#ahhh it arrived safely

[ineffablehusbandscentral]

<3 <3 (this is my goomens sideblog so im reblogging here)

im so glad you like it!!

@sleepyskele I LOOOOOOVE IT!!!!!!

[ashnnix]

Various JJK Men x Male Husband reader

Tw: triplepen,overstimulatiom,Dubcon, Dacryphilia,marking,mentions of blood,ass ripper,vibrator,not safe sex, spanking, buldge, cum inflation, degradation, polysex, taking a video without consent

Summary: after fucking your husband and three men another three men barge in to fuck you in one go♡︎

PT.1 PT3

Minors dni

Fem align dni

"Im...shoo full ahhh~♡︎" Gojo pulled out his soft dick, he watched bunch of cums flows out on your sore ass. You lay limp on the couch, twicthing, shaking sweaty eyes rolled back. Your ass is red from how harsh these four men fucked you

Gojo stood up to take a rest. He chug on a bunch of water to ready himself for another round, but the three men they're waiting finally arrive

You heard the door open again, a man laughed at the scene

"Fuck I'm hard already"

"Smells like sex here"

"bought the vibrator, good..."

Your head turned to the voice, and your mouth went dry. Your eyes let out more tears

The three men whos already taking off their clothes. They're the men who you rejected after giving their everything to you. You saw how Sukuna glared down at your lewd form, grinning down like he planned all of this. Naoya whos now stroking his dick with lube, biting his lip from the sensation his dick twitched from the thought of wanting to fuck you deep. Toji, who's walking closer to you, he looked at your body like you are one of his target

"N-no more....ahh"

Toji laughed down at how pathetic you look. Your eyes eyeing his thick dick hard and ready

"You say that, but you're drooling over my dick." You bit your tongue. Your mind is fighting with your body. Fighting the urge to just be a whore infront of them all

"Now now....be gentle with my husband" All the men inside the room scoffed at Gojo, even Getou didn't fuck with it

"Satoru you promised" Getou glared at Gojo whos taking a break from the good fuck he just had

"Just kidding Suguru, you know I always keep my words" Gojo looked down at the ring in his fingers, he saw your ring on the floor that slipped after he fucked you

You felt betrayed on what you just heard, with a sigh you gave up. You tried to push your weak body, you leaned on the couch and spread your legs wide. The men smirked on how successfully they had you in their arms again

"Fine, p-please...haa....fuck me deep♡︎" you said lewdly while your dick twitched already leaking precum. Toji got a hold of you first, holding both of your legs while your back touched his big pecs

Naoya grabbed the vibrator as he licked his lips. He tapped the vibrator on your hard red slippery dick and turned in on a high setting. The rough vibrating toy in your dick made your body shake as you squirted another cum

"Ohhh Noya! Se-sensitive! ahhh~♡︎" you squealed so loud Sukuna put his finger on your mouth

"Shut the fuck up whore, I wont forgive you for rejecting me you bitch. Better take this dick well" Toji glared at Sukuna, he scoffed and rolled his eyes

"We three can all take him," Naoya said, Toji and Sukuna felt their dick twitch at the thought

Your eyes widen in fear your mouth went dry again, two dicks almost ripped your hole. If you took three your gonna rip

The three men lined up their dick rubbing their tip on your wet twicthing rim

"No! Its not gonna fi- ohmp!" Sukuna put in his fingers back to your mouth again

They all took a deep breath before the three men simultaneously went inside you, rough and hard. You throw your head back, hitting Tojis big pecs, Sukuna's fingers slipping away inside your mouth

"OHH! IM GONNA RIP~"You felt it, the pain in your ass. You let out a lot of tears sobbing and laying limp on Tojis chest. Blood dripping from the floor, the pain of being forced to take three dicks is too much for you. And the vibrator is still making your sensitive dick let out cum

"Hurts....ahhh hurts..."

The four men watching didn't feel bad, except for Gojo whos holding back. This is the consequences of your actions, never reject obsessed men again or they gonna fuck you rough to get it in your head

"Fuck youre haa... tight honey" You heard Toji groan his big strong body still holding you

"Mu- fuck! tighter than the other whores I fucked" Noaya grinned as he gave your thighs a kiss

"You're ahhh gonna take this dick every day from now on" Sukuna grinned, biting your shaking thighs

The three men started pounding rough inside you, using blood as a lube never turned you on. But your body keeps begging for more

Fwop Fwop Fwop

"Ohhh~ ahh! Ngh! S-shoo ahh! rough~♡︎" You helplessly whined just staying on Tojis arm taking it like a good boy♡︎!!

Fwop Fwop Fwop

"Haa... fu-fuck! yo- ahh! feel so good~" Naoya whined his dick twitching at your tight hole and two men's dick rubbing his dick inside your tight twitching hole. He grab the camera near him and started filming this hot sex he wouldn't forget

Fwop Fwop Fwop

"Shit! You're fucked Y/N!" Sukuna laughed the pleasure he felt from your body made him already leak pre cum

Fwop Fwop Fwop

"You feel good? Huh? Does my thick dick feel good~" Toji whispered near your ears, making you shiver

"Ohh good! Feels good!" You moaned like a desperate whore, your eyes finally saw the camera. Naoya bit his lip as he zoomed it into your face

"Smile from ngh~ camera Y/N...." You gave your lewd smile drool coming out. As snot came out your nose from crying too much

"Say you fucking love our dicks!" Sukuna screamed as he gave your ass a spanking

You squealed from the pain, your eyes made contact from the camera and did a peace sign

"I love all of your dicks...♡︎"

The three men fucking you felt their dick twitched again, they began to fuck you much faster than before. Their balls hitting your ass making it red from the impact

"Ngh!! Roug- ahh~ mmf!"

With their final thrust, Toji came inside you first while Naoya and Sukuna pulled out to spray their cum all over your body

"Cu-cumming! Oh im cumming hard! N-no more~!!" Your dick squirted another load also staining your chest

The camera Noaya's holding zoomed all over every parts with their stained cum all over your body. You looked absolutely wrecked. Your ass with blood now also filled with Tojis load

"Fuck that was hot"

The four men whos taking a break felt their dick harden again, they walked near you whos now catching breath

"Want another round? Getou said as he patted your head

You passed out before you can even reply

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[astrxq]

cregan stark x wife!reader — prompt list 1.19 from my autumn party!

words: 3.1k

notes: ahhh first time writing "smut"… not sure how i did but let me know! requested

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Winterfell's lord's chambers, casting a warm glow on the sleeping forms nestled beneath the furs. For once, the ever-vigilant Cregan Stark slumbered peacefully, his usually tense features relaxed in repose. You stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open to take in the rare sight of your husband still abed at this hour.

A smile tugged at your lips as you remembered his return the previous evening. Cregan had been gone for nearly a fortnight, leading a hunting party deep into the Wolfswood. When he'd finally ridden through Winterfell's gates, you'd barely contained your relief and joy at seeing him safe and whole. Now, as you gazed upon his sleeping face, the worry that had gnawed at you during his absence melted away.

Cregan's arm was draped heavily across your waist, holding you close even in sleep. You shifted slightly, pressing yourself more firmly against his broad chest, relishing the warmth of his body after so many cold nights alone. As if sensing your movement, Cregan's grip tightened reflexively, drawing you even nearer.

You couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between this tender moment and the stern, unyielding man the rest of the world saw. The Lord of Winterfell, the Wolf of the North – titles that spoke of duty and strength, but revealed nothing of the gentle heart that beat beneath that gruff exterior. A heart you'd slowly come to know over the course of your marriage.

It hadn't been an easy path. When you'd first arrived at Winterfell as Cregan's bride, you'd found him distant and taciturn. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to leave little room for warmth or affection. But you were no shrinking violet, and you'd been determined to forge a true partnership with your new husband.

Memories of those early days flitted through your mind as you nestled against Cregan. The awkward silences at meals, the stilted conversations as you tried to find common ground. But there had been moments of connection too – a shared laugh over some courtly mishap, the quiet pride in his eyes when you'd handled a delicate diplomatic situation with grace.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the ice had begun to thaw between you. You'd discovered Cregan's dry wit, hidden beneath layers of Northern stoicism. He'd come to appreciate your quick mind and steady presence at his side. Trust had grown, tentative at first, then stronger with each passing moon.

And now, after moons of patience and perseverance, you found yourself here – wrapped in the arms of a man who had become more than just your lord husband. Cregan Stark had become your partner, your confidant, and yes, your love.

You nuzzled your face against his chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of pine and leather clung to him still, mingled with something uniquely Cregan that never failed to make your heart quicken. Your movement must have finally roused him, for you felt his chest rumble with a low groan as he began to stir.

"Good morrow, my lord," you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice. "The sun is high in the sky. Have the fearsome Lord of Winterfell's habits grown lax in his old age?"

Cregan's eyes cracked open, still heavy with sleep. He regarded you for a long moment before a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Watch who you're calling old, wife," he grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. His hand, calloused from years of wielding sword and bow, came up to cup your cheek. "The hunt was long, and the furs are warm. Can you blame a man for savoring a moment's peace?"

You leaned into his touch, your own hand coming to rest over his. "Never, my love. You've more than earned your rest." Your tone grew more serious as you added, "I've missed you, Cregan. These past days have been... long."

Something softened in Cregan's gaze at your words. He knew well the toll his absences took on you, just as you understood the duties that often called him away. It was a delicate balance you both strove to maintain – the needs of the North weighed against the needs of your own hearts.

"As have I, my dear," Cregan admitted, his voice rough with more than just sleep. "Each night in that cursed forest, I found myself longing for the warmth of our bed... and the even sweeter warmth of your embrace."

Such open declarations of feeling were still rare from your taciturn husband, and you treasured each one. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that spoke volumes of your own longing.

Cregan responded immediately, one hand tangling in your hair as the other pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened, months of practice allowing you to fit together perfectly. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, you couldn't help but grin.

"I fear I've grown quite spoiled, my lord," you said, affecting a dramatic tone. "A mere fortnight without you, and I've become positively needy. Whatever shall we do about this dreadful affliction?"

A low chuckle rumbled through Cregan's chest. "Is that so?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "And what would my lady suggest as a cure for this... neediness?"

You pretended to consider the question, tapping your chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Well, I suppose there are ways for a husband to please his wife."

"Is that an order from my lady wife?" Cregan's voice had dropped to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

"It is," you declared imperiously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the breathless quality of your own voice. "Your lord wife demands attentio–"

Your words were cut off as Cregan's lips claimed yours once more. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, filled with all the longing of your time apart. His hands roamed your body, relearning curves and planes he knew as well as his own. You melted into his touch, your own fingers tracing the strong lines of his back and shoulders.

When you parted again, both panting slightly, you saw a familiar heat kindling in Cregan's grey eyes. "I believe," he growled, "that I have been remiss in my husbandly duties. Allow me to make amends, my lady."

Cregan's lips moved to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch they could reach, his hand sneaking past the soft material of your sleep gown to explore the warmth of your skin beneath. A gasp escaped your lips as his mouth found the sensitive curve just beneath your ear, the sensation sending delightful shivers coursing through your body. You tilted your head back, allowing him more access, every gentle caress igniting a longing that had been stifled for far too long.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. "The day awaits us. We have responsibilities–"

His kisses trailed lower, warm and demanding, brushing against the soft fabric of your gown. "Let the day wait," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "This is our moment. I���ve missed you, and I intend to make every second count."

You couldn't suppress the way your heart raced, his touch igniting a fire within you that only he could kindle. His fingers traced shaped on your waist as he hungrily licked a pack down to your chest. 

He groaned once he made contact with the clothing that separated him from your breasts, as if annoyed by it, he moved his hands to move the straps of the gown down, revealing what he'd been waiting for for so long. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, heightening your awareness of his every touch.

“By the gods,” he breathed, his voice laced with reverence as he gazed at you. The look in his eyes made your cheeks flush, a mix of shyness and desire. It was a rare thing to see Cregan Stark so openly captivated, and the sight fueled a boldness within you.

“Do you like what you see, my lord?” you teased, your voice low and playful, though the way your heart raced betrayed the calm you tried to project.

Cregan’s gaze darkened with a mix of hunger and admiration. “More than you can imagine,” he replied, his fingers gliding over your skin, exploring every curve with a deliberate slowness that made you ache for more.

“Cregan…” The name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and you could see the way it affected him – his breath catching, his hands freezing in place. It was a heady power to know that you had such an effect on him.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your collarbone, sending a delightful shiver racing down your spine. “Every moment without you has been torture,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t return to you empty-handed… that I’d come back bearing gifts worthy of my lady wife.”

You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his intense gaze. “And what gift do you bring me, my lord?” You smiled, a playful glint sparking in your eyes, hoping to tease him further.

“Let me show you,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. 

His hands moved the cloth down your body, seeing his hungry eyes as if he was admiring every detail. Finally, the gown left your body, his hands tightening on your hips. He pulled, then, making you move down the bed so you were laid completely.

Eyes locking with yours, he grazed his body back, until his chin hit your thigh, he laid a soft kiss there, then another and another, each one trailing higher, awakening every nerve beneath his lips. 

You gasped, a tremor running through you at the unexpected sensation. Cregan’s warm breath danced across your skin, teasing and tantalizing, and you felt as if he was drawing out all the longing that had been buried deep within you during his absence.

“Every part of you deserves to be worshiped,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he continued his slow ascent. Your body responded instinctively, arching toward him, seeking more of his touch, more of the heat radiating from him.

His hands explored the delicate curves of your thighs, fingers brushing against the soft skin, sending delightful shivers through your body. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed, his gaze never wavering from yours, filled with a mix of admiration and hunger that made your heart race faster.

His hair had gone messy, from the sleeping and the kissing. You moved your hand to gently move it out of his face as he kissed your thighs, hands still holding onto your hips. At the feeling of your hand in his hair, he hitched up your knee, your leg now resting on his shoulder.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, the intimacy of the moment electrifying. Cregan looked up at you from his place between your thighs, his eyes alight with mischief and desire, as if he relished every second spent worshiping you. The way he gazed at you made your heart flutter, igniting a yearning that had been building like a wildfire in your chest.

“Cregan…” you breathed, the sound barely above a whisper, an invitation and a plea all at once.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he pressed his lips to the soft skin of your thigh, his warm breath sending tingling sensations coursing through you. You gripped the furs beneath you, fighting the urge to arch your back as he continued his tantalizing path, leaving a trail of kisses that made you dizzy with anticipation.

The world outside the chamber faded away, the responsibilities and duties of Winterfell slipping from your mind as you surrendered to the moment. Cregan’s hands were firm and confident, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your hips as he inched closer to your center, teasing you with his slow, deliberate movements.

“Do you know how long I dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, the warmth of his breath against your skin causing you to shiver in response. “Each night in the forest, all I could think about was coming back to you.”

You could feel your pulse quicken at his words, the raw honesty behind them igniting a fire deep within you. “I wished for you every day, husband,” you confessed, your voice trembling with longing. “Every moment apart felt like an eternity.”

You tightened your hold on his hair when he reached your heat, the soft kiss placed on you made you shiver in pleasure, a sigh leaving your lips. Then, a slow lick of a stripe, he hummed as he tasted you.

The sensation rippled through you, sending a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Cregan's mouth was warm and inviting, and as he savored your essence, you felt an exquisite blend of vulnerability and power in this intimate act. Every flick of his tongue ignited your senses, drawing forth soft gasps and shudders from your lips that filled the otherwise quiet chamber. You couldn't help but wonder how one man could wield such mastery over your body, and the thought alone sent a thrill of delight coursing through you.

“Cregan,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, the name tasting sweet on your tongue as you surrendered to the blissful sensations he was drawing from you. He paused for a brief moment, looking up at you, those grey eyes smoldering with heat and intent, and you could see the raw need etched in the lines of his face.

“Let me hear you,” he urged, his voice low and gravelly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “Please.”

You nodded, emboldened by the warmth in his gaze, as his mouth resumed its heavenly ministrations. He teased you with lingering kisses, his warm breath contrasting deliciously against the coolness of the room, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the warmth of the furs beneath you, the heady scent of pine, leather, and Cregan’s unique musk swirling around you. Every soft brush of his lips and each firm flick of his tongue was perfectly attuned to your body, as if he had learned your every secret through those long nights apart. He knew how to coax the sensations from you, his skilled movements igniting a fire that blazed brighter with every passing second.

“Please, don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice filled with urgency as you felt the building pressure within you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel at any moment. “I–”

He took your words as a challenge, redoubling his efforts. Instinctively, his hand moved up to hold yours, fingers linked together as he used the other hand to pull you closer to his mouth. Cregan’s lips moved with fervor, the sounds of your pleasure spilling from your lips mixing with the soft sighs of his own desire. He consumed you, wholly and completely, until all you could focus on was the heat building between your legs and the way his hands gripped you possessively.

“More, Cregan,” you whimpered, your body arching instinctively toward him, seeking more of the ecstasy he was so expertly delivering. It was as if he was the sun, and you were drawn into his orbit, helplessly caught in the warmth of his desire.

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. He shifted his focus, his movements becoming more deliberate and focused as he traced delicate circles, pushing you higher and higher toward the precipice of bliss.

With each tantalizing stroke, you could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. Your fingers clenched in his hair, urging him on, and Cregan obliged with a growl of delight that sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“I need you,” you breathed, the words escaping before you could think better of them. You knew it was true; your body craved him, and the aching longing that had been stifled during his absence ignited into an all-consuming desire.

He lifted his head momentarily, the flush on his cheeks matching yours as he gazed at you, an intensity burning in his eyes. “You have me,” he promised, his voice low and thick with desire. “You will always have me.” And then he returned to his feast, working you higher, his focus unwavering.

With each teasing caress and each gentle suckle, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, the world outside fading further as you surrendered completely to the sensations he was igniting within you. The exquisite pressure tightened and tightened until it finally burst, sending you spiraling over the edge into a world of blinding pleasure.

You cried out his name, the sound reverberating in the chamber as wave after wave of bliss washed over you. It was a moment of pure euphoria, your body trembling as you rode the heights of pleasure, feeling as if you could float away on the sheer intensity of it all.

Cregan held you close, his hands steady against your hips as he guided you through the peaks and valleys of your climax, whispering sweet nothings that only deepened your connection. He worshiped you even in the throes of your release, kissing away your cries as he drew you back down gently, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

As the tremors of pleasure subsided, you gazed down at him, breathless and glowing, the room still echoing with the remnants of your bliss. Cregan's face radiated a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness, his lips curled into a smirk that made your heart flutter.

Afterwards, catching your breaths, you lay tangled together, a sheen of sweat cooling on your skin as you basked in the afterglow.

"I should go hunting more often," Cregan mused, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder, "if this is the welcome I can expect upon my return."

You swatted his chest playfully. "Don't you dare," you warned. "Or I shall be forced to accompany you on every expedition, propriety be damned."

Cregan's laugh was full and rich, a sound that never failed to warm your heart. "Now there's a terrifying thought. The great lords of the North, cowering before the fierce Lady Stark as she stalks through the Wolfswood."

You propped yourself up on one elbow, fixing him with a mock glare. "And why shouldn't they cower? I've tamed the fiercest wolf of all, have I not?"

Something shifted in Cregan's expression then, the mirth fading into something deeper, more intense. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. "Aye," he said softly. "That you have, my love. That you have."

You settled back against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. The rest of the world could wait, you decided. For now, this moment was yours alone – you and Cregan, wrapped in the cocoon of your shared love, savoring a peace that had been long in the making.

[adoredaqua]

A Simple Misunderstanding

NOTE: Ahhh, I finally finished it! Here is the olderbf!simon riley fic I was talking about. I changed some parts of it so it fits a little better. ALSO! This is my first time writing something like this, so go easy on me (lolol(no, but seriously, tho)). And no, it is not edited :) I hope you all enjoy it!

Inspo for this (all of these parts have just been made into one full fic btw): part 1, part 2, part 3

Synopsis: olderbf! simon has more experience than you...but why does that seem to be a bad thing?

CW: Reader is gender neutral. Reader gets called "pretty" (once). Implied age gap (not specified). Mentions of alcohol and heavy consumption are implied but not too detailed. A bit of angst towards the end. [Let me know if I need to put anything else]

word count: 2k+

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

Simon Riley was one good drinker. That alone pissed you off. You've never seen him drunk or flustered, and yet he's already lost count of how many times he's found you sitting on the curbs slurring your words, patiently waiting for him.

Tonight was the night. You were going to get your boyfriend drunk. Not like that, of course. You just wanted to see a new side of him. He's always so stoic and so tough. What was he like when he had his guard down? Would he get shy? Is he secretly a flirt? What was he hiding from you? Well, this was it. Tonight was date night; better yet, it was your pick on what kind of date you were having. As you sit by your desk at work, you think over your plan and nod to yourself.

This is a good idea.

Before you know it, the hours go by, and it's time for your date with your man. You go home for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Next thing you know, you hear a loud knock at your door.

"One sec!" With one last look over at yourself, you make your way to the door. You swing open and look up. "Hi, honey!" You looked up and smiled widely. Simon stands by the door, holding a bouquet of your favourites. He smiles softly once he looks you over. "Hello, dear, you look good." He presses a kiss on your lips, and you can't help but melt in his touch. "Are you reading to go?" 

"Yes, sir, let's go." You grab your purse and cling onto Simon's arm as he walks you both to his truck.

The drive to the bar was a long one, not that you both minded. This was usually the time when you would ramble about your day to Simon. He enjoyed it because he didn't need to do anything but listen to your voice. His favourite thing to do. He liked that you told him every detail, no matter how small, because to him, it meant everything. Finally arriving at your destination, he turns off the engines, makes his way to your side, and opens your door. 

"Always the gentleman, huh?" You giggled to yourself as you teased him. He couldn't help but chuckle at you. Walking to the entrance, arm in arm, you become more determined about reaching your goal.

He leads you toward the back, a more secluded area, just as you both like it. Once you've settled yourself in, he orders for the both of you. That's what you loved about Simon. You don't need to think for yourself; he'll take care of you. Yes, you enjoy being independent, but sometimes you just want to be cared for. A perk of dating a much older man. When you told your friends about the age gap between you two, they weren't all too surprised. You always had a thing for older men, what shocked them was how intimidating he was and how different you both were. He was more on the rugged side as you were on the more dainty side. But when they noticed how much he cared for you, they knew you were in safe hands. 

"I must say, sweets, this is quite different from your other suggestions for date night. I'm surprised you even know a place like this." He throws you a curious look and you feign an innocent smile. "I know, I wanted to try something new!"

"Well, this is certainly different." He gives a reassuring smile and takes your hand. He envelopes his hand around yours and starts to rub circles on the back of your hand. "Is there a reason why you wanted different? You're not getting bored now, are you?" He leans in, quirking an eyebrow, almost like he knew of your plans. 

"Nooo, I genuinely wanted to try something new and I'm not getting bored, silly." You pout at him and he snickers at your reaction, placing a kiss on your hand. 

Simon and you have only officially started dating for six months but you've known him for over two years. The reason why it took so long for you to get together was his job. Being in the military had its ups and downs. One of the many downs was being away for god knows how long. Simon stated that he didn't want you getting involved with him when half of the time he was away. You deserve someone always around but that didn't stop you from pursuing him. Once he understood how determined you were, he took you out for the night. Let's just say you didn't return to your own home after a week. 

"Si?"

"Yes love?"

"What's your alcohol tolerance like?" You tilt your head to the side to catch a better look at him. He furrows his brows at you. "I'm not sure."

"You not sure?" 

"Well when I know I'm drunk I'll stop but I can drink around... maybe eight to ten bottles of beer. Maybe more?" He looks unsure of himself but he goes back to the drink already in front of him. He was on drink three while you were still on your first. 

"Now, why are you-" Before he could say anymore you cut him off. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Um, black?" He gives you a quizzical look. 

"Do you like cupcakes?"

"It's okay I guess."

As the night went on, you continued to throw questions at Simon. He didn't seem bothered by your sudden eagerness to learn all about him. Being too distracted by your interrogation, Simon without a second thought kept drinking. He's never answered this many questions in one sitting, who knew you could get so thirsty? You did. You drank as well but at a slower pace. You try to think of more questions but you start to feel fuzzy. As you take a few bites of the food in front of you, you think to yourself about how else you could distract him.

"What're your exes like?" Before you could think about what you were asking, the words have already left you. As you comprehended what you were asking, you stayed still and slowly looked at the man in front of you. Simon's face was neutral, his eyes didn't tell much of a story. You couldn't tell if you had crossed a line. You knew what he was like. If he wanted you to know something, he would tell you. There wasn't any reason for him to be secretive, it was simply a habit of his that he couldn't seem to break. For you, he tries. 

"I'm sorry, you do-"

"I won't tell you of the ones in high school, I didn't know better back then." He blankly states but there is a softness to his eyes. 

"Really?" A curiosity starts to bloom within you, you didn't realize you wanted to know about his dating history so badly. 

"Sure, well then my first serious girlfriend was a nurse. We met on the base. She quit, and she realized that military life was too much. She's married with kids now." He smiles to himself, remembering a past life of his. You wanted to know more about her but you were too late, Simon continues. "Then there was the baker, she was nice. Eventually, she started her bakery and we both got too busy with life to see each other. Oh, and then there was the artist. I'm not sure where she is now, last I heard of her she was a feature at some museum."

"Oh, well, thank you for-"

"Then there was..."

Simon continued to talk as if he was put under a spell. You would be relieved, happy even, if the topic wasn't his dating history. You never thought he was the dating type but not. He seems to have dated all sorts of women, women who have become successful in life and career. You couldn't help but start to feel annoyed. Once he is done, he meets your eyes and they wrinkle. "Hmm, something they all had in common was how they made me feel like a great person and now," he looks straight into your eyes, "I'm with an amazing woman." His eyes wrinkle as he grins. 

"Wow, you've dated a lot of successful people."

"I guess that's true." He shrugs, I guess he's never given it much of a thought. That was probably his type...then why is he dating you?

Compared to these women, you were practically nothing. You worked in an office, you didn't have an ambition or any talents. You weren't his type at all. You were a young pretty thing that can't take 'no' for an answer. Maybe that's the reason why he agreed to go out with you. 

You shake that thought out of your head. He was dating you for a reason, he's stayed with you for this long. He adores you. You shouldn't get angry or upset at anyone. This man who is now perfect thanks to those before you is yours now. You're the true winner.

"How about you?"

"What?"

"How many people have there been before me?" He asks with no hint of jealousy at all. I mean he's too old for that.  

"Uhh, none?" You cringe at your answer. Simon was the first man you dated. Even in college, no one caught your eye to go on a date with. Besides, when you did like someone, it was always one-sided.

"What?"

"I don't know, I just never really liked anyone in college. I graduated, got a job, worked and kept working. Then I met you." 

"Wait, that means... I'm...?" Simon had a mortified look on his face, something you've never seen before. Well, one time you introduced the concept of social media to him and he did not understand in the slightest. 

Simon couldn't seem to find the words, so you finished his thought for him. "Yes, you're my first boyfriend."

"...Oh my lord..." 

Wait, is it that bad? I thought men liked it when they were in someone's first relationship. Is that wrong?

He grabs his drink and starts to chug it without another thought. 

"Ah, please stop drinking!!" You try to grab the bottle away but it is a failed attempt, he finishes his drink and slams the glass on the table. 

What the hell? Why was that his reaction? 

"Well, it seems like I'm just not as charming as you are." You say.

"Don't say such things. When you become my age, you'll have dated more people than I have." 

You looked at Simon, thinking what he could mean. 

"What? Why would I date anyone else?" Being the overthinker you are, every thought comes to your head and the worst ones seem to become true. "Are you thinking of breaking up with me?"

"That's not what I meant. I just mean that maybe in the distant future-" Simon was caught off guard and his usual calm self was gone. Now he was trying to fix the mess he made. 

"Why are you assuming that the future is distant or not?" Before you can carry on, he puts a hand to stop you. "What I meant was," he takes both of your hands in his and looks deeply into your eyes. "You said that this is your first relationship, and most first relationships don't last long."

You felt your heart dropping.

"Anyways, you never know what could happen. You're young, smart and attractive with a life ahead of you." He squeezes your hands together, a way to reassure you that this conversation was just some misunderstanding and it was silly. But something inside of you just didn't feel right. 

Why would he say something like that? 

"So, you don't think we're going to stay together?" The question was heavy, it felt like everyone started to listen to the conversation but you didn't care enough. An answer is what you need, not the opinions of others. 

"That's-" Simon stops himself, refusing to say anymore. He shakes himself as if to wake himself up from a nightmare. "Listen, my love, I've had a lot to drink. Why don't we continue this tomorrow instead?" 

"Continue what exactly? The inevitable?" He was about to stop you but you didn't care for any of it. You grab your purse and start to walk out of the door. You didn't look back and just walked on. You didn't care if he was following you or that it was late at night. All you wanted was to not be near him anymore. 

[nipuni]

AHHH time to pack our computers for the move, I hope they arrive safely!! if anything happens to them I won't be able to play Veilguard for a while, getting replacements is more that we can afford at the moment 😭🙏

We don't own many things so we are sharing a truck with other people and it's a long distance trip and it will take a couple of days to make it there so I'm nervous!!

Moving far away was a lot easier five years ago when all we owned fit into two suitcases 😆

[pyramid-of-starrs]

Stretch you out

Pairing: Gym Trainer Yeosang x gn!reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warning: Unprotected sex (make sure you are safe besties), vaginal sex, dry humping kinda??, sub reader, kinda pwp

A/N: I honest can just see Yeo being a gym trainer that you tell your friends you wanna fuck tbh lol. It's just something short and fun to give yall!

"C'mon, you can do it, a little more for me."

"Ahh~ please no more Yeo, you're gonna break me." You said between your battered moaning.

"No I'm not, you can handle it." he giggled as he watched you struggle. Two things were going on right now that caused you to struggle at this moment.

Number one, Yeosang, your unforgiving trainer decided to call you out on your excuses today. You always quit the routines he would give you mid-way saying your body felt tight and that you forgot to stretch at home. Him being a sweetheart he didn't want to overwork you and risk you pulling something so he always let you bail out, however today he offered to help stretch you out and wouldn't take no for an answer. You arrived at his gym prepared to be worked out to high hell today, thank god you got private sessions so no one else would be there to watch you suffer. At first, the stretching was pretty standard and not that bad, you actually felt your body loosening up, he then instructed you to lay on your back so he could stretch your legs, thighs, and glutes. Your heart raced a bit thinking about your sexy and buff trainer gripping your legs and ass but you refrained from thinking too much about it to keep a professional vibe. Feeling Yeosang palm your ass like a basketball made you feel hot inside and you couldn't help but let out small "Fuck"s and whimpers as he shifted your legs in various positions

The thought of him flipping you around with ease while he fucked you turned you on so much, maybe too much because you started to feel your pussy tingle as it got wetter the more he touched you. You looked down to see Yeo sweating from moving you around, the sweat made those huge biceps of his glisten and of course, he chose to wear a sleeveless Nike compression shirt today and his broad chest looked huge, you could feel the room spinning but you kept your composure. It was all swell until he gripped both your ankles and folded your legs to your shoulders.

"Ahhh, fuck." your eyes got wide at your sudden outburst.

"Feels good to be getting stretched out like this huh? See what happens when you prep properly!" He said with an eager smile, he was so sweet and oblivious he didn't realize he was just egging on your fantasy of letting your trainer fuck you good into the gym floor mats.

"Y-yeah." you said as your brain got foggy. Yeosang stretched your legs even more, bringing your ankles to your ears as he leaned his body against you.

This is where your second problem came in, while he was pressing his body against you you started to feel something else press against your core. That's when you realized, Yeosang definitely free balls in his gym clothes because his dick was hard as a pipe pressing against your already needy pussy. Seems like someone else is also enjoying this session a bit too much, but you knew Yeosang would never make a move on you, he was too polite, so now you're stuck with his unhelpful banter and hard dick.

"You're doing such a good job, just a little longer Y/N and we'll be done."

You couldn't help the sounds falling from your mouth as he praised you, you couldn't take it anymore, this was the most torturous version of edging you could think of.

"Y-yeo please, please." you said in a hoarse voice, he tried to get closer which only brushed his length more into your walls.

"What was that? I can't hear you, speak up." he said, no fucking way he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Oh my fucking God Yeo please you're going to kill me."

"You can take it, I know you can." he said, oh yeah he knew exactly what he was doing, he just needed you to give him the green light at this point, he just wanted to hear you say you needed him so he could fuck you senseless right then and there. He pushed on your legs even more, his dick sandwiching between your soaking wet walls as it pressed against your needy clit, you yelled out even more moans, you couldn't hold them back anymore.

"Please just fuck me, please, I need it so bad, please oh my god!" You yelled out, you didn't even realize you said that, your mind was only on getting fucked by him and feeling every inch of his dick inside you.

Yeosang giggled teasingly at your request.

"I thought you would never ask." He sat back on his legs as your weak legs stayed in place, Yeo was a nice guy but he was rude as fuck when it came to sex. He gripped your leggings with both hands in the crotch part and ripped it open, exposing your wet sex. He rubbed his fingers over it as he stared at your kitty like it was the most beautiful sight. He placed his two fingers over your throbbing clit and rubbed circle 8's on it, your hips bucked upward because of the sensitivity, more moans and pleads fell from your lips.

"Do you need to be stretched here too gorgeous?" He said looking up at you with the face of an angel but the horniness of a grown man.

"Yes, please! Please put your dick in me." You continued to beg as your hips bucked and moved on their own, he decided to not make you wait anymore, he pulled his shorts down a bit and let out his angry red dick, he reached for his gym bag, and pulled out a condom.

"Please no Yeo, I want to feel you inside me, I'm on birth control."

Luckily one of the things that came with being your trainer was you being very open with him and telling him everything so he knew you recently were tested and could trust you.

"So needy for her trainers dick, how long have you wanted this love?"

He said as he gripped his dick and lined it up with your entrance.

"So long Yeo, so fucking long." You said as more whiny moans came out of you.

He brushed your wet pussy with his dick to cover it with your slick then pushed his hard tip in, he slowly sank his length into you as he held both your ankles in the air, his mouth was a gape while your eyes rolled to the back of your head, already feeling the rush of your orgasm approaching. He finally bottomed out in you, leaned down, pushing your legs back to your ears, and took no time as he started to drill into your leaky cunt. The macaroni noises your needy pussy was making mixed with your desperate moans was like a porno was being made. He was relentless with how his hips moved as he continued to drill into you.

"Your so wet, you like how my dick stretches your little pussy out? It's so tight I'm surprised I can fit in so easily."

His vulgar words only egged your orgasm on even more, your brain was empty, only hearing the slapping noises being made by the raw and unfiltered sex. You were babbling nonsense while he fucked you dumb. Tears started to fall from your eyes.

"Please Yeo I'm going to cum please fuck me more."

He had a cocky grin on his face watching you get fucked into a dumb drooling, crying mess, he thrust his dick hard and deep into you, you could feel him hitting deep inside.

"Your pussy is going to be nice and stretched out when I'm done, you'll only be able to fit my dick inside of it." His endless stamina from working out was showing because his hips never stopped driving into you. You felt your peak as you screamed his name, drool running down the side of your cheeks as your orgasm took over you, your whole body shook from how powerful it was. Yeosang continued to fuck you through your high, when you finished he pulled out and sat on his knees, he pumped himself a few times then hot ropes of cum shot onto your stomach, legs, and butt, getting all over your clothes, remember when I said he was rude as hell? Thank God these were your gym clothes and you changed here.

He looked at his watch as you were stuck there from getting absolutely drilled.

"Looks like our session is up. Can't wait to see you tomorrow." He said with his cute little smile.

[skzdarlings]

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part iv

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics are prevalent in this chapter, please proceed at own discretion.

chapter word count: 12000 words.

<3

-

Your body inevitably surrenders to its exhaustion.  You sleep through the sunrise and past noon, opening your eyes to a day gone by.  The deep gold of afternoon sunlight fills the room like a dreamy mist. 

The golden shade obscures all your worries.  You forget where you are.  You forget who you are.  You feel well-rested and well-loved, a warmth blossoming in your heart, reminiscent of a hopeful spring in this rotting hot summer. 

You are brought back to reality by voices outside your door.  You sit up in bed, straining to hear. 

“—had me ride ahead to see the queen was safe.”  That voice sounds like Changbin.  You have only heard him speak a few times but he has a recognizable pitch, not to mention his tone when he says, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Jisung replies.  He sounds tired.  You can only imagine what he looks like.  Did he sleep at all?     

There is a beat of silence.  Maybe Changbin is waiting for more, but Jisung is not forthcoming. 

“Did something happen?”  Changbin asks. 

“Huh?”  There is some clattering as Jisung moves.  “Yeah,” he snaps, in a tone more agitated than you have heard from him.  “Someone tried to kill the fucking queen.”

“Hey, watch your tone with me. I know that, but you—”

Changbin stops halfway through his sentence.  Jisung’s expression is evidently enough to quiet him. 

There is some more movement, the swish of fabric, then Changbin says, “Go change into clean robes.  Take a nap. I’ll guard the queen.  When you’re done, I’ll ride back to the others and report.  We should all arrive by nightfall—”

“I’ll ride back,” Jisung says, his voice and footsteps already sounding farther. 

“Hey!” Changbin hollers.  “You need to rest!”   

There is no reply.  You hear the creak of booted steps on the stairs, then Jisung is gone. 

“Be careful with my horse!”  Changbin shouts.  “Ahhh, if he leaves her in the woods…” 

Changbin keeps muttering even though Jisung is long gone.

You sink into the blankets. 

It does not matter how far he goes.  Not the shade or the sunlight or the mist can hide him.  Even when you close your eyes, he is there, looking back at you.  In a few short days, Han Jisung has inextricably twined himself around your heart.  You don’t love him yet, but you could.  You want to love him.  That warmth in your heart is him, a blossom unfolding in the spring of your new becoming, but it aches – not because a love is ending, but because it can never begin.

Jisung has saved you yet again.  He took care of you last night, disregarding himself as he has done before.  You want to chase after him, swear new vows to him alone.  You would give anything for him to experience the same devotion he has bestowed upon others.  You want to fly out of this bed and saddle a horse, chase after him, find him in the woods and –

And what?  That plan did not work last time. 

You linger in bed for a long time, awake but nonetheless dreaming, pondering: 

You.  Your duty, your family, your people.  The king.  The marriage, the cruelty, the wedding bed.   

Jisung.   His eyes, his voice, his everything. 

Hunger finally lures you out of the covers.  You dress yourself in the gown gifted by the innkeeper’s wife.  When your hair is pinned up as neatly as possible, you step into the corridor and greet Changbin.  You go downstairs and the innkeeper prepares you a meal.  You eat by the unlit fire, the same place you sat with Jisung last night, before –

Your whole body burns when you think about it.  Whether you are with the king or on your own, you doubt you will ever touch yourself without thinking of Jisung and last night. 

“Is the food all right, Your Majesty?” Changbin asks.  His nose crinkles as he looks down at the bowl, as if he expects to find the source of your misery there.  “It smells all right.” 

“Oh, yes, it is,” you say.  You suppose morosely poking at a bowl is bad manners. 

The inn is bustling with workers preparing for the royal arrival.  When you finish eating, you find the innkeeper’s wife and ask for something to do.  Though she says the queen should not lift a finger, you insist that you prefer to stay busy.  You tell her you have genuine technical skills and she relents, perhaps seeing the sincerity in your pleading.  You do not want to sit in silent thought right now. 

That is how you find yourself with the mending.  Changbin loiters nearby, not hiding his boredom very well.  He starts lifting random objects to exercise his already-ample muscles.  He tries to challenge himself but it loses novelty quickly as there is nothing especially heavy in the room. 

You ask if he wants to sew with you.  He gives you a wary look but takes a seat.  You show him some basic stitches.    

“Kingsguards don’t do their own mending, I suppose,” you say.

He furrows his brow with concentration.  He has thick fingers and struggles to thread the needle, but he cheers for himself like the winner of a game match when he succeeds. 

“Ah, no,” he eventually answers, stabbing the needle into a torn shirt.  “The squires take care of it.  I haven’t touched a needle since my training.” 

You chat about his time as squire for the kingsguard.  Unlike Jisung, Changbin comes from a noble family, though he is the youngest of ten.  Knowing he would never see a penny of inheritance nor an acre of land, he devoted himself to the gods.  He claims beyond prayer, his only real skill is crushing skulls.   

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you say, resuming your own mending now that he is easily sewing on his own.  “You’re quite the seamstress.”

He giggles.  That bubbly laughter in that bulky body makes you laugh too. 

“Well, it never hurts to have more skills,” you say.  “And I don’t think any work is beneath anyone.  If you don’t take care, you may forget just how much effort goes into menial tasks.”

“Hmm.”  Changbin looks thoughtful.  “Yes, that does happen.” 

The day passes with a few chores and some conversation.  The sun begins its descent sooner than later.  You are eating supper when the royal party arrives. 

You promptly lose your appetite.

You and Changbin wait in the front room while the party loudly organizes itself outside.  The contrast of quietude makes it feel like there is a bubble around the room – weak, vulnerable, about to burst.  

Changbin looks at you sideways.  He has spoken freely this afternoon and appears to debate whether he should question your wellbeing as a person or stay silent as a kingsguard.  He rocks on his feet, fist curled around his sword hilt.  His mouth opens with a question when the door swings open.     

Chan enters first.  He and Changbin exchange a nod, then Chan bows to greet you.  “Your Majesty,” he says. 

He moves aside swiftly.  The king enters right behind him.  Your knees knock but you conceal your fright, hoping your queasiness does not show on your face. 

“My queen,” the king says.  His tone is warmer than usual.  He has only ever addressed you with open contempt, but now he approaches you with his hand outstretched and a respectful dip of his head.  “The gods have surely blessed you to survive such a trying ordeal.” 

You flinch when he grabs your face, though he does not strike you.  That would have been less surprising than the kiss he places on the top of your head. 

He drops his hands and walks away without another word, leaving you standing there in shock. 

The other kingsguards follow.  Minho does not show much expression but Hyunjin rolls his eyes at the king’s display.  His aggravation seems as red hot as ever, barely concealed as he bows appropriately.  When he rises, he gives you a look, one you can only describe as a warning. 

Your shock settles.  Maybe it is not strange the king is acting nice.  He would not want anyone to suspect him of your assassination attempt.  Feigning affection for his wife would redirect the accusations. 

Hyunjin and Minho move along.  Seungmin and Jeongin bow next.   You wait but Jisung does not show, just an array of courtiers and servants that have been travelling in the retinue. 

“Wife,” the king says, though bellows and commands is more appropriate.  “Sit.  Eat.” 

You do not have an appetite.  You sit beside the king as he glowers and mutters complaints about everything and nothing. 

Part way through the meal, Jisung arrives.  He makes some excuse to Chan, something about minding his horse after its ordeal.   

You stare at Jisung across the room.  He shakes out his robes, brushing a few twigs of hay from the black cloth.  His dark hair is pushed back, his face open as he turns his face to the room.

He catches your eye before anyone and anything.   Your heart reacts with an eager leap. 

Last night was overwhelming.  You remember his desperation towards the end.  You can only imagine what was on his mind.  You have spent all day in turmoil, alternating between reassurance and berating yourself.  Perhaps he just needed to decompress, or perhaps he regretted ever telling you a word, that he would prefer to never look upon you again. 

He looks at you now and you realize that was nonsense.  It is the same roving, intense stare as last night, one that moves like a hungry touch.  You shiver even though the heated room is packed full.   

The king pays him no mind, engaged in conversation while he eats.  Jisung bows from across the room and it is only for you. 

He does not look at you after that, sitting with the other kingsguards while he eats his meal.  When it is over, the king asks for music so Jisung fetches his guitar.   His singing soothes your anxious spirit.  It is so calming after so much turmoil, your eyelids start to feel heavy. 

You fall asleep to his music.   You wake to a gentle touch on your shoulder, finding yourself slumped over the table, head on your folded arms, a very un-queenly pose.  You surface groggily, blinking slowly up at the guard who touched you. 

It is Minho.   The front room is empty except for the innkeeper, some servants, and two kingsguards chatting, evidently manning the front door.  The king is gone, perhaps already to bed.  You sigh with relief as hopefully that means he will not bother you. 

Minho has been assigned to guard you tonight.   He sweeps through your room, checking the windows and locks, but thankfully does not stay inside.  You prefer privacy, though you would not mind if it was Jisung, even if it is dangerous to think that way. 

Yes, very dangerous, as you close your eyes and imagine his dark eyes, watching you from across the room.  You kiss your fingertips and touch your neck, just like he showed you, feeling that tell-tale flush of warmth when you imagine his lips on your throat.  Your body feels tight, everything from your waist below clenching inside. 

Your hand slips under the covers.  You do not think of the king even once, all your thoughts rivetted to Han Jisung.  You follow the natural call of desire, going so far as to curl your fingers inside yourself.  You dare only a little touch but it still makes you gasp.  You bite your lip to stay quiet, even though you want to scream a certain name when you stroke the place he showed you and come apart with the same earth-shattering release.  You picture his face the entire time, specifically the dark and desperate way he looked at you when you put your fingers in your mouth.

You do it again, imagining those fingers are his, imagining kneeling in front of him like you desired last night.  You take your fingers to the knuckle and wonder what he would say, what he would do.  Just watching you made him blaspheme, the gods on his tongue as his whole body shook with a deep breath. 

You fear you may be an insatiable, lecherous creature on top of irredeemably sinful, as you lower your fingers and do it all over again. 

You whisper his name as you come over that crest of pleasure.  It sounds like a prayer in the quiet dark. 

-

A long day of travel looms ahead of you.  You do not want to give the king any excuse to berate you, so you rise early and dress quickly without assistance.  You intend to be the first downstairs. 

You open your door without warning, causing the guard to stumble backwards because he was leaning on it. 

The guard is no longer Minho. 

Jisung spills into your path, eyes flashing with surprise.  You are surprised too.  The guards must have traded posts overnight, allowing the first group to get some sleep.   

Of course, no one thought anything of assigning Jisung to your room.  No one would have reason to believe you would stand like this in the doorway, staring at each other so intently. 

You make no sound, just the gentle exchange of breath, but your heart races towards him in a noisy stampede.  Given how he leans towards you, as if enthralled in a spell, his own heart is doing the same. 

“Ah, uh, Your Majesty,” he finally says, sweeping into a bow. 

His dark hair falls over his face.  Unable to resist the soft allure of each dark wave, you touch the back of his bowed head.  It is a soft, quick caress of your fingertips. 

He makes a wounded sound.  When he stands, his face is flushed. 

“Are you, ah, ready for me to take you?” he asks.  His eye twitches.  He clutches the hilt of his sword very tightly.  “Downstairs,” he says quickly.  “Are you ready for me to take you downstairs?  Yes.  That.”      

You nod.  You have not spoken a word out loud, but you suspect your gaze gives you away, because Jisung looks into your eyes and makes that same sad whimper before darting down the corridor.

“Downstairs,” he says, a sing-song as he scuttles down the stairwell.  “Downstairs, downstairs, la la—”

The king arrives while you are having breakfast.  Before long, you are gathered outside the inn, preparing to travel.  There is a long stretch of countryside between this city and the capital.  The next few nights will be spent camping in the woods, then you will arrive at the capital city and stay at an inn, then finally traverse the great city to the palace. 

You are not sure what fate awaits you there.  It seems so impossible and far away, but the interim is only a handful of days. 

You stand on your own, watching the activity around you, anxiously twisting your fingers around the sleeve of your dress. 

In the midst of the hustle, your eyes find Jisung.  He is adjusting his saddlebags, surreptitiously glancing at you from a distance.  If anyone caught him looking at you now, you fear they would see far too much of everything.  Those eyes betray him every time.  Right now you see anxiety burning in them.  Perhaps he is picturing what you are picturing: that you will have to ride with him, your back pressed to his front, and you will not be able to think of anything except the other night. 

You make your way over to him.  He turns his attention to his saddle, securing and re-securing every strap, rein, and buckle.  He keeps his eyes occupied and his hands busy, even when you finally step into his periphery. 

“Jisung,” you say.  

“Hmm?” He tightens a strap he just loosened. 

“Is it all right if I ride with you?” you ask. 

“Of course!” he says, his voice bright and joyful, like a bard entertaining a crowd rather than a man in conversation. 

“I just thought I would ask, in case there was a problem,” you say.  You get more anxious the longer he does not look at you.   

“That’s nice,” he says, in that same boisterous tone.  “But why would there be a problem, ha-ha?” 

He steps away, circling the horse to adjust something on the other side.  You blink at the empty air then follow.  The horse dips its head you so you take a second to stroke its muzzle.  To anyone passing, you and Jisung look perfectly occupied and uninterested in each other.  Truly, you can feel the distance straining.  You step a little closer. 

“Can you look at me please?” you say softly. 

His frantic hands finally stop their fluttering.  He looks the other way.  It is towards the king’s carriage where the other kingsguards are organizing.    

In the blink of an eye, that cheerful bard disappears and a much more solemn character stands before you. 

“No, Your Majesty,” Jisung speaks in a low voice.  “Not when you’re this close to me.” 

It is good he has the sense to look around, because you forget about everyone but him.  You are rooted to the spot, unblinking and not breathing.  It comes in a shallow gasp at last. 

“Why not?”  you ask.  

His brow furrows with utter confusion, like he cannot fathom the question because the answer is so obvious. 

“You know why,” he says.    

You are not sure how religious you are anymore.  You have drowned in the silence of the gods.  When Jisung says those words, this quiet but honest acknowledgement that he is just as affected by this power between you, you feel a force of nature rise within you.  It is the closest sensation to the breath of the gods, the supposed life force they breathe into their chosen ones.  It moves through you like lightning.  You feel hot, dizzy, and not from the sun as it creeps towards its midday pinnacle. 

 You look at Jisung.  He looks at nothing. 

“Your Majesty,” Chan’s voice breaks the wall of intense silence. 

You and Jisung both whip towards him.  If Chan saw anything untoward in your nervous behaviour, he does not comment.  He strides to you with the confident steps of an authoritative man.  He dips smoothly into a bow.  When he rises, one hand rests in a fist above his heart.  The other sits on his sword hilt. 

“As I’m sure you know by now, yesterday was not just a robbery,” Chan says, getting to the crux without wasting a breath.  “Jisung is a very capable soldier but if there is another attempt on your life, the safest place will be with me.  If it’s all right with you, Your Majesty, I would personally escort you to the capital.”   

There is no reason to refute his request.  Perhaps it is better you do not even try.  With the intensity of the last few days, maybe it is better to let all these passions simmer.  When they have burned themselves to ash, it will be easier to sweep them away. 

“Of course,” you say.  “Thank you, kingsguard.” 

Chan guides you towards the front of the train.  You do not look at Jisung until you are perched on the horse.  You intend to merely glance over your shoulder, but he is staring intently and it locks your gaze on him.  Fortunately, before it lasts too long, Chan swings onto the horse and blocks your view. 

You let yourself settle near the kingsguard leader.  All the while, you feel a different pair of eyes on you.   

It feels like ages before you finally depart.  After some time on the road, the others begin their chatter and sing-song.   Jisung starts the singing, as is his wont.  You wonder if anyone else notices how he starts the songs but never finishes them.  As soon as the others begin their jovial singing, Jisung goes silent and remains quiet until prompted again. 

You do not have to turn around to know his expression is solemn between bouts of entertaining giddiness. 

Chan does not sing or chat much.  He has a clear respect and even affection for his men, but he puts his duty first. 

Chan is also better at keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies.  Perhaps that is because the king’s carriage is close enough that you can catch a glimpse inside.  Some of the king’s favourite courtiers ride with him, all of them adjusted to the uneven road as they play card games and drink while talking.  You are sure some of their gossip is about you given the side glances and whispers. 

You are not sure if Chan notices.  You get periodically tense and he is close to you, so maybe he can tell.   Perhaps that is why he lets his horse fall back just enough to lose view of the inside of the carriage. 

With the king’s judgemental eyes no longer snapping towards you, you can breathe easier.  You even dare start a conversation with the kingsguard leader, though it feels intimidating in its own right.  Riding with Chan is not like riding with Jisung, and a conversation with the devout leader is very different than giggling with the bard. 

“Why doesn’t the king want me to ride with Hyunjin?” you ask curiously.  “He seems like a competent soldier.”

“Ah.”  Chan laughs, a nervous little giggle.  “He is.  It’s, ah, not for any real reason.  Really.  Just that, well, Hyunjin is good-looking, I guess.” 

“But he’s a kingsguard,” you say. 

“Yes, he is,” Chan answers more seriously.  “Honestly, I know the guys joke about it but… Hyunjin is one of the most devoted soldiers I have ever known.  There’s a reason he’s in the order.  He can’t really helps what he looks like, but whatever you hear: it’s not true.  He’s good, Your Majesty.  They all are.” 

“I believe it,” you say.  “I’ve never known a more loyal group of men.  They live up to their reputation.”

“Yes, they do,” Chan says with obvious pride.

You were seeking the warmth that is now in his voice, the respect with which he clearly regards his men.  It makes the real question inside you burn.    

“May I ask something more serious?” you finally say. 

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Chan says. “You can ask me anything.” 

There is not a hint of insincerity there.  You truly do believe Chan wants to do the right thing, but you are still wary in conversation with him.  Chan is steadfast with his responsibilities.  To him, the right thing will always involve the king in some capacity, so you cannot be as free as you were with Jisung. 

“The matter does not necessarily concern me,” you explain. 

“Hm, you’re the queen,” he answers.  “If it’s about the kingdom, it’s to do with you.  Ask me.”

He lends himself easily to trust.  With his competency and sincerity, you see how he easily rose the ranks of the kingsguard.  Jisung mentioned Chan was one of the youngest squires in history, setting records for length of time spent in training.  Those years of study and prayer make him incomparable.   He is the best and worst person to ask this question. 

“The guard who ran off,” you say, “and the king’s former mistress… What will become of them?”

The king has not forgiven nor forgotten the treachery.  It contributes to his constant stream of anger.  You cannot imagine anyone, even this spoiled fool, possessing the energy to rant and rave so incessantly, but his passions will not be tempered.  He has mused aloud all his gory desires, threats you know he will manifest if given the opportunity. 

It makes you sick to your stomach.  The details of the king’s fury are nauseating, not to mention your personal connection to the couple.  You saw them with your own eyes.  You saw their hope and their desire as they risked everything for freedom. 

You know that Han Jisung was involved.

All those gory images dance across your mind like tableaus from some horrible play, too gargantuan and horrifying to be real life.

“Ah,” Chan says.  Though he encouraged your question, he does sound a little hesitant now.  “I understand.  That was a… bad introduction to the kingsguard, I guess, wasn’t it?” he says.  “We couldn’t spare the resources to search for them, not without delaying our return.  The king wants to launch a kingdom-wide search once we are settled in the capital.”

“You’ll be the one in charge?”

“Well, I’m issuing it to Changbin and probably Minho, because I’ll have to attend to my usual duties.  But I’ll oversee it.  Why?”   

“How much will a search like that will cost?” you ask. 

The question surprises Chan.  Perhaps he did not expect such a pragmatic question, but there is an emotional underbelly to your query.  That is your family’s money the king will use to satisfy his own petty grievances, rather than putting it towards the kingdom he is sworn to protect. 

“It won’t be nothing,” Chan finally admits. 

“What purpose will finding them serve?” you ask. 

You want to turn around and shout it: that the king is pursuing them to soothe his own damaged ego and not because they are any threat to the wellbeing of the kingdom.  Surely, a man as capable and intelligent as Chan must know that.

You wonder how it must feel for this dedicated guard to be sworn to this type of king.  He deserves better.  Everyone does.       

Chan bristles, hearing the unspoken accusation in your question.  You feel his upright posture straighten even more.

“They broke the law,” he answers, his voice steadier than his body.  “He broke his vows.  She broke her promises.  There are consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask.  “Or punishments?” 

“Your Majesty,” he says, as sternly as he can without being rude.  You suspect if you were a foot soldier, you would have been told to shut up.   “The kingsguard is pure.  When we give up our earthly goods, that doesn’t just mean literally, it means emotionally.  We trade our present life for eternity.  Everything we do, we do in service of the gods who provide for us.  Then and only then can the kingdom thrive.  A slight against the king is a slight against the gods.  Corruption can’t be allowed to spread.” 

“Corruption,” you say softly.  “You truly believe in the king’s purity?” 

When he does not answer right away, you look at him.  He looks at the carriage.  His brow is furrowed, his jaw set, looking very austere and cold.  He softens his expression when you meet eyes. 

“I think you’re a good kingsguard and a good leader, Bang Chan,” you say.  “Your men are good and they put their faith in you as much as the gods.  Whatever you believe, I will believe too.” 

You know Chan will not speak ill of the gods-chosen king.  You also know he will not commit a sin like lying.  So when you ask if he believes in the king’s purity, you are not surprised there is no answer.  He simply sighs as he turns his gaze ahead. 

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” he says.

It is all the answer you need. 

-

Your journey follows a river that flows to the sea, now behind you.  The course ahead lays inland.  Rest comes a few hours into travelling.  It is at a clearing not far from the river.  You can only just hear as it rushes and pours in a steady stream that leads far away from here.  

Everyone mills about, stretching their legs or sitting in the shade, while some prepare food and share drinks.   The king is with his courtiers, Chan close to him as usual.   You sit near the remaining kingsguards, close enough to be guarded but not so close to make them uncomfortable.  You know they will not speak freely in the queen’s presence so you grant them privacy.    

It means they are distracted just enough, blind to the way you and Jisung lock eyes across the breadth of woodland space.  After your conversation with Chan about the potential fate of the runaway lovers, you have fought to restrain all those deep, complicated desires.  You are less committed to true obedience, resigned to your own tragedy if the king moves against you, but you cannot be so careless with Jisung’s fate. 

It should be easy.  You hardly know the man.  But those dark eyes find you and see you, always right down to the core of you, and it is so difficult to wrench your gaze away.  

Jisung turns first.  He mutters something to Minho who is sitting beside him.  Whatever he says makes Minho freeze, a drink halfway to his lips.  His eyes dart over to you.   

Your back straightens, goosebumps rising, wondering what Jisung just told him.  Whatever it is, Minho makes the same report to Seungmin who also looks your way. 

Startled with all the attention, you resume focus on your idle task.  You dug some embroidery tools out of your trunk, so you sit on a stump threading patterns with no particular end design in mind.  It is just way to look and feel busy.  Your loneliness is less acute when occupied with a familiar task. 

You are disrupted by the crunching of the dirt path under booted steps.  You lift your head, gaze travelling long dark robes until you meet Seungmin’s eyes.  Seungmin is not exactly the friendliest, but there is an honest simplicity to him.  He does what he must, when he must, and he does it well, with no subterfuge or obfuscation of true intent.  So he must mean it very sincerely when he tips his head towards the circle of guards, clearly inviting you to join them.

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “The kingsguard would be honoured by your company.” 

“Oh,” you say, surprised.

Seungmin does not leave time for argument, taking your embroidery out of your hands and offering his arm.  You accept it blindly, ushered along before you can think twice.  You are soon seated, this time a part of the kingsguard circle.  You take a seat between Seungmin and Hyunjin. 

Seungmin returns your tools once you are settled, skirts neatly arranged around you.  The boys continue their conversation while you work, a tenderness and warmth in your heart that was not there before. 

“I can do that too,” Changbin says, pointing to your embroidery.  It makes Hyunjin spray his drink everywhere, the others similarly laughing.  “I can!”  Changbin protests.  “Tell them,” he says to you.  “Tell them how good I am.” 

“Tell them, Your Majesty,” Jeongin reminds him, nudging him with an elbow.   

“You don’t have to call me that,” Changbin jokes, ruffling the youngest’s hair. 

“Yes,” you say.  You laugh at their antics, but lay a hand on your heart and declare with teasing solemnity, “It’s true.  Kingsguard Changbin is quite a natural with a needle, I must swear it so.” 

Seungmin whistles, the others still chuckling.  

“I believe it then,” Hyunjin says, a twinkle in his eye.  “If the queen swears it, it must be true.”  There is a hint of seriousness to the proclamation, a knowing glance cast aside.  “It’s easier being a queensguard when the queen is true.” 

Though it is not unusual to refer to the kingsguards as queensguards in relative context, it is rarely done, and certainly no one has said it yet.  You suspect this king would not be so partial to acknowledgement of shared power.  Any reminder of your own latent holiness just angers him. 

Not to mention, while Hyunjin does not mention the king directly, the proclamation it is easier to guard a true monarch nonetheless carries a hint of accusation. 

You say nothing to refute nor encourage the claim, anticipating someone else may correct or shush him. 

Instead, Minho tips his cup in your direction. 

“Mm, hear to that,” he says casually, before taking a sip. 

“To the queen,” Jisung says, lifting his own cup too. 

Your gaze flies to him.  He smiles from across the circle, his arm outstretched and his cup tilted towards you.   Strange to say you have missed that sincere smile after so short a time, but you have, and it moves you more than the toast.  It reminds you of the first time you saw him, the first time he saw you in turn, when he stood above a crowd and sang to you across hundreds of people. 

The other guards follow his prompt.  They lift their cups and take a drink, leaving you more than a little flustered. 

“You’re the queen,” Seungmin says with that wide, cheeky smile, lightly nudging you with his elbow.  “You’ll have to get used to this.”   

You find it unlikely anyone but the kingsguard will ever toast to you, but you smile and express your gratitude.

Conversation has scarcely resumed when Chan comes stomping over.  His agitation ripples like rings in a disturbed pool of water, spreading to his men who are follow his flow.  They all sit straighter, looking at him for orders. 

Chan, clearly frustrated, just huffs and takes a seat. 

“Jeongin,” he says.  “Go stand guard over the king.”  He unwraps some food and takes a bite, shaking his head all the while. His irritation clearly gets the better of him because he mutters through his teeth, plenty loud enough for the others to hear, “I can’t listen to more complaining.”

“Is he mad about the weather again?”  Changbin asks with a laugh. 

“He’s the chosen one,” Minho says with a sly grin.  “Why doesn’t he just make it less hot?”

Chan clears his throat loudly, though he doesn’t berate them beyond that. 

“Jeongin,” he says, making a vague gesticulation in the direction of the king.

“Why do I have to go?” Jeongin asks, wearing a petulant pout that only the youngest could get away with.  You suspect anyone else would have received a lecture, but Chan just gives him a look, eyebrow quirked, and Jeongin complies with a tired sigh. 

“That’s what you get for eating so fast,” Seungmin says, earning himself a smack up the head as Jeongin passes him. 

“He’s right,” Minho says.  “You eat like a horse.” 

“Whoa, hey, man!” Jisung says.  “Don’t insult our horses like that.” 

There is some more laughter.  Jeongin shakes his head but his deep dimples show his amusement.  You giggle too, though it is probably inappropriate to jeer and chortle with a group of guards, hiding it behind your palm.  It is just too funny.  You watched moments ago as Jeongin shoved a truly impressive amount of food in his mouth, all but unhinging his jaw as he crammed it in like it was going to be taken away.  The jokes are mostly to that effect as the youngest ambles over to the king for guard duty.   

The conversations splinter after that, everyone more or less talking in pairs.  You just listen while working on your embroidery.  When Seungmin leaves to relieve himself, it opens an empty space between you and Chan.  The others are engrossed in their conversations – and playful but rowdy debates – while Chan just smiles and listens.  He occupies his hands with sharping the point of a dagger. 

You shuffle closer to him.  The motion catches his eye and he looks at you.  Though your conversations on horseback were polite after the initial topic, he still looks wary, perhaps now recognizing the look in your eye.   

“May I ask a question?” you ask. 

“You know you can,” he says, though he looks even more concerned. 

“It’s about the kingsguard vows,” you say.  “I know you said it prevents corruption – but how?  But why?”

“Why those vows?” Chan asks. 

He picks up the sheath for his dagger, eyes there as he slides it back in place.  The other guards notice his contemplative attitude, eyes flicking towards him then towards you.  Their conversations trail off when Chan begins to speak. 

“The kingsguard is an old service,” Chan says.  “Almost as old as the kingdom itself.  The gods chose favourites even before the palace had walls, and those favourites become kings, yes?  But with palaces, and money, and power… comes corruption.  There was a king who lost his way.  He stopped listening to the gods.  Sin and lust and anger: he let it conquer him.  The kingsguard was formed to save him from himself and, when that couldn’t happen, to save the kingdom.  The first kingsguard order burned all their clothes, put on the black cloth, and vowed to never be swayed by any temptation or sin.  It is not an order you can just join.  It is not a vow you just make.  The king, your brotherhood, and all the kingdom rely on your sword.  The corrupt king was executed by the kingsguard so the gods could choose another.  Since then, there has been no need for intervention.  It has been a perfect harmony for centuries.  So we maintain the vows of those first kingsguards and so the kingdom stays in harmony and order.”

“So it is of utmost importance both the king and the kingsguard keep their vows,” you say. 

There is a beat of silence, like Chan knows you are going to say something that will make his forehead throb, but he relents and says, “…yes.” 

Rather than torment him with more implications the king is not pure, you ask, “What makes a sin?” 

His shoulders fall with a sigh of relief, though it doesn’t last.  His eyes dart over the other guards, aware they are waiting for an answer too. 

He slowly turns to you and says, “Anything that distracts from the gods.” 

“I see,” you say.  You can feel the kingsguards looking at you, their attention moving between you and Chan as if watching the volley of an intense game match.  It makes your skin prickle, sweat on your nape as you swallow your nerves.  “Such as lust and anger, as you said?” 

Their eyes flick to Chan. 

“Yes,” Chan says.

Their eyes flick back to you. 

“Yet I fear I feel the gods most strongly in the throes of such things,” you say.  “The gods created all those feelings. I have spent much of my life suppressing the call of great emotion.  Perhaps it is not a coincidence that since being chosen by the gods, I have felt their designs all the more powerfully.”

Their eyes practically bulge out of their heads.  Chan just stares at you, barely even blinking. 

“Perhaps the king does too,” you say, your voice light, like this is a simple remark.  You draw your needle through the fabric, watching the colourful thread as you draw it heavenward.  “Perhaps that is why his relentless wrath is considered a permissible action.”

Hyunjin makes a sound, a short, sharp cackle, throwing a hand over his mouth before it can grow.  The others wear long faces, not daring to remark.  Jisung is wide-eyed.  When you glance at him, he tips his head, at once curious and concerned. 

You tear your eyes away from him.  You smile at Chan. 

“Ah,” Chan says.  “Well.”   

“I think it might be the same for other so-called sins,” you say.  “Lust for example.  I think… I think it’s a lot like prayer.”

“I’m sorry.”  Chan shakes his head rapidly back-and-forth.  His eyes close in a painful wince.  “Like.. like prayer?”  He looks at you like you just smacked him.  He probably would have preferred it.  A kingsguard can take a hit, but you are not sure they are built to withstand the queen speaking like this.   

“Yes,” you say, smiling.  You look down at your embroidery, threading a little flower.  “I think intimate intercourse is like praying.  It is the highest expression of gratitude and love, showing appreciation for the life the gods have given you, and the appreciation of the life they have created in another.  I think this can be turned into a sin, of course.  When it is stolen, when it is forced, when it is coerced, when it is taken without care or consideration for the other…  Yes, I believe this great gift can be corrupted.  But I believe it can be the holiest of all earthly actions.  I dare say there is no way to be closer to the gods.” 

There is a long gap of silence.  Hyunjin still has a hand over his mouth, like he doesn’t trust himself otherwise, and Jisung is still wide-eyed – and more than a little flushed.  Tufts of dark hair are flicked up at the nape of his neck, a scarlet tinge to his complexion.   

Minho and Changbin eventually say, “Wow.” 

“Um.”  Chan clears his throat. 

“I know,” you say, smiling at him.  “We should talk about something else.” 

You focus on your embroidery, humming to yourself. 

Seungmin returns and sits down in the silence.  He looks around the quiet circle and lifts an eyebrow. 

“What did I miss?” he asks. 

-

Rest comes to an end.  There is a bustle as everyone packs up and prepares to continue the journey.  You will travel a few more hours, at which point the sun will begin its descent.  You should reach the predetermined site to build camp before nightfall. 

You wait near Chan’s horse, stroking its muzzle, lost in thought.  You imagine what would have happened if you died yesterday.  Would the king have the audacity to celebrate, even in the face of his solemn guards?  His success might have emboldened him, made him feel justified, like the gods were on his side.  You like to think his failure has tempered him, that he will take it as a sign of the gods’ disapproval, but you doubt it. 

You spot Changbin in the middle of the crowd.  He is helping the servants with some heavy lifting, packing cooking instruments back on the wagon.  Chan looks like he will be another minute.  While he is distracted, you wander over to Changbin. 

Changbin puts the last piece of equipment on the wagon.  A servant bows and thanks him profusely.  Changbin grins and lifts the servant out of his bow.  He winks, saying, “Ah, no work is beneath anyone!  You don’t need to thank me.”

You smile as Changbin gives the flustered servant a friendly pat on the back.  Of course, Changbin is quite strong, and the willowy servant stumbles, but it is still a sweet moment.  Once confirming the servant is all right, Changbin approaches you and bows. 

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “Can I help you?” 

Changbin is in a good mood.  The kingsguards did not seem angry with your earlier words, just surprised, even amused.  You think they just like to see their incorruptible leader so flustered. 

“Not so much,” you say.  “I just have something on my mind.  Chan told me the king intends to launch a search for the missing guard and mistress.  He said the primary duties may be relegated to you.” 

“Ah.”  Changbin’s eyes darken with the furrow of his brow.  His grin disappears and he looks very morose.  “Yes.  Most likely.  Do you have something to report?” 

Flashes of that night play in your mind.  You shiver as you suppress them. 

“No,” you say.  “I just – I have a great deal of respect for the kingsguard.  This is a difficult situation for you all, I am sure.  I just wished to make my allegiance to you known.  In the event of any… complications.”

“Complications,” Changbin repeats. 

“Yes.”  You weigh your words very carefully.  You can either win Changbin’s confidence or push him further away.  “Like Chan said, the vows are so important, and your brotherhood relies so strongly on each other.  I’m sure Felix meant a great deal to you, at a time.  This must be very difficult.” 

“Yes.”  Changbin’s brow unfurrows, his face softening in a moment of obvious reminiscence.  He seems to stare right past you, lost in some faraway thought.  He sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, smooth strands falling back over his forehead.  “Felix was a good man,” Changbin says.  “You… remind me of him, a little.  The things you say.  Ahhh, this is all wrong.”  He shakes his head, his expression pinched with frustration.  “It shouldn’t be like this.  I don’t like the idea of going after him.”

You restrain yourself, not leaping too eagerly at the brazen remark.  With the well of emotion rising in your chest, you ask, “Then why do it?”   

“Because those are my orders,” he says, like it is obvious.  

“What if those orders are wrong?” you say. 

“They’re the king’s orders,” Changbin says, not quite an argument, not quite an agreement. 

“Yes,” you say.  “And the king is heaven’s earthly sovereign, who rules us all by the will of the gods.  But what if those orders are not actually coming from the gods?”

The king is close to you.  Changbin sees him first, but too late to spare you. 

The king shouts your name like it is a blasphemous slur.  The scream is imbued with so much fury, it sounds as though he means an exorcise a demon right here, right now. 

Although you told yourself you were resigned to his wickedness, the terror of that voice makes your whole body shake.  Bravery is much easier in theory, a whispered voice in the back of your head that extends no further than stolen words in shadows, but it is different to stare down a hateful man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

You turn to face the king, grateful for the length of your skirt as it hides your trembling legs.  You summon your many years of etiquette practice, feigning the most stoic countenance you possibly can. 

The king gets right in your face, screaming so loudly it blows a loose curl out of its pin. 

“You have the audacity to blaspheme against your king?”

A deathly hush has fallen over the forest, all conversations ended.  You hear nothing but the shuffle of bodies as people either retreat or approach the action.  Servants make themselves scarce, courtiers gathering with eager eyes.  The kingsguards swarm, abandoning their horses and forming rank with a hand on their swords.  You are not sure who they mean to protect.

Chan is the only one to directly intervene, shoving through the throng to reach the king. 

“Whoa, whoa, Your Majesty,” he says, skidding to a halt, his black robes swishing around him.  “What happened?” 

“This blasphemous creature dared to question the will of gods before my people,” the king snaps. 

“I did not,” you say, wrenching your voice from the nauseas pit of your gut.  “I did not question the gods.” 

“You have the nerve to call my authority into question?” the king asks, taking another menacing step forward. 

You instinctively stumble back.  Your gaze darts when you move, eyes finding the other kingsguards.  Minho, Changbin, and the younger two watch the scene intently, hands on their sword hilts.  Hyunjin has partially withdrawn his sword, hilt firmly in hand and a shiny length of silver catching the sunlight. 

Jisung has one hand on his hilt but his grip is loose.  He is the only one moving, taking tentative steps towards the scene.  His wide eyes are concerned but not frightened, his shoulders tensed, entire body braced.  A fist uncurls, hand lifting.  You are not sure if he is reaching for you or warning you. 

The king is still ranting.  All he does is repeat the same accusation, hurl the same slander.  There is a wretched delight to his snarling ire.  Because of the assassination debacle, he has been forced to feign a modicum for respect for you.  Your remark serves as justification for unleashing all that contempt once more.  

He calls you every foul name a man can call a woman.  No doubt you are also subject to his anger for the mistress.  It makes your hands curl up in fists at your side.   Your trembling body is building adrenaline with every quivering shake.  You think of the mistress, of Felix, of Jisung, of a cluster of crying servants, of your own body slumped in a carriage with an arrow in your heart, when all you ever wanted to do was help your people. 

“I would never speak ill of the gods,” you snap.  Perhaps it is your shaking or perhaps it is heavenly intervention, but you feel your voice as it thunders out of you.  It reverberates in the arching trees and quakes underfoot like an earthen tremor.  “Even in moments of my greatest doubt, I use them as my example in how to conduct myself.”  You speak loud but steady, looking the king in his startled eyes. “I would never speak against them.  I would never act against them.  I would never assume I have the perspective to rebel against their will.  No matter how someone might offend me, I would not attempt to intervene on the god’s will by bringing harm anywhere near to them.”     

Ostensibly, this is in retaliation to his comments – but everyone knows the attack yesterday was not just a robbery.  No one is speaking the accusation aloud, but it sits on the tip of every tongue when the subject is broached.   Yes, everyone here knows what the king has done, and when you make your declaration, it is all anyone hears. 

Only one of you has kept your vows.  Only one of you is righteous. 

He backhands you, clean across the face.  It lands even harder than on the wedding night.  That slap burned like a hot iron welt, but this one drums like a storm.  It knocks you to the ground, the earth rushing up so quickly that you cannot even catch yourself.  Your cheek hits the dirt, your body crumpling on impact. 

Your face is downturned but you hear the zinging slash of sword after sword as the kingsguards reveal their weapons.  When you look up, you see every blade partially drawn.  Hyunjin is the only one to fully draw his weapon, his sharp, intense face focussed on the king while the other guards look at Chan.

Jisung is the only one who looks at you.  He does not draw his sword.  His hand leaves his hilt and he runs straight towards you.  He slams onto his knees with so much impact, it sends leaves and gravel flying.  His hands are on you, shameless and without delay. 

“Your Majesty,” he says.  He holds your shoulders, guides you upright into a sitting position. 

You can barely see him through your tears, watering from the sheer physicality of such brutal pain.  You face is numb so you do not even realize Jisung is wiping it clean. 

His efforts accomplish very little because the king kicks you over, a sharp jab in your side that makes you cry out.  It is more unexpected than the smack and makes everyone gasp.

Jisung catches you, drawing you protectively into the cradle of his arms.  You imagine his face, his wide, startled eyes turned up to the king in questioning terror as he clutches the queen to his chest.  You fear he will be kicked for insubordination.  You press against his chest and will the world to disappear to around him. 

“Are you seriously going to allow this?”  Hyunjin’s voice rips through the clearing. 

You turn your face, cheek pressed to Jisung’s chest.  Hyunjin has stepped forward but he does not address the king, anger bright red on his handsome face as he stares at Chan. 

Chan looks at him but it is the king who answers, spinning on his heel to march up to Hyunjin.

Bellowing, the king begins, “The kingsguard does not allow or disallow me anything—”

“The kingsguard has a right to intervention in the face of injustice!” Hyunjin shouts back, driving his sword into the dirt a mere foot from the king. 

It draws the man to a halt, a flicker of intimidation crossing his face as he looks at the guard.  He quickly shakes it off, pointing a threatening hand at Hyunjin. 

“What do you dare accuse me of?” the king demands.  “Do you have the audacity to make so formal a claim against me?  Tell me, kingsguard!  Use your rights!  Make your claim!  And I shall make mine, rest assured!” 

Hyunjin cannot say anything more.  He stares at the king, fuming.   Chan was not exaggerating when he spoke of Hyunjin’s devotion to his beliefs.  More than a pretty face, indeed.  He does not budge an inch for the tyrant king. 

While the king is distracted, Jisung helps you up.  You rise on shaking legs, using his arms for leverage.  He murmurs your name, not your title, so soft an utterance that no one else hears.  It affects you more deeply than the king’s shouting. 

Your watery eyes lift to Jisung.  You are clasping his forearms for support but you want to fall against him.  Your heart and body both call to him.  You are overwhelmed with the memory of being in his arms at your most vulnerable moment, bare and open and overcome.  It makes you feel like if he is close, there is no height you cannot reach, no harm that can ever pursue you there.       

With your eyes locked so reverently on Jisung, you do not see the king approach.  You turn your face as he throws Hyunjin an arrogant, challenging look.

Then the king reels back and punches you. It is clumsy and too emotional, his anger getting the better of him, so it lands with less force than intended.  You still feel it right down to your toes, a shock of awful pain.  You are not sure what actually hurts, if he hits your nose or something else, but you taste blood, tangy and metallic on your lips and tongue.  Jisung catches you when you fall, keeping you upright while you spit blood onto the forest floor.   If anyone gasps, you cannot hear it over the ringing in your ears. 

Hyunjin instantly explodes.  He attacks the king with his bare hands, his swing far cleaner, a swift punch that strikes the royal face so hard, it makes a cracking sound.  Hyunjin is lean but evidently strong because the king reels upon impact. 

Hyunjin does not let him recuperate.  He lands another blow, then one more, coming at a different angle each time.  The king hits the ground on the third punch, landing with a humiliating scream and thud. 

Everyone is chattering and shrieking now, even the most eager courtiers retreating from the violence.  Minho and Seungmin spring into action, charging Hyunjin before he can chase the king to the ground. 

“Hold him back!” Chan shouts at them.  Like everyone else, pure shock delayed him. 

Minho and Seungmin seize Hyunjin by the arms, hauling him away from the king while he froths with anger.  The king recoils from him, then starts to rage because he has been humiliated.  Hyunjin shouts back, so much piercing chaos that you hardly make sense of it.

“This ends now!” Chan shouts above it all.  He does not need to draw his sword or swing his fist.  Hyunjin finally goes silent, shrugging Minho and Seungmin away.  Even the king ceases his hollering, spitting blood onto the ground. 

Your own mouth is still streaked red.  Chan looks at you, his hard expression softening. 

“Your Majesty, are you okay?” he asks. 

The king begins to answer, a furious exclamation that he is obviously not okay, then he realizes Chan is speaking to you. 

“How dare you address that creature—” the king begins. 

“That creature is the gods-chosen queen!” Chan shouts.  Where Hyunjin and the king raged with a red hot fire, Chan is cold, the harsh narrowing of his eyes speaking for him.  It cuts across the clearing.  Everything, high and mighty or low to earth, seems to bend in acquiescence.  “The queen is not to be struck under any circumstances,” Chan says sharply, a hand on his sword hilt, his eyes on the king.  “I am making a formal accusation against you as I just witnessed the offense with my own eyes.” 

The silence is more deafening than the chaos.  You watch as Chan shakes his head.  His booted steps roll like thunder on the dirt as he approaches you.  His arm is outstretched, a word on his lips, but he interrupted by the king.

“I want him flogged.” 

Chan freezes.  His back is to the king and all the courtiers, guards, and servants.  Only you and Jisung see the flash of fury, barely tempered as Chan clenches his jaw then draws a breath. 

“The gods spoke to him,” Chan says, frighteningly calm.  “They told him to defend the queen who should never have been struck so carelessly.”

“And for that I won’t have his head removed,” the king snaps.  He spits blood on the ground again, looking at Hyunjin as he does.  Hyunjin stares back but has the sense to not act again.  The king lacks any and all sense.  No sense of duty, no sense of responsibility.  He points at Hyunjin like an infant points at a child, stamping his foot and crying to his parents of some petty, childish plight.  “Twenty lashes,” the king demands.  “Ten for each time beyond this so-called defense he dared laid his hand against the holy king.”   

Chan turns.  He looks at Hyunjin.  Hyunjin stares back, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between them.  You see the calculation, the surrender.  Chan shakes his head and Hyunjin clenches his jaw. 

Your hand twitches at your side, instinctively searching for Jisung.  He finds it, clasps it, hiding your joined hands between his robes and your dress. 

“Jisung,” you whisper. 

“It’s all right,” Jisung whispers back.  Despite his words, he sounds upset.  “Hyunjin can take it.” 

In proof, Hyunjin does not await further instruction.  He rips at his outer robe, tearing it off his body and dropping it in a heap on the forest floor. 

“Jeongin,” Chan says.  “Get me a horsewhip.”

You jolt.  Jisung squeezes your hand, holding you back, shushing you gently.  You watch, heart in your throat, as Hyunjin tugs off his under-shirt.   He drops to his knees where he stands, Minho and Seungmin backing away, their faces plastered with practiced stoic looks.  Seungmin betrays only a hint of thought, shaking his head an infinitesimal degree as he backs away.  Minho flashes Jisung a look of similar aggravation. 

You still taste blood, even when you wipe your mouth with a shaking hand. 

Hyunjin prostrates himself on the ground, a full bow as if at prayer.  Chan has the whip in his hands and he snaps it open at his side.  You do not know if your eyes water from pain or sorrow. 

The king stands nearby, arms crossed, a smug look on his face.  You look at him as Chan swings an expert arm and brings the whip down.  The king does not flinch, his pompous self-satisfaction only deepening.   

You jump at the crack of the whip, eyes racing back to Hyunjin.  There is a welt across his skin, pale as it is never exposed beneath those layers of black.  Despite all the jests made at his expense, Hyunjin does not remove those robes for anything.  He keeps his vows with an unrelenting determination.  He is a good kingsguard.  It is not his fault he has a bad king. 

“Stop,” you say.

Jisung tries to hold you back but you drop his hand.  You are still dizzy and speaking with a mouth full of blood, but you march onward.  The king is probably looking at you with all that heated aggravation but you do not care.  You look at Chan, the only authority you respect. 

“Hyunjin was defending me,” you say.  “He acted on my behalf.  I will take his punishment.” 

There are immediate protests, not just from the kingsguards but from servants and even scandalized courtiers.  Their vocal protestations make chaotic discord, the forest shaking with every shout and holler. 

You hear Jisung above the rest. 

“Chan!” he says.  “Don’t you let her, Chan!  Chan!”

You and Chan are the only ones who remain silent, staring each other down.  You are perfectly calm, holding his gaze.  He looks at you like he is reading a book in a language he did not even know existed, scrutinizing the shape and sound of everything that lies in front of him. 

“Silence!” the king finally shouts, curtailing the worst of the chaos.  He marches over to you, hand out like he intends to grab you.  “Stand down, woman!  You’ve caused enough problems today!” 

You storm towards him too, wiping the blood off your face with such a flourish that it flicks towards him.  He takes a step back, so surprised by your approach that he almost trips over his own feet. 

“Am I not correct in saying that a citizen has the right to stand in for another when a punishment has been issued?” you ask. 

“You are not a citizen, you fool, you are the queen,” the king snaps. 

“Oh, so now there’s some fucking rules about propriety!” you snap back.  “Punching me in the face did not account for it, but this does?  I am curious where your lines are drawn, Your Majesty, and which gods drew them, as they certainly do not resemble any teachings I know.” 

The look on the king’s face is more satisfying than any welt or punch. 

“Enough,” Chan says, not raising his voice.  He drops the horsewhip to the ground and Hyunjin lifts his head.  “This has gone on long enough,” Chan says firmly.  “We have a long journey to make today.  This was a petty disagreement and a misunderstanding, and it is an insult to the gods and all of us present to draw it out any longer.  Hyunjin, get up.  You’ll spend the night in prayer asking the gods for forgiveness for any slights they perceived.  Accept their revelation and be done with this.  Everyone, back in formation.  Now.”    

Finally, the crowd disperses, speaking lowly amongst themselves as they return to their former tasks. 

Chan faces the king.  In the same tone, he demands, “You too, Your Majesty.” 

The king boils with such a quiet, fiery rage that you are amazed he does not burst.  Chan does not relent in the face of his threats, standing firm until the king storms away.   Once he is gone, your own adrenaline cools.  Your legs feel weak again.   You stumble.

Jisung catches you.  His arm swings wide, catching your waist and drawing you into him. 

“She’s still bleeding,” Jisung says. 

“Take her,” Chan says, nodding sharply.  “Get cleaned up.  Meet back at the horses soon.  He’s not going to be in the mood to wait.”  Chan rolls his eyes and turns away. 

You and Jisung are the only ones left.  You are standing too close to him, his familiar heartbeat pounding against yours, and you need to rip away but you want to be even closer. 

Jisung takes a step, guiding you towards the sound of the river.  When you try to separate further, he pulls you back into his side, that hidden strength revealing itself.  Your feet only skirt the ground as he practically carries you the riverside, like if he lets go for a second the gods will sweep you away from him. 

Jisung holds the briars as you cross through dense brush.  The riverbank is on the other side.  You step onto the gravel bed, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel separated from the world again at last.   

Jisung touches your lower back, just a press of his fingertips to get your attention.  It certainly works, sparks shooting up your spine as if he traced the length of it.  But no, it stays there, palm on your lower back, nudging you towards the water. 

Earlier, he could not bring himself to look at you.  Now you are the one hiding your gaze.  After a tumultuous day of warring with yourself, of provocations and retreats, accusations and regrets, you feel tired and unsure, hurt and embarrassed. 

“What were you thinking?” Jisung asks. 

You kneel at the same time, at the river’s edge, the cool fresh water lapping at the edge of his robe and your skirt.  It is paid no heed.  You gather water in the cup of your hands, bringing it to your face in a gentle splash.  You close your eyes, relishing in the cool kiss of the stream.  The water runs pink as it spills over your lips.  You scrub your mouth on the sleeve of your dress. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?” you ask.  “It doesn’t matter if I follow every rule he makes or if I break them in front of him.  He is going to hurt me.  He is going to find ways to justify it.” 

Jisung is still bad at hiding his emotions, looking at you with sad, shiny eyes, his face long with sorrow. 

You spare him a momentary glance, too affected by his empathy.  It would be easier if he did not care.  It would be easier if he did not look at you.  It would be easier if he did not gather every undone curl to pull them back over your shoulder. 

It makes you shiver like the first time.  That chill is swallowed by heat as you remember him looking at you through that mirror, drawing your hair off your shoulders, firelight warm against your naked skin as he choked on his breathing. 

Even now, his hand lingers on the back of your neck, on your shoulder, your arm.  Every touch is just a second too long.  He looks at his hand like it belongs to someone else, curling his fingers towards his palm like they hurt. 

“Your Majesty,” he says, not much louder than a whisper. 

“You can use my name,” you say, just as quiet. 

The roar of the river makes you bold.  You are alone but even if you were interrupted, you could never be overheard.  It makes everything feel so natural, so right, like the gods themselves have aligned the world in such a way that you would be here with him at this exact moment.   Yet at the same time, that is impossible.  The gods chose you for the king.  It was you who chose Jisung. 

“I know,” he says.  With a laugh, airy and humourless, he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Believe me, I know.” 

You finally look at him.  His eyes are drawn to your mouth, but that is because you missed some blood.  You fold your hands neatly in your lap, the very picture of lady-like perfection if not for your bloodied lips and the aching swell of your cheek. 

Jisung cups water into his own palm.  With one hand, he holds your face, thumb and forefinger curled around your chin to tilt your head.  He brings the water to your lips, pours as neatly as he can. 

“You’re incredible,” he whispers.  “I mean, you’re crazy— Fuck, I shouldn’t say that to the queen – Fuck, I swore again – don’t listen to me – Your Majesty, with all due respect, you’re just—”  He laughs, truly and deeply, wiping blood off your cheek while you stifle your own giggles. 

The ordeal is still too fresh to truly have any perspective, but you suspect you will be reeling later tonight as you remember your own adrenaline-fueled actions.  

“Don’t tell anyone I told you that,” he teases. 

“Our secret,” you say, smiling. 

His eyes are on your cheek, his thumb scrubbing a mark.  When you say that, his gaze flicks to yours. 

Your whole body reacts to his eyes.  You feel – tight, clenching, stomach twisting with heat.  There is at once an impossible emptiness at the centre of your being, and also a penetrating fulfillment as he looks at you so intensely that you feel it deep inside of you.  You think the king could come to your chamber every night, could do whatever he would, and it would not feel half so thorough a claiming as one glance from Han Jisung. 

“I, um, oh.  Oh.”  Jisung shakes his head.  He looks down, hair falling into his eyes as he swoops over to cup some more water.  He still holds your chin with his other hand, fingers loosely clasped. 

He straightens, tossing his hair out of his eyes, focussed on your lips. 

You know it is just because he is cleaning the residual blood, but his searching glance moves through you.  It deepens when he wets your lips, as he lets that little bit of water pour off his skin and onto your mouth. 

Your lips part, trusting.  His fingers on your chin tremble just a bit.  When he exhales, it flutters through a loose curl. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, lips moving against his fingers. 

“Your Majesty,” he says, trying to be jovial, trying to laugh, but it comes out like a croak.  “It’s why I’m here,” he says in a voice that sounds as rough as it did the other night.  “I’m supposed to serve you.  And – And I—”

His thumb runs slowly across your bottom lip, his eyes entranced with the way it gives under his touch, where it softly springs back.   Your breath spills over his fingers and he swallows. 

“And,” he tries again, breathing deeply when you do.

“And?” you say on that breath.

His gaze moves from your lips to your eyes.  He drops one hand as if startled, fumbling for nothing, accidentally finding yours in its descent.  You clasp that hand in your lap, heart racing as he so tightly curls his fingers around yours.  It is such a desperate clutch, but it does not hurt.  No, it never hurts. 

“And,” he says, those other fingers still curled under your chin.  It would make any defense impossible, his fingers so obviously  guiding your face closer to his own.  His mouth is a breath away, every exhale soft against your lips.  “And I want to serve you, my queen,” he says in a soft, low murmur.  “I need to serve you.”

You make a noise that could be mistaken for pain, wounded and sharp, but it is not that.  It is the sound you make when you draw your kiss-wet fingers down your own throat, the way his damp fingers now trace that same descent.  You tilt your head, offering him all that vulnerable skin, shivering under the long, slow touch. 

He recognizes that sound too.  He heard you make it two nights ago.  You remember him kneeling, just like this, looking at you, just like this.  You remember him, slouched in that chair by the fire while you dreamed of nothing more than kneeling in front of him.  What would you even do from that vantage?  You do not know.  You just know it beckons to you like a call from above. 

“Oh,” you say, trembling for a very different reason than earlier.  “Jisung,” you whisper, “I want to serve you too.” 

It is that remark that petrifies him, his hand freezing, his eyes wide.  He stares at your neck like it is more dangerous like a sword-hand.  A million complicated thoughts seem to flash across his face, one after the other. 

His fingers splay open across your throat, your pulse beating under his hand.  You swallow. 

“What are you doing to me?” he breathes. 

Then his fingers are under your chin again.  Your faces come close.  His lips are touching yours but it is not a kiss, just the promise of one, so painfully close to kissing that your mouths brush with the slightest twitch or breath.  Still, he does not close the space entirely.  He leans into it like he will, but then he collapses with a pained whimper, abruptly letting go, turning his face to the side. 

“Fuck,” he says.  He puts a hand over his face and shakes his head. 

You turn your face the other way, closing your eyes too, breathing hard.  You also touch your face, fingers shaking as you touch your unkissed lips, still tingling from the proximity. 

Your other hand is in your lap.  It is still tightly clasped around his. 

“Oh gods,” he says. 

“Yes,” you say.  “I feel them too whenever you’re near.” 

You look at each other.  His mouth opens, some sentiment on his lips, desperate to be uttered, but he only manages to move his lips a few times before surrendering to muteness.  He stands.  With a gentle tug, he brings you with him. 

The river laps at your feet.  There is a swirl of pink where your blood spilled.  You look at it for a long moment. 

“In the banquet hall,” you say, watching the pink wash away.  “In the wedding ceremony.  On the road.  In that inn.”  You lift your eyes to his.  “I felt it everywhere,” you say.  “The gods, or just you, all around me, like nothing I have ever felt before.” 

You lift his hands, bringing them to your lips as he did last night.  He just stands there, mouth open, watching as you kiss his knuckles with the same devoted press.  Where he was all desperate teeth and lips, you are tender, a soft wet kiss that lingers on his knuckles, scraped and scarred from so much work.   

“These hands are a testament to years of hard work, kingsguard,” you say.  You give his hands one final squeeze before letting go.  “They should be worshipped too.”

He makes a sound you can only describe as a comical squeak.  Your sweet, complicated, funny guard.  Big eyes blink at you as you step back. 

“Shall we?” you say, nodding to the brush, to the world that waits on the other side. 

He nods, still too stunned to speak, staring at you as if in a trance.  You bow your head to him, clasping your hands politely in front of you.  You turn to leave.

You have only taken one step when you feel his hand on the back of your neck.  It sends a bolt of fire shooting down your whole body.  Your heart, moments ago doused with cold water, comes roaring back to life, shooting heat to every extremity. 

You remember the strength of his arms.  Yes, you will never forget.  He wraps one arm in a possessive grip around your waist, just like before, but more.  The other hand stays on the back of your neck, buried in your half-pinned hair, leaving it even more dishevelled. 

The state of your hair is a perfect visual metaphor for what you feel inside: unravelled, undone. 

He pulls you right into him.  His name has scarcely left your lips before he swallows the sound, mouth pressed to yours in a hot, hungry kiss.  His lips, his tongue, his teeth, all of it there, soft and hard and needy.   

A kiss is the most you ever dared to steal over the years, silly childish exchanges that amounted to nothing.  

But this –

This is everything.    

“Jisung,” you say, like begging, almost a cry against his mouth before he steals the sound again. 

You are both clumsy from lack of practice, or maybe lack of time.  You are desperate to feel everything in the few moments afforded to you.  There are lifetimes of desire packed into that kiss, eternities surrendered to the passionate press of his lips on yours. 

He breathes your name, cups your jaw, tilts your face just so, kissing you slowly despite the ticking clock.  You shiver, humming a sweet, amorous sound against his lips.  The taste of blood is long gone, replaced with him.  Just Jisung, on your lips and your tongue.  You want it everywhere else. 

You would give yourself to him if he asked.  You would forget about everything and do it right here on this riverbank. 

Fortunately, he has more sense than that.  He lets you go, takes a small step back.  He breathes unevenly while raking his fingers through his hair.

“We can’t do that again, okay?” he says.

You blink at him.  It must be a convincing argument because he groans, then grabs you by the hips and pulls you towards him.  He kisses you again, mouth open against yours, coaxing all those tender sounds you did not know you could make.  It feels wet and messy and it should be awful, this frantic animal hunger, but it just feels good. 

You just – feel.  

“Okay,” he gasps.  He clutches your waist, holds your body in his hands and counts under his breath.  Finally, he steps back, nudging you away from him.  “Okay,” he says, wiping his mouth and shaking his head.  “That’s fine.  That was – that was just.  Exactly, you’re so right.  Yes.  All right.  Very fine.  Very good.”

He clears his throat, adjusting his black robes neatly like he did not just ravage your mouth in his holy garments.  He tips his head back and stares up at the sky, holding the briars back for you, pointedly not looking down even when you approach. 

You could walk right past him.  You should walk right past. 

You lean towards him and whisper, “I thought of you again last night.” 

You step through the brush.  You listen as he somehow accidentally slams them all in his own face, sputtering as he fights through the greenery to join you.  He shakes himself out like nothing happened. 

“Right,” he says.  “Right.  Right.  Right.  Go.”  He points ahead. 

You walk a few paces ahead.  He escorts you back to Chan.  When you are perched on the horse, you look back over your shoulder, once more intending just a fleeting glance.  Jisung is already looking at you, fingertips pressed to his bottom lip.  He lowers his hand.

You smile softly.  Like something heaven-sent, he smiles back. 

[babeydollx]

If you are the author of the JJ Maybank “Safe with You” I have to say I’ve been reading fanfics for like 10+ years and that was the best EVER!!!!!! I was so heartbroken when I couldn’t find the link to it 😭😭😭 PLEASE bring it back to life! 🫶🏻🙏🏻

Safe With You | JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: Cursing, smut, angst, soft!sex, unprotected sex, soft!JJ, abuse, violence, has a fluffy ending, 18+ MDNI.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Kook Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which JJ helps his girlfriend get away from his father when she goes over to his home to see him.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: ahhh, tysm for the sweet comments! I'm so sorry about the link thing, my links have been broken recently because of a recent username change but I am working on fixing them all. In the meantime, here's the fic, I decided to repost it <3

I arrived at JJ's house to see him. JJ and I rarely got time to see eachother since we were on different sides of the island. My parents always had me busy with some shit all the time. It was exhausting and annoying.

I never had time for JJ anymore and I hated it. So, I decided that I would surprise him at his house to see him. I missed him so much and I knew that he missed me too. I couldn't wait to see JJ again and be in his arms.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. I waited for a minute or two but there was no answer. I could hear movement inside of the house so I knew that someone had to be home. You decided to try and open the door.

When I turned the door knob the door easily opened. I slowly walked inside and looked around. The house was messy and I could smell beer and weed. As I looked around, I jumped when I herd glass shatter. 

What the hell was going on? Was JJ okay? Was someone trying to hurt him? Millions of questions and thoughts flooded my head as I looked for JJ. The sounds were coming from the backyard. I dashed out to the backyard to see JJ on the ground with an older man on top of him and punching him.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Please!" I screamed as I ran over to the two men in the backyard. I couldn't pull the older man of of JJ so I grabbed a empty beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it over his head.

Luke stopped punching JJ and got dizzy before collapsing on the ground. JJ sat up on the ground and looked over at me in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" JJ asked.

"I- I came to see you.." I said.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here?" He asked.

"You did but, it had been so long since I saw you so I thought I could surprise you. I didn't expect for any of this to happen. Who is he? Why was he hurting you?" You asked.

"He's, uhm... he's my dad." JJ mumbled. 

"He's your father?!" I asked in shock. JJ nodded. "Why would he hurt you?!" I yelled.

"I don't know. Cause he is constantly drunk and high I guess." He shrugged. "I'm use to it by now, he's been doing it for years." JJ said. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. This was absolutely heartbreaking. How could a parent do this to their child?

Before I could say anything else to JJ, someone tackled me to the ground harshly. I screamed when it happened. 

"GET OFF OF HER!" JJ yelled. Luke was on top of me. I tried to fight Luke off but he began to hit me hard. I screamed and cried more as he continued to hit me. I could hear JJ yelling and trying to pull his father off of me.

Finally, JJ had got Luke off of me and began to beat the shit out of Luke. I scrambled to my feet and watched the scene go down. I could feel tears streaming down my face still and I was in pain. After a few minutes of JJ beating Luke up, he finally got off of him and ran over to me.

He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. I finally felt safe. I knew that even if Luke woke up again that JJ would keep me safe, he would make sure that Luke wouldn't hurt me again or worse. 

"Are you okay, Y/N?!" JJ asked worried as he checked me for any terrible injuries. 

"I'm okay." I said with a sniffle and nodded. 

"I am so sorry that this happened to you. You shouldn't have had to see any of this." JJ said with a frown as he hugged me again. 

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this for years.." I said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me this was happening to you?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. This isn't your burden to bare, Y/N.." He said. 

"JJ.. we're a team. You can tell me anything and everything, okay? Whatever you are dealing with, I want to be there for you to help you." I said. JJ nodded slowly. "Anyways, did you want to stay the night at my place tonight? My parents are out of town so we have the house to ourselves." I said with a smile.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Anytime." I said as JJ and I get ready to go to my house. 

We arrived at my house and went inside together. I got both of us a water bottle and then we both went upstairs to my bedroom. I gave him his water bottle and sat down on the bed beside him and we talked for a while. After we both chatted for a bit, we both went silent not knowing what to do next.

"So, what now?" I asked looking over at JJ. He sat there thinking for a moment before looking back over at me. A smirk spread across his face.

"I have a few ideas." He said with a smirk. Before I could ask him any questions he kissed me passionately. I kissed back, melting into the kiss. The was he kissed me was magical. He always knew how to make me feel a certain way without even trying. 

As we made out, he gently pushed me down onto my back onto the bed. I ran my hands through his soft, blond hair as the two of us made out. Once we got both of our clothes off and out of the way, JJ was positioning himself between my legs.

I held onto his shoulders tightly and sucked in a breath as JJ slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped and moaned out softly. He groaned quietly as he bottomed out. He then began to thrust into me.

I gently threw my head back and groaned out. I held onto him tightly as he fucked into me, slowly picking up the pace. He continued to slowly pick up the pace until he was fucking me at an ungodly pace.

I moaned out even louder than I did before. I arched my back off of the bed and moaned out, almost screaming at this point. I could feel that familiar knot bubbling in the bottom of my stomach and I knew that I was going to cum any second now. I then clenched around JJ, signaling to him that I was going to cum. 

"Fuck, you gonna cum, princess?" He asked as he groaned out.

"Yes, fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" I yelled. 

"Come on, cum for me." JJ said. With that my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake as I came hard on JJ's hard cock. He thrusted into me a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of me.

JJ pulled out of me and I laid their trying to catch my breath. He laid down beside me and he was also trying to catch his breath. After we both took some time to come down from that, JJ smiled and gently pulled me over and snuggled me.

I giggled when he did so. I always loved to be in JJ's arms. He always made me feel so safe. We both laid there together and talked for awhile while we were tangled in each other's arms. After we both talked and snuggled, we both fell asleep together.

I woke up the next morning to see that JJ was no longer in bed with me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around my bedroom. No sign of JJ. As I was about to go look around the house for JJ, I saw a note on my bedside table.

I took the note off of the table and unfolded it before reading it. 

Thanks for letting me stay the night at your house, Y/N. Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness all of that yesterday and go through that. I promise I will come back later, I just have a few things to sort out with my dad. I love you, Y/N.

- JJ

I smiled at the note that JJ left me. I thought it was so sweet that he had decided to write me a note. I missed JJ so much already but, I couldn't wait to see JJ again.

Author's Note: tysm for reading, lovies!

[curseddollfaye]

What ab toji with flexible reader 🤭

“i gotta lot of new tricks for ya, baby just saying I’m flexible…..”

⋆｡°✩ NSFW . 18 +

⋆｡°✩ let me know what you think 🫶🏽 😉 thank you so much for the request xx

- would be such a bastard about it

-“heh, think you could lift this leg more or does daddy have to do it for ya?” As he has you pressed down on your mattress, you’re folded in half damn near and all you can do is scoff

- “are you gonna keep talking or do I have to take care of myself- ahhh!” hes quick to shut you up as the tip of his girthy cock bullies your poor cunt.

- Of course he’s always trying to experiment with you, one time he had you bent over in front of him with your hand wrapped around your ankles as he took you from behind.

- your incessant whining only turning him on more as thick calloused hands gripped your waist. slamming you back on his thick length. Your ass bouncing and recoiling with every thrust. His eyes never left down to where you both were connected. A shiver up his spine when he felt your walls clench around him as he slowed down. “fuck…” he was about to bust all up inside of you if you keep throwing it back like you were.

- his all time favorite had to be whenever you rode him cowgirl. You do your usual tricks, ride him in reverse for a while. Hell you even start hitting the splits on it for real.

- but damn did it drive him CRAZY when you leaned all the way back exposing your entire chest to him and your gorgeous neck. His hand would immediately find its way to your exposed neck. His thumb applying just the right amount of pleasure.

- “dirty slut, you like it when I choke you? Answer me” he pulls you closer, his gaze is mean but you pout and nod. Pretty eyes batting at him how could he stay mad at you?

- “yes…“ you locked eyes with him and his first mistake was loosening his grip on you. Because as soon as he was caught off guard your lips slowly wrapped around his thumb.

- oh yeah hes fucked right off the bat.

- toji couldn’t even deny it when he said he was impressed

- the first time he met you you were doing all types of freak shit on top of him. Not to mention how you never complained when he bent you up like a pretzel

- because when you told him “you can press my leg down harder if you want it won’t hurt” you meant that shit and he never wanted to leave the heaven that was your pussy.

- he was pretty sure he was in love with you within the first three weeks of knowing you but of course he would never tell you that

- you already knew whenever he almost let out that he loved you when you had let him full Nelson you into the mattress after a nice dinner out, not to mention you had let him hit it raw

- you swore he almost passed out

- not to mention how much more fun a sex swing was . He was truly living his best life, and you were more than willing to indulge him. You’ve never had a ex fuck you so good

- well one, some white haired douche named gojo you dated in college

- he put it down on you too, but his big dick didn’t make up for his big hesd

-toji was a much more gentler lover if that was even hard to believe , he always checked up on you and made sure you were ok

- “are the ropes too right baby? “ you watched him step back stratching the back of his head. Poor thing was so excited to open the new package that arrived in a nice big Amazon prime box. Way too excited that he inhaled his dinner and was all too willing to dry dishes to get you upstairs and naked.

-“yes toji it feels fine baby, will you relax?”

- “are you sure, you’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable right?”

- “duh, I’m not going to say yes if I didn’t feel safe” you feel a cool gust of air as the ac kicks on and your nipples harden.

- your man takes notice and a grin twitches on his lips.

- “Aww I see, my baby is ready for me huh?”

- “always ready for you “ you but your lip and spread your legs a little wider for him. “Do anything for you”

-“ yeah?” He steps close to you, your breath hitched as he towers over you while you lean back on the ropes. Sturdy enough to hold you up Toji made sure of it. His frame blocks the little soft illuminated light.

- god you loved his tall he was

- “yeah…”

- a few minutes later you found yourself being swung back and fourth on his cock. Toji grounding his heels against the carpeted bedroom floor. His rough palms holding onto the rope tightly as he moves you on his cock. As if your some sex doll for his pleasure. Your toes are curling and you can see how lost he is inside your pussy. His jaw is clenched and he looks like a mad man possessed.”

- your shoulder start to ache a little bit due to how your hands are blind behind you. But the pleasure outweighs that entirely.

-“mmmmm! M’gonna come, fuck!” you whine, tossing your head back. His heavy balls slapping against your skin. You feel the band in your stomach snap and your let out another loud moan of his name before your knees are shivering.

- he follows soon after with a loud groan. His hips stutter and he grabs into your tits for some type of stability. heavy thick cum coat your walls and as he rides out both your orgasms it spills out.

- toji was never letting you go

[normal-internet-user]

Hii! How are you?

I was hoping you could do a one shot or hcs for a platonic/sibling PJO thing with Percy. I was thinking this kid shows up at camp-half-blood (their age being like 11-13) and being like a carbon copy of Percy and everyone notices except for him. They become pretty close and during a capture the flag game the Reader gets claimed by Poseidon, and Percy is just in shock like: 😲 holy moly

I think it would be really cute and I love big bro Percy

The reader is gender neutral

This is completely /nf and feel free to delete it if you don't want to! Thank you so much! Remember to drink water and take care of yourself!

-Axel <3

Ahhh this is actually such a cute IDEA-

Percy With a Child Of Poseidon Reader...

When you showed up to camp, no one really thought much of it.

The Titan war was over, demi-gods were showing up left and right, getting claimed along the way.

The thing that was weird was your lack of the latter.

Weeks after you arrived you were still unclaimed, with no change in sight.

It frustrated Percy because the gods had literally JUST promised not to leave any kids unclaimed.

As a result, he decided to spend time with you, just because he noticed you were feeling slightly put out at your lack of a godly parent.

Percy seemed to be the only one who hadn't noticed that the two of you next to each other was like looking back and forth between a mirror of features.

Everyone else did though.

Annabeth really did try to just- nudge him in the direction that MAYBE POSSIBLY-

But no, Percy was as oblivious as a blind cat after you moved the furniture.

Honestly he liked hanging out with you.

It made him feel good to know he was keeping you occupied instead of thinking about not being claimed.

He felt like an older brother ironically enough.

He had you sit with him during meals, and during activities he was with the Hermes cabin most of the time to help you.

Your very first capture the flag was exciting for him,

Him helping you put on your armor before plopping am oversized helmet on your head was like a mother watching their watching their child ride a bike for the first time.

He was so proud!

Sure you tripped over yourself and fell on your face, but that's okay! Everyone stumbles sometimes!

You're doing great!

Honestly, it was his fault for not helping you tie your shoes.

It was safe to say, the two of you had sufficiently bonded.

Which must have been the reason Poseidon decided to claim you now of all times.

He must really like capture the flag if that's how he claimed both his kids.

Percy was floored, and incredibly confused.

Everyone else was more or less like, "yeah saw that one coming." and you were trying to look up at the floating trident over your head through your helmet.

Percy feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

Confusion, excitment, slight frustration- but mostly excitement.

He was confused as to how as a child of Poseidon you'd managed to stay alive this long.

Unless your mortal parent had also kept a Gabe around to hide your demigod smell.

The thought made him wince.

He was practically vibrating when he showed you around Cabin 3.

You'd seen it before, sure, but now it was your cabin as much as his.

He wouldn't be sleeping alone anymore and he was exstatic about it.

And he can't wait to introduce you to Tyson too.

And his mom, oh she's gonna love you.

Especially if your mortal parent isn't in the picture either by choice or tradgedy.

Percy was gonna be the best big brother ever, it was his job to protect you now, so he would.

Ta-da! This is legit, the first thing I have posted in FOREVER holy shit, it felt SO good to write this out, like-

Anyway, all done! Here you go, I wanted to keep going but I figured it was long enough lol

[haechwrites]

undercut - L.MK

idol!mark lee x reader

wc: ~1.2k

warnings: nothin. kisses. fluff.

A/N: MARK UNDERCUT!!!!!!!!!! I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM also ive been extra delulu don't mind me.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Can I come over? I’ll ask hyung to drop me off at yours.” I could hear the cars passing by him, louder than I expected the city streets to be at 3 am.

“You don’t have a schedule for tomorrow?” I ask, barely holding the phone between my head and shoulder. For some reason, I thought it’d be a good idea to paint my nails at this hour. 

“Also blue or red?” I cut him off before he can answer my previous question. I clink the nail polish bottles in my hands.

“Blue. And nooo, it’s my off day…” And then he’s quiet, I can hear his nerves through the phone.

“You want me to say ‘yes,’ don’t you?” I smirk, hoping he can feel my teasing nature from his end. 

He groans, annoyed that I’m making it difficult for him and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling. He’s such a baby.

“Of course I want my girlfriend to say ‘yes’ to me asking to come over. Are you insane?” I listen to him huff and I can sense the text I’m about to get from Renjun, telling me to get Mark to quit whining.

“So dramatic,” I snicker. I start to pack up the nail polish, already knowing he’ll be here in five minutes regardless of my answer. “You’re on your way, right?”

I’m met with silence and I hesitate putting my clear coat back in the cabinet.

“I’m outside.”

“Of course you are. No respect for my decisions I see.” In contrast to my words, my heart is actually racing. I almost slide across the floor at how fast I run to the buzzer.

“Just open the door,” Mark whines some more and I can hear the buzz from the other side. I hang up the phone and open the door, ready to see his face.

It’s been a week since I’ve last seen him, if you’re not counting the facetime calls at random hours – he’s lucky my job isn’t strict on my phone use. I never know how much I miss Mark Lee until he’s busy with his hectic schedules. It took me awhile to accept and appreciate the nature of our relationship. Mark thanks me whenever he can for putting up with his lifestyle. What he doesn’t know is that I love him so much that I can easily make his lifestyle mine. Even if that means seeing him randomly at 3 am on a Wednesday.

I poke my head out and I see a figure stalk down the hallway, a hoodie hiding his head. 

“Psst,” I whisper and his head lifts to find my voice. He speedwalks over and I tug him in, carefully closing my front door.

“You know I know where you live right? Like I won’t get lost,” Mark laughs, leaving no time to pull me in for a hug. I feel my muscles relax into his and I don’t realize how much I needed it. His time. His space. Him. 

The more I soften in his embrace, the tighter his arms squeeze. “You’re precious cargo. Gotta make sure my man arrives safely.”

“Your man?” Mark leans back to show me how happy my word choice made him. Even on his tired face, his smile shines brightly. No eye bags can hide the gleam of his brown eyes.

I roll my eyes and slap his chest. “You heard me, weirdo. Stop acting like it’s new news.”

“Ahhh,” He lifts my feet off the ground to nuzzle into me some more. “I can’t help that it sounds so good.”

“You know what else sounds good?” I ask when he puts me down. “A movie sesh.”

I split from his embrace, scurrying to the kitchen to hide the new dust of pink on my cheeks. The effect he has on me never wears off, even after all this time. It’s almost embarrassing.

“Ah, my girl’s a genius,” I hear his feet chase after me to hug me from behind as I grab a pack of popcorn from the cabinets. I can feel his soft breathing on my shoulder and it feels unreal that he’s physically here. I can actually feel his chest rise and fall against my back. I’ve gotten so used to listening to him fall asleep on the phone.

“Your girl?” I mock.

“Shut up.” Mark mutters into my shoulder. I reach back to stroke his hair when I’m met with the fabric of his jacket.

“Why do you still have your hoodie up?” I twist around in his arms to face him and his head swiftly repositions to fall into my chest. I try to push his head back up, but he’s stubborn.

“What are you hiding, Mark Lee?” I flick his head and he exclaims.

“Ow! Why are you so violent?” He finally looks up and I flip his hoodie back before he could protest again.

It’s gone. His hair.

“Your hair.” 

Mark looks down at me shyly, biting his lip. I watch him run his hand through his undercut, focusing on the fact that it’s so short his black strands don’t file through his fingers anymore. Or that his ends don’t slightly curl around the nape of his neck. He even has etchings shaved into the sides. I can’t remember if I already knew about this and saw it over facetime or if it’s a new change to his appearance. Maybe it’s been longer than a week since I saw him last. The shock on my face is evident.

He squeezes my hip to bring me back. “You like it?” So it is new.

Mark grabs one of my hands and guides it through his haircut. It almost hurts with how prickly it is, but it’s fun. It’s new. And the way he sighs into my hands makes my chest tighten. 

“It’s… it’s kinda hot.” I take both of my hands and run them through, not really missing how easy his hair was to tug before. It’s a new look and I can tell he’s confident in it. I wonder if I could get him to shave my initials next time. 

“Yeah?” Mark stands up straighter, a fiery look in his eyes as he watches me admire his cut. My fingertips dance across the hair. I barely miss the way his tongue swipes across his lips.

“Yeah, I love it.” I can’t contain my smile, and he chuckles at my reaction. He tugs my waist in closer before planting a long kiss on my cheek. “I can see your pretty face so much better.”

He groans, letting his head fall into the side of my neck, nipping at my skin instinctively. I snicker at his reaction, letting my fingers massage his scalp.

“You’re killing me,” he says, almost like a whisper. I pull his face in front of me, watching the shy pout form on his lips. I give him a peck and watch him chase my mouth for more.

“Ditto.” I admit, caving into his cry for more kisses.

[babybatss-blog]

COMING HOME (18+)

Botw!Link x f!reader, 1200 words

Authors note: first try at smut AHHH be nice be nice :)

Summary: your boyfriends been away on a work trip for a while now, so you’ve a little bit needy as of late. 

Cw: nudity, kissing, marking, hand jobs (both female and male receiving), p in v, ejaculation and cunnilingus

You used to hate life in Hateno. Repetitive, boring, safe. When you met Link, things finally changed and that sense of adventure you’ve been craving was gifted to you. But now he’s gone on another work trip with Zelda (something about sheep going missing in Rito) and that same lacklustre energy has returned once more. For the three weeks that he’s been gone your days consist of multiple walks to the beach, reading some books Link gifted you before he left and cleaning the same spotless kitchen over and over again, and you’ve almost lost your mind. All you want is his touch, his voice and care, warming your body on cold days and bringing intrigue to this quaint little town.

The days dragged on, until it’s FINALLY the day he comes home, and you couldn’t wait to see him once more. Unlike every morning the past couple of weeks, this morning you jump out of bed and skip down the stairs. You dust and mop the house to ensure it is perfect, then go into town for some shopping. Picking out the finest fresh ingredients for dinner, you ensure everything will be perfect for your special night.

Finally, the day has come for Link to return to you. He gets on his horse – a beautiful brown stallion with a flowing mane and strong canter, riding quickly off to you. He cannot wait to see you, no matter if you just want to relax or have some fun, seeing your beautiful face is all he wants to do. Arriving at the village many a neighbour wave enthusiastically at him, clearly wanting to stop and ask about what mission he was up to. But he merely waved and kept on going, not having the time nor energy to keep up some dull conversation. Going up to the house, the excitement within builds just by looking at the stone cottage and blue flowers coming into the view.

Jumping off his horse and going to the front door, Link fixes his hair and the crinkles on his clothes. He wants to be perfect for you, and if he knew how you looked right now he’d think twice about turning up in his dirty old adventurers gear. Knocking on the door he hears shuffling, then your sweet voice calling “coming!”

When the door opens only your face peaks out, eyes lighting up when you see him. “Link!” You open the door, revealing yourself in a see-through robe, leaving nothing to the imagination. A blush quickly coats Links cheeks, moving fast inside to conceal you from the outside world. Giggling, you submit to him pushing you inside, knowing exactly what effect you have on him. He chuckles too, almost (but not exactly) shocked by your actions. “I can’t believe you” he says, enveloping you in a warm hug as his hands caress your back. “I missed you” you mumble into his shoulder. “You too” he lovingly returns. “But now…” Link lifts you up and grabs your ass with a firm hand and walks you up the stairs.

Despite your protests about dinner being on the table, he continues, plopping you down on the bed with grace. He has always been such a patient man with you, sitting silently for your rants or staying up all night during your painful period cramps but when he sees something he wants, all of that changes. Unbuckling his armour holds, his eyes rake over you with excitement, probably already imaging how your pretty little voice will sound one he gets his hands on you. You don’t waste a second either, unravelling that silk robe to leave your skin cold to the air surrounding you. Without a word, Link pulls his shirt off and falls on top of you, kissing your neck with a fervour you haven’t seen in quite some time.

You groan, just this simple touch filling your core with a wet and warm sensation you’ve truly missed having around. Your hand unbuckles his belt with a practiced ease, plunging your hand into his pants to feel his throbbing member. Link groans into your skin but does not stop his mission of marking your body, now moving down to leave red splotches on your collarbone. As kind as he is, the man is possessive, and has been dreaming about this moment for many a night.

“I need you” You moan, discarding your prior plan to act uninterested and sultry. Who has time for that anyways? Submitting to your request Link swiftly drops his pants, rubbing your clit as you gasp. You do the same, pumping his dick that has already been coated in precum. The two of you lie in this harmony for a while, enjoying the sound of each other’s pleasure until one of you craves more contact, which today appears to be Link. He takes his hand out of your folds and places it into his mouth, signalling to you he is done with not being inside of you. So, you lift your hand too and grip the sheets, preparing for what is going to be a good night.

Sure enough, Links member soon enters your walls, warm and safe like so many times before. He pumps into you, strands of blonde hair falling out of his ponytail as he grunts with passion, and you moan with euphoria. Your eyes appreciate the sweat that has started to gleam on his chest, which is strong and battle wounded from nights away. As the bed rocks you place a shaking hand onto his right pec, and he smirks. He knows exactly what he does to you. “Baby… so good…” you slur, head falling back in a weak display of enjoyment. “I love you” he says, worshipping the way your body shakes under his touch. That familiar towering high overcoming his sweating body, so he pulls out, despite the fact he would rather stay within your walls forever. He pumps himself with a weak hand, only a couple of times as to finish off what you started and his sperm gushes out onto the bed sheets underneath your legs.

He knows his lady though, soon plunging his skilled tongue into your folds. You can no longer exact courtesy on whoever may be nearby, arching your back like some sort of gymnast and screaming in that tone Link knows all too well. “Yes. Keep on going” Your hand slides into his hair, pushing him further into your heat, and completely shaking now. From this moment on, things become blurry. Your vision is weak, your words gone and your hearing muffled, all concealed under this overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

You go completely weak and Link climbs back onto the bed with you, now lying to the side of you and wrapping and arm around your waist. You both sit silently for a good while, soaking in the reality that you are reunited and letting the food get cold on the dining table. This is a moment you wouldn’t trade for the world.

[the-daiz]

Arachnophobia | One Punch Man

Synopsis; How One Punch Men would react to you calling them to get rid of a spider in your house.

Characters; Saitama, Genos, Zombieman, speed-o’-sound sonic, Flashy flash, Child emperor(platonic)

Genre; Crack, fluff

A/N: I was just daydreaming abt zombieman cuz I love him so much and thought of this scenario so why not have it with the rest of these guys (and boy)

this can be viewed both platonically and romantically, except child emperor, he’s purely platonic ofc

SAITAMA

When you first call him, and you hesitate a bit while trying to explain you situation since it’s slightly embarrassing for you, he rushes you then gets a bit worried thinking it might be something serious

he then proceeds to say “seriously…?” When you finally tell him why you’re calling: there was a spider in your house and you were too scared to do anything but stand on top of your table, keeping a wary eye out incase the soider tries to approach.

At first he was about to decline and tell you to just squish it with a shoe, or trap it under a cup and throw it out your window, but when he hears the actual fear in your voice, he sighs and puts on his slippers. He’s supposed to save people and stuff after all…

Surprisingly, when Saitama arrives to kill the creature… he sucks at it. It keeps just escaping from him, no matter how fast or strong he was.

Saitama started to grow mad with every passing second, trashing your house as he jumped from spot to spot trying to catch the thing, with you pointing and yelling frantically from your safe-zone on the table.

”IT’S RIGHT THERE, NO- NO- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU AIMING AT, SAITAMA?! YOU SUCK AT THIS- OH MY- ITS RIGHT THERE, KILL IT!!!” -You “STOP YELLING YOU’RE MAKING ME LOSE FOCUS.” -Saitama

Your house quickly becomes almost like a war-zone with both of you yelling at eachother from the top of your lungs, you out of panic and him out of frustration.

Saitama eventually squishes the spider…. Then an army of tiny spiders erupts from it.

Saitama tries to deal with them quickly, throwing punches at all of them.

when he’s done, he turns to you with a fulfilled expression on his face but deadpans once he catches you lying passed out on the table and foaming at the mouth.

Ofc he takes you to the hospital though.

GENOS

Unlike Saitama, he takes it very seriously when you call him and tell him the predicament you're in.

He doesn’t quite understand the big issue, it's just a bug… but he can detect when someone is in distress, and either way, he would do anything you ask of him.

When he arrives at your home, he’s already gathered enough information on how to safely deal with spiders to take the best approach he can to this.

he grabs a glass container and a piece of paper, proceeds to efficiently trap the spider, and throws it outside.

He does listen to your instructions though and releases it at least a kilometer away from your home.

He then comes back to check on you and gives you a small, almost pitiful, pat on the back.

”Don’t worry about it, you did good.” -Genos, with his very stoic expression

ZOMBIEMAN

MY MUSEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Sorry, anyhow, when you call him, your voice is obviously on edge, and you tell him what’s wrong. The first he does is reassure you over the phone, telling you everything will be fine and he’ll be right there.

And as he said, he was right there.

He checks up on you when he first enters the house, then goes to search for the spider.

When he finds it, he ALMOST stomps on it with his shoe out of surprise but quickly remembers how it’ll probably cause a bigger problem, and like genos he uses the good old glass container and paper method and throws it out.

After that, he helps you get down from the table, with his hands firmly holding you from your sides.

If you’re still uneasy even after he gets rid of the spider, he’ll give you a reassuring embrace, with his large build basically consuming you.

He then takes you out somewhere nice to eat.

SPEED-O’-SOUND SONIC

Ahhh, speed of the sounds

Calls you stupid at first, and tells you to just kill it or leave it be, its more scared of you than you are of it.

But not a second later he’s at your door and asking where the spider is.

He REALLY doesn’t get what the big deal is, it’s just a spider. Nonetheless, he doesn’t really question it much and helps out anyway.

He grabs the spider gently with his hands and throws it out the window, then flashes you an unamused look.

Again, he calls you weak but then tells you not to worry so much when you have someone like him around.

FLASHY FLASH

Sassy flash

He’s irked by your call, then hangs up on you

….

He then calls you again not a second later and asks if you’re actually panicking, and when you say yes, suddenly he busts down your door.

He HATES spiders. But that doesn’t mean he can’t deal with them

thanks to a previous encounter he had with the creature, he learned killing them is a bad idea.

So he hesitantly kept trying to get the spider under the damn cup, but every time he did and it would move, he’d dash to the other side of the room instinctively, releasing the spider once more.

It takes him about 10 tries to finally get the spider out of the house.

After making sure that you’re ok, he then tells you to never waste his time on such ridiculous things ever again

he doesn't mean it though, don’t worry, he’d do it again for you

CHILD EMPORER

He is scared of spiders too

Reluctantly he shows up at your house.

He tries to act tough but you can clearly see the sweat running down his face as he uses his robotic equipment to slowly look under the couch for the spider.

When he finally catches it, he screams, prompting you to scream, and blasts the area of the spider with a laser beam.

the both of you stare intently at the area of the blast and let out a sigh simultaneously as the ash clears and the arachnid has been successfully vaporized.

You both give each other a pat on the back for being so brave

Then you offer to take child emperor to a nearby store and get some ice cream together

he happily obliges and you both skip out of the destroyed apartment with your hands intertwined.

[eoieopda]

🙏🏻 This is my first time submitting a request because I can’t stop imagining Dino helping his drunk BFF home while secretly being in love with her 🧎🏼‍♀️Please if you have time!

superpower

summary: not all heroes wear capes, but chan would probably do so if you asked. pairing: lee chan x reader type: drabble genre: fluff au: friends to ?, pining word count: 1.4k (oops) rating: pg15 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: alcohol/drunkenness, obvi; no pronouns or gendered language is used for reader. a/n: not even remotely proofread (double oops), but i still love this down-bad doofus, so i hope you do, too!

“I’m not saying I have superpowers, but I’m not not saying it.”

Your eyes are blinking a little more slowly than usual, but the unimpressed look you fire off at Chan can’t be missed.

“Can you just —” A hiccup cuts your question in half. You frown with your whole face just to make it clear how serious you are. “Hold my hand? It’s wobbly.”

Chan knows you’re referring to the sidewalk — where you stand and sway along to music that isn’t playing — but that description fits his knees, too. 

He hopes you’re too busy pouting at him to see him furiously wipe his palms against his jeans, afraid you’ll clock how nervous you make him. You start to lean a bit too heavily to one side for his liking, though; and he thinks it’s safe to bet that you’re not noticing much of anything.

That settles it.

The second he envelopes your hand in his, you take it a step further, tugging him close enough that you can slot yourself under his arm.

“Smell nice,” you mumble from his side. “‘s that the new stuff? From the place?”

Now, Chan is the one that’s blinking slowly. He was as drunk as you were until you needed him, and despite his sobering up on a dime — which is a superpower, thank you very much — his processing speed is lagging. You nudge him with your elbow, as if that’ll make what you just said make sense.

“Ahhh!” He plays along, making a big show of realizing things. “Yes, that place. By the thing, right?”

You nod. “Exactly.” 

Behind you both, the Uber that dumped you back at your place pulls away from the curb. Three beats later, you tilt your head and cheer “goodbye” at a long-gone Kia. He feels his heart swell three sizes in chest.

“You like it?” He redirects you because he’s a little bit greedy for your praise — and also because he bought this cologne with the hope that you’d compliment it. Chuckling, he notes, “Considering how much I’m propping you up right now, you’ll probably end up smelling like me.”

When you smile and mutter, “Good,” Chan suddenly feels weightless.

It takes some concentrated effort, but he manages to guide you up the front steps to your apartment building. It takes significant concentrated effort to corral you into the elevator once you clear the threshold. You would’ve spent your night talking the doorman’s ear off, otherwise, providing a dramatic retelling of every single step you took over the last few hours. It takes everything Chan has not to laugh at the relieved sigh he gets in thanks for intervening, although it’s hardly altruistic to want your rambling to himself.

Surrounded by the metallic walls of the elevator car, you point to your joint reflection and muse, “Someone’s awful smiley this evening.”

Chan makes eye contact without having to tilt his head. His brain works overtime to churn out a response that isn’t self-incriminating. Unfortunately for him, the only thought ricocheting around his brain relates to how cute you look, nestled into him.

With a ding, your reflection is gone. The moment goes with it, and without a barrier in front, so do you, like a bat out of hell.

“Oh, my god,” you wail when your apartment door comes into view. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Chan chases after you, arriving embarrassingly out-of-breath — and more than a little fond — just in time to watch you wrestle your keys out of your pocket. They clatter to the floor the second they’re free. You groan, bereft at the loss.

“Stay here,” he says firmly with a finger pointed because he knows you, knows you’ll take one or both of you out of commission if you don’t heed his warning. 

Your eyes cross a little bit as you stare down the barrel of it, but you listen, thankfully; and he’s able to pick up your slack without anyone receiving a concussion. He’s able to usher you into your own home without further incident, too.

Once again: superpowers.

The task of kicking your shoes off is apparently too much to ask of you, so you wander off to your bedroom without even trying. His Nikes are discarded so hurriedly that they barely hit your mat by the time he takes off behind you. The second he catches up, he wins the pleasure of watching you flop backwards onto your mattress.

Funny, he thinks. His heart makes a similar thwump when you smile at him the way you are right now.

Gesturing to the feet dangling off the edge of your bed, he laughs. “Can I please help you?”

You shoot him with dual-wielded finger guns. He takes that as a “yes, please,” and gets to work on the triple knots you managed to install in your laces.

“Chan?”

He hums in acknowledgment without looking up, too confounded by your drunken rope-work to take his eyes off his fingers.

Were you a sailor in a past life?

A little louder and a lot more pathetically, you whine, “Chan,” adding several seconds’ worth of the vowel sound in the process.

Chan has no option but to look up at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s got no choice but to smile with all of his teeth, too. “You rang?”

“You’re so nice.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, he suspects, but it sounds much more like a shout. “How?”

His bemused snort is disguised by the sound of your right shoe hitting the floor.

“I mean it!” You laugh — as if he’d ever doubt you — and smack your palms against your duvet for emphasis. “Like, hello? Good boy alert!”

That — well, that does something to Chan that he’s not willing to unpack right now. Instead, he shucks off your other shoe, bites back his smile, and sits back on his heels.

For a minute, the two of you stay that way: you gazing at him, him gazing right back at you. In every second that slips by in comfortable silence, he works to convince himself that the twinkle in your eye is a byproduct of the shots you took, nothing more. You’re smiling at him like that because you won’t have to sleep in your shoes tonight.

Right?

You nibble thoughtfully on your lower lip before your smile turns sheepish. “Chan?”

He’s not thinking that an angel gets its wings whenever you say his name, but he’s not not thinking that.

“The one and only,” he says with a nod, and he only cringes a tiny bit at his words, after the fact.

Whatever you want to say next seems to be stuck on its way out. In fact, you open and close your mouth twice to no avail. Patience is a virtue, and you are divine, so he waits there — on his knees, no less — and lets you take the lead. Your eyes flick from his face to the fidgeting fingers in your lap, then to the blank space at your side.

“It’s cold out,” you finally declare.

It’s July, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You shouldn’t have to walk home in this weather.”

The sky simply couldn’t be clearer, but Chan would take your word for it if you said that it was green.

“Maybe you should stay.”

He tries not to let the giddiness overtake him. Really, he does. He attempts to shrug nonchalantly, but it's more of a shiver than anything else, and he’s scrambling to his feet before he can chide himself for it.

You laugh — with your whole chest, no less — when he leaps into the spot beside you, settling flat on his back and grinning up at the ceiling. You’re still giggling when you mimic his graceless movements, still beaming when you turn your head to look at him. The air still feels electric, somehow, even after the laughter peters off.

A few moments pass, probably. He doesn’t notice them on their way out.

In a whisper that actually is a whisper, you say his name again, and it kicks off that wild thwump inside his chest.

“Yes?” He responds, much more quietly than his pulse in his ears.

You tug gently at the pillow under his head to draw attention to it. “You’ll probably end up smelling like me now.”

[the-kr8tor]

I don’t know if you’re still taking asks for fluffy Friday but could you do a fic of the Hobie x reader twin AU, where the reader goes into labor and has the twins and their reactions during and after the twins are born!! Your recent one of them seeing the ultrasound was so cute!! But now I kinda wanna see the chaos and the cute that follows lol!! I feel like the doctors would low key be intimidated by Hobie cause he’d taking care of reader but also be staring them down 😂 to the point they’re ask him to leave but he doesn’t of course!! Sorry for the long ask!! Your last fic was just to AMAZING 🤩 !!

Ahhh another twin au request! Thank you for sending this one ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood mention, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You were in an unimaginable pain, the kind you would never wish on anyone, your voice is hoarse from all the screaming and cussing out whoever was unfortunate enough to slightly annoy you. Too bad for Hobie, your annoyance and anger were mostly thrown at him. You had him in an iron grip, he's sure his hand would be aching for days to come. He's been a great help in alleviating the pain, patting your sweaty face dry, feeding you ice chips, whispering words of encouragement and the occasional glare at the doctor who arrived fashionably late to the party.

The epidural was your best friend that you've never thought you'd even befriend. You were sure that you wouldn't need it but after what must've been the umpteenth contraction, you were more than happy to accept its friendship.

After twenty hours of labor, all the literal blood, sweat and tears were all worth it. From the first cry of the older twin came a sudden elation, then the younger came only after five minutes apart from her sister with a loud energetic cry. You were in pain, now everything you're currently feeling is extreme happiness, and also fatigue you've never experienced before.

Following all the ‘good jobs’ from the hospital staff and numerous tearful kisses from Hobie, it's safe to say you're officially a parent to the most beautiful pair of twins. Your girls, the light of your life.

With both babies cleaned and you wiped from all the fluids, they're properly swaddled and checked by the doctor and nurses, you lay almost half asleep with your babies on your bare chest. Hands securing them atop their tiny torsos. They gurgle, making the cutest sound you've ever heard whilst Hobie takes hundreds of pictures with his digital camera. He still can't believe his eyes at the little family he now has.

“Hobie,” you say hoarsely, eyes watery from all the happy sobbing and tiredness. “I think you've got all their angles covered.”

He lifts the camera off his eye, greeting you with a genuine grin. “Alright, let me have a turn at them so you can sleep”

You scoot over, giving him space to sit right next to your hip. Hobie takes the oldest first in his arm with slight trepidation and oh so careful like he's handling the finest china.

“Hi, dad's got you” Hobie looks down at his daughter staring up at him with curious eyes, he doesn't miss the fact that she mirrors your own, almost a copy of yours. With a quick peck on top of her forehead, he moves to take the youngest and smallest from your arms. You help him by cradling the back of her head. “And I've got you too”

She answers with her lips wobbling, looking like she's about to cry her little heart out. Hobie bounces her lightly, making cooing sounds that he would always make when the twins were particularly rowdy in your belly. It works, she still frowns up at her dad but the tears don't fall.

“My brave girl, huh? Just like mum” he leans down slightly, juggling his girls whilst he lifts up the blanket to cover your bare chest. “You did amazingly, love” Hobie tells you for the tenth time just in case you forgot.

You hum in reply, heart tender at the sight in front of you. Hands cupping both his elbows, your way of helping him carry the bundles of joy.

“Did you at least make me look good in the photos?” You gesture to the digital camera on the side table. “I must look horrible in all of them after all that”

Hobie shakes his head, “you're as beautiful as the day I met you, and it's impossible for you to look horrible in pictures”

“Even after almost pooping while I was pushing them out?”

“Especially then” you laugh softly, winching at the soreness.

“You alright?” Hobie scooches closer to you, sharing his warmth, taking a quick glimpse at his girls already sleeping. He's not jealous at all.

“I'm okay, promise” you drop your hands from his elbows down to his thighs, too tired to lift them for a second more. “How are they?”

“Sleeping, you should be too” he observes you closely, your eyebrows slightly knitted, hands limp over his thighs.

“We haven't even decided names for them yet” you whisper.

“We've got plenty of time for that. Sleep, they'll be here when you wake up, yeah?”

“I don't think I want to, I just wanna stare at them forever” you fight an oncoming yawn.

“Sleep or I'll name them B one and B two” he jokes.

“You wouldn't” you do your best glare despite the sleep slowly enveloping you.

“You wanna bet? On second thought Bert and Ernie sounds better”

You surrender, “alright, alright, I'll sleep” your eyes threaten to close. “I really like the first one you suggested, it's Ramona, right?”

“Love” he says sternly with hints of fondness.

You giggle, “okay, love you. All three of you” giving them one last look over, you finally succumb to sleep.

“We love you too”