#I’ll make another rules thing later I promise

[d3adp00ls]

Vanessa Shelly/Afton nsfw alphabet pls?

I’m simping for this woman hard

You’re so real for this 🤭 but I’m sorry I don’t do smut or anything nsfw man 😭

[yuyusbabygirl]

Is this not what you wanted?

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: established relationship, SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, choking, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex (please don't), name calling (whore, slut, all consensual), spitting, orgasm denial, technically breeding (he cums in her), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!Yunho, sweet boyfriend!Yunho, spanking, aftercare

summary: you tease your boyfriend at board game night and he punishes you

It is really not fault. You were trying to be good, promise. But Yunho looks so good when he’s mad and it is so easy to rile him up in front of others.

So here you were, meeting up with the other guys and your boyfriend Yunho for board game night. What your boyfriend didn’t know yet is that you had an agenda. You wore the low cut top he had a love-hate relationship with, the tight jeans that made your ass look good and did your hair the way he likes it. But it bothers you that he was just sitting there, playing the stupid game. He had not even looked at your boobs yet. So you decide to ramp it up a bit.

You get up to get a drink, making sure to walk in front of him with your ass to his face because of course there was no space. Totally innocent. When you sit back down you put your hand on his thigh, maybe a bit too high. He shoots you a look but you just give him a sweet smile.

He’s not suspicious yet. When it is your turn to roll the dice you lean over the table, your low cut top giving the guys a good look at your cleavage. You knew, Yunho hated it when other guys looked at you too much.

You lean back after your turn is over and whisper to Yunho “I’m wearing that red lace set, by the way”.

He pursed his lips with his standard flustered expression and you knew you had him. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him pissed.

You take your hand off his thigh and sit back against the couch. He holds his hand out for you to take it but you ignore it and sip your drink instead. Another rule break. He narrows his eyes but you know he doesn't want the others to see. He is a sweet golden retriever after all. You suppress a smile.

You all move on to the next game but you refuse his offer to play in a team with him and instead team up with Wooyoung. His fingers clench for a moment before he agrees to team up with Mingi. The game continues and you look at him over the rim of your glass. He’s watching you. Yunho shakes his head ever so slightly, telling you to knock it off.

Well, where’s the fun in that.

You continue teasing him across the room, arching your back maybe a bit too much, licking your lips after drinking, just little things. You know you’re going to pay for it later. But fuck, it’s hard to stop when he looks so good with his dark eyes, clenched jaw and his tight grip on his glass.

The last straw is when you touch Wooyoung’s thigh and laugh after he told a joke. As Yunho, cracks his neck you know you fucked up big time. Judging by the reaction your pussy had though, you won’t complain.

Before you know it, Yunho gets up and makes an excuse for why you two have to leave. The others who are oblivious to the tension between you two just wish you a good night.

Oh, you will have a good night. The next morning might be difficult.

Yunho takes your hand and drags you home, silently. Shit, he’s really pissed. He opens the door and as soon as it’s closed he pins you to it with his hand on your throat.

“You think it’s funny to piss me off? Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like a whore. The only words out of your mouth better be ‘yes, sir’ and ‘sorry, sir’, you understand me?” he demands.

“Yes, sir”, you can only whisper with his tight grip on your throat.

“Strip”, he barks out and lets go of your throat.

You hurriedly take off your top and jeans, revealing your red lace set. You can’t help but blush as you see his eyes raking over your exposed skin.

“I was right. You really are a whore,” he murmurs. “Get on the bed,” he snaps at you. With hurried steps you walk to the bedroom and get on the bed. He stalks after you and when he reaches you he grabs your hips and flips you over so your ass is up in the air.

“I’ve been too lenient with you. I thought you were my good girl but here you are acting like a pathetic, needy little slut. You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” he coos at you. “You wanted to piss me off. You wanted to get punished like the whore you are,” he runs his hand over your ass.

“This one is for refusing to take my hand,” his low voice is the only warning you get before he lands a hard slap on your ass.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you squeak out.

“This one is for whispering in my ear in front of the others,” another harsh slap.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out. This one was harder.

“This one is for wearing that top when you know what it does to me,” another slap, this time on your other ass cheek.

“I’m sorry, sir,” your voice breaks.

“This one is for teaming up with Wooyoung instead of me,” his voice is low and furious as he slaps your ass again in the same spot.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper. Your ass feels like it’s on fire.

“This one is for daring to put your hand on another man’s thigh,” he slaps your ass with more force. That one really pissed him off.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl out, tears forming in your eyes. That must’ve been the last one.

“And this one is because I love the pathetic noises you make,” he laughs mockingly and slaps your ass again, his huge hand allowing him to hit both cheeks on the already sore spots. His dick hardens further at the silent scream you let out.

He rips your panties off and glides a finger between your folds. “Only whores get wet from spanking,” he growls into your ear.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper, needing him to touch you more.

“You’re sorry? Show me how sorry you are, my needy little slut,” he grunts before grabbing your hair and pulling you to your knees on the floor. He gazes down at you, his eyes hard and unforgiving and you know your throat is going to be sore tomorrow. Yunho quickly unbuckles his belt and you shuffle closer on your knees.

He frees his cock, not bothering to pull his pants down properly and the fact that you’re only left in your bra while he is still fully clothed is only turning you on more.

You barely have the chance to open your mouth fully before he’s thrusting his length into your throat, making you gag.

“Whores can take it all the way. Come on,” he grits through his teeth.

Your eyes are already watering and spit is running down your chin. Yunho is big and it has taken you a lot of training to be able to take him. You relax your jaw, allowing him to thrust inside your throat, down to his balls. His rough pace is making it hard not to choke but you don’t want to make him more mad so you take it, breathing through your nose. Yunho sees the tears running down your face, mascara smeared over your cheeks and the lip-gloss you had on smeared over his cock and it’s taking all his self-control to not cum on the spot.

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a whore, just for me,” he moans out and you so badly want to sneak your hand between your legs. He sees you clenching your thighs as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

“Is my whore wet from me fucking her throat? I bet you wish I was fucking your needy cunt instead. Too bad you decided to be a fucking brat tonight. You’re not getting my cock until I’ve seen how sorry you are,” he laughs down at you and his grip on your hair gets tighter.

He spits down on your face and uses his hand to rub it into your skin. You could’ve cum from that alone.

He roughly pulls out our throat for a moment and you gasp and cough, more spit running down your chin.

“Please, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” your voice is breaking as you try to catch your breath.

“I’ll decide when you’ve had enough,” he grunts and thrusts back into your mouth.

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he gasps, gripping your hair tighter. He shoves his cock all the way down and holds your head with your nose against his pubic bone. You try hard not to choke but after a few seconds it becomes too much. Yunho pulls out when you’re choking and uses his hand to collect the spit running out of your mouth before wiping it on your face. Your face is a complete mess, you’re gasping and coughing and he wants nothing more than to praise you. But you’ve been bad tonight and he needs to remind you who’s in charge. He still leans down and presses a quick kiss to your swollen lips.

He uses his grip on your hair to pull you up and roughly throws you on the bed. He unhooks your bra and tosses it to the side.

“Spread your legs, my little whore,” he says in a low voice and crawls over you. He grips your throat with one hand and uses the other to push two fingers inside of you without warning. He tightens his grip on your throat when you moan, making the noise you let out even more pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and guides himself to your entrance.

“If you cum without permission, you won’t cum for a week. Is that clear, slut?” he asks, his face close to yours.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, sir”.

He pushes his cock inside, all the way to the hilt, but doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, immediately setting a hard pace. Yunho sits up, using his grip on your throat as leverage to fuck you hard and fast. The grunts and moans he lets out alone could make you cum.

“Fuck, take it, my little whore. Always so bratty but you quickly turn into a whining mess on my cock,” his voice low and feral as he chokes you. You can only moan and hold onto his arms, your eyes rolling back. He can tell you’re close already and snakes his free hand to your clit. You let out a high-pitched whine as he rubs circles on your swollen clit.

“Don’t you dare cum,” his voice is unforgiving. Right when you’re at the edge he takes his hand away and stops his thrusting. You whimper desperately.

“What are you whining about? I told you, you don’t get to cum yet,” he mocks you. Once he feels your cunt calming down he resumes his hard pace.

“Is this not what you wanted? Acting all bratty and slutty so I’d fuck you like the whore you are? Then stop whining and take it,” he growls out and tightens his grip on your throat, making you feel hazy.

He looks down where his cock disappears into your cunt and uses his free hand to push down on your stomach where his cock is bulging out. The added pressure brings tears to your eyes and you hold your orgasm back as best as you can.

You can tell he’s close as his thrusts get sloppier and harder.

“You’re gonna take my cum like a good slut,” he grunts, using his grip on your throat to pull your body down to meet his thrusts.

Fuck, cum. Cum, my good little whore,” he moans and presses down on your stomach, thrusting all the way inside and fills you up. He releases his grip on your throat and the rush of air, the pressure on your stomach and the feel of his cum inside you sends you over the edge. You dig your nails into his arm as you cum around his cock. The feel of your walls clamping down on him makes him whimper a bit.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathes out.

He collapses on top of you and breathes heavily into your ear. Your whole body tingles and you can barely feel him pressing soft kisses to your neck. You whine as he pulls out and gets up from the bed. He returns a minute later with a washcloth and some aloe vera gel. He wipes his cum from between your legs and the overstimulation makes you twitch.

“I know. But I need to clean you up,” he says softly, your soft and sweet boyfriend is back.

He turns you over and rubs aloe vera gel onto your red and sore ass cheeks. His touch is gentle and loving while he whispers how good you did.

“I love you, baby. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs gently and turns you back over onto your back. He uses a second washcloth to clean your face.

“Come on, you need to go pee,” he orders you gently. You whine a bit, not wanting to get up.

“I know but you have to. I will make you some tea in the meantime and afterwards we’re cuddling. Come on, my love,” he helps you up and you hobble to the bathroom. You do your business and when you return he’s changed into pajamas and is holding one of his shirts for you. He puts it over your head and kisses your lips softly. You both get into bed and he hands you a tea with honey in it for your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Mhm, so good,” you mumble sleepily and lean your head on his chest while he puts on your favorite show. He kisses the top of your head and pulls the blanket over both of you.

“You know I love and yet hate that top, right?” he murmurs into your ear teasingly.

“I know. And it worked,” you chuckle softly and he lightly pokes your side before chuckling as well.

hope you enjoy, just a quick one that was in my head because angry yunho makes me feel thing

[maxsimagination]

𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨' 𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 - 𝙥.𝙗𝙪𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙨

summary: paige meets yn for the first time, but has no idea that she’s her coaches daughter

-> r is geno’s daughter, i know he’s like 70 but for the sake of the story let’s pretend that he has a younger daughter (26)

• part 1 • part 2 •

𖦹 masterlist

𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗗 never felt better.

after two years studying abroad in spain, i was finally back home. i could see my family again, my dad again. he had no clue i was coming back now, he thought i was still overseas and he wouldn’t see me for another month.

i knew he was at uconn, i was studying my degree there and he was the women’s basketball coach. so i thought the best way to surprise him would be to show up at one of his practices. mom had given me the times of his practices, with the promise of making someone record his reaction to seeing me back for the first time.

i walk down to the gymnasium, hearing the light sounds of shoes squeaking from running on the court.

the doors to the arena are open, i walk in and the first thing i spot is my dad, his back to me and yelling instructions to a team of really tall girls.

the second thing i see is a six foot, hot, blonde woman. i knew who she was, paige bueckers is unmissable. and she was staring directly at me.

instead of approaching either of the two, i decide to sit on the bleachers for a bit and observe the practice. since i was in the states for my last year of studies, i might have to start coming to more of dad’s practices.

to spend time with him of course, and definitely not to see paige.

geno shouts at the players to take a water break and next thing i know, paige is walking straight at me.

“hey.”

“hi.”

i don’t know what else to say, it’s the paige bueckers talking to me.

“i haven’t seen you around here before, what’s your name?”

“i’m yn.”

“nice to meet you, i’m paige.”

“you looked good out there, paige”

the taller girl grinned down at me, and we got to taking for a bit. that was before geno called them all back from their break. paige left me with a wink and a promise to come speak again after practice. i held her to that and waited until they were finished before standing up.

my dad was yet to realise that i’d been here the whole time, and i was waiting for the right time.

when he told all the girls he’d see them tomorrow for practice again, i started walking towards him.

“hey dad.”

he whipped around at my voice and his eyes landed on me. i stood there grinning, waiting for him to say something. there were multiple players watching on, including paige, who didn’t know that i was their coaches’ daughter.

“yn, you’re back?”

“i’m back, dad.”

he didn’t say anything back, just swept me up in a giant hug.

i hugged him back as much as i could, even though he was taller than me by quite a bit. you’d think that being the daughter of tall parents would mean passing down the tall genes, but apparently my siblings took them all. so i was left to stand at only five-foot-eight.

that meant that almost the entire women’s basketball team towered over me. speaking of, when geno finally put me down, the first person i turned to was paige who stood directly behind me the whole time.

“surprise.”

i grinned up at her, and tried to hold back my laughter at her shocked expression.

“damn, coaches’ daughter? i guess i can’t take you out on a date now.”

she feigns sadness and i laugh out loud.

“what can i say, rules are meant to be broken.”

her faux sadness turned into a wolfish grin.

“i always was more of a rule breaker.”

i grabbed my phone out of my pocket then, pulling up a fresh contact.

“put your number in. i’ll text you.”

paige didn’t hesitate to type in her contact, handing my phone back to me in record time.

“i’ll look forward to it, pretty girl.”

i could feel my cheeks blush at the pet name, before i gave a small wave and followed my dad over to where he was just finishing gathering his things and leaving.

it was later that afternoon when i decided to bite the bullet and send paige a message.

to: paige

hey it’s yn, i’m free this friday if you are?

i didn’t expect a reply back so quickly but within the minute, my phone had vibrated multiple times.

from: paige

hey pretty girl

i’ve got practice @ 10, but we could go for a late lunch if that’s okay with you?

to: paige

sounds good, i’ll see you then ;)

never in my life did i think i’d be going on a date with the paige bueckers.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Who Trained Who?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You take Kojo to visit your boyfriend Tim at the station and learn that Tim doesn't like how much time you spend with Kojo.

Warnings: just fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“There’s my handsome boy!” you exclaim softly as the door opens.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tim greets smugly.

You ignore him as you drop to your knees to greet Kojo. Since you started dating Tim, you’ve become his unofficial dog walker, dog sitter, and Kojo’s best friend. Tim tried to tell you that you don’t have to spend all of your free time with Kojo, but rather than answering, you buried your warm cheeks against Kojo’s neck and stopped talking to Tim. He hasn’t tried to bring it up again but has done everything to make you shy.

“I’m working a double shift today,” Tim tells you as he pulls you to your feet.

You nod, looking at his neck as he leans back to check your knees. The first time you met Kojo, you skinned your knees during your excitement, and Tim has promised himself not to let that happen again, regardless of how close you and Kojo are.

“If you can’t stay with him, just let him out and make sure he has water?” Tim requests.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer. “I can stay, though.”

“You don’t have to.”

You shrug, and Tim gently directs your chin to look into your eyes. He smiles and repeats himself, and you nod numbly, failing to hide how your shoulders rise toward your ears with his undivided attention. You and Tim thought your shyness would wear off after more time with him, but it’s getting worse if anything.

“Have you fed him yet today?” you ask, desperate to get attention off of yourself.

“Not yet. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you promise as Tim gathers his things. “Be safe today.”

“Always,” he replies. He cups the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead before he adds, “You too. Have a good day, but don’t let Kojo get away with so much this time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Tim nods once, a firm promise that he’ll do everything to get home to you and Kojo. You haven’t told Tim you love him yet, which you know you do, so this exchange of good wishes and promises to see one another again is the placeholder until one of you finds the right words to express what your relationship means.

“C’mon, Kojo,” you call, walking toward Tim’s kitchen as he closes the door behind him. “Ready for breakfast?”

Kojo bounces his front paws in excitement before he sits and watches you prepare his bowl. As you set it on the floor, he tilts his snout up, and you kiss him just above his nose.

“Loslaten,” you command, using the Dutch command Tim trained Kojo with.

Kojo releases as instructed, stands, and walks to his bowl to eat. When Tim initially introduced you to Kojo, he did everything you instructed and surprised Tim. With one of the K-9 handlers, Tim taught Kojo Dutch and German commands, but there seemed to be no language barrier when you arrived. Tim quickly determined that Kojo simply listened better to you and later decided it was because you’re shy and quiet… a dog whisperer.

After Kojo finishes eating, you get his harness and leash from Tim’s cabinet and get him ready for a walk. Being with Kojo is similar to being with Tim, though he fails to make you as shy as Tim manages to. Kojo leads the way on the walk; he protects you from squirrels and intersections, and thoroughly enjoys sniffing around the neighborhood. Upon returning to Tim’s house, you open the backdoor and let Kojo run off the rest of his morning energy – Tim hates it when you call them zoomies, but that’s what they are. You sit on Tim’s patio and wait for Kojo to return to you, panting and ready to rest at your side.

You make yourself comfortable on Tim’s couch, and when Kojo joins you, you don’t have the heart to tell him he isn’t allowed on the couch. Yet you know that if you let Kojo get away with it, Tim will let you get away with it. As you begin working, you wonder if you should visit Tim during his short break between shifts.

The sun is setting as you lead Kojo into the police station. A K-9 officer saw Kojo and yelled in excitement before he greeted you and led you inside to find Tim. The people who work closest to Tim are always excited to see Kojo, so you do not doubt your surprise visit will be welcomed. Kojo also serves as a good buffer between you and the officers, who seem to be in some unspoken contest to see who can make you shy away first.

“Kojo!” Lucy yells, standing quickly from her desk.

You smile and pass the leash to her as Tim exits an office and smiles at you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he reaches you.

“Kojo missed you,” you answer softly. “And Lucy, of course.”

“Mostly me, right?” Lucy asks Kojo.

“I brought more company,” Angela announces. “The K-9 unit saw Kojo walk through and was waiting for an invitation.”

“Sounds like they’re the ones getting trained,” Tim jokes.

“Don’t start, Bradford,” one of the officers replies before shaking Tim’s hand. “Is he still responding well to the commands?”

“Better when they come from her,” Tim answers, gesturing toward you, where you’re kneeling beside Kojo and Lucy.

“Smart man. You teach him that?”

“What a great question,” Angela interjects. “Did you teach Kojo to listen to your girlfriend? Or was it just by example?”

“Bradford?” another officer calls.

Tim looks up, and when he sees the officer holding up a bag of treats, he nods and gestures for him to go ahead.

“Kojo,” the man calls, offering the treat.

Kojo looks to you, and you murmur, “Geh Voraus,” to tell him to go ahead.

Kojo hesitates yet again, and you kiss his nose quickly. Then, he pushes to his feet and happily takes the treat. Lucy’s jaw drops as she looks between Kojo and Tim.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” she exclaims.

“Timothy taught him that,” Angela murmurs to the officer beside her.

Tim presses his lips together and nods, pressing his hands against his belt. Lucy immediately realizes what he’s doing and can’t resist the opportunity to mess with Tim.

“You want a turn, Tim?” she inquires.

All eyes turn to Tim, and he rolls his eyes before he answers, “Funny, Chen. Maybe you should get back to work.”

“Can you get back to work, or do you need a command and a kiss first, too?”

Lucy smiles as she asks. She thinks your relationship with Kojo and Tim is adorable, but she won’t outright admit that to him. When Tim doesn’t answer, she shrugs and scratches Kojo’s back as another officer passes him a treat.

Your eyes haven’t raised from Kojo since you kissed his snout in front of so many people, but when he nuzzles his face against your arm, sensing your discomfort, Tim’s façade slips. His face relaxes, and Angela can see the longing behind his eyes. Being a cop is hard work and long hours, and Tim wants nothing more than to be with you like Kojo is right now.

“Kojo, staan,” you command when someone asks to see a trick.

Kojo steps back from you and raises to stand on his back legs. As he waits for you to tell him he’s a good boy before walking to the officer with the treats, Tim decides he’s done.

“Yep,” he announces suddenly. “That’s enough, let’s go.”

“You’re working,” you point out as he picks Kojo’s leash off the floor.

“I can take you home, my break’s coming up,” he answers.

You take Tim’s offered hand, and your eyes widen in shock when he tucks you against his side after pulling you to stand. Your suspicions are proven right. Tim was getting jealous of the attention (and kisses) you gave Kojo.

“Thanks,” you murmur against his side.

“I’m going to need a bit more than that,” Tim whispers.

“Nose kisses and treats?” you joke under your breath.

“Sounds like a start. And no more bringing Kojo around Lucy. I don’t need her looking at me like that.”

You want to comment, but Tim exits the station and pulls you into a kiss, effectively silencing you. Watching Kojo is always fun, but maybe you should drop by the station unannounced more often.

[saint-ajax]

༒ OCT. 09 | El Sin Nombre

༒ KINKTOBER

TW: 18+ | TEASING | EDGING | THIGH HUMPING | DRY HUMPING | ORAL SEX | VAGINAL FINGERING | PHONE CALL | MOMMY KINK |

   El Sin Nombre is the faceless man who rules Las Almas. Respected out of fear. People may respect the name, but true and loyal souls of the city despise it. One thing you love about the respected, dreaded, image is that the man who built the name is a woman.

   “Sin Nombre 's personal sicaria?” you say.

   “ Si, mi amor? ” the woman's voice called out behind you. There she was. Your Valeria Garza. The hottest, most beautiful woman in your eyes.

   “ Ola, mami .” you smile giddily, excited to embrace your woman after a long morning without her. You walk closer to her, arms open and ready to wrap around her neck. 

   You did as you planned, wrapping her neck with your arms, tiptoeing to reach for her lips. She grips the back of your hips, where her fingers lie on top of your ass. She leans down to meet your soft lips. “You miss me, baby?” 

   She asks in her husky voice. “Of course,” you say as you lean back to look at her face, and rise again to kiss her. Then you do it again.

   “I still have—” you tiptoe to kiss her, “—work to do,” and again, “—I'm sorry, mami. ”

   She says as she kisses back every time you rise up to meet her lips while she caresses your ass. “Okay..” you say with a slight pout as you look up at her through your lashes, “but, can I stay here?”

   She furrows her brows, thinking. “Will you behave?” a grin appears on your lips before you nod eagerly.

   “Promise.” You say before leaving another peck on her lips.

   “Alright, you can stay.”

   She holds your hand as she brings you to the long table of her office. The people in the mansion know who you are, and what you are to Sin Nombre. They respect and protect you, lusting over your beautiful body isn't allowed or else they're dead. 

   She sits down and spreads her legs as she makes you stand up in front of her. “Twirl for me.” She commands you.

   You smile as you show off your red skimpy sundress flowing with the wind. A brow rose as she noticed something. “Lift your skirt.” She demands. You stopped and blushed. You were caught already.

   Your fingers grip on the edge of your skirt, hesitant to lift it. There weren't any other people around in the room, which was good. You slowly lift it, exposing your creamy skin. 

   “Faster.” Valeria demands impatiently. You lift it up to your waist, revealing your pussy. “I knew it, you putita.”

   You blush and look away, folding your lips together in embarrassment. “I- I did it for you.” You mutter. 

   “I know. Come here.” She says gently, encouraging you to approach her. You did as you were told.

   Her hands press down your waist while the other creeps up your legs, traveling the sweet spot between your legs. “A- ah…” you moan in surprise when she forcefully spread your legs and straight up inserted a finger in your cunt.

   “So fucking wet already.” She comments while she slides her finger up and down your wet folds. You bite your lip as your brows meet. She stood up and tug aside the cloth on your tits to lick on it. She sucks on your nipples while playing with your pussy.

   She fastens the pace on your cunt and when you start trembling she stops. “I’ll see you later, mami .”

   She smiles before leaving a kiss on your lips and sucking her finger drenched in your juice. You watch her dumbfounded.

   You spent the day watching your woman answer calls, yell at men around the house, and work like a dog. She's never been hotter when she speaks and curses in Spanish.

   “¡Qué puta madre, pendejo! ”

   You watch from afar how she gets mad at the stupidity of men around the place.

   Yet when she sees you, her furrowed brows and piercing eyes soften. You are the prettiest thing. The one who calms her down.

   “ Mi princesa,” she whispers in your ear, purposely tickling you to hear your adorable giggles. 

   It's her habit to push you into a tight room and eat you out. “O- oh..” you moan as your lifted leg exposes the cunt she's devouring. “A- ah.. I'm- I’m cum–” 

   Just when you're about to reach your high, she stops and kisses you on the lips, leaving you high and wet. Such a fucking tease.

    She laughs at your grumpy face. Frustrated from all the teasing. “Come on, cara bonita, smile for me.” You roll your eyes at her which makes her laugh louder.

   But when she touches you and you reject her, that's when you get too cocky. All of a sudden, you find yourself bending over her lap while she spanks each cheek exposed from your lack of undergarments. 

   “Estás probando tu suerte, mi putita.”

   Her degrading nicknames for you only wets your pussy more. You wince at every smack hitting your skin. Your ass eventually came red and thoroughly spank. You apologize for testing your luck. 

   “I- I'm sorry, mami. ” You mewl in softly and she lets you go. She massages your soft skin until she can't help but dip her fingers in your wet cunt. Then eventually leaving you longing for more.

   Night time drops and the endless calls kept coming, it was boring you. You can't wait to feel her touch on your greedy pussy anymore. You whine and sigh on the side while she talks business on the phone.

   You decide not to wait anymore. You walk closer to her and put her lap under your bare cunt. “Hi..” you whisper gently with a sweet smile as you hang your arms on her shoulders.

   “ Si- si– Mami, what is this? – porque? si, ahuevo– What are you doing? That's what I said, exactly the plan– ”

   “Ignore me.” You say as you kiss her jaw, her neck, exposed arms covered in hot tattoos. You even lick it, and suck her skin, leaving a mark of territory. A low rumble on her chest causes to slip out because of your stunts. You smirk and start to thrust your hips. You fix your sitting, trapping only her right thigh then continued to rub your bare pussy on her cargo pants. You start to undress yourself as the friction on your clit feels so good and dry at the same time. 

    You look her in the eye while she speaks to the phone, you suck three of your fingers wet before putting it on your clit to drench it with saliva. Then you continue to hump on her thigh, your clit and pussy hole pleasured yet aching for more as you arch your back. Your bare chest presents your tits closer to the woman busy with a call. 

    You moan at your own cause. You grind faster as she catches a grip on your hip, but you don't stop. You play with your nipples, pinching the hardened buttons and squeezing your mound as you throw your head back from the self-inflicted pleasure.

   The knot on your abdomen was threatening to explode. You keep your pace on her thigh, you squirm from the friction against the cotton and your sensitive clit. Valeria watches you as you play with yourself. She was impressed when you made yourself cum with just her thighs. 

   Your pace slowed down, gently rubbing your core on her thighs. Your mouth hangs open as you ease the climax down. Your eyes are forced to widen when you feel her grip pull you to face the other way, to lie your back on her chest, she creeps her in your legs. The pad of her fingers encircles your glossy clit from your orgasm. 

   You writhe under her touch as she awakens the flame of pleasure on your cunt. “ Yes, it will be delivered in time .” She tells the other person on the phone. If her Spanish is fucking sexy, her English accent is even hotter. You moan in her ear as you throw your head back and fall on her torso.

   “Si, mami.” you whimper as she inserts her finger, sliding them in and out of your sopping cunt. Your hips move in circles, you can't help it. You were meeting the rhythm of her digits.

   She uses her free knee to spread your legs wider and cup your pussy, massage its sensitive nub, scoop delicious juices as she inserts fingers rapidly in a pace that feels good for you.

   “Si, it'll be coming shortly.” She cleverly replied to the phone before dropping the call and focused on her beautiful needy slut.

[skzdarlings]

saturday mornings | the threesome series ; skz ; chan/reader/seungmin

masterlist.

threesome series part 1/4. -

pairing: bang chan/reader/kim seungmin content info: sexual content. threesome. established relationship. bdsm. dom!chan, sub!reader, sadistic sub!seungmin lol. these three have an established dynamic that they are very familiar with, involves lots of teasing with reader as the "good" submissive and seungmin as the "brat" who coerces her into being "bad" with him. tone indicates this is all clearly playful. physically rougher elements, daddy/sir titles, baby girl pet name, punishment play, implact play, filming sexual acts, oral sex, face-slapping (not reader), bondage, shower sex, orgasm denial.

they all luv each other n they like to have fun lol ;)

-

You wake to a kiss on your forehead and blink your sleepy eyes open to a smiling Chan.  He is perched on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his baseball cap and work-out clothes.  The pale light around the curtain tells you it is still very early morning.   

You stretch under the covers, groaning as you take him in.

“Why are you dressed?”  Your voice is rough with sleep.  “Come back to bed.” 

You try to string your arms around his neck but he laughs and lowers them to the bed. 

“Just meeting Changbin at the gym,” he says.  “Then I gotta run to work for a sec—”

You slap your hands on the covers and pout. 

“Work?” you ask miserably.  “But it’s Saturday.  You promised—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby,” he says.  He holds your face in both his hands and swoops down to plant another kiss on your forehead.  He follows it up with a kiss on each cheek, then he nuzzles your nose with a goofy little giggle.  He is diabolical, knowing you are helpless to resist him being so silly.  You smile back.       

“Promise I’ll be fast,” he says.  He strokes his thumb over your cheek.  His dimples are deep with his smile, but his lifted eyebrow colours his gaze with suggestion.  “You’ll be good for me today, yeah?” he asks.  “Follow all my rules?”

He is still smiling, still speaking in a soft, pleasant voice, but you feel the shift in energy.  It wakes the rest of you with a flush of warmth.  You wet your lips and nod, looking at him with your most innocent, baby-girl eyes. 

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you say, leaning your cheek into his hand.  His thumb slips over your bottom lip and gives it a little touch.  “I’m always good.”

“I know, baby,” he says.  He smiles when you kiss the pad of his thumb, winks when he flicks your bottom lip cutely.  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” 

You follow the direction of his gaze.  Seungmin is fast asleep on your other side, one leg out of the covers, laying on his front and clutching a pillow.  Seungmin tends to bat away cuddle advances when awake but he sleeps like a clingy koala bear.  You are the opposite, snuggling up when conscious and kicking the boys away in your sleep.  Seungmin usually curls around Chan when sleeping and he looks very bereft in slumber without him.  You can’t help but smile even though you know Chan’s words are right: Seungmin is a troublemaker. 

“I’ll make sure he’s good,” you say to Chan, a promise you both know will be hard to keep. 

“Hope so,” Chan says.  He leans down for a chaste kiss, lingering close to your mouth when he says, “See you later, baby girl.  Be good for me, yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna say bye to Seungmin?” you ask when he stands up.

Chan adjusts the brim of his cap and just grins. 

“Uh, yeah, I already tried that,” he says.  “He’s a brat.  Give him a kiss for me later.  Love you both.”

“Love you too,” you say.  Your voice goes rough as you snuggle into the bedcovers, falling back to sleep.  The last thing you see is Chan’s affectionate smile.   

You wake a while later to warmth along your backside and a weight on your hips.  You stir, groggy, taking a second to register everything. 

The curtains are open and the golden glow of morning is shining in the bedroom.  The bedcovers have been pushed down but you don’t feel cold.  Seungmin is awake behind you, his arm draped over your middle.  True to troublemaking form, he already has a hand between your thighs, just resting over your shorts.  When he feels you waking, he cups you a little more deliberately. 

“Seungmin,” you mumble sleepily, “Daddy’s not here.  You shouldn’t be doing that.” 

“That’s so sad for Chan,” Seungmin says with a lot of cheeky sass, grinning a big boxy grin.  He never addresses Chan properly, not even to his face, not without a lot of effort on Chan’s part. 

Seungmin’s disrespect always makes you tingle because you could neverbehave that way.   You love being good.  You also love that Seungmin does not.   

“He should have thought about that before he went to work on a Saturday,” Seungmin says. 

“He said sorry,” you reply. 

You can practically hear Seungmin’s eye-roll. 

“Then it’s okay, I guess,” Seungmin says sarcastically. 

He is already touching you through your shorts, his knuckle gently rubbing back-and-forth and making all those nerves come alive with need.  

Seungmin is a veritable pussy addict.  Despite being equally submissive to Chan, Seungmin has trained you according to his own insatiable desires.  It only takes one look from Seungmin to go from resting to fully turned on.  He can spend hours curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out, rubbing your clit.  Hours more laying between your thighs with his mouth wet and soft, kissing and licking and tongue-fucking you until you are a wrung-out mess. 

He is more than half the reason you always wet by the time Chan finally puts his hands on you.   Then it’s you who gets teased for being wet all the time, Seungmin just grinning behind you with that smartass grin.   

He wastes no time this morning, warming you up through your shorts then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband.

“Seungmin,” you whine.  “We’re not supposed to…” 

“Stop crying,” he says, shoving his other arm under your body to hook it around you.  He pulls you tight against him while he works his hand into your shorts.  “I won’t make you come, crybaby,” he says. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say.

You pout but admittedly make little effort to stop him.  You should, knowing very well Chan’s number one rule is no coming without his permission, but you are lethargic with sleepy contentedness and his fingers feel so good.  You figure as long as you don’t come, indulging just a little touch won’t do any harm…

You should have known better.  It doesn’t take much for Seungmin to work you up completely.  You buck your hips as if to escape his hand but your shorts keep him trapped.  You squirm in his arms at the same time your legs thoughtlessly spread. 

“Seungmin,” you say, panting against your pillow. 

“Yes?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he’s doing.  He holds you tighter when you start to wriggle.  “Relax,” he says.  “Just don’t come.  Be a good girl,” he says it like a punchline, dry and humorous. 

“You know his rules—”

“Who?”

“Daddy—”

“Who?”

“Chan!”  Saying his name puts you over the edge.  Chan’s dominance is softer by nature but Seungmin likes to provoke him so you have seen his mean side often.  Imagining his reaction to your bad behaviour has you coming hard on Seungmin’s fingers.   

Seungmin, like the demon he is, strokes you through your orgasm and a little past it, laughing in your ear when you whimper from oversensitivity.  You have never known someone to be so sadistic and submissive at once.  Seungmin likes to make you cry even more than Chan does.  It gets Chan all huffy and mean, then he really puts Seungmin in his place.

Satisfied with his evil deed, Seungmin lets you go and flops onto his back.   You roll over to glare at him, trying to ignore the lingering thump in your pussy.  It feels like a heartbeat skipping beats, erratic when Seungmin smiles and puts his wet fingers in his mouth to suck.  He makes a dramatic mmmmm sound, then sticks out his tongue at you. 

“You’re mean,” you say. 

“I’m telling Chan you came,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. 

Your heart is really skipping beats now.  You climb on top of him and try to get there first.  He beats you to it and holds you back, cackling his mischievous little ha-ha as he opens it up.   His phone background is a picture of the three of you on holiday, crammed together and giggling in a hammock, and the cuteness is at serious odds with his wickedness. 

“Seungmin, don’t!” you say, trying to swipe at his phone.  “That’s not fair, I didn’t even wanna!”

“Liar,” he says.  He closes his phone and looks at you with a smirk.  “I won’t tell him but you have to do what I want.” 

“What do you want?” you ask, regarding him with scrutiny.   Last time he said that, he came inside you without Chan’s permission and earned you both two weeks of edging and denial as punishment.  Seungmin insisted it was your fault, that he was going to pull out when you wrapped around him, so Chan punished you both ‘to be fair.’   Seungmin always gets away with roping you into his punishments because you don’t argue with Chan, so you eye him warily now. 

He swipes his bangs out of his face and looks down his own body.  You follow his gaze, stopping on the obvious bulge in his boxers.  You look at him and he pokes his tongue into his cheek.   

“Fine,” you say, playfully petulant.  “Just this once.  You better keep my secret.”

He mimes zipping his lips shut. 

You crawl down to fit between his thighs as he spreads them, making room.  He grabs his glasses off the bedside table and pops them on, then he opens his phone again. 

“Let’s make a video for Chan,” he says.

“Seungmin,” you say, glaring at the camera then up at him.  “He won’t like us fooling around.” 

“He will,” Seungmin says, smiling down at his phone.  “You look pretty, crybaby.  Now go.” 

You glare at him one more time then move down, tugging his boxers off his hips.  He is already hard, twitching in your hand before your lips graze the head.  You look up at the camera as you lick and suck, closing your eyes when diving down the length of him.  He puts his free hand in your hair and guides you, tells you to slow down, makes you drool on it before he snaps his hips up.   You take it with practiced skill, but you can’t help the way your eyes water, living up to Seungmin’s mean nickname for you. 

“Hold still,” he says, lifting your head. 

You think he must be close, that he is stopping you before he comes, but you look up and see he is still filming.  He smiles, his free hand jumping from your hair to his dick.  It only take a few swift strokes before he’s coming all over the side of your face.  He swipes his fingers in it and shoves them in your mouth before you can get mad at him, not for the mess but simply because he came when he knows it’s against the rules. 

You say his name, though it comes out garbled around his fingers.  He rubs his fingers over your tongue as if fucking your mouth, then he gives another ha-ha before he finally stops filming.  His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop and he swings away.  He tugs up his boxers as he gets out of bed. 

“Seungmin!” you say, wiping your face on the hem of your shirt.  You leap out of bed to grab his phone only for him to sprint into the next room.  “Seungmin!” you say again, running after him.  “You can’t send that!  You’re gonna get us in trouble!” 

“Why would I get in trouble?” he asks, typing away at his phone from behind the kitchen counter.  “You were the one with my dick in your mouth.”

You chase him around the kitchen island until you are both giggling.  He spins around and catches you unexpectedly, playfully roaring in your face with a weak little raaawr.  He pretends to bite your neck while you giggle and push at him. 

“You won’t be so funny when he gets home,” you say, to which he just repeats what you said in a mocking tone.   You smack the top of his head as he directs you to the living room couch.  “You’re such a bully.  You promised not to tell.”

“And I didn’t,” he says, kissing your neck lightly then sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  “If you don’t tell him what you did, he won’t know.”  He looks at you, that mischievous grin back on his face.  “Unless you feel guilty and tell him.”   

You pout, making him laugh. 

“I’m so nice all the time,” you say with a melodramatic flourish, waving your hand.  “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.”

“I’m nice,” Seungmin says.  “See, your shirt’s dirty, let me help.” 

You playfully wrestle when he tries to lift your shirt off.  You let him win, squeaking then jumping onto the couch where he chases you.  He climbs on top of you and starts kissing you, messy wet licks into your mouth then down your neck and chest.  You clench your thighs around him but he wriggles his shoulders between your legs, smiling at you.  You barely pretend to fight when he tugs your shorts down, then his glasses go crooked and his mouth is on your pussy through your underwear. 

You whine his name and rake your fingers through his hair.   He tugs the fabric out of his way and licks up your still wet pussy, being as messy as possible. 

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, surfacing for a second.   His glasses are still askew and his face is wet.  He smiles dreamily at your pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down.  “What if Chan got home right now,” he slips his fingers inside you, “and saw you like this?”  He sighs as if disappointed, casually fixing his glasses with one hand and fucking you with the other one.  “He’d be so mad.” 

“He’s at work,” you say, eyes closed. 

“Is he?” Seungmin asks.  “I think he’s outside the door.”

Your breath catches and you look at the door.  Seungmin has no way of knowing if that’s true but you gasp anyway, legs closing around his hand.  He pushes them apart, then gets up on his knees for better leverage. 

“Seungmin,” you say, grabbing his arm but not stopping him.  His fingers are curling inside you, rubbing against a tender spot that has your vision swimming.  “Ohh, Seungmin, please—”

“Ohh, Seungmin, please,” he mimics.  “You’re not coming, are you, crybaby?”

You shake your head, making a show of sniffling and looking at him with purposefully teary eyes.  He rolls his thumb back and forth over your clit.

“The doorknob is turning,” Seungmin says.  “He’s gonna see you.” 

“No, I’m not—”

“He’s walking inside—”

You come with a cry, tossing your head back and squeezing his fingers between your legs.   Chan is not actually home and Seungmin is just a menace, but that menace does cover you in kisses when you are done coming all over his hand. 

You lay on the couch for a bit, feeling each other up and kissing, then Seungmin leans back to grin at you.

“Two for you, one for me,” he says.  “I’m doing better than you.”

You swat at him.

You eventually start the day for real, going about your usual weekend routine.  Chan never answers Seungmin’s video text, but Seungmin shows you that he definitely saw it.  The little READ subscript reveals he watched it only seconds after getting it. 

You are reading a book in the afternoon when Seungmin gets back from a walk.  He kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch.  You try to ignore how distractingly handsome he looks with his hair pushed back, casual but sexy in denim.  You can tell he wants to mess around so you pointedly ignore him and turn the page of your book. 

He tugs on the sleeve of your shirt then rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What,” you say in a dry voice. 

“It’s getting late,” Seungmin says.  “Chan still hasn’t answered us.”   

“Hm.”  You turn another page despite not retaining anything.  “So?”

“So.”  He touches your chin and turns your face to his.  “We should make another video.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” you say, closing your book.  “You’re just gonna do something you’re not supposed to again.”

“What, me?” he says.  He flicks some hair out of his eyes and laughs.  “I don’t think so.” 

“I do.  You’re evil and you’re not dragging me down with you.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.  And nothing you say can change my mind.”

A few minutes later, you are curled over the arm of the couch, clutching a cushion while Seungmin fucks you from behind and films it.  He’s down to just his open jeans, the denim rough against your skin when he pulls you onto him again and again. 

“Mmmf,” is the noise you make, groaning into the cushion.  “You better not come again.”

“Worry,” he says, panting, “about,” he slows down a little, “yourself.”  He takes another breath and speeds up again. 

“I’m at no risk of—” Your overconfident proclamation is interrupted when Seungmin expertly circles your throat and yanks you up.  You whine and claw at him but he roughly manoeuvres you onto your back. 

“Hi baby,” he says with a sarcastic little wave, phone camera pointed down at your scowling face.  He frowns with exaggeration.  “You gonna cry again?”

“No.”  You try to kick him, pushing at his chest with your foot.  He just scoops that leg onto his shoulder and presses himself back inside you.  “This was Seungmin’s idea, daddy,” you say, covering your face with your hands.  “I was being good, I promise.” 

Seungmin just mimics your voice and grinds into you.  One hand holds the phone and the other slips down.  His thumb rubs softly and simply over your clit until you are whimpering again.    

“That’s not fair,” you say with a little hiccup.   

“Should be easy for you,” Seungmin says.  “Chan’s good little girl, right?” 

“Ugh, shut uuup, you’re the worst—”

“The rest of you would disagree, good girl,” he says.  He tips his head, looking at the phone, so you can only assume he is zooming in on your pussy gushing around his cock as he rocks in and out.  “Uh oh,” he says when you squeeze him inside you.  He knows your body well by now, having wrung countless orgasms out of you, so he is grinning before you even start coming.  “Three, two, one…!  Ha-ha.”      

You make a shaky, shuddery sound as you come, barely recovered before his hand is around your throat and he is fucking you in chase of his own completion.   There’s no point in even pretending to protest.  You just sigh and reach down, holding your thighs open as he moans and groans for show, coming inside you.   He takes his time filming it after, sweeping his fingers around to show Chan the mess he made.   He must turn the camera to selfie mode because he starts smiling his mean, puppyish grin into the screen. 

“See you later, old man,” Seungmin says.  “If you can even get it up after working all day.” 

He stops filming and laughs you when you frown at him. 

“Do you have to make it even worse?” you ask. 

“Yes.  Don’t ask stupid questions.”  He swoops down and kisses your forehead.  “Come on, crybaby, let’s have a shower.  Unless you want to be full of cum when he gets home—”

“Hmmph!”  You give him a indignant pout, but you get up when he helps you. 

You share the shower.  You keep pretending to be mad at him, only giggling a little when he touches a few ticklish spots.  He knows they are ticklish so he is just being mean, but he does compensate with little kisses over your back and shoulders.  

He stands behind you, kissing down your neck as you tip your head, the hot water rushing down your front.  Your eyes are closed against the spray but also from pleasure, smiling to yourself as he nips at your skin then licks over the bite. 

“No marks,” you say without much verve.  “You know that’s another rule.”

“That’s okay,” he says, smirking into your shoulder.  His hand starts to slide down the front of your body.  “You’ve already broken the rules, so…”

“Seungmin,” you say, your scolding tone contradictory to the way you rock your ass against his growing hard-on.   You giggle, holding onto his wrist but not stopping his descent.  “We shouldn’t,” you say. 

“He’s right,” comes a voice from the doorway. “You already broke the rules anyway, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fly open.  You look through the glass wall of the shower to see Chan leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed.  He is still dressed for the office, suit and tie, though he is already barefoot.  His dark hair is neatly styled, his eyes darkly lined, a diamond stud on his nose and his ears.   He lifts his eyebrows and tips his head, the expression more than a little condescending. 

“Whoops,” Seungmin says with a laugh. 

Chan exhales, unsmiling. 

You turn the water off and slide the glass door open.   The shower is a big, roomy space with two showerheads, leaving Seungmin plenty of room to step back.  He rolls his eyes and somehow manages to look belligerent despite his nudity.  You are a far more repentant sight with your watery eyes and pouty lips, naked and damp and innocent as can be. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry, sir, daddy, sir,” you say, shaking your head.  “I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t listen.  You believe me, right?” 

Chan doesn’t say anything.  He just looks at you with the vaguest hint of amusement in his eyes.  Then he looks away with a sigh, unbuttoning his blazer.   He shakes his head as he peels it off and approaches the shower. 

“I don’t know what to believe, baby girl,” he says.  The blazer hits the floor and he loosens his tie next.  “Ya know I had to leave work early because of this?” he says.  He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows then his gentle hand reaches out to cup your chin.

You shiver from the coolness of the room, from his touch, from his gaze.  You do not dare look away from his eyes, not even to see Seungmin’s face.  You do not doubt he is just frowning and rolling his eyes anyway. 

Chan presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth dutifully.  He rests it on your tongue.   

“I don’t have a lot of rules, yeah?”  Chan says.  “Don’t you think I’m fair?”  

“Mhm,” you say, nodding, lips pursed around his thumb. 

“Did you not understand the rules?” he asks.  “You’re not stupid, baby. I’d find that hard to believe.”

You don’t answer, knowing you are guilty and there is little to say in your defence.  Chan just sighs and slips his thumb out of your mouth.  He cups your cheek and lovingly strokes it. 

“You know I’m disappointed, don’t you, baby?” he says.  “How many times did you break the rules today?”

“I’m sorry!” you say in a rush.  “Seungmin really did start it, though.  I was just in bed and he made me—”

“How many times?”    

“Five,” you say, sniffling.  “Three for me, two for Seungmin.  It really was his fault, though, you know I would never—”

“I know what he’s like, baby,” Chan says. He is speaking in an easy, calm voice as he draws his fingers down your chin, your neck, the middle of your chest until he has a breast cupped in his hand.  You try to keep a neutral expression when he rubs his thumb over its peak.  “But you know you’re responsible for yourself, yeah?”

He lets go and reaches past you to turn on the water.  It is a light, warm spray that makes you jump with surprise.  He surprises you again by stepping into the shower almost completely dressed.  He backs you into the wall as the water runs over his white dress shirt, turning it translucent. 

Seungmin finally scoffs, the sound mixed with a laugh. 

“You’re getting your clothes wet, weirdo,” he says. 

Chan’s gentle expression hardens.  You jump when his hand shoots out, grabbing Seungmin roughly by the throat.  Seungmin grabs onto his wrist, clearly surprised given the way his breath catches.  He tries to hide it with a grin, lifting his eyebrows when Chan looks at him.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, Seungmin,” he says.  He chokes a little gasp out of him then lets go, looking at you again.  “Come here, baby,” he says softly.  “You know what I have to do.” 

You know he means a punishment, but you don’t know which one.  Chan is tantalizingly unpredictable in that regard. 

You nod, stepping where he gestures, under the showerhead but just behind the spray so none of the water hits you.  You shiver again, your nipples hard and skin breaking into goosebumps.  You meet Seungmin’s eye over Chan’s shoulder, Seungmin looking at you with gleeful anticipation even while rubbing his throat.  From where he is standing, he must also feel the chill, the same prickling awareness of his skin, the air like a constant kiss all over your body.      

The water hits Chan on the shoulder, running down his chest and side.  His shirt is sticking to him, drawing your eye to the ridges of muscle down his abdomen.  He taps your chin to lift your gaze, keeping your eyes locked while he undoes his tie and whips it off. 

“Open,” he says.  

You part your lips and he puts the tie in your mouth, wrapping the rest around your head.  He reaches behind you and secures it with a knot.   He taps your side, confirming the usual mute communication for when your mouth is covered.  You nod and he smiles, tapping your cheek approvingly. 

He reaches for his belt next, looking you over with heady eyes.  You shiver at the clink of metal and whistle of leather.

“Hands,” he says. 

You offer them and wait as he ties his belt in neat loops around your wrists.  Your heart leaps when he yanks your bound hands up above your head and hooks the belt over the neck of the showerhead.  He slides it backwards, making you follow until your back is flat to the cold wall.  You make a startled, pained noise into the gag, flush with the sudden cold.  The temperature shock is a stark contrast to the heat spreading between your thighs.  You can do little relieve the ache, balanced on the front of your feet.   

“That’s a good girl,” Chan says with one last parting look, dimples sweetly smiling at your predicament.  Then he sighs, slicking back his now damp hair.  Maybe his make-up is just turning smoky with the heat, but you swear his eyes literally darken when he turns to face a grinning Seungmin.  “Now.  You.” 

You might prefer Chan’s gentle daddy dominance more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like watching his mean sir routine when it comes to Seungmin.  Because Seungmin does not like it gentle.   You live vicariously through the thrills of their rougher play. 

It never disappoints.  You mewl like a surprised kitten when Chan backhands Seungmin, catching him before he can stumble.  Even his catch is rough, a hand over his mouth and his other arm hooked around his neck.  He presses Seungmin into the glass wall, his cheek flat to the cool surface.  You feel a shiver of empathy. 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Chan asks.

There is a moment of quiet as Seungmin clearly contemplates surrendering or continuing.   Then he nods.  Chan’s laugh is breathy, his gaze turned upward in exasperation. 

He releases his mouth and swings his hand down on Seungmin’s backside.  You never imagined being so jealous of a spanking, but you are starting to feel like you got the worse punishment after all.  You are forced to merely watch as Seungmin squirms in Chan’s firm grip.  You are certain those marks will bruise, darkening alongside some older ones still purpling his skin. 

After a thorough spanking, Chan turns him around.  Seungmin thuds onto his knees when forced down.  Chan places him where the water can reach and Seungmin stretches upright on his knees, trying to escape where pebbles of water hit his smarting skin.  Chan smacks him and it splits Seungmin’s attention, on his cheek and his backside at once. 

You thought Seungmin was mean for lightly finger-fucking your mouth earlier, but that favour gets more than repaid.  Chan shoves two fingers far enough into Seungmin’s mouth that he chokes, attention fracturing yet again as he haphazardly grabs the offending hand by the wrist.  

Chan tugs his fingers free, a trail of spit connecting them to Seungmin’s open mouth. 

Seungmin blinks his dizzy dark eyes upward.  Chan gazes back, cool and unbothered, while unbuttoning his pants.  Seungmin looks ready to speak but Chan just shakes his head.   

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and tugging him close.  “Just don’t.” 

Seungmin is so funny, calling you a crybaby only to get all dribbly from a little face-fucking.  It’s hot, though, and Seungmin is fully hard now.  His hands are on Chan’s clothed thighs, functionally so he can tap out, but doubly affecting in how he can’t touch himself because of it.  You think you can see his mental space shift in real time, going from petulant brat to something else, something content and quiet and physical.  

He gasps and leaves his mouth hanging open when Chan pulls out.  He flinches when Chan taps his cheek.   Chan just smiles. 

“That’s better,” he says.  He reaches out and snaps off the water.  It makes Seungmin shiver and you follow in sympathy.   “Come on,” Chan says, kicking at him lightly.  “Get up.  This way.” 

Seungmin stumbles when Chan grabs his bicep and yanks.   You whimper with jealousy when Chan kisses him, a filthy hot kiss that makes you tingle from head to toe.  Fortunately, you do not have to suffer much longer.  Chan manhandles Seungmin until he is facing you.  The mischief has been replaced with hazy desire, his eyes watery and mouth so pink and raw. 

“On your knees,” Chan says, pushing at Seungmin’s shoulder. 

Seungmin takes in a shaky breath but nods, getting back down on his knees in front of you.  Chan grabs his hair and yanks his head back, looking down at him. 

“You forgetting something?” Chan asks. 

“Sorry, sir,” Seungmin says.  “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Chan lets him go.   He helps guide your leg over Seungmin’s shoulder, cooing sweet nothings at you when you make a startled sound because he lifts the other leg too.  It raises you completely off the ground, both legs over Seungmin’s shoulders, weight partially supported by Chan and partially by the shower.   You are completely suspended, simply sitting pretty while Seungmin eats you out. 

Of course, Chan doesn’t let you finish.  He tells Seungmin to stop and start a few more times before he finally lets you down.   Your feet touch the ground again, though you rest your weight on the wall, your legs shaking. 

Chan sweeps Seungmin’s hair out of his face and tips his head back. 

“You have something to say now?”  Chan asks. 

“No, sir,” Seungmin replies, his voice rough. 

“You gonna listen to me?”  Chan asks, to which Seungmin nods.  “Good.  Then get up and do what I say.  You ready?” 

Seungmin’s job is a step ahead of yours.  Chan is still helping you out of the shower by the time Seungmin reaches the bedroom.  You sit perched on the counter, towelling yourself dry while Chan strips out of his wet clothes.  You are about to step down when Chan scoops you up.  You suppose you have lost the privilege to run ahead at will, just in case you get any funny ideas, but you don’t mind if Chan is holding you.  You cling onto him, legs and arms wrapped around him as he carries you into the bedroom where Seungmin is waiting. 

Chan lays you out beside him and waves a hand, giving Seungmin permission to kiss you.   Seungmin eagerly sprawls on top of you, kissing and licking and moaning while Chan gets up behind him. 

Your punishments appear to be contrary, you unfucked and untouched thanks to your several stolen orgasms, and Seungmin the overwhelmed subject thanks to his provocations.   It’s him Chan fucks now, you laying under him, kissing his face as he grunts and groans and whines.  Your shared kisses are breathy, gasping things. 

You twitch and buck with wanting, feeling emptier than you ever have, while Seungmin digs his fingers into the bedspread, rocking against you while Chan rocks into him.   

Seungmin comes first for once, helped along by your hands desperately seeking more, more, more.  He comes all over you, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.  Chan pulls out and finishes with a few strokes of his own hand, coming on that bruised and purple backside. 

Fucking you both is one thing, but Chan’s work is truly cut out for him in the aftermath.  But your loving boyfriend never falters, doing everythign to ensure you are both settled and soothed.  Some days you return the favour, lovingly doting on your careful dominant, but today is a day he massages and kisses and takes care of you both.  

You take care of Seungmin too, kissing his face.  He is sandwiched between you and Chan, letting you both love up on him until his character comes back to him, then he starts thrashing around with playful dramatics.   Chan giggles in that silly way of his and wraps him up, covering his shoulders with kisses while Seungmin glares at you like a disgruntled puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease, giving him a little kiss.  “This was all your fault anyway.  I’m a good girl.”

Seungmin grins at that.  Chan just shakes his head, but smiles deeply.  He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close.  Seungmin, trapped in the middle, whines and groans, but he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.    

[blakeprentiss]

unspoken

emily prentiss x reader

warnings: smut, alcohol

a/n: fun little thing i came up with

(my gif)

***

people have unspoken rules everywhere. you and emily? no exception.

it started at okeefe’s one night after a particularly bad case, the two of you taking it worse than normal. victims looked like emily while having similar childhoods to yours. you found yourself knocking back more drinks than usual, emily doing the same.

it was only a matter of time before your drinks caught up to you. announcing your departure, you stood up for the bathroom. “i’ll go with you,” emily said. it was just one of those unspoken rules. girls always go to the bathroom in groups. what happened in that bathroom, though, was definitely not something that groups of women always do.

soon enough, it became an unspoken rule to you two.

now, it was down to routine.

a few drinks in, you’d make your way to the bathroom, emily tagging along. she’d push you into the small bathroom, using her strength to pin you against the counter. tongue deep in your mouth, she’d make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans while your own hands found their way under her shirt.

time was always of the essence, so your pants never came down past your needs. her hand would slide your underwear to the side, and thanks to the effect she has on you when inebriated, you were always dripping for her. your hand finds her nipple as hers finds your clit, your moans perfectly time. one, two, three fingers dive into your cunt as you pull your head back.

as she fucks you, emily often takes a moment to look in the mirror. without fail, she feels herself get more turned on as she looks at you in the mirror, eyes closed and mouth agape with pleasure. she smiles to herself, grateful for that little unspoken rule you two share.

like clockwork, however, she’s pulled away from her reflection as she feels your pussy clenching around her, your orgasm imminent. she tangles her free hand into your hair, pulling you upright and resting your head in the crook of her neck. nothing but praise is whispered in your ear, only pushing you further to the edge. you all but leave a bite mark on her shoulder, muffled moans making their way into her skin as you finish around her.

she pulls out moments later, erotically sucking your juices from her fingers before she fixes your appearance. still coming down from your high, you bring emily in for another kiss. it’s brief, a promise that it’ll happen later, sooner than you think.

you two make your way back out, stopping at the bar for a final drink. you dance with jj, watch garcia lose to reid in pool, and bid your farewells to the others at the table. emily does the same. after all, it’s so convenient to share a cab when you live on the way to her place.

except, she never goes back to her place. you always invite her up for a nightcap, which turns into a night spent entangled in the sheets and each other. a night of slow, proper fucking, something that just can’t be done in a bar bathroom. a night of falling asleep in her arms, only to wake up with her gone.

it’s never for long, though. she comes back bearing an iced coffee and the best bagel in washington, curing your hangover before your drink can start to melt. there’s a shower, a quick goodbye, and a soft kiss.

and then you have to wait for the next time. after all, even if there’s feelings on both sides, it’s probably better to leave them unspoken.

right?

[jolalibrary]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you�� Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

[roachspeaks]

King!Sukuna x Princess!Gojo!Reader

Part 1 to a possible series? If it’s something the people would like to see. Ideas and feedback are very appreciated. MDNI

Warnings: smut, Sukuna doing another woman, brother Gojo, young child Choso(it will come together later trust me), mentions of Sukuna cumming in another woman(nameless faceless concubine), Sukuna being a little bit of a dick, fluffy material?, uraume being possibly ooc?, Sukuna being slightly sexist(i think), cursing,(let me know if i missed anything)

MDNI

Arranged.

You’d always hated the word. Your soon to be marriage wasn't arranged. It was just seen as a fact. Something you’d endure for the sake of your kingdom, the survival of your family and people. You had no choice in the matter and you hated it. One of the downsides of being a princess in a falling kingdom. An enemy kingdom, ruled over by the infamous king, Sukuna. Threatened siege if there wasn’t an agreement. A compromise. He wanted heirs, and trade from your family. But you suppose that was just a perk of being a Gojo. Always highly desired, and yet making enemies everywhere. Your brother, Satoru, wanted to fight it. But that was what he always wanted to do. Fight against the inevitable. Your family saw it easier to just hand you over. That way there would be no war, and they’d gain an ally. As well as more heirs to both the Gojo line, and partially the Sukuna one as well. The elders in your family viewing the arrangement as beneficial on all accounts, send you off as soon as they can. Satoru, your precious baby brother, insists on accompanying you to make sure you’re safe on your journey. You want to refuse his offer, you want to keep him safe within the walls of your childhood home, but he’s stubborn. 

So now, you sit in a puffy white dress your parents, the king and queen, had practically forced you into. Claiming it would make you look like more of a presentable bride. You ride on your horse, a cloudy white stallion contrasting Satoru’s jet black mare. You’d always had a habit of doing the opposite of one another. Opposite temperaments, opposite passions, opposite opinions. Most notably opposite opinions. He adores his freedom. Sure he has his responsibilities as crown prince, but he has gotten extremely talented at avoiding those things. You however, do not have that luxury. You're the eldest, the most responsible, dependable, the one your family knows they can put pressure on. You love your family, more than the silly freedoms and indulgences that Satoru chases. 

“You look ridiculous.” He smiles teasingly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a sadness in his piercing blues. You can’t even imagine Satoru admitting to the fact that he’s gonna miss you, but you know. He hopes you know.

“What? You don’t like my bridal attire?” You chide back. Raising your nose at him in a sort of mock offense. 

“You look like a cream puff.” He bursts out into laughter, and you can’t help but giggle(more modestly than his loud, obnoxious hysterics). You were gonna miss his laugh. 

“Oh please. You couldn’t pull this off.” You roll your eyes jokingly. He snorts, but then his face falls a fraction. He’s not smiling, his mouth in a tight, tense line. His eyes drift to where he holds his leather reins. The edges digging into the pale flesh of his hands. 

“If you ever need me…” He starts, glancing between his hands and you. 

“I’ll write you, I promise.” You smile that kind signature that he’d grown to both love and hate. He hated that your kindness made you a target for your families agenda. He recognized a long time ago that the only reason either of you existed was for the benefit of the Gojo line, and he refused to fall in line with what they wanted. He just wished you’d fight with him…

“If that Sukuna bastard lays a hand on you,” If he got any angrier at the thought, there’d be steam leaking out from his ears. “I’ll kill him.” He finishes confidently. As if there was no way he could lose. And you believe in him. In the dedication and loyalty carved into his features. 

“You think you’d win in a fight against the cursed king?” She chuckles slightly. 

“Oh yeah, I’d win.” He grins proudly. So incredibly sure of himself. But that was just Satoru, and you loved him for it. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, uneventful. Then you notice as the environment around you starts to change. As you loom closer to Sukuna’s kingdom, the sounds of birds and life fade into silence, and dark clouds roll into the sky seemingly out of nowhere. Both you and Satoru pull on your hooded cloaks as it starts raining heavily. Your loyal steeds not appreciative of the sudden change in scenery, but they press on. It doesn’t take long until you’re at the gates. The walls are tall, made of dark coloured stone. Sharp wooden spikes lining the top of the wall where guards notably patrol. It’s an intimidating sight. 

You are quickly recognized by the guards, just by the look of you and Satoru it’s clear what family you belong to. The large, heavy looking gate is opened, and you both ride slowly into the large open space. Houses stretching far, shops can be seen down one road, while stables can be seen lining another. But the thing that catches your attention is the castle. It’s tall and every part is so…intimidating. Is that truly where you’d be living? This place seems so..devoid of life. Of color and sunlight and joy…

You dismount your horse, thankful that though you may look like a cream puff, your dress reaches just high enough that it doesn't drag on the muddy ground. There is a short, fat, angry looking man that shouts at a small boy to fetch your things from your horses. The boy in question couldn't be older than 12. With a dark brunette head of longer hair, tied up in spiky pigtails, and notable redness under his eyes. Like he’d been recently and frequently crying. As well as a scarred line running from his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to his other cheek. He scrambles to do as the man instructs. But the bags are heavy, so you go to help him. 

“Hey, I’ve got these two. Okay?” You speak softly and sweetly. Helping him with the heavier bags. “What’s your name hun?” You smile.

The boy stares awe struck at you for a couple seconds. His mouth hung open as he stares. Like he was staring at an angel. 

“Choso…I’m Choso, Kamo.” He fumbles over his words. Clearly anxious.

“Well Choso, would you mind helping me bring my things inside.” You Nod to the castle. He seems to squirm at the thought. 

“That’s king Sukuna’s domain, I don’t want to get into trouble..” He speaks quietly.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” You raise an eyebrow to him, and he cracks a little smile. Practically beaming as he helps you with your things. 

You turn to Satoru, drawing him into a tight hug. This could be the last time you ever see your baby brother, and damn if you’d let him get away without one hug.

“Stay out of trouble.” You whisper. “And tell Suguru and Shoko they have my thanks for keeping you safe.” You give him a light squeeze. He returns it silently. 

Then, with a guilt ridden look, he rides off. And you’re left to carry your things into the throne room of the castle. Little Choso at your side. Well really behind you, glancing around nervously at every movement or flicker of candlelight. 

You find the throne room easily, it’s in the center of the castle. But when you arrive at the entrance, the big dark doors. There’s a girl, an advisor from her attire. Long white and black robes, she seemingly guards the entrance. Looking slightly irritated, but mostly just stoic. Her hair is white, with unique red splotches. Cut short, with bangs just almost covering her eyes. When she catches sight of you, she stands up a little straighter(if that was even possible). 

“You’re the Gojo princess, correct?” She speaks respectfully, no malice or ill intention in her words. 

“I am, I was hoping to see lord Sukuna, before anything else.” You speak slowly, and she nods in understanding. 

“He is…occupied. But I'm sure he won't mind your interruption. Too much…” She murmurs the last bit. “ Though I will warn you, the…business he is attending to is not for the eyes of a young boy.” She warns, waiting for your reaction. 

Slightly puzzled, you respond. “Well…would you take Choso here, to where I’ll be staying? To deliver my things.” You glance at Choso, who still looks determined to finish his task in the big scary castle.

“I’d be happy too.” She replies, seemingly relieved to get to leave her place at the door. “Come along then.” She holds her arm out for Choso to walk ahead of her. “Good luck…” She sighs quietly.

You push open the throne room doors, using minimal force that doesn’t get you very far. Stepping through, to a rather shocking and…crude, sight. Your future husband, the king of a kingdom, with a…concubine, in his lap. His cock inside of her as she raises herself up and sinks back down onto him. You seemed to arrive at the most inconvenient moment(for you) because he glances at you, making direct eye contact as he grabs her hips, slamming her back down as he fills her up. Spurts of white dripping out of her gaping hole down her thighs as he unhooks her leg from his own thigh. Pulling out of her harshly. Shoving her off of him as if she was an animal. An object for his use. The woman doesn’t say a word, actually she only says four. Murmuring something about ‘thank you my lord’ as she scurries out of the throne room. Her shawl wrapped around her bare upper half. You take not that her other clothing(what little of it there had been to begin with) had been torn, 

Sukuna looks upon you, with a rather bored expression etched into his face. Resting his head against his hand, his elbow perched on the arm of his throne. He doesn’t bother putting his cock away, still covered in various juices, still standing rock hard.

“Lord Sukuna…” You address him, breaking the weird silence that suffocated the room. 

“Princess.” He looks you slowly up and down. “I’d apologize for the…mess. And the filth..” he glances toward where the woman had scurried off to. “But I don’t care.” He finishes crudely.

“My lord, excuse my bluntness, but why am I here? You’re clearly making an effort to get an heir in…other places.” You speak with a sort of frustration. You’d been dragged to a whole different kingdom, a dreadful one, to find the man who claimed he wanted heirs, spilling himself into another random woman. 

“She cannot give children. Neither can any of the concubines in this castle. They are infertile, deemed undesirable by others in society. But they get their use serving here.” He explains it with such..simplicity. Like it’s the most basic of concepts you don’t understand. 

“And you intend to continue…this, throughout our entire marriage?” You question, growing more irritated at the circumstances.

“If my desires are not satiated.” He rolls his eyes. As if this is boring him further, as if you don’t entertain him. But you aren’t here to entertain him, you’re here to keep your kingdom from war. “Well? Come here.” He orders.

You slowly, begrudgingly make your way over to him. Standing before his throne. Up close, he’s very handsome you have to admit. Pink hair and those intense red eyes…

“Sit.” He pats his thigh. And your eyes widen. You would not sit. Not when he was still dripping in the essence of another woman. Sure, he may be handsome. But your self respect, your dignity, would not allow this. 

“I will do no such thing.” You scoff. Glaring at him with a fury he’d never seen in any woman before. It almost surprises him. Almost. He could play chase, usually he’d bore quickly of cat and mouse, but for a pretty, stubborn little thing like you? This would be fun.

He watches as you storm off, and only when you exit the throne room, does he let his grin spread across his face. He’d have you begging for his cock before the official wedding ceremony, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way through the castles halls, eventually finding Choso sat on a decently sized bed. In a room with large windows. At least it didn’t feel like a prison. 

“You’re still here?” You ask carefully, still recovering from her previous interaction with the cursed king.

“I thought I’d wait for you to find your things, in case you got lost.” He stands from the bed. Looking stiff, like he’d been caught doing something bad.

“Won’t your mom be wanting you home?” You inquire, not meaning anything by it. But Choso’s face sinks. Looking visibly sad. 

“I don’t have a mom, I had my brothers…but they’re gone now.” He mumbles. His eyes drifting to the floor. This poor thing…

After barely a moment, an idea pops into you’re head. You could invite him to stay here with you. Surely Sukuna wouldn’t care(it didn’t seem to you like he cared about much of anything). 

“Choso, would you like to stay here with me? For the night, and if you wanna return to town in the morning, you’re more than welcome.” You offer the same sweet, kind and inviting smile you had when you’d first arrived. He’s practically tearing up as he hops around, excitedly chanting. ‘Yes yes yes yes’. 

That night Choso sleeps beneath the moonlight couch that sights by the window. A couple blankets wrapped around his sleeping form. You lay restless longer than you should. Just staring up at the ceiling. Wanting to be almost anywhere else. You’re grateful for the seperate sleeping arrangements, even if it’s probably only until the wedding. Tomorrow would be better, you’d just avoid Sukuna with his rude, vulgar tendencies. And he could fuck all the concubines he wished. Hopefully when you consummated you’re union, it would just take. Then you’d hopefully never have to do it again. He’d get his heir, and that would be the end of it. Though it’s an unrealistic sentiment, you hope for it to be possible. As you slowly drift off. Plagued with nightmares of some dark creature, four arms, covered in familiar black markings. The ones you’d noticed on Sukuna…

I do not give permission for my writing to be copied, republished, put through ai simulations, or anything of the sort.

If you’d like to add to this, or submit asks and feedback you can and are encouraged to do so through reblogs, comments, and asks. I’d love to interact.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Six of Six of Meddling :( I'm so sad. Part One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Ao3 Link.

And I would once again like to dedicate this story to Cass (@henderdads). I hope it's as fluffy as you like <3

Eddie's location shows that he's back at his apartment like Robin had said. Steve isn’t sure why he thought he would be somewhere dramatic like on some random hill overlooking the city – especially since Eddie doesn’t like heights.  

So, Steve makes the quick drive over to his tiny apartment and sits in the parking lot. It’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.  

They’re finally going to talk.  

Steve makes the familiar walk up to Eddie’s place and hesitates outside. There’s the loud sound of Eddie playing his electric guitar on the other side of the door. He sighs when he realizes it’s “Master of Puppets” which is his so called “battle song” whenever he’s about to face something really bad.  

Well, this isn’t good.  

Steve sits in front of the door and waits for the song to play out. He isn’t going to interrupt Eddie mid verse and piss him off any more than he already has.  

Two people end up passing him in the hall and giving him weird looks, but Steve just smiles up at them tightly and waves. He eventually closes his eyes and leans his head back against the door.  

He’s always enjoyed listening to Eddie play, but he’s never listened when he’s been the source of Eddie’s inspiration. He just wishes it was a good type of inspiration.  

As the song comes to an end, Steve tries to prepare himself to stand up and knock before Eddie starts another one. But he lingers when he hears Eddie curse under his breath and unplug his amp. He hears the muffled, “Goddamnit... lying... son of a... bitch. Oh, this is so stupid, this is so stupid. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”  

And Steve is too busy feeling sorry for himself that he doesn’t register the words are growing louder as the sound of footsteps approach the door. Then, the door opens and Steve falls back against the ground.  

“Steve?” Eddie asks above him.  

Steve groans and grabs his head. He hopes this doesn’t trigger another concussion or migraine.  

“Shit,” Eddie says. He steps over Steve and holds his hand out to help him up. Steve grabs it and lets himself be pulled up and led to the couch. “I’ll be right back,” Eddie promises.  

Next thing he knows, Steve has an ice pack wrapped in a towel placed in his hand. He glances up at Eddie. “I’m fine. I don’t need this.”  

Eddie crosses his arms and looks down at him. “My apartment, my rules. Put the ice pack on your head.”  

Steve feels around for anywhere tender and hisses at one spot he touches a little too hard. It’s not raised or anything, plus he usually has too much adrenaline to feel pain after he’s gotten a concussion, so Steve is pretty sure it’s just a bruise. He puts the ice pack on it anyways, not wanting to argue with Eddie. “Can we talk?” Steve asks.  

Eddie shrugs and sits in the worn leather chair in his living room. “About what?”  

Steve tries not to roll his eyes. “About the fact that everything was going so well today, and we were supposed to talk until you saw that text from Jordan.”  

He watches as Eddie shifts uncomfortably in the chair and starts picking at his nails. He sighs and looks at Steve. “It’s fine. We were just doing a favor for Robin. We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. There was always a deadline for this whole relationship thing, and I just cut it off sooner than planned. But if she needs me there to make Veronica comfortable, then I don’t think she should date her.”  

Steve sighs and puts his head in his hand. He’ll have to touch on the whole Veronica thing later so Eddie doesn’t get sidetracked. He puts the ice pack on Eddie’s wobbly coffee table then rubs his hands up and down his legs nervously and asks, “What if I wanted to make a big deal out of it?”  

“What?”  

Steve runs a hand through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “What if I wanted to make a big deal out of it because Jordan means nothing to me? I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I wasn’t seeing anyone. I hooked up with her three weeks ago and haven’t talked to her since.”  

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”  

“What?” Steve asks exasperated because he would really love if Eddie explained things to him.  

But he isn’t prepared for Eddie to look him in the eye with so much hurt as he asks, “Steve, over the past three years since you’ve met me, do you remember me going out with anyone? Mentioning anyone?”  

Steve shakes his head. Honestly, it was just never something Eddie brought up. He just thought he wasn’t comfortable talking about those things.  

“I wasn’t lying tonight,” Eddie says. “Since the moment I met you, I have fallen for you so damn hard, but every single time I’ve thought the timing was finally right and I was about to confess my feelings, you’ve mentioned someone new. It’s been three years, Steve. Why did you never consider me?” Eddie’s voice breaks at the end.  

Steve shakes his head. “I just didn’t let myself think I had a chance with you.”  

“Bullshit,” Eddie says.  

Steve points at him. “Don’t use that word. You know what it means to me.”  

Eddie leans forward in his chair and slowly says, “I do, and that’s why I call bullshit.”  

It hurts hearing it from Eddie, so Steve stands up and starts heading to the door.

He stops in his tracks.

Maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe Steve needs to be honest with himself. He’s always thought of Eddie as a fantasy out of reach, and in the process, he’s set himself up on so many pointless dates that he knew wouldn’t go anywhere. He was honestly self-sabotaging since the moment he met Eddie because...  

He walks back to Eddie and stops in front of his chair. “I was scared, Eddie.”  

Eddie scoffs.  

This only makes Steve upset. He throws out his arms. “In the past three years, when have you ever seen me have a serious relationship?”  

Eddie is silent for a moment, considering before he answers, “Never.”  

“And why do you think that is?”  

Eddie shrugs. “Because you’re not a relationship guy?”  

“Bullshit,” Steve says. “It’s because I was scared of getting hurt again. You remember what I said today at the bar. The whole reason we were supposed to talk.” Eddie looks down. Steve swallows hard and drops to his knees in front of the chair, forcing Eddie to look at him. “I have been scared of you since the moment I laid eyes on you because I knew you could so easily break my heart.”  

Steve hesitantly puts his hands on Eddie’s knees and squeezes. “And I was scared of hurting you, too.” He pauses and adds, “Then, Dustin would kill me.”  

Eddie lightly laughs at that, and Steve’s heart soars. He laughs with him. “You know it’s true! He would kill the both of us if we hurt each other. God, he’s probably already going to kill me.”  

Eddie softly cups Steve’s cheek and says, “I wouldn’t let him do that to you.”  

Steve leans into his hand and turns to press a soft kiss against it. “Today was one of the best days of my life, and I don’t want to spend another second pretending that I would be okay not reliving it every day. So, can we please finally get the timing right, and will you please go out with me?”  

Eddie stares at him hesitantly and sighs with a smile. “Well, I feel obligated now that you’re on your knees practically begging for me to say yes.”  

Steve laughs and shoves his shoulder. “Shut up.”  

Eddie mimes zipping his mouth closed and throwing the key away.  

“Oh my gosh, Eddie, just say yes.”  

Eddie smiles with his lips still closed and gestures to his mouth then shrugs.  

Steve puts his head in his hands and asks, “Are you going to make me humiliate myself by trying to find the key?”  

He gets a tap on his shoulder, and he looks up to find Eddie nodding with an evil smile.  

Steve sighs and stands up. “Why can’t I just have a normal boyfriend?”  

“Can’t call me your boyfriend when I haven’t said yes,” Eddie argues then slams his hand over his mouth.  

Steve just laughs as Eddie’s hand slowly slides down to reveal his big smile. Steve grabs both of his hands and pulls him up into a hug. He holds on tight as Eddie slowly wraps his arms around him.  

“Yes, by the way,” Eddie whispers into his ear.  

Steve pulls back. “Yes?” he asks.  

Eddie nods with a breathtaking smile. “Yes.”  

Steve lets out a sigh of relief before pulling Eddie into a kiss - their first kiss as a real couple.  

They both smile into the kiss, pulling away every so often to laugh and whisper things like, “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” and “I’m your boyfriend,” and “You’re my boyfriend.”  

And yes, all of those comments end up being Eddie as Steve confirms each with another kiss. But they both end up smiling so hard that they have to pull away and rest their heads against each other.  

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie says, “How long are we going to have to lie to Veronica about when our relationship started.”  

Oh no.  

Steve sighs and pulls Eddie to the couch. “You might want to sit down for this...”  

He recalls what Robin and Nancy told him, and Eddie ends up nodding and saying, “Yeah, I was wondering how Veronica would feel about Nancy and Robin being so weirdly close. But this makes way more sense.” Steve finds his reaction to be way more tame than his until he asks, “Want to go over there and make them pay?”  

Steve shakes his head with a smile. “I think making them wait in suspense is the best way to torture them.”  

“And how long do we want to make them wait?”  

Steve shrugs. “A few hours, maybe longer.”  

Eddie smiles. “And what should we do during those hours?”  

Steve presses a kiss against Eddie’s cheek and says, “I have a few ideas.”  

“Me too,” Eddie says as he moves to capture Steve’s lips with his own.  

Steve can’t believe that this could’ve been his life for the past three years, but luckily, they have all the time in the world to make up for lost time.  

But they still should’ve done this way sooner.  

-:-:-:-:-:-

One year later...  

“Come on, Steve. We’re going to be late!” Robin yells.  

Steve stares at his reflection and fixes his hair a few more times before he pulls back to stare at his outfit. He laughs at the yellow sweater that Eddie insisted he had to wear on their one-year anniversary before running off to help Nancy with some emergency.  

He’s not sure why Robin didn’t leave instead of him considering that the two girls now live together, but he doesn’t question it too much. Eddie was ready, and Robin said she wasn’t.  

He’s also not sure why Robin is fussing so much about getting to the bar on time when the four of them could celebrate both their anniversaries at any time of the day.  

“Come on, Steve. We can’t keep Nancy and Eddie waiting for too long or else they’re going to have to keep stalling and insisting that two other people are coming. But what if they don’t believe them? What if they get kicked out for loitering, huh? Then, where are we going to celebrate at? There’s no fair this year, and I think Eddie would die if we made him ride the Ferris wheel again. So, hurry up!”  

Steve stops staring at himself and turns to face Robin who has been pacing in the doorway and frantically texting on her phone for the past five minutes. As far as Steve knows, they’re both going to be right on time and probably early if they leave in the next few minutes, He crosses his arms. “What are you hiding?”  

Robin looks at him with wide eyes, very much giving away that she is hiding something. “Nothing!” she squeals.  

Steve raises his eyebrows.  

Robin stutters a bit then sighs. “Fine, I’m just nervous about the gift I got for Nancy for our anniversary.”  

“I thought you already gave her it?”  

Robin’s eyes flicker to the left. Another giveaway that she’s lying. “It’s another gift.”  

Steve rolls his eyes and walks past her. “I know you’re hiding something from me, but you’re right. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon. So, let’s go, Buckley.”  

He keeps pressing it during the car ride over until Robin launches off on a rant about the new lingerie she bought for their anniversary that she doesn’t think Nancy will like and goes into far too much detail about it. So much so that she only finishes her rant once they’ve pulled into the parking of the bar.  

“Steve,” Robin says.  

Steve stops and turns to her.  

She says nothing.  

“What?” he asks.  

Then, he gets concerned as tears fill her eyes and she smiles wider. “Nothing, I’m just so happy.”  

Steve stares in horror and confusion as Robin gets weirdly emotional. “Yeah, okay, let’s get you to Nancy,” Steve says, stepping out of his car and following as Robin practically skips to the bar.  

He stares as she proudly holds the door open. Yeah, things are starting to get weird-  

He stops in the entrance to the bar and stares at the rose petals on the floor. What?  

There’s a guitar strum, and Steve watches as Eddie starts to play on the stage with the horrible acoustics. He recognizes the song from the first night they met, and stops in his place, as mesmerized as he was when he first saw him.  

He plays it the whole way through before he puts his guitar back in his case and comes back to the mic. “Hey, everyone, and especially you Steve.”  

Steve smiles but then startles as he notices there are definitely more people than just him and Eddie in the place. In fact, it’s... everyone he knows. Dustin... the rest of the party... even Eddie’s uncle Wayne is there.  

“A year ago, Steve and I finally got together after I pined after him since the first night we met here in this very bar. Now, the song I just played wasn’t romantic at all, but it’s the song I was playing when I first laid eyes on Steve. And I have never been the same,” Eddie says resting his hands over his heart in a mixture of sincerity and just for the dramatics. “But, a year ago, when we lied to the waiter about our anniversary and scored Robin here some free cake-”  

“Hey!” Robin interjects.  

Everyone laughs, but Steve, Eddie, and Nancy know it’s true.  

“Well, I told the waiter that in one year, I would be back to propose to Steve.”  

Steve’s heart skips a beat as it all connects. He feels tears fill his eyes much like Robin as Eddie gets off the shitty stage and makes his way to Steve. He takes his hands. “Steve, I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t imagine a life where you’re not in it forever. And with that being said, I think it’s only fair that I get to be the one that goes down on one knee since you went down on two to ask me out.”  

“Gross,” Dustin says.  

“Not like that!” Eddie yells at him. He mumbles, “Christ, kid is going to ruin the damn moment.”  

Steve can’t help but think that nothing could ever ruin this moment.  

Eddie then pulls a ring box out of his back pocket and gets down on one knee. “Steve, will you marry me?”  

Steve feels a tear slip down his face as he nods and happily laughs out, “Yes.”  

He tugs Eddie up and hugs him tight, as everyone starts cheering and flooding around the two.  

Later, Dustin, Nancy, and Robin start arguing about who is the reason they got together, but the couple is quick to humble Robin and Nancy reminding them that they’re both the reason they almost ruined their relationship forever.  

Nancy apologizes as Robin argues that it still worked out in the end, but Dustin takes it as a victory.  

Eddie just laughs through it all, insisting that it was actually his impeccable guitar skills that got the two of them together, and they would be nowhere without it.  

But Steve knows deep down that no matter what universe they are in, he and Eddie would somehow end up together.

Thank you to my dear tag list and everyone for sticking around for this story and leaving such kind comments <3 I hope you enjoyed

Tag List:

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium @heartdinosblog @ellietheasexylibrarian @newtstabber @irregular-child @turboprops69 @envyadams-vs-me @dude-as-in-i-love-u @slv-333 @jillfriend @goodolefashionedloverboi @steady-delusional-moonlover @scheodingers-muppet @sleepyboosstuff @cyranyx @bestwifehaver @marvel-ous-m @chaosgoblinreblogsthings @vampiregirl1797 @moltenchocolatelavacake

[hannie-dul-set]

six quick and easy hacks to 🆙 the quality of your fanfiction!

as promised, here it is! i’m not here to tell you how to plot out your story, or how to write your characters’ personalities. the tips i’m sharing are more on formatting and structure, secret (not really) cheat codes to instantaneously make your already written work even better! 

my qualifications? being a tumblr hag for over five years (my even more embarrassing pre k-pop writeblr included!) so i’ve unlocked quite a bit of secrets and discovered some eurekas throughout my time here HAHAHAH. anyway, let’s start!

#1 VARIETY IN PARAGRAPH LENGTHS, SENTENCE LENGTHS, AND SENTENCE STARTERS.

nothing turns me off more than seeing paragraph blocks after paragraph blocks when looking for some new fics to read, especially when you’re reading from a cramped up device such as your phone.

when i write a lengthy paragraph, i try to follow it up with a one-liner, or a mid-sized one. but it’s something i consciously keep track of— when i noticed that, “oh, this gdoc is getting a little too wordy, a little too chunky,” i make sure that my next paragraph is significantly shorter than the current one because it keeps the entire page interesting. one to two sentences of lines of paragraphs after another and another doesn’t look pretty. chunks of paragraphs after paragraphs is boring.

make your pages visually dynamic by ensuring variety.

like this, for example.

→ fic: home for the bitchless.

seeing a large chunk of text and a singular line immediately after also sort of forces your reader to stick around and read an otherwise intimidating lengthy paragraph because— oh! what could have possibly led to that singular like of dialogue or thought! #subtlemanipulation you get me? 😔🤙

this rule of mine applies to sentences and phrases within the paragraph as well!

→ fic: love vomit.

and as a bonus, you can use paragraph breaks and cuts to your advantage! manipulating the way a sentence or paragraph ends in a certain way makes your works more rhythmic! and, when you play it around the right way, abrupt cuts and breaks also add the right mood and drama to your work!

→ drabble: the boy who cried wolf.

part three of tip number one (one…we’re still at number one…) is on sentence and paragraph starters. i keep it as a rule of thumb that if i start a paragraph with “you,” or with someones name, i don’t use it again in the next one to avoid monotony. it’s a very miniscule thing really, and i doubt that people notice this HAHAHA but this is something i religiously swear by because repetitions like this are visually boring.

→ wip: sunwater.

of course, this can’t be avoided all the time, and repeating the sentence starter “You” or any other pronoun, word, or phrase can be intentionally utilized to strongly drive a point. just don’t overdo it!

→ drabble: patience, patience.

→ blurb: monsters don’t hide under the bed.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

there are other good and strategic uses for repetitions as well! we’ll get to that later.

lastly, variety in sentence and paragraph starters doesn’t simply mean changing up the first word. things can still get really boring even if you use “you” or a character’s name interchangeably if your sentence structure remains the same.

this, for example, is monotonous.

the structure (and length) of all three sentences are the same. A does this. B does this. A does this. and even if you switch things up but still use the same sentence structure, it still falls flat. case in point, below, a structure i often see in a lot of fics i stumble across.

those are flat. those are boring. they don’t…you know…make you feel something, even when you follow the rule of not using the same starter twice. let me try improving it by adding more variety in the sentences (+ adding a tip that i’ll be discussing right after!)

the word “He” here is used twice to create a rhythm and draw emphasis, but the rest of the excerpt maintains a sense of variety to make the narrative more interesting and compelling to read.

*

#2 PICK A POV AND STICK WITH IT.

before i start a scene, a drabble, or blurb, the first question i ask myself is, “whose point of view do i want it to be in?”

one, it’s a lot neater, more organized, than omniscient point of views in my opinion (unless you’re like a super fucking skilled writer of course HAHAHHA). two, it allows for a bit of mystery, suspense, and engagement because you don’t have access to what other people are thinking about, and three— in line with the first tip— when you know whose brain you’re in when writing, it allows for more dynamic narrations, gives you an excuse to be messy because our internal thoughts are messy as well, and makes the writing a hell of a lot easier when you’re focused on monologuing one person alone!

when writing shorter fics, drabbles, or blurbs, i swear by this rule, no excuses HAHAHAH but when writing longer fics, sometimes i switch around the point of views per scene, just to make a more well rounded story.

sometimes, the point of view doesn’t even have to be any of the main character’s! writing from an external POV is also really fun and adds another layer of interest. see example below, a Jeonghan breakup fic written exclusively from the perspective of the outsiders. very fun idea! 

breakup scene written in Seungcheol’s POV.

another squabble written in Seungkwan’s POV.

→ wip: the breakup soup.

*

#3 REPETITIONS AND THEMES = COHESIVENESS.

this section contains tricks on how to wrap up your fics into one cohesive little present with a pretty ribbon on top! 

first is the use of repetition. use a cool funky line at the beginning of your story, and reuse/rehash/revise it at the end for a neat finish, especially when you have trouble figuring out a way to end your story (lifesaving hack! trust me!) 

i use this mostly in my shorter works—

→ drabble: you’re my bucket list.

→ blurb: louder.

—but it works just as well with longer fics, especially when the repetition is all throughout, and not just at the start and finish.

→ fic: mogi.

sometimes, it doesn’t even have to be a repeated phrase or line! it can be a little gimmick and it’d still work to make your fic cohesive! for example, in the fic below, i use the giving of strawberry candy/strawberry kisses to tie all the different scenes together because this was initially a set of separate drabble ideas wrapped into one long fic.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

and for this one (another ricky fic….yes…..) i use the whole cat metaphor to do the same. 

→ drabble: yours to keep.

the next tip to make your work cohesive is to grab a singular theme, object, whatever, and take advantage of it for your narration HAHAHAHHA this can be better explained by looking at the examples below.

theme: citrus.

→ drabble: citrus in the morning.

theme: storm.

→ blurb: blizzard.

the above examples are my shorter works, but it can work for longer fics as well! just check out this 36k word monster HAHAHAHHA.

theme: seasons.

→ fic: love vomit.

these are very simple ways to make your fic more put together! even if it’s just a simply blurb about a confession, adding a theme to aid the imagery bumps your fic quality to a +++++

*

#4 THROW AWAY THE Y/N’S!

now this one is quite honestly just a personal nitpick HAHAHHAHA but seeing the word Y/N when i’m reading something really pulls me out of my immersion. (and i only stopped using Y/N’s in my fics at the start of my 2023 comeback….so if you see my older works still using it…hahahha please don’t prosecute me).

anyway, you can do this either by embedding it in the narration—

→ fic: star studded baggage.

—or by using nicknames and titles instead!

→ wip: the breakup soup.

→ fic: can’t handle this.

*

#5 GET INTO THE (UN)NECESSARY SPECIFICS.

instead of just saying “Your professor called you,” grab a random last name and say “Prof Yoon asked to see you in his office.” instead of saying you went to the cafe, the mall, the store, grab an actual place or make one up because no one in the world says “they’re going to the cafe to grab a frappe,” (unless the store’s name is actually The Cafe). people say they’re going to Dunkin Donuts or Coffeebreak or wherever.

sure it’s not plot relevant, sure it’s not integral, but little things like this make your narrative and dialogue a lot more realistic and less awkward. it makes it seem like your characters are actually living inside a world of their own.

*

#6 GRAMMAR AND FORMATTING.

these are given HAHA but when i talk about grammar, i mean making sure that the commas and periods are consistently inside the quotation marks when writing dialogue. i mean minimizing the use of italics because overusing it can ruin the reading experience of a good piece (i was guilty of this too!) and i mean making sure that the use of tenses are consistent all throughout (unless if it’s a creative and plot choice), because all these things really matter if you want your fic, drabble, or blurb to be of overall high quality.

and that’s basically it! hope these tips help somehow...hope i’m not revealing my secrets for naught and someone can actually put them to good use HHAHAHHA what’s most important obviously is that you’re having fun with what you’re writing…etc. etc. insert inspirational you can do it speech here.

anyway, happy new year! and happy reading and writing<33

[in1-nutshell]

So sorry about the requests getting deleted but I hope this reaches you well!!

Mtmte/LL

Whirl + (Gender neutral) Cybertronian reader

-

So this is based off the Christmas special of when whirl found a colony of scraplets that took the shape of a protoform.

Whirl and reader have been conjux endura for a long time now(don’t ask how no one knows), always there for one another cause god knows whirl needs it. And after the events of them finding the colony of scraplets they obviously decide to secretly raise it without anyone knowing!

They both raise the scraplets that they now both consider their very own sparkling. And it even takes the physical features not just from whirl but from the reader too, making the attachment to her even greater<33 and just all in all the miscellaneous first time parenting moments of whirl and his conjux leading up to all the way to the scene with getaway in the end.

-

Reading the special really makes whirl look like such a mom it’s adorable and I love him🥰

Take care of yourself and hope you have a great day!!

That Christmas comic has to be one of my favorites to read.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Conjunx with Whirl and taking care of scraplets

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Familial, Mention of injuries, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Buddy had stayed by Whirl’s side longer than most bots would have.

Many bots questioned many things about their relationship, but Whirl liked to keep them on edge and never told them the truth.

Buddy was probably one of the loyal and most stubborn bots anyone would have ever met.

Some of the things that Whirl had fallen for.

At Swerve’s… Whirl: “Move it Eyebrows! Buddy gotta sit! Whirl tries to push Rung out of the way but gets stopped by Buddy who has an unamused face. Buddy: “Whirl, we’ve talked about this.” Whirl: “But you need to sit, you said it yourself!” Buddy: “I said my pedes ached a bit—” Whirl suddenly picks Buddy up like a sack. Buddy laughing a bit: “Whirl! Put me down!” Whirl: “I’ll put you down, don’t get your bolts twisted.” Buddy huffs and smiles at Rung. Rung just smiles and waves. CLANK! Buddy: “Whirl!” Whirl: “What?” Buddy: “Why?!” Whirl: “How do you NOT expect me to touch that shiny metal—” Buddy covering their face with their servos: “That’s enough Whirl!” Whirl: “Bet you hate me!” Buddy in a  muffled voice: “Love you too.” Somewhere on the Lost Light… Magnus suddenly straightens his back struts even more. Rodimus putting away his data pad doodle: “Mags?” Magnus: “First, don’t call me that. Second, someone just broke a rule…”

The night the ship was to go into mauler space, Whirl had promised Buddy he was just going to get a quick drink with Nautica and Swerve before going into the B.E.D.

But when they woke up from their sleep, they were greeted with a frantic Swerve spouting about Whirl and scraplets.

They were running to the medbay before Swerve could finish any of his rambling.

They tackled Whirl onto the med slab and hit him upside down the helm when they heard what he did with the scraplets.

But they defiantly saw why their Conjunx did what he did.

They peaked at the container and saw a little sparkling with some of Whirl and their features.

Then Velocity mentioned about disposing them later that night.

Whirl and Buddy heading back to their habsuite. Whirl: “There goes another bot I care for gone.” Buddy: “Whirl you’re still on the pain killer’s.” Whirl: “Yeah… maybe it’s the meds… but don’t you ever—nevermind.” Buddy: “What?” Whirl: “Its something dumb…” Buddy putting Whirl on the berth and carefully cupping his helm. Buddy softly: “What?” Whirl: “… Do you ever want to start a family? I know its nuts to think me as a father figure or something but—” Buddy: “Its okay to think that Whirl… I need to go outside for a minute. I’ll be right back.” Later… Buddy carefully opens and closes the door holding something. Whirl sitting up. Whirl: “Finally! Thought you’d ru—what is that?” Buddy sheepishly smiles and holds up the container of scraplets. Buddy: “Meet Junior.”

It took some time for the pair to finally properly train Junior, but by Primus it was worth it.

It surprises the pair to no end that NO ONE had figured out they were harboring the scraplets.

Buddy and Whirl made sure to keep an optic out for any loose ends that could lead to Junior.

Junior soon started showing signs of Whirl and Buddy’s physical features.

When part of the crew went down to necro world, Buddy insisted on staying behind

Something wasn’t right and they wanted to be there for Junior in case something happened.

Whirl reluctantly agreed.

Buddy was slightly terrified when Getaway started talking on the intercom about mutiny.

They marched straight to Getaway while he was transmitting the call with blasters in their servos.

On Necroworld the bots suddenly heard shots being fired and buddy with fury in their optics tackling Getaway

Whirl, while low key worried for Buddy, was cheering them on to take him

The crew could see the struggle and fight going in Buddy’s favor.

That was until an arrow suddenly appeared in Buddy’s mid-section.

Whirl screamed as they went down revealing Atomizer behind them.

Getaway quickly ordered Atomizer to take the back halls and throw them in their habsuite.

Rodimus was borderline smoking at one of his crewmates dying trying to get the rat.

Whirl being furious was an understatement.

He promised himself that he was going to make sure that Getaway suffered once he got his claws on him.

Back on the Lost Light…

Atomizer had carelessly tossed Buddy’s frame in the room and locked the door behind him.

Junior was startled at the sight of their parent not moving.

They became increasingly worried the longer they didn’t move and the small energon puddle forming.

They had plenty of metal to eat before having to resort to…

Junior carefully dragged Buddy to a side in the room that was clean.

She carefully ate away the arrow and slapped one of the temporary sticky patches on the wound.

Time skip to Getaway finally offline…

Junior was quite insistent in getting Whirl to the room as fast as possible.

Whirl’s pedes nearly gave out from underneath him when he saw the still frame.

Whirl stumbling over his pedes to reach Buddy. He shakingly reaches for them, nudging them a bit. They don’t move. Whirl shut his optic and let Ratchet drag him away from them while First Aid went to check on the frame. First Aid’s helm suddenly went up. First Aid: “Ratchet! Ratchet!” Ratchet quickly gets to First Aid’ side. Ratchet: “By Primus, Whirl! Your beautiful, stubborn Conjunx is still online! Barely but there’s a spark beat!” Whirl immediately got to his pedes with Junior and went outside: “OUT OF THE WAY! MEDICS INCOMING! MOVE IT OR I WILL SIC JUNIOR ON YOU!”

It took many weeks of recovery and physical therapy before Buddy was once again back on their pedes chasing after their Conjunx.

Well, now chasing their Conjunx and newly adopted sparkling.

Minimus had even officially sealed the adoption pads as a gift to the new parents.

Whirl was so happy he didn’t commit a felony for 2 weeks.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Round two

Rating: Mature

Warning: oral (f reseving) drunk but not so drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampies, smutty- fluff (at the end), breeding, hair pulling,LET ME KNOW WHAT IVE MISSED!!

Category:F/M

Fandom: ATEEZ (boyband)

Relationships: !Idol-boyfriend Mingi x black intended!f non-idol reader

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

you grab his hand before he can board the plane “ promise me you won’t forget about us” he squeezes your hand “of course i won’t forget, how could you even say something like that” you look up at him “i’ll be 7,000 miles away” he gives you a kiss on the hand “and 7,000 miles doesn’t mean a damn thing when you have love like ours." This was said when the two of tou first met, but now you have a shared home.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“what are you thinking about” mingi is resting his head on your stomach looking up at you, you smile at him “nothing, just thinking about us”.

he sits up to give you a kiss “i love you so much baby” you give him a kiss back “and i love you t-“ you're interrupted by his phone ringing.

he gives you an apologetic smile “just one minute baby i’ll be right back” you playfully frown “we said no phones this weekend, just because you’re an idol doesn’t me you can break our rules”.

he gives you a tap on the thigh “and just because you’re my baby doesn’t mean you can be bossy, we both know i’m the boss hmm?”

you roll my eyes then mock him “yeah, We BoTh KNow iM tHe BoSS” he gives you a pointed look “i’m just kidding”.

he smirks “yeah and i’m just gonna edge you for the rest of the night” you sit back against the headboard with a frown “that’s not funny” he looks at his phone “i wasn’t joking baby please continue if you wanna find out, i’ll be back”.

before you can get another word out he steps out the room, you pull your phone out and scroll through tiktok.

about 10 minutes later he comes back into the room “oh don’t worry baby it’ll just be one minute, one minute my ass mingi” he sighs “i’m sorry baby, i was speaking with management about the music bank…they’re moving our time up”.

before you can say anything else “don’t look at me like that we’re still gonna have our week together, i promise” he pulls me into a kiss.

you give him a small smile “ok, well since i have you back what do you want to do”.

he plops down on the bed with a sigh “i would LOVE to have my head buried between your thighs but i’ll settle for netflix if i have to”.

“ugh, i don’t wanna watch netflix they barely have any good shows or movies” he snaps his fingers “how about we play twister” you giggle thinking that he’s joking “wait, you’re being serious” he nods his head.

“you get the game set and i’ll get the snacks” you squeal and jump out the bed to get the game set from the linen closet. by the time you get to the living room mingi’s setting out the drinks and food “baaabe” he smiles at me “what?" "Can we make twister romantic too”. "Yeah, sure but looser does what winner wants for two weeks."

You gasp, "but that's not fair you got tour in like a week". Mingi booped your nose "it's all good, just remember I'm the boss." You poke your lip out for a second before getting serious again "Seriously Gi, fine I guess that's fine."

After turning on your shared Spotify Playlist and getting into even more "comfortable" clothes. "Wow, baby can I just eat you up instead" Mingi winked as he pulled you close by your hips. "Hmm, nope you can prepare yourself for this ass whoopin'." You felt a sting to your ass when you walk to your side of the mat. "Yeah nah."

As the evening pass you both decide to turn up the heat by making a few rounds of the game strip twister, by the time the 6th bottle of  soju was a quarter from being empty the room was full of giggles you both only in boxers and a pair of lace panties that some how matched. "Mimi I'm gonna kick your ass." You say just before your bum takes a hit to the floor due to Mingi using his free hand to tickle the back of your thigh with.

"Ha I won, because I'm.. I'm the boss." You fold your arms and pout as you stay on your back "No more like you cheated." Mingi just shook his head and laid his body on yours with his head on your lower abdomen region. "Mmm sure but you still fell off the mat baby, so I win and now I must do as I please with you."

You may have been drunk but you knew, you had known since the third round with you had to slip your bra off and you noticed Mingi's cock getting hard in his pants, but that did do justice to how wet your panties were since you witnessed his take his sweatpants off with one hand to keep his balance.

He turned his head from the side and proped himself on his hands and knees gently locking his fingers with the sides of your panties, only to pull them and let go. "Hey, don't rip these like the last pair." You call out to him as he took the time to lower his head just in front of your clothed pussy and blowing cold air to the wet spot. "Mmm fuck baby so wet just like me." He kissed the spot for taking his tongue and licking you through your panties. You let out a needy moan "i need you Mingi," you mumbled through the moan.

He let out the most cockiest smirk and use his teeth to pull your panties off of course with the help of your raising your hips. He came up with your hands hands on his face as he buried his head in the crook of your neck leaving wet kissed and hickies all over your skin. "Shh, I know baby," he mumbled into your skin.

You let out more moans as your raise you now fully free pussy onto Mingi's fully hard cock. "Mmm baby, please, can't wait." You mumbled one more time."

You let out a loud gasp and Mingi decided to return back to your pussy and eat you like tou were his last meal. His tongue some how always found new places inside of you to explore. You gripped his freshly dyed and cut oreo styled hair as he rubbed his nose deeper into your clit. "Mmm baby..baby m'gonna cum on you tongue." You mewl out in an euphoric moan. Mingi hummed into your pussy as he pushed his tongue deeper deciding lst minute to use his fingers causing you to arch your back as you released in his mouth and leaving him to lap all of your juices hungrily.

Mingi let out a fit of moans and groans as he came up to kiss you letting you take your self from his tongue. He kissed one last time before using one of his hands to steady cock into you with his head resting now in the crook of your neck. Once he was fully buried deep inside of your pussy he came up your face and kissed you messily and yet gently. You let out a few small whines leaves from the back of throat. "Fuck baby, Mingi m'so full. You're making me feel so full." You whine out more as you tangle your fingers inthe nap of his neck where the ends of his oreo hair cut stops.

"Yeah baby and you're taking my cock so well, m'gonna miss this when I go on tour. Gonna miss how good I make you feel around my cock." He said in between grunts as he starts to rock his hips faster into your pussy. "Mmm baby wanna ride you, please...please let me." You asked as you bit your lip whole clenching around Mingi's cock.

With all his strength he flipped the both of you over you now on top and him still buried deep inside you.  With the now torn twister paper under him. You let out a gasp feeling his cock go even deeper than before. "Oh..mmm ride me good baby, c'mon I know you can." Mingi says and he thrusts his hips into yours. You rock your hips and a fast and steady pace feeling your clit hit the hair on his happy trail. "Mmm s'big Ming, s'good.... you makin me feel so good." With this reassurance Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist pulling forward into his chest and taking one of his hands and tangling his fingers into your fresh but not so fresh box braids and gently tugging causing you to let out a long moan.

"Mmm such a good slut taking my cock the way that just drives us both crazy, but I need you to cum for me as hard as you can on my cock baby; then make me cum, yeah." He said as he pistol his hips into you more faster hitting your g-spot every single thrusts. "Oh..oh fuck Mingi..Mingi m'gonna cum for you.. mmm gonna let you fill me with your babies." You say as you clench around his cock each time your hips meet.

He hold you as close as the two of you can get while being so close to your orgasm. "Yeah gonna make you a momma, and keeping fucking you till we can't make anymore, now cum with me baby..cum for me my love. Give me another one yeah" Mingi said as you shook with pleasure as you both rode out your highs with Mingi's cum still shooting into you. "Oh, baby-" "shhh, baby just relax for me" Mingi cut you off as he staying in you. You shiver from pleasure and being slightly cold. "Think you can stand long enough for me to get off the floor so we can take a bath." You nod your head as he helped you stand only for him to pick you up bridal style.

"I'm serious about making you a momma, Y/n, and making you Mrs. Song Y/n. So what I want as my prize is to fuck you til the day I leave for tour, and foe you to take as many test while I'm gone." He whispered in your ear befor kissed the side of you head. All you could do was blush. "Deal, baby I'll take it." You kissed his jaw and leaned to his ear. "Round two right here, right now."

[bonemarrowrites]

To Rule The Roost

Contains:  M / M, Feral/monster x humanoid, dubcon, masturbation, voyeurism, fisting, bound, oviposition.

Explicit short story. A young fae wants to become a Gryphon rider, finding himself hired by a veteran flight master.

-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-

“Never expected to see an ash fae here. You’re kind rarely wanders away from your home isle. Yet, here you are, applying to be the gryphon aide under me. You do realize what that job entails, right?” Asked the flight master Trall as I sprouted back into the present, hearing griffins screeches outside the tall building had distracted me from the conversation.

Trall’s bulky human frame made his belly look like a large sack of flour as he sat on his chair and went through my papers. The Gryphon riders' colorful attire complimented his dark skin and made him look formal.

“Yes,” I answered and nodded enthusiastically to drive my point home, “I’ve always wanted to be a rider and someone told me this is a great way to learn the basics, before applying to the academy.” Before coming here, I had memorized a long list of useful lies to make myself the perfect candidate.

“I see…” Trall muttered back to me with a curious expression on his plump face. 

“Skinny boys like you can’t withstand the wind,” he blurted like he was trying to see my reaction.

“I don’t need to withstand it, I’m delicate enough to go through the wind wall without feeling a thing,” I rebutted, attempting to sound confident. My answer made the flight master snort, but he still looked unsure.

“Why not just go straight to the academy? They teach all you need to know and without. Assigning here might look good on your application, but it will only prolong your graduation if you’re even worth the effort. Taking the exam is the best way to get it,”  Trall’s tone sounded dismissive like he was talking to a young child who didn’t know any better. He didn't know I had taken the exam, thrice, and had failed each time. I knew I could cheat when I took it the next time, but I had to make sure my record showed that I had been somewhere where I might have learned the ropes. This was my only chance.

I composed myself, before telling him another one of my lies, “I believe if I want to be good at something I should learn as much as I can from those who actually work in the field. Teachers at the academy might teach me theory, but the real learning happens here.”

“You’re not going to learn how to fly without the academy’s approval,” Trall declared as if I didn’t already know that.

“I know, but I’m going to do other work, right? The Gryphon riders must also know how to take care of their steed.” The flight master's unwillingness had surprised me. The amount of promised payment had been significant, especially considering how little experience was required, but I was sure his aides' job wasn’t too hard to handle. After all, I had gotten this far, my letter must have made some sort of impression. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have wanted to see me and made me go through an extensive healer’s inspection.”

“I see,” he muttered again, giving one last glance at my papers. “You’ve been an adult for three summers now and your letter was very passionate, consider yourself hired.” The flight master stood up and held his hand out to shake mine. Quickly, I gave him a firm handshake and looked directly into his deep brown eyes.

“Thank you, sire. I’ll make sure you will not regret this!” I stated. The flight master slightly lift his right brown. My enthusiasm must have been a little bit too much. Yet, I actually was ecstatic. The second part of my plan had worked and I was on my way to becoming a Gryphon rider!

Trall waved his hand .“Follow me, better get to work now than later. The last aide’s death has delayed our annual schedule and we’re in a hurry.”

I did not know that. The poster I saw never mentioned why they needed help, only that it was urgent.

“W-what happened to the last aid?” I asked with a concern in my voice.

“One of the griffins kicked him down from the flight pen. He had forgotten to change his clothes after tending another tiercel. They’re very territorial, you can’t put two males together without them getting aggressive with each other. Skilled riders must be dominant and assertive when flying in formations, we can’t have fights within the group.” Trall’s explanation sounded reasonable to me. I made sure to remember that.

As we ascended the long flight of stairs, I took in the view. Even though we were in the mountains, the air here was hot. The warm desert wind blew right into the mountainside and the sun scorched the black rock paving it, making the air dry and sweltering. Had we stayed in the open a little bit longer, I’d surely been burned. My light grey skin was not meant to be under the sun.

“The health of these beasts is very important to me and it is your job to help me keep them healthy and happy. You could say your job is almost as important as mine.” Trall glanced behind as he said it and waited for my reaction.

“As it is to me, sire! A healthy force is a strong force,” I said smiling and the flight master shot a small smile back at me. I was getting through to him.

Trall led me into one of the keep’s many spires and to a wide, round room.

There was a large opening on the wall, which was decorated with a carved stone arch with a small bell hung next to it. It was meant for the griffons, they’d fly in one by one when the bell rang for… Some reason. I honestly didn’t know why.

Various tools were hanging on the wall and there was a chair placed next to them. In the middle of the large room, there was also a tall sawhorse with a simple, but weirdly shaped, saddle with a long seat. It was facing away from the opening of the room. Long leather straps dangled from the saddle as the warm breeze made them sway slowly.

“I want you to clean and polish that saddle,” the flight master commanded, “Taking care of it is a significant part of your job.”

As Trall sat on the chair I grabbed a few items from the wall and climbed the sawhorse to reach the saddle. With a clean rag, I began to wipe the saddle. My mother used to be a well-known leatherworker and she took me with her when she worked in her workshop. The skills I learned had become handy.

Trall watched me work from behind, leaning into the backrest as I focused on my work. Secretly, I tried to take a peek to see, if he was pleased with my performance and I saw him rub his crotch with his hand.

My cheeks flashed red and in my shock, I turned away acting like I hadn’t seen anything, still talking about how important each step was when it came to working with good leather. I heard him mumble in agreement and out of my curiosity took another peek.

The flight master’s clothed member was getting hard and he let out quiet moans while caressing his balls with his other hand. Unsure where he was looking I saw him lick his fat lips in arousal. I began my next step when I heard him get up and walk towards me.

“You’re very good,” Trall said and put his other hand on my shoulder. I was too embarrassed to turn to look at him, “It usually takes a long time for aides to learn the proper leather care.” With me standing leaning on the sawhorse, we were about the same length. I could hear him still rubbing himself as he stood behind me.

“That’s good. Hand me the tools and climb on top. You need to learn how to sit properly.” The flight master said and I handed him the items I had in my hands without looking at him. I mounted the saddle and was now slightly higher than him, feeling kinda relieved that he could reach me. Trall returned each tool to its rightful place and walked back to face me. He had stopped pleasuring himself and took one of the leather straps into his hands. Through his pants, I could see still his half-erect member.

“Lean forward,” he commanded and I did as he said, fearing what he might do to me.

Quickly, he pulled the strap over my head and buckled it tightly around my neck.

“Sire! What is this?” I yelped alarmed.

“I’m showing you the ropes. Your job is to tend my beasts and the only way to learn it is by doing.”

The flight master walked around me, tying me firmly to the sawhorse as I tried to resist. 

“Please, let me go! I will take care of the griffons, I swear! I will do my job!” my pleads fell on deaf ears, as Trall’s straight face turned to a smirk.

“My boy, that you will. This is the job,” he replied and patted me to make sure every strap was holding me down. The flight master then tore my clothes off with a knife, leaving me prone. I was bent over the saddle seat, legs wide apart.

“I knew immediately you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when I met you, but as I said, our situation here is urgent and you were so ardent about this job.” with glee in his voice he added, “... And the best part is, according to your health report, you’re perfect for the job.”

I struggled against my bonds, the saddle seat rubbed against my naked shaft and nipples, slick from the musky polish I had applied mere moments ago. The leather felt slightly coarse and every move made me grind against it. Struggling made me pant from the heat and sweat ran down my back. I was fatigued, and as I stopped, realized that if I didn’t move too much, my posture felt rather good. The seat was long enough to support me without putting strain on my body.

The flight master had retrieved more tools from the wall.

“This will be much easier if you relax, but I warn you, the first time is always the worst,” he snarked and walked behind me, before I could ask any questions he slathered my hole with thick oil and pushed three fingers inside of me. I yelped in surprise and thrust forward, my body stroked my nipples and cock against the coarse surface of the seat making them hard. Trall stretched my hole wider and wider, adding more fingers each time he assaulted me and each time I thrusted forward involuntarily, stimulating my body even more. My cries turned into whimpers.

“The beasts won’t be as careful as I am, you need to learn to loosen up quickly, otherwise it will be painful,” The flight master attested. Soon he managed to push his whole fist into me, making my hole wider than ever before. While vigorously moving his fist, ramming it against the end of my tunnel, Trall began to pleasure himself again.

I sucked in a breath as the constant strain on my cock made me shoot cum between my body and the saddle. The flight master seemed pleased and pulled his fist out, leaving my gaping hole open. He walked towards the stone arch and rang the bell.

“You better get ready, your true test is just about to begin,” Trall laughed and walked back to sit on his chair. He dropped his pants, pulled his cock out and kept massaging his balls as a sudden whoosh of wind flew over me. I heard a loud screech and turned to look. 

There it was. A large male griffin, folding its huge wings as it stomped toward me, looking curiously at its new servant. Long talons scratched the wooden floor with each long step. The oil Trall spread on my ass must have had something in it, the griffon’s large phallus flopped out of its pouch when it sniffed me. The cone-shaped thing almost touched the floor, already glistening with wetness. The beast shrieked loudly as it lifted its feline front paws on the sides of the sawhorse. The griffon bit my neck with its beak, the thick leather strap around my neck protected me from the damage, but the clutch made breathing harder.

“Oh, and don’t worry!” I heard Trall’s voice from across the room, “They might have feline legs, but their cocks are not barbed”

I whimpered as the creature began brutally pumping its member between my cheeks. The saddle was crafted so it slightly lifted my lower body up, it was meant to make anyone laying on it easier to enter, but the beast trying to mount me kept rubbing its cock on me. I whimpered beneath the monster as Trall watched my attempted breeding with exhilaration.

The tip of the griffin’s rod hit my entrance making me gasp in surprise. The next thrust missed it until finally, it impaled me deep within, the whole length of it disappeared in me until its knot pressured my opening. My tied body rose slightly as the shaft made my belly bulge from its girth. I screamed loudly until the beast bit my neck harder, making my voice fade.

Griffin re-adjusted its back paws before it pulled out and hilted its cock back in within me. The sawhorse below us tilted back and forth with each push. The agitation stimulated my whole body, building pleasure inside of me. Like a rutting animal, the monster showed no mercy towards my abused body. I spasmed from the frantic pumping, bending my tied legs as much as I could, making them numb. My opening milked the beast's shaft as its engorged balls smacked against my thighs.

The flight master admired the scene in front of him, pleasing himself while he watched me being broken in. His balls twitched as his throbbing cock shot string after string of white cum into the air. His chest heaved from the bliss, making his whole fat body shake. As he regained control over his body, he walked to me, his limp rod hanging free.

My mind had blanked as I limply laid beneath the monster, moving like a ragdoll on a string, when the beast drilled deep into me. With one last forceful thrust, it secured itself inside of me and let out a loud roar. The flight master laughed and cupped my face into his hand.

“Now you get to experience the best part,” he said, puzzling me with his words momentarily, “The Males of this breed carry eggs to be fertilized by the females. He’s going to fill you up.”

My eyes widened as I felt the first bulbous shape pressing against my hole. As it passed through, a scorching sensation filled me when the egg was pushed deep within my gut, assisted by flowing hot goo. Another one entered me, making my eyes roll back from the pleasure. I teared up when the beast kept me tightly in its grasp, laying eggs into me one by one. My bulging belly expanded pushing me further away from the saddle, only stopped by the leather straps holding my body down. 

Trall pushed his face against mine and forced his tongue in. Kissing me passionately. 

The griffin must have put at least six eggs inside me, before pulling out, the tip still leaking goo. Satisfied, it flew away, leaving me alone with Trall. I was tired as he carefully removed my bindings and lifted me from the saddle to the floor.

“Don’t worry, my boy” he said, there was care in his voice, “We will take them out after you’ve rested and then sell them to another breeder. You’ve done good.” Trall gently petted my enlarged belly, holding me in his arms, “Tomorrow, you know what to expect and will be prepared for the next breeding,” he whispered tenderly. 

I thought about the academy and about my dream of becoming a Gryphon rider. Now, I had another goal.

I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[worldofheroes]

A Jealous Man

pete “maverick” mitchell x reader

summary: you try to distract yourself from practice and Maverick

warnings: angst, some fluff, language, alcohol

wc: 902

a/n: hi all! so sorry it’s been a hot minute. I got married!!! I promise I’m still working on all the requests! based on this request! maybe there will be a part two??

tags: @kissatelier @tomcruiseishot

"What the hell was that?" Maverick yells from across the tarmac.

"Leave me alone, Mav," you say, grabbing your gear and heading to the locker rooms.

"No, I will not. That stunt you pulled? It could’ve gotten you killed!"

"I was in control."

"You were not in control."

"You would’ve done the same thing."

Maverick sighs. "I don’t have the energy to argue with you. Go home."

"Yes sir," you say, walking past Maverick and purposefully bumping his shoulder.

You change out of your flight suit and head to The Hard Deck to meet someone you’ve been on a couple dates with. He’s not amazing, but it’s something.

—

Maverick didn’t consider himself to be a jealous man.

But when he walked in The Hard Deck and saw you with someone, Maverick felt physical pain.

He hated to admit it, but there was something about you that lured him in.

Of course, it was inappropriate, with him being your teacher. But Maverick wasn’t one for rules.

When you looked over and gave him a small smile, he felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Tough guy Maverick was falling for you.

—

Shortly after getting your first round of drinks, your date leaves you for his friends.

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to come back to be with you.

You finish your beer and head up to the bar. Much to your better judgment, you find a seat beside Maverick.

"Where’s your date?" Maverick asks.

You scoff. "With his friends. I knew it was a bad idea coming here."

Penny walks over to you, and you hold up your bottle. She nods and grabs another beer for you.

Maverick clenches his jaw. He could say so many things right now, but none of them are a good idea.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him.

"Trying to avoid thinking about the mission," he says.

You nod. "Fair enough."

"Y/n, what are you doing over here?" your date asks, stumbling over not only his words, but also his feet.

"How are you this drunk already?" you mutter.

"Baby, come on," he says, his hands all over you.

"Dylan, just leave," you say.

"Baby," he repeats, still touching you. You try to move away.

"Leave her alone," Maverick says.

"Oh, who are you to tell me what to do?" Dylan asks.

"A decent human being. I’d leave now, if I were you."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not yet."

"Mav," you whisper.

"You know this old man?" Dylan asks, appalled by this possibility.

"Dylan, leave," you say.

Maverick stands up and forces himself between you and Dylan.

You’ve never been this close to Maverick, and it makes you a little dizzy.

Maverick and Dylan are silent, having a stare down.

"Fine," Dylan says, walking away. "I’ll call you later, Y/n.”

"Please don’t," you say, looking at the floor.

Maverick doesn’t move until Dylan has left the area.

"Are you okay?" Maverick asks you, sitting back down at the bar.

"Yeah." You stand up and finish your beer. "I’m gonna head out. Thanks for, uh, intervening, I guess."

You don’t even wait for a response from Maverick before you leave.

"Y/n," Maverick calls out as he catches up to you in the parking lot.

"Mav, I appreciate you standing up for me, but I’m fine. I don’t need protecting. I know how to fly my plane. I don’t need your help constantly," you say.

"Y/n," Maverick repeats.

"I don’t get why you give me so much shit all the time. I don’t get why you’re always right there. I can handle myself," you ramble.

It takes you a second to realize Maverick has closed in on you, his face inches from yours. You stop mid sentence.

"Maverick," you whisper.

He leans in closer, stopping for a millisecond before his lips land on yours.

Your mind goes blank, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

He places his hands gently on your waist.

"Maverick," you repeat.

"I care about you so much, Y/n. I tried to push these feelings away, but I can’t. And seeing you with that guy tonight… I’ve never felt that way before, jealous of another man," Maverick says softly.

"Mav," you repeat.

"I want to give this a try."

"We can’t, the rules.”

"Fuck the rules," Maverick says, caressing your face.

"Maverick," you scold.

"I’ll take care of it," he smiles at you.

You roll your eyes and give him another kiss.

"I don’t want this to hurt me, Mav."

"I’ll handle it, trust me.”

Maverick wraps you up in his arms, and you rest your head against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat.

"Come back to my place?" Maverick asks.

"Okay," you say, nodding against his chest.

Maverick releases you from his arms. "Need a ride?"

"I’ve never ridden a bike before."

"Just hold on to me, you’ll be fine," he says with a smile, leading you to his bike.

You can’t help but smile back as Maverick’s hand finds yours.

He easily swings a leg up and over the bike, and helps you on to the bike too.

Maverick takes your hands and places them around his waist.

"Hang on," he says.

"Take it easy for me," you smile.

"No promises," he jokes with you, taking off from the parking lot.

You're still unsure how it happened, but you're thrilled to be going home with Maverick.

[separatist-apologist]

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Arina decided it was better to do as Eris asked and meet him outside her bedroom door after she and Elain had a private lunch in Elain’s bedroom. Eris turned the corner mere seconds later, eyes sliding down her body so intimately it made her shiver. He could do something with his eyes that made her nervous, turning that look on and off like igniting a candle. This time, though, Arina knew he disapproved of the yellow dress.

“Change—”

“No.”

Eris looked upward as if he was asking the gods to grant him patience. “Your clothes are impractical—”

“I don’t walk around prepared for battle. If you’re going to teach me to defend myself, teach me as I am, tangled skirts, long hair, and all.”

Eris paused, cocking his head to the side like a predator. “You’re taking your hair down?”

Oh, did he want her to? She was tempted to tell him no, though she’d put very few pins in her hair today to make it easy to let her hair down once they were alone so she could simulate being alone in her bedroom like she’d been when someone tried to strangle her. 

“Does that offend you?”

His cheeks darkened for just a moment as he cleared his throat. “I don’t care about your hair.”

Liar.

“This is probably pointless to say to you, but I would prefer it if you didn’t go easy on me.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Eris promised, falling into step beside her. She expected him to take her outside—somewhere public. Somewhere people could see. It hadn’t occurred to her that Eris would take her to his lavish apartments across the palace, nor that he would close the door behind him.

“Eris—”

“Oh who cares?” he said with a roll of his eyes. “There is no escape for either of us, so what does it matter if they think I’ve had you now or in two months?”

“I care.”

He shrugged. “Where would you prefer we go? To the common hall? The courtyard? Somewhere anyone with eyes can watch? The point of teaching you this is to catch your attacker off guard so you can escape, not help them hone their skills so they don’t make another mistake.”

“I care,” Arina admitted. Her reputation was all she had left—and she knew her father would be furious when the rumors reached him. Eris could still change his mind, but Arina would be unmarriageable if anyone believed Eris had her first.

Eris’s look of frustration wasn’t enough to cow her. “I told you, this marriage is happening—”

“Until it doesn’t,” she countered quietly, stepping closer to a long sofa she could imagine him lounged on, book in hand. “Are you telling me that you’d still honor this contract if your father freed you?”

Eris ground his teeth together. He couldn’t lie to her, so he wouldn’t. Instead, he said, “He’s not going to—”

“He might—”

“He won’t!” Eris snapped, some of his anger getting the better of him. “If only to piss your father off. He is taking that shitty piece of land one way or the other and you are the most convenient way to do it, and unless you think your father is willing to trade it for less than his daughter sitting on a throne, you will be my godsdamned wife.”

Arina hated him a little bit right then. His anger was palpable, a flame burning hot in his gaze. She wanted to hit him, wanted to make him feel every ounce of her own fury and fear until he stopped talking to her like she was a simple, stupid child. 

“I don’t want to be your wife,” she whispered, which was the wrong thing to say. Eris advanced on her until he was inches from her face. 

“I don’t care what you want,” he whispered, gaze not on her eyes but her mouth. 

“I’ll make you miserable,” she threatened. Eris only shrugged, the spell broken. He looked around the room as if trying to find something. It gave Arina a moment to appreciate the shelves of books, the rich rugs of red and cream, the high ceilings and open windows—all of it tastefully appointed and betraying someone with taste far more refined than her own. She couldn’t help herself, gravitating toward one of the shelves to see what he liked to read.

A lot of philosophy, she found. History, too, and more than a few books on poetry. She was particularly fascinated by a cracked blue spine that read Romantic Poetry, the silver letters peeling and worn. 

Arina reached for it just as a pair of arms wrapped around her body, holding her tight against a torso. It was Eris, she reminded herself—Eris’s forearm pressed to her throat, Eris’s torso she was pinned against. He wouldn’t kill her.

He’d promised he wouldn’t.

“Are you scared?” Eris whispered, lips brushing gently against the shell of her ear.

Arina couldn’t speak, could only nod her head.

“Relax,” he ordered, pressing his arm harder against her throat. “Go limp.”

Arina tried, but every inch of her demanded she fight him, that she twist and thrash until he let her go. Eris sighed when he felt her rigidity, holding her so tight her ribs groaned. 

“Make me work for it, Arina. Go limp.”

Something about the way he said it—with such authority—made her listen. The part of her brain that wasn’t panicking recognized help. Her whole body flopped toward the ground, causing Eris to groan beneath her weight.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise warming that same alert part of her mind. “See how I have to drag you, now? Do you feel how my hold has to shift?”

“Yes,” she rasped. He’d loosened his grip on her neck just enough for her to take a deep breath. 

“If you had a knife, this would be the time to use it. Let’s pretend you have one hidden in your skirt. Reach for it.”

Arina did as he told her to, fumbling for her pretend knife. Eris tightened his hold with a disapproving click of his teeth. “Too slow.”

And then, without warning, he drew his fingers across her neck like he was slashing her throat. Releasing her, Arina collapsed to the ground, heart racing. 

“You need to be quicker,” he said dispassionately. 

“You surprised me,” she accused, rubbing the skin of her throat. 

“Do you expect your killer to send an invitation beforehand? You need to be prepared, your instincts razor sharp.”

“My governesses must have missed the lesson on not being murdered,” she snapped, though there was no real ire to her words. 

“I’m not surprised to learn your father is inadequate,” was all Eris had to say in response. “Get up. We’ll do it again.”

Arina almost wished Eris had wanted to have sex with her. It would have been easier, would have been over faster. They spent hours going through the same scenario over and over. Sometimes he walked her through what she needed to do step by step and other times he promised her a break, let her drop her guard, and then attacked her all over again.

She left his room wrung out and exhausted. Arina didn’t dare let Eris see it—he wasn’t exactly warm—but the moment she was safe in her own bedroom she fell face first on the mattress and cried her eyes out. Nothing was going the way she’d thought it would and every time Arina tried to make the best of her circumstances, it was like fate decided to add another complication as a little test.

Oh, you thought you could connect with this man? Well, he hates you. 

At least he didn’t want her dead. She could mark Eris off her list of the people trying to kill her, which made it a list of four—maybe five if she took Eris at his word regarding his fathers priorities. 

Beron Vanserra needed her alive in order to make good on the contract. Her father needed her alive in order to secure position and wealth, as well as continue ruling as a vassal lord. Eris didn’t want to marry her, but he didn’t want her dead either. And Elain and Lucien were outsiders entirely. 

But the palace was massive and teeming with people. Was it someone angry she was the one marrying the prince? An angry courtier? A political rival? Just having a direction would have been helpful.

Arina fell asleep turning the question over in her mind, forgetting to go down for dinner or changing out of her clothes. Perhaps she ought to have known Eris wouldn’t give her peace. In retrospect, Arina figured Eris had noticed her absence at dinner and decided it wasn’t enough to torment her during her waking hours.

She felt the weight of the mattress dip moments before he swung his legs over her body and pressed his blade to her throat. Apollo didn’t intervene, raising his head only to look before laying back down in his spot at the edge of the bed. Useless animal.

“Eris,” she whispered, fingers curling around his wrist.

“What happened to your dresser by the door?” he replied, his voice low. She knew what he wanted—or, she thought she did. She didn’t have a real weapon to stab him in the thigh with so she used her pretend one, slamming her fist against his leg before shoving him off her. Eris grunted but didn’t fight her when she straddled his hips, his knife now in her possession.

“If you ever wake me up like that again,” she whispered, her hair falling between them like a curtain, “it’ll be me who kills you.”

Eris’s chest rose and fell rapidly, palms raised upward in defense as she held his knife to this throat. She could have killed him—it would have been so easy to end him right then and there. Eris held her gaze, his eyes cat-like in the dark. 

“Eris?” she whispered.

He blinked. “I…shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why did you?”

Slowly, Eris reached for a strand of her unbound hair and pressed it against his nose. “I’m a fool.”

And with that, she was on her back, knife flopping harmlessly to the bed. Eris stood, adjusting his pants before turning back to look at her sprawled over the mattress. “Keep the dagger.”

“Eris—” He left before she could finish her thought, which was just as well. Arina had no idea what she would have said if he’d stayed. It was strange, though, sitting in the dark wishing he’d come back to do the gods only knew what.

Stranger, still, to realize that the man she was about to marry wanted her.

And that she wanted him, too.

ERIS:

Eris couldn’t focus. Standing in a packed ballroom, all he could think about was Arina’s legs wrapped around his waist and how close he’d come to dragging her back to the mattress and doing every wicked thing he could imagine to her. That was made worse by the woman herself, standing beside Elain and his brother in a golden gown that tapered to a dusky rose the further down the beading went.  The neckline was low enough he could see the swell of her breasts beneath the soft slope of her collar bone and when she walked, a slit revealed a tantalizing peek of her legs. 

He sighed, half relieved when his father approached. “Have you seen your mother?”

Eris scanned the crowd again. “She’s probably fretting over wine again.”

“I’ll handle it. You handle her,” his father ordered, glancing toward Arina.

“Problems?” “With the girl? Not one. With her father? It never ends,” Beron muttered with a scowl. “All he does is complain.”

“Maybe you should kill him,” Eris suggested dispassionately.

“After the wedding,” Beron said with a roll of his eyes. “Finish things with Novak’s daughter.”

“She doesn’t want to be alone,” Eris informed his father, not betraying his own regret. Oh, how he wished Arina acted more like the ladies at court. Their propriety was just for show, their skirts easily lifted. Even now, Eris knew if he made eye contact with any number of the ladies he’d grown up with, they’d be staring right back.

Unlike his betrothed, who hadn’t spared him a glance once.

“You’re charming. I trust you can engineer some scenario that silences her obnoxious father.”

Eris resisted the urge to snap at his father. It wasn’t worth the inevitable pain that would follow. Maybe not right then, maybe not for weeks—but down the road, Beron would make Eris pay. There was only one right answer, and that was whatever his father wanted to hear.

“I’m sure I can manage it.”

His father reached for two goblets of wine off a servant's passing tray. Thrusting them into Eris’s hands, he ordered, “Now.”

Great. 

Eris knew his father was watching just as he knew Arina’s father was watching, too. How far would he go to keep Eris from defiling his daughter? Not far enough, given Eris had successfully gotten into her bed chamber unimpeded twice. All he really needed was to get her alone long enough that it suggested something happened. Though it made his stomach churn, he figured he could get her just drunk enough that she’d let him bring her to his room. After that, all Eris had to do was close the door and let her sleep off the wine on his sofa or the floor or anywhere but next to him.

“You win,” Elain said glumly to Lucien as Eris offered Arina the wine his father had given him. 

“Pay up, princess,” Lucien replied with a grin.

“Do I want to know?” Eris demanded, his temper getting the better of him. Did Elain always need to be hovering over Arina? Couldn’t he have ten minutes alone with his future wife without a million people staring him down? 

“We made a bet—”

“I don’t care,” Eris interrupted flatly, catching the way Arina smothered a smile before taking a drink. “Dance with me before I go out of my mind.”

Arina gulped down the rest of her drink, setting the empty gold cup on a nearby table. Eris followed suit, wondering if she needed alcohol to tolerate him. The thought bothered him even as she turned, flushed and beautiful, and said, “Just one dance?”

Her hand was in his before Eris knew what was happening. He abandoned his drink beside Arina’s, catching sight of a quick-fingered servant whisking them away.

“For now,” he agreed, distracted by the way the lights gilded off her golden hair and how bright her eyes seemed to be. Had her mouth always been so pink? Her skin so smooth? Eris wanted to run his hands up her arms but settled for putting one on the curve of her waist and pulling her just a little too close.

Suggestively so. Arina didn’t seem to notice, staring down at her feet before looking up to meet his gaze. “Can you dance?” he asked.

Arina’s pretty smile shifted and he swore it was disappointment that flashed over her features. “Of course I can.”

He supposed he had been a little mocking when he asked. Eris couldn’t help that. When he was nervous his words came out in a sneer. There was no apologizing, which left him only with a challenge. “Prove it.”

“I hate you. Do you know that?” she asked, stepping with him as the music began. She was fluid like water, eyes on his face, grip pleasant on his shoulder. Eris nudged her a little closer, inhaling the scent of vanilla and lime. 

“I like a passionate woman,” he heard himself saying. 

Arina narrowed her eyes. “What else do you like in a woman?”

Eris knew better than to answer that question honestly. “I like you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I would hate to see how you treat women you don’t like.”

Eris couldn’t help himself. “There’s very little difference.”

“Now that I believe,” she said, the softness returning to her expression. Arina gripped his shoulder just a little tighter as the pair lapsed into silence, focused on their combined steps through the music. They weren’t alone—couples twirled alongside them, talking just loud enough to be heard over the band. There were things Eris wanted to tell her inexplicably—things he’d never told anyone, secrets he’d been keeping his entire life.

It was nothing dark, nothing deep. There were things Eris never wanted to say out loud, circumstances he intended to keep alive only in his mind. His throat burned as he lowered his head and murmured, “My favorite color is orange.”

Arina’s brows shot skyward, eyes widening with obvious and open delight. “Really?” she asked him.

Eris felt immediately stupid. He pulled back, heart pounding. That was a stupid thing to tell her, the regret instantaneous. Arina, though, was never going to let it go. She was grinning, her fingers digging pleasantly into his shoulders.

“Mine is green,” she confided as though admitting some terrible truth. Eris exhaled the breath he’d been holding. It sounded like a laugh, maybe because it half was. 

“I’m starting to see the merits,” he murmured, taking in the mossy green of her eyes. Arina’s cheeks flushed and when she rubbed her palm over his shoulder, sliding down his back, Eris thought he was going insane. He needed to get out of the ballroom before he did something unbearably stupid.

Like kissing her in front of everyone. There was no doubt in Eris’s mind that the wine had made Arina sweeter just as he knew for certain that if he tried to touch her like she was touching him, he’d earn little more than a slap to the face. 

“Have you ever been to the garden?” Arina asked him, pulling Eris from his thoughts. It was tempting to ask why she wanted to know that. Surely she must be aware that Eris had been in that garden hundreds of times for a myriad of different reasons.

He wasn’t stupid, though. When a lady was asking a gentleman if he’d ever been to the garden, what she was really asking for was to be alone. Well. Maybe he was a little stupid, because Eris’s response was, “Not with you.”

“Would you like to see it? With me, I mean?” she asked, her voice sweet and breathless.

“Yes.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Eris remembered this was what he was supposed to be doing. Getting her alone, creating just enough doubt as to what they’d been doing when no one had eyes on them. It didn’t matter if it was true—he’d have her one way or the other—only that people believed it. Eris wished he could say everything was going according to plan but when Arina slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, once again gripping his limb just a little too tightly, all Eris could think about was being alone with her.

Stupid, given he’d been alone with her before. Not like this—not when she was touching him, smiling at him. Arina kept close, following as Eris led them from the ballroom with murmured excuses of getting some air. They certainly weren’t the only ones trying to slip away—it was practically a right of passage for couples to find some private place before their chaperones caught up with them. The only difference was Eris himself, who was a prince and therefore could do whatever he liked.

Well. Not anything. If Eris truly had that kind of power he could have simply pressed Arina against a wall and kissed her like he wanted to and no one—including Arina—would have stopped him. Still, it was a pleasant little fantasy that might have carried him outdoors had Arina not pulled him toward a hall that led the entirely opposite direction.

“Don’t move,” she whispered, yanking him close as footsteps approached. Eris was too distracted by her nearness, unable to look at anything but her palms laid flat against his chest. Obscured by shadows and half hidden behind a rather large pillar, a gaggle of older men filed past, arguing about the latest book written by a poet Eris thought was rather overrated. He might have told Arina so, too, had he not gone to look her in the eyes only to find she was staring back at him.

Oh.

He should have asked. Eris knew it and he didn’t care. If he asked her permission she might have said no and right then every inch of her seemed like an invitation. It was the sweetest she’d ever been, the most inviting and he wanted her. Deciding it was worth the risk, Eris lowered his face and kissed her amid the fading echoes of the crowd, still close enough to the party he could hear the music echoing around them. 

Bracing himself for the inevitable outrage, Eris decided to press his advantage and reach for her face. It felt good to press his mouth against hers, to feel her soft skin beneath him. Eris was so distracted that it took him a minute to realize she was kissing him back. His eyes flew open at the realization. Eris needed confirmation that what he was feeling was, in fact, his reality.

Her eyes were closed, fingers curled in the cobalt blue of his jacket to keep him close. It was right there that ruined Eris—that look on her face, the way she was holding him, kissing him, breathing him in. 

“Open,” he breathed and the hells help him, Arina did exactly as she was told. The kiss was a mess at first, betraying her inexperience though she was a quick study. Eris had her pinned against the wall, her wrists in his hands as he held them over her head and knee wedged between her legs before he could think about his next move. 

All he wanted was to take down her hair and watch it tumble over her shoulders. Well—and then to watch her dress pool at her feet while he slid to his knees and— “Eris,” she breathed, pulling him back to reality. There was something sweet about her mouth.

A familiar sweetness mingled among the wine. Eris kissed her again, taking another taste as he tried to place it. Some part of him didn’t care so long as she kept kissing him…but the other…the other reminded him that she didn’t like him. And now she was half desperate, rubbing herself against his leg as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his jacket and—

“Fuck,” Eris snarled, turning his head in a desperate attempt to catch his breath. The syrupy sweetness betrayed itself—he should have recognized it the moment his tongue first slid into his mouth but Eris was too excited to notice. Myrrah—from the root of a regular berry plant—was a powerful aphrodisiac a lot of people took recreationally at court. Husbands sometimes slipped it in their new brides drinks after a wedding to make things easier, though Eris had never liked that practice.

For one wild minute he considered turning back to the ball and drinking some himself so he could finish what they’d started. He might have, too—the idea was powerfully tempting—had he not felt Arina’s fingers slide into his hands. Catching her wrist without thinking, Eris knew he needed to stop her before she took things too far. 

“With me,” he panted, cock twitching desperately. 

“Anywhere,” she said, opening her eyes to look at them. Eris swore softly at the sight of her blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. She tried to take a step, but Myrrah made everyone a little disoriented, made the room seemed to swirl in a way that was more pleasant than it wasn’t. Eris scooped her up before she could fall flat on her face, took a deep breath, and began walking her toward her bedroom as quickly as he could.

“I want you,” she said, the pretty little liar. 

“Tell me again in the morning,” Eris replied. “Tell me when you wake up and I’ll give you anything you like.” “Anything?”

Yes, anything. Gold, jewels, land—whatever she wanted. Maybe that was his own arousal talking, but Eris would have made her an untold number of promises if it meant she’d willingly put her hands back between his legs. 

“Where are you—Eris!” Arina shrieked, but Eris had dumped her onto the floor in her bathing chamber and slammed the door before she could stop him. “Open this door right now!” she demanded, pounding the palm of her hand against the door.

“I can’t,” he told her, sliding down the wood to keep it closed. 

“Please—”

“Don’t,” he managed, closing his eyes. “Don’t beg.”

“You don’t want me?”

“Fuck—yes, I want you,” he admitted, forcing the words from behind his teeth. “And if I take you this way, you’ll hate me in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” he replied, saying the words as a reminder to himself. She wouldn’t forgive him, would be furious he hadn’t stopped her. “You’re out of your mind right now and don’t know what you want.”

There was blessed silence for a moment. Eris knew better than to think Arina had fallen asleep—he’d been in her position before, though he’d, at least, been able to relieve himself with a partner. Eris had no intention of freeing her so she could roam the halls like a cat in heat, nor did he intend to help her. She’d simply have to handle things herself.

And like an utter degenerate, he was going to stay exactly where he was and listen.

“I like you,” Arina said softly, still too breathless for his liking.

“Liar.”

“You have nice hair,” she protested, voice rising with irritation. “And I like your eyes…your hands…”

“Stop,” he breathed, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

“Open the door, Eris. Let me show you—”

“In the morning,” he groaned, his willpower shredding with each sultry word that poured from her throat. “Ask me in the morning.”

“Do you not like me?”

Eris groaned again. “Too much,” he admitted, spreading his legs apart. It did little to alleviate his need. “But not like this.”

“Then how?”

Fuck it, he decided, reaching for his belt. If he couldn’t touch her, he could at least touch himself. He could still talk to her, could make it a little bearable at least on his end. “In your right mind, to start with.”

“Maybe it’s better this way. Get it over with—”

“Trust me,” he half panted, gripping his cock in one hand. Eris stroked himself to the sound of Arina’s little gasps behind the wood and the image of what she must be doing to elicit such noise. 

“Will it hurt?” she asked him breathlessly.

“No,” he swore, closing his eyes so he could imagine it. “Trust me.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Will you be angry if I have?”

He’d never considered that prospect before, maybe because he’d never expected his wife to be untouched. He’d assumed he’d end up with one of the ladies at court and while virginity was the official expectation, it was a rule too often skirted around in favor of hedonistic fun. 

“It seems unfair. Maybe I should be allowed—”

“No.”

“No?”

Eris stroked himself again, exhaling a soft, shuddering breath. “No,” he agreed. “It’s too late now. I want your first time.”

“You’re selfish.”

“Jealous, too,” he agreed. “I don’t want to share you anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t be such a bad husband.”

Eris’s hand stilled for a moment, cheek pressed against the wood. There were a million things he wanted to say, all of them choked by emotion. He couldn’t accept the compliment nor could he find the words to assure he would do his best. What if he failed? What if he was no better than his father? 

“Where are your hands?” he asked instead, retreating to comfortable, familiar territory.

“Under my dress,” she replied. Eris groaned loudly for her benefit, knowing damn well he shouldn’t. 

“Next time it’ll be my mouth,” he told her with more conviction than he’d ever felt. So he couldn’t tell her the truth about himself—maybe he could show her, then. His actions could be enough, he decided, and if not his actions than the way his body touched her own. 

“Your mouth?” Arina asked breathlessly. It wasn’t really a question and still Eris gripped his cock tighter, pumping faster.

“Yes,” he agreed, eyes closed as he imagined her legs spread for him. What did he want more? His cock in her throat or the taste of her cunt smeared across her lips? Both, he decided. He wanted it at the same time, wanted her thighs straddling his face as she took him, unable to move while Eris spent half an evening eating her.

And then he’d flip her over, breasts pressed to the blankets, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk the next morning. He could practically feel it, was lost to the fantasy and the sound of Arina’s own soft, desperate moans. 

“That’s it,” he rasped, unsure if he was talking to her or himself. “Come for me.”

Arina did—or, he thought she did. He was so used to loud screams that her breathless gasps of air seemed like a revelation. Was this what it was like when the woman he wanted didn’t care if he was a prince or not? Eris came, too, hips jerking off the ground as come splattered against his hand. 

The timing was terrible. Arina turned the door handle, tumbling on top of him just as a servant burst into the room, eyes wide with horror.

“I—”

“Well, fuck,” Eris snarled, trying to shove himself back into his pants without making a mess of the woman tangled up in his lap. “It’s not…”

What it looks like. He never managed to get the words out—the servant scurried away, leaving Eris alone 

“You feel better now, don’t you?” he dared to ask, buttoning his pants as Arina stood, cheeks burning red. 

“I—”

He reached for her chin, squishing her cheeks gently beneath her fingers. Eris kissed her, ignoring how wide her eyes were.

“When you wake up, don’t regret this.”

Though, if he was honest with himself, Eris regretted leaving her in a heap on the floor.

Still.

That was for the best.