. His lips linger there for a second, his breath mingling with yours as he pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft, almost vulnerable.

“I know,” he murmurs, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, firm and warm, as he pours everything he feels into the kiss. You melt into him, hands finding their way into his hair as you pull him closer. The world outside fades away as he deepens the kiss, kissing you like he can’t get enough, like this moment is something precious he wants to keep forever.

And you let him.

Katsuki’s kiss deepens as you respond with equal fervor, your bodies pressed close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. His hands trail down your sides, gripping your waist and pulling you closer, his mouth moving hungrily against yours as though he’s starved for this closeness.

The soft fabric of your tanktop shifts under his touch as he tugs it down slightly, exposing your skin to the cool air, only for him to warm it up instantly with his hands. His lips leave yours reluctantly, his breath ragged as he moves down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin. His teeth graze the pulse point just below your ear, and you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of heat straight through your body.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Katsuki growls, his hands sliding up your back to unclasp the delicate straps of your bra. The motion is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. 

“Can’t believe yer all mine."

You shiver as the fabric of your bra falls away, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He kisses his way down your collarbone, his hands now skimming over your curves, feeling the heat of your body under his palms. He leans in, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mmm, yer so responsive," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your chest to tease the other nipple. He takes the now-hardened tip into his mouth, sucking gently as his hands trace shapes on your stomach and hips. His touch is electric, making you moan as you arch into him.

"Katsuki," you whimper, your head falling back against the bed. "You're killing me."

He chuckles darkly, flicking his tongue over the tight peak. "I haven't even started, Princess," he promises, moving to lick and nip his way lower.

Your breath hitches when his hands move lower, tracing the waistband of your booty shorts, fingers teasing the edge before sliding beneath them, his touch so light it sends a shock of pleasure through you.

Katsuki’s lips find yours again, the kiss urgent now, his tongue demanding as it moves with a fierce intensity. You can feel his pulse racing as your hands wander to his chest, your fingers sliding beneath his shirt to feel the heated muscle underneath.

His lips trail down once more, this time stopping just above the waistband of your little shorts. His eyes meet yours, burning with desire, before he presses another kiss to your stomach, his hands sliding down your legs to lift them over his shoulders.

"Is this what you want, baby?" Katsuki asks, his voice low and rough, filled with promise. His lips graze your inner thighs as he waits for your answer, teasing, giving you just enough space to feel the need intensify.

"Say it," he demands softly, his voice a seductive growl. "Tell me you want me."

“I want you.”

“Good girl.”

You let out a soft gasp as Katsuki's hands slide up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. With a quick tug, he pulls them down, exposing your lacy panties to his hungry gaze. He leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your clothed sex before pulling back with a smirk.

"Mmm, you're already so wet for me, aren't you?" he purrs, his fingers tracing the damp fabric. "I bet you've been thinking about this all night, haven't you? About what I'd do to you if I caught you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, biting your lip. Katsuki chuckles, low and deep, as he slowly slides your panties down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, your heart racing as he tosses them aside.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "So perfect, so fucking sexy. I'm going to make you regret running from me."

He leans down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand slides between your legs. His fingers tease your entrance, dipping in just slightly before pulling back.

"Beg for it," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," you whimper, arching into his touch. "Please, Katsuki, I need you. I need your cock inside me."

"That's my good girl," he praises, sliding two fingers deep inside your aching pussy. "Fuck, you're so tight. I can't wait to stretch you out on my cock."

He pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more, as he works you closer and closer to the edge. His hands slide underneath your body, pushing your legs further apart as he kneels between them. He takes a long look at your pussy, still wet from their earlier encounter, before leaning in and running his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, so tasty," he murmurs, lapping at your juices like a starving man. "I could drink you from here to the next life."

His tongue circles your clit, making you gasp and squirm. Katsuki chuckles, one hand reaching up to cup your breast as he continues his slow assault. His other hand slides between your legs, spreading your folds wider for better access.

"So fucking ready for me," he purrs, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub. " 'm going to make you regret being a brat."

And with that, he dives in, licking and sucking your throbbing clit as his thumb presses deep into your cunt. Your hips buck off the bed, desperate for more as your moans fill the room.

"Fuck, Katsuki," you cry out, arching into his touch. "Don't stop."

But he does, pulling away with a smirk. "Not this time," he says simply, standing up and tugging off his clothes.

How could you refuse that?

He's magnificent, his well-toned body glistening with sweat and covered in the evidence of your arousal. You trace your fingers over his chest, your breath catching as he sucks in a sharp breath.

His chiseled physique, a testament to countless hours of training, was on full display, each contour accentuated by the soft light. His skin glowed, a perfect canvas that drew your eyes to the powerful muscles flexing as he moved. He was a force of nature—fiery and captivating.

You couldn’t help but admire the way his tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing those sharp, penetrating eyes that held a mixture of confidence and mischief. He caught you staring, a smirk playing on his lips, the corners curling just enough to send a thrill down your spine.

"You like what you see?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

You nod eagerly, your fingers trailing down his abs and lower. Katsuki lets out a shaky breath, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. With a sultry smile, you lean back against the bed on all fours, every inch of you drawn towards him. 

“Just appreciating the view,” you replied, letting your voice drip with flirtation. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desires as he stepped forward, closing the distance.

“Yeah? Think you can handle all this?” he challenged, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. The heat of his body was intoxicating, igniting a fire deep within you. You could feel the power of him—bold, unyielding, yet protective.

“Only if you let me,” you whispered, your hands inches from his member, hearts racing in synchronized rhythm. But he holds you down. You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his strong grip holds you steady. 

"Not yet," he murmurs, his hands gripping your wrists. "Lemme enjoy this."

As the tension simmered in the air, Katsuki’s smirk turned playful yet wicked. In one swift motion, he reached around, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand connected with your ass, a sharp slap that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

“Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he chuckled, his voice low and teasing, clearly reveling in the reaction he’d provoked. The sting was both shocking and exhilarating, igniting a fiery rush of desire that pooled deep within you.

Before you could respond, he pulled you closer, flush against his yummy abs, his hands exploring the curves of your back with undeniable confidence. With a deft hand, he slipped beneath your left cheek, fingers brushing against your most sensitive spots. You gasped, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as he found the sweet spot between your folds that made your breath hitch.

Katsuki’s fingers moved with purpose, teasing and exploring, building a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure cascading through you. “Ya like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he worked his magic, pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your body responding to his every touch, a delicious mix of desire and lust coursing through your veins. “More,” you managed to gasp, craving every ounce of his attention.

The way he dominated the moment, fully in control yet so attuned to your needs, made your heart race. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, whispering promises of pleasure as his fingers continued their tantalizing dance.

"Peaches," he growls, his voice low and rough. "You haven't come for me yet."

He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, and you cry out. "Please, Katsuki," you beg, your body aching for his release. "Need it."

He laughs, a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. "You'll have it," he promises, "but first, you're going to feel me inside you."

You could feel every taut muscle of Katsuki’s abs pressed against you, his warmth enveloping you completely. The way he moved, fingers dancing expertly, sent shivers cascading down your spine and ignited a fire deep within you. Each thrust of his fingers felt like a direct connection to your very core, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Your hands roamed over his bare hips, tracing the rugged contours, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. The sensation of gripping him, holding onto the solid strength beneath your fingers, made your pulse race with excitement. You could sense the power he exuded, a blend of raw masculinity and confidence that only fueled your desire further.

As he continued to work his magic, you pressed your body closer into him, feeling the rhythm of his movements sync with the rapid beat of your heart. Each curl of his fingers coaxed delicious sounds from your lips, soft gasps and breathy moans that hung heavily in the air. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, the world around you fading away, leaving just the two of you in this electrifying moment.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent another surge of heat coursing through you. His breath was warm against your hair, adding to the intoxicating frenzy building inside you.

You could feel the tightening coil of pleasure building within, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. “Kats..,” you whimpered, unable to contain the need that bubbled within you. Your fingers dug deeper into his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going, to take you higher.

He responded with a fierce intensity, his fingers moving faster, deeper—each thrust igniting a new spark of ecstasy that left you gasping for more. The way he controlled the pace, teasing just enough while driving you wild, was maddeningly exquisite.

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that resonated in your very being. You surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure that washed over you, losing yourself in the blissful connection between your bodies. "That's it, baby," he coos, his lips trailing down to your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

His words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're boneless and spent.

"Fuck, that was cute," he growls, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to make you scream my name all night long."

He stands, quickly shedding the covers before grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. You look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes widening as you take in his massive cock.

"K-Katsuki," you breathe, your pussy already throbbing with need again. "Please..."

"Shh," he soothes, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds. "I've got you, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

And with that, he slams into you, filling you up in one hard thrust. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes.

"Yes, fuck!" you moan, pushing back against him. "Harder, Katsuki! Fuck me harder!"

He obliges, his hips snapping against your ass as he fucks you with wild abandon. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he groans, one hand reaching around to rub your clit. "So fucking tight and wet. You were made for my cock, weren't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, feeling another orgasm building already. "Only yours, ‘tsuki! I'm yours!"

"That's right, baby," he growls, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "This pussy belongs to me. Now come for me one more time. Milk my fucking cock." His words send you spiraling over the edge once more, and you scream his name as you come, your pussy spasming around him. Katsuki follows shortly after, burying himself deep as he fills you with his hot seed.

You both collapse onto the bed, panting and sweaty, as the aftershocks of pleasure fade away. Katsuki pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves. "But don't think we're done yet. I'm going to keep you up all night, making you pay for running from me."

You shiver at his words, already feeling the heat building in your core once more. With Katsuki, you know it's going to be a long, fucking night. You try to pull away, your arms trembling as Katsuki holds you in place. 

"N-no, please," you beg, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. "I can't take anymore. 'S so much."

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on your hips. "Too bad, Peach," he growls, his cock still buried deep inside you. "You're not going anywhere until I say so. And I'm far from done with this tight little pussy." He starts to move again, his thrusts slow and deep, as if he has all the time in the world. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his, even as your muscles protest.

"Fuck, look at you," Katsuki purrs, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulls your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. "So desperate for my cock, even when you're begging me to stop."

He bites down on your neck, marking you as his as he fucks you harder, faster. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"I'm going to ruin you," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never want anyone else. You’re all mine, mind, body and soul." 

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. "I want it..."

"That's it, baby," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "Beg for me. Beg me to fucking ruin you."

You do, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"W-what?" you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why did you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your stomach. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding home once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we're not done yet, Peaches. Not by a long shot."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— Katsuki above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. But as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back.

He's going to ruin you, just like he promised. 

And God help you, but you don't want it any other way.

Katsuki pulls away, leaving you cold and aching on the bed. He stands over you, his eyes dark with desire and something else— a hunger that makes your blood run hot.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "Running from me, teasing me all night. You need to be punished."

He reaches out, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed. You gasp, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he flips you over, bending you over his knee.

"Count," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack. "And if you stop, we start over." You cry out, your body jolting at the sudden impact. But you quickly remember yourself, gritting out a shaky, 

"One!"

Katsuki smacks your ass again, harder this time. You count off another, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. He spanks you over and over, each blow landing on a different spot until your entire ass is blushing and stinging.

"Please," you whimper, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts."

" 'S supposed to," Katsuki says simply, his hand rubbing circles on your sore flesh. "You need to learn your lesson, bunny. You're mine, and you don't get to run from me." He flips you over again, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart. You whine, trying to close your legs, but he's too strong.

"No," he growls, holding you open. "You don't get to hide from me. I want to see every inch of you."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your slit before diving in deep. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he eats you out like a man starved.

"F-Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he laps at your juices. "I could do this forever." He brings you to the edge, his tongue teasing your clit, before pulling back at the last second. You keen in frustration, your hands fisting in his hair.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "I wanna cum."

"Beg for it," Katsuki demands, his breath hot against your sex. "Beg me to let you cum on my tongue."

You do, your words tumbling out in a rush as you plead for release. Finally, mercifully, he grants it, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent.

But he's not done with you yet. He flips you over once more, his cock sliding in with one hard thrust. You cry out, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, as he starts to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "So tight and wet and perfect."

He fucks you hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand sliding up your spine to grip your hair. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice breathless with pleasure. "All yours, Katsuki."

"That's right," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "And I'm going to fucking own you. You'll never want anyone else, ever again."

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You whimper, your hands scrabbling at the sheets. 

"I can't...I can't take anymore!"

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tightening. "Oh, I think you can," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. "And you will. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, until the only thing you remember is my name." And with that, he starts to move faster, harder, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. His left hand finds your own and threads your fingers together before his thumb rubbing and pressing into that spot on your hand. Call you crazy for focusing on that, but it only adds to the crazy pleasure ringing out in your body. 

Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting. You whine in protest, your body aching for his touch.

"Kat," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why’d you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you. Never gettin’ tired of my fucking pussy."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding over your sensitive folds once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we made a deal."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— your husband above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. As he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back. You’d never want another. 

Katsuki holds you down on the bed, his weight pinning you in place as his cock slides in and out of your dripping pussy. You arch your back, trying to take him deeper, but he just chuckles darkly.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so desperate for my cock." You whimper in response, your body aching for more. But Katsuki just pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ahh!" you cry out, reaching for him. "Fuck you!"

He smirks, slapping your hand away. "Not yet, baby. You haven't earned it."

He flips you over onto your stomach, your face pressed into the mattress. You feel his hands on your ass, kneading the soft flesh, before he brings his palm down with a sharp smack. Katsuki loves the way the globe ripples, he could watch it all fucking day. You yelp, your body jolting at the impact. But before you can catch your breath, he spanks you again, harder this time.

"Get ready," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "’m gonna tear this ass up."

You count off each blow, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. You gasp and squeal as you feel his teeth meet your soft flesh while he plays with it. Squishing, squeezing, making it bounce in whatever direction makes his dick happy. Your round ass is pulsing by the time he's done, but you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Please Daddy," you beg, your hips bucking back against him. "I want it."

And it almost works, the motion of your cute ass sending a hungry twitch straight to his cock. 

Almost. 

"Not yet," Katsuki says simply, trailing his fingers down your spine. "I want to play with this tight little ass first." You feel his fingers probing at your back entrance, and you clench instinctively. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your stinging flesh.

"Relax, baby," he coos, his voice suddenly gentle. "I'll make it feel good, I promise."

He works a finger inside you, slowly, gently, until you're pushing back against him. Then he adds another, scissoring them inside you as you moan and writhe beneath him. "Fuck, you're so tight," Katsuki groans, his breath coming faster. "I can't wait to feel this tight ass around my cock."

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching. You hear the sound of a bottle popping open, and then his slick fingers are back, working your asshole open.

"I'm going to fuck this ass," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "And you're going to take it like my good little slut."

You whimper at his words, your body both terrified and excited by the prospect. But before you can respond, he's pushing inside you, his cock stretching you wide. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move. It's a slow, steady pace at first, but it quickly builds to something harder, faster.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "Take it, baby. Take my fucking cock." Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting once more.

"No," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

He smirks, flipping you over onto your back. "Because I wanted to see your face when I fuck this ass," he growls, lining himself up with your entrance. Katsuki pushes back inside you, his cock sliding deep as you cry out in pleasure. He starts to move again, fucking you hard and fast as he pins you down with one hand on your lower back.

"Fuck, I love this ass," he groans, his hips slapping against your reddened flesh. "I'm going to fucking ruin it."

You can only moan in response, your body shaking with pleasure as he pounds into you. Just as you're about to come, he pulls out once more. Katsuki pushes your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide open as he slides back inside your dripping pussy. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation.

"Fuck, look at you," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to move. "So fucking needy and sensative. So perfect, all fucking mine."

You can only nod in response, your body his for the taking. He fucks you hard and fast, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Katsuki leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he grinds against your clit with each thrust. "Come for me, Peaches," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. 

"Let me feel you come on my fucking cock."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through the aftershocks until he's buried deep and pulsing inside you.

"Damn," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "You're mine now, baby. All mine."

You can only nod in response, your body spent and satisfied. And as he pulls out, you know that there's no going back. You belong to Katsuki.

Restless, Katsuki pushes you onto your knees, his hand fisting in your hair as he guides your face towards his hardening cock. "Open up, slave," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want to please your Master."

You obediently part your lips, your pretty pink tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock as he slaps it against your cheeks. You moan at the taste of him, your pussy already dripping with need.

"That's it, good girl," Katsuki praises, pushing his length past your lips. "Take it all like a good little fuck toy." You relax your throat, letting him slide in deeper as your hands grip his thighs. He starts to thrust, fucking your face with long, deep strokes that make you gag and choke around him.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he groans, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you struggle to take him. "I'm going to use all your holes tonight, slave. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass. They all belong to me."

You whimper around his cock, the thought of being used so thoroughly making your body ache with need. Katsuki pulls out, slapping your face with his slick shaft.

"Crawl to the pillows," he orders, releasing your hair. "On your hands and knees, ass in the air. I want to see that pretty little pussy dripping for me."

You scramble to obey, presenting yourself to him like the submissive slut you are. Katsuki climbs onto the bed behind you, spreading your cheeks wide as he licks a stripe up your dripping slit.

"Mmm, so wet," he purrs, his fingers circling your clit. "So desperate for my cock. Tell me how much you need it, slave."

"I need it, Master," you whimper, pushing your hips back against his face. "Please, I need your big cock stretching me open. I need you to fuck me hard and make me scream." Katsuki chuckles darkly, pressing a finger into your aching hole. "Nasty little Peach," he scolds, pumping his digit in and out. "You'll get what I give you when I give it to you and you’ll love it."

He removes his finger, leaving you empty and wanting. Then, without warning, he slams his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. You scream out, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion. Katsuki doesn't give you time to adjust, pounding into you with brutal force as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Yes, fuck!" you scream, your pussy clenching around him as he rails you into the mattress. "Harder, Daddy! Use me harder!"

Katsuki obliges, snarling as he hammers into you with wild abandon. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand fisting in your hair and pulling your head back. "This pussy belongs to me. Say it."

"It's yours, Master," you sob, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you within an inch of your life. "All yours! Please, don't stop!"

Katsuki laughs darkly, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. "I'll stop when I'm fucking done with you," he promises, pounding into you even harder. "And trust me, bunny, we're far from done."

He keeps fucking you like a beast in rut, using your body for his own pleasure as you writhe and moan beneath him. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, flipping you onto your back.

"Suck my cock," he commands, straddling your face and pressing the head of his shaft against your lips. "Get it nice and wet for that tight little G-spot of yours."

You obediently part your lips, taking him into your mouth as you suck and slurp around him. Katsuki groans above you, his hips rocking as he fucks your face.

"That's it, Peach," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "Get it ready for me."

He pulls out, wiping your spit off his cock before lifting your legs over his shoulders. You feel the blunt head of his shaft pressing against your asshole, and you tense instinctively.

"Relax," Katsuki soothes, rubbing circles on your lower back. "Let me in, slave. Let me claim this pussy." You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax as he slowly sinks into you. It burns, stretching you wide open, but the pain quickly morphs into pleasure as he starts to move.

"Fuck, so tight," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eases in and out. "I could live in this pussy, baby. I'm going to fucking ruin it."

He picks up the pace, pounding into you with deep, hard thrusts that make you see stars. Your body responds instinctively, clenching around him as you moan and whimper beneath him.

"Yes, Katsuki!" you scream, your nails raking down his back. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Katsuki complies, his hips snapping against yours as he uses your hole like a vice. He leans down, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss as he fucks you into oblivion.

"That's my good little fuck toy," he praises between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "Taking my dick so well. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be used and filled and fucked until you can't think straight."

You can only nod in response, your body shaking with the force of your impending orgasm. Katsuki feels it too, his thrusts getting harder, faster as he chases his own release.

"Cum for me," he demands, reaching between your bodies to rub hot tight circles around your clit. "Cum on my fucking cock like the desperate little slut you are."

Your final orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki follows shortly after looking into your eyes, burying himself deep and pulsing inside you as he fills you with his hot seed. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting and spent. But even in the afterglow, Katsuki's grip on you never loosens.

"Mine," he growls possessively, nuzzling into your neck. "All fucking mine."

The two of you finally stop, breathless and glowing with happiness. Katsuki tugs you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a protective warmth. He gently nuzzles against your cheek before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with concern.

You nod, a giggle bubbling up as you snuggle into his neck. His hands trail over your body in comforting strokes, a loving rhythm that makes you feel cherished. "I'll take you to get your hair fixed tomorrow," he murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I still think it looks nice. Even when you're all sweaty and fucked out." A teasing glint sparkles in your eyes as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. 

"You're such a good husband, Suki. Makes me wonder what you'd be like as a dad," you tease, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

Katsuki's eyes darken with a mischievous glint, and before you know it, you're on your back again, your knees draped over his shoulders. His grin is wicked, but his touch is filled with adoration. 

“What—!”

"Ya know somethin’? I wouldn’ be a good husband ‘less I gave in to all of my wife’s wishes," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. 

"So have it yer way, my love."

SO this was my first time writing a full length smut. How'd I do?

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had is baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and lives, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[yup-thats-me]

slipping through my fingers • Lee Byung-hun

pairing: husband!Lee Byung-Hun x wife!reader

summary: funny tricks of time; growing old with your husband

warning: growing old, age gap. please, please i beg of you don't think too hard about byung-hun and the reader's ages, please. when I tell you me and my friend had to storm our brains for an hour to calculate their ages. please. also, i suggest you listen to the song while reading this<3

"bye bye, momma!" waved goodbye your little girl. she was in high school now, and you and your husband were grateful that your prized girl was not like most teenagers. she was understanding, gentle.

byung-hun stood beside his wife, eyes on the yellow school bus. "seems like yesterday that she came into this world, doesn't it darling?'' he said as he laid his head on her shoulder.

"Mmm", she nodded. "time is cruel."

it really was. how can it be that your daughter is almost at the age where she'll be leaving home when it barely feels that you've been with your husband for barely two years? oh, at it had been eighteen years when you had met Byung-hun.

Byung-hun was a regular at the cafe y/n worked at. he would go there as soon as he wrapped up filming for the day. from the early days of his acting career, he frequented the cafe but it had only been a few months since the waitress. y/n had joined.

she was so sweet, smiling at everyone, not an ounce of anger or tiredness in her eyes. he knew he was at least twenty years older than the girl but it didn't matter, right?

"can i get your name, sweetheart?"

it'd be a lie if y/n said she didn't feel like melting onto the earth. his voice dripping with honey, his eyes smiling.

"y/n."

that had been their first date. Byung-hun had asked her manager if she could leave early. she of course, agreed. how could anyone would deny Lee Byung-hun anything?

that day was eighteen years ago. how time flies.

Byung-hun kissed his wife goodbye. "when I come back let's go out for a movie? with d/n?" she nodded.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"you ready, sweetheart?"

y/n asked fixing her daughter's veil. her little girl was getting married, she's truly going into the world, with someone she loves, adores.

no words could explain how y/n felt. this is the same girl she had given birth to, her little fingers had wrapped around her thumb so adoringly. so naturally.

it's time for her little girl to hold someone else.

y/n wiped the corners of her eyes, not wanting to let her daughter see her cry. "your father is waiting outside. let's go?" her voice trembling slightly.

Byung-hun stood outside the doors, his mind replaying the old times. it feels like yesterday that he held his daughter for the first time, only yesterday had he heard his little girl call him 'appa' for the first time. oh how he had felt the world around him stop at that moment. he really missed the old times.

when his wife came outside holding his daughter, he couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"you look so beautiful, princess." he said hugging his girl.

d/n wiped her tears as well. it felt surreal having her father cry while holding her. "appa, I'm still your little girl. I promise."

y/n patted her husband. the rays of sun falling onto the family, making them look ethereal. after they had composed themselves, y/n softly pushed through the doors of the altar.

she held her daughter's hand, her husband linking his arm with d/n. the music wafted through the venue. some of byung-hun and y/n's friends had tears in their eyes too. to them, d/n was also their beloved girl. time really flies.

when the priest pronounced officially d/n and her lover, y/n had intertwined her arms with her husband. it was much very hard for Byung-hun than her. the man saw his girl as the world, ready to bring the world at her feet. he would become so proud at all of d/n's achievement, no matter small or big. he really was d/n's greatest fanboy.

y/n rested her head against Byung-hun's shoulder, comforting him as d/n and her lover kissed.

beautiful.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"you look so beautiful, my love," came Byung-hun's voice as he handed his wife a cup of coffee as the sat on their porch.

y/n laughed. time had certainly left its marks. "you've been telling me that for the last 35 years, my love."

"and," byung-hun leaned down to kiss y/n's hand. "i would continue to do so till my last breath, sweetheart."

"I love you."

[letsgobarbs]

The Wedding (Acacius Marries His Priestess)

Summary: This is part of the His Priestess universe but can be read as a stand-alone. Acacius marries his Anaticula.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Former Vestal!Reader (No use of y/n, terms of endearment are used.)

A/N: Anaticula means little duckie/duckling. Vestals were initiated at ages 5~7ish and served the temple for 30 years before they were permitted to marry, and Acacius is described to be a decade older than the Reader in the original story. I had meant for this to be a nice, fluffy wedding. But then I got my period in the middle of writing this and this grew progressively hornier... so it's a wedding and the wedding night.

Warnings: PDA, loss of virginity, oral sex (both receiving), eating ass (f!receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex, discussions of having children, food play.

“You must cry.” The Vestal begged.

“Why must I cry? I happen to be very happy today, the tears are not forthcoming.” His anaticula sounded almost petulant, this was not the first time they were having this discussion. Acacius gently stroked his thumb over the side of her finger; their right hands were bound together by wool ribbons, fingers interlocked. 

“The bride has to cry during the wedding procession, show some reluctance and modesty—”

“I am so joyous, I would skip to my husband’s home if I could.” Acacius snorted into his cup of wine, spilling some of the liquid over its edges. He made no effort to suppress his chuckle as he placed the wine down to wipe at his mouth. His lips were still curled into a grin, he found he hadn’t been able to restrain it since he awoke this morning. He cannot decide which sound is sweeter, his name on her lips or her address of him as husband. 

“—it is Roman tradition.” Her friend insisted. 

“I don’t believe I would like to invoke the Roman tradition of kidnapping women for marriage.” Oh, but Acacius had wanted to invoke it several times a day leading up to their wedding. They had been reduced to chaste kisses and clasped hands, always chaperoned by a hawk-eyed matron who would squint at the most gentle caress he dared to share with his betrothed. Now his wife. Her father and brother had insisted it was for his own safety, so their anaticula didn’t attack him again as she had in her office— forcing an honourable man to wed her, they had teased. 

Acacius felt they were having far too much fun at his expense. Because all this honourable man wanted to do was haul her over his shoulders and carry her off to the nearest cave. He wanted to hide her somewhere, not even share her shadow with the world; keep her trapped underneath him until all she could see was him. Alas, he had to settle for buying a domus near her father’s home. He has ensured nobody would interrupt them for the next few days so he could take her over every surface, wall and square foot of the floor before letting her up. Let their pleasure and love strengthen the pillars of their home.   

He had spent over a decade with only his hand for company, but now the few meagre weeks of abstinence riddled his brain with insistent need. His skin buzzed with excitement, a current working its way up his limbs, as it would before a battle, at the very thought of having his Priestess to himself tonight. He had thought up so many ways to unleash that tigress he had encountered in her office.

“You know it is not just about that… The lares will be upset. Your household deities have guarded you for so long, they will be upset to see you spurn their protection for the gods of your husband’s home. You must cry to let them know you do not leave them willingly.” Acacius paused at the words, he had no lares; there were no spirits of ancestors or deceased family to call upon. 

He had been orphaned young, his whole family was lost to illness and he hardly remembered them. He had long lost faith in the deities and gods. But perhaps marriage was making him sentimental, even if ineffective and symbolic, he did not want his Priestess to go without protection. The shrine in his new home was fashioned with a single wooden statue of Vesta he had carved, it bore a distinct likeness to his Priestess, along with rose-scented incense— reminiscent of her scent. However, he couldn’t invoke her own spirit to protect her now could he— that was for his protection.          

Acacius had given up his previous tools of protection. All his equipment had been military commissioned; as a General, he did not believe in using a weapon that his soldiers could not afford; sometimes well-made weaponry was the difference between life and death, and his life was not more valuable than any of theirs. His gladius was the only weapon he had owned— the very one he had used to defend himself in the Colosseum.

Acacius had melted the sword to make two identical daggers— one of which he had gifted to his Priestess as a betrothal gift, the other he had kept for himself. An engagement ring had also been made from the same metal, which she now wore on the third finger of her left hand where it would connect to her heart. It had felt right to slide that ring onto her finger; it was only fitting that the woman who had rescued and protected him had a piece of the blade that had guarded him. He had vowed to never fight another war. After all the victories and bloodshed across the world, he had returned home to submit at her merciful feet. And there had never been a defeat sweeter than losing himself in her, especially not when he had won her too.   

There had been enough metal left over to form a thin betrothal medallion, engraved with their visages sharing a kiss along with two clasped hands on its back. He knew his Priestess wore the medallion around her neck, a gold chain could be seen disappearing into her tunic, the disk surely nestled between her bosom. Acacius wondered if he should convince her to place the token in their shrine. After all, their love had protected and sustained them both through difficult times. He knew it would guide and watch over any children or descendants they might have.

“Did you want me to cry, Acacius?” She asks him as she draws closer, resting their bound hands on his thigh, easing the stretch of the muscles of his arms and shoulders. He really should unbind their hands, they were sitting beside each other, so he had to stretch his arm across his torso to grasp her hand. But judging by how tightly she held him, she did not want to let go either.

He shook his head no, he did not believe he could stomach seeing her reluctance to marry him even if it was feigned. He had even offered for them to stay with her family if she was unwilling to part with them since she had lived apart from them for the last three decades. 

“Are you sure? I could shed some false ones… maybe get closer to the smoke so it would make my eyes water”—Acacius kissed the irresistible little moue off her lips—“If I don’t cry then everyone will say you have married a disobedient wife who will tyrannically dominate your home.” She continued her exaggerated words anyway. She didn’t know that he planned to acquiesce to all her commands and requests, he could swim across oceans blazing with fire just to see her smile— he had done worse for much less. 

Acacius watched the sway of her earrings, the metal catching the light from the setting sun behind her. He hadn’t been able to look away from her since he had lifted her flammeum for their wedding ceremony. The flame-coloured veil glittered around her, casting a warm golden glow upon her skin. His priestess was not one for dull colours, but she looked radiant in her white tunic and stola. 

He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then trailed gentle pecks all the way to her ear where he nibbled on the soft, petal-like skin of her ear lobe before he widened his jaw, tongue reaching out to capture her earring into his mouth. Acacius savoured the coolness of it in the warmth of his mouth as he gently suckled on the jewellery, relishing the shiver that went down her spine. He nuzzled the loose coil of hair behind her ear, knowing she enjoyed the scrape of his beard on her skin— he heard the hitch in her breath. He released the earring in his mouth, letting its wetness streak across her neck.       

“You can cry for me… later when it is just the two of us.” He whispered to her. But his words did not have the intended effect on her. He watched her eyes waver before skittishly looking over his shoulder, her own shoulders tensed and curled away from him. Acacius retreated and saw the nervousness painting her face, her lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed. 

He playfully nudged her nose with his, “What is it, anaticula?” 

He heard the harsh gulp of her throat, her eyes frantically looking around for the right words. When she looked at him again, her gaze was hesitant and embarrassed. His Priestess cupped his jaw with her free hand, her fingers pinched his earlobe in retaliation before her thumb softly stroked under his eyes. Acacius melted into her loving touch, his eyes drooping shut. 

“You woke so early today…” She smelled of her gardens— flowers, herbs and fresh earth. 

He had awakened well before dawn, but he felt rested and replenished. Usually, the bride and her mother would collect flowers from their garden to weave a wreath on the day of the wedding. But his anaticula’s mother had already passed away. He knew the other matrons of her family would gladly help her, but Acacius had wanted to weave her wedding crown himself. He had decided so when he saw her wear a wreath the day she was to be unjustly punished for unchastity.  

He had sneaked into her room, woken her up with cakes collected from the kitchen before stealing her away to the gardens so they could make her wreath. He had chosen marjoram for honour, love and joy; rosemary for fidelity and loyalty; lavender for devotion; sage for long life; verbena, basil and mint along with roses, lilies and violets. The crown had ended up a bit too heavy but she wore it with grace. 

“And you also went hunting with my father and brother.” An animal had to be sacrificed for the wedding. Acacius had decided to hunt a wild boar himself. The entrails of the animal were read by the auspex for omens and the approval of the Gods. It would not have mattered what the auspices prophesied, he would have hunted every animal in the city until the omens were read in his favour. But the first boar had been enough, the omens had signified a joyous and lasting marriage. After the offerings had been made to the gods, the animal was cooked for their wedding feast. 

“Then you cooked in the kitchens as well.” He hadn’t cooked, he had made the bread needed for their wedding ceremony. It was not supposed to be made by the groom. But in the absence of his Priestess, during the months he had believed her to be dead, Acacius had perfected making bread in the kitchens she used to feed the poor. He had wanted that bread to be offered to the gods, he had wanted that bread to be fed to his bride. It was another token of his devotion. 

“The ceremonies were so long.” She was right, Acacius thought the Pontifex Maximus would never stop talking and praying and chanting. He suspected the man dragged out the wedding ceremony solely out of spite that his Priestess had lied about her death. But he had not heard a single word of the chief high priest, his Priestess had stood before him and he was lost in her adoring, twinkling eyes.

He had always believed her eyes to be wondrous, always bright with mirth and mischief, they found joy in the smallest pleasures of life. A single gaze from her could fall on him like a soothing salve as well as disturb his constitution— make him restless with need and desire. His heart always trembled when she looked up at him through those full lashes. But today her eyes had looked so captivating with the kohl lining them that Acacius had almost stumbled in an effort to get to her. He had blindly signed their marriage contract, unwilling to take his eyes off her for too long.

The only time he had lost sight of her today was when he had cried during her consent of their marriage, his own tears blurring his vision. Theirs was a union of equals, he would never make demands on her wealth and personhood, and she was free to keep the name her parents had graced her; all Acacius had wanted was a chance to spend his remaining life by her side, and the privilege of belonging to her. So he had been dumbfounded and overwhelmed when she had forgone the blessed and auspicious name Gaius to lovingly and proudly take his name during her vows. 

Ubi tu Acacius, ego Acacia. Where you are Acacius, there I am Acacia.

He had not deserved the honour, the name meant very little. It was not what his parents had called him; neither was it a name that held any high esteem in terms of legacy and social standing, nor was it the name bestowed upon him by the people. Acacius was always preceded by General and it was a name tainted with the blood of the innocent. But she had taken that piece of himself he was most ashamed of for herself. And in doing so, she had breathed a new life into it— she was what gave his name honour and worth.

And he was proud to be her Acacius. Ubi tu Acacia, ego Acacius. Where you are Acacia, there I am Acacius.

He had broken the bread he had made over her head, careful not to drop crumbs in her hair, before handing over half as an offering to the Gods. Acacius had fed her that bread, her teeth gently grazing his fingertips, affectionately nipping at them, before she had taken the same piece to feed him. And the bread was sweeter where she had bitten into it. But far sweeter was her mouth when he had sealed their marriage with a kiss. 

There was a rightness, a sense of tranquillity, that had settled about him at the conclusion of the ceremony as their hands were being tied. For the first time, Acacius had been content and at peace. His mind was serene, devoid of the usual demons that haunted him; his heart could taste the rising joy within him, and he could pluck the excitement from the air.  

“So you must be very tired tonight…” Her words had tapered into mumbling, which was so unlike the woman he knew. Acacius figured she was hoping to avoid their wedding night which was a surprise since she was so receptive to his advances. 

“One of the women gifted me this… salve. Some ointment they got from a trader.” He knew he wouldn’t need to pry for answers, she would work her way to telling him her concerns eventually. 

“And all the other matrons have been looking at me with these faintly pitying looks. At first, I just thought it was because I did not have a mother… but they sat me down last night for the most interesting conversation.” Her hand left his face to pick a grape before offering it at his lips. Acacius obediently accepted the fruit in his mouth. 

“They said my wifely duties would be very difficult.” She looked at him, as if awaiting a reaction.

“Why? I plan to be the most amenable of husbands, dulcissima.” He dropped an affectionate kiss on her palm. 

“Because of your size, Acacius. They said you would be very big, like a bull”— Acacius choked on the second grape she had shoved into his mouth, a strange sound between a strangled laugh and a cough escaped his mouth—“And it would hurt me very much but I should just lay back and endure. I do not want to endure…” 

Acacius took a moment to appreciate her aggrieved face, “Anaticula, did you not enjoy our play in your office—”

“Yes, about that. It is most uncommon I am told. But that bodes well for our marriage—” he huffed a laugh at the sagely nod she gave, he would have loved to hear her explain to an elderly matron how he had kissed her between her legs. Was that why he had been receiving odd and appreciative glances all day? He felt a flush climb up his neck, how many women had she told?

“I did enjoy it… but do men do it to compensate for the pain after they have taken their pleasure?” He blinked at her, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion based on what she knew.

“I assume… it should not be too difficult, right?” She said, almost as if convincing herself, “I’m told it is quite nice sometimes…”

“I swear to not do anything that doesn’t please you tonight, dulcissima.” 

“Everything you do pleases me.” She gifted him a soft smile. 

“Even when you believe it will hurt you?” He couldn’t help but tease her. 

“I know you won’t mean to.” And she sounded so certain that he felt a tender spot in his heart give away. He could still taste her essence on his lips. If all she allowed him tonight was to drink from her nectar, he would happily pass away on his knees with his head still buried between her thighs.

“Carissima, I will enjoy our nights together, and I expect you will find your pleasure as well. I will ensure it, because it brings me more joy and gratification than you can imagine—” 

“Can the newlyweds please be mindful that the guests are trying to eat their meals?”

His wife reared back with a soft gasp before turning to face her brother. Acacius was pleased to know he held the same effect on her as she had on him. Because he had been heedless of their wedding party all day. Their guests had been raucous, tittering and chatter filled the air; the wine flowed freely and the food was plentiful. Many people had come up to speak to them, but the conversations never extended beyond pleasantries and congratulations. 

After all, he was no longer an important political force and the highest echelons of society still didn’t know of his Priestess’ influence amongst the people. It was baffling how disconnected the aristocrats could be from those they considered lowly. Moreover, their guests were too busy ingratiating themselves with their young Emperor who was in attendance with his mother.

His wife had pointed out no less than three women who had thrown themselves at Lucius, quietly snickering to him when they were rejected. According to her, a prospective paramour had tough competition in both Fortuna and Ravi— who shared a very interesting history. His anaticula loved gossip, it was the most endearing thing about her. And she had informed him with great relish how both Macrinus and Ravi had been lovers once who chose to lead very different lives after earning their freedom. Macrinus had been different then, but he had slowly rotted and corroded just as his owners had. Ravi would go out of his way to help those Macrinus owned, Lucius and Fortuna included— grieving for the man he used to be. She believed the Emperor would be sharing his lovers. Acacius didn’t care as long as none of them came to disturb him and his wife. 

Acacius pulled his wife to stand, urging the wedding to its final ritual. He unbound their hands, so she could pray to the lares of her father’s home and bid them goodbye. He wordlessly assured their household gods that he would take care of her and keep her happy while leaving an offering of food and coins at their shrine. He watched as his wife’s eyes glazed over with tears, helplessly his hand found her arm offering her warmth and comfort. 

“If the lares are unwilling to part with you, tell them they can find you in my home.” He whispered to her. The words pulled a teary huff of laughter from her. 

“I miss my mother.” She quietly confessed. And Acacius felt his heart break for her. He gently wiped at the tears on her cheek, his nose stinging with his own tears as she leaned into his touch.

“She would have been the happiest at this match”—Her father told her, as he handed his wife a clay mask resembling her mother’s face—“take her with you to your new home. Let her guide and protect your family.” Acacius was grateful for another addition to their shrine.

He could think of no better protector than her mother. Acacius had been young and barely literate when he had arrived in Rome and the woman had shown him enough grace and favour to educate him along with her children. It was at her behest that her husband had trained him as a soldier. As a General, he had learned that diplomacy and negotiation prevented unnecessary bloodshed. While he was no politician, these were skills he had learned as a youth when he had watched the woman run her household and business. He remembered anaticula’s mother to be remarkable, shrewd and protective— qualities that he was grateful ran to her daughter as well.        

She lit a torch from their hearth and passed it to the matron of honour before her father and brother tearfully embraced her to say their goodbyes. As he had no family of his own, this man— his mentor— had served the role of his father in all the wedding rituals while his wife’s brother had served as her guardian. There was an uncertainty in the air, even as the guests had begun the wedding chants and songs. As a groom, he was supposed to put on a show of forcefully ripping his bride from the arms of her family. But he knew his wife did not agree with this particular tradition so he waited for her lead. 

She reached out for him and he pulled her closer by the hand, kissing her knuckles as she stood by his side. But instead of walking together, Acacius stooped to carry her, his arm coming under her hips to offer her a perch, another arm supporting her knees. He shouldered past the curtains and flower garlands on the archway of their door to walk out onto the street.

The entire city seemed to have shown up to see her married; in addition to the passers-by, those who used the charitable services she offered had shown to throw honeyed almonds and walnuts at the newlyweds— shouting their blessings and good wishes for her. Her arms found purchase on his shoulders as she looked over them to wave at someone in the crowd. His wife, overwhelmed and astounded at the love people had for her, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and his skin burned with the tears she shed there. Acacius soothingly rubbed her hip and placed a chaste kiss on her arm. He couldn’t help but feel so proud of the woman he loved. 

She sniffled and collected herself as they neared the neighbourhood crossroads, “Acacius put me down, we have to worship the shrine at the crossroads.” He heaved her higher in his arms to readjust his hold on her and bring her closer to the shrine at the crossroads. She placed a ceremonial coin to the protective gods of the shrine along with some food a boy had carried for her. 

Her friend Aquilia, another former vestal, served as the matron of honour and led their group to his home. While her marriage was not as long as was required for the role, her husband’s love for her had persevered through the three decades of her duties in the Temple. Acacius liked the man, he had vowed to take no other woman in his life and had kept his word. Although, he was still upset that all of the Vestals had suspected his anaticula was alive when he had believed her to be dead, but they had not thought to inform him. 

“Surely you don’t intend to carry me all the way home.” She spoke into the curve of his shoulder. He most certainly will carry her to their home.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll tire yourself.” He didn’t grace that with a response. He had carried men heavier than her; in the heat of the battle he had lifted drawbridges and ship towers. She should know better than to question her husband’s strength, he hadn’t earned his physique without the heavy labour. 

She gave a resigned sigh, he felt her warm breath down the back of his neck. She nuzzled behind his ear, and took a deep breath before her tongue lapped at the sensitive skin. Acacius shivered and his knees weakened, his grip instinctually tightened on her so she would not fall. 

“Carissima, wait… we are on the street.” He hissed through his teeth while she quietly laughed. She could not have tasted anything other than the light sheen of sweat he had worked up in the warm evening. His anaticula picked a honeyed almond stuck in the folds of his toga and apologetically offered it to his mouth, Acacius did not forget to kiss her fingertips for the gift. She took another sweet treat for herself that had been trapped in a crevice between them. 

Acacius finally set her down when they approached the new domus, allowing the Pontifex Maximus to utter some more prayers while his wife smeared the fat of the boar to honour Ceres, and the fat of a wolf to honour Rome on their doorposts. She tied the wool strings that had bound their hands to the handle of the door. He felt the first stirrings of impatience, to be so close to their home and not have her to himself was making his hands twitch. 

The guests clamoured to warn her to not step on the threshold as she entered her new home— doing so would insult Vesta and bring bad omen. But Acacius simply lifted her again, with an arm under her waist and knees so that her feet were as far from the threshold as they could be and carried her into their home. 

Only their family followed them inside and watched her light the hearth of her new home with the fire from her father’s home. Acacius extinguished the torch and threw the wood at the audience gathered at their door who rushed to catch it. 

It seems his wife was becoming impatient as well because she had begun the prayer and offerings at their shrine without him. Acacius bent to unlace her sandals, removing the single coin she had stashed in her footwear and placing it at the feet of the wooden Vesta in the shrine.

“Does that statue… look a bit like me?” She murmured. She had yet to discover the depths of his devotion. 

Acacius offered her a lamp and a bowl full of water, “I give you fire and water”—she touched both items—“You are the Domina of this household and master over everything that resides within its walls, including your husband, Carissima.” 

He kissed his wife before turning to his guests, resolutely ushering them out of his home and unceremoniously closing the doors on their teasing and obscene jeers.

You stared at the nuptial bed. It was small— too small. It would barely fit just Acacius, and that too only in width, because one end of the bed lifted into a curve they would have to rest their back against so their feet didn’t hang off the other end. Or perhaps this wasn’t the nuptial bed because it was here, out in the open courtyard, rather than in your husband’s sleeping quarters. But the bed was finely made, with sturdy wood and soft cushions decorated with roses and crocus petals— a current tingled in your belly at the sight of the aphrodisiac flower. That won’t be needed.

Acacius returned in a huff after seeing off your guests, plopping down on the chaise— because really this can’t be called a bed. You looked down at him, resplendent under the glittering moonlight; it made the grey hairs in his curls glimmer silvery. The torches around the atrium cast playful gold shadows across his face. Instead of a white toga as was the custom, he had chosen to drape the red cloak you had made for him all those years ago, its gold embroidery gleamed against his tanned skin. 

But it was his eyes, that made your heart flutter with the verses of love you didn’t have words to express. Acacius managed to make even the cold, luminous moon burn bright and hot in his eyes. Sometimes the way he looked at you still made your heart feel raw and vulnerable. You had waited thirty very long years for him to simply look at you— to recognise you. While you had loved him for as long as you could remember, never once had you hoped for his love too. Your younger self would be in disbelief had you told them one day he would be your husband.     

“Are you hungry?” He asked while stretching out his hand for you. 

You hurriedly shook your head, your insides were suffused with enough love and awe to sustain you for a lifetime. He pulled you to sit on his lap, his thigh felt strong and firm under your bottom. 

Acacius stroked your back, his hand was large and warm as it reached up to cradle your neck; his fingers calloused and firm as they massaged away any tension. Your head lulled back over his hand, a soft sigh escaping your mouth. He leaned forward, another hand coming over your waist pulling you closer into the heat of his chest. You gasped as Acacius kissed along your exposed neck, his beard deliciously scraping against your sensitive skin as his lips lingered over your beating pulse before reaching your upturned chin. He playfully bit your chin. 

You turned in his arms until both your legs framed his waist and you had straddled his lap. You pulled at the wool of his toga, removing it from his shoulders so it lay spread beneath him before your hand slid into his hair; the curls wrapping around your fingers as you claimed his lips with yours. The force of the kiss pushed him down until his head was leaning over the backrest of the chaise.

What you lacked in experience you made up for with need and desperation. There was a groan from his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist to haul you closer to him— something hard was prodding at your thigh. You reverently traced the shape of his lips, feather-soft kisses to the plump cushion of them, light licks over the swooping edges. But you craved more, more, more. You needed to feel his tongue against yours, you needed to be closer somehow. 

Your hand wrapped around his throat, fingers barely reaching the sides of the thick muscles. His heartbeat thundered on your fingers and then onto your palms as you slid your hand up to cup his wide, square jaw. You dug your fingers into his jaw to pry his mouth open. Acacius parted his lips to allow you to explore his mouth, you stroked and delved deeper in the chase for his tongue. He closed his lips around your tongue and suckled. His tongue met yours now, teasing and confident before he released you, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of your tongue and then on your closed lips.

“How do you want me, dulcissima?” He purred against your lips. 

You did not know what he asked of you, “Desperate.” You answered honestly. 

Acacius laughed. A loud, free sound that made your heart race. 

“For you? Always.” He promised as he guided your hips to sit directly on that hard, throbbing part of him. He did feel large.

“I will not do anything you do not wish me to, anaticula. Tell me, what do you want from me tonight?” His tone was breathy as if words were difficult for him. 

“Everything.” You didn’t want to waste another second. It didn’t matter how much it would hurt, but you needed a part of Acacius within you, physically and in every other way you could possibly consume him. 

“Are you sure?” He confirmed even as his hands had already unpinned your veil allowing it to fall behind you. But he waited, for permission, for something as small as a nod while he fingered the Hercules knot tied at your waist— a sign of your chastity.  

“Yes.” Your voice barely about a whisper. Acacius pulls the wool at your waist, both hands fisting your girdle around the knot, and breaks it with apparent ease instead of untying it. He then pushed your stola down over your shoulders until it pooled at your waist. Anticipation curled in your belly as he slowly pulled at the tiny bows that ran down your shoulders and along the sleeve of your tunic. Each tug of string was a sensual display of possessiveness and desire— his eyes were raptured on the swathe of skin as more of you was exposed to him. The tunic too fell at your waist, pooling over his lap and yours; only a plain binding lay between him and your breasts. And instead of unwrapping you, slowly as all his other actions had been. Acacius swiftly and impatiently tugged the fabric down. 

You both gasped at the movement, the cloth dragged across your sensitive nipples causing them to stiffen and bloom towards Acacius. The winds were blowing colder in the night than they were during the day. A shiver ran down your spine as you sat bare on his lap, he made no moves. Acacius just stared with intoxicating eyes; they roved over your body, studying your face, the slope of your neck, the expanse of your chest, the curve of your shoulder, the length of your arms and the swell of your belly until finally, they settled on the betrothal medallion that hung in the valley of your breasts. 

Even as you held still for him, allowing him to look his fill, the experience of being displayed thus was new and uncomfortable— no man had seen you this way. But it was not unwelcome. He looked breathless and awed, his hand faintly trembling as he brushed your nipples with the back of his fingers. The touch was so light, lighter than a feather, but it incinerated you, it sent a fiery current down to your womb which contracted; there was an insistent throb between your legs. 

But whatever sensation you felt seemed dwarfed by his reaction. Acacius shuddered. His eyes were wide and glassy. You placed a hand over his heart, its pace wild and erratic. Abruptly, he dug his fingers into your waist, lifting you off his lap and stood with you. Your clothes fell to your feet, and you fisted his tunic to guide it over his head. You regretted that he chose to wear the tunic that fell to his calf, the longer fabric took a few scant moments longer to be pulled over his head but the wait was torturous. His underwear swiftly followed yours on the floor. 

Acacius was better than anything you could have ever imagined. Better than those marble statues of gods and heroes, better than art and most certainly better than those erotic drawings you bought on the streets. He looked unworldly, bathed in both the cool of the moon and the warmth of the hearth. He had been stripped to his basest form now both hardened warrior and wild beast with the eyes of a man in love. Your husband. 

You laughed then, wide and happy, “You are divine, Acacius.” 

He answered with a chuckle, light flickering over the dimple on his cheek, “You do not see yourself, carissima.”

He held nothing of himself back as he allowed you to touch him; he sighed as you caressed his scars as if you relieved him of the pain, his breath hitched as your fingernails raked over the hair on his chest, he gasped as you scraped over his nipples. The planes and hills of his body leaned into your palm as you explored all the ways he was different from you.   

He did not stay still under your ministrations for too long and his lips fell on yours without reserve, his hands cupped your ass using it to pull you closer towards him. Your arms wrapped around his neck like a garland of love, a hand buried in his hair in a silent command for him to never stop kissing you, another hand exploring his broad shoulders, the stretch of his back and the bulk of his arms. You decided Acacius had to be naked until the sun rose tomorrow so you could study every freckle and spot on his body.

His kiss was raw, elemental— there were no gentle explorations and tentative touches. Acacius claimed and conquered, his lips on yours were hard and insistent while his hands on your body were rough and restless. He touched where no decent man would linger, using your delighted and shocked gasp to enter deeper into your mouth; you clung to his shoulders to keep up with his pace and only his hands held you upright. 

A calloused thumb grazed your nipple before he pinched and pulled at the sensitive flesh. You bit into his lip, giving it a sharp nip in response and Acacius groaned into your mouth. He kneaded the flesh of your hips, but his fingers slipped as they moved to the inside of your thighs. You were dewy and wet for him, the hairs and skin surrounding your sex were covered in slick moisture. 

He lazily explored your folds, his fingers parting and squeezing as they pleased until he bought his tips right against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit. You ground your hips against his curled fingers when he stilled his motions, desperate for the friction as your pleasure built, steadily climbing up your spine while he nipped under your jaw before receding to watch the sway of your hips to and fro, to and fro over his hand, smearing it with more of your sticky fluid. 

“Please…” You begged him. And Acacius moved his fingers then, in dizzyingly tight circles on your nub, his calloused finers offering just the right roughness needed for your muscles to seize. Warm currents coursed through your veins as you trembled and shuddered through your release in his arms— your skin overheated against the cold air. The hair on his chest dragged against your erect nipples causing more of your limbs to twitch; he held you close through your pleasure, his fingers unrelenting until the little bud was oversensitive to touch.

You rested your weight against him, your legs feeling too soft under you and took his flat nipple in your mouth wanting to give him the same pleasure he gave you. You gazed up through your lashes as he brought the hand that had been between your legs close to his mouth and groaned as he licked a wide strip from the side of his wrist to the centre of his palm. Your tongue lapped over his nipple to mimic the movement before encircling the little peak, you toyed it between your teeth and Acacius greedily shoved three fingers into his mouth to taste you— a soft breathy moan escaped him. 

He pulled you off his nipple, your lips making a soft pop sound as they left his flesh slightly red. His hand curled into your braids as he pulled you by the head, “Taste yourself on my tongue, anaticula. Sweeter than honey…” 

Your tongues met again in a dance of their own before you suckled his tongue as he had yours, drinking him in. You weren’t particularly sweet, but something about your taste mixed with the spit of his mouth sent a heady thrill through your body which made your toes curl. His hands roamed your body again, finding the spots and places that were sensitive, he lingered there with light touches and tender caresses— surprising you entirely when he sharply pinched your waist. You pushed deeper into the strength and heat of his body as your waist rolled with his unruly touch. Acacius swallowed the surprised moan from your mouth. 

He had always been so… staid, controlled and solemn that you had expected Acacius to be such in his intimate moments as well— respectful and gentlemanly. There had been a wild, unpredictable demon that had come out to play in your office all those weeks ago but you had attributed his actions then to the high tensions and unresolved conflicts. But he was here now, lurking in the dark gaze of his desire, the tremble of his lips and the urgent grasp of your body. He could barely contain himself. 

And it made you realise just how much of him you had yet to learn. Like the rest of the world, you had seen the dignified General. You knew the reluctant conqueror and the grieving soldier. You had met the loyal friend, the protective family, the kind elder in him. But you were unacquainted with this man before you— unrefined and almost savage under the influence and vulnerability of his own wants and impulses.   

It filled you with a childish, stupid sort of rage to know that others had seen him as such. He had lovers before you, while you were trapped in a temple. He was so familiar with the female body, while you had to flounder for answers. It made you all the more resolved to erase all those previous embraces and lovers from his mind. You clutched him closer still, his cock insistently pressing into your belly, the tip leaking and smearing a wet patch across your skin. 

From this day forward, there will be no other for either of you. It had been an entirely new discovery to know you were a jealous, shrewish sort of wife who could not even bear that her husband thought about another lover even in passing. Should your husband ever tire of this marriage, he will have to squeeze the life out of you himself to be free of you. And this realisation was entirely unsurprising, that you would be content with such a death. You only had one life and one heart but if you had more, those too you would gift to Acacius.   

You guided him to sit on the chaise again, and despite his forceful and desperate advances, he went obligingly— never once pulling his mouth away from yours, pulling you to sit on his lap. But you evaded his embrace and knelt between his feet the only way you knew how; like a devout priestess kneeling at the altar of her deity— like a lover submitting at the pulpit of her beloved. 

Your eyes trained on his phallus, you had seen the male form before on statues, art and even in ceremonial rites to ward off evil; but you had never seen one quite as wide or large as his— your fingers barely touched as you wrapped your hand around him. He hissed as you gripped him and stroked to its base, pulling some of the skin and exposing the angry bulbous head that was leaking clear beads of liquid. You moved to taste him as he had tasted you, but his hands framed your face, halting it in its descent. 

“What are you doing, anaticula? That is not for wives to do.” Of course, it wasn’t. It hadn’t been the old matrons who taught you how to suck a man’s cock. No husband from a respectable household would expect this from his wife. But you wanted this. And before shame could eat away at your courage you confessed to your husband. 

“But… I want to.” Ever since you had felt his tongue between your legs, there was very little you had thought of. You couldn’t bear the idea of never sharing this intimacy with him.

“You can explore all you like later. I can’t— I won’t last if you toy with me now…” His thumb caressed the apple of your cheek, his torso hulking and leaning over your knelt form.

“But we have all the time in the world, Acacius.” You struggled against the hold he had on your face, and stretched your tongue out of the confines of your mouth when he wouldn’t allow you closer to him. You barely tasted that small drop on the weeping slit of his cock on the tip of your tongue with a short cat-like lick. Acacius shivered.

He spread his legs wider and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips before lowering your mouth to his cock. The tip of it nestled against the curved roof of your mouth, the flared head pressing against the wrinkled ridges behind your teeth and it already felt so full. It was ticklish if not altogether strange sensation and you took him deeper until he was touching the more sensitive and softer part in the back of your mouth, your hand coming up to stroke the rest of his length that was left outside. 

You realised you could do this forever as your eyes closed shut. Your tongue was pressed to the vein that ran along the underside of his cock which thrummed with his heartbeat. It was like you were holding his beating pulse, his very heart, in your mouth. You felt his thigh quiver under your hand, and you chanced a curious glance up at your husband to behold the sight of him trembling, his teeth clenched and jaw twitching with the effort to remain perfectly still. And yes, you realised, you could do this forever— just hold him in your mouth until he lost his composure and grew desperate enough to fuck into your mouth. 

Acacius frowned at you, he looked dark and forbidding, “I know that look in your eyes, put away whatever idea you just came up with, wife.” He spoke through gritted teeth and his chest racked with the effort to breathe. 

You started moving your head, slowly at first as Acacius guided your hand to stroke over his length as he liked— tightening your grip and twisting your wrist. You hollowed your cheeks to envelop his cock tighter and suck him deeper inside your mouth, relaxing your throat to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. Perhaps, your husband was to be cursed with the most selfish sort of wife because you stopped looking for his reactions, his cock was in your mouth for your pleasure alone and whatever he might glean from it was secondary in your mind. 

He smelled of musk, sweat, the floral powder used to scent his clothes and something so addictingly Acacius. You rubbed your thighs together, the arousal had pooled from between your thighs to coat your ankles and feet under your folded legs. You hated to feel him receding from your mouth, sucking him as your head moved up, swirling your tongue around him to taste him before coaxing him deeper into your mouth again. Experimentally, you brought a hand to the sac hanging heavily under his cock, testing its weight and the hairy texture of the skin, gingerly massaging it until it drew tight in your palm. 

His cock jumped in your mouth as his hands entangled in your braids to pull you off him. But you suckled him with a petulant whine, refusing to be wrested off him. A warm, salty and slightly bitter taste filled your mouth while he wrenched your head off him, the rest of his spend falling in spurts across your face and neck. What a waste…

Acacius glowered down at you, mouth agape and panting, “You are going to be the death of me… One of these days you will kill me.” His eyes were focused on your tongue as you licked the side of your lips to taste more of him. And he watched as some of his cum glittered on your skin as it trickled down until it was halted in its path by the gold chain hanging from your neck. He lapped at your skin, collecting his cum from the chain and depositing it into your mouth with what could barely be considered a kiss, his tongue surged into your mouth until you had cleaned his thick release off it.

You felt a smug satisfaction as you noticed that he was still shaking, a bit unsteady on his feet as he stood and lifted you onto the chaise. You thought you could consummate your marriage now, but to your confusion he knelt before you— his cock looking much flatter, softer. You felt your lower lip wobble as Acacius guided you to lean back. Was it supposed to do that?

“What did you think was going to happen?” He chastised you. 

“I had no reason to believe he would just go soft like that… can’t you make him go up again?” You whispered, a bit uncertain of the male anatomy. Would you not be able to consummate your marriage tonight?

Acacius leaned over to kiss your pouting lips, “It comes back faster when you’re younger.” 

You adoringly caress his bearded cheek as he smiles down at you, an uncertain vulnerability curved about that smile. You struggled to think of what to say to him, he could be old and decrepit and you would still be glad to have him as your husband. You had still wanted him a few short hours ago when you had been expecting pain and shame on your marriage bed, and you wanted him more now that he had shown you pleasure and wonder instead. You loved him not because of his prowess in bed but because of the simple fact that he was Acacius— steadfast, loyal, protective, kind, and loving, oh so loving.

But complex sentences evaded your mind as his lips closed around your nipple, he lingered there with his teeth and tongue before moving just a bit below to bite under your areola. He insistently sucked the flesh of your bosom into his mouth until it came away with a small bruise. His lips traversed down your body in a sensual dance of kisses, nips and almost painful bites. He spread your legs and groaned at the sight of your arousal smearing large patches of your limbs. 

“So wet for me, anaticula.” His voice was breathless.

“You’re perfect.” You settled for simpler words that were just as true. He was perfect. Acacius huffed a warm burst of laughter. 

“I’m glad you think so, wife.” He chimed even as his gaze seemingly searched for the sincerity in your eyes.

“I love you.” You offered him another nugget of truth. 

You watched as the colour rose from his chest to his neck, Acacius shyly smiled before obscenely licking at your arousal and suckling another bruise on the inside of your thigh. He was marking you.   

You squirmed with anticipation, feeling his hot breath on your cunt as he spoke, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back just as we have prepared you some more.” 

“Here, hold these for me.” He spread your thighs and pushed them towards you, your hands came under your knees to hold yourself open for him as he had commanded. 

His mouth on your cunt was a reunion like no other. Acacius remembered every sensitive spot and fold of your sex. But the swooping in your womb had more to do with the sight of him rather than the pleasurable feeling of his tongue on your slit— his mouth attached to your cunt, eyes glazed over with a half-awake and half-asleep look in his eyes, lashes gracefully fluttering as he tasted you, a patch of his cheekbone shimmering under the lamp light where the slick from your thighs had smeared across his face.                

Gone was the urgency with which he had devoured you previously in your office, he was instead languid and slow. But there was a fervour in his grip and his fingers painfully dug into the flesh of your hips. He toyed with one of the lips covering your opening, sucking it into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth before doing the same with the over. His tongue roved over your sex sometimes just the tip, lightly and ticklishly grazing over a sensitive spot, and other times he was insistent, tongue flat against your folds as he roughly lapped up your essence. 

You grew desperate as he purposely avoided that crest right at the apex of your sex that would ensure you would see stars behind your eyes again. And you grind your hips against his face, hoping to catch the needy spot against his nose, or his lips or even his chin— the lightest of touch there could set you off, you were so close, the tension curled so tightly inside you. There was a resounding smack in the air, it didn’t occur to you that Acacius would hit you until there was a tingling on the side of your ass, the impact making you gush into his mouth.

“Of course, you would enjoy something like this,” He murmured. And he laughed. He had the audacity to laugh as his lips closed around the exposed little bud, the vibrations of his amusement travelling straight into your nerves. You came undone with a shout, your eyes unseeing while your veins felt alit with delicious flames coursing through them followed by warm currents that doused your body in a dreamy languor. You lost your grip under your knees, letting your legs fall apart in the most inelegant fashion but still spread so wide for your husband. Acacius moved away with a teasingly tutting at you, and you whimpered at the loss.

“Hold them for me again,” He said. And you obediently took your position, hands under your knees, lifting your trembling legs so you were entirely exposed for him. 

Acacius took your clitoris in his mouth again, his tongue encircling the oversensitive bud. You felt his thumb gather some of your slick before going down to the ring of muscles far below your cunt. You gasped his name in surprise as his digit followed the same dizzying circles around the ridged fig-like skin surrounding that opening. 

“Is this alright? Do you trust me?” You gave a hasty wordless nod for both questions. 

Acacius pressed two fingers into your cunt and suddenly it was all a bit too much. His tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, the intrusion of his fingers felt foreign and the thumb circling your other hole was sending waves of pleasure to muscles you hadn’t realised could be used for such a purpose. He watched you restlessly whimper and whine with half-lidded eyes as you squirmed at his touch. He released the nub of flesh from his mouth, making soothing sounds as he comforted you. 

“Relax for me, let it happen, my love, do not fight it.” He said as he curled his fingers inside you catching some dormant set of nerves which threw you into another release. You came with a gasp, still shaking and quivering as he pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t yet descended from the heights of your pleasure, your muscles feeling fuzzy and boneless when he flipped you over. Your head rested sideways over the backrest of the chaise as Acacius guided your own hands to your ass. 

“Spread yourself for me, wife.” His tone clipped and terse. You had thought yourself past surprise and shame but were still so unprepared for the feel of his tongue against your anus. His tongue burned hot against the ring of muscle as he held it in place while his fingers found their way inside your cunt again, three this time instead of the two before. And this time he lets you grind yourself on his face. You are mindless and hazy with pleasure, there is no real pace or rhythm to your hips.

His hand curved around your waist so he could curl his fingers into your clit, providing delicious friction as you swayed your hips. His fingers lazily dragged in and out of you, his beard scraped against your sensitive skin, and his tongue pressing hot and wet against the opening of your ass, burrowing inside despite your haphazard movements. Acacius gives you a deep hum of approval the more desperate and determined you grow in pursuit of another release. 

It crept up on you, steadily climbed your spine, long and drawn out rendering you utterly silent as your body gripped and convulsed barely being able to hold itself up. For several moments you were lost to the world, Acacius circled and patted the erect bud of nerves until you stopped twitching while another had soothingly stroked and petted over your shivering skin. He turned to lay you on the chaise, pressing an affectionate kiss to your parted lips and covered you with his own body, whispering soft praise and encouraging words as his legs entangled with yours— you gasped at the feel of his weight, another throb coursing down your sated sex, you clenched around the tip of his cock as he bullied his way inside.

As he had promised, it did not hurt. But you felt full, and far too relaxed and pliant to be overwhelmed even with the slight burn of the stretch. Dazed, you noticed the wet patch on the backrest where his hand gripped— you had drooled. It was worse, your release had coated his cloak underneath you, it glistened against his face and it dripped down his chin, his neck, his chest. 

“Dulcissima, you have to let me in, please— you’re strangling me. Breathe—” Acacius was tense, speaking through gritted teeth, his words breaking from his effort to breathe. And your body complied with his request, you could never deny him. And you felt complete once he had nestled inside you, filling not only your cunt but your heart and your soul. Your gaze was wondrous and awed as you held him inside you, you clenched around him trying to pull him impossibly closer still. 

He gasped before kissing you again, trying to hold most of his weight off you. You stay that way, connected in more ways than just the physical, locked together in both love and ecstasy— your hands exploring his warm skin and the strong contours of his body. A surprising laugh bubbled up your throat when you realised Acacius had broken into goosebumps, his hair raised alert and small bumps ran along his arms. 

His forehead pressed against yours and you nudged his nose with yours gazing into the eyes of your beloved seeing the love and adoration reflected there. He softly caressed your cheek and your temple, “I haven’t done this in years,” he confesses. Years?

“Good.” 

He chuckles at your response, “Good? It means I won’t last long…”

“You don’t have to. It is done, is it not? The consummation.” 

He pecks your nose, “We aren’t done until you come all over my cock, anaticula.” 

And then he moves, in sufficiently long and deep strokes that have your eyes rolling back, grinding his hips so the hair above his cock rubs against the erect nub above your opening. Your nails dig into his back, the coil of pleasure winding tighter at your core. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the skin of your neck. 

“It doesn’t hurt.” You told him as your hips rolled to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve done you a disservice—” Why was he talking? Did he expect you to hold a conversation? All you could manage was a broken keen when he rubbed the most perfect spot on the inside. 

“You’ve been trapped in a temple for thirty years, you deserved to see the world, take a few lovers, but I have trapped you instead.” 

“No—” He couldn’t possibly be saying these things while his arm wrapped under you to massage your anus. 

“You can roam the world, freely conduct your business— take over Rome if you want to— I’ll follow you… anywhere. I’ll go.” He wiped the tears that slipped out of your eyes before continuing, “But this is what you will do at the end of every day, anaticula.”

“You will go about your dreams and ambitions and then you’ll come home every night into my arms, my bed, with my cock buried deep in your cunt. Do you understand?” He brutally snapped his hips into you while you responded with some sound between a sob and a laugh. 

“Say it, say it to me. Tell me you’re mine.” He commanded, his eyes overcome with a zealous light. His fingers dipped into the tight ring of your ass. You could feel his cock all the way in your throat.

“We’ll have to train this hole of yours open if you do not want children, carissima. This is where I will fuck you next. But you’ll take me, like a perfectly biddable wife— into your heart, into your body. It is my home, and you will not cast me out—”

“I want them— I want children, everything you give me— please please please— Acacius.” You begged. 

“I’m yours. Your wife, your lover, your whore— please, Acacius—” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him. But your husband, ever the provider, brushed his fingers against your clit and you shattered under him with a distorted scream. You convulsed and shook underneath him with no effect as his weight pressed down on you. And your husband followed soon after, shivering and groaning as he painted the inside of your cunt with his warm seed; your walls fluttered around him to milk every last drop of it. 

“Daughters… wife. Give me daughters, ones who take after their mother in both looks and heart.” He prayed to you. Acacius stayed that way for several long moments, reverently kissing your warm and sweaty skin while you felt him softening inside you. You clenched around him in distress, hating the inevitable loss as he slipped out of you.

You had watched with great interest as he had stumbled away from you, admiring the sight of his ass, wishing you can sink your teeth into it. And with even more interest, you stared at his cock as he returned with a wet cloth to clean you both along with a tray of food he had prepared. The both of you had ravenously polished off the feast of olives, cheese, fruits, stuffed dates, spiced cookies, bread and sausages. Your husband had plied you with more wine before dipping his strawberries in your cunt to eat them; they tasted sweeter that way he had claimed and you hadn’t believed him until you had cleaned up honey from his cock which had tasted impossibly sweeter to you.

You lay on him, sleep still evading you because you knew you had to address his words when he had been inside you. Your back leaned against his chest, and Acacius had parted his legs to make room for your bottom between them. Another reason sleep was not possible, this chaise was too small for both of you— you told your husband as much. 

“You should have seen the one they brought before, it was much smaller… So I built this one.” He chuckled.

“You built this bed yourself?” You whispered, appreciating the work and polish under new light. You thought he only worked on smaller projects.

He hummed in response, “And the bed in our chambers. Don’t worry, I made that one palatial.”

“So why aren’t we there?” You laughingly demanded. 

“Because I wanted the heavens to witness our consummation, dulcissima.” And your heart fluttered again. 

“I still quite like this one, despite how small it is… It’s our marriage bed and I’ll be fucking you on it as often as I can.” Despite, how sated and spent you felt, heat still curled in your belly at his promise. 

“You know, Acacius”—you turned in his arms to face him, chin resting against the swell of his stomach, you gazed up at him with imploring eyes—“You have done me no disservice. I wanted to marry you.”

You couldn’t hold in the words any longer, “You can never imagine yourself as some chain around my feet… you make me brave. You bolster me, make me feel safe— like I will always have someone on my side.” 

He sweetly caressed your spine, “I’ll never give you cause to be disappointed in our marriage, anaticula.” 

“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried, Acacius.” You struggled against the insecurities in his mind, before realising that only time will reassure him. 

“I love you,” Acacius said, not as a confession or a desperate sigh, but in the same steady way he would voice a fact. 

“I love you, too,” You whispered against his chest. 

“Are you sore?” He gently asked. 

You were, not just between your legs but also in your heart— you shook your head in denial. Just a little white lie because you knew that having him close, having him inside you could cure all ails. 

Acacius watched the sun rise, as he would on most days of his marriage— casting his wife in an ethereal glow, the rays shining down on all the marks he had left on her body while she languorously rode his cock to their shared bliss. 

[dulcescorderitas]

parings: sam winchester x reader

synopsis: you and sam have a quickie wedding

warnings: fluff, no smut

wedding night - coming tommorrow

it’s vegas week, baby, and everything’s a little blurry, a little too loud, a little too much—and you love every second of it. the city hums with its own kind of chaotic energy, one that matches your thumping heart as you sneak another glance at sam, his too-tall frame leaning casually against the slot machine like it’s no big deal he’s about to marry you in less than twenty-four hours.

his eyes catch yours, a slow, soft smile curling at the edges of his lips, the kind of smile that makes your chest tighten in all the right ways. damn, that smile. it’s got a way of undoing you without even trying.

"you ready for this?" he asks, voice low and a little rough, like he’s still not entirely sure you’re serious about tying yourself to his kind of crazy.

you step closer, fingers trailing along the edge of his jacket, a teasing grin playing on your lips. "sam, i’ve been ready since the day you handed me that cheap diner coffee and told me demons were real. you think vegas is gonna scare me off?"

he chuckles, the sound deep, vibrating through your bones in the most delicious way. "didn’t think so," he murmurs, pulling you in, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades—just the two of you and the wild energy of the strip flickering in neon behind your closed eyelids.

then, there’s dean.

of course there’s dean.

“alright, lovebirds,” he interrupts, not even pretending to hide the smirk that stretches across his face. "as much as i love a good chick flick moment, we’ve got a wedding to plan, and if you think i’m not gonna be part of this, you’ve lost your damn minds."

sam groans, but it’s affectionate, his arm slipping around your waist as he turns to face his brother. “dean, it’s just a small ceremony—”

“yeah, yeah, small ceremony, big party. listen, sammy, you might not need a best man, but i’m not sitting on the sidelines for this one.”

there’s a beat of silence, then sam looks at you, a little helpless, a little resigned, like he knows there’s no arguing with dean when he’s made up his mind. and, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"he’s in," you say, slipping your hand into sam’s. "how could we do this without him?"

dean grins, slinging an arm around both of you, already talking about the perfect dive bar for the post-wedding blowout. and as much as sam rolls his eyes, you can tell he’s relieved, because that’s the thing about the winchesters—there’s no such thing as doing anything alone.

____

the chapel isn’t much—one of those quickie joints with gaudy hearts plastered on the windows and a sign that reads 24-hour weddings, elvis optional. you couldn’t resist the cliché, the allure of something so wildly impulsive and reckless. it felt right. but as you stand in front of the doors, a nervous knot twists in your stomach. it hits you that this is real. not just some drunken dare or spur-of-the-moment thrill. this is a forever kind of thing.

you’re in a dress that hugs you in all the right places, sam’s in a suit that somehow makes him look even more irresistible, and dean? dean’s got a shit-eating grin like he’s officiating the damn thing himself.

the ceremony’s quick, simple—just the way you wanted it. sam’s hands are warm, steady as they cradle yours, and when he promises forever, you know he means it. hell, you both do. because in a world that’s always ending, where the monsters are real and the stakes are life or death, finding someone to hold onto? that’s the real jackpot.

"you may now kiss the bride," the officiant says, but sam’s already leaning in, catching your lips in a kiss that’s too hot for the little chapel, but you don’t care. you melt into him, forgetting everyone and everything except the way he makes you feel like the world could burn and you’d still be okay.

dean clears his throat. "as touching as this is, i think we’ve got some shots to take and some bad decisions to make."

you laugh against sam’s lips, pulling back just enough to look up at him, breathless and giddy. "what do you say, mr. winchester? ready to make some bad decisions?"

sam’s grin is a little wicked, a little wild. "as long as they’re with you, mrs. winchester."

and with that, you’re swept into the madness of vegas, the three of you—sam, dean, and you—taking on the night like it’s your last. because with them, every day’s an adventure, and this? this is just the beginning.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

When the Rooster Misses the Dawn

So I saw this post from @triassictriserratops and asked if I could have a go at it, since I do enjoy writing some oblivious Gale letting his arrogance where Katniss is concerned lead him into accidental voyeurism. What can I say? I hope you enjoy and this cheers you up a bit, my friend!

RATED M for mild sexual content, accidental voyeurism, and brief mention of miscarriage.

Written in haste and not beta read so all mistakes are mine.

***

There existed only a handful of situations dire enough to wrest Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne from his duties. Of course, his duties lay so far afield from home that word of the disaster took months to reach him. 

The news first took the form of a letter from his mother. He hardly gave countenance to it. Surely she must be mistaken, he thought as he read the preposterous claims. Katniss engaged to be married? Impossible. She and Gale had an agreement. Nothing official, to Gale’s great chagrin. He had meant to formalize it before he left, but so many other details had captured his attention. Ensuring his family’s security before he left, for one. There was also the matter of that pretty little blonde claiming him as the sire of her brat. 

He couldn’t very well outright propose to Katniss while dealing with that potential catastrophe. It had been costly but well worth it in the end. While the tidy sum and stern words he’d given the girl had hushed her, Gale found himself floundering for the words ample enough to convey his intentions to his true beloved when the time came.

He thought she had understood. No. He was certain Katniss had understood. She had no wish to marry immediately but would welcome a proposal from a good man she could respect, one who could provide her with security and stability, she had told him. Who would help her see Primrose educated and launched into society at the appropriate age. A man who would be a dutiful father to her children and a willing caretaker to her mother, should Mrs. Everdeen live to see her elderly years. Gale had been certain she meant him. Who else could she have meant? 

He had left home, confident that Katniss would wait for him to secure his status in the army. They would marry as soon as he returned home. That was his understanding of the matter. His mother must be mistaken. 

Still, to be certain, he had dispatched a letter to Katniss, laughingly commenting on the preposterous rumors about her marital status. While he waited for her reply, he dispatched his military duties with alacrity, even with enjoyment at times. And if he occasionally spent a small, token amount of his earnings on pleasurable company, no man in his right mind would chastise Gale for the weakness. 

The fact that the number of women whose bed he had warmed numbered too great for him to count did not signify. He consoled himself with the conviction that his knowledge of the carnal delights would only enhance his skill in the marriage bed. Katniss, he was certain, would have no recourse to complain if he could provide her with unparalleled ecstasy as well as a parcel of strong, healthy children.

A second letter from his mother reached him before any reply from Katniss. In this letter, Mrs. Hawthorne delivered the news that it was done. Katniss had been married a sennight previous to the penning of the missive he held in his hand. His mother had been in attendance at what she called a “lovely but rather hasty affair.” A quick calculation revealed to Gale the horrific possibility. The letter had clearly been waylaid. If indeed it were true, his darling Catnip had been wedded and bedded four months prior.

Gale denied it as long as possible. Until three days hence when at last a letter arrived from Katniss herself. No, not a letter. A mere note of five sentences. It too had been mislaid, likely due to the dampness that obscured some of Katniss’s already messy penmanship. Had she been in tears when she wrote this?

My dear friend,

I haven’t the time to give the news more than a few sentences, but indeed it is no jest. I write to you as a married woman and we depart this very morning for my husband’s estate. I have only time to provide you with my new direction. Write to me, Gale. I fear you would not understand our marriage and I could not bear it if it were the reason for the dissolution of our friendship.

Lady Katniss Mellark

Lady! So then, she had married a lord. Gale seethed at the indignation. She must have been induced into marriage for the sake of money. The security and stability she had claimed to desire for herself and her family was to blame. He had known that Katniss and her family existed constantly on the verge of gentile poverty, but had he known the situation to be so dire, he would have offered for her hand much sooner. Far better to be wed and separated for an untold number of months rather than see Katniss sell herself into marriage to a lord. No doubt an old, doddering fool of a lord, at that.

Such injustice! Gale raged for months, convinced of his righteous fury at the indignity Katniss must be suffering at the hands of her revolting spouse. To be forced to play nursemaid to an aging fool, and to then submit herself to his no doubt odious and lecherous advances in the marriage bed. No! It was not to be bourne.

It took days for the Colonel to untangle his affairs, both military and personal, enough for him to request a leave of absence. He wrote to Katniss at her new direction, providing a date she could expect him to visit. The journey required interminable weeks which he spent planning his strategies. How to convince Katniss to escape her horrific marriage, or encourage her to speed her husband’s journey to the grave. He would, of course, lend any assistance she might need in the matter.

At last, he arrived at the estate of Lord Peeta and Lady Katniss Mellark, Earl and Countess of Baecare. As he reined in his steed, his gaze swept the rather humble facade of the manor home. A place so quaint should prove no challenge for him to storm. A mere servant greeted him and as he gave his name, he was informed that Lady Katniss was currently indisposed.

“May I show you to your room? My lady will join you in the parlor after you’ve had a chance to freshen up and settle in your room.”

Gale agreed to the terms of engagement and dismounted. He had little enough in the way of luggage and carried it himself as he followed the maid inside.

The interior of the house impressed him even less than the exterior. He could not be terribly wealthy, this Lord Mellark, Gale thought as he examined the house. So simple and lacking in ostentation. Katniss could not be happy to have sold herself for so little. How exactly was this Lord Mellark meant to support Katniss, her sister, and her mother if he could so ill afford the luxuries of a wealthy home? 

He found his chambers serviceable but unimpressive. He had shared a bed with a courtesan whose chambers put this one to shame in terms of wealth and opulence. This house was no more than a country farm. To think that her husband claimed nobility with this shabby residence!

Gale freshened his appearance, and satisfied that Katniss, although he had never known her to be given to flights of romanticism, might in fact be swept off her feet by his dashing appearance, Gale made his way to the parlor to wait.

A footman offered him a drink and poured a glass of Scotch for him, then left him in silence to contemplate the room. He found more of the same. Serviceable but falling short of his expectations for the home of an earl.

“Forgive my intrusion,” a voice broke Gale’s strategic concentration and he turned about to find a man entering the room, one arm working a gleaming wooden crutch as he limped closer, an affable smile on his face. A young man, dressed in simple but fine clothes. A dark blue coat over an intricately embroidered, pale green waistcoat. His shirt and cravat crisp white and his breeches a soft, almost buttery shade of tan. Despite the man’s obviously deformed leg and limp, he wore gleaming riding boots. 

“You must be Colonel Hawthorne. Welcome to our home. Katniss has spoken so warmly of you that I feel I know you already,” the stranger said and stopped far enough away to execute a polite bow. “Please, allow me to refresh your drink.”

Gale stood there as the stranger claimed his glass and refilled it.

“I hope your journey was swift and untroubled?”

“A little longer than I had hoped, but no challenges I could not handle.” The stranger chuckled and offered the refilled glass to Gale. He accepted it and attempted to puzzle out who this young, cheerful man could possibly be in relation to Katniss. Surely this was not the Lord of the Manor… or perhaps it was.

“Indeed. My lady has spoken at length about how capable her dear friend Gale Hawthorne is in all matters,” the man spoke the words and yet Gale could not absorb them fully. His lady. Of course servants address their mistress with the honorific, but this man did not dress like a servant. Perhaps the lord’s son and heir, then? A cripple, how embarrassing. Perhaps then the aging Lord Mellark had offered comfort and wealth to Katniss in the form of a dowager title in the hopes of producing a different, younger heir…

“Peeta. You are not teasing our guest already, I hope.”

Gale found himself paralyzed at the sound of her voice. Months now he had dreamt of her and her lovely voice. Now to hear it addressing this man, so familiarly, he could hardly bear it. Of course she must act as required. Still, it stung.

The pain only alleviated a little as he turned at last and noticed an unprecedented pallor to her skin. 

“Lady Mellark,” he managed to say as she came forward and clasped his hands, presenting her cheek for him to rest his against. An old family greeting. He could hardly stand to feel the meager brush of her skin against his when he longed to pull her fully into his arms. But then she was gone, removing her hands even from his grasp. “It has been too long.”

“Far too long, and you are a wretched correspondent,” she declared.

“No worse than you,” he retorted and the other man laughed. 

“She does seem to demand far more in words than she is willing to return,” he said. Katniss turned her face enough to scowl slightly at the man, but he seemed unashamed and unaware of her expression. “But no matter. My lady finds her own means of conveying her thoughts.”

The only advantage to her ire was the flush that rose to Katniss’s cheeks, chasing away the frightening pallor. Perhaps then the man was not so oblivious, Gale considered, but had no chance to delve into deeper strategic observations.

“You must forgive my husband, Gale. He believes himself to be an unparalleled wit,” Katniss declared with a saucy lift to her chin. So then this was in fact Lord Mellark. Young and crippled. Not much better a match than old and crippled. Still, perhaps Gale’s plans could still work. He sensed indeed that Katniss would need them to work.

They sat then, and conversed, covering Gale’s journey and the other required topics. All of it quite banal as tea was served and sipped. Katniss ate but one biscuit, a little surprising given how healthy her appetite had always been, at least to Gale’s knowledge.

He hoped for some time alone with Katniss, to pry further into the particulars of their marriage, so that he might fine tune his strategies for extricating her from what was clearly an unfortunate marriage. He became only more convinced of the need to free Katniss from the odious union when she suggested that she show Gale about the estate, and Lord Mellark intervened.

“My dear, the Colonel has ridden a long way on his journey. Perhaps he might prefer rest. Or perhaps a walk in the gardens.”

“I can manage a ride quite well enough. I am used to long days of difficult work,” Gale countermanded, but Katniss demurred.

“No, my husband is quite right. You should rest before dinner. We shall ride out in the morning instead,” she declared, and Gale could not argue without seeming rude. He bowed in acquiescence but rather than accepting their invitation to walk with them both in the gardens, he declined and retired to his chambers.

Yet he did not rest. Instead, he paced his rooms. At one point, he lingered at his window long enough to catch sight of them returning to the house. Katniss’s dress, he noted, seemed to be stained in several places and her hat trailed by the ribbons behind her. Lord Mellark seemed oblivious to her shocking state and even laughed as she gripped the balustrade before slowly making her way into the house.

Manners be damned, Gale was ready to charge to her room when a servant appeared to inform him that dinner would be served in a half hour.

Thwarted, Gale fumed as he dressed for dinner. He silently fumed as Katniss made awkward attempts to draw him into conversation over dinner and ate little again. Was she ill? What had the bastard husband done to her? Gale wondered as he ate what he would otherwise deem an exquisite meal. The table seemed populated with all his favourite foods, a detail that he noted as a plea from Katniss. A silent reminder that this should have been their marriage table. Not Lord Mellark’s.

She retired early, leaving Gale alone to converse with Lord Mellark in the study. He used the opportunity to study the man as best he could. What little he gleaned only further convinced Gale of the man’s unsuitability to act as Katniss’s husband.

A third born son, not even intended for the title, who had lost his entire family in a tragic fire at one of their older estates while he had been away. 

Third born sons, Gale mentally scoffed, so needless and undesired as to inevitably fall into the dissolute lives of gamblers, wastrels, amoral spendthrifts, and seducers of innocent maidens and opera singers. Gale wondered then if Katniss’s clearly declining health were due to the obvious unhappiness of her marriage or to something more sinister. Perhaps Mellark had infected her with some terrible venereal disease!

The idea gave him pause, but no. His love for Katniss transcended such petty matters. He would not punish her for her husband’s cruelty in inflicting such a disease on her. Gale would love her regardless, passionately even, and in every sense of the word. As soon as they were free of her husband.

Even if a venereal disease were not the culprit, Katniss could not be happy saddled with a crippled husband. Gale knew how she disliked dealing with injuries, suffering from queasiness at the mere discussion of her mother’s skills as a healer. Perhaps this was it then! Of course Katniss was constantly ill around her husband. He was permanently injured and she required to face such an injury each time he demanded his marital rights in her bed.

Gale continued to fume and build a case against her husband. When he spotted Katniss fingering a faintly tarnished trinket hanging on a chain around her neck, he formed the theory that Lord Mellark, as a third son, was ill equipped to handle the fortune entrusted to him. Yes, that must be the reason for the modesty of their home, and the gold locket perhaps the only bit of finery left to Katniss that had not yet been sold to pay for her husband’s debts. 

No matter. Gale would shower her with jewels, if she would have them, once they were free of her husband. If she would accept them, of course. Katniss had always hated the pompousness that came with wealth and the ostentation that seemed to flow from every thread of the lives of the wealthy, and even from their pores.

As the days passed, Gale only became more convinced of the need to free Katniss from her marriage. Because despite all the mounting evidence that Lorn Mellark must be the worst sort of husband for Katniss, and that she must be genuinely miserable in her marriage, Gale could not help but like the man.

Damn his eyes! Lord Mellark projected a character so opposite to what Gale knew he must truly be. The devious man made it nearly impossible to hate him. Until Gale recalled the privileges Lord Mellark enjoyed beneath Katniss’s skirts.

He had his strategy prepared, even allowing for the fact that they would need to make haste to retrieve her sister and mother, in order to protect them from Lord Mellark’s wrath and retribution once he realized Gale had spirited away his wife.

Finally, Katniss’s health seemed to improve, and on a night when she declared herself to be famished and then consumed a prodigious amount of food, Gale decided it was time to enact his plan. He suffered through the after dinner pleasantries, although he did fully enjoy the delights of Katniss’s singing. He’d never known her to have such a sweet, melodious singing voice, and he realized that he had never heard her sing before this night. 

Her voice seemed to take wing and soar about the room, and he was awash in emotion, so overcome that he hardly noticed her husband’s clumsy playing of the pianoforte in accompaniment to her song, nor did he countenance the small gesture of Lord Mellark grasping her hand and lifting it to his mouth for a soft kiss after the song had ended.

Katniss shivered in revulsion, and begged leave to retire shortly afterwards. That was all that mattered to Gale. Tonight, he would go to her and declare himself and his intentions. A sneak attack in her chambers, although he fully expected her to fall weeping into his arms in gratitude.

Perhaps not weeping, he amended as he grimaced and dismissed the servant. He packed his belongings then and waited, tracking the moon’s progress across the sky until the hour when he could be certain Lord Mellark slumbered in his bed.

***

Katniss sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. Her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the reflection in the mirror. On the open door behind her that led to her husband’s rooms. She despised this concession to wealth and nobility in their house. She had in fact been meaning to remedy the odious arrangements of their rooms since they first arrived. But the excitement and anticipation of waiting for him each night had provided a thrilling and diverting distraction for far longer than she had expected. And then the baby. The one she had lost.

She nearly began weeping again thinking of the babe, but no. She lifted her chin and forced herself to appear serene. It would not do to have Peeta see her in tears. He had been delaying this night far longer than she desired, far longer than the doctor had recommended, at first out of concern for her health, and then out of concern for her broken heart.

Tonight, she would wait no more. Peeta would return to her bed or she would march to his room and seduce him. But he would not ignore her summons. Of that she was certain. She had sent him a note. His precious words he always begged from her lips, although he wielded them far better than she ever hoped to do.

Come to my bed, husband, or suffer my wrath come the morning. Love me again.

With all my heart, body, and soul,

Katniss

Perhaps a bit pathetic, but she was desperate. Having Gale in the house only increased her frustration since Peeta seemed overly conscious of setting her childhood friend at ease. He had barely touched her this past fortnight and she was half starved and out of her mind with need for all the small intimacies she’d grown accustomed to receiving from him. That was why she’d nearly combusted and simultaneously melted into a puddle at his feet when he kissed her hand after she sang tonight.

Damn him and his sense of hospitality. She would have him tonight and have him fully. If she moaned loud enough to bring the rafters down on Gale’s head in the guest room down the hall, then so be it.

At last, she saw him filling the doorway, leaning against the frame as he gazed on her, a familiar and achingly welcome heat and longing burning in his blue eyes. She controlled her breathing as best she could, but her heart she could not command. It raced with excitement. With love.

It had taken her far too long to admit it to herself, but once she had, her heart seemed intent on making up for her slow awareness of her emotions, inundating her entire being with passion and love for this man. Even now after months of marriage, she yearned for him.

“You commanded my presence, my lady,” he murmured and Katniss shivered again, this time at the dark intimacy in his voice. The velvety promise in his tone. Her knees shook as she stood and she strode across the room, uncertain she would make it to the bed before she collapsed.

“And you were wise to heed my command, my lord.”

He smiled at her sassy retort and met her there, beside the bed. She stared at his chest, both of them breathing heavily, the air pulsing with anticipation. He leaned his crutch against the bed and cupped her cheeks in his warm, broad palms. She leaned into his touch letting his familiar, beloved scent wash over her.

“Katniss, my love,” he murmured, sounding almost in pain. It satisfied her to know he had felt the denial of their love as deeply as she had. It soothed her irritation at him enough to spur her into action. Katniss lifted her face to his, and rose onto her toes, opening her eyes only for a moment, so that she might see the hungry expression in his blue eyes before their lips met.

***

Gale paused outside the door and smiled to himself. His silent tread, developed through years of hunting beside his father -- a gamesman to a lord -- and then through years as a soldier, had come in useful tonight. He had arrived at Katniss’s chamber door undetected. He pressed his ear to the closed panel. No sounds within, but just as he reached for the door handle, a loud clatter sounded inside followed by a swift curse in a man’s voice and a feminine giggle.

A giggle?

Never in his life had Gale known Katniss to giggle. He pressed his ear more firmly to the seam between the double doors and listened. Silence again. Still, he waited. He could be patient. His quarry lay within and he would not be denied victory this night.

When the clock down the hall began to strike the hour, he used the sound to mask his knock. A mere light rap. Likely not enough to wake Katniss, but he must try the polite approach before he intruded. He reached again for the door handle, but when he pushed down, nothing happened. 

Locked!

Steeling himself, he curled his hand into a fist and prepared to knock again. A little louder this time, he thought, but then a new sound reached his ears. It sounded… yes it sounded like moaning. Was Katniss injured? He tried the handle again to no avail and dropped to his knees. He felt a little foolish using the keyhole to spy on his beloved, but he had little choice. He needed to ascertain the situation before he charged within.

With his ear to the opening, he could hear much more clearly. Katniss was indeed moaning, a desperate and inconsolate sound. But just as he prepared to stand, intending to kick down the door and storm inside, coherent words reached his ear.

“Peeta, my love! Oh!”

Gale froze. The sounds morphed and penetrated his brain at last as Katniss’s moans grew in intensity.

Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne had warmed the beds of many women. Too numerous to count, in fact. And as he knelt before the locked bedchamber door of his beloved Katniss, the sounds within finally coalesced into something truly horrific. His brain knew that it was time for a strategic retreat as he listened to Katniss moan and whimper in ecstasy. But his body would not obey his commands. All he could manage was to turn his head and peer through the keyhole. To spy upon his love and watch in horror as she threw her head back on her pillows, her bosom heaving beneath her askew nightshift and her hands grasping at a head of blonde hair moving between her thighs. At a pair of pale, bare shoulders as he pleasured her with his mouth. The wooden crutch discarded on the floor would reveal her lover’s identity even if the sound of his name falling in sighs off her lips did not.

“Ung! Peeta, please,” she whimpered and writhed and then gasped as her body convulsed.

Still, Gale could not walk away. Not while Katniss smiled and hummed and petted his hair in the aftermath of her passion. Not while he could clearly hear the wet sounds of Lord Mellark dutifully worshipping between his wife’s thighs. Not when Katniss’s breathing evened out and she released a content thigh, opening her eyes as Lord Mellark rose up above her, and her smile widened.

“Now… now I steal your words, husband of mine,” she said and placed one hand on her husband’s chest, deftly pushing him over onto his back. She followed him, straddling his thighs and Gale nearly vomited as he caught sight of Lord Mellark’s disgustingly pleased and clearly besotted face as he gazed up at Katniss.

When she reached for her shift and began to lift it off her body, Gale finally broke himself free of the spell and stood. He stood there, blind but unfortunately not deaf as he stared at the door and attempted to refigure everything he had seen during his visit in this house.

And when the sounds of mutual pleasure within grew too loud to bear, Gale finally forced his feet to obey. He walked away, back to his rooms, his tread disconcertingly loud, but it mattered not. Who could possibly hear his retreat that mattered when his beloved Katniss wailed and sang her pleasure with such unmatched enthusiasm and volume?

[ally1uvsu]

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind. / Choi su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu.

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Series .⠀›⠀Trans Namgyu Week 2025⠀‎ꪆৎ day 1; gentle sex/praise

·⠀warnings info⠀· NSFW — . wc; 8.7k (good luck)

summary; Thanos’ life was boring, etiquette, classes, politics, as the heir of the throne his routine was the same for almost twenty one years. Never once had he considered marriage until his father had the idea to set him up with the princess of a nearby kingdom for an alliance. But maybe it wasn’t so bad after all when he got to know her brother, that intrigued him more than anything.

info; Ooc Thanos (DEFO), Alternative Universe - Kingdom, he's slightly more depressed but still a druggie, But tbh I think thats how he acts when sober, Formal language used, But they all (young ones) know how to use improper language, Namgyu is Mi-na's adoptive brother, trans namgyu, Trans Male Character, Love at First Sight, Semi-Public Sex, Mina and Thanos r lowk besties, Eventual Smut, pure filth, Mina is the #1 thagyu shipper, Penis In Vagina Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, It's sweet tho, Praise, Bottom Namgyu, Top Thanos, Love Bites, Smoking, Mentions of drugs, Sex on a treehouse while it rains, Missionary Position, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Creampie, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, slightly pathetic Thanos, but he's also way more pathetic during sex, Begging because we love pathetic men, Softdom Thanos, Thanos Is Whipped, They're both lowk soft in this, Thanos POV, This is probably more of a sober Thanos char study, But still filthy imo, Thanos has grey-blue eyes ide what y'all say, Gentle Sex, Scars, Unsafe Sex, They're so stupid bro they're going to get pregnant, Sober thagyu!!!

notes; I recommend you all listen to willow (by taylor swift) while reading this ngl, it’s a vibe 🙏🙏 but gen, I hope y’all like this cuz I poured my soul into it 😭😭 also this is a little series I posted on ao3 and decided to post here!! Feel free to check it either here or there, it’s the same nametag<3

Learn about politics, carry on with your duties, listen to your father and mother lecture you, worry about ruling a kingdom, learning proper etiquette.. that was all part of Thanos' day.

To be fair, he didn't care anymore. He was burnt out, practically dragging himself to his duties, the only reason he did so was because he was high most of the time.

It was no wonder the young Prince began acting like such a rebel. His parents were pissed, sure. But did Thanos care? No.

Hell, he became as rebellious as he could. Dying his hair purple, acting all quirky and showing/expressing how he felt out loud, smoking, drinking.. and not even going by su-bong anymore.

His family didn't have a choice, though. Being an only child meant Thanos one way or another would inherit the throne, he would become a king someday and would have to watch over his people.

With a queen. That, speaking of which, his father has been looking for insanely. Thanos didn't get the fuzz of it, he didn't want to get it, no, not at all. It wasn't that Thanos didn't like women, quite frankly, he liked both as long as they fit his standards that weren't that high either.

The poor man just didn't want to be added into another pile of troubles, moreover of marrying a woman he didn't even know for business. But Thanos didn't have a choice, even if he was destined for the throne, his father was still the king and made the choices.

So, his father did the most logical thing ever, arrange a royal dinner for him to meet up with his future wife.

This was boring, he thought as he walked past the numerous doors in the castle. Head casted low and jaw set in slight frustration, it was around afternoon. He had to get ready soon, but God help him, Thanos didn't have the slightest bit of motivation.

But either way, he still went inside his room where the servants waited. They dressed him in one of his finest suits, expensive pieces of clothing that albeit expensive and fancy were nothing short of unnecessary.

They fixed his hair, not in a way Thanos normally wore but in a more neat way, it shouldn't have bothered Thanos as much as it did but hell, he preferred the way he messily adjusted his hair better.

And finally, lastly, he sprayed on some expensive cologne. It was one of the smells he didn't find repugnant, most of the overly priced perfumes the royal palace was packed with gave him a huge headache. This one was his favorite one, neutral and yet perceptible. Not too sweet, not too bland.

The sun casted golden lights throughout the floor of his bedroom, and the servants slowly but surely retreated, Thanos didn't even had to ask twice. Growing up for twenty years in the same room and same place with the same people- well, the ones that didn't get fired, at least. Made most of the servants know Thanos liked to be alone at times like this.

Getting out of the fixation he had with his eyes locked to a point on the wall, Thanos began rummaging through one of his drawers, the drawer of the nightstand that was kept right next to his bed.

Pulling a string at the very bottom of the drawer, he lifted it to find a hidden counterpart where he mostly kept a few drugs he managed to sneak into the castle. But today, since he couldn't really get high, he reached for the cigarette pack instead.

Alongside that, he grabbed a lighter. Feeling the familiar weight of it right on his back pocket, maybe he could take a smoke before dinner, the smell of it would just be masked by the ungodly amount of alcohol they'd be serving for the banquet.

So, instead of staying in the balcony where his father or mother were more prone to find him, Thanos walked out of his room.

Step by step, his chest grew heavier. He didn't want to do this, his parents couldn't care less about how he felt, it had been like this ever since he turned sixteen.

His fingers itched, maybe to cut into the already scarred skin he grew to be familiar with overtime. But instead, he dug his nails into his palms, the familiar stinging sensation bringing a weird sense of comfort to his heart, that felt somewhat lighter.

He snuck through the back door, footsteps as light as he could manage to get them in these shoes. He was greeted by a warm breeze, and the sight of all the trees that were planted in the back of the castle, which led to a small clearing.

He hadn't gone there since.. fuck, since he was eighteen. He remembered exactly all too well how and why he never went there anymore.

-

"Hey! Come on, don't be a slowpoke." A familiar voice rang onto his ears, and then he remembered another girl running towards the same clearing. She was a peasant, daughter of one of the servants in the palace.

His feet were moving as fast as they could manage to, lungs hurting and heart thumping oh so loudly in his ears, Thanos once again felt like he was fifteen and hopelessly in love with the girl.

He giggled, and as they ran through the trees of the clearing behind the castle, they stumbled upon a treehouse. It was a little old, sure, but it could manage.

They made memories in there, year after year, every spring until towards the very end of summer, Thanos and her would be meeting in that same treehouse.

It became his safe space, one he never would expect to become such a hollow place in his heart.

And yet, it did.

One certain morning, Thanos was up and about the castle, looking for her. Nearing the entrance of the palace where she normally stayed to read, he froze as he found her and her mother departing from the palace, bags in hands. She looked over her shoulder, sadness and perhaps even sorrow etched into her features.

Thanos wanted to reach out, to run and grasp her, to make her stay, tell her everything he always wanted to tell her.

But a familiar pair of arms that always made him feel sick to his stomach held him back. 'I don't want a son of mines to be involved with someone out of royalty.' His father said, and ever since then, the little joy Thanos had in his life was just dull. Thanos never went back to that clearing that they claimed as theirs ever again.

Before he even realized, his feet were planted right outside of that same treehouse. Thanos let out a shaky breath, looking down at his feet as if he could still hear and imagine all too well their giggles of joy.

-

Before he could second guess himself, Thanos was climbing up the old ladder carefully. Situating himself nearby the door, leaning against it as he closed his eyes. A long sigh left him as his now half-lidded eyes looked inside the treehouse.

Thanos had no strength whatsoever to look inside, he'd feel more drained than ever if he did. So he decided to just take a smoke before the sun dipped below the horizon, knowing it would be time to leave for that godforsaken banquet when it did.

He reached for a single cigarette, fingers dabbing the edge of the lighter until it turned on, then, he placed the butt of the cigarette against the flame. Watching it catch fire, and then the lighter was back in his pocket.

He brought the cigarette to his mouth, head falling against the edge of the entrance of that treehouse. Taking a long drag, he could feel the smoke everywhere, soothing and relaxing his brain as he closed his eyes.

His fingers then reached for the stick, pulling it out of his lips as he puffed the smoke out.

He wished this was different, he thought. Maybe in another universe he'd be just another peasant, in another universe he wouldn't have to worry about the lives of people in a kingdom, and most importantly- he could love whoever the fuck he wanted.

Again, Thanos was lost in that loophole of thoughts. Only truly snapping out of it when he felt a burn against his skin, earning a hiss from him. He looked at the butt of the cigarette who had accidentally pressed itself against his skin, and then he noticed it left a little mark on his sleeve. Whatever.

He threw the cigarette somewhere inside the treehouse, deciding it was maybe time to go back inside.

He followed the same familiar way, purposely taking longer than he usually did. Basically dragging his feet as he walked towards the dining room.

He dreaded that place, he hated everyone in there. And he hated the girl that was possibly going to be his future wife.

His parents looked frantic as they finally spotted him, Thanos had to hold back a scowl. "— oh Jesus, where were you?! We were so worried you wouldn't show up, what even took you that long?" His mother said as she searched his face, Thanos only forced out a small smile.

"You made the right choice in coming, we all know that." His father said, voice in a low tone and authoritative as always. He looked at Thanos up and down, and then landed on the cigarette burn on his sleeve. His mother did the same, and she gasped.

"Su-bong! Were you smoking again? Aish, you know you have to be perfect! How will the lady take a liking to you like this?!" The woman said as she swatted on his sleeve, attempting to undo the harm caused to the fabric.

"Mom, it'll be fine— I.. I'll make sure to get along with her, okay?" Thanos shook his head, throat forming in a lump as he forced out a smile.

Surprisingly, his mom bought it. And he was met with her proud and bright smile as she beamed, exclaiming praises to him like her words many times were the exact opposite.

Their attention was dragged to the signals of the guards, a sign that the other family of royals had finally arrived. Thanos took a deep breath, controlling the urge to itch and scratch at his skin since he didn't have anything else.

A forced polite smile found its way to his lips as people began to flood inside the palace, face after face that Thanos didn't even bother memorizing, after all he was only here because of the princess he was supposed to marry.

And then, lastly, after so many unimportant people, came the princess and her family. Thanos caught the eye of a young man that intrigued him, wearing a navy suit and rushing past the doors not bothering with formality, maybe he was just forced to be here.

Thanos politely bowed before Mi-na, taking her hand and pressing her knuckles to his lips. She smiled at him, but between them, it all felt too fake. And despite only knowing each other for seconds, she seemed to know it, too.

"It is a pleasure to see you here, my lady." Thanos said as smoothly and gently as he could as he straightened up. "The pleasure is mines." She said with a returned smile, "Well, then shall we?" And with the nod of her head, Thanos took her arm and looped it around his, both of them walking in measured steps in their uncomfortable and unnecessary pieces of clothing towards the huge table where dinner would be served.

It doesn't take them that long to get there, given the sheer distance of the entrance to the dining room, and it leaves him room to fall back into his old habits of doing...well, nothing. He glances at the gardens outside the large windows, the darkness basically coating almost everything. Vividly recalling the smell of lilacs the beautiful royal guard posed. He looks at his feet and notices the lack of noise they make against the carpeted floors. He stares at the walls, taking note of the same patterns he's seen for basically his entire life.

And then, finally, big doors swing open to reveal the dining room. Loud chatter of people talking about politics or completely useful shit reach both of their ears, flowers mixing with each other every ten inches across the table in their assigned pots.

Everything was neatly set down, from plates, to the forks sitting there. This all feels way too overwhelming for Thanos, but he doesn't have the option to back down, not exactly- at least.

And then he hears his name being called, Mi-na's voice snapping him back to reality. Remembering he should be focused on Mi-na, his future wife all the time. "We should sit nearby our parents, shouldn't we?" The sweetness in her voice nearly intoxicated him, and Thanos had to control himself not to gag. "Sure, indeed we should."

And then Thanos was pulling the chair for her, once she was sat down and accommodated, he pushed the chair back against the table, not too far or too close. And finally, he sat down.

"Oh, don't they make a lovely pair?" A voice said before they even could get too awkward, it was Mi-na's mother. "Ah, thank you, your majesty. But I'm afraid nothing can beat how much of a beautiful couple you and your husband make. It is no wonder your daughter is just as beautiful as your union."

Thanos wasn't sure when he began to get polite or poetic, but frankly? He was just going with the flow, doing whatever he needed to be done, done.

"What a lovely young man you have raised, Soo-ah! Oh, I just know they'll get along so well. And not only that, it will be a huge benefit to both kingdoms!" Said Mi-na's mother, their fathers, on the other hand were too focused talking politics.

Dinner was served not too long after, everything looked delicious, many of them were eating as much as they could. Thanos, on the other hand couldn't seem to have an appetite. Every bite felt like a chunk of stale bread going down his throat, but he forced everything down, nobody could and should know.

The air felt far too suffocating, but lucky to him, Mi-na finally spoke up. "Mother, is it okay if me and Su-bong retreat somewhere.. quieter to chat? I'm afraid I can barely hear him."

Mi-na was sly, she knew her mom nor Thanos' mom or anyone really, was paying attention to if they had been talking or not. She was met with a permission to do so and a huge smile of her mother, as she tugged Thanos away by the arm, she could hear her excited but yet still calm and serene squeals of joy.

Stepping outside to the courtyard, both of them felt like they could finally breathe, that was much visible.

Mi-na barely knew the garden of this palace, but she still followed wherever her mind suggested her to go and ended up finding a small bench nearby a fountain, with the view to the window that gave them a look from the inside.

Thanos felt the silence grow awkward and suffocating, despite the new cold breeze hitting his face. Since Thanos didn't look like he was about to speak, Mi-na did first. "You don't look so pleased with this." It was stated almost matter of factly, was he seriously that easy to read?

Thanos only hummed in response, nevertheless. She could take it however she interpreted it. "Look, I'm not the happiest either, even if I look like it." Thanos' head perked up at that, brows furrowing. Normally, most girls would be dying to throw themselves in his arms.

As if sensing his confusion, Mi-na decided to just spill the beans. If she was truly destined to marry this man, the least she could do was tell him something very important about her, right? And if he didn't like it, well.. he'd have to get over it. "I'm a lesbian."

Thanos nearly choked on spit, eyes wide. And Mi-na burst out laughing, was it really THAT unbelievable?

"Wait- wait! You like girls?! Then why are you into the whole arranged marriage thing?" Thanos' mouth gaped open, he looked fucking stupid.

Mi-na, who was still recovering from her laughing fit, wiped invisible tears from the corner of her eyes as she smiled. "Fuck, you should have seen your face!" She said as she laughed just a bit more, recomposing herself. "I didn't have a choice, that's the thing. The economy in our kingdom is shit and we needed to join kingdoms with another to expand territory, which would be a benefit added to your kingdom, and then the economy part is better for us."

Mi-na explained, a mischievous smile finding its way into her lips. "Plus, there's one of the knights back home that I can't lie, she's nothing short of breathtaking." Mi-na had her eyes set on Se-mi, the aloof

Thanos thought he was doomed, but shit, a lesbian? Not that he had anything against them, Thanos himself knew he was bi, despite never trying anything with a dude. He just.. knew.

"And I thought I was the only one uncomfortable." Thanos snorted playfully, finally being able to properly breathe and use humor. "No, I swear to you, I was dreading coming here." Mi-na replied.

"Don't you have anyone, tho? Like, some sort of prohibited romance or anything?" Mi-na asked curiously, and Thanos stayed quiet.

Instead of holding her gaze, his eyes locked towards the window. Watching the blur of colors and people move inside, the chatter was still heard but not as loud. And then, his eyes locked into a young man- the same young man he saw enter the palace before.

For a second, Thanos was starstruck. His lips parted as he observed him up and down, his jaw nearly going slack. He was gorgeous, fuck, yes he was. His hair went down to the back of his skull, pin straight, with bangs tucked neatly behind his ears. His face was.. shit, his face was the most beautiful one Thanos had ever seen.

And when he finally caught a glimpse of his eyes, eyes that made him look almost like a cat, Thanos swore he forgot all about the girl he constantly was sad over.

But, he snapped out of it when Mi-na began snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Hello? Earth to Su-bong? Jeez, you made me talk all by myself, were you even listening?" She said a tad annoyedly.

"Who is he?" Thanos finally managed the words out, his mind snapped the perfect picture of the raven haired man, and he probably wouldn't be able to get it out anytime soon.

Mi-na looked shocked for a second, and then she began laughing ever harder. "You mean my brother? Pfft, do you even have a taste at all? He looks like a fucking wet rat!" Mi-na exclaimed between laughter, and Thanos despite knowing he shouldn't, felt the tip of his ears grow hot.

"Hey! Instead of judging me, can you at least tell me his name?" Thanos huffed, crossing his arms. "It's Nam-gyu, Roh Nam-gyu. The knights found him crying by his parents' body when he was a kid in a battlefield during war years ago, and we took him in. Hell, it's been eighteen excruciating years with him, we developed a sibling bond either way."

Now Thanos felt slightly guilty, he pitied himself sometimes even if it wasn't much- but Nam-gyu had lost his parents. "Oh, damn.." Thanos mumbled, and shook his head, not wanting to dampen the mood.

"You have a thing for him? I can set you guys up!" Mi-na said almost excited, practically formulating plans in her mind already.

"Hell yeah." Thanos blurted our, not expecting her to take it THAT seriously, but it wasn't like Thanos would mind being set up with him. "I'll do it! Don't worry, you're in good hands, oh my god finally that rat will have someone!" Mi-na squealed, clapping her hands excitedly.

And then, the sounds of footsteps faintly away were heard, and both of them were surprisingly quick to recompose themselves. "Your highnesses, my apologies for the interruption. But your parents, both of them, request the two of you inside."

One of the maids said quite gently, a gentle and warm smile gracing her old features as she retreated upon completing her mission, which was to deliver the message.

Thanos eyed Mi-na, who merely nodded as with a heavy and tired sigh, they looped their arms together and got ready to face the reality of the situation. She was a princess, he was a prince. No amount of acceptance over each other would ever change that fact.

They both sat down in their designed spots, Thanos assumed it wasn't that bad since the chatter decreased continuously. "My friends, thank you all for being present here today!.."

Thanos just zoned out, not caring if it was important or not.

He thought life was just boring, wake up, get dressed, eat, etiquette lessons, school lessons, read, read some more, get in dinner attire, eat with family, go to the golden cage that is his bedroom, fall asleep and repeat that again the next day and do that for almost 21 years.

Even if Mi-na got it, again, they'd still have to get married and accept their roles as king and queen of the nation.

With all his thoughts jumbling up into a mess in his head, Thanos focused on a point somewhere in the hallway. It was something out of habit he got whenever his father lectured him when he was too drunk, or when he started speaking crap. The royal family wasn't as kind and merciful as it seemed.

Even if he tuned out the sounds of his father speaking, his ears picked the faintest sounds of rain clattering against the windows, light at first, and then heavy. In his transfixed gaze, he managed to see a familiar silhouette wearing a navy blue suit sneak into the hallway and beginning to fast walk away.

Thanos recognized that as Nam-gyu.

He tapped Mi-na's thigh, and Mi-na got the hint. She pinched his thigh as a sign for him to go, and Thanos excused himself with a saying that it was an urgent matter.

While leaving, he managed to hear his father say that due to the weather conditions that were prone to only worsen, all of the guests would have a room in the palace to rest until it was safe to carry on to a trip back home.

Thanos however, was too focused on quietly trailing after the mysterious raven haired man that moved quietly but quickly through the oh so familiar halls of the castle.

Thanos couldn't exactly explain what attracted him so much to Nam-gyu rather than how fucking handsome he was. Nam-gyu looked rough on the surface, and yet easy to read- to cut through his story like a knife.

And yet, Thanos probably wouldn't know from the look on his face, judging by how stoic Nam-gyu looked albeit often using humor and sarcasm when talking to others.

But then again, Thanos would like to lose himself in that current of mysteries Nam-gyu looked like he was, like a mere cheap and priceless wine. The way Nam-gyu moved, how secretive he was.. it was as if he was begging for someone to follow him.

And Thanos would gladly do so, hell, his normally bland and hollow life was begging for Nam-gyu to take his hand and wreck all of the plans his father ever had planned for him.

After what felt like an eternity walking through the hallways full of paintings of unfamiliar faces and landscapes, he finally reached the back door. It was slightly ajar, did Nam-gyu know he was being followed? The thought made a slight pit of anxiety and excitement begin to grow in his stomach, a question, though, ran through his mind; what was Nam-gyu doing outside in the rain?

Before he could even second guess himself, he was stepping out. Feeling the raindrops fall and clatter against his clothing, wetting the fabric, his hair, his shoes.. basically everything.

And Nam-gyu was standing right in the entrance of the clearing, back to Thanos. How the hell could someone be so fast? Thanos wouldn't pry, his curiosity and desire to know Nam-gyu overpowered any of his side quest questions.

With slow, measured and tentative steps above the soil that slowly began to squelch under his expensive shoes, he finally reached Nam-gyu. Neither of them spoke, and for a second, Thanos began to believe it was a bad idea following after the other.

But Nam-gyu simply chuckled, turning his head to the side to meet Thanos' gaze. "You're not as quiet as you think you are, dude." Nam-gyu said, patting Thanos' gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be with Mi-na? I mean, you're getting married to her."

Thanos just shrugged, and began walking ahead. To his surprise, Nam-gyu followed. "I'm not fond of the idea to marrying her, don't get me wrong, she's cool. But one, she's a lesbian, and two, I don't think I'm ready." Thanos said briefly, following the path to the treehouse where they could privately talk rather than being listened to if they went back inside the palace.

"Oh, she told you? Damn, you must be pretty chill for her to tell you on the first day." Nam-gyu said without really questioning where they were going, he didn't mind how the rain was getting him all wet but he preferred to talk somewhere where they weren't getting soaked.

"Yeah.. she told me she's in love with some knight back to where you both live." Thanos said curtly but not totally humorless, not minding details as he began going up the ladder, and suddenly he was fucking glad that he had the roof and walls padded to keep the place intact ever since his old childhood crush left, they wouldn't get wet.. even if their clothes were nearly soaking due to the heavy rain.

Soon enough, both men were in a comfortable silence, sitting down on the floor of the old but familiar treehouse, at least to Thanos.

And then, he remembered. Reaching for the wood counter the treehouse contained, Thanos pulled out the cigarette pack and lighter he previously had left here before going down to dinner.

But he was no asshole, so of course, he offered one to Nam-gyu. "You want one?" He asked before lighting one stick up and holding it between his lips. "Hell yeah." The reply made Thanos grin, Nam-gyu was far more fun than Thanos called him out for in the beginning.

So, he lit another stick and handed it to Nam-gyu. Sitting next to him with his legs sprawled. The room fell into silence once again, the only sounds were the heavy rain clattering against the hard wood of the treehouse, the squelching of their shoes whenever one of them moved, and the soft puffs of the cigarettes.

"Isn't it too burdening? I mean, being the heir to the throne and all." Nam-gyu finally asked, and Thanos was taken aback. Nobody ever bothered to ask anything about that, not even if Thanos was fine. But he didn't lie, surprisingly he didn't feel the urge to do so. "It is, and honestly, if I could? I would get out of royalty. Be someone normal, I hate this formal shit and etiquette, I wish I could be more free, y'know?"

Thanos said quickly, basically rambling out what had been kept inside his chest for so long. He sighed, slumping his shoulders. Nam-gyu didn't seem to mind, not at all. Instead, the other man only patted his shoulder in an act of comfort.

"I'm sorry, man. It was never your choice, but hey, at least Mi-na isn't that bad despite calling me a wet rat." Nam-gyu let out a laugh that was half humorless half genuine. Matter of fact, he did look like he had a great sibling bond with Mi-na, just like she previously had mentioned.

Thanos looked to the side, meeting Nam-gyu's gaze. And once again, his lips parted upon staring into those eyes shaped almost like a cat's, Nam-gyu had the most beautiful black eyes Thanos ever has seen.

He didn't reply whatsoever, he was transfixed into those warm and dark orbs, and Nam-gyu stared back, right into his own grey eyes. It was involuntary how he looked down at Nam-gyu's lips and back to his eyes, and even more so when Nam-gyu did the same.

Thanos was fed up- deciding screw it, he couldn't be miserable forever, could he?

With the consent that Nam-gyu was on the same page as him, Thanos tilted his head to the side slightly and kissed him. It felt good, the blood rushed from his veins in a rapid pace and making his heart thump in his ears.

He felt teeth sink into his bottom lip, making him moan and open his mouth. Both of their tongues fought for dominance and yet danced in a beautiful symphony, and Thanos felt weirdly alive. His life was nothing but a willow, and it bent right into Nam-gyu's wind.

He felt hands, long fingers, dig into his scalp. His hands instinctively gripped Nam-gyu's hips, leaning forward slightly as they kept up their little make out session.

The cigarettes were long forgotten on the floor, already put out. That fire was out, but another was ignited within them both.

The lack of air made them separate, both chests heaved as their lungs worked to suck in as much as they could. Thanos stared at Nam-gyu, how his lips got all wet and red, and he didn't even give him time to breathe, he leaned in for another kiss. Kind of desperate, sloppy even. But the two of them were too comfortable to care.

Nam-gyu was the one to break the kiss, this time. Looking at Thanos in the eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this, you'll likely be engaged to my sister." Nam-gyu panted, and yet still gave Thanos a chaste kiss. They exchanged kisses between words, their actions in themselves were a whole contradiction. "She's a lesbian, and I want you. We both know this is for the greater good of both kingdoms." Thanos uttered back, and none of them touched the topic again as their lips clashed together, this time in a far more softer and romantic symphony.

Thanos traced his kisses downwards, kissing the corner of Nam-gyu's lips, his jaw, peppering gentle kisses there. And then finally, he connected them to Nam-gyu's neck. Thanos wasn't stupid to leave prominent marks, the marks he sucked on the other's neck was close to the juncture of his shoulders, descending to his collarbones as he unbuttoned his undershirt, all while Nam-gyu let out pants and moans here and there. Thanos found that to be the most beautiful sound ever.

His hands never really stayed still, either. One of them slid under the wet fabric of Nam-gyu's wet vest and undershirt, caressing the skin there gently. He pulled his lips back from Nam-gyu's collarbone to kiss the other again, it was something Thanos began growing fond of. Nam-gyu's lips were warm against his, so full of life and comforting.. it just felt right.

Thanos fingers' nimbly worked on Nam-gyu's vest and white undershirt, exposing inch by inch of wet skin caused by the rain, and yet, on the last button, Nam-gyu held his wrist. "Wait."

So Thanos waited, everything to make this as comfortable as he could for both of them if they really were going to do this. "You should know something, I'm not sure if you're okay with it but it's.. y'know, whatever." Nam-gyu didn't really know a better way to name it, so he just stuck to what he normally would say in awkward topics. Nam-gyu took a deep breath as the other watched, lips pursing and then finally, he let it out. "I don't.. have a thing, y'know? I'm transgender."

Thanos' mind was conflicted for a little, but can you blame him? He only grew up with the basic terms. Lesbian? Sure, two women who like each other, Gay? Two men who like each other. Bi? Liking both genders, but transgender?

Judging by how Nam-gyu said he didn't have a dick, though. Thanos guessed transgender people went by the opposite gender they were born as, and Thanos found that he didn't care. Which in return, made him realize he didn't want only Nam-gyu's body, because he didn't care however he looked. He just wondered how people in his kingdom accepted him, being the prince and all that.. it was likely he was already like this when he was found and nobody knew, but maybe he was open about it.

"Only Mi-na knows, she helps me when it's.. important days, but it's fine if you don't want to keep going, I get it—" Nam-gyu began again, looking a tad nervous to say so at least.

"I still want you." Thanos chimed in before Nam-gyu could get too nervous, and then he was unbuttoning the rest of Nam-gyu's wet undershirt. He swore he saw a huge look of surprise and maybe even joy cross Nam-gyu's face, it made him feel good. But he wouldn't press on it, too focused on the goal.

Nam-gyu was like a painting, the prince thought. Every piece of him was pure art, admiring and stripping him like this felt like observing an exquisite work of art. If Nam-gyu was one in a literal way, Thanos wouldn't mind wasting too much money on him. He would be one of the few far too overpriced stuff he'd buy in the blink of an eye.

Thanos saw scars, that's the first thing he noticed. He guessed these were from when he was younger, from the times in war. And then, he had two scars just below his chest. Thanos guessed he got it removed at some point, Nam-gyu always seemed to find a way to things, and that fascinated Thanos.

"You're so beautiful." Thanos uttered, thumb running over a few of the scars so gently he swore he could see goosebumps rise on Nam-gyu's skin. "Idiot, just get to the point, you're seriously making me throb." Nam-gyu hissed, sounding really more needy than annoyed or pissed.

"Someone's eager." Thanos teased, and yet didn't waste time to slip one of his hands down Nam-gyu's pants without really giving a warning, he chased Nam-gyu's lips, feeling the other being way more than hapy to comply.

His hand however, dipped inside Nam-gyu's boxers, and was surprised to find that Nam-gyu wasn't joking when he meant he needed it. He was practically dripping, hell, ‘I think I love you’ was the first thing passing Thanos' mind.

Two of his fingers found his clit, pressing down on it and rubbing slow, measured circles that were just enough to drag pleasured moans out of Nam-gyu, who was finally getting what he wanted.

The stimulation, albeit not much, was relieving. Considering how much he had been throbbing just from some sweet words.. Nam-gyu was fucking filthy for it but could you blame him? Not really.

"Shit.. yeah— like that." He said in a mix between a moan and a hiss between his gritted teeth, head throwing back in another moan that was muffled by the heavy rain outside when finally, he felt a finger dip inside of him. It took all of his possible willpower to not grind down against it, he never noticed initially how long Thanos' fingers actually were, but feeling it right now? Nam-gyu would think his fingers were enough to get him off perfectly.

Thanos slowly moved that finger in and out, swapping the same finger that had been on Nam-gyu's clit for his thumb, drawing moan per moan from the other. Once he was completely sure he was okay with just one finger, he slid another in. This time, he actually felt Nam-gyu clench around them, not being able to stop the string of moans falling from his lips.

"Shit, you're so wet— are you always this responsive?" Thanos was almost mesmerized by the man below him; and Nam-gyu relished in the attention. Feeling Thanos scissor him open while still genuinely fucking him in his fingers. "Not for many." Nam-gyu replied and Thanos' heart stuttered, a stupid grin finding its way to his lips.

Fueled by those words, he swapped from just prying him open to actually drawing out Nam-gyu's pleasure with his fingers solely. Driving his fingers up fast, and Nam-gyu nearly saw stars when Thanos was quick to find that certain spongy spot inside of him. If the rain wasn't enough to keep him quiet, the way Thanos began kissing him like he was starving for this would be more than enough.

The sounds of squelching every time his fingers move didn't go by unnoticed between their sessions of heated kisses, Thanos groaned against Nam-gyu's lips. Thanos was genuinely surprised on how wet Nam-gyu was and they barely had done anything much.

Thanos genuinely couldn't keep his mouth off of Nam-gyu, as soon as the kiss ended, his mouth was in one of his nipples. Tongue latching on it in a complete different pace from how his fingers moved, he was so transfixed he almost didn't get Nam-gyu's words. He mainly only got it because of how sweetly Nam-gyu moaned his name out, and Thanos swore he could faint. "Su-bong— oh, fuck! G-go faster, ah—"

"You're an angel." Thanos blurted out before he could stop himself, Nam-gyu seemed taken aback, but it didn't last long as Thanos indulged in his request. The pressure on his clit became harsher, constant, too. His fingers were fucking inside of him so well Nam-gyu couldn't stay fucking quiet. His eyes shut tight, thighs squirming and almost nearly clenching as he felt a warm coil in his core, bringing him closer and closer and closer until it snapped.

"Su-bong, oh- shit, oh my god!— I'm.." His words were like his state, messy. Messy as he threw his head back with moans he couldn't hold back, Thanos moaned against Nam-gyu's neck as he kept fucking his fingers into the other while he came, almost desperate to drag out any pleasure he could from him. Only truly slowing down to a stop when Nam-gyu was merely fluttering around his fingers.

Nam-gyu was panting, his stomach was full of butterflies and he felt alive. He whined as he felt Thanos slip his fingers out, he just had one of the best orgasms of his life but Nam-gyu was known for being a greedy man. He needed more. "Su-bong—" "I've got you."

Nam-gyu didn't even have time to express his needs, Thanos was already working on his pants and pulling them down alongside his boxers. The cold air hit his wet skin, but it was surprisingly warm despite the breeze making him slightly cold.

Thanos admired Nam-gyu like a fine piece of art, and Nam-gyu couldn't help but feel his ears flush. He wasn't used to this. "Asshole, stop looking at me with those eyes." But Nam-gyu enjoyed the attention.

"Well, what can I say? It's not everyday someone who looks like an angel is naked on my treehouse." Thanos said teasingly but he meant it. He really did. "Just fuck me." Nam-gyu whined, and if those words don't make Thanos groan, heat pulsating through him, then it's the way Nam-gyu's looking at him that does it. Eyes wet with unshed tears, face flushed and chest heaving, he's a vision, a plea written all over his face, and Thanos would be damned if he didn't indulge in what he wanted.

Thanos worked off his clothing that clung to his skin insistingly, every piece discarded somewhere on the floor, at least they could try to dry. Nam-gyu's lips parted, Thanos wasn't huge but hell, he was big. And he wanted him- no. He needed him, he probably would die (which is just him being dramatic) if he had to wait any longer when he swore he was so horny it was affecting the way he was thinking. "Come on, please."

"You're so impatient." Thanos said, almost amused. A shaky sigh leaving his lips as he stroked himself a few times before kneeling in front of Nam-gyu. His hands gently spread his thighs apart, to which the other complied. Gathering slick and Nam-gyu's release with the tip of his dick, Thanos had to really hold back to not cum just from the sight of Nam-gyu. He looked absolutely blissed out. "Su-bo—" Before Nam-gyu even had time to protest, Thanos slid the tip in, a moan leaving both of them at the sudden but not unwelcome sensation.

Thanos' hands held Nam-gyu's hips, grounding him down as he tried to genuinely have any sort of control over himself. The way Nam-gyu moaned and panted was doing absolutely no good for him, but he kept going nevertheless.

He began moving in slow, gentle thrusts. Not to move but to ease himself in, each inch sunken down to Nam-gyu's cunt just made him feel weirdly stuffed, so full, but full in a good way.

The air was filled with labored breathing and moans from both sides as Thanos kept sliding himself in, and then finally, he bottomed out.

Thanos felt like he could finally breathe, and if he thought he looked bad, hell, Nam-gyu looked completely out of it.

His eyes were screwed shut, his lips swollen from the making out session they had few minutes ago, hickeys bloomed on his neck where it was easy to hide. He was flushed, and he looked so fucking blissed out, genuinely happy, Thanos would say.

"Shit.. Su-bong, you're in so deep." Nam-gyu moaned, he could feel how his body naturally put the effort to accommodate around the other's dick, but either way, he felt stuffed. Not too much, not too little, he felt stuffed to the brim but yet not enough to push him over the breaking point. "I know, just breathe f'me okay? Relax." Thanos murmured, littering kisses over Nam-gyu's face. He felt corny, but honestly? It felt right, and whatever felt right and good, he'd do it.

"Please." Was all Nam-gyu ever needed to say to have Thanos moving.

He set for a slow pace, and yet it was also deep. Each drag of his cock along Nam-gyu's gummy walls felt heavenly, he could do this forever. Have Nam-gyu around him forever, shit, he'd probably go against his father if it meant having Nam-gyu like this, underneath him and blissed out anytime they both wanted.

Nam-gyu's head lolled back against the floor, not having anywhere to grab, he opted for Thanos's shoulders, gripping either sides in a strong grip to have some leverage for himself. "Please- please go faster, I'll lose my fucking mind—"

Nam-gyu was surprised as Thanos complied with his request quickly, maybe far too quickly but he couldn’t care less. He swore he felt his eyes rolling back, endless moans and pleas falling from his lips even if he wasn’t aware of what he was begging for.

“Look at you, taking it so well, hm?” Thanos said with that stupid grin on his face, but in reality, he was really just overwhelmed by the whole situation. In a good way, of course.

“You’re so desperate, how long has it even been for you?” Thanos said as he hooked one arm under Nam-gyu’s knee, throwing it over his shoulder and if Nam-gyu thought he couldn’t go any deeper, with how he was arranged right now Thanos actually managed to push further. Stars burst from behind his eyelids, nails scraping Thanos’ shoulders, “What would they think? The princess’ brother getting his needy pussy filled by the man his sister is supposed to marry, how do you think they’d react?”

Thanos whispered these words onto Nam-gyu’s ear, and he knew he wasn’t going overboard, not with how Nam-gyu clenched around him with every word. “I bet you’d like them to know, wouldn’t you?” Thanos said with a smirk, he wasn’t sure how he was managing to control himself so well, it took all of his willpower, really. The second he was in, he had to hold back to not cum right that instant.

Nam-gyu nodded, hell yes he’d like them to know. “Yes, yes—” He moaned, everything overwhelmed his senses, from how deep Thanos fucked into him, to how he felt close to another orgasm, to Thanos’ words.. it all made a heady cocktail in his brain that was nearly bordering too much.

“It’s okay, though. Because you look handsome during it.” Thanos uttered, leaving kisses all over Nam-gyu’s neck.

Nam-gyu wrapped his leg that wasn’t over Thanos’ shoulder around his hip, pulling him flush against himself. Nam-gyu felt as if he was being pounded into next week, but did he mind that? Not at all. He felt so close, just a little bit more and he’d cum— “Su-bong.. please, I wanna cum, please.” He whined, really the only sentence he managed to properly say since Thanos slid inside.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Thanos mumbled, one of his hands reaching for Nam-gyu’s clit. Two of his fingers rubbing and circling it in the same pace, or almost the same pace, he fucked himself into Nam-gyu. “I’m close too, just hold on a bit, yeah?”

The air was filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, it was nothing short of filthy. But nobody needed to know, right? Only the rain would know. “Look at you- shit!” Thanos groaned, Nam-gyu was pulsing constantly around his dick, his insides pulling him in as if his body never wants to let him go. “You look so handsome around my dick.. it’s a million or more worth of wons sight.” Thanos said through gritted teeth.

“Su-bong, fuck.. I’m gonna—” Nam-gyu moaned, barely handling how much he was near the edge, it was a huge overwhelming feeling that he didn’t know whether it was more painful or just pleasurable. “Shit, okay.. fuck, cum on my dick then, shit!”

And that was all Nam-gyu genuinely needed before he began gushing around Thanos, nails scraping hard against his shoulders and his back arching, it was all so good Nam-gyu would guess he was nearly floating. Thanos wasn’t any better, he was basically blabbering as his thrusts grew sloppy, hips stuttering as he fucked Nam-gyu throughout his whole orgasm. “In or out?”

Nam-gyu didn’t have much time to register or think, he just went with what his heart wanted, screw all logic. “In, please, just cum in me.” Nam-gyu said breathless.

Thanos wasn’t sure how he didn’t lose his mind at that plea, but his hands gripped the other’s hip and thigh where he had been steadying him so tight he would think it’d bruise, but none of that mattered.

He pulled back one last time, and then finally, as he buried himself as far as he could go, he came. Panting against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, letting go of his leg and just hugging his waist.

They stayed like that for a while, maybe minutes, maybe hours. It felt like a nice eternity, both of them were blissed out. The soft padding of the rain against the treehouse made the atmosphere feel serene and calm, and once their breaths regulated, Thanos straightened up slightly.

“That might have been the best fuck of my life.” Thanos said with a chuckle after sucking in a long breath, and it drew out a laugh from Nam-gyu along the way. “I can say the same, shit, I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for a few days.” The older man said with a playful scoff.

Thanos simply smiled, in that moment, he actually felt happy. He let out a contented sigh as he began pulling out, wincing and hearing a few gasps from the other beneath him as he did so.

Once he was fully out, Thanos was left to see the aftermath. And Nam-gyu looked gorgeous.

His skin was flushed, his previously neat hair was all mused and sticking to his sweaty forehead. He had marks on him, marks Thanos inflicted and nobody would know. His eyes were teary, his lips were red and wet, his cum dribbled out of him.

Thanos looked at Nam-gyu, who looked back at him, seemingly confused by the look on Thanos’ face, and then the other ducked his head between his legs, making Nam-gyu nearly yelp.

“Son of a bitch, I’m still sensitive-” Nam-gyu complained, and he was tired, too. “I’m just cleaning you up.” Thanos replied innocently, when in truth he just needed a taste of Nam-gyu, even if he’d taste himself in the process.

Without any further complaints, Thanos licked a stripe over Nam-gyu’s slit, feeling one of his hands tangle in his hair.

Thanos wouldn’t tease, and he’d also be as careful as he could to not overwhelm the other so much. Pressing a gentle kiss to his clit, Thanos finally slid his tongue in.

The taste wasn’t so bad, it was neutral. A little tangy, musky, but it wasn’t bad. Dedicating himself to cleaning Nam-gyu up, Thanos alternated between tongue fucking him to catching as much of their releases as he could.

Nam-gyu was moaning and panting above him, thighs tightening around Thanos’ head. Even if the intention was to just clean him up, it was inevitable how sensitive he felt, but it somehow still managed to feel good. It was as if Thanos had a way to make everything feel good.

Thanos on the other hand was just enjoying himself, finding this better than anything he did to relax. Even when he was sure he was done with his work, he latched onto that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it gently and earning a whine from Nam-gyu. “It’s too much..” the other said as his thighs tightened around his head. “You can do one more for me, come on, handsome. I know you can.” Thanos’ words were muffled against Nam-gyu’s cunt but yet still audible.

Thanos didn’t do much, just really alternating between sucking and flattening his tongue against Nam-gyu’s clit, judging by how sensitive he knew he was, it wouldn’t take too long for him to cum.

Thanos rubbed one of Nam-gyu’s thighs gently, feeling them tighten around his head as Nam-gyu’s moans not only grew louder in volume but in pitch, and then he was finally coming again.

Thanos caught every single drop, or whatever he could catch, with his mouth. Busying himself as Nam-gyu tugged at his hair in an almost painful grip that Thanos didn’t mind at all.

Once his third and last orgasm subsided, Thanos leaned his head into one of Nam-gyu’s thigh. Watching how his chest heaved and his eyes struggled to stay open as he attempted to calm the shockwaves running throughout his body, Thanos simply smiled at the sight.

Once their eyes locked after a few seconds, Nam-gyu wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused by the stupid expression on Thanos’ face. “You look dumb.” He snorted. “Wasn’t what you were saying when I was deep into you few seconds ago.” Thanos retorted, joining in. “..You’re playing dirty.”

Thanos simply laughed it off and straightened up, wiping the remaining glistening juices from his chin with the back of his hand as he lay next to Nam-gyu, one arm draped over his waist as they faced each other.

For a few minutes, they just stared at each other. Eyes filled with a feeling none of them could decipher, love? Longing? Passion? The two of them were too tired to decipher.

As the minutes ticked by, none of them spoke up until Nam-gyu remembered the others would probably be looking for them. “We should go back.” Nam-gyu mumbled. “We can go later, plus, nobody knows of this treehouse. We can just say we hid somewhere when it started raining.” Thanos said as he carded his fingers through Nam-gyu’s short black hair.

Maybe they couldn’t be together, perhaps his father wouldn’t allow it. But one thing was for sure, Nam-gyu was a price Thanos would cheat to win.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Dipper Vs. Manliness

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2, The Inconveniencing (previous)

Special thank you to @disregardedblasphemy for beta reading! You're awesome <3

At one point, Stan had a bit of a crush on Lazy Susan. She’d been real cute and pretty sweet back when he first met her and she hadn’t been too upset about what happened to her eye. As the years passed, she was just one of the few single people left in his age range. That he actually liked, anyway.

Who knew so many people got married when you got old!

Now with his baby face in the way, Stan just didn’t feel right flirting with her like he normally did.

Using his ‘charming young man’ powers on her though―!

“You do split plates, right?” Stan asked, ducking his head shyly and peering up at Susan through his lashes. “We’re just poor, hungry kids on a budgeted allowance…”

Susan laughed and pinched his cheek.

“You’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? We always make an exception for Big Stan ― I can do it for Little Stan, too!”

Stan chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the ‘daddy’ comment, and offered the waitress a blinding smile.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a shutter sound and some muffled giggles.

“Tambry!” Mabel whispered, practically climbing over the back of the booth to speak to the girl on the other side. “Send me that for my scrapbook!”

Stan did his best to ignore that. And the fact that Tambry was still taking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Instead, he just pushed on with his order, ignoring Mabel’s protests that she wanted pancakes.

He could have made those himself if she'd wanted them so much!

Dipper, however, was more sympathetic to his sister’s plight.

“Don’t worry, guys!” he said confidently. “Pancakes are on me. I’m gonna win them by beating that manliness tester!”

“Manliness tester?” Stan asked blankly, remembering the machine that had been in the diner forever.

“Beating?” Mabel asked incredulously before bursting into laughter.

And Stan might have laughed with her if he hadn’t seen how scrappy the boy really was,  getting into fist fights with psychotic nine year olds and breaking into buildings. Still, the boy was built like a noodle and not in the typically stocky manner most Pines boys were. He didn’t even have their trademark nose, his mother’s genetics probably the cause for that. The color of it was right on point, though.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.” Stan put a hand on Mabel’s head to quiet her down, but wasn’t quite able to stop the snort that came with the mental image of Dipper beating the tester. “Your brother’s not as geeky as he seems, sometimes. I wanna see him try! Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me to see where he is before I start yous two on boxing lessons!”

“You’re going to teach us how to box?” Dipper asked skeptically.

Stan’s grin widened and he flexed his arms, thick cords of muscle visible even under his baby fat.

“You’re lookin’ at the best boxer from Glass Shard Beach! Goldmill Gym’s got all my old trophies lining the walls!”

At least, it had forty years ago. Old Man Nicky was surely dead now and probably had been pissed enough to throw out Stan’s medals when he’d disappeared into the night. Besides, the man had been friends with Pa ― Stan wouldn’t be surprised if the medals were melted down to make gold chains.

You’re a bum, Stanny. But you can take a hit and give ‘em back twice as hard.

Mabel latched onto Stan’s bicep, giggling wildly as he curled his arms a few times, threatening to drop her back into the booth.

“Hmmm,” Dipper hummed, eyeing Stan’s arms thoughtfully. “...okay. I mean, how different could it be from kickboxing?”

Stan grinned at him. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! Now ― go win us some pancakes!”

Dipper beamed at him.

It didn’t last long, however, the boy failing miserably and running out in the face of Manly Dan showing him up. Stan didn’t think the man meant anything by it. He probably just wanted more pancakes or was trying to feed what he thought was a bunch of hungry kids. He was just like that sometimes. Blunt and lacking tact.

Stan was the same.

He looked between his plate and the empty doorframe, conflicted.

Was he supposed to chase after the kid or give him space so he could lick his wounds?

Moses, he missed Old Nicky ― the man would already have a diet planned to help put muscle on the kid or have him chasing chickens and bench pressing hogs. He had a weird way of training his boxers, but he’d made Stan quick on his feet and able to find a weak spot on guys with more fat rolls than average.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel rested her hand gently on Stan’s arm. Her smile was familiar, but it didn’t really meet her eyes. She almost looked guilty.

“Of course, he will.” Stan smiled back at her half-heartedly. “He’s a Pines. We always end up alright.”

Mabel didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for a moment. She began eating her pancakes, but some of her enthusiasm was lost.

“... do you think I shouldn’t have laughed at him?”

Stan winced, hearing the hurt in her voice. “Probably didn’t help…”

Mabel deflated, losing some of her usual vibrancy. “He’s really serious about becoming a man. Growing chest hair and wishing his voice would stop cracking…”

“People make it into a big deal.” Stan shrugged, remembering how he’d waited for those body changes a lifetime ago. There’d been the awkward days with acne and voice cracks, not to mention realizing he could have a crush on nearly anyone who showed him a smidgeon of positive attention. He could only sympathize with how Dipper was feeling, especially with Stan around in his current state. The kid was probably wondering when he was going to start shooting up and filling out like his uncle. Shermie and Alec were both built big as well. Dipper probably was feeling left out. “He’s gotta figure out his new place and his body’s going through some… changes. Speaking of, please tell me your mom has had The Talk with you…”

Mabel snorted, a gleam returning to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan.” she snickered. “Mom told me everything to expect last year.”

Stan sagged in relief. “Just let me know if you need… any feminine products. Or chocolate. Or just tell Wendy and I’ll give her the money.”

Moses, was it hot in here or were his ears on fire. He never expected to have this conversation. Why did it have to be so awkward?! He’d had a mother, for crying out loud ― and a girlfriend who’d been very vocal about what cramps and mood swings did to her.

Mabel just laughed at him again, bouncing back to her normal self with an ease he envied.

“Do you think he’ll be alright once he’s done with puberty?” she asked thoughtfully, trying her straw wrapper into a neat bow. “I mean, you seem alright going through it a second time.”

Stan snorted at that. “Nah, I was pretty much set as soon as I hit sixteen the first time. The only thing that stuck around for a while was the acne. That didn’t really go away until my thirties.”

“I thought that went away after you turned twenty!” Mabel exclaimed, her face twisting with horror.

“Nope!” Stan propped his chin up on his hand, leaning close to give her a good look at the bumps on his chin. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once you get over the hump of the hormone changes, but pimples’ll pop up at random forever! But your face thingies helped mine the other day.”

“We should get you some pimple patches for the little ones!” Mabel suggested, poking a red spot on Stan’s cheek. He hissed at the little jolt of pain it caused and she pulled her hand away, expression apologetic. “Ohh! We should do another spa day!”

“Spa day?” a somewhat familiar voice asked from behind them. Tambry popped up over the back of their seat, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Count me in.”

“Me, too!” Wendy announced, sliding into the booth across from them. “We should get Stan some better clothes, too. He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks.”

“I wash them!” he protested indignantly.

“You’re gonna wear them out like that.” the redhead pointed out easily. “Also, you smell like an old man. Switch your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne to work. That’s just aftershave.” He rubbed his chin with a grimace, resenting the fact that his facial hair had been so patchy as a teenager. It looked weird if he didn’t shave every morning. Back when he was old, his five-o’clock shadow had been fine enough for tours ― now he just looked stupid.

“We should get him a jacket that fits!” Mabel suggested, bouncing in her seat with her thoughts a million miles away. Probably lost in some mental mall. “And a comb!”

“I wouldn’t mind getting some gel,” Stan admitted, running a hand over his unruly curls. “S’how I used to wear it.”

Wendy tilted her head, considering his face. “I can see it. Like those guys in Grease.”

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. “Exactly!”

“Let’s go to the mall!” Mabel shrieked, overcome with excitement. She shook Stan’s arm, moving her body more than his bicep and looking like she was being electrocuted as a result. Or like a fish flopping on the floor of his boat. “Mall Day! Mall Day!”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Stan groaned.

“Nope!” Mabel and Wendy wore identical expressions, like lionesses about to pounce on some poor, old zebra. Tambry offered a thumbs up from the other side of the booth wall. ____________________________________________________________

“This was a terrible idea.”

Now, Stan was no stranger to shopping with a teenage girl. He’d dated Carla McCorkle for a while before she was stolen away by that mind-controlling musician. He was quite familiar with wandering from store-to-store while a girl ooh-ed and ahh-ed over things without making a single purchase.

He hated customers who did that and he hated being part of a group that did that.

“Grunkle Stan, this is an essential part of shopping!” Mabel punctuated her statement with a pointed slurp of her iced coffee. De-caf, of course. She was already energetic enough.

He responded with a pointed sip of his own, secretly conceding that iced coffee was good. Especially all dolled up with fancy syrups and whipped cream.

Way too expensive, though.

“C’mon, man.” Wendy rolled her eyes fondly and threw the jacket she and Tambry had been fawning over at his face. “Chill out and leave everything to us. All you gotta do is put on what we tell you and say if you like it or not.”

“I was promised hair gel.” Stan muttered petulantly. He felt the soft lining of the jacket, an old-styled bomber like the one Ford had worn as a kid, and noted that it was soft. “Can’t I just pick some jeans and go?”

“Grunkle Stan, you need to learn about style!” Mabel exclaimed, stars in her eyes. “Now that you’re not a gross old man, this is the perfect opportunity to work on my ‘Convince Dipper To Wear More Than One Outfit’ powerpoint!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “What’s that got to do with dressin’ me up?”

“Because!” Mabel exclaimed exasperatedly. “You guys look a lot alike now! Once he sees how good you look, he’ll be inspired to do the same!”

“She has a point.” Wendy shrugged. “You’ve had more women hitting on you these past few weeks than you’ve had my entire life.”

“You’re totally hot.” Tambry confirmed flatly, briefly moving her phone away from her face to show them some kind of website. There were a lot of pictures of him and it made his skin crawl. So did the comments, most filled with the little picture things from Mabel’s ‘motivational sticker pack’.

“Ugh!” Stan shuddered at the girl’s comment and threw his hands up defensively. “I― I don’t even know what to do with all that. It’s… It’s weird.”

His eyes darted around in search of an escape route and he bolted out the door with the jacket in tow. He liked it, but he’d never admit it. Or pay for it.

Stan yanked the tags off, casually dropping them in a nearby trashcan before shrugging the jacket on. Ooooh, it had nice big pockets. Perfect for shoplifting!

“Well, if it isn’t Stanley Pines.”

Stan stiffened at the voice behind him, mind racing as he tried to place it. 

Don’t panic, you’ve been introducing yourself as Stanley the Second for weeks! This is just the con beginning to pay off…

He turned, a conman’s smile curling his lip, before a shocked scream left him.

“My eyes! My poor eyes!”

It was improbable. It was impossible! It had been forty years!

But against all the odds, there was a familiar face from Glass Shard Beach in Gravity Falls.

Old Man Nicky stared at him, his expression as sour and unimpressed as ever, another generation’s worth of wrinkles making him look like a particularly grumpy bulldog. He was still wearing the same old red sweater over a gray tracksuit, thin wisps of white hair peeking out from beneath a black beanie.

It really was his old boxing coach. Really old boxing coach.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Stan asked before he could stop himself. A cane shot out and clocked him in the shin, making him yelp and topple over. Ugh, just like the old days.

“Shouldn’t you? Your ma told me you crashed your car into a ditch and burnt up. Guess you just got mixed up in some freaky magic shit out here. Probably somethin’ ta do with that brother of yours.”

Stan winced at the relatively spot-on observation, rubbing his leg as he looked up at Nicky. The man had shrunk over the years, but he never lost the ability to make Stan feel like some scrawny little kid.

“What’re you doin’ in Gravity Falls of all places?” he asked, not bothering with how the man knew about magic. You couldn’t live here without tripping over a gnome every other Tuesday.

“Got myself a grandson who married a selkie. Their kids like the cold and I’m mostly retired. Thought I’d spend the rest of my twilight years with them.” Nicky shrugged before piercing Stan with a stern look. “Thought about lookin’ ya up, but you were too busy runnin’ around and pretendin’ t’ be Stanford. You’re a bum, Stannie. Your impersonations suck.”

Stan straightened up with a frown, properly offended now.

“I’ll have you know,” he sniffed, tucking his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the old man. His gruff voice smoothed into something more sophisticated and refined, the Jersey accent melting away like butter beneath a summer sun. “That I still do a fantastic impersonation of my brother… Hypothesis! Quantum physics! Exponential!”

Nicky chuckled at him, wrinkled face sagging as it softened fondly.

“That’s our Stanford.” he sighed, turning away. “Now, c’mon back to the gym and fill me in on what happened. Y’not doin’ this without good reason. Yous two hated being mixed up.”

Stan hesitated, looking over his shoulder for the girls. They were a few stores back and a few bags heavier, their eyes scanning the mall in search of him.

“I’ll have to raincheck ya on that, old man.” he hurried to say, voice returning to normal and pitched low. Secretive. “I got a couple of add-ons who aren’t exactly in on it. They can’t know.”

Nicky frowned at him, tilting his head so he could squint at the girls as they approached. Mabel had spotted them, her face lighting up as she rushed forward with a grin.

“Well,” Nicky chuckled as she caught up to them. “This one looks just like you. Braces ‘n all. She box any?”

“Grunkle Stan’s gonna teach me and my brother!” Mabel proclaimed proudly before blinking in confusion at the old man. She shrugged and offered Nicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Mabel! Are you one of my uncle’s old man friends?”

“More like his uncle.” Nicky clasped her hand gently. “You can call me Papa Nick.”

“Okay!” Mabel agreed before Stan could protest.

“Oh, c’mon old man!” he huffed. “You never let me call you Uncle Nick!”

The old man smacked him with the cane again. “That’s cause you’re a bum, Stannie. ‘Sides ― Filbrick woulda had kittens if he caught you boys goin’ soft on me.”

“Wait, you knew Grunkle Stan as a kid?!” Mabel gushed, her hands squishing her cheeks. “Oh Em Gee ― you’re like, super old! Do you have pictures of baby Stan?!”

“Course I do!” Nicky snorted. “And all’a his old trophies. Tell ya what ― yous guys come for dinner and I’ll dig ‘em out.”

“Nicky!” Stan hissed, panic seizing his chest.

The old man bopped him with the cane once more, gently this time.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.” Nicky gave him a pointed look. “I’ll keep all your embarrassing secrets in storage. For now.”

Stan held his gaze a moment longer, praying that the old man would keep his word, before nodding stiffly.

“Fine. Where’re ya stayin’ these days?”

Nicky smirked, smug with victory, and shoved a business card into Stan’s hand.

“Six o’clock. Come to the back door and don’t be late or you’re washin’ towels.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, old man!” Stan shouted after him as he and Mabel rejoined the rest of the girls. “I ain’t washin’ nothin’!”

Nicky just laughed at him and continued on his way. ___________________________________________________________

“What happened to you, kid?” Stan asked in bewilderment as Dipper trudged into the house, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

The boy sighed and flopped down on the floor by Stan’s armchair.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” the boy mumbled into the carpet.

“Good.” Stan said awkwardly, trying to think of a subject change to get out of another ‘feelings’ talk.

“It’s just these half-man, half-bull humanoids were hanging out with me…” Dipper blurted out suddenly, shooting up with an annoyed expression.

“Here we go.” Stan rolled his eyes. He frowned as the boy’s words reached his brain. “Wait, you talkin’ about those dumb Manotaurs? Those guys are jerks!”

“I know, right?!” Dipper threw his hands up, relieved to have another person on his side. “They wanted me to do this really tough, horrible thing ― but it just wasn’t right. So, I said no.”

The boy deflated, looking as lost as Stan felt after spending too long reading his brother’s journals.

Stan reached down, easily knocking Dipper’s hat off, and ruffled the boy’s tangled curls.

“You were your own man and you stood up for yourself.” he said firmly. Dipper looked up at him in surprise. Stan grinned at him. “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me, but whadda I know?”

Dipper smiled at him, regaining some of the life that he’d lost during his all-day workout. His brows raised as he took in Stan’s new jeans and T-shirt, the outfit capped off by his new bomber jacket.

“Hey, you look good. I like your jacket. And you finally got hair gel?”

“Thanks.” Stan thumbed the collar of his jacket, remembering the one Ford had worn when they were kids. Which, now that he was thinking about it…

“How’s about you go get ready?” Stan nudged the boy with his foot, toes digging into Dipper’s ribs and making him giggle. “We’re headin’ to a friend of mine’s for dinner and you stink.”

Dipper’s face fell. “Do we really have time for me to shower? I― I mean, is it really necessary?”

“Yep.” Stan said firmly, nudging the boy again. “Go ― use soap this time.”

The boy groaned dramatically, but headed upstairs anyway.

He could hear Mabel in the attic, singing along to some pop song at the top of her lungs. Once he heard the shower cut on, Stan bolted for the vending machine.

It was risky as hell, but he’d done worse lately.

All of Ford’s old things that might have given away his identity were stored in the basement. Six-fingered gloves, old home movies and pictures ― they all lived in boxes in the observation room. Along with a trunk of keepsakes that Ma had sent after Pa died and the pawnshop closed. She’d moved in with Shermie those last few years before her death and wanted ‘Stanford’ to have all of the twins’ old things. Probably in hopes he’d use them with a son of his own one day.

And in the trunk, there was a little old jacket with patched elbows that had seen the boys through many an adventure.

Ford’s bomber jacket.

Stan lifted it out of the trunk reverently, like one would a precious artifact. It was soft beneath his fingers, the fabric worn and the fur lining a bit matted. The elbow patches were fraying and it smelled of mothballs and old books.

He buried his face in the lining with a sniffle, wondering why he and Ford had ever drifted apart in the first place.

Stan knew he was a screw-up, but he still had no idea what he’d done to make Ford want to move across the country to get away from him.

“When did you stop liking me, Poindexter?” he sighed, tucking the jacket beneath his arm. He checked the security cameras before heading back upstairs. He’d had plenty of time to get the jacket and hide it in his room before Dipper and Mabel were ready for dinner.

No worries.

____________________________________________________________

“Uh, did you just see that, dude?” Soos whispered to Wendy, his eyes wide with shock.

“Secret door to a secret basement in the Mystery Shack?” Wendy confirmed, her normally cool facade beginning to crack. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Good to know.”

[flamesignite]

He listened to his words, waiting till he asked the question, of course he's thought about it. He doesn't just make decisions like this. He's never considered marrying someone before. He was scared at the thought of hurting someone he loved with his blood stained hands.

"Atem, I don't think you understand." He squeezes his hand. "We both have been through a lot in our time, and its obvious we feel like we don't deserve to be happy because of the pain we've caused people we've cared about. Yet, those people we love are still with us, still loving us and wanting to be near us. Do you ever think they would want us to be happy? I can say I never thought I deserved to be happy, but yet... here I am happy when I am with you. I had so much self hatred for myself and what I've done that I never let myself be happy with another person, but when I met you, I wanted to be happy, I wanted to enjoy every moment with you that I could." He admits softly.

"The guilt you feel still is understandable. I always feel it deep down, it never truly goes away, even if I wish it did. I really never thought I'd be able to think of marriage because I thought that was unreachable for a man like me." He swallows softly, squashing down the nervousness he felt.

"That was till I met you and you showed me differently, you showed me I was able to love and be loved by someone, no matter what flaws and choices I had to make in the past." He looks at him softly, but seriously.

"I've thought long and hard with my decision. I know what you've done, and I still accept you, flaws and all. No matter what you have done in your past and what we have went through when things happened between us, we worked it out and moved on from it. I still choose this, I still choose you, I want you. All of you. Some days will be tougher than others, but we're going to get through those days together."

He can understand why he was hesitant in all of this, because he felt like he didn't deserve it. Well, Roy is here to assure him that he does deserve it.

"I could say the same, do you really want someone like me after all that I've done? You kept telling me that these blood stained hands deserve to hold the man I love. What's the difference? You deserve this just as much as I do. I want to be with you, through sickness and health, till death do us part. I want that with you, Atem. I love you. I love you, Atem. So much." He squeezes his hand again, this time hoping he'd look at him in the eyes.

"I've thought long and hard, Atem. I want to marry you. There's nobody else I wish to marry."

"No, listen to me, please." Atem kept his gaze down and away, unable to bring himself to look at Roy at the moment. "I don't think you understand what you're saying. It's because you mean everything to me that I want you to know what you're getting yourself into, what you're asking here. This is a mere human you're asking to vow your life to, yes, but... Are you really sure? Me?" His hand began to tremble in his Colonel's hand.

"I've... kept you from your own world, I've hurt you so many times, I've caused you to put your own feelings on hold because I can't keep up. I've... been a terrible husband in the past. I've hurt so many around me, those I've considered near and dear to me. I was too late to save the life of someone I wanted to walk down the aisle with. I have enemies all around, and even came close to death so many times. Never mind I have this dark... thing inside of me that completely exposed me and nearly hurt you. Stop feeling for once and think! Is that what you really want? Someone like that?"

He closed his eyes, feeling his whole body start to tremble and his chest to hurt even more. "You can say it, and I can say it... as much as we want that we want to be happy... but it means nothing if I haven't done a thing to deserve it. I may... say I want to be happy, but honestly... I know that I've done far too much to others to even think about such a thing. Please, just..." He had completely looked away, keeping his head down so Roy couldn't attempt to read his eyes.

"Just think about what you're saying, who you're talking to. Is this really what you want?"

[girl-lostconnection]

YESSS I SO AGREE!! omggggg she’s such a productive queen. and after she finishes her trilogy, mailing a signed copy to her man, duh, she’s already working on her fourth. but this one is a standalone, i think. “the diaries of the soldier’s lover,” she titles this one. and she writes about how simon essentially saved her from losing her mind in year 10 and how she wishes she could be like a little angel on his shoulder, following him always. she names herself his guardian angel and thanks him deeply for the love that he has helped to grow, like a rose blooming with no thorns.

and she mails him a copy of this, too. and i like to think that for her first trilogy (some fantasy story she conjured) she used a pseudonym. but this one has her name written all over it. because she’s just so proud of him!! and she’s signed his copy, with big frilly letters and a heartwarming message.

price is like, “damn, simon, gettin’ a lot of mail lately, aye?” whenever simon comes to get his weekly mail from price’s office, and simon is too choked up to even say anything. did a tear just stain the page? no, surely it’s raining in here. or the ceiling is leaking! surely.

he reads this book like his gospel, and he’s sure that with this one, the book that he inspired, she’s touched the hearts of many wives out there. his wife is a famous author. all things that will be true within due time.

he writes her a letter, a simple diamond ring tapped haphazardly inside the envelope. “does it count if i ask you to marry me through parcel?” he writes, messy scrawl and silly little arrows and correction markings.

she cries, too. and yes, of course it counts, you oaf. she wears that ring everywhere. her husband is a lieutenant, she finds out in his next letter. he is a leader. and a damn good one.

she wears this ring even after price has shown up at her door, metal necklaces dangling from his fingers and his boonie hat long forgotten — his head bowed in shame.

AGHHGGHHH this au is eating at my brain and im not even mad i dont even caaaaare, they’re so precious and broken and they fit together. and im so sorry for the angst it just kinda happened…… 😣

— 🍓

NO YOU DIDNT. NO ANON HOW COULD YOU, YOU KILLED SIMON OMG.

In all seriousness that’s a damn good idea, anon, you should actually write it out, it’s sweet and it sounds really nice and it’s so so warm.

God, I almost cried on the part with him typing in a ring and asking her hand in marriage, god, of course Reader would marry him, how could she not. God, actually, step aside Reader I’m gonna marry this man. Oh my god.

And Price showing at her doorstep with Simon’s dogtags because it’s not the first soldier he’s buried but damn, if this wasn’t a special one. And I’d imagine your Reader wearing his dogtags until the day she dies, talking about him like he’s still alive.

She’d probably say things along the lines of “Yeah, my husband is really proud of this one, thank you so much” or “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m not available. I’m married” and people always get a little worried when they find out Simon is no longer alive.

Because she keeps on living and she still talks about him like he’s there. And maybe for her he really is. Maybe that’s the way she keeps herself tethered to reality, joining the support club and writing another book — talking to the spouses of other military personnel through them. Sharing their pain, extending her hand through the pages and kind of saying “hey, I feel it too. I know your pain. You aren’t alone. I’m here”.

And she never judges other spouses for their ways of coping because hey, she gets that. She knows how it feels to choke on tears when the love of your life is lowered into the ground.

She knows how it feels to write to someone who can never answer, she knows how it feels to turn to talk to someone who’s not there anymore, how it feels to forget sometimes that hey, he’s dead.

Someone once wrote that when their spouse died they felt so shocked and overwhelmed that their first subconscious instinct was to call the said spouse and share news with them. Their first instinct was to go for comfort to the person they lost.

That’s how (i think) your Reader would feel in lieu of Simon’s death.

Luckily for the rest of you, who aren’t me and strawberry anon, im not gonna kill Simon. I have fragile heart, I wouldn’t do that to you, guys *pats your backs* death is too finite for me.

And I like to get real creative with suffering (damn that sounded ominous)

[be-xkyy]

Yandere Brother-in-law

Warning: Smut, infidelity to a third party, violence, pregnancy, mentions of murder, feelings of guilt, children mentioned.

Yandere brother-in-law who has known you since you, him, and his younger brother (by two years) were teenagers (he hates his brother since everyone preferred him for being a "good boy")

Yandere brother-in-law who was (is) in love with you since you were teenagers as was his brother (but he thinks he has more right to you since he met you first)

Yandere brother-in-law who was in a relationship with you in his youth (friends with benefits) he thought you two would end up getting married someday (that didn't happen).

Yandere brother-in-law who was shocked when one day his brother brought you home hand in hand and announced that you were dating and planning to get married when his brother finished college.

Yandere brother-in-law who took advantage of the moment when you apologized and went to the bathroom and followed you and abruptly entered the bathroom ignoring your surprised look and your complaints that it was inappropriate and that he should get out of the bathroom.

Yandere brother-in-law who grabs you tightly by the arms and asks you furiously "What the fuck are you doing?! What the fuck is this about you marrying my fucking brother?! Huh?!" you can see the vein on his forehead throbbing his jaw is clenched tightly, he's really furious.

Yandere brother-in-law who squeezes you even harder (bordering on painful) when you tell him "You and I are too chaotic together, I need someone reliable in my life who's a safe bet for the long term" he ends up fucking you roughly in the bathroom sink when you walk down the stairs your legs are shaking and his warm seed is deep inside you you smile nervously at your boyfriend and his parents.

Yandere brother-in-law who keeps fucking you even after you married his brother, it was inevitable since you couldn't be without each other for too long, he convinced his brother to stay and live at his parents' house and your husband accepted (he's really dumb)

Yandere brother-in-law who even ten years later is still your lover under a tense coexistence in the family home, you have two wonderful children and he is a proud uncle (cough father) who wants to always be with his nephews.

Yandere brother-in-law who uses any opportunity to get intimate and physical with you even going as far as pretending to be sick just to skip work and stay home while your kids go to school and your husband goes to work which always ends up with you and him having sex (especially when he's jealous when he sees you with his brother)

Yandere brother-in-law who can never take you seriously when you tell him your relationship needs to end and what you two are doing is wrong he laughs when you say his brother is a good man and doesn't deserve this and blah blah blah... he really can't take you seriously especially when you're pregnant with another one of his babies and you moan so beautifully beneath him.

Your high pitched moans fill the room along with the wet sound of slapping, he gives you firm thrusts that make you roll your eyes back in your head he has you tight in a mating hold, your legs brushing against your ears as his fat cock hits all of your sweet spots inside your pussy.

Your nails dig into his shoulders leaving half moon marks on the hot skin, you hear his distorted voice but you can't understand what he says too drowned in pleasure. slap. the sudden slap he gives you on the cheek brings you out of your daze an "uh?" escapes your lips and you look at him with cloudy eyes.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a snort while still thrusting into you, he hits your forehead with his finger and asks slowly as if you were too dumb to understand his words "I asked you what the fuck do you mean that you want us to end? Answer me!" you gulp and try to formulate a coherent response although it's difficult when the delicious feeling of his cock going in and out of your pussy makes you dizzy, you barely manage to mumble "Gabriel— i just— i feel bad for my husband— he's so good... and i do this to him— i'm a bad person..."

Gabriel chuckles darkly and pushes your legs lower almost touching the mattress the new position allows more of his cock to slide inside me in every crease and hollow, he takes my chin in his hand and says in a mocking coo "you're not a bad person darling, you're just a cheating whore addicted to her brother-in-law cock, but i like you like that even if you're a slut don't worry" a pitiful whimper escapes my swollen lips at his words your chest burns with shame.

"But I am a bad person and your poor, repentant attitude is starting to tire me out, why don't you just admit that you made a mistake by marrying my stupid brother? Admit that you should have married me" He says with a growl, his sharp eyes stare into mine waiting for an answer and I can't do anything but close my eyes not wanting to answer the obvious.

He frowns at your stubborn refusal, his fingers tighten their grip on your legs and says "You don't want to talk? Fine. I'll make sure that when I'm done with you, you can't talk or think about anything but me."

A few hours later Gabriel looks at your sleeping form, your sweaty body and your thighs stained with a mixture of your juices and his semen, you fell asleep quickly after his assault. His eyes travel to your slightly swollen belly with his son, HIS SON, he reaches out his hand and traces the outline of your stomach then leans down placing a kiss above your navel and murmurs as if it were a secret "Don't worry son dad will fix this shitty situation and take his rightful place, you must be strong because mom will be sad when she finds out about my brother's death, but I will make it up to her... I promise"