#and started having a little too much fun with it

[wileys-russo]

party 4 u II a.putellas

idk what this is other than being fueled by a charli xcx lover with a tiktok fyp full of those 'how it feels to hear party 4 u' edits party 4 u II a.putellas

you always started the morning with the same little set of rituals, the war torn practices you'd perfected over years of self indulgent behaviors that left you waking up with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the sahara.

the same step by step process that you sought out to heal you of your demons, the little devils which sat on your shoulder of an evening jeering and snarling at you, picking at every emotional scab they could peel back, words like lemon juice spat on an open wound.

that was how you'd find yourself with phone in hand and sending out a barrage of eager messages, already pouring yourself a stiff drink and settling against the headboard of your bed, your little friends now quieter though their sneering still rang in your ears as you waited for someone to respond they were free.

then once you had even a slight sniff of a plan you'd get begin to get ready, necking down at least another three drinks in the process, your head now silent and buzzing like it was filled with bees, ears stuffed with cotton and a warmth spreading through your stomach that felt invitingly pleasant.

your nights were filled with dancing until your feet might fall off and drinking until you wondered if your liver might follow suit.

bumping into strangers and friends alike though none who really knew the real you or whose faces you might ever see outside of a bar or a nightclub.

whom you'd never share a genuine conversation or a sincere thought with, all relationships you suffocated yourself with containing the same surface level connection where they merely existed to fulfill your need for acceptance, attention and adoration.

but all that had changed the night you met her.

when you'd met alexia you'd hardly been in a sober state of body or mind, hunched over the sink crying your eyes out over your latest situationship who'd left you for something newer and shinier, a pattern you should have been used to considering the type of girls you pulled into bed with you of an evening.

but you never learned, why would you?

not when you could keep repeating the same patterns that left you miserable which went hand in hand with the self destructive habits that lead you craving those short fast connections and the touch of a warm body pressed against your own in the first place.

you'd had far too much to drink with far too little in your stomach to process it, mind spinning from a profound lack of hydration despite how many kamikaze shots you'd downed, and a headache right behind your eyes just starting to set in.

when you'd felt the hand on your back your head shot up instantly, almost pathetically hoping it would be your ex girlfriend up for one more night of fun before she dissipated back into the abyss of the party scene in barcelona.

but instead you were greeted by a new face, kind brown eyes with bore into yours and left you feeling completely stripped bare even if you were very much still fully clothed.

her eyebrows curved downward with concern and there were little dimples either side of her mouth where pale pink lips pursed into a thin line, a frown not filled with disappointment but something else, something softer.

but ultimately, with one small look and a simple touch this stranger had you feeling more vulnerable than when you'd been crying your eyes out in a dimply lit restroom, and you found yourself dabbing at your eyes as if that would make your makeup look any less smeared.

"¿Estás bien?"

little did you know, after that one easy question you'd be the furthest thing from okay you'd been in years.

at first you worried she'd grow bored of you but your usual attempts to fling money or gifts at the problem fell flat, and though the rejection hurt you could see why she'd said no to your less than subtle advances.

you weren't okay, and the connection and acceptance and love you craved came from a place of isolation, and a lack of self acceptance and doubt, from a childhood spent raised by anyone but the woman who gave birth to you or the stranger you'd never known who helped it happen.

you had slips ups, weeks where you'd disappear off the radar and fall back into the welcoming embrace of blocking your feelings with uppers and downers alike, anything to get rid of the reality of being left alone with your thoughts and forced to process them.

you'd never liked feelings despite how much you craved to pull them from others, how many beds you'd woken up in over the years and nameless faces you'd left behind that morning.

still despite all of that, and still to this day you didn't know quite why or how, alexia remained a constant in your life.

picking you up when you were down, yelling at you when you needed a dose of reality and praising when you finally took a step toward your fears instead of running away.

she was the best friend you ever had, maybe even one of the only ones who'd actually cared for more than just your last name and the material and financial assets which came from it, not to say she couldn't pull a pretty penny for herself with her status.

you knew nothing about football aside from that whenever barcelona played, men or women, you'd stumble into any bar along the strip and the game would be broadcast on every tv it could be.

but once you met alexia you learned everything there was to know, throwing your addictive tendencies into studying the rules, the leagues, the competitions, wanting to support her even half as much as she'd supported you.

you showed up to games, met her family, friends, were pulled into the inner circle and for the first time in years finally felt you had a place in life, something to wake up and look forward to of a match day, belong to a community.

you'd long harbored your true feelings for alexia since her initial rejection, recognizing that if you let them get too close to the surface both of you would end up hurt, and the last thing you would ever want to do is push her away or give her a reason to go.

so you lied to yourself, gaslit your own mind that the emotions weren't there, pushed them down and down and focused on other things, you'd almost convinced yourself they were gone.

it had been a few years now and you were yet to realise that they were anything but, that just because you no longer thought about what it might feel like to kiss her or tortured yourself with the endless wonderings of what might be if you just asked her again, they were still there.

you were finally happy, finally okay, finally had genuine friends and hobbies and ways to fill your time that brought sincere fulfillment, finally had the life you'd wanted since you were a child playing alone and talking to imaginary friends.

but there was always something missing, a type of love that none of that brought you that you knew you wanted but didn't have the first clue how to unlock the box it seemed to be stuck and held away from you in.

always something missing, until the night of alexia's thirtieth birthday.

you'd worked alongside her sister and her friends to organise alexia a surprise party, the ridiculously humble captain insisting she didn't want a fuss, didn't want a big party, was happy just to go out to dinner to a nice restaurant, allow one round of singing her happy birthday and call it a night.

though instead the restaurant she'd wanted to dine at was booked out for a private event, all of her closest loved ones gathered and laid in wait for her to walk through and yell out with a cheer.

but when they did, when you were squished inbetween her uncle and her cousin, the last thing you expected was for her ex to be beside her, and for her lips to press against alexias as suddenly it felt like the air was being sucked dry from your lungs.

you hadn't even known they were still in touch though you'd hardly had anything to do with the guest list which alba had full control over.

it was like time stood still as alexia was enveloped in a cocoon of her innermost circle, pushed from hug to hug, reminded she was another year older again and again, toothy cheshire grin plastered ear to ear.

but all you could feel was the uppercut to your stomach that left you winded from seeing her kiss someone else, someone that wasn't you, and all of those feelings you'd been in pure denial of and refused to process, came screaming and hurtling to the surface.

you didn't even flinch as the canons went off and the gold and silver confetti came raining down, feet glued to the floor and those pesky little devils slowly climbing up onto your shoulders again from where you'd flicked them off long long ago.

but before they could whisper anything, confirm the insecurities which were already sounding in your ears, you shook them off and hurried for the door, missing the brown eyes which flickered around the room to find you, and only you.

finally able to exhale as you burst through the double doors and were smacked in the face by the cool evening air, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and head ringing from the cheers in the large room which had shrunk to feel like the smallest of cubes.

you'd never been claustrophobic but you suddenly had a whole new respect for the feeling of everything closing in, desperate to get as far away from this hidden humiliation as you could, maybe even send your therapist a text to see if she could bump your appointment up any earlier.

then you felt it, the hand on your back, almost dropping your phone as you turned and without meaning to pushed her away from you, not missing the hurt and confusion which flashed across her face.

but before you let her speak you took off, heels clacking against the pavement as you sought to put as much distance between the two of you as you could, pretending you couldn't hear her calling after you.

though of course the professional athlete wasn't one who'd be ran away from, another touch now this time clamping around your wrist like a vice, causing you to spin around and almost drop your phone yet again.

she caught it effortlessly because of course she did, though when you reached for it back you exhaled when she held it out of reach and gave you a look that had your cheeks burning up again and wishing the ground might swallow you up.

"alexia-" "no. no por favor, just listen."

it was rare to hear her beg and yet the hints of desperation to her tone had you pausing, walls still up in full defense but you offered a curt nod, the excuse you'd been about to vomit out about not feeling well and heading home not fooling her even before you said it.

"i did not know jenni would be there. i had not asked her to dinner but clearly she was late to that, and i saw her outside and she said-" "alexia really you do not need to -" "no. listen! por favor, i need you to hear me."

at that you once more fell silent, another small nod and she was taking a deep breath before starting again, taking you by surprise again as she took your hands in hers, rings cold against your own fingers which were for once bare.

"jenni is a friend, nothing more. i do not have those feelings for her, there is someone else that i have always-" at that you tried to pull your hands away but she held on tighter.

"alexia no really you-"

this time you were silenced once more though this time it wasn't with a curt look or a pleading word, this time it was pillow soft lips pressing against yours and hands which were once holding yours moving to find home against your hips, drawing you impossibly close.

when finally she pulled away you were left stunned, head reeling and a moment of regret flashing across her face before her features hardened and her hands moved again to gently cup your cheeks.

"you. amor it has always been you."

[enhani-ki]

ENHYPEN AS YOUR "HOMEBOY"

warnings : very short, maybe a little suggestive :)

HEESEUNG

your homeboy who's too naturally flirty. it happens all the time that you don't even catch it anymore—you thought you'd become numb or immune to it.

you're his food buddy. you always share bites and judge menus together.

sometimes you'll talk about something deep like fear of failure or what dreams even mean anymore—and he'll tell you how far you've come, or let's you know just how proud he is of you. sometimes you'll get shy and flustered, sometimes you'll roll your eyes, and sometimes, you just straight up cry.

"what?" he'd say, all wide-eyes and innocent. "what did i say?" "what the hell did i do?"

if it were anyone else, they'd fall for him every time.

JAY

your homeboy who shows you love through quiet actions. he surprises you with either little or big gifts like: a drink you mentioned once, a charm you saw at a stall, jewelry, or a designer t-shirt you've been eyeing nonstop. doesn't need a 'thank you' and never ever made a big deal out of anything.

jay loves taking naps with you. he's also not loud but for sure gets that random energy burst. sometimes he starts yapping, your heads would bump together because he's moving so much.

truth is, he'll probably do and give you whatever you ask. jay loves seeing you happy and he loves it more when you're comfortable in life.

JAKE

your homeboy who treats you like you're one of his beloved dogs. he loves taking walks with you outside and he's always affectionate. he touches your back or waist, sometimes he gets protective without realizing it.

jake gets those bursts of cute aggression whenever he looks at you, randomly slapping your thighs (gently?) while laughing biting his lip or biting his tongue out.

like heeseung, he's also naturally flirty.

his eyes light up and he gets excited when you let him treat you or spoil you even a little.

SUNGHOON

your homeboy who always clock your tea. he always bickers with you and nagging like you've been married to him for 15 years.

he tries to be patient but will 100% call you out when you start acting dumb or when you don't take him seriously. still, he's the one who gets worried the most for you, always checking in on you.

karaoke nights. he shows you his exclusive tiktoks. whenever he goes shopping with you, sunghoon wants you to take everything you want and he just pay for it.

SUNOO

your homeboy who matches your energy so perfectly. you're both full of genuine love and compliments, it's like a competition on who loves who more.

you do skincare or make-up together. you both take each other on dates and post cute pictures with lovey-dovey captions.

with him, it's glittery, chaotic, and lowkey kind of romantic. he's your soulmate for real.

JUNGWON

your chillest homeboy. makes sure you're fed, makes sure you both went to the place you wanted to check out, he lets you pick where to eat, and like to puts a hand in your shoulder while walking together.

he always has the best reactions whenever he listens to your rants. jungwon knows all your gossip, even knows the life story of people he's never met.

always calm, unbothered, and quietly devoted to your comfort. people are always mistaking you for a couple though.

NI-KI

your clingiest homeboy but be on some nonchalant shit sometimes, it's annoying. dramatically calls you into his room for an 'emergency' only to ask you to turn off the light because he's too cozy to move.

he runs to you when the others tease him and back him into the corner. "can you tell them i'm right?" "back me up, please? just this once?" even though you always do.

you message each other every day. he always win at every games, makes fun of you, then feel bad after.

ni-ki loves his nap sessions with you, sometimes you even wake up with his arms wrapped around your waist.

fake trips and you have no idea why. he loves it because you spoil him all the time but when it's his turn to do the same for you? it's 1000/10, chef's kiss, he knows everything you want and he'll give it to you.

note : i hope i understood what platonic means TT マスターリストm.list

[thecoochiefairy]

short n’ sweet. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.7K word count. blackfem!reader/original character, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, creaming, aggressive dirty talk, nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ guess who it is? yo’ favorite couple. now, lemme’ tell you. this is NOT the new fic, so look out for that in the next couple of days. this was just the nasty part of my mind wanting to put pen to paper—and i might’ve seen this video that reminded me of ole’ girl and ony real bad. so i suggest watching before reading ;) it’s nasty. sorry? kinda? not really. okay, bye.

𝓐ᥫ᭡:: your baby’s birthday is full of surprises.

visual.

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE HADN’T BEEN YOUR ONLY CHOICE. From Bratz, to Hello Kitty, the possibilities of a six month olds birthday party shouldn’t have been so complex—that was, if you weren’t dealing with your black ass family. 

Driving from New Orleans to Mississippi wasn’t the issue. It was planning this party, having to take it three hours from your hometown, packing your children up for their first road trip, and making sure everything was set in stone by the time you arrived.

To top things off, you didn’t…feel well. 

Once again, this was all the doing of your mother in law. You loved her, but her desires of doing everything to her perfection could be—suffocating.

It was an exciting time—your baby girl was turning six months old, and the entire family freaked out as if this weren’t you and Onyankopon’s second baby. You could appreciate everyone’s desire to celebrate—aunts, uncles, Onyankopon even had a couple of his teammates coming.

The idea of planning this whole thing was supposed to be fun. But it became less fun when you had the realization that you weren’t the one in charge of this. It was even more frustrating that Onyankopon tried his best to tame his mother, but there was nothing much he could do when she had her mind made up. 

So you did what you always did—gave a smile, and tried not to fuss as much as you wanted to.

It started with the decorations. You’d bought everything you wanted for your baby girl’s party to give Strawberry Shortcake down to her outfit—however, after going over budget, you found out that your mother in law had gotten decorations professionally made, and she decided that your decorations were too “Boring.” 

Strike two was when she decided to ship everything to your house and not hers, meaning that you were overflowing the car, but you had to pack your own stuff, your husbands, and two babies into Onyankopon’s G—Wagon. 

Strike three—your breast ached from having to feed Sage within this three hour drive, you had the worst cramps on the planet—and you learned that Salem could become carsick. You stopped two times, having to change his clothes, hold him within the passenger seat with a tiny bottle of water, and made sure no vomit made it anywhere on the seats. 

When you finally made it to your mother in laws, all you wanted was a nap. Onyankopon offered to take the kids downstairs for a while as you slept, but around the clock, Sage could be what you called a velcro baby, losing her everlasting shit if you weren’t within arms reach.

 You were tired, irritated, and sore more than usual. But you weren’t gonna cry.

It all led up to the day of your baby girl’s birthday—the morning was a little more chaotic than you hoped for, current focus along feeding Sage, while your mother in law ran rapidly around the house.

“Where are the cupcake toppers? Did you move them?”

Your eyes flick up to her, standing in a pale pink and red apron, looking like a mentally insane pastry chef.

Your voice is soft as you say, “Ony put everything in the garage like you asked him to, momma.”

She doesn’t waste a beat to rush out of the kitchen, leaving the scent of buttercream behind. You turn your attention down to Sage, the baby smacking her lips against your nipple as she continues to suckle.

You can’t even properly greet your husband as he enters the kitchen, not to mention, he was doing a great job of avoiding your irritation and his mother’s wrath. He’d camouflage into the wall if he could.

“Lil’ mama already lookin’ for yo’ titty this early?”

You release a soft breath, “I’m really thinkin’ about taking her off—putting her on the bottle for good.”

Your eyes narrow a bit, “And where have you been? Yo’ momma in here’ about to lose her mind because you moved the cupcake toppers.”

“That’s how you greet yo’ man? Don’t start trippin’ on me, girl. Forreal’.”

He pecks a kiss on your lips, leaning down to do the same with his baby’s forehead. Your irritation might’ve soothed a bit.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just—as little sleepy, is all. Good morning,” you pull him in for another soft peck on the lips, “Where’s Say-Say? Still sleep?”

“Yeah—lil’ nigga tried to swing on me earlier cause I told him to hand over that pacifier. But he ‘sleep—climbed his bad ass in Sage’s pack-n-play. The real question is—how you doin’?“

You can’t even answer the question. Onyankopon’s mother comes back into the kitchen as she questions, “Onyankopon—did you move the cake toppers? I told you not to touch them!”

Onyankopon raises an eyebrow, “And have you cuss’ me out? Hell nah’ I ain’t touch ‘em. They’ been in the garage since we got here.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t hear me mention the attic, and that’s where you actually put them?”

She dismisses his statement, the sound of opening and shutting doors echoing into the kitchen as she frantically pulls at the wood.

“Are you sure you ain’t lose em’?” 

“I have a great memory!” she huffs, “If I can’t find them—the cupcakes are gonna be dull—they don’t look a lick of Strawberry Shortcake!—And y’all just sitting there, watching me freak out!” 

She gives you no time to defend yourself, stomping out of the kitchen as she cusses. Your jaw is clenched a bit, turning back towards Onyankopon as you raise an eyebrow, “You wanna know how I’m doing? Forreal’? ‘Cause that might cause an argument.”

His eyes narrow, "C’mon, bro. Don’t start. You know how my momma be’."

“I ain’t even say nothing, Ony. You keep reminding how yo’ momma acts, but you ain’t saying nothing to her.”

 Your voice is a little sharp, pulling yourself back as Onyankopon tries to grab for Sage, “Stop—You know she’s gonna start crying.”

"If you 'bout to start somethin', can you do it after the party?" He takes note of your attitude, his voice more stern than usual, “We came all the way out here for lil’ mama—I ain’t about to let y’all make a scene.”

“I’m literally more calm than I should be,” you deadpan, “How you finna’ check me about my attitude but not yo’ momma? Your priorities are in the wrong place right now.”

Onyankopon smacks his lips, “I ain’t realized there was a manual on how to react when yo’ wife actin’ salty, and yo’ momma in the next room ‘bout to pop a blood vessel.”

“What you’ want me to do, Ony? How should I act?” You question, placing Sage against your shoulder, gently patting her back, even in the midst of your irritation.

“Just chill. I ain’t tryna’ click out on you and my momma.” 

Onyankopon’s gaze is serious, not backing down despite your glare.

“I’m so serious.” 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sorry that me being irritated with the fact that we drove three hours—well, let’s wrap it up to five since Salem was car sick—that I had to also feed Sage— not to mention that I was extremely uncomfortable since we had no room in the backseat with all the extra decorations your mom decided to buy when I already bought some! I’m running off twelve hours of sleep in the past two days, and somehow your momma still thinks I’m not doing enough. My fault—let me chill.”

Sage burps, babbling as she wraps her mouth along the end of your shoulder. Your arms are sore at this point. You sigh, “Take her,” as you lean your baby girl into his arms.

Sage babbles, wrapping her toothless gums on the end of his t-shirt, rubbing her face into her fathers chest. 

“Aight,” He nods, hearing the frustration in your voice, “I’m sorry. You’ right.”

You don’t mean to be snappy—You don’t want to be. You hate when you get like this, another exhale blowing from your lips as you’re holding that urge to cry. God, your period was definitely coming. Not only are you emotional, but even being upset with your husband, you wanna be as close to him as possible. And—were you a little horny? 

You rub the muscular bicep of his tattooed arm, “You mind getting her dressed while I take a quick nap?”

He nods, “Of course. I was gon’ do that anyways.”

He takes Sage onto his shoulder, “I’ll come wake you up so you got time to get ready—just focus on sleeping, aight? I’m ‘bout to get Say-Say dressed and go help my momma with these cupcakes before dressing Sage.”

You reach for his ear, rubbing affectionately as you hum, “You’re so sweet, Daddy. Thank you.”

Onyankopon’s serious gaze eases, a smirk growing on his face.

“Aight—you know ain’t no callin’ me that if you ain’t gon’ do all the rest,” He shakes your grip from his ear, pressing a kiss on your palm. 

“C’mon, ‘fore you get me worked up.”

You roll your eyes, giggling softly as you begin making your way back upstairs—but you can’t help but listen to Onyankopon talking to your daughter—as he always did.

“Don’t worry, baby. All of us gon’ be back in NOLA soon, and yo’ momma gon’ be back to herself—You gon’ get to see aunties, uncles— whatchu think? A whole lotta Strawberry Shortcake, huh? What a life you’ blessed with, pretty mama…”

Getting some type of rest definitely puts you in a better headspace, and the true realization that you were celebrating your baby’s birthday couldn’t have made you any happier. Sage’s Strawberry Shortcake Party was in full swing. 

Sweets and desserts scattered across the plaid picnic table for guests to choose from. Everyone was here—family, Onyankopon’s players, even you and your mother in law were now getting along—everyone was in adoration of your baby, the celebration being better than you expected it to ever be. 

Your dress matched Sage’s strawberry covered bonnet, oversized along her dark curls, her dress fluffing out from its poofy frill. The sight had you snapping a thousand pictures— however, you’re a bit distracted. 

You’d redone Onyankopon’s braids for him the night before, the olive green shirt he wears clinging to his muscular frame, complimenting his brown skin that mixes with all of his tattoos. It’s something about how much of a southern man he really was—being in between New Orleans and Mississippi—he’s sporting jeans, a hefty belt shining under the natural light coming into the house, cowboy boots heavy on his feet with each step. Facial hair, face tats, it all pulls together with the print hung under his belt that he can’t seem to tuck. 

God. 

But you’re no better—the mini halter dress you wear molds around your full hips and ass, lace trimming along the end of the pale pink material. Your matching woven sandals show off the French tip of your toes, dark curls framing around your curvy figure.

The sight of your husband—it’s becoming a problem. Your heart swells as you hold Salem in your arms, the tune of Happy Birthday echoing to your baby girl, Onyankopon holding her up towards the cake, allowing her to tear the dessert apart piece by piece. She’s giggling, and to see Onyankopon so soft with your daughter that you created together—it made you love him even more. 

 Back to the point of him being a problem— now, he’s being touchy. 

Salem’s a bit more independent now, running around the yard with his cousins as he screams out in excitement. You have the perfect view of your family enjoying the celebration that your mother in law put so much time and effort into—you couldn’t help but thank her, despite your differences. 

Back to the point again, Onyankopon being a problem. His fingers become hooked along the waist of your dress, his face pressed in the crook of your neck as he kisses on your skin, gently nipping and licking.

You knew your husband to be affectionate, so to him, this was just showing you love in a way that he felt was innocent. But with each kiss, each compliment, your clit throbbed. 

Maybe he noticed. Maybe he didn’t.

The party was now close to ending—Sage and Salem being taken upstairs to bed, leaving the rest of the adults downstairs, drinking and catching up with each other. You leaned yourself against his shoulder as he talked to his teammates, lightly padding your fingers against his lower back in the softest way. Your palms travel, finding the warmth of his ear—you start rubbing there.  

Onyankopon can always sense your change in temperature. Your hands wander aimlessly on his body at this point, still giving no reaction to your touch as he occasionally takes a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand.

You’re looking at him— his legs spread against the chair, boots flat along the ground, bulge prominent as he continuously attempts to adjust himself. Your mind won’t stop fantasizing, and you can imagine yourself just—

Dishes. You needed to do the dishes.

The moment you say your goodbyes to everyone, you’re quiet as you wash off the ceramic plates into the sink. You can hear Onyankopon throwing things in the trash behind you, a sigh parting from your lips as you ask, “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

 His hands slide up from behind, his arms enveloping your body as his hands gently rub circles along your stomach. Your body is pressed against his, warm and needy—but, was this the right time to speak up? 

“My baby had a big day,” He says, his voice in a low hum.

“I just wish she would be able to remember times like these, you know? She was so giggly and excited to smash her cake, and her outfit was adorable—those are times we’ll never get back with her. I’ll think about them a lot,” you softly smile, leaning yourself back against your husband's chest.

“She gon’ know how much we loved her,” He kisses on the side of your neck, “We do got’ a few more times like this before Salem hits three, so don’t beat yo’self up too much, aight? Our family is perfect.”

You press your lips together at that. Turning your head to face him, you’re tilting up to find the gaze of his height. Your brown eyes pool into his sight, hand reaching for his facial hair, scratching your fingers into the coils of it.

“Thank you for holding me together today. I was a little frustrated earlier—but everything turned out better than I ever thought it would. I was good, wasn’t I?”

“It’s nothing you gotta thank me for, baby. We do this as a team, aight? You was’ good, even when you had every reason to be upset. You my lil’ team player, forreal’.”

That makes you smile. Your eyes are right below his as you say, “You’ my big team player,” you softly giggle.

“I know that. C’mere.” 

His hand cups the back of your head, locking your lips into a kiss, full lips overlapping yours. It removes the lip combo you wear, tongue deepening itself in your mouth. 

“Yo’ ass was good today, Mama.”

You’re always ready to accept his kisses, but sometimes—between you and yourself—you couldn’t handle Onyankopon when he got like this. Not to mention that your body felt overly sensitive in the moment, so just from a kiss, you were trembling.

You’re shy within your giggle as you breathlessly muse, “T—Thank you, baby.”

“You already know I’m gon’ thank you some more in ‘bout two minutes. Take yo’ ass upstairs.”

Onyankopon was always a man of his word. Here you were now—body shuddering from his tongue previously nose deep in your pussy, heart rate pounding in your ears as you straddled your smaller frame atop of his. You loved riding him—but you loved seeing his face more, rather than facing the opposite way as you were now. On the other hand, Onyankopon loved this position just as much as seeing your pretty face— his eyes continuously traced over the ink tattooed along your back, the dark pink complimenting your caramel skin. 

You whimper to him, “Wanna see you, Ony.” 

His tip is already being engulfed by the pretty pink of your folds, puffy as they’re stretched by the girth of him. 

Onyankopon takes a handful of your hair, giving it a tug—your body quivers the minute you feel his other palm smack your ass, “Yo’ shit too muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama. Lemme’ enjoy you like this.” 

Your lashes brush against your freckled cheeks as you slowly lower your hips, every inch of him being sucked in by your pussy, the back of your thighs meeting his abdomen as you go down. The curls of your hair drape along your figure with the sway of your body dipping, your lips parting a bit, shakily gasping in the softest way. 

Leaning yourself against his legs, your teeth lightly tug at your lower lip as you rock down, finding a rhythm within the angle, skin creating the tiniest clapping echo against his dick. You part a whimper from your lips. 

“Goddamn, Mama—Who you doin’ allat for?” 

A hand makes its way over the front of you, rubbing the middle of your stomach to feel your body shift. His touch has you arching, your soft cry of pleasure deafening to your own ears as your ass bounces on his hips. You never sounded like this so early. 

“Ion’ know who you was tryna’ play,” Onyankopon grunts out—you’re like a pendulum, putting him in a trance with the way you wine your body. But that never stopped his mouth. 

“A nigga gon’ know if you need him as soon as you walk inna’ room—allat’ attitude, touchin’ on me—That’s how you know a nigga love yo’ ass. You love me, huh?” 

“Love you,” your voice is still soft, whimpering as you hold your ass in your own palms, spanking yourself, “Love you, Ony…” 

Every time he mentions the word love, even indirectly—you’re like a puppy, willing to agree to anything that comes from his mouth. That’s how it’s always been. 

“You a good lil’ bitch,” he grunts, “Keep fuckin’ me.” 

His clasp at the end of your curls has your eyes rolling, your mouth pouting as he tugs you down to meet the sticky heat of your pussy becoming wetter. His palm lowers itself, gripping your ass, finding a hold there—you’re dropping, dropping, you’re groaning in the prettiest way, “Ughn, O—Ony…” 

“Keep singin’, baby. Keep throwin’ that shit.” 

His desire for you grew with each child, with each touch, with each word. But he would still give you the world.

Onyankopon always gave you an immense amount of pleasure—but when he wanted to reward you—god, you were lucky you weren’t a mental patient.

The positions are always dominated by him, now having you bent at the edge of the bed, body arched to perfection, legs tucked underneath his to keep you still. His fingers always find a hold of your hair, locking you in place as he’s sliding his tip up and down against your folds—slow, aching.

Your face is hidden beneath the sheets, palm finding a collection of the comforter beneath your fingers. Your pussy spreads as his tip sinks in—Onyankopon grounding  his hips, allowing the weight of his dick to fill you in all one thrust. 

Your mouth drops, “Damn, baby…”

It’s almost torturous—his tip goes from kissing at your folds, to the air within your chest leaving as you’re full in a milliseconds, dick curving into your walls, reaching for your cervix that eats a delicious pinch from his strokes. Again and again, the room fills with a sweet lullaby of the slaps his hips make against your ass. Each thrust is accompanied by a satisfying whine from your mouth. 

“This them’ good girl strokes,” he grunts, stroking through his words, “Good ass fuckin’ girl.”

For the sake of your mother in law and children, you press your mouth into the sheets, eyes rolling as your whimpers muffle through the material—but Onyankopon could be the worst sometimes.

His favorite place to grasp—your curls, his fingers collect anything he can get his hands on, using it to drop you down in the slowest he’s ever given you a thrust, his balls rubbing against your clit, dick nearly reaching for your windpipe—he’s deep, deeper than he’s ever been before.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” his voice is dark, “Imma’ keep you here. Let you feel this big ass dick.” 

“Fuckkk.”

Your eyes roll as you gasp—your pussy was’ stuffed.

“Can’t f—feel you no more,” you whimper, trying to pull yourself together through the pleasurable tears that begin to collect in your eyes. You tremble, your mouth quivering a sob, “I’m too wet, baby. Oh my g—god…”

You don’t even realize you’re cumming—squirting for that matter—only able to hear the splat, splat of your arousal gushing in between your skin colliding together. Your thighs are trembling, the vibration traveling up to your throat as you groan. 

“Don’t be fuckin’ lyin’ to me—you feel my shit.” 

His fingers tightened around your curls, forcing you back onto his dick after a swift jerk, making your head tilt backwards for your throat to be exposed, your lower body going numb as he fucks you into an oblivious space.

He’s close, sliding his soaked tip out to see your cum glistening down the dick, to putting you back on him—again, again, again.

You’re brain is so fried, you begin bouncing yourself back on his dick, cumming, continuously cumming—you’re whining as you turn your head back towards him, “Dick so fuckin’ big, Daddy. Just taking your pussy. Just. Take…me….” 

You’re talking through the strokes you provide for yourself, you’re drooling, almost in a bimbo like state. He took you there. 

His body looms over yours as he finds a place of your throat to hold, pulling your face back to watch you. The sounds you made were identical to an angel crying, prettier than ever before. His dick finds the last crevice of space left inside you—his tip rests in between your cervix, “Make a mess on this bitch. Make. A. Fuckin’. Mess,” he emphasizes thrust. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkk.”

It happens—you scream—Onyankopon moans as you squeeze around him, pulling himself out to replace his dick with his fingers—he chaotically rubs your clit, fingers becoming drenched as you squirt again. 

His hand holds you in place as you cry, legs trembling, having one of the most intense orgasms you’d had with him. There’s more tears in your eyes, your head knocking into the sheets, hiding your flushed face as you hadn’t expected your own reaction.

His voice grumbled into the shell of your ear, “There you go, baby. You did that shit for me. Did all that shit for me, huh?”

You only have to let out a shaky exhale in response to his words, too exhausted to argue otherwise.

That’s when you both hear a knock— it startles you so bad that your entire body jolts, Onyankopon cradling you beneath his hold protectively. His voice is low as he responds, “Yeah, momma. What you’ need?”

“I heard screaming—is everything alright? 

You hide your face into his arm. 

Onyankopon deepens his face into your neck, chuckling before he replies, “Yeah. She—uh, saw a big ass spider. We’ good.” 

“Oh—I just wanted to check. Anyways , this baby lookin’ for yo’ wife’s nipple.“

You sigh, barely able to respond, nearly halfway asleep in the seconds they conversed with each other. Your voice is soft as you reply, “I’m comin’, momma—Just give lil’ mama her binky until then.”

The silence that fills the room confirms that she left, a quiet, soft laugh coming off Onyankopon’s lips. 

“You know she ain’t stupid—she finna’ get my ass, lawd.”

“No,” you cover your reddened face with his arm, “That’s so embarrassing. God, please go get Sage so I don’t have to face that conversation.”

“You heard how bad my ass was lyin’?”

He continues chuckling, the rumble of it hitting your back as you huff, “Ony.”

“Aight, aight,” He laughs, “Let me clean up ‘fore I head up there.“

The heat of the moment begins to fade away as your sobriety washes over you. The moment he goes to leave—you stop him. Turning to face him, you wrap your arms around Onyankopon’s neck as you pucker your lips out for a kiss, “I love you. You love me?”

“With my life, shawty,” He leans forward, pressing his lips into yours for a quick peck that you’ve been seeking.

“You sure?”

You didn’t mean to have the question sound worrisome, but your voice was a little—hesitant. You were hesitant.. 

“Baby. That’s never gon’ change. What’s going on?” he frowns, “Why’ you feelin’ like this?”

Remember all the times you said you weren’t gonna cry today? 

Too late for that. 

Your hands quickly cover your face as you feel your body trembling— you softly sob, hiding your cries within your palms as you release all the emotions you’d been holding for the past couple of days.

“Aye—What’s goin’ on, baby? Hey,” he takes your face into the palms of his large hand, “You can cry, forreal’, but what got you feelin’ like this? Why’ you think I wouldn’t love you? Talk to me.”

Your tears run down your face, cheeks as red as your baby girls as you continue to cry. Your voice shakes as you whimper, “You’re gonna be upset with me…” 

“Aight, aight, just—,” he shakes his head, cupping your face into his hands more  as he tries to figure out what to say.

“—You know I can’t stand seeing you cry. I ain’t never gon’ be mad at you for that—just talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry for being mean to you, baby. I just—I love you so much—and you told me that you wanted a big family—but we just had lil’ mama, and you’re about to get back on the field again—“ 

“Mama,” he cuts off, “Slow down. What you’ tryna say? Are you pregnant?” 

“…I just—I wanted to try a new birth control because the IUD was giving me issues—and I forgot to take my pills—you probably don’t even want another baby.”

You’re crying even harder now, pressing your face into his chest.

“You—,” He sighs, not even attempting to mask his irritation, “You think I’d be upset that you’ pregnant again?” 

 His tone is low before he continues, “I don’t care if you get pregnant with ten of my kids. You my fuckin’ wife. We’ll have a whole muhfuckin’ football team if that’s what god blessed us with. I love you. That ain’t gon’ change.”

That makes your heart swell. You press your forehead to his, a tearful giggle falling from your lips. 

“I didn’t mean to start crying,” you softly say, taking a deep breath as your fingers wrap around his necklace, “My period was supposed to be a week ago, but when I realized it was late—I thought I was being dramatic thinking I was pregnant again, so I didn’t even tell you—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be talkin’ nonsense,” He mutters, “I told you when we first started this family that the number didn’t matter to me—As long as you happy.”

“I’m more than happy,” you say, pressing your lips back into his, “I love you and our babies so much.” 

Onyankopon’s smile grows into a smirk, “I got a bunch of kids runnin’ around here anyway, Salem ‘bout two in one—I’m ready when you ready, baby.”

That makes more tears pour from your eyes. You tighten your arms around his neck as you softly cry, “I love you so much, Onyankopon.”

“I love you more, baby. Ain’t that why yo’ lil’ ass cryin’?” He chuckles, gently patting and rubbing on your back, “You gon’ be a mess if you keep goin’ like this. I’m finna’ go tell my momma—MA! MA!”

You giggle as he takes off—and at this point, you’re not entirely sure why you’re still crying. You’re just sensitive, okay?

You’re sobbing, but you’re so happy. You had no idea how lucky you truly were to have this man. Your heart flutters as you try to stop your tears, but the love for your family is making it difficult. The love for him made it all the more worse.

That was never gonna change.

[neodazed]

enhypen - 🎀 - grinding/dry humping

ot7xfem!reader - grinding and dry humping

warnings: grinding, dry humping (wow the shock), clothed sex, thigh/knee-riding, hand-riding, nose-humping, abs too, mentions of doing it on objects, some might be executed slightly painful, not all humps are dry tho, lmk if i missed smth!

biggest kisses and hugs to every oral-fixation enjoyer out there 💋 can’t believe it got 600 notes ! also, i wanted to say that i’ll gladly take requests, but i’m a person who takes their time and def puts their brain-bugs first. have fun reading !

HEESEUNG

The first time Heeseung kisses you out of pure impatience, so rough his nose quite literally smashes onto yours, you know that’s something you will ride one day.

Obviously, you weren’t wrong.

But it’s not like you could just ask him bluntly — hey, you’re nose is so perfect, can I ride it? You didn’t have that much of a filthy mouth on you, no. You needed an ideal situation, which where you both were lost and loose enough to flew towards that direction.

So, back in the present, you’re already sitting on his face. The only fabric still “covering” you is the partially unclapped white bra, that Heeseung was too impatient to discard entirely, resulting in a annoyed huff, and just leaving it hanging off your tits, before grabbing your thighs in a harsh grip, and pulling you over his face.

Familiar it was, how your pussy enveloped mostly his chin and lips, a thing you’ve done countless times since you got together. The usual, practiced moves of his tongue licking your walls till the deepest parts he could possibly reach. His mouth closing around your clit, sucking so hard to the point you cried from both pleasure and faint pain. Sometimes, he liked to act like a jerk, and force you to stay in place, so that the joy you recieved was completely controlled and minimized by him, but truly, deep down, he was drunk. So high from how you taste, smell, and feel, all he wanted was to lay there and let you bounce on his face until he suffocates.

Totally normal about it.

Again, you’ve taken your well-deserved place. Your grip on his hair is tight and stable, as you lift your hips up and down in a repeating motion, sliding his warm muscle in and out of your pulsing hole. He groans into you, sending all the right vibrations, finger trying to rub your hard nub. When you push a little harder, paying a little less attention to wether he gets to breathe or not, you slide up enough that your clit brushes against the tip of his nose, and it’s so good you forgot everything you’ve thought out before. Your movements become intentional and directed, and his hand drops to his side by the newfound force. He waits a little, before grabbing your hips to pull away, his expression amused.

He’s smirking.

“If you like my nose so much, why don’t just sit on it all together?”

Your face reddens, realizing how obvious you have been. Is there a point of denying now though? Absolutely none. He gives a more soft, confirming nod, actually encouraging. You sit back, now in a position that allows his nose to go in between your puffy lips.

You don’t let yourself down entirely, but he doesn’t take your nice values happily, he grunts and pushes you down. Whimpers leave your mouth as you grind your clit without hesitation this time, a mantra of his name, gratitude to every god in the sky that let you have this moment. Crying out is an understatement to the noise you let out when the tip of his nose somehow manage to push past your ring. The bump rubs your insides in an unusal, yet mouth watering way. It’s Heeseung.

He’s the one slobbering over this, feeling like he’s on the edge of fucking heaven, and you’re about to send him through the gate by choking him into afterlife with your cunt.

Turns around it’s both of yours thing, afterall.

JAY

It was supposed to be a simple makeout session after dropping you off at home.

But then you started to stroke the back of his head with your cute little nails, opening your mouth wider, arching into his touch more, and before you could blink, you were in his lap.

However, he still holds back as much as he can, knowing you have to part ways eventually. He strokes your waist in a gentle manner, not pushing or pressing at all.

The problem is?

Those fucking jeans he decided to put on today. For anyone else, it looks and is like a simple pair of black denim jeans, and you are glad for that, honestly. Because thank god no one expect you stared at Jay enough to obsess over how the baggy pants got so tight in the place that mattered the most in this moment. You don’t even want to deny how you’ve been ogling at the bulge in his lap.

And that was him soft.

You must have a sixth sense, that made you wear a skirt today. As you lean onto his body, and lick into his warm mouth, it’s incredibly easy to just put your covered wetness on said bulge. He groans into the kiss, pulling back for a minute.

“We don’t have time to have sex now…” Is what he whispers, the words sounding almost painful coming from him, and you chuckle, continuing the kiss.

“We don’t have to” The short sentence is made in bits, taking a second for a sloppy kiss in between every word. He’s a tiny bit skeptical, but now so turned on he doesn’t protest.

He’s big enough to press against you in the right angle even through the tight material. It feels so big, so hot, so hard it makes a point itch somewhere deep inside of you. Your panties made of lace, and the fabric you try to so needily grind on make such an uncomfortable mix you’re not even sure how does it still feels so good.

It’s similar to a few things you did in the past, when you were single and inexperienced. Like humping a pillow, spraying cold water onto your clit on the hardest pressure, or grinding yourself back and forth on the arm of your chair.

Expect, now you’re not just dumbly chasing pleasure. It’s with Jay, who is kissing you so hard it bruises your bottom lip. With Jay, who guides you back and forth on his dick with his grip on your hips. With Jay, who pulls your soaked panties aside, and spits on your cunt you’ve rubbed raw by this point to make the slide easier, not caring if it also lands on his clothes. You already dirtied him with your slick, anyways.

It’s with Jay, who lets you explore and have your fun for a while, before getting frustrated and unbuckling his belt. The zipper he tries to pull down fastly grazes your lips, and you hiss, but immediatelly forget about it when his dick gets shoved into you the next second.

JAKE

It’s late in the evening.

The light breeze flowing in through the slightly opened window is a small sort of relief to your body, heated from the oppressive summer air and from the sight of your shirtless boyfriend laying next to you.

You are both tired - it’s obvious. Hazy eyes, short yawns, giggling about literally anything that happens in the late night glow, while you are wrapped up in each others presence.

But you can’t just go to sleep. Not like this, not when he is kissing so softly inside of the part connecting your neck and shoulders. When he reaches down to see if you’re also aroused, and it’s not just him growing needy despite the tiredness glooming over both of you.

He finds you wet, obviously. He smiles against your lips, proud of himself, and probably because he is a little out of it. Helps you kneel up just enough so that he can flatten his palm perfectly to cup your heat. He is way too spent to do his usual teasing, and the same goes for you. You make a silent agreement to just take.

His hand and forearm is strong, they don’t even budge as you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth. You always loved them, to be honest. They’re big enough to envelope your smaller ones, his fingers are long and veiny, and it all screams perfection. He adds just the slightest pressure with one of his long digits to your clit, a motivation to go faster.

To hump the fuck out of it, basically.

But it wouldn’t be Jake if he wasn’t a whiny mess himself - he doesn’t ask for your palm, he just grabs it, and wraps it around his cock. He fucks your fist in a messy pace, no rhythm whatsover, sometimes yanking your arm so hard your own pace falters. Or the opposite, and he gets you in a position where the knuckles of his fingers press on your covered slit in a way that sends you to the edge right away.

‘S-so good, baby. Gonna come all over my hand? Gonna fuck yourself on it?’

Both of you do exactly that.

SUNGHOON

Black tank top+gray sweats+Sunghoon after his gym session?

Either have him now, or die, you think.

He’s sitting in front of you, with a towel loosely hanging around his neck.

The way his thigh strains beneath the thin fabric makes your mouth water, quite literally. All you can think about is having that taut muscle pressed between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the fabric until it starts to ache — from both the frustration and the roughness of the material.

Then your gaze travels up to his torso, watching as the black tank top clings to his slightly sweaty muscles, outlining everything perfectly for your hungry eyes. You have to bite the inside of your cheek just to stop a moan from slipping out at the sight alone.

Of course, Sunghoon isn’t stupid — and by now, he knows you well enough to read your mind. Not that your lust-drunk expression left much to the imagination anyway. He smiles at your reaction, before pulling you into his lap.

‘Sit, pretty’ He pats his wide spread thighs for you.

He starts kissing you — hot, demanding. In contrast, his fingers are gentle as they caress your thigh, moving slowly up and down, occasionally slipping just beneath the edge of your shorts. You sigh under his touch, and your own hand sets off on a little adventure — though it’s a short one, since it only gets as far as his cock. He smiles into the kiss, grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand away. A frustrated little growl escapes your lips, making him chuckle softly.

‘What happened? The way you were staring, I thought you were planning to cum on my thigh.”

He says with a smug grin, pushing you back slightly in his lap.

You lift your hips for just a moment, letting him slide your shorts and panties down. With the layers gone, the hardness of his thigh sends even more pleasure surging through you, pressing perfectly against your pulsing wetness.

‘Damn. You’d really ride anything I give you. Are you that desperate for me, Love?’ You don’t have the energy to huff at his words, because truly, you really are that desperate.

You must be quite the shameless sight, reaching down with one hand to part your outer lips just enough to grind your clit directly against him. You can’t say it isn’t a little embarrassing — but the arousal far outweighs the discomfort. You’re wet, of course you are, and every forward motion makes everything even slicker.

Sunghoon watches your little performance with amused, mischievous eyes. He’s already rock hard beneath his sweatpants, but watching you struggle, rubbing your swollen clit against his thigh like that, was just too entertaining to stop you.

‘Mhm, that’s it, baby. Make that dirty cunt cum over my pants.’

And you do.

SUNOO

Sunoo always has nerve-wracking punishments that make you question, time and time again, why you decide to piss him off in the first place.

Of course, not enough to stop you from doing it anyway.

Yet you haven’t even done a single thing wrong — you simply showed your own little cute, polite self when you returned the male waiter’s courteous smile at the restaurant.

Apparently, you can’t smile out of pure politeness anymore — you note out loud, after Sunoo makes you strip naked in front him. Your snarky comment only makes him roll his eyes. Of course even now, you can’t fucking shut up. Your smile instantly fades when he suddenly reaches between your legs, to press his palm onto your flesh. He scoffs at your reaction.

‘I’m scolding your nasty behaviour, and you’re fucking getting off on it?’ You stumble on your feet, and quickly take a hold of his shoulder as you shrug as an answer to his question. It wasn’t meant to be answered. Sunoo pulls back, leaning against the armchair he is sitting in. He is still fully dressed, in black denim pants, and now half-way unbuttoned white shirt. His flashed collarbone and chest, combined with the angry look on his face is simply delicious to your eyes. He pats his knees for you to sit, so you comply. Your first move is to lean onto his mouth, but he grabs your jaw and stops you.

‘I didn’t say you can kiss me’ You sigh. Alright, typical. Should’ve thought so. Your next go is at his crotch, but when he also yanks you back from there, you are left dumbfounded.

‘You’re really that stupid? You don’t get to have my mouth, dick, or fingers, baby’ Oh, okay. So this is the punishment this time.

‘So…what are we doing then?’ You sigh, biting your lip. You are needy, he literally stripped you down, and you are sitting in his lap. There’s no way he just wants to sit around and make you suffer…Right?

‘I didn’t tie your hands, did I? Get yourself off somehow, but do it without my help’ And his cock, mouth and fingers, as he said. As you think about what should you do, you shift on his legs, trying to get more comfortable, and now, you don’t know if he does on purpose or purely accidental, but his knee also adjusts in the same moment, and slides right under your core. And that’s more than enough to inspire you.

You rest your paws on his thigh, to steady yourself. You pull your hips back a little, so your pussy is just right in front of his knee, then push back. The sensation is immediate, though it’s a mix of strange and good. The fabric of his jeans is rough, obviously not meant to be, well, rubbed on, but it’s not like a flicker (or some more) of pain is not something you love in the first place. With the pace you settled on, the humping movement makes you whine, bumping your clit against the bones of his knee again and again. It’s still not enough though, Sunoo can see it very clearly on your face, hear it dripping through your pathetic little sounds.

There’s no warning before he holds your hips down, and moves his knee up. You whimper rather loudly, naked chest slumping against Sunoo’s, grabbing onto his arms.

‘S-sunoo, that hurts’

‘Hurts? You don’t want me to stop though, do you?’ He smirks, knowing the answer damn well is a desperate ‘no’.

His knee spreads your pussy apart as much as possible, the hardest part continously dragging up your slit and against your clit everytime he pushes up. You let out a hiss. Your lips, your slit, the entrance of your hole, your bundle of nerves…they’re all red and swollen puffy of the harsh material rubbing against you. You are almost crying, when you release over his clothes, your liquid dirtying his expensive jeans.

‘Thought this would be a good punishment, but of course you enjoyed it.’

JUNGWON

Jungwon’s family home had ridiculously thin walls, and it didn’t help that his parents’ bedroom was just two doors down.

Knowing all that, you probably shouldn’t have made out with the poor boy like crazy the first time you stayed over — but what’s done is done.

You pulled away before things could go too far, and now the two of you lie next to each other, breathing heavily.You turn over, as if not seeing his face might somehow calm the desire burning in you — or in him.You feel him shift too, the slow, deliberate way he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in the curve of your neck.You let out a relieved sigh, thinking maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fall asleep like this — in this soft, sweet little moment.

Then his hips move.

At first, you try to tell yourself he’s just shifting to get comfortable — but by the third slow grind, it’s hard to keep up that narrative.

‘Won. What are you doing?’ You tilt your head back slightly to look him in the eyes, whispering. The boy shakes his head while a delicate blush spreads across his cheeks.

‘I c-can’t help it. I need to feel you right now’ He says in a desperate tone, now grinding with intent against your ass.

You want him too, how could you not? You haven’t been able to do much since you got together yet, but the desire and chermisty is definietly there. You feel it everytime you meet, everytime you touch, everytime you look at him. Obviously, you’re not about to have sex now. It’s not the place or time to do it, but still…

You can’t say no.

You take a shaky breath. The fingers that were resting on his hand now travel further, stroking his arm that is wrapped around your middle. Not with the most confidence, though just as eager as him, you push back. Feeling his bulge press against your backside and thighs is not that new. But the impatient, hurried pace of it pressing onto you is, and you think it must be good for him.

Good, but is it enough?

You need more. You need his growing member on a place that is pulsing for him, unsure yet open at the same time.

The only thing you’re wearing are boxers and panties, so when you suddenly decide to turn on your other side, he’s not prepared to back up even a little bit, and his cock presses forward, but now onto your pussy, covered by the very thin layer of underwear. Your hand slaps on his mouth almost right way, to stifle the loud noise you know he’s about to make.

You keep one of your hands there, even when Jungwon rolls on top of you, to rub his leaking hardness harshly. He’s obviously frustrated, the layer of his briefs being the reason, since you have gotten so wet your panties almost make no difference in the process. He grunts, and frees his dick, reassuring you when he sees the doubtful look on your face.

‘I won’t do anything else. Just want to feel you better’

It’s messy. Full of pre-cum, slick, and slight sweat, a mix of fluids making the slide so hard. If he was inside, he would he in heaven now. He’s not though, and the slippery mess you have created together only makes his annoyence grow, his grip on you tighter, and the press of his hips unhuman, both in pace and strength.

If there was unresolved sexual tension between the two of you before, now there’s a whole bomb ticking for more.

RIKI

‘I had something in mind’ Is what you whisper into Riki’s mouth when you pull away to breath for a second.

At first, his brain doesn’t really register that you said something, and instead of an answer, he kisses you again. Making out with Riki is quite similar to a fever dream, you think. Relatively slow, but the intensity doesn’t lay in the pace he sets. It’s a nerve-wrecking build up of plump lips, firm hands and wetness.

Both of you like it sloppy.

You try to gently push him away by his chest, and he listens this time.

‘Yeah? What is it?’ He did listen at first too, he was just too into it.

You are not that embarassed to say it, of course. You and him make a couple who are both got a rather high sex drive, and Riki was certainly never afraid to voice his thoughts on new things you could try. You, on the other hand, might be a bit more shy to just blurt them out. You’re not ashamed of wanting it, but your boyfriend is so good at keeping that damn eyecontact, and that cocky smirk on his lips still, that you can’t help but get flustered at times like this.

‘It might be a little weird’

You tuck your hair behind your ears. The muscles of his face are already twitching, but he suprisingly manages to stay serious.

‘Weird to me? Or to you?’ His fingers stroke from your hips to the underside of your chest repeatedly, making it kinda hard to think.

‘To you. I think’ His expression turns amused, but he doesn’t comment anything else, looking forward to hear it finally.

‘I though I could like…you know. Your abs’ You don’t say the word ‘ride’. You don’t really want to, and you already have been grinding on his clothed cock, so the idea might give itself, hopefully.

‘You gotta be more specific than that, baby.’

Asshole.

‘Like…grind on it.”

He stills for a moment, shocked that you actually said that out loud. Then he nods, and peels his shirt of fin a swift motion. The perfect pattern of his abs are revealed to your eyes, your mouth runs dry at the sight. His broad shoulders, biceps, veiny forearms and hands…the well built six pack on his stomach is a perfect match to complete the beautiful man that he is.

He lays on his back on the couch, his upper body flexing in the movement. Since there was no question and he seemed to be on board, you decide not to give him any more chance to tease you, so without another word, you quickly shimmy your undies down, and straddle him.

Biggest beige flag?

‘When his abs are so well defined you can cum by rubbing your cunt on it’.

Yes, that’s pretty random yet you love it.

You have to part your outer lips to feel him, and he is quite mesmerized by the view he is blessed with.

‘Such a pretty pussy for me, hm?’

Now you are glad he is talking, his voice sends waves of pleasure through your body, and it all comes out in the form of your wetness gathering between your legs. You try your best to have a stable grip, but you keep on slipping on his abdomen. He huffs, grabbing your hips and fixing you. He starts to guide you, pressing you down so hard the only thing you can do is moan.

‘It’s a bit funny, no? You’re so needy for me. You want to ride everything I have’ He lets out a low chuckle. Your face turns red.

“And you let me do it. That makes you just as needy, no?’

He smiles, and drags you down for a kiss.

‘Not my fault I have such a freaky girl on me.’

bae @ziiao

[butyoudidthis4what]

Something Else (Perfumer Part 2)

Jack Abbot x Bratty f!Reader

6.8k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: NSFW, MDNI 18+, established relationship, dom!jack vibes, oral f receiving, mention of alcohol, biting, hickeys, manhandling, edging, stubble burn reference, spanking, unprotected PIV sex (birth control not discussed, but implied with the established relationship), age gap (reader 30ish, Jack mid/late 40s) but not mentioned, teasing, reader is a brat, like a really really big brat, no use of y/n or related, zero proofreading of any kind.

Summary: Continuation of Perfumer. Jack finally gets off shift and home to you. Bratty reader gets tamed.

AN: This feels like such an abrupt change of pace from No Man's Land which is where I have been living. It was just in my head and I needed to get it out. It's pretty much straight PWP which has historically been rare for me. I am quite nervous about posting this one because my smut writing feels so so so rusty and potentially not very great. So, I hope it's okay!

This is the look I picture him giving reader at the beginning!

Jack hears the quiet and slightly shuddery breath you take in at his words and can’t help but smirk. 

He likes this little game you guys play, likes when you’re a brat and he has to tame you and earn your submission. Likes when you start it subtly out in public.

Collins walks up to the opposite side of the desk around the same time you and Jack arrive. You share a brief moment of eye contact and then you scratch at your ear. You stop with Jack at the desk and stand close to him, close enough for your sides to touch. 

“Hey,” Collins calls your name to get your attention. You’ve become very close friends very fast. “I’m working with your man tonight, but I’m off tomorrow with some of the other girls and we were thinking of trying that new brunch place two blocks up once I’m off.” Jack’s head pops up and looks between you and Collins before settling back on you. “We figure somewhere between nine and eleven a.m. But McKay said she was happy to provide pregame mimosas at her place while you wait for me. She said she was fine with seven, good to stay on schedule.” 

 “That sounds so fun!” You nod at her, start walking over towards her, acutely aware of the way Jack tracks you as you do. “I’ve really been wanting to try that place! Probably makes the most sense for me to go over to McKay’s at seven if she’s going to be awake, just in case you actually get off on time for once.” 

Collins goes to speak again but Jack speaks first. “Don’t you already have plans?” 

You look back over at him confused. “No? Not unless I’m forgetting something.”

Subconsciously Jack moves his head towards you. “I think you are,” he nods. “Remember, we made plans.”

“Did we? When?” You go to say more but you’re interrupted by Collins laughter. “Heather!”

“I’m so sorry, the look on his face, I couldn’t help it!” She keeps laughing and it makes you laugh. 

“What?” Jack asks, clearly unamused. 

“We’re just screwing with you Jackie!” You giggle as you walk over to him. “We had a prearranged plan and signal to do this when I finally felt the time was right.” 

Jack blinks at you. “Did you now?” 

“Don’t pout.” You stick your lip out dramatically. “I have not forgotten our plans,” you assure him. You drop your voice for only the two of you to hear and run your hands over his chest, smoothing out his scrub top. “And I can assure you that I would never forget the kind of plans we have, nor would I ever take a rain check on them for some other offer.” 

“You’re a brat,” he replies lowly, an edge to his voice that makes another chill run up your spine. 

“You like it,” you whisper back to him before leaning up on your toes to give him a quick kiss. “Thank you, Heather!” You call out to her as she walks away and she just waves, still laughing to herself. “Have a great shift Dr. Abbot. Try not to have too much fun without me. Love you.” 

“Yeah, I love you too.” His eyes still track you as you walk backwards a little and wave at him before turning to walk out. “Hey,” he calls to you. You look back with your eyebrows raised in expectation. “Promises.”

You bite your lip and nod before turning again to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let yourself get some sleep while Jack works but make sure to set an alarm for 6:45 a.m. so that you can be up when he’s off. Or at least when he’s supposed to be off. Unsurprisingly, there’s no text from him at 7:00, but at 7:05 you get one. 

J – Probably going to be a few hours late.

You – No worries, me and my ankles will be here waiting patiently for your arrival home.

The next text comes at 10:07 a.m.

J – You up?

You – Of course. Just freshened up the ankles for you, loverboy.

You can practically see his eyes rolling from here, but you know he likes it. 

J – You will not like what will happen if you are not on the bed naked and waiting when I get home. 

You – That another promise, Jackie?

At that one you can just picture the way he clenched his jaw as he got in his car. You’re not surprised when you don’t get an answer. 

You do as he asks though. Kind of. 

You shut the bedroom door and strip, and then you put on what you think are one of the sexiest pairs of panties you own. 

You walk over to your shared bed and lay down, propping yourself up with a pillow just enough that you can make eye contact with anyone who walks through the door. 

You let your hand drift lower and lower until your fingers brush over your clit on top of the fabric. He hadn’t given you permission, hadn’t told you to even start getting yourself ready for him. You keep touching yourself, let your fingers rub circles over your clit, use the fabric rubbing against you as a new sensation, all the while thinking of what he’s going to do to you when he gets home. 

Your panties are noticeably wet by the time you hear the front door open, fingers sticky with your arousal despite having stayed on top of the fabric the whole time. 

Jack can feel himself starting to fill out again as he reads how you freshened up your ankles for him. You’ve pushed him today. But he needs it. He thrives on it, almost always, on taming you. On pushing you to the edge of your limits. On earning your submission.  

The drive is mercifully traffic free. He steps into your place, locks the door behind him and just drops his backpack on the floor. Doesn’t put it aside in its usual spot. Doesn’t hang his coat up on one of the hooks. Doesn’t call out for you. 

His coat lands wherever it finally falls off him as he stalks through the house towards your room. His shirt meets the same fate, landing not far from the bedroom door. He’s already fully hard by the time his hand hits the doorknob and pushes open your bedroom door. 

In retrospect he’s not sure why it wasn’t, but the sight of you on the bed, looking right at him, almost totally naked and rubbing your clit over your panties was not what he expected to see when he opened the door. He didn’t expect to hear your soft panting and the softest and most breathy moan of his name. Jack. He tries not to let you see how it gets to him, how you get to him but he knows you’ll see the clench of his jaw and flare of his nostrils. You’re a sight. The most beautiful and erotic one he’s ever seen. 

You bite your lip at him, fight to keep the smirk off your face, but don’t stop. After locking eyes with him for a moment you let your eyes move from his and trail all over his chest and abdomen and arms. And the now very prominent bulge in his scrub pants. He’s too handsome. He burns you sometimes you swear, just by standing there shirtless and silent with that stoic face of his and that jaw and those eyes that ever so slightly tell you just how affected he is. 

Wordlessly Jack steps further into the room and shuts the door before looking back at you. Silence like this always means something with him. Means he’s sexually frustrated and annoyed with you. Means he’s ready to tame. The way he cocks his head just slightly, though, is a silent challenge.  

“It’s funny, sweetheart. I don’t remember my text saying anything about you being allowed to touch yourself and distinctly remember it telling you to be naked on the bed.” His voice is too calm, too composed. He has too much control over himself, it drives you insane sometimes.

“Well,” you sigh softly, roll your hips a bit as you keep circling your clit, “the text didn’t say not to touch myself.” You take a second to let out a few more moans, another of his name, lick your lips. “And technically I’m not really touching myself. The fabric is touching me, there’s been no skin on skin, Jackie,” you smirk at him. 

Jack clenches his jaw and lets out a short hummed laugh. He doesn’t say anything though. He just takes his scrub pants off, tosses them in the corner and looks back at you in just his boxer briefs.  

He stalks closer to the bed, closer to you. “You think you’re real fuckin’ cute, don’t you?”

“Are you saying I’m not?” You pout just a little too cloyingly and he knows you’re still trying to fuck with him. 

“That’s not an answer.” A little jaw clench there. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, finally take your fingers away from yourself and up to your mouth, sucking them clean before releasing them. “Well it’s the only one you’re going to get.” 

“That so?” 

He can be so quick when he wants to be and before his question has fully hit you and you can start thinking of some bratty reply he’s leant over the center of the foot of the bed enough to grab your ankles and pull you down the bed. It’s so unexpected you yelp, but not in pain. He’s a doctor, he knows just where to grab to not pull too much on your hip or ankle. “Well that wasn’t a very bratty noise now, was it sweetheart?”

He pulls you by the hips now so that your ass is at the edge of the bed, rips your panties down and off you. Before you can wrap your legs around his waist he catches them, holds them up parallel to his body in front of him, but spread just enough for him to stand in between them. It gives him the perfect view of your pussy, glistening and on display for him. You see his eyes slip down to take you in before he drags them back to yours. He holds your eye contact as he moves his face towards one of your ankles and breaks your gaze just as the side of his face starts to brush your inner calf. 

Jack turns his face completely and you can see him hold his breath while he gives you just a little check in, a quick kiss to the inside of your ankle. And then he takes a deep breath through his nose. 

His head snaps back to look at you, pupils blown as wide as they can be, jaw clenched and rolling with the subtlest twitch under his eye for a second that only you would notice. His hands grip your legs tighter, tight enough to hurt just a little. Anyone else might think he was looking at you with controlled but raging anger. 

But you know that it’s a look of primal, possessive need, that Jack’s on fire for you, all searing skin and simmering blood and deep panting breaths. You know that his cock hurts as it strains against the fabric of his boxer briefs because he needs you so viscerally.

There’s another glance down at your pussy again as you hum saccharinely. His eyes snap back to yours. The slowest smirk pulls across your face as you hold his gaze, your eyes smoldering at him. For him. 

“Just thought you might like a little reminder of what’s yours, that’s all.”

Jack’s chest heaves just a little harder at your words and his eyes narrow slightly before pulling from yours and traveling down your body to take in you, all on display for him as he decides just what it is he wants to do with you.  

His cologne. 

His cologne is what you sprayed on your ankles. His cologne with just enough of a hint of your perfume coming through behind it so that it smells like you do after sex when he’s owned you, touched you so much and held you so close and fucked you so hard and so deep that the dewy sweat of your skin has evaporated much but not quite all of your perfume away and his cologne has stuck to you, marking you as his.

He’s still silent. Not brooding like he does sometimes. He’s just thinking. Just using the silence to toy with you and make you wait. Something about that makes you shiver. 

And Jack thinks he has you at that shiver. Keeps silent. Keeps looking at your body, especially your cunt. Keeps waiting for you to be the one to break and speak first. And you will be. 

But Jack thinks he has you and you saw it in a quick sweep of his eyes over your face at your shiver and you simply can’t have that. Not yet. 

“What’s wrong, Jackie?” You break the silence and give the smallest pout before your smirk comes back. “Pussy got your tongue?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, a slow smirk matching your own pulling up. He laughs a little. It’s a little more dangerous than if he hadn’t reacted because of how controlled it is, how it shows how much control he still has left. “Cute,” he nods at you as he caresses your ankles, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’re cute when you’re a brat.” 

“I try-” You’re cut off by him suddenly bending your legs at the knee and pushing them towards you as he moves closer to the bed, drops to his knees on the carpet. He rests your feet on his shoulder, leaving your ankles right there for the fragrance to perfume the air. 

He takes in another long breath through his nose and you swear you can hear him growl before soft kisses are being placed up your inner thigh. Instead of moving inward though Jack kisses outward, along the inner line where your hip and thigh meet. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t spray anything here for me to find,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses back towards where you’re desperate for him. 

“I considered it.” The words come out a little breathless as he gets closer and closer to your center. “But decided against it because then I would’ve had to listen to you bitch about not being able to smell me.”

Jack bites your inner thigh only a few inches away from your cunt and sucks, hard. Hard enough to leave imprints of his teeth, to suck a developing bruise into your skin. As he does so his stubble rubs lightly across your lips, breath hitching and hips twitching as you fight yourself to keep them down and not give him the satisfaction. 

He releases your thigh. “I don’t bitch,” he says nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. As though he hasn’t noticed his face is an inch and a half away from your pussy. 

“Yes you-” You’re cut off with a gasp as Jack’s tongue licks up you cunt to clit. Your head falls back onto the pillow without a thought as the sensation of his tongue overwhelms you. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he pulls away from you for just a second, “were you saying something?”

He renders you unable to answer by giving you another lick before using the tip of his tongue to trace lazy figure-eights around your clit. His tongue drops down again and he leans into you, sucks at as much of you as he can before going up to focus on your clit, taking it between his lips and sucking, but leaving just enough space to not get a complete seal so it doesn’t feel quite as good as it could. 

You whine softly about it because Jack’s eaten you out and sucked at your clit enough times for you to know how it normally feels, that he’s fucking insanely talented at it and that he never slips like this. So you know he’s doing it deliberately. 

He gives a little grunt against you to say fine, if you’re so unhappy with it he’ll go elsewhere, and the vibrations of it as he sucks and pulls away from your clit make your hips jolt. Jack’s hands immediately come up and hold your hips down, hands strong and warm and so big as he presses his fingertips down into your skin. 

Jack trails his tongue down, teasingly traces circles around your entrance as he basks in the little mewls you make for him. His cock throbs hard against the fabric of his boxer briefs and he gives the slightest groan about it. 

As quickly as his tongue dropped down to tease you it pushes inside of you and you moan, louder than you want to for him right now. Jack’s stubble rubs against your inner thighs as he tongue fucks you a few times and then pulls out, fingers squeezing your hips harder when you whine about it. 

His lips move back up to your clit and suck again, but this time the seal of them is tight around you, his tongue flicking little circles against you in his mouth. It steals your breath for a second as your back arches while your hips remain pinned to the bed by his hands. “Oh, Jack!” The moan is quiet, clearly slipping out of your lips unconsciously. Your hands fist the sheets hard before unclenching and starting to move down to his salt and pepper curls.

Jack isn’t looking at you, he has his eyes closed as he focuses on you and the little noises you’re making for him but that you’re trying to hide and how you taste and how you smell and how hot your pussy is on his skin, chin coated in you. But he doesn’t need to be looking to know your next move. 

He suddenly pulls his face from you. “Don’t even fucking try it or we’ll end this right here, right now and I’ll go fuck my fist in the shower.”

You freeze for a second and then pull your hands back up and twist at the sheets again, give him a huff. 

Jack takes the few seconds he’s pulled away from you to move his hands from your hips and push his boxer briefs down, freeing himself. He gives a little groan of relief when his hand wraps around him and tugs a few times. You’re already a little too fucked out to really notice.

He lets his hand stay there as he brings his face back to your cunt, starts licking and sucking again. He fucks his fist as he devours you whole, needs the relief even as a piece of him mourns the fact that it’s his hand and not your hand or your mouth or your cunt. 

Jack builds a pattern with his tongue, repeats it over and over as you writhe for him against the sheets, as you give him sweet little moan after moan until you’re finally moaning his name loudly. Pleasure courses through you and heat roils in your lower belly as your muscles contract tighter and tighter and Jack works you closer and closer. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pant out “just like that Jack, just like that, fuck!”

And then he changes his pattern. You let out a vaguely frustrated sigh, but can’t stay true to it because the new pattern is just as good. You can feel him smirk against you at your sigh, move his face just a little so that his stubble scratches into you a little harder, starts to etch into your skin. 

Jack touches himself faster and faster as he licks and sucks at you, paying attention to how close he is and how close you are. The grunts and groans he pulls from himself send shivers through you and drive you that much closer to the edge. Your mind is so pleasure hazy you don’t even think to question why he’s making them. 

Once he gets himself right to the edge he slows down, is more absentminded with himself as he doubles down on you, pushes you right up to that same ledge with his tongue and mouth. He can feel your toes curl against him as you get a second away from the point of no return. 

You already know what’s going to happen but it doesn’t help, doesn’t make it easier to weather when he rips himself away from you. “No!” You cry it out for him despite yourself, despite wanting to appear unaffected. 

Jack laughs darkly. “You know only good girls get to cum, babygirl.”

You huff slightly, lay there panting with your eyes closed as you try and ride out your almost orgasm, hear Jack stand up. He lets one of your legs fall gently and holds the other up against his chest by your calf. So you wait for him. For whatever is next.  

You don’t expect the way he runs the palm of his hand through you though, the way he curls his fingers to drag up you in a way to collect as much of the arousal he’s pulled from you on his hand as possible. “Fuck, Jack!”

Your eyes fly open at you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him. The sight of him wrapping his slicked up palm and fingers around himself and starting to fuck his fist is unexpected but anything but unwelcome. 

“This could be, you know.” His voice is low, followed by a few low pants as he touches himself. “This should be you.” He lets his hand that’s holding your calf adjust your leg so that he can turn his head and breathe in through his nose at your upper ankle, let the smell of him owning you course through him. His head turns back and his eyes find yours. He stares at you with that same intensity from earlier but this time it’s glazed with an even heavier lust. “I should be in your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt,” he growls at you. “But am I?”

Though an obvious answer, it’s not a rhetorical question. He expects an answer. Expects you to acknowledge and think about how he’s not in your hand or your mouth or your cunt. You stare at him, can hear your heart beating in your ears, pussy growing wetter and mouth salivating at the thought. You just can’t help yourself though. 

“Well if you have to ask Jackie…” You give him a little shrug. 

“God, fuck!” Jack groans, voice strained as he aims his cock at you and comes all over your pussy and lower abdomen. He works himself through it, chest heaving, glistening with sweat and flushed as he slows his hand and releases himself. “You’re fucking pushing it,” he almost laughs, but it’s more an observation he happens to find entertaining. 

He stares at his cum that sticks so prettily to your skin and pussy, claiming you just for him as he lets himself come down from his orgasm. “You look so beautiful like his,” he murmurs lowly, voice huskier than normal. “Covered in me.”

Before you can say anything he looks away from you and grabs the panties you were wearing, uses them to clean you off and sits you up. It surprises you a little, that he’s so eager to wipe it away. But then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. 

He shows you again just how quick he can be, and you’re yelping again at the suddenness of finding yourself bent over his knees with his palm caressing one of your ass cheeks. There’s no build up. There doesn’t need to be. You know why you’re in this position. 

“Count.” It’s an order.

“Or what? You’ll spank me?”

He does, obviously. It’s a little harder than he had been planning the first one to be just because of the extra attitude, the smacking sound a little sharper. Another one to the other cheek follows swiftly. He can feel you squirm on him and hear the softest moan that just makes it through your lips into the air despite your otherwise lack of reaction. 

There’s a pause as he waits. Waits for you to say one. Two. 

“I distinctly remember telling you to count.” His voice is still so composed even with as low in pitch as it drops.

“I am!” You huff at him. He squeezes at one of your cheeks where his hand just came down. “I am!” You repeat, doing your best to sound indignant which is difficult given the position you find yourself in. “In my head.” You feel his entire body tense. “What? You just said count. Not count out loud.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He’s quite certain he hears you giggle about it. There’s some part of him that’s a little proud of you for this little display. He shifts his legs a little, spreads them just a bit and runs his hand over your cheek and under you to pinch your clit. Not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you jolt and let out another pretty little moan for him. You can feel him start to get hard again against your thigh. 

“Outloud.”

Another little giggle. 

“Sir, yes sir.” 

He’s good at spanking, you have to give him that. He gives you ten in total, five to each cheek. He doesn’t alternate every time, brings his hand down in quick succession sometimes and makes you wait torturously for it to come back down at others, varies the pressure and how hard he brings his hand down against you, where he brings it down. 

By the time he’s done tears sting at your eyes as your ass throbs, burning and sore and stinging in its own right. 

“Good girl.” It’s low, breathed out more than actually spoken as he leans you back up, but you’re still able to hear it. The part of your brain that wants to be a brat feels betrayed by the part that glows at his praise and approval and sends warm happiness flowing through you. 

“Center of the bed. On your stomach.” For once this morning you actually do as he asks, crawl your way to the center of the bed and lay on your stomach as he takes his prosthetic off and crawls up in between your legs. 

You rest your head on its side, look back at him as much as you can. His eyes run over your ass as his hands grab your hips and haul you up to your knees. You go to push yourself up on your hands or elbows but all too quickly his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pushes you back down wordlessly. 

With his other hand he gets himself lined up with you and pushes inside you slowly, cognizant that while he’s already edged you and gotten you nearly dripping for him, only his tongue has been inside you, no fingers to help prep you. You whimper but Jack knows you well enough to know that its not from physical pain but rather from how slowly he’s sliding into you. 

As he bottoms out Jack closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, a little shaky because fuck do you feel good and fuck has he been waiting to be buried inside you since you showed up at the Pitt. 

He pulls out of you slowly, lets you feel every ridge and vein of him before he snaps his hips hard to get himself back inside of you. 

“Ohh,” you moan out, “Jack, fuck.” He does it again, pulls out torturously slow and snaps back in. 

“You want more baby?” He says as saccharine and teasing as you’d spoken to him when he got home. He pulls out a little faster this time, moves his hand from your neck and uses both hands to help pull you back onto him so he can fuck you even harder. 

You immediately go to get up on your elbows again. “Stay down,” Jack warns, curling over you a little and using his hand to guide you back down. It changes the angle, makes him slide deeper inside of you which draws a moan from you and an erratic buck of his hips as he chases the feeling. 

“But I can’t see you like this,” you pout, breathing heavily. 

“Brats don’t get to see,” Jack grunts out, leans back up and returns both hands to your hips so that he can return to fucking you harder. 

You take in a couple of panted breaths, tilt your head at an awkward angle for a second to see a little more of him. You know he sees you do it. Somehow you manage to smile at him. 

“You’re cute when you’re all worked up.” You mirror his words from earlier back to him and manage the smallest smirk before turning your head back to a neutral position. 

Jack lets out a quick scoff. “You’re really fucking something else today.” Jack slides his hands up a little and pushes down, forcing your ass to come up higher for him, again letting him get deeper and hit harder with the added bonus of keeping your head on the mattress. He watches your hands curl in the sheets as he rails you.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. 

He snarks a laugh at how you don’t have to be given that instruction twice, hand sliding between your legs and rubbing erratically at your clit as your brain starts to get pleasure drunk off his cock.  

Neither of you speak for a bit, not real words. It’s just the sounds of your panting and the moans and groans you pull from each other and the slap of skin on skin. You’re the first to break.

“Oh god! Jack!” You mewl as the pleasure starts to overtake you. He can hear and feel how close you are.

“Stop touching yourself.” Another order. You falter on this one, like you knew he would. So he stops, removes your hand himself.

Another orgasm ebbs away from you. 

You whine but do your damndest to remain unaffected, to try not to show how desperate you’re getting. But your whine has just enough of a desperate edge to it to let Jack know he almost has you. 

“What was it you said again?” He starts rubbing your clit. “Oh yes, I remember. The anticipation and wait makes it better.” He gives another dark laugh as he starts fucking you again, just as hard and just as intense. 

“Oh fuck Jack!” You gasp out. He hadn’t given you much come down time and so you feel your orgasm cresting again quickly. 

“Close, baby?” He asks like he doesn’t already know by the feel of your cunt around him. 

You can only nod as the pleasure grows stronger and stronger, your breaths coming harder and harder as you moan nonsense to Jack. 

“Jack!” You draw his name out in a moaned whine. “Need to come. Need to.” Your speech is a little slurred now. 

“Brats don’t get to come.” It’s nearly mocking the way he says it. Cocky. Like he knows he has you now. Because he does. He knows how close you are. His pace doesn’t relent. He speaks through the panting breaths he takes. “And what are you sweetheart?” 

“A brat.” You look back up at him with watery eyes and a real pout this time, on the verge of tears of pleasure. “Please-

“You still think you’re real fuckin’ cute?” he pants, cutting you off. 

“No, I’m sorry, please Jack, Sir, I,” a few tears slide down your face. “I want to be good for you.” You’re so ready for it, so convinced he’s going to let you have it now. 

But Jack stops and pulls out of you and you let out a little sob as more tears fall.  

“Shh, shh, shh,” he shushes you softly as he flips you over so you’re on your back. “I’ve got you.”

He pushes back inside you, grabs your calves and throws one over his shoulder, takes his time with the other as he lets himself take in a deep breath through his nose at your inner ankle and lets out what sounds like a growl from the deep within his chest before settling it on him like the other. His fingers on one hand toy with your clit as he leans over you and grinds himself into you. With how worked up and sensitive you are and the sound he just made for you it’s all you need and he finally lets you have it. 

Your orgasm shatters you. You swear you lose hearing for a minute, lose the ability to breathe and that your vision goes white 

“There she is,” Jack drawls, “there’s my good girl.” He moves his hand and stills his hips, let his hands grope at your breasts, fingers gently teasing at your nipples. 

You pant hard as you try to reorient yourself, finally get your eyes back open and look up at Jack. 

“Jack,” your breathing starts to return to normal. “Please,” you breathe. 

He moves your legs off his shoulders and helps you wrap them around his waist, lowers himself down so that your chests touch. “Please gets you what you want, doesn’t it sweetheart?” He leans his head into your neck and starts kissing you there, soft teasing things. 

“Yes.” It’s just as breathless as your please and something about it drives Jack wild. You let one arm slip under his shoulder and bend up to cling to his back as much as you can, the other staying above his shoulder so that your hand can find his hair, let your fingers run through it.

Jack starts fucking you again, hard. He puts his whole body into it, arching his back and using his knees for leverage to help his thighs and hips drive into you over and over. He keeps kissing your neck, sucks at it, nibbles at the spots he knows are most sensitive. 

“Oh Jack!” You arch up into him. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” He feels too good, fucks you too good. It’s unreal. 

You hear him grunt low from deep in his chest and it makes you shiver, let out a whine. “I love the way you say my name when you’re like this. Fucked out and cock drunk.” 

Jack’s voice reveals he’s just as drunk on your pussy as you are his cock.

It rips through you out of seemingly nowhere at his words, your second orgasm, just as good as your first but deeper, more intense in the way it feels like your muscles contract so hard all your bones will snap before they release with a rush of pleasure that makes you arch into Jack again. 

His name slips off your tongue in a moaned prayer again. “Jack, Jack, Jack.”

“You sound so pretty when you come for me.” He kisses at your jaw, down your neck, sucks at your collarbone while he fucks you through it.

Jack moves his hand, slows his hips to give you a little bit of time to recover. You whimper through your tears of pleasure. He’s not chasing his own release. 

Because he’s not done with you yet.

He picks the pace of his hips back up and you moan for him, claw at his back and scalp. He knows it’s not going to take much to get you there a third time with how sensitive you are, right on the border of pleasurable and painful overstimulation.

“You’ve got one more in you for me, sweetheart, I know you do.”

You shake your head at him. “I can’t.” You sniffle and he leans in to kiss away your tears. You say that you can’t but you trust Jack to know your body more in this moment than you do, trust that he won’t push you too far, only right to your limit before bringing you back. “It’s too much Jack!” You keen as his fingers return to rub tight circles over your clit again.

“No babygirl,” Jack finally kisses you, licks into your mouth possessively and moans just as loud for you as you do for him, breaks the kiss but hovers his lips over yours so they brush against each other when he speaks, “it’s just enough.” 

Your orgasm crashes over you just as he finishes his sentence, white hot and searing. Your hands tug hard at his salt and pepper curls as you go soundless from how hard your coming, almost holding your breath as the pleasure completely takes over. Your ability to speak suddenly comes back and you let out the most erotic moan of Jack’s name that he’s ever heard.

Your cunt clenching around him, the sharp burst of pleasured pain from how hard you tug on his hair and that moan of his name are all Jack needs. He follows you, coming with a groan of your name that’s so choked and even more gravelly than his usual voice that you think for a second it might make you come again. He keeps moving his hips somehow, fucking himself through it to try and keep the feeling from ending.

“Fucking christ,” Jack groans as his hips still, propping himself up on his elbows and panting as he looks down at you. “You okay?” You’re smiling at him, eyes completely glazed over, but you nod. He knows that right now you are. It makes him smile back at you. He takes another couple of seconds to even his breathing out before kissing your cheeks and nose and forehead and chin and then your lips to bring you back down. “You. Are. So. Fucking. Perfect.” He punctuates each word with a kiss.  

You blink at him, eyes a bit clearer. So he asks again. “Hi beautiful,” he smiles down at you amusedly, “you okay?”

You come back to yourself a little more and that’s when the trembling starts as you reconnect your mind and body enough for the dump of hormones and adrenaline to hit you, your body struggling to figure out what to do with all the pleasure. “Ohhh,” you sigh out, voice a a bit shaky, “I am so much more than okay, Jack. I’m trying to figure out what layer of the fucking stratosphere you just sent me to and how I get back down,” you laugh softly. 

Jack returns the soft laugh. “Good. Water now?” You shake your head, not ready for it yet. He gives you another kiss that you return and then lowers himself on top of you. He knows his body weight and the skin on skin helps with the trembling and reorientation. You wrap your arms around him, let one hand play in his curls while the other rubs up and down his back absentmindedly. Jack feels when you stop trembling and relax.

“You did amazing sweetheart, I’m proud of you. That was a lot.” He leans back up for another kiss and you beam at him, glowing in the warmth of his body and praise. 

“Thank you,” you murmur against his lips. A beat passes. “I really got you twice there with the ankles, once at work and once with the cologne.” 

Jack snorts a laugh and buries his face in your chest. “You really are something else, you know that?” He peers up at you and the only thing you see is a man hopelessly in love with you and not afraid to show you. 

“I do.” You nod with a smirk, almost smug about it. “But I’m your something else.” You grin at him. 

Jack laughs. In a few moments he’ll ask you if you’re okay again, pull a pair of pajama pants on, put on his prosthetic and walk around shirtless to get you water without asking and probably a snack. He’ll ask if you want a bath or shower and when you say no this time he’ll rub some of the salve you have on your ass to help soothe where he spanked you. And then after his twelve plus a few hours shift followed by fucking you out of your mind he’ll ask if you’re okay if he grabs some sleep, as if you’d ever say no and won’t be half asleep yourself from the fucking he just gave you when he asks. But for now he just agrees with you. “You’re correct sweetheart,” he nods, “you’re my something else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hopefully it was okay?

Thank you so much for reading!! Let me know your thoughts, comments etc! Liking, replying and reblogging is so so appreciated! Requests are open and I love chatting!

If you'd like to be added to my Jack Abbot taglist please message me!

If you asked to be tagged and were not, please shoot me a message! I think it should work this time but I do not trust tumblr! If it doesn't please bear with me while I get it sorted. Thank you!

Taglist: I'm so sorry we went straight from No Man's Land to pure smut, that will be an incredible rarity here. Like this is very well likely to be the only time.

@yxtkiwiyxt @viridian-dagger @generalstarlightobject @andabuttonnose @beebeechaos @pear-1206 @starkgaryan @travelingmypassion @marvelcasey05 @millenialcatlady @loveyhoneydovey @rocker-chick-7 @mayabbot @taylorswifts-cardigan @phernandez2001 @sammiib444 @livinthevidaloca-ish @morallygreymaniac @woodxtock @shaydawgsblog @deadneverlander @imonlyhereformemes14-blog @sleepingalways @thelightnessofthebeing @generalstarlightobject @dudewithastick @thatoneawesomechicka @rebeccasaurusrex @mc-bbeth @compressoexpresso @evermoresivy @beebeechaos @loverofmusic @pastelbunnelby @literaryslapshot @sweetdayme4427 @joko-00 @phoenixhalliwell @chaotichurricaneoffandoms @chillicrackers @cosmoscoffeee @melancholicstation @scrappybear89 @xxemmarldxx @lm-lg-4ever @margoniezniez @diamond-gardens @keileighr @nobiggiebabe @a-stari-night

[lunarxcity]

Why Pretend? (Part X to Why Me?)

Azriel x rhys sister! reader!

angst/eventual comfort (A little bit of fluff a little bit of angst because nothing in life is free)

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, and IX if you missed them!

-

Azriel has a shadow and while he is accustomed to having many shadows the shadow he is referring to is not his. It follows him around constantly, not offering him even a second's respite. He shadow is on his heels at all time and unlike the elusive nature of his shadows this one was corporal.

The shadow he is referring to is the pet fox you had recieved from Eris of course. Whenever you were busy or not home the fox would follow Azriel around like a lost puppy which in some sense it was. It was fun at first but it was starting to get on his nerves, the fox followed him everywhere. He means everywhere.

At one point he was doing his paperwork and had looked away for a second and when he looked back the fox was gnawing on his pen. The pen was still in his hand. Another time they had came inside the bathroom and had just stared at him while he took a bath which was uncomfortable at the least and creepy at the most.

But it wasn't permanent; whenever you would come home the fox would run excitedly to you, it's owner and you would excitedly sweep him up in your arms littering his head in kisses. Azriel cannot believe that he is jealous of a cauldrons-damned fox and he believed that the fox knew it too, always staring at him with his sly foxy smile as you held him and gave him all your attention.

Azriel sulked over his bitterness towards the fox for a few days until he redeemed himself by hissing at Eris and trying to bite his hand. Azriel had snuck him some of the steak from the previous night's dinner as a reward ad he considered that truce enough.

Azriel hadn't properly spoken to you since the fateful night in your room, where in his sleepy jealousy-addled mind he had thought boisterously flirting with you the way that Eris or Cassian would could be the way that he could sway your affections. He was so jealous that he thought he could out-Eris Eris at his own game and it backfired, horribly.

He not only made a fool of himself, but had actually worried you. Instead of swooning over his flirty words, you had instead became worried thinking he had been going mad. He didn't know whether to apologise to you or to pretend like it had never happened, but it didn't matter because he had barely seen you this past week.

You had constantly been with Nesta and the rest your book club or with Madja working or showing Eris and Lucien around Velaris. He's also pretty sure he saw Rhys and Feyre sneaking out to breakfast with you. At this point you were regularly hanging out with everyone except for him, he even saw you having tea and biscuits with Elain, Mor, and Amren. You were spending more time with Amren than him.

Whenever he would catch you he would ask to properly make plans and talk, but you had brushed him off every day this week with a different excuse. First, it was busy, then it was you already had plans, by the time you hit the seventh excuse and said that your fox was attention depraved and needed one-on-one bonding time it was getting ridiculous.

Everything should have been fine between the two of you, so why were you ignoring him. He doesn't think it's the remarks he made because your sleep-addled brain was likely not processing anything as much as he had been. He knows you get cranky when you're woken up, and you're so focused on complaining that you're tired that you can't fully process anything going on around you. He found it adorable, actually.

So Azriel sat on one of the living room sofas and continued to interrogate the fox.

"Okay so blink twice if she's upset with me again and sneeze if she isn't."

The fox looked at him deadpan. At this point he was judging Azriel too and who could blame him.

Time passed and the fox continued to blink, unaffected by the words of the shadowsinger.

"AHA! I KNEW IT-"

Azriel stood up so quickly that he had lost his balance and toppled over the couch.

"Introducing the most feared warrior in all of prythian. Asking animals for love advice and toppling over couches, be afraid."

Cassian was cackling and Azriel was looking up at him deadpan from his position on the floor. This only made Cassian laugh more which led to him spilling his drink all over the floor.

Nesta walked in holding a rag like she was already anticipating this was going to happen. "Why are you acting like this is a new thing you haven't heard Azriel talk to him yet?" She points to the fox.

Cassian's face goes straight and then he erupts in laughter clutching his stomach and bending over unable to catch his breath.

"Mother help me." She throws the rag over his face and went over to help Azriel up.

-

Lately, you've felt like you're being followed. You can't escape the feeling of being watched, you swear there are phantom eyes peering over your shoulder anytime you leave the house of wind.

If you had known any better, you would say that you're being followed, but you have a feeling you already know who the perpetrator is, and you would rather accept ignorance's comfort than deal with the burden of truth.

Truth would be a blow taken to the walls you have built up; one that could be strong enough to tumble them completely. Your defenses have been lowered since your emotionally charged discussion with Azriel, but he wasn't deserving of your unyielding attention anymore.

You didn't even want to give him half of it. The idea that he would only now start becoming drawn to you because of this bond that he knows nothing about is a bitter poison, just like the one you are currently infecting the plant on your desk with.

The plant sits on one of Madja's dark oak working desks in the back of her office adjacent to the vials of mysterious glowing neon liquids boiling on burners with different colored flames. The liquid you're working with is a dark purple boiling on a flame of pink.

You need to infect the plant with a mercurial disease, one that slowly drains its life force, only showing external signs of danger when it's teetering on the brink.

You will then try to heal it back to health with one of the various bubbling potions and elixirs you have been working on. Open books were strewn everywhere accompanied by the quills scattered from your note taking.

Black ink spilled on empty pages eerily reminding you of the spies lurking in all the corners of the room, likely reporting your movements back to your alleged stalker.

You knew that they were spying on you from the difference in how the shadow he gave you behaves and the shadows he sent. Although they are scattered in the room, you could recognise where the shadows hide. You look at the potted tree that sits in front of one the bookshelves and see that the shadows are a bit darker than usual and that they are a bit sharper. The movements are calculated and rigid and you know those shadows are on duty.

You try and go back to your work. You've been ignoring the owner of the shadows lately your confrontation took a toll on you and you just didn't want to deal with him.

You've been getting to work early and staying late, Madja doesn't know whether to be impressed or concerned. Every time you try to evade him the Mother always has another plan.

It started when you misplaced a vial that you had been brewing all day of a possible healing potion. Exhaustion and frustration had taken a toll on you and tears began brimming in your eyes when you saw the vial rolling towards you on the ground.

Since then random things have began appearing, always in your aid. Random baked goods you've been known to like, caffeinated beverages during your afternoon slump, misplaced items being mysteriously found, and even a bowl of steaming soup one day when you forgot to eat.

Confronting who is behind this would lead to a lot more confrontations that you just weren't ready to face and let's face it you were so tired that it was a huge help.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for looking forward to the ministrations of your little helpers and you told yourself that if you told him you would be giving him the satisfaction, so you would continue to pretend like you don't notice.

At this point you were fighting a ghost; the push and pull of your feelings towards the shadowsinger were something that had been brewing inside of you and while you had partially aired it out there was a lot more brewing under the surface.

You looked back at the plant, the vivid green colour had begun to slowly fade, and you knew that the toxin had begun to take effect. Just a few more minutes and then you could start experimenting with your various potions.

You had been there since the morning and had lost track of how many hours it had been since sunset. Madja and her apprentices had all left hours ago, leaving you muttering to yourself in her study. You looked more mad scientist than healer, and you knew that if anyone saw your current state, they would be very alarmed and slightly terrified.

When you focused on something, it consumes you; the mere thought of it takes over your mind until you can only focus on that one thing, and right now it was your research. You've heard rumours of a disease spreading throughout Prythian, one that is immune to healing magic due to its degenerative nature.

Your head began to spin. How long had it been since you've eaten? It must have been a little while, but it must have been longer since the last time you had felt the fresh air on your skin.

You sat down on one of the chairs and put your head in your hands, hoping that it would offer you some respite from the sudden onslaught of dizziness.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Did one of the apprentices leave something behind?

"Come in." You try to say as normal as possible, but even that comes out weary like the exhaustion has even worn down your vocal cords.

You feel him before you see him, cobalt siphons glowing under the darkness of night. Wings tucked in and hazel eyes twinkling with the reflection of the stars that shimmered on the hilt of the weapons he bore. A warrior in a place of healing. A destructor in a place meant to fix and heal.

The glow of the candlelight made him look softer; the lines of his face were much less harsh in this light and even his shadows looked less sharp. He almost looked at place in the warm golden golden light surrounded by life and knowledge, you swore the shadows cast by the plants and books had almost turned towards him beckoned by his call.

Right now, he wasn't the terrifying shadow of a warrior's blade, perfectly honed for destruction and so sharp you could barely see it. He was the sun's shadow at dawn, the respite after a long, cold night, lazily stretching out over the horizon. He was the shadow that children play with, the one you find comfort in when your truly alone.

He approached you carefully, like you would run away from him screaming if he got too close. He placed a bag on the table next to you and knelt in front of you.

Picking up your head from your hands, he looks you in your eyes, scanning your face to see what's wrong. His cold gloves are a relief on your warm skin and you begin to close your eyes exhuastion taking over.

"Hey hey. Stay with me now." The words quickly leave his lips and you look up remembering where you are and who your with.

He pulls out something from his bag and hands it to you. Bringing it to your lips you drink what appears to be some sort of enchanted water meant to enhance hydration. Madja must have put him up to this.

He leaves you for a moment to collect yourself, you can't even form words at the point of exhaustion you have reached. When was the last time you had an actual conversation with another individual?

He walks around, taking in the state of your workspace, the various books, potions and piles and piles of notes. You know he's been trying to catch you, trying to spend time with you, but anytime you haven't been here in your little lab you've been with different members of your family to try and make up for lost time.

The back and forth between self-isolation and completely locking yourself up has caused you to burn yourself out. He knew it, and you knew it. Ignoring him was a bit selfish and petty on your part, but you don't have it in you to pretend to care at the moment.

You can't help people if you don't find a cure, and you can't find a cure without working.

You feel your temperature start to lessen and your head is growing less hazy, whatever liquid Azriel had given you had worked wonders.

"So are you going to lecture me now and drag me outside my lab because I will give you the same answer I gave Rhys-"

He cuts you off with a sigh.

"I would never tell you what to do, I only wish you would take care of yourself more." He looks at you, his eyes carrying the weight of secrets that he knew he could never spill. The feelings that he lost the right to divulge.

He would never command your attention directly and after his attempt at trying to emulate Eris had greatly embarrassed him he decided to follow his own approach. Azriel's love was a silent whisper in the dark, it was not meant to be loud or seen for that would defeat the purpose.

If he could make your life only a little bit easier that would be enough for him, he didn't need your care or your devotion the promise of your wellness was enough for him. He was told to back off, but he just couldn't watch you slip away into your work so he sent his shadows to be your silent assistants.

The honesty that shone in his eyes was enough to have your resolve crumbling because this was the Azriel that had admired greatly for so long. The loyal Azriel who would put other's first and cared more than he would ever let on.

He pulls out a sandwich from the mysterious bag he had brought and hands it to you, grabs a chair, and plops himself down directly next to you.

"If you're not going to slow down, then at least let me help you. Whatever you wish me to do, name it and it will be done."

He speaks each word like it's a promise and you look at him wide-eyed, "Do you not have spymaster duties to attend to?"

Without missing a beat, he says, "This is my priority at the moment, any other task is secondary."

You look up at the Mother, she really isn't offering you any sort of respite. Oh well an extra pair of hands is an extra pair of hands and you needed the help considering just a moment ago you were teetering on the brink of collapse.

You begin to eat your sandwich, feeling your energy levels slowly rise. "Alright, but this is only for tonight."

He nods, a look of surprise written across his features like he couldn't believe you didn't shoo him away and that you were actually letting him help. His shadows even perked up and began excitedly swirling around. Is this how your mother felt when she told little you and Rhys that you guys could help her in the kitchen?

You immediately realise that you have never had anyone directly assist you in your lab. You were very particular about each and every thing, which led to you declining help because having someone else in your space was unpredictable and could lead to events out of your control, like how you and Rhys accidentally burned the dinner you were helping with and then were banned from the kitchen by your Mother.

You began giving him instructions on what herbs to grind up, and for each one, he would ask what it was and what it did, asking questions and even looking surprised at the potency of a mere plant. You were actually very excited to tell him about everything; you couldn't talk about it with the healers since they were already so knowledgeable and you didn't want to bore your family to death with idle talk about plants.

He would ask what would happen if you combined various plants and why certain mixtures had to be prepared the way they did. You excitedly divulged on how the properties of certain plants could be enhanced or completely change when mixed with others or exposed to heat.

He stayed out of your way and followed your directions to a tee. When your plant had began to show external bruising you cut it up and began to apply the different elixirs on the different pieces of decaying plant.

Azriel just sat back and watched you work in awe and had his shadows transcribe notes for you in scathing detail, looking it over just to make sure they didn't miss anything. He knew you always complained about how time-consuming the write-ups can be post experiment.

You were on your last elixir, a lilac liquid that was about the same thickness as mud and had smelled like rock dust. The midnight sky was beginning to lighten into a similar color as the potion and you feel your eyes becoming bleary from staying up all night.

Azriel moved your hand to spill a few drops on the final plant stem fragment and you watched the graying decay stop in it's track. You smiled to yourself.

It's not a cure, but it's progress. The first big sign of progress you had made. You look over to Azriel, and he was already looking at you and smiling. His arms were out and next thing you knew, you were buried in his arms, both of you happily laughing.

He picked you up and spun you around. You don't know why the last few times you've seen him have always when you've been so sleep deprived that your inhibitions are borderline non-existent.

He looks away for a moment and nods towards his shadows. They wash over your workspace, like a tidal wave of night, and when they return to him you notice that everything on your desk is in order.

They swirl around his shoulders and he looks proud that he could help you in any matter he could.

"Come on, let's go home." You tell him, scared of the direction this was going in.

He packs up the bag that he brought and holds out his hand.

"If that is what you like, then so be it." You thought he was going to winnow you, but instead, he leads you out the door and down the hall towards a golden spiraling staircase.

You follow him until your senses are assaulted by the elements. Wind on your face and the light that flirts with the horizon. You may have been doomed but your sleep schedule was obliterated.

You walk over to the edge and take a deep breath. You had spent so long cooped up indoors that you had forgotten how nice it felt to feel fresh air on your skin. You go up to the railing of the roof, and Azriel follows, standing right next to you.

He was silent, and you were glad for it. The lack of words somehow made this moment even more intimate, and you cursed your treacherous heart for the way it beat perfectly in tune with the shadowsinger, as if you were playing a duet.

"I don't know if I ever told you this, but you truly are a genius. You are truly in your element. I could spend eternity watching you work and wish for an eternity more only to see it again."

His voice is shadows and whispers and everything you have to fight yourself to get lost in.

Light breaks over the horizon, and a sliver of sun catches the gold in his eyes. You can't even tell which is brighter, and you think it may be the smile he wears. He's looking at you as if you were the first light of day after a hundred years of night, you see awe, admiration, and something else you don't want to read too much into because it would be your ruin if it were true and your destruction if it were false.

That you could immortalise this moment and never let it go. That you could pretend that all the history and pain had never happened and you could just be existing like you were right now.

"I used to think the same way when I first saw you fight with your shadows. Before, it seemed like they controlled you, but those times when they become an extension of you, you become night incarnate, and it never fails to leave me in awe."

Your voice is soft, your words a silent admission, for his shadows are an extension of himself, and while many look away in fear, you admire them and by extension him. Azriel has fought in wars, he has won valor and admiration from his time on the battlefield.

He has medals and a title that only a few warriors can claim and in the face of all he has achieved this single compliment from you may be the single greatest accomplishment that he has achieved in his long fae life. He wishes he could imprint your words on his skin and wear it for the rest of his days.

His cheeks redden, you notice. The almighty shadowsinger doesn't blush. Have you embarrassed him? Did you say something wrong? Oh gods maybe you shouldn't have said anything about the shadows.

You open your mouth to apologise when he swiftly scoops you and shoots towards the sky.

"Azriel!" You yell at him, the surprise of the moment catching you off guard, and then he is laughing. You guys soar through the skies, taking in the beauty of the sunrise. Lilac, gold, pink and orange blending together in perfect harmony.

You are so entranced you didn't even realise you made it home until Azriel plops you on your feet and you almost sink to the floor tiredness hitting you all at once making your legs feel like jelly.

He smirks and then picks you up bridal style and triumphantly carries you into the house, with the stealth that one only obtains from years of being a spymaster. You felt like you were teenagers sneaking around after you'd been forbidden to see one another.

It's a feeling you're cherishing a lot more than you would care to admit. It's not until you make it to your room and his shadows close the door behind you that he begins to grin before throwing you on your bed.

You land with an "Oof."

You give him a look of betrayal.

"I had to make up for being softer on the landing than usual somehow."

You both look at each other and burst into laughter.

The mask of the spymaster left broken in tatters somewhere on the floor of your lab hours ago, and he didn't even care to look for it.

"Who knew you had a had sense of humour Az. Where have you been hiding it all these years?"

You had called him Az. At this rate he would turn into Cassian, stupid jokes flying from his mouth in rapid succession just to hear you call him Az.

"Is that what you want for me to turn into another Cassian?" He asks jokingly, well at least half joking.

You looked at him and then doubled down on the fit of laughter you were having, tears streaming from your eyes.

"As much as I would love to see that, I think Cassian would throw a temper tantrum at you taking his spot. I like you as you are, you are my calm in the everlasting storm, becoming a clown doesn't suit you."

You say as you begin to catch your breath from all the laughter and wipe your tears from your eyes.

He doesn't understand how you could just make these world-breaking statements and just look completely fine while his stomach was in knots and his heart was in a twist from your words alone.

He gives you a small smile, one reserved for only you, and he begins to depart. You needed your rest and so did he.

"I would tell you goodnight, but I'm afraid we are way past that at this point. So until next time, I will bid you farewell."

He looks to you to see you already strewn out on your bed fast asleep. He leaves his shadows to change you into your nightclothes and make sure you are comfortable in bed and he smiles to himself as he closes your door and heads to his room where sleep welcomes him instead of drags him under for the first time since he had fallen asleep in your room.

-

Your words to Azriel about his assistance being a one time thing had turned into a lie. He would show up at odd hours whenever he had down time, sometimes before a mission sometimes directly after.

You guys had fallen into a routine of sorts, and it was actually helping your productivity and you got to get out of writing those treacherous reports.

You had preferred him to come at night though, since an Illyrian warrior did tend to draw a lot of attention during the day and all the apprentices and even Madja herself give you a knowing look whenever Azriel enters the building.

You had been getting a lot closer with your final result with Azriel's help and while you haven't fully figured out a way to reverse the cell degradation you had managed to stop it and in combination with other potions you, with the help of Azriel, had developed you could at least stabalize a patient enough that their life could be saved.

Huge progress. Groundbreaking progress. The night you had made that discovery you let out a scream so loud that Madja came rushing in from her dwelling on the floor above. Her worry had quickly turned to elation as you guys stayed there excitedly reviewing your work while Azriel just silently lingered in the background.

She then brought both of you into a bone-crushing hug with a strength that no one her age should possess, and made you present your findings to all the healers at her monthly briefings and then again to the inner circle.

They were all eyeing you and Azriel curiously, you weren't surprised by this since they knew that he was your mate and everything that had gone down since that discovery.

Right now you were still tinkering with the potion, seeing if there was a way to make it more effective when Madja had walked in with a smirk.

"Your shadowsinger is here to see you." Mother above you swear she could be worse than the adolescent apprentices at times.

"He's not my anything, you don't have to say it like that." You give her a retort and feel like your back in school pretending you don't have a crush.

"If you say so." She says shit-eating grin plastered on her face. The lines around her eyes reflect all the years and experience she has on you, and while her words were lighthearted, there is wisdom behind them.

Azriel strides in looking frantic, his shadows were rapidly swirling around him, and he was obviously in a rush. He rushes to you and grabs your arms in his hands.

"I have a mission, it's urgent, and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

Your heart fell, you're going to miss his company, but he is never this way when he goes on a mission. You then realise why he's here. He doesn't know if he's going to make it or not.

You've only seen him this way on a handful of missions, and each time he returned from one, he had come back on the brink of death. His line of work asks for payment in the form of risk and for once you wanted to ask him to stay. You had a bad feeling.

"You have my shadow if you need it. If anything happens, you can tell him." Azriel tells you like he is briefing his soldiers for war or his spies for a mission.

You nod your head scared your voice would betray you. You hide your face in his chest and he wraps his arms around you. Half the reason was you wanting to be closer before your separated and the other half is to hide the tears threatening to spill over your waterline.

You stayed there for a minute until you felt the pulse of his shadows. He's being called somewhere. He has to go.

You pull away and his hand goes from your head to caressing your cheek wiping away the stray tear that begins to fall.

"Come back to me in one piece. I mean it Azriel." You whisper to him like commanding him to be safe would protect his life. You gave him a lifeline, but even that wasn't enough to soothe the worry beginning to bloom in your chest.

"I would fight the Mother herself if she stood between us. I mean it." The words are a vow and you knew he spoke the truth.

Before you could say anything else he disappeared in a wave of shadow, leaving only a small silver bag in his wake. You can't bring yourself to open it not right now.

You knew in your chest that Azriel was not going to be back for a little while if at all. You fall to the ground and cry as Madja holds you together.

-

The next 2 weeks had felt like an eternity. No word from Azriel, Rhys refused to divulge what kind of mission he was on, and Cassian missed his training buddy. Even your pet fox seemed down in Azriel's absence.

You opened the silver bag a week later, and it had been a little plush bed for your fox with a note that read:

"For your new apprentice, may he keep you good company in my absence. - Az"

You missed him. You weren't even going to pretend like the questioning eyes of the healer's apprentices silently asking you where your Illyrian went and if everything was alright didn't get to you.

That the occasional stabbing of fear and worry down the bond didn't cause sleepless nights and that you woke up from countless nightmares, clutching your chest to make sure the bond was intact and he was still alive.

14 days it had been.

The longest 14 days of your life.

You were in Madja's, well basically your, office when you felt him. He was near. He had to be. You felt the bond light up and then start screaming and then he emerged from the shadows.

Your excitement had quickly turned to horror as you saw that the leathers on his chest had been singed, almost disintegrated off and his skin was a darker color than the shadows.

"Azriel!" You screamed physically and mentally for Rhys, for Madja, for anyone who could hear.

Rhys was there in a second, and Madja right after, running through the doors. Feyre, Cassian, and Feyre winnowed in mere moments later.

A jolt of pain like you never knew burned in your chest and you felt the bond flicker.

Madja rushed to her shelves, quickly beginning her work, no time to spare to even process what's happening.

Rhys looks at you with a look of complete panic on his face, "What's happening? You can feel him."

"He's slipping away Rhys. I can't-"

Madja yells your name, a reminder that the longer you spend panicking over Azriel's, the less time he has to live.

You rush to Madja, the bond act like a physical hourglass making you feel Azriel's time slowly run out, and race against it to save your Mate.

-

Somewhere which also happens to be nowhere the Mother is about to make her next move when she sees Azriel's piece, which is ironically white and not black like the colour of his shadows, has a gray spot. It's the gray of ash and destruction not the gray of swords and stones.

She looks at face, confusion written in her features to meet an identical expression.

"This is not my doing. Not even when time ceases to exist and we are all that's left in this plane of existence would I resort to this kind of cheating."

The gray begins to burn through the piece, a visible plague infecting it from within.

The Mother and Fate pause.

He stills. "You don't think?"

He couldn't even get the words out, scared that the dark reality would come true if he even spoke of it.

The Mother's features become grave. "There is a dark magic in Prythian, I fear it's now up to them to stop it."

-

Note: Hey guys, long time no see. This is actually the longest chapter of why me? that I have written. I wanted to make up for the little break that I took. I felt like I had lost my footing in the story and now I really know where I want it to go. This chapter did take a turn or two or three, but at the heart of this chapter is their relationship and those good moments that we haven't seen that many of. It's the first chapter that I can wholeheartedly say they are being their true selves and it felt really good to get to the point of writing this. I'm sorry I had to leave it on a cliff hanger, I can't be too generous, I have to keep you guys on your toes. Gasp** a dark magic? I guess you'll have to stay tuned to find out what it is. Until next time my darlings!

note note: At this point you all know I have a problem with editing, it just takes so long to write you can't ask me to sit down and basically rewrite it again what am i a professional? (in truth i am just lazy). So thank you to my typo police that catch anything that makes the story slightly illegible I appreciate y'all and all my readers for following along with me <3

my lovely taglist: @alimarie1105 @chaosabroad @bbontenswhhore @tele86 @ashblooddragons @circe143 @i-am-infinite @princesssunderworld @thestartitaness @tiffany-xx @cpfantasybooks @lucia-valentinaa @jennigsonl @ivy-34 @firefly-forest @k-homosapien @coeurdeveea @cherryjain17 @bckynatt @becstersworld @rcarbo1 @gojospearlycim @atluky @juliebluehufflepuff @willowpains @abadfantasybook @neverendingstay @hellohauntedturnstudent @highladyofhogwarts @littowl @iluvyewman-blog @lunaticpotatoe @justlivinginadaydream @julesiebean @shylahstarzz @olive-main @lreadsstuff @noonenuts @sourapplex @aquellaspequenascosas @anuttellaa @honethatty12 @moonlwghts @kittymeyers @beabogsims @sillyfreakfanparty @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @florencemtrash

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Three ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, southern charm still thick as molasses in the middle of a snowstorm, Mark starts tweakin’ a lil’ bit on the low LMAO

Word Count: 2,449

Synopsis: Mark shows up to school early only to be immediately wrecked by you, who’s handing out muffins & heartache. Mark finds himself caught between charm, jealousy, and the slow realization that he is already in waaay too deep.

a/n: thank you for the feedback on the poll but y’all are just as torn on the direction to go with this thing as I am ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i really don’t want to drag this series out too longgg cause i feel like y’all will get sick of her, but there is so much fun potential with them!! so when i do wrap it up i definitely still plan to do random drabbles/blrubs/headcannons. so if you have a particular scenario you want to see played out with these two let me knowww

read part two ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

The next day, Mark got to first period a full fifteen minutes early.

He wasn’t trying to be extra—he just, y’know, happened to wake up earlier than usual. Showered for an extra minutes. Stared into his closet for even longer.

It was row after row of sweaters.

Gray sweater. Navy sweater. Slightly-different-gray sweater. The exact same maroon one he wore yesterday, and probably twice last week.

“Why do I own so many sweaters,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not even cold.”

He glanced at the clock. He had exactly twelve minutes to leave the house if he wanted to be on time. But today wasn’t about being on time.

Today was about impressing the southern goddess who fed him homemade pie and called him sugar like it didn’t wreck his entire nervous system.

He yanked the maroon sweater off its hanger and immediately dropped it again. “No. You wore that when you met her. You can’t wear a sweater twice in a row, she’ll think you’re... sweater guy.”

He reached deeper. Somewhere in the back—past the knit graveyard—and he found an old, forgotten denim button-up he hadn’t worn in ages.

“…Okay. Alright.” He held it up, inspecting it like it might bite. “It’s not not cool. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

By the time he was out the door, he was buttoned up, hair freshly styled, smelling faintly like his dad’s aftershave (too much? was it too much?), and on track to arrive at school earlier than any teenager had ever willingly arrived before.

He passed one of the janitors on the way in. The guy looked at him weird.

Mark nodded like a man with a mission. “Big day.”

The janitor grimaced and went back to mopping.

Mark made it to class so early the lights weren’t even fully on yet.

He sat down, tried to play it cool, tapped his pen like he wasn’t losing his mind.

And then—you walked in.

Suddenly the semi-lit classroom felt too bright.

You were wearing another one of those flowy dresses—soft blue this time, with little white daisies scattered all over like a watercolor painting. Your hair was curled again, bouncing around your shoulders, and there was a tiny yellow bow tucked just behind your ear.

You were smiling, too. Big and bright, like it wasn’t still technically dark outside.

Mark forgot what breathing was.

“Good mornin’, sugar!” you chirped, dropping into the desk beside him in a way that almost made the hard plastic seem comfortable. “Ain’t it just the prettiest day?”

Mark looked outside.

It was overcast. Kinda windy. A bird hit the window and flopped off.

“…Yeah,” he croaked. “Gorgeous.”

You opened your notebook with a little hum, pulling out a pen that had a fuzzy pink pom-pom on the end. Different from your rhinestone student pencil from yesterday. Of course you had a whole arsenal of beautiful writing utensils.

Mark stared at it like it held all the answers to the universe.

“I brought peach muffins today,” you said, casual as ever. “Meemaw said I should bring a whole batch with me ‘cause they were too good not to share. I figured I’d bring you one.”

Mark’s felt like a fist had closed around his heart. “I’d die for a muffin.”

You laughed, light and lovely, not even fazed. “Well shoot, I don’t want you dyin’ for one. You just wait ‘til lunch and I’ll hand it over easy, no crime involved.”

Mark stared at you, helpless.

You turned your face to the window with a little sigh, completely unaware you’d just accidentally ruined him for every other girl on planet Earth.

The bell rang.

Mark didn’t even notice.

He was too busy falling deeper in love with the girl who brought sunshine and muffins into first period like it was nothing.

He was still riding the high of being called sugar and getting a personal smile when the classroom started to fill in.

You were already sitting beside him, scribbling little daisies in the margins of your notes and humming to yourself like you were the only one immune to Tuesday energy. You pulled a small zip-lock pouch from your tote and opened it to reveal a cluster of wrapped muffins, all neat and warm and clearly made with care.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” you said brightly—to the teacher.

Mark watched with stars in his eyes as you stood, walked to the front desk, and handed the teacher a muffin with both hands and a smile. “Mama always says nobody should have to start their day without a little somethin’ sweet.”

The teacher blinked, clearly caught off guard, then smiled back. “Well... thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Mark practically swooned. Look at her, he thought. She’s so thoughtful. She’s so considerate. She’s like a vintage greeting card but better. An actual saint.

You turned around, still holding one more muffin in your hand—and then you walked right past Mark’s desk.

He froze. Wait. No muffin for him?

But then—worse—you stopped beside Brian.

Brian. The kid with glasses thicker than bulletproof glass. The one who wore suspenders without irony. Who once gave a ten-minute speech in class about his favorite graphing calculator.

You handed him a muffin.

“There ya go, sugar,” you said sweetly. “You always look so focused in here—I figure you deserve a treat.”

Brian turned bright red. “Oh! Uh! Thanks! That’s, um—wow. Thank you.”

Mark, from two desks away, silently short-circuited.

Brian?? He liked Brian! Brian was harmless! Brian was also now the luckiest man alive and probably didn’t even know it!!

Mark stared blankly at his own desk. The jealousy was illogical. He knew that. You were just being friendly. It was who you were. That was why he liked you so much.

Still.

He looked down at his empty hands, then at Brian, who was carefully placing his muffin into a Ziploc bag like it was a museum artifact.

Mark was still trying to pretend he didn’t feel weird about the whole Brian Situation™ when you turned back to him with your usual sunny grin—muffin bag in hand.

He straightened in his seat like a dog hearing the treat bag rustle.

“Don’t you worry, darlin’,” you said, tapping the top of the bag like it held gold. “I got your muffin all safe and sound for lunch.”

Mark blinked. “Oh—cool. Thank you.”

“But,” you added, eyes twinkling, “you look like you could use a little somethin’ sweet right now.”

His heart started to race. “I—I mean I—uh—”

You reached into the bottom of the muffin bag, broke off a little piece of golden, peach-flecked heaven, and held it out to him between your fingers.

“Open up.”

Mark’s soul left his body.

He opened his mouth automatically, like he was under some kind of southern-fried spell, and you gently popped the bite in—still smiling, totally casual, like this was just what people did.

The muffin was warm and soft and ridiculous. A spiritual experience.

You went right back to your notes like nothing had happened.

Mark sat there in stunned silence, chewing slowly, eyes wide like a soldier returning from war.

LATER THAT DAY — LUNCH.

Mark was already outside when you arrived—waiting under the tree like a man on a mission, trying to act like he hadn’t sprinted there the second the bell rang.

You showed up, bright as ever, holding that pastel lunchbox like it was the Holy Grail.

“Well hey, handsome,” you greeted, sitting gracefully beside him. “Hope you saved some room. I brought you the biggest one.”

He smiled—more like grinned—more like beamed. “Yeah, totally. Been thinking about it all day. Like… not in a weird way. Just. Y’know.”

You laughed, pulling out your container.

Then, completely oblivious to the emotional avalanche you were about to cause, you added: “Oh! And where’s your little friend? The one from yesterday? I brought extra for him too!” You took another cheerful bite of your muffin and glanced around the courtyard.

Mark froze mid-chew.

“William?” he asked, already knowing where this was going.

You nodded, casual as ever. “Mmhmm. I could’ve sworn he was in line for those lil’ curly fries they serve.” You pulled the spare muffin from your bag, holding it up delicately in its wax paper like it was a peace offering. “Wouldn’t feel right eatin’ this one without givin’ it to him. Poor thing’ll think I forgot about him!”

Mark’s smile was pained. “Oh. Yeah. That’s… thoughtful.”

You grinned, totally oblivious to the internal meltdown you’d just triggered. “I’m pretty sure he’s still in there honey. Go get him!”

He blinked. “What?”

You laughed gently, like he was being shy. “Go on, darlin’! Tell him I saved one just for him. He can come sit with us.”

Mark’s brain:

💔 This was our thing. 💔 Our spot. 💔 Our tree. 💔 Our muffin moment. 💔 Our marriage announcement was going to go here.

But all he said was, “…Right. Be right back.”

He stood up slowly, like he was going to the guillotine. “You sure you don’t wanna… I don’t know… surprise him later?”

You laughed again and shook your head. “Now don’t be silly. Ain’t no sense lettin’ this thing go cold!”

He nodded, a broken man. “Right. Of course. Warm muffins. That makes sense.”

You waved him off with a sweet little, “Tell him I said hurry, before I eat it myself!”

As he turned toward the cafeteria, he muttered under his breath, “…I was gonna marry her.”

Mark all but slammed through the cafeteria doors, eyes scanning the room like he was hunting prey.

There. At the far table. William, munching on curly fries like it was just another day, chatting with some guy from math class like the fate of Mark’s entire romantic future wasn’t on the line.

Mark rushed over, practically skidding to a stop in front of him. “Will,” he hissed, out of breath, eyes intense. “Please don’t ruin this.”

William blinked. “Ruin what? What’s happening? Are we being hunted?”

Mark leaned in, voice urgent. “She sent me to come get you. You. Personally. She has a muffin for you.”

William raised both brows. “...Oh. So this is about Muffin Girl.”

Mark looked around, already twitching. “She’s waiting under the tree. Our—my—spot. Please, please, I’m begging you, don’t linger. Just take the muffin, say thank you, maybe one polite compliment on her dress if you have to, and leave.”

William paused, chewing slowly, savoring the moment like it was his own muffin.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m in hell,” Mark whispered. “I am in hell and she’s passing out baked goods like this is a church potluck. I need this.”

William popped one last curly fry in his mouth and stood. “Alright, alright. Don’t rupture anything. I’ll be cool.”

“You won’t be,” Mark muttered, following him out. “I know you. You’re gonna make this weird.”

William grinned over his shoulder. “Buddy, you brought me a muffin invitation like it was a golden ticket. This is weird.”

Mark groaned.

You spotted them before they even made it halfway across the lawn.

Mark looked like he was dragging William toward you by the soul. William, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered—curly fry in one hand, mild mischief in his eyes.

“Well there he is!” you called out, waving that sweet little wave that made Mark’s knees go weak. “I was just about to send a search party.”

William grinned as they approached. “Sorry, ma’am. He tracked me down like a bloodhound. Said I was urgently needed.”

Mark muttered, “I did not say urgently.”

You patted the blanket beside you without hesitation. “Well come on, then! I don’t wanna be handin’ out muffins while they’re all cold and sad.”

Mark shot William a look. One that screamed: Don’t you dare.

William, of course, ignored it completely and sat down like he’d been invited to a five-star brunch. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, stretching out a little. “Beautiful day, huh?”

Mark stood awkwardly beside the blanket, hovering like he wasn’t sure if this was now a group event or if he should go lay down in traffic.

“It is!” You agreed with another beaming smile before handing William the wrapped muffin “Now these are peach flavored—my favorite,” you said, then added with a wink, “but I’m biased.”

William opened it like a kid on Christmas. “Man, you bake and you’ve got charm? Mark wasn’t kidding.”

Mark snapped his head around so fast it nearly detached. “What.”

William bit into the muffin like it was the last joy on Earth and moaned dramatically. “Holy crap. You trying to kill us with kindness? These are so good!”

You giggled. “Well shoot, if I knew y’all were this easy to impress I’d’ve brought somethin’ fancier!”

Mark finally sat down, a little stiff, very tense, watching William like a hawk. He took a bite of his muffin (a big one), and tried to look normal.

He did not look normal.

William, fully aware, turned to you. “So, how’d you learn to bake like this? You go to some kind of southern baking academy, or is this just genetic perfection?”

You laughed, delighted. “Lord, no! My grandma just taught me when I was little. Said a lady should always know how to whip up a good peach pie and a sharp comeback.”

Mark, halfway through his muffin and very much not chewing like a normal person, tried to chime in. "That's really cool," he said, muffled through a mouthful.

William glanced sideways at him with a smirk that had way too much knowing in it. "Didn’t know you were so into peaches, man."

Mark nearly choked. "I’m not—I mean, I am. I like muffins. Just—these muffins. Or... muffins in general."

You looked between the two of them, brows raised ever so slightly, and let out the softest little laugh. “Y’all city boys sure are funny,” you said, sipping your drink with a smile like this was all just playful nonsense.

Mark practically melted. God, she’s sweet, he thought. She doesn’t even know what she does to people. She’s literally just—

His eyes flicked sideways—and immediately caught William staring straight at him with a smirk that said everything.

Mark’s brain screeched back to reality like a record scratch. He cleared his throat, sat up straighter, took another too-casual bite of muffin.

“Anyway,” he said quickly, “uh… yeah. School’s wild, right?”

William didn’t say anything. Just took another bite of his own muffin, eyes full of judgment and joy.

[szatears]

Could you do a sinners story. That’s a Stack x Mary x Black!reader set now. Where they slowly fall in love with reader who’s baddie and include some jealousy.

three's trouble, stack & mary.

summary: stack had always had a thing for you. you never thought much of it because he was a huge flirt like that and also because of the other girl he was always entertaining. but maybe, just maybe, you could have a bit of fun with that?

pairings: stack x blackfem!reader, stack x mary, mary x blackfem!reader.

warnings: slight smut (one day i'll go the whole way), some descriptions of reader, mary being jealous of reader.

notes: this one is kinda long! i'm a smoke girly through and through but this request may have bumped stack up my ratings a little 😛 also by 'set now' i'm assuming you mean in today's era but if that's not what you meant then i wholeheartedly apologise 😭

It started off as a joke. When Smoke and Stack opened up their juke joint, you had originally gone there with a couple of your girls, until it became a routine place for you guys to meet up and debrief, letting loose as the night's events would take you away.

It wasn't until the fourth time you went there that you met Mary. You were on the dance floor with your girls when she almost bumped into you, turning around with an apologetic face. She hovered over her words as she spoke to you, taking in your face and that gorgeous two piece you had on you.

Something clicked in her head in that moment, it was all fuzzy, not quite connected, but she just knew she'd be seeing more of you.

And that she did.

It became a weekly thing, going to the joint. The first time you met Stack was no accident; it seems he had actually sought you out from the crowd. He wanted to know what it was about this girl that Mary kept going on about.

Mary wasn't infatuated to say, she was more... interested. There was something about you that drew her in, the way you laughed at her jokes, how effortlessly your body moved to the rhythm of the music as you both danced, the intense eye contact... It really drew her in.

Stack wasn't really what you expected. Perhaps you just thought he'd be like his brother, Smoke. Cold, tough, not interested in anything that doesn't benefit him in a way, or at least that's what you gathered from all that you heard.

But he wasn't like Smoke, at least not entirely. Stack was clearly the more chilled of the two, the one open to having a bit of fun.

The joke itself was based on how much of a liking Mary and Stack took to you. You'd be told that they didn't always tolerate people outside of their immediate circle, that there was just something special about you.

When Stack began to call you his girl, or when Mary started to affectionately show you off to anyone who would listen, you started to think there was more to your relationship with them than you suspected.

That being said, you weren't surprised when Stack greeted you with an arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into him every time he saw you since the say you met.

"There's my favourite girl," he'd drawl out with a huge smile, an icy pink drink in his hand waiting for you.

"Hey, Stack," you'd kiss his cheek, taking the drink from him and allowing him to take your hand in his, leading you to the section of the joint him and Smoke fixed up nice and neat for them and their special guests.

You felt the eyes on you as you walked behind him, albeit he was moving at a fast pace through bodies that parted so he could pass. He was respected like that.

"Where's Mary?" You asked when he sat you down right next to him, one of your legs resting over his lap as his arm lay low around your waist, holding you to him.

You had to lean up close to his ear to ask over the loud blues that was being played on the stage, presumably Sammie. Your new 613 styled hair tickled his face a little when he leaned closer to you to answer.

"She's around, I ain't too sure where," he waved you off, almost like it irritated him to answer. You came to the conclusion that Stack and Mary had a complicated relationship, it was pretty obvious to anyone who watched them for more than a moment.

At times you got caught up in the middle of their arguments or tiffs, where Mary would complain to you about Stack being Stack, and Stack would tell you to tell her to "ease off a lil'". It was always something with those two.

You stayed in his company like that for most of the night, mainly because Stack wouldn't exactly let you get up. You were a catch, he knew that and you did too.

He saw the eyes you'd get from every guy here and then, but none of them would make a move whilst you were with him. They'd wait until after, but even then, the fear of messing with Stack's girl would keep them away.

"Damn, Stack, save some girls for the rest of us," Melo laughed as he dapped him up. Melo was one of the guys that Smoke and Stack tolerated, for more reasons than just the fact that he was a funny guy. You thought it had something to do with the 'business' that they handled, and you were probably right.

Stack smirked, his hand subtly rubbing your ass over the skirt you wore. "Man, gone on," he gestured to Melo.

"Nah, real shit though, where Mary at?"

"I'on know, does it look like I got her on a leash? She's wherever she's at." He snapped. You frowned at that, coming to the conclusion that they had definitely gotten into it before you arrived.

Melo held his hands up in surrender, walking away to the bar. It was like he could feel you judging him, because when Stack looked down at you after reaching into his pocked for a prerolled blunt, he shook his head. "Don't you start on me too, ma" he mumbled, fumbling in his pockets for a lighter.

"Hm," was all you said. "I'm gonna go look for her."

He didn't stop you, try to make you stay. He let you go after her.

Mary was on the other side of the joint, laughing it up with some girls you'd never seen before. She spotted you just as you spotted her, her face brightening up at the sight of yours.

"Hey, there is she is right now! Look girls, this is the fine lil' lady I was talking to y'all about earlier," she held your hand as she brought you to the group. You smiled at them all, trying to fight away any awkwardness.

"You look good," Mary brought her arms to rest around your neck, intertwining them together. Yours rested loosely around her waist, the two of you almost flush together.

"Thanks, doll," you made a kissy face at her, not expecting her to actually kiss your lips. It was a short kiss, and she pulled away with a huge smile. Poor girl was gone. "What's up with you and Stack though? Y'all fighting again?"

Mary rolled her eyes, removing a hand from around your neck to pull her dress down a little. You recognised the dress, it was one you helped her pick out on the many shopping trips the two of you took together with Stack's money. It was a deep red, came up to her mid thighs and exposed her back at the behind.

"That man ain't shit," she groaned. "Talking 'bout I get on his nerves and don't know how to leave him alone. Maybe don't send mixed signals then?!"

You nodded as she ranted, her friends now dispersing across the joint to leave you two alone. This was nothing you haven't heard before, Mary and Stack always got into it about something along the same lines as their last argument.

"Maybe I should just have you be my new thing instead of him," Mary frowned, leaning her body on yours. You smiled at her words.

"I wouldn't mind that."

*

A couple days later, you assumed they'd be on good terms again but it seemed not. You were hanging around in your apartment when you heard the door open, confusing taking over your face because no one else had a key. Before you even had a chance to grab something incase you needed to defend yourself, you heard a voice call out for you.

"Where you at, baby?" Stack asked, taking his shoes off by the door.

"Elias, I told you to stop picking my damn doors," you kissed your teeth, exhaling a much needed sigh of relief after that small scare.

"Then start answering your phone," he said like it was the most obvious response. He kissed your lips briefly, mumbling a "hey" before he made his way to your kitchen, coming back to you with a bottle of water.

"What brings you here?" you asked, settling down on the sofa.

He didn't reply straight away, instead he took the time to admire you as he drank. You weren't wearing anything too special, a small, white spaghetti strapped tank top with light grey joggers that belonged to a lounge set. You looked good. You always did. Hell, you could be wearing the most basic thing ever and Stack would find you drop dead gorgeous.

A small smirk made its way to his face as his thoughts trailed off to other things, making you tilt your head at him.

"Hello?" you nudged him.

"Sorry, darling," he finally snapped out of his trance. "You got me a lil' distracted there."

You smiled, like you always did when he flirted with you. He put the cap back on his bottle, placing it down on the coffee table in front of him before his arms reached out for you, pulling you into him.

You let him guide you over his laps, straddling him with your palms resting flat against his chest. Stack's hands rubbed over your ass as he leaned further into the sofa, his eyes staring right into yours.

"You didn't answer my question," you looked back at him.

"I can't pay you a visit no more? Damn," he sighed, squeezing at your hip.

"I didn't say all that," you rolled your eyes. "You and Mary keep getting into it and then dragging me in your mess."

The day before, Mary had come over to yours. Originally she planned to convince you to come out with her, but you had had enough of partying for a couple of days. So she stayed in with you.

What started off as you two watching movies and making dinner turned into her hands caressing gently over your body, your lips on hers and a whole lotta noise.

"That ain't nothing new," He said.

"Yeah? Maybe that's a sign, I don't know..."

"A sign for what?"

"A sign that—" you were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, a puzzled expression on your face as you removed yourself from Stack's lap to answer it. There was nothing that annoyed you more than unexpected guests, but two? This was a new record now.

You opened the door, eyes widening at the sight of Mary.

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you. She looked down behind you for a brief moment, her eyes landing on Stack's shoes. She look back at you, eyes narrowed before she moved past you and inside.

"Yeah, come right in. No, I'm not too busy at the moment," you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't long before you were hearing raised voices and all sorts of cuss words being thrown.

"Really?! So you can be here, around her, but you can't be bothered to come see me?"

"Mary, calm the fuck down and watch who you talking to," Stack ran a hand down his face, his mood completely soured as he reached for a blunt in his pocket.

"No! Because you're such a fucking liar! I swear to God," she laughed bitterly, turning to face you now. "And when were you gonna tell me about this. Huh? After I slept with you again?"

Stack's brows piqued up at that, turning to you too.

"Mary, you knew Stack's been coming up here, I literally told you that—"

"What, y'all got something goin' on too?" She scoffed. It was insane to her how she was the one who introduced you two yet felt completely left out of the loop.

"I mean, shit, if you want," Stack smirked, clearly unfazed by the situation in front of him.

"Shut the hell up," you and Mary both said.

Sighing, you walked towards her. You could see the pout on her face, the crease in her brow that only appeared when she frowned. "You like him more than me or somethin'?" She asked you.

"No. I like you both. I also think you're both irritating as fuck," you spoke honestly, tucking a standing of your hair behind your ear that had fallen out of the ponytail you put it in before they both came.

Stack blew smoke out of his mouth from where he sat, watching you both. You wrapped your arms around Mary's waist, inching your face closer to hers. Her eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, waiting for you to make the first move.

You broke your gaze away from her face to look at Stack, his eyes focused on you and what you would do next. A smile graced your lips, your attention back on Mary. You leaned in, feeling the softness of her lips welcome yours.

"Damn," Stack mumbled.

Mary kissed you back, a small moan escaping her lips as she did. When you parted your lips, her tongue didn't waste any time, exploring your mouth as you moaned shamelessly.

You broke away from the kiss, leaning your head on Mary's shoulder as you looked at Stack. "There are more ways to solve this lil' issue, you know."

Stack smiled, putting his blunt in the ashtray. You pulled away from Mary, pushing her gently towards Stack, who took her into his arms. He kissed her, slow and gentle.

"You know I love you," he mumbled against her lips.

"Yeah. I love you too," Mary sighed, glad she was finally being shown some attention by him.

They turned to look at you, Mary patting the spot on the other side of Stack. "And we love you too. Guess we'll just have to learn to share," she smirked.

You sat down, and it wasn't long before Stack's lips were on yours, his hand around your throat, pulling you closer. Mary watched on, her lip tucked in between her teeth. Why didn't she ever think of this before.

She kissed down Stack's neck, nipping and biting, letting up when you started to kiss her. Her hands grabbed at your top, breaking away from the messy kiss to pull it off of you. Stack took his top off too, his toned body on display. You almost drooled, you couldn't believe this was actually happening, or rather, that it was happening so late.

Stack leaned towards your neck, sucking and kissing wherever he could as you groaned, tilting your head back slightly. Mary was still on you, kissing you from cheek to cheek before she was back on your lips. You were overwhelmed a little, but the good type of overwhelmed.

Stack pulled away, his eyes lustful and full of want as he looked at both his girls. "I think we should take this upstairs."

taglist.

@abriefnirvana @childishgambinaax

reply if you want to be added!

[heartsforsav]

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 NECTAR OF THE GODS . . . ! ۶ৎ ⠀ᰋ

𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧 & 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 grayson x cowgirl!reader

cw. . . fluff! (and brief mention of mark getting hard. sorry not sorry.)

synopsis. . . how mark and nolan act when they have a pretty!country thing by their side !

notes . . . my first post!! i couldve added more butttt oh well.

NOLAN GRAYSON

nolan has had plenty of partners in his lifetime. he likes to mix it up, having partners that are similar can be so boring… and when he sees you, clad in your little scuffed cowgirl boots with dainty ribbons hangin’ off the side, he grins.

you are sure as heck pretty, and sure as heck somethin’ he hasn’t experienced before!

he’s got to get to know you.

he doesn’t understand how accents work. especially one so … country. that honey dripped, sweet western accent of yours has him confused.

the silly little metaphors fallin’ from your mouth? has him in a whirlwind. the fuck does “save a horse, ride a cowgirl” mean? is that a thing?

a lot of the time, he doesn’t quite get what you’re trying to say to him, but the look on your cute face just has him going along with it. he’ll figure out what you meant eventually.

you’ve never met a man so intimidating before. big and burly build, salt ‘n pepper hair. what a dilf! he’s definitely like.. double your age (little did you know, he’s 2,000 years old) but you find it endearing, in a way.

once the two of you start dating, it’s sweet. he hasn’t had a relationship like this one before. it’s new, it’s fun.

you teach him new things, new phrases that he never says in the right context, and it doesn’t quite flow of the tongue like yours does. but he’s trying!

one time you even dressed him like a true cowboy. clad in straight jeans, some boots and a cute lil hat!

you pull him in by the jean loop and he’s cheesing. dimpled smile. he definitely does that to you every time you wear jeans around him now. he loves it.

but he doesn’t quite like the hats. they’re big, and weird, and uncomfortable and just a pain! whenever he tries to kiss you, he gets hit in the face with the brim of it. he’ll lift it from your head and throw it across the room like a frisbee.

if you have a farm… omg. cutest thing ever seeing him learn how to take care of your sweet little animals. horses, cattle, maybe even some lamb…cutest thing ever.

he gets used to this life. learns the way of a true country man.

he likes the outfits that come with it. besides those fuck ass hats, he’d never like those. but the small little shorts, the tees, and the pretty lil sundresses.

he’d never dress like that though. never in the thousand more years he’s got left.

honestly… i don’t know how the dynamic would work with his super heroism. i don’t think you’d necessarily like the fact, but it’s got its pros. like the things from all over the world he gets you, oh you love that little deet.

but you miss him too much. you’d spend time with your animals so you don’t seem as lonely, but having him there with you, helping feed the chicken and rowdy up all the animals. it was nice! you’d gotten used to it.

when he gets home, he definitely makes it up to you. makes you forget all about why you were upset in the first place.

MARK GRAYSON

mark probably met you through school or some BS. he doesn’t ever go to the western states… so it’s kinda hard to think of a time where you’d meet besides school.

maybe when he was stopping some big bad villain in your area, and had the pleasure of saving little ole’ you!

then when he saw how pretty the girl he was saving was, he tripped on his own feet.

but then it’d have to be long distance… and boy that would suck. finding time between his home life, school life (before he dropped out of college), being a hero, and traveling to see you. it’d be hard.

sooo maybe it’d be easier if you just went to school together. and he got to see you every day, all dressed up and sticking out like a sore thumb (in the best way possible, he thinks.)

just like nolan, the phrases … uhhh they’d boggle his mind. he thinks they’re silly. hearing it from your mouth just makes sense, as if you took the words right from his mind that he hadn’t yet thought of!

if you were to still have some farm animals he would be the BEST helper!!! seriously, he’s so kind to animals. babying them and smiling all kiddish at them. he helps name them, too. his favorites are probably the lambs since they remind him sooo much of you! can u tell i love lambs or if u had a tiny lil bunny. your twin

when he told his friends about you (more like full on ranted) it was a shock. a western sweetheart in their state? crazy. but they see how mark would like someone like you. as sweet as sugar and as pretty as a flower! william was like “wtf?” when mark started his first outburst about you, confused as to how he even met you, but he gets it when he sees you. definitely someone mark would like, he takes note of.

trying to dress mark like a cowboy would take a lotta convincing. “i dunno, i don’t think i’d look good like that..” “oh, trust me, you would! c’mon, darlin’!” he’s blushing profusely as you top him off with your signature hat. he puts his hands on his face and shakes his head. “this is not my best look.” “nonsense!”

he definitely prefers it on you.

he’s like living his best white picket fence dream with you! with the addition of a whole lotta animals that he didn’t quite expect for him, but he loves it even more

the nicknames have him in a chokehold. they fall off your tongue so easily, so quick, takes him a sec to process it. and when he does he does a little lovestruck cheesy smile.

he loooves the bows! you practically put them on everything (especially his biceps, which makes him sport a chub in his pants) they look so pretty in your styled hair!!

the sundresses are his favorite. taking you on a sweet picnic in some flower filled field, hair curled and makeup done. he packs some strawberries, your favorite, and you bring some iced tea that has way too much sweetener in it than need be. he brings you a bouquet even though you’re surrounded by a plethora of flower buds. the frilly dress you have on with your chestnut brown boots. swooning. drooling. obsessed. loves it.

he just loves to constantly bring you flowers. it’s like, one of his favorite things to do in the whole wide world! seeing your dimpled smile and blushed cheeks! as pretty as a doll.

seeing you do one of those funny mechanical bull rides with a cackling laugh has him achingly hard but that’s a discussion for another day.

he’s def the most likely to have a cowgirl girlfriend. i just envision it for him !

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - six (j.yh); section one

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. five | six (section 1); (section 2) | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3✨across stardust pinterest board

note: the end. thank you all so much for loving this story and being so kind and supportive. this fic has meant the world to me, and i hope you all are happy with the ending. there will be a short epilogue posted soon, but for now our story comes to a close.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, some general angst and upset emotions, allusions to a bad household growing up and cptsd, very frank coversations about idol life, pr, etc. saesangs and saesang invasions of privacy, discussions about delulu both fun and not okay delusion, but then also smut! including.... oral m!receiving, throat fucking, messy oral, cockwarming, dom!yunho, sub!reader, actual d/s dynamics even if it's kinda not defined, subspace but reader doesn't know that's what it is, fingering, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, light degredation, mostly praise, heavy on the good girls / pretty girls, cowgirl, absolutely intense multiple orgasms, creampie, dw they don't need to wrap it up they're married and in love

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 21.9k **note, this part was too long again for tumblr! please make sure you continue on to part six section 2, linked here!

The ring feels heavy on your finger when you wake up on Sunday morning to an empty bed, but you’re grateful for the weight of it. Without its presence you’d have nothing tangible telling you that the wedding happened at all, that you and Yunho were all of a sudden husband and wife. As the days of the week drag on, the ring becomes your tether. Every time you feel his spikes of anxiety, disappointment, or discomfort, you find yourself fiddling with the ring, your only true way of communicating with him while this is all happening around you, to you.  

By Tuesday you think you’ve memorized every divot and scratch on the band, and by the evening on Wednesday you’ve taken to spinning it in twisted little circles on your finger, so many times you probably have an indent already. 

On Thursday, you wake up once again to his side of the bed empty. You were up late the night before, a deep pit in your stomach, but once you fell asleep you really, truly slept. With Yunho gone, it’s hard to get rest like this, but somewhere in the back of your mind you know your body is trying to carry you both through the stress. 

When your eyes open it’s to a room bathed in full sun. For a second you feel relaxed, at ease, but the quiet of your apartment and the silence around you jolts you properly awake and you twist in the sheets to find your phone. 

Each morning, Yunho had been updating you on the negotiations. 

The meetings had gotten off to a rocky start to say the least, with their CEO truly blindsided by the sudden negotiations. Yunho hadn’t revealed too much about his reaction to the marriage, but you can put two and two together. 

Your eyes flick up to the clock on your nightstand and with the sharp sink of a stone in your stomach you realize it’s already ten. 

Scrambling in the sheets you search for your phone and hastily take off the Do Not Disturb. 

You have a missed call from an unknown number from eight thirty this morning, but then one simple text from Yunho sent only fifteen minutes ago. 

I know I said you wouldn’t need to speak with anyone, but our CEO would like to meet you.  

You sit down immediately, tapping back a fast reply - Meet me? 

He must be keeping a close eye on his phone, because his reply flicks back in record time - He wants to discuss your job directly, and it should be your choice how things are handled, not mine.

Your stomach flips, but he’s right - What time? 

Can you be here by eleven? 

You check the clock again - Yes. 

It takes a moment for him to respond this time, and you wonder if he’s in a meeting now and organizing things. If he’s speaking to the CEO directly, if their attorney is at his side. 

Your phone buzzes with his reply and you breathe out a sigh of relief - This feels like the last step, and I’ll be next to you the whole time. I love you. 

You text him that you love him too, and with a mix of tumbling excitement and panic in your belly, you get ready and start the all too familiar walk to the KQ offices. When you get there, you’re early and a new face from the security desk gives you a visitor’s pass and walks you towards the elevators. 

You haven’t seen Yunho in person since he kissed you on Saturday night and tucked you back into bed, but when the elevator doors open and you’re greeted with his face, everything melts away. 

“Hey,” He smiles, “I thought that was you,” 

“Hi,” You smile back, probably giving too much familiarity away for being in a shared hallway, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t care less anymore. 

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“As I can be,” You nod, “is he upset?” 

Yunho shakes his head, “No, but I don’t know, this whole negotiation process has been strange,” 

You take in a deep breath and nod, “Let’s get this over with then.” 

Without hesitation, Yunho takes your hand in his, “Let me walk you back,” 

Your heart stutters, your hand solidly in his within full view of anyone, but he doesn’t pull away or apologize like the touch was an accident, he meant to take your hand and he meant for people to see. 

His thumb smooths over your knuckles. 

“You’ll be in the meeting?” You double check as you start to follow him up the hall. 

“All of us will,” He assures you, “don’t worry.” 

You give his hand a squeeze and steady your racing heart. 

The CEO’s corner office is nice, but somehow still modest. That’s the first thought that strikes you as Yunho knocks lightly and opens the door, nothing like the last corner office you were dressed down in, flashy in ways that made you want to roll your eyes. 

You’ve met Kim Gyu-uk before, but it was brief and years ago when the teams were much smaller. He’s around sometimes on tour or gives rousing speeches at larger company parties, but otherwise the KQ CEO was largely out of your orbit, your jobs so vastly separate you rarely cross paths even in the halls of the same building. 

Despite that, he greets you with a smile like he’s been friends with you for years, standing the moment the door opens and crossing to the front of his desk to outstretch his hand to you. 

Your hand slips out of Yunho’s and you meet the handshake. 

“Miss y/n,” He shakes your head, “it’s very good to see you again.” 

“Oh,” You bow your head, “thank you,” 

“Perhaps I should say Mrs. Jeong,” He grins, eyes flicking between you and Yunho, “Yunho, now that your lovely wife is here I can offer proper congratulations.” 

Yunho wraps an arm around your shoulders, thanking him, but you have the strangest sensation that this can’t be real. He’s too kind, too pleased about the marriage, too congratulatory, and it makes your stomach clench with unease. 

“Alright,” He says after a moment, returning to his commanding side of the desk, “let’s chat,” 

Yunho guides you forwards to an empty chair, and you sink down into it, nodding to the rest of the men in the room, Attorney Choi at your right, Yunho at your left, and the rest of the members perched around the room in various spots. 

While there’s a subtle air of tension in the room, no one looks upset or outwardly stressed, and all you feel from Yunho’s side of the bond is anticipation. 

“So,” Kim Gyu-uk begins, “I trust that Yunho has been keeping you up to speed on our meetings this week?” 

He hasn’t, not nearly enough for you to feel confident in this meeting, but you nod anyways, “Yes, I think I’m clear on things,” 

He leans back in his chair, “Then you already know my position on your termination. While you two technically broke contracts and the company was within the right to fire you, I was not properly informed of the situation and of the true nature of your relationship. Mr. Minchul took it upon himself to handle it in the way that he did, and though I disagree with his actions, this is my company and my responsibility.” 

Yunho takes your hand back in his. 

“I apologize,” Gyu-uk says, “on behalf of the company and personally, you were treated without respect or consideration. I can assure you it won’t happen again,” 

“Oh,” You manage, “I… thank you, of course, thank you,” 

“Mr. Michul was let go this morning,” He adds. 

Your eyes widen, but Yunho leans forward, “What?” 

“Clearly we need a bit of housecleaning,” Gyu-uk offers, “you know we’ve never operated that way, and I don’t intend to start now.” 

Hongjoong smiles in your peripheral vision and nods, pleased. 

There’s a collective sense of relief, and your tense fingers start to relax. 

“Now,” Gyu-uk rests his elbows on the desk, leaning forward to address you, “as for your position here. I cannot offer you the same job,” 

Your heart sinks. 

“With your relationship,” He nods towards you both, “it wouldn’t be professional to have you work in such close proximity. I would say the same to any couple in this building,” 

You nod, “I can understand that,” 

“That being said,” He smiles, “I hope that you will accept a position working with the Xikers team,” 

Yunho smiles next to you, watching your face carefully. 

Gyu-uk continues, “You’d be in a slightly more senior role with that team of artists, but you’ve done great work for years with us, and until this I’ve never heard anything but positive feedback about you and your performance.” 

You’re stunned silent. 

Their CEO smiles and nods, “And of course,” he says, “Ateez may need an extra pair of hands on tour from time to time, if you’re comfortable with a certain amount of additional responsibilities and overtime,” 

Your eyes prick with tears, “Of course,” you interject, but then catch yourself, dipping your head and getting your emotions under control. 

Yunho rubs the back of your hand again. 

“Good,” He nods, “then Monday, can I expect to see you back at work?”

You swallow back the knot in your throat, “Yes, sir,” 

He nods, pleased. 

Attorney Choi clears his throat next to you, “I’d like to see her employment contract,” 

“I assumed so,” 

“We want explicit statements excluding their relationship from any of the standard language,” He continues, “and we expect an increase for a more senior position, even if Xikers is a junior group.” 

“Oh, I,” The words slip out, a slight shake to your head, you can’t lose this job when it’s been such a fight to get it back. 

Attorney Choi holds up a hand towards you, rendering you silent, but his eyes stay on their CEO. 

“I anticipated that already,” Gyu-uk laughs, a huff of air through his nose, “I’ll have the contract forwarded over for your review today. Satisfied?” 

“For now,” Attorney Choi nods, “where do we stand on our redlines?” 

It’s clear the conversation has shifted back to their employment contracts, and you make brief eye contact with Yunho and then Gyu-uk, “I’m sorry,” you interrupt, “should I step out?” 

He shakes his head, “Stay, we have a few more things to discuss.” 

Yunho separates your hands, shifting in his chair, and his hand finds a new home on your mid back. 

Their CEO looks to Attorney Choi and nods, “I am comfortable saying we have reached an agreement,”

You can practically feel the energy coming off the members at that sentence, and you glance to the side to see their faces. Hongjoong looks pleased and deeply relieved, and San and Seonghwa are grinning from their position at the far wall. 

Relief courses through you from Yunho. 

On his side you catch Mingi’s eyes, calm and betraying nothing, but you can see that he’s pleased and relieved too. Your eyes meet for the barest second, and in it he gives you a small, private smile. You can’t see the other members' expressions without twisting in your chair, but you imagine they’re feeling the same collective relief. 

“Can we agree on a five year term?” Gyu-uk continues, and you look back up. 

“Five years, with a salary review at three,” Attorney Choi says, completely calm and cool. 

There’s a pause. For a moment you wonder if this will push them back from the agreement and back into negotiations, but blissfully Kim Gyu-uk smiles. 

“You drive a hard bargain,” He says, reaching his hand across the table, “but I think we can agree to that.” 

Attorney Choi shakes his hand firmly. 

“Contracts will be ready for review by this afternoon,” Gyu-uk confirms, “if everything looks good, we can execute tomorrow and put this all behind us.”

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Dinner,” Gyu-uk says, “tomorrow after your recordings, my treat. We have much to celebrate.” 

In a snap the tension of the week is gone, and there’s a sudden rush of handshakes, hugs, the members erupting in a flurry of excitement all around you. You know from conversations with Yunho that they didn’t get everything they wanted in the renegotiation process, you know that’s how contracts work, but they got the important things. And you and Yunho got each other.

In the celebratory fray, Gyu-uk steps close to Yunho and claps him on the shoulder, “Now that that’s settled,” he says, “let’s have that talk,” 

Attorney Choi smoothly slides into the conversation, “Yes, let’s.” 

You glance between them. 

Gyu-uk nods and steps back, “Alright, everyone, I have some additional things to discuss with the happy couple,” 

Yunho leans in, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

You nod, but his words do nothing to soothe the strange sensation in your gut. 

“I’ll see everyone else for dinner tomorrow night,” He nods, “I’m glad we could reach an agreement, and I appreciate everyone’s additional time over the past week while we worked this through.” 

It’s the most professional and polite dismissal you’ve ever seen, but the meaning is clear. Gyu-uk wants the room cleared out, and he’s not waiting around for it to happen naturally. 

Hongjoong exchanges a quick word with Yunho as he steps out, “You good?” 

“Good,” He nods, “we’re fine,” 

Hongjoong nods, and then meets your eyes, “Glad to have you back, y/n,” 

“Me too,” You smile, “thank you, for everything, seriously,” 

He nods, shrugging a bit, “It’s nothing.” 

It wasn’t nothing, not at all. You know how many sleepless nights the members spent preparing for this moment, how many difficult conversations they had to get through. And while not every part of it was for you and Yunho, they put themselves on the line right alongside you both and you feel like you’ll never be able to thank them enough for that. 

After a moment, the room clears out, leaving you and your husband and your attorney, and a sea of empty chairs. 

Gyu-uk looks a little more serious this time, and he sighs as he takes a seat behind his desk. 

Nervous bubbles pop in your stomach. 

“I won’t lie to you,” He says, looking at Yunho, “you’ve put me in a hell of a position here, kid,” 

Yunho nods, “I know.” 

Gyu-uk waves you all down to a seat again and rubs his eyes, he’s tired too, you realize, “I want you to know, I would have agreed to dropping the clauses and having her back without the marriage. If you say you’re bonded, I personally believe that, and I can see it, it’s plain as day looking at the two of you.” 

Your heart thumps quickly in your chest. 

“In another life you would have made a good business man,” Gyu-uk laughs, “because this was one serious fucking ace of a negotiation tactic,”

He glances at you when he curses, “Excuse my language,” he says, but you shake your head to tell him it’s fine. 

“Sir,” Yunho takes your hand again, “I love my job, but you and your wife are soulmates, aren’t you?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes flick up and he nods. 

That’s new information to you, and your breath seems to stay trapped in your chest anticipating Yunho’s next words. 

“Tell me,” Yunho says calmly, “what kind of a man would I be if I left this up to chance?” 

Emotion bubbles in your chest and you blink back another tug of tears. 

Gyu-uk sighs and leans back in his chair, “Point taken,” he says. 

“I stand by my choices,” Yunho adds, his thumb passing over the band of your wedding ring. 

“I know,” Gyu-uk nods, “and you better keep that mentality, because I don’t know if you both have thought this through, but what happens from here is going to be ugly.” 

You grip Yunho’s hand a little tighter. 

“We know,” Yunho says. 

“No,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “you don’t know.” 

Yunho takes a breath, but Gyu-uk continues smoothly. 

“We’re going to take a serious hit from this,” He explains, “we’ll lose appearances, venues, brand deals. Fans are going to boycott, they’re going to say cruel things, girls are going to burn your photocards and say you betrayed them. Our revenue will take a dip, potentially a significant one, and that has ramifications of its own.” 

Yunho swallows tightly. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the honest scrutiny of his words. 

“What’s more than that,” Gyu-uk continues, “is what will happen to her.” 

Yunho’s posture broadens, defensive, his spine straighter as he takes in a breath to push back. 

“Her name, her family's names, where she lives, everything you’ve ever posted online will be scrutinized and picked through. That’s to say nothing of the fans that will cross the line offline; stalking, harassment, death threats,” 

Your breath feels thready, panicked. 

“Did you want this meeting just to scold them? Get to the point,” Attorney Choi interrupts, “They know the risks.” 

“Do you want that for her?” Gyu-uk continues. 

“Of course not,” Yunho’s jaw is set tightly. 

“You should have come to me first,” Gyu-uk says firmly, “I’ve known you since you were a boy, Yunho. I would have listened to you, and we could have made a plan for the two of you together,” 

Yunho shakes his head, “Sir, with all due respect I don’t know if I believe that. No matter how long we’ve known each other, I’m an idol on a rookie contract, and you’re still my CEO.” 

Gyu-uk regards him, his posture tight, and then he nods, “Maybe,” 

“‘Maybe’ wasn’t good enough for me,” Yunho says plainly, “and I may have let the company lead for me in the past, but this is about more than me now.” 

“I can understand that,” Gyu-uk concedes. 

Both of you wait for him to say more. 

“My point is,” Gyu-uk finally says, “you’ve put me on the back foot, and that’s not somewhere I enjoy being.” 

Yunho stays silent, unapologetic, but nods. 

“What I’m asking you now,” Gyu-uk says clearly, “after we’ve made our deals internally, is to buckle up for what we’re going to have to do.” 

The men on either side of you don’t say a word, and you glance between them before you finally speak up yourself, “Which would be?” 

Gyu-uk’s eyes click to yours, assessing, “We need to be on the right side of this story. You’ve worked with idols for years, are you clear on what that means?” 

“You want to announce it?” Your eyes widen a little. 

You were ready for the story to break at some point, and you and Yunho had agreed that being together was worth the risk of that, but going public this quickly still strikes you in the chest. 

“Immediately,” Gyu-uk nods. 

Yunho shakes his head, “Absolutely not,” he leans forwards, “we have time to figure things out,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk stares at him with a withering look, almost fatherly in amusement at Yunho’s naivete, “you can’t make a move this strong and then concede before the check mate.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens. 

“Catch me up here,” You rest a hand on Yunho’s leg and lean forwards to keep Gyu-uk focused on you. 

“This past week,” He explains, “we had discussed a strategy for how to handle the story of your relationship breaking. Standardly, the company line for dating scandals that don’t produce definitive proof is silence. When caught in something more serious or undeniable, there’s usually a lot of apologies from the idol, groveling, and again, silence from the company. In both of those scenarios there is no real room for the couple to be together.” 

“Okay,” You nod, hand sliding to find Yunho’s. 

“Marriage is different,” He continues, “it has a different public perception, so do soulmate bonds. Marriage is also legally binding, which I know both of you are very clearly aware of,” 

Yunho bristles a little, but Gyu-uk isn’t wrong, it’s exactly why you did it now. 

“There are three options as I see it,” He holds your gaze, and something tells me that these three things were made very clear to Yunho this week even if you’re still in the dark. 

“Option one,” Gyu-uk says, “we renegotiate and Yunho leaves the company on positive terms, leaving you both free to pursue whatever lives you want together.” 

Your breath quickens. 

“It’s clear from this week that option is not viable, but it is the path that would afford you both the most privacy.” 

“What’s option two?” You prompt him. 

There’s a strange flicker of appreciation in his face for your directness and he continues, “Option two is that we wait for you both to be caught and then run the company playbook. It’s not a matter of if that will happen but when given marriage licenses are public record and people outside of this room are aware of your relationship.” 

You nod. 

“Option three is to go public now,” 

“We don’t have to announce it right away,” Yunho presses, “we can wait a little while, figure out the best way, this isn’t,” 

“Yunho,” Gyu-uk interrupts softly, “we do, and you know that.” 

“What do you suggest?” Your thumb strokes over the back of Yunho’s hand, but you keep your focus on the conversation. 

“I have a larger plan put together with the PR team,” He explains, and then looks to Yunho, “but we are willing to take this risk with you for the good of the group. We have worked together since you were trainees, and I hope you understand that the reason we are even having this conversation is because I genuinely, genuinely believe this group is stronger with you in it.” 

Yunho nods, his eyes flicking down. 

“The company will announce it,” Gyu-uk says smoothly, “very clearly and in no uncertain terms you will have our support in that announcement. You will need to address your fans in a variety of posts, but the PR team thinks starting off with something personal on your Instagram is the right path.” 

“From there?” Your husband asks. 

“We remain positive and we handle the questions as they come,” Gyu-uk offers, “we’re wading into unprecedented territory here, but we will handle it all head on.” 

Yunho nods and then looks up sharply, “Does her name need to be in the announcement?” 

“Yunho,” You murmur softly. 

No matter how ready you both were for the oncoming storm the day of your wedding, it’s clear that here and now all he can think about is the risks, the worst case scenarios. 

“No,” Gyu-uk says, “and we’d like to keep your relationship as private as possible, not just for you, we really do not want to stoke things further and invite more inquiry. Y/n, your name will be public one way or another, but it won’t come from our announcement. You should prepare yourself for when it happens, but we’ll provide you with as much time as we can.” 

“Thank you,” You murmur. 

“She’ll need security,” Attorney Choi speaks up. 

Yunho nods, his hand tightening on yours. 

“That’s a given,” Gyu-uk says, “if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” 

Relief bleeds through your chest. 

“That being said,” He continues, “there is a chance this story is uncontrollable, that this industry is not ready for the change you want them to be ready for.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“We can only do so much,”

Yunho nods and looks from you to his CEO, “If that happens, I already told you, I will resign and I’ll make sure the members know it’s my choice. They won’t follow me,” 

Your eyes widen, your hand tight on his. 

“Yunho,” His attorney warns. 

“We will do everything we can to prevent that and avoid that,” Gyu-uk says earnestly, “that is not a path any of us want to walk. I give you my word on that,”

“This needs to be in writing,” Attorney Choi says, “if you want a stipulation for their relationship have an attorney draft-,” 

“No,” Yunho shakes his head, “no more contracts. I’m trusting you on this, and I give you my word too,” 

The assess each other quietly for a moment, and then Gyu-uk nods, “Alright,” 

Yunho’s hand rests on your back, “When do you intend to announce, then?” 

“We’re on a bit of a time clock with the next comeback,” Gyu-uk says, “but we’ll go to print on Thursday of next week. We’ll work through the language this week, and then Wednesday night you both will leave Seoul for a few days until the brunt of it blows over.” 

“Leave Seoul?” You ask.

”My brother has a house in Jeju. It’s private, rarely used, and far, far away from any newspapers or fans who would want to show up and harass you,” He explains, “consider it a wedding present,” 

You blink.

He sighs and then leans forwards, “Think of it as a way to get out of town and stay offline for a few days,” he says, “whatever the response is, it won’t be easy. Take a few days to yourselves and get your heads on straight, this is going to be a long process with a lot of publicity to manage. Let us handle it and get a few days alone,” 

You nod, and Yunho says, “What else?” 

“Nothing else,” Gyu-uk assures, “you both need to meet with Harin, and then you both need to lay low and let this play out.” 

Harin, the head of their PR team, was always available to nip and tuck a story into just the right language to sway public perception, and you’re not surprised in the least that this is where you’d be heading next. 

“If we’re doing it that soon,” Yunho says, “we need to discuss the apartments.” 

“What?” You turn your head, studying Yunho’s profile. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” Attorney Choi adds, “it would certainly make security easier.” 

Gyu-uk only looks at him.

“What apartment?” You ask again. 

Yunho turns his head to you, “We’re able to get our own apartments now,” he explains, “without managers living in unit as long as the building has approved security protocols and is within a reasonable distance to management and the offices,” 

You remember that clause in the paperwork you read, “Right,” 

He smiles, “I’m also contractually able to have a roommate,” 

You’re sure the surprise is all over your face. 

“So,” He turns back to Gyu-uk, “if we’re concerned about people stalking her or harassing her, I think she’s a lot safer living with me in a building that has security,” 

Gyu-uk sighs. 

“And I think you know better than anyone,” Yunho adds, “how much better I will be at my job if I’m not unnecessarily separated from my bonded soulmate,” 

For a moment, Gyu-uk shows nothing on his face but calm calculation, and then he nods, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lip, “I agree.” 

Yunho’s hand closes on yours, “Good,” 

Gyu-uk rubs his tired eyes again and then nods, “Let me speak with security, there’s not much time for us to get an apartment sorted before the announcement, but until we can, you’re of course free to stay with y/n at her apartment or at your dorm. But communicate clearly with management, no driving yourself or public transportation,” 

“y/n walks to work,” Yunho adds. 

“Not anymore,” Gyu-uk shakes his head, “not until we know what this is going to be like, is that fair?” 

“Absolutely,” Yunho agrees, “whatever we need to do.” 

All you can do is nod, once again your head spinning at the amount of information you’re being dropped into. 

“Alright,” He leans towards the telecom on his desk and presses a button, calling out to reception. You listen as he sets up a call with the head of the security team and as he directs Harin and the PR team to set up in the small conference room down the hall. 

“Last thing,” Gyu-uk says as he stands, clearly signaling the end of this conversation, “rings off, until the story breaks.” 

Yunho nods, “Fair enough.” 

“Stay discreet for a few more days,” He advises, “and then after that, well, we’ll take it as it comes.”

The meeting ends with more handshakes, with both of you being ushered into a conference room with the PR team who are more than prepared to discuss strategy at length. You don’t have a moment to debrief with Yunho, to drop your smile and take a breath and ask him how you got here to this result all of a sudden on a Thursday. Instead, you’re at another conference room table with a team of people who seem to know more about social media than you could have ever fathomed. 

Harin is a small woman, but within two minutes you can tell she’s a fearsome adversary when it comes to arguing and spinning a story. You’ve never been the subject of her inquiries before, but all of a sudden you’re center stage. 

For hours you pour over details in ways you couldn’t even imagine. Yunho seems unphased by the directness and the detail in their questions, but they peel apart every facet of your life and your connections until there’s no stone unturned, no surprise story about your life that could break without them knowing and having a pre-planned response. 

You don’t have any school drama, no history of bullying or bad behavior. Your relationship history isn’t all that scandalous, only one bad breakup, but it was him who cheated and not you. Your relationship with your parents is described as unfortunate, but not unfamiliar in their line of work. The PR team files these little facts away for a rainy day, detailed and meticulous in their every follow up. 

Harin is clearly pleased that you’re at least moderately attractive, but you watch the way they try to label you and market you, your tattoos at least ‘consistent’ and ‘feminine’ enough to be deemed trendy and artistic. She’s appreciative of your personal style, but when she suggests layering in particular designer pieces to look more elevated you start to think that Harin and her team can only communicate in backhanded compliments. 

By the end they’ve dissected you open. 

It isn’t until one of the PR team members asks you a pointed question about your gay sister that real annoyance flickers through you and Yunho interrupts, making it very clear that Hana and Em are not only off limits, they’ll be publicly supported by both of you if anyone publishes anything negative about them. 

Once again, Harin takes it all in stride, a perfect story and a perfect response for everything. 

It isn’t until the meeting breaks and the room clears out that you get a moment alone with Yunho to digest any of it at all. 

In the sudden quiet of the conference room, Yunho shifts back to work, fielding a litany of texts, his eyes tired as he catches up what he’s missed and invariably needs to make up from being trapped in board rooms all day, and you stay quiet. Your own gut is churning with discomfort, but you bite the inside of your cheek, and you wait. 

Eventually, he drops the phone to the side and sighs, his office chair spinning towards you as he reaches out to take your hand, “I’m sorry,” he says, “you must be so exhausted,” 

“Me? I’m fine,” 

“I didn’t realize they’d take you through all that today,” He admits, “Harin’s just thorough,” 

“Mm,” You nod, “it’s fine,”

He fixes you with a look, finally picking up on your flat tone, “How are you really? And don’t say fine,” 

You can’t lie, not to him. 

He squeezes your hand and you let out an exhausted breath of air, “It’s been a long day,” 

“I know,” He soothes. 

Your chest throbs a little and you pull back from him, “Yun,” you murmur, “why didn’t you tell me about the apartment? About you leaving the group if this goes badly?” 

His back straightens, “What do you mean?” 

“You have to be honest,” You sigh, “you have to talk to me.” 

“You’re upset,” He observes, his brows ticking up in surprise. 

“I’m not,” You say it, even though deep down you both know it’s not the perfect truth, “but you can’t keep handling everything by yourself and expect me to just be on board,” 

His face falls, “Are you uncomfortable with what we decided today? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” You take his hands in yours, “you’re handling all of this so well, but Yunho, what was the plan if Gyu-uk didn’t ask for me to be in the meeting? Would you have told me we were moving in together after getting the keys?” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, “that’s not it,” 

“Listen,” You settle him, catching his cheek in your hand, “I love you. I love that you’re trying to protect me from this, and I know this is new for both of us, but this is our lives together, we need to make decisions together.” 

“We are,” He presses, “I’m telling you everything, you read all the contracts, I’m,” 

“Yunho,” You press, “stop,” 

“You are upset,” He says. 

“Okay, fine,” You lean back, “I’m upset,” 

“Tell me,” He nods, expectant. 

“I’m trying to!” The words slip out, exasperation through your tone. 

Yunho looks surprised, but he just nods, “Go on,” 

“You think you’re talking to me about everything?” You ask the question calmly, clearly. 

He nods again.  

“Baby,” You shake your head, “you’re keeping me in the loop, but that’s it. You tell me what’s happening after the fact, and then you plug me in to make a decision when you need one,” 

“That’s not fair,” 

“I waited for you for days after I got fired,” You tell him gently, and his face falls, “and when I came back everything was already in motion and we were married before I could even blink. I am so, so happy to be your wife, please don’t misunderstand me,” 

“You regret it?” His heart hammers in his chest. 

“Never,” You slide closer to him, “never, ever. Listen to me,” 

His eyes study yours, his mouth snapping shut. 

“You are making big decisions about our life together without me,” You tell him gently, “I think because you want to shield me from all the bad parts about your life as an idol, or maybe because you think it’s your job as my partner, as my husband, to take care of the hard things so I only get the good parts.” 

His eyes drop. 

“I trust you,” You murmur, “with my life, my whole heart, but I don’t want a marriage like that.” 

His brows draw together, his hands tightening on yours. 

“I want you to tell me our options,” You continue, “I want to decide things together. I want to hear about the bad shit so we can face it together, get through it together.” 

He doesn’t look up. 

“If this all goes badly,” You tell him softly, “I don’t want you pulling the ripcord on your career because you decide you don’t want to put me through something. We’re bonded, we’re married, we’re going through it together no matter what, but I want you to talk to me so we can decide how to get through it together.” 

He sighs, dropping his head into his hands. 

You insist, “I know you’re just trying to keep me safe,” 

He nods. 

“I promise you, I can handle this,” You murmur, “whatever people say about me, whatever people do to me, I don’t care.” 

His head lifts at your words, his eyes flaring with sudden intensity, and his hands close over yours, “No one’s doing anything to you.” 

You can feel the sudden pit of fear in his body, and you shake your head, “Yunho, breathe.” 

His lips pull into a frown and he leans back in his chair, your hands still secured in his. Something’s frozen on the tip of his tongue, you don’t need a soulmate bond to tell you that. 

“What?” You murmur softly, squeezing his hand. 

 His knee bounces, nervous, strained energy bursting out of him until he finally says it, “Did you know that two years ago some fans, stalkers, put GPS trackers on our managers' cars?” 

You nod, “I heard,” 

“Did you know our old dorms were broken into?” He asks calmly, finally turning back to look at you. 

Slowly, you shake your head. 

“We came home after promotions and there were gifts in Yeosang’s room,” He explains, “and letters. A whole box of love letters that started off like fan mail and turned into threats,” 

“Against Yeosang?” Your eyes widen. 

He shakes his head, “No,” he murmurs, “against everyone else. The company was keeping them apart, the management was conspiring against them, the members were jealous of their connection,” 

“Jesus,” You breathe. 

“She was very sick,” Yunho explains, “but very fixated and very motivated.” 

“What happened?” 

“We had security footage, the company turned it into police and she was arrested,” He explains, “but that’s not the point,” 

Your stomach sinks. 

“I want you,” He laces your fingers together, “and I want to be with you in front of the world, all of that is true.” 

You nod. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of what that means,” He confesses, “I would shield you from the cruel things people are going to say online because I love you, and I know what that kind of attention feels like, but,” 

You squeeze his hands, your chest aching as he opens up to you more and more. 

With a deep breath he shakes his head, “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “when I say I’m terrified, it’s not about what people could say. It’s what people could do,” 

“Yunho,” You manage.

“I wake up terrified that someone will find your address,” You can feel his heartbeat thundering in your own chest, “that someone who doesn’t know me, but thinks they love me, will find you and hurt you or take you away from me in a way that I c-can’t,”

 His breath hitches on the word and he shakes his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind, “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you to be scared, but there are things we have to do to make sure you’re safe once people find out about us, and I won’t risk your safety.” 

“Come here,” You pull him close into a hurried embrace between the chairs, “you think I don’t worry about the same things?” 

He exhales heavily against your hair. 

“I’m not naive,” You murmur, “I’ve worked with you for years, I know what some fans can be like.” 

“Then,” 

“I’m safer if you talk to me,” You pull back to see his eyes, “we’re stronger together and that includes making decisions together. Trust me to know when something doesn’t feel right, let me carry this with you.” 

“y/n,” He murmurs, his expression pained, “some of this job is so ugly, so horrible. I just wanted to keep that from touching you,” 

“I know,” 

“If anything ever happened to you,” He shakes his head, cupping your cheeks.

“I know,” You assure him softly, “but nothing bad is going to happen to me,” 

He just looks at you.

“Yun,” You murmur, “I trust you to keep me safe, I trust your judgement with the company, the extra security, all of it. I just don’t want to be in the dark, I don’t want to be unaware and I don’t want you killing yourself with all this pressure.” 

He sinks forward, his lips connecting with your forehead, but he nods, “Okay,” 

“If we’re together,” You murmur, letting the feeling of his lips ground you to him, “then whatever happens can’t divide us,” 

He nods again, his shoulders sinking, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” You pull back, meeting his warm eyes, “we’re okay,” 

“Are we?” He checks, fingers soft on your cheeks. 

“Always,” You assure him. 

He smiles slightly, just a twitch of his lips, his dark brown eyes full of tenderness, “You’re everything to me,” he kisses you softly, “I’ll do better, I promise,” 

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours, “Me too,” you tell him gently, “we’re still just figuring this out. Six months ago we were co-workers, now we’re married,” 

He smiles properly now, “That’s true,”

“And it’s not as if I had the best track record with relationships,” You add, “figuring all of this out takes time, learning how to be the right kind of partner for each other takes time,” 

He hums, appreciative of your words, “I always thought it would come naturally with a soulmate,” he murmurs, “my parents always said it took work, but I never really understood that until you,” 

“Yeah,” 

He nods, sitting up a bit in his chair and sighing, “Together,” he says, “with everything.” 

“That’s all I’m asking for,” You reply gently. 

The tightness in both of your chests relaxes, the steadiness of your heartbeats in time bringing you both back down to center. 

After a moment, Yunho grins wide though and looks back up at you, “Was that our first fight?” 

A laugh bursts out of your lips and you cover your mouth with your hand, “I don’t know if that counts as a fight,” 

“You were upset,” He points out, “I upset you,” 

“I feel like fights have a lot more shouting, we figured that out pretty quickly,” You smile, leaning back in your chair. 

His brows pinch together, head cocking to the side at your words. 

“What?” You ask at his confused expression. 

“Yeobo,” He says slowly, “if that’s your definition of a fight, then I guess we’re never going to have one.” 

His confusion makes no sense to you, and you laugh reflexively, “That’s optimistic,” 

“I don’t shout,” He says, his eyes studying your expression, “not really at anyone, but definitely not at you.” 

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “marriage is hard, things happen. As long as we work through it though,” 

Yunho shakes his head again, “We’re not going to fight like that,” he says gently, “we’ll disagree sometimes and maybe we’ll hurt each other by mistake, but I’ll never raise my voice to you. I don’t do that,” 

Your expression falters. 

In the back of your mind there’s a steady image, your parents face to face, their expressions contorted in anger, shoulders squared off and tense, a broken vase at their feet on the kitchen tile. Hana hiding behind your legs, her small hands gripping your jeans, your body taut with a fraying cord of panic.  

Yunho’s hand gently smooths over yours, “My parents never yelled at each other,” he explains softly, and you wonder how much of your sudden thoughts he could see, feel the shape of, “even when things were difficult. Talking to each other like that,” he shakes his head, “that’s not something I want for us, you won’t get that from me.” 

You manage a nod, your throat tight. 

“So,” He smiles, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, “our first fight, I think we did pretty good,” 

You release a soft puff of air through your lips, his smile infectious, bringing you back once again from the bad memory, “Yeah, I guess we did,” 

“How can I make it up to you?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your lips, “After two weeks of being a controlling ass,”

You roll your eyes, “You weren’t being an ass,” you assure him, “and you’re forgiven, honestly,” 

He brushes past that though, “Dinner,” he says, “Gyu-uk said lay low for the week, but I have my phone back. Let’s do takeout over FaceTime?” 

You grin, nodding, “I’d like that,” 

“I’ll tell you all about this week,” He adds. 

“Mhm,” 

He stands and stretches his tired limbs, “It was eventful,” 

“I thought so,” You stand with him, packing away what little things you have out. 

“Harin said she’d email over the first draft of the announcement tonight too,” He adds, “let’s review it together?” 

You nod, “Perfect,” 

He starts to reach for the door and then doubles back, “Oh,” he says, making a face, “I almost forgot.” 

You watch as he reaches for his wedding ring, twisting it off his finger. 

“Can you keep this safe for me?” He holds it out to you, “Give it back to me on our way to Jeju?” 

You take the warm loop of metal and slide it onto your thumb, the only place it’s sure not to slip off, “Of course,” 

“I have to get to practice,” He murmurs, leaning in and kissing you one last time, “but I love you. Text me when you get home safely?” 

“I will,” You nod, still caught in his gravitational pull as he reaches properly for the door this time. 

Yunho walks you out the same way he walked you in, with a hand on your back, making sure you’re safely in the elevator before he finally leaves you. 

You start the walk home with both wedding bands securely around your fingers, and only then do you allow the pure feeling of relief to flood through your body. 

It’s done.

Finally, finally done. 

By the time you’re home, your face hurts from smiling. You’re dialing Iseul the second you’re tucked away where no one can hear you. 

For the first time in months, a conversation with your best friend isn’t laden with panic and what-ifs. For the first time you’re both laughing, practically giddy. You diagnose every aspect of what being on the Xikers team means for your career, you joke about getting her pulled over onto that team with you so you have the same schedules again. She tells you all about her confrontation with Eunji, the way she dressed her down in front of Dahan and made it perfectly clear she wasn’t a welcome member of their inner circle. You speculate how many days before she quits. You fall apart into peels of laughter at the idea of her quitting the day of the wedding announcement. 

You talk about the honeymoon like it’s a real one, not an island getaway to avoid the press. You try not to think about the fact that you and Yunho are about to change this industry forever. Instead, you just talk to your best friend, in a way that you sorely, sorely missed. 

While you talk, you play with Yunho’s ring on your finger, twisting it this way and that, carving another indent into your skin just for him. You keep it safe, guarding it the same way you’ve been guarding both your hearts since brushing his cheek in Berlin. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

This part of Jeju is quiet in the off season. 

Nestled along the shoreline of Seogwipo, you and Yunho wait in a house far too big for two people, but blissfully far away from any other properties, overlooking the dark blue water of the South Sea. Despite the privacy and romantic scenery though, you’re both on edge after arriving late last night and having hours alone with your thoughts before the public announcement. 

You’re still wrapped up in bed at ten the next morning, hitting refresh on the Ateez official Twitter account over and over, nervously double checking the clock and your WiFi connection just to be sure you haven’t missed it. 

“Is it up yet?” Yunho asks softly, two cups of coffee in his hands as he walks back into the large corner bedroom, his wedding ring back in its proper place on his finger. 

“Not yet,” You check your phone again for good measure. 

He sets the coffees on the nightstand and slips back under the fluffy white duvet cover, sliding towards the middle to sit next to you, “They’re probably double checking the language,” 

“Yeah,”

“It’s going to be alright,” He wraps his arm around your back, “we’re going to be alright,” 

“I know,” You breathe, “it’s just a risk,” 

“It’ll be worth it,” He promises, kissing your temple softly. 

You nod, and then the phone buzzes in your hands. 

Both of your eyes snap down and you tap the push notification from Twitter alerting you to the tweet you’ve been waiting for. 

Your heart starts to pick up in your chest as you tap the link to the official announcement, even though you already know exactly what the text will say. You and Yunho both had given your consent on it yesterday before you left Seoul, but that was when it was just a draft in an email. 

This is real. 

Both of your eyes flick over the words. 

KQ Entertainment Artist Announcement 

Hello,

This is KQ Entertainment. 

We would like to provide an update regarding one of our artists, ATEEZ Jeong Yunho. 

Earlier this week, ATEEZ member Yunho was married in a private ceremony, supported by his family and friends. The company offers sincere congratulations and well wishes to the couple. 

While we apologize for the sudden news and any concern this may cause fans, we ask for your kind understanding and support for Yunho at this time. Yunho will continue participating in all ATEEZ activities with the full support of KQ Entertainment. 

We will continue to prioritize the well-being of our artists both professionally and personally, and request that fans do the same. At this time, we request privacy for the couple. 

Thank you.

Yunho takes your hand and gives you a squeeze. 

“It’s really out there,” You breathe. 

He nods, “It is,” 

“How long until they figure out who I am, do you think?” You chew the inside of your lip, dropping the phone back onto your knees, the announcement still open. 

“Not long,” He murmurs, “your socials are all private?”

He’s asked that numerous times over the past few days of preparations, but you smile, “Yes, Yunho,” 

He exhales slowly and wraps his arm back around you, tucking you into his chest. 

Preparation for this announcement had been meticulous, the past week spent quibbling over every word choice and potential outcome.

To maintain as much privacy as possible, you and Hana and Em had all made your social media accounts private, and then you and Yunho had gone to Jeju to weather the storm and stay out of sight.

Yunho kisses your hair gently and brings you out of your thoughts, “Our management should be posting my announcement soon too,” 

You nod. 

Yunho leans to the side and grabs his phone off the nightstand and you watch as he lights up the screen to show dozens of notifications already. He swipes the phone onto Do Not Disturb and swallows audibly, and you feel the onset of nerves in his chest. 

“We’re okay,” You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. 

“Mhm,” He holds you closer, “I know,” 

You watch him navigate to Instagram, opening up his own profile, and he nods when he sees the new photo in his grid, “It’s up,” 

He hasn’t let you read it yet, and you shift in his arms to look up at him, “Can I?” 

He nods, placing his phone into your hands before sliding out of bed, “I’m going to get some water,” 

It’s a thinly veiled excuse, but you don’t press him. What he’s written must be deeply personal if he doesn’t want to watch you read it, and you let him go. 

He gives you one soft smile and then disappears again. 

Left alone with his phone, you take a deep breath and tap on the first photo in his grid. 

The post is simple, one single photo of Yunho. He’s far from the camera, sitting along a large stone wall overlooking the ocean in Japan. His head is turned slightly to the left so you can make out his profile and there’s a distinct, soft smile on his face. 

You tap open the text of the post and start to read. 

Atiny, I have something personal to share, more personal than anything I have ever shared before. 

While I know what I am about to tell you may cause concern for me or may upset you, you who I consider precious and beloved, I ask that you please read everything I have to say and remember that I am still your Yunho. 

Late last year, at an unexpected time and in an unexpected place, I accidentally bumped into a woman and knew the moment we touched that she was my soulmate. While she and I have known each other professionally for many years, we did not know that we shared this connection with one another until very recently. In complete honesty, which is what I think you all deserve, we did not know what we should do or how we could move forward and live honestly if we decided to hide this from the world. 

Those of you who have been lucky enough to find your soulmates will understand how difficult these decisions are, and how deeply your life is changed by finding your steadfast partner in life. 

We chose to be honest with our families, our friends, and our company and we will be forever grateful that we have received nothing but kindness and support. We chose to be married so that we could live honestly and openly in your eyes too.

As an idol, I have spent my life receiving love from you. Because of this, there are things I believe I should endure so that I may become a better Yunho and give more to my members and you, our Atiny. Those things are worth enduring to bring you a better Ateez, and I have taken personal pride in being called your happiness, I always will. But there are limits to what I think is fair for us as idols to endure, painful things that go beyond the bounds of what is normal for other professions and for what I believe is right. Idols conceal their relationships for years even after retiring from public life, and those who have announced their relationships have been met in the past with difficult words.

I speak for myself when I say it has been the greatest honor of my life to be a member of Ateez and to be able to feel love and support from our Atiny every day. But it would be dishonest to you and to myself if I did not stand up for my own happiness, and it would be both unfair and unkind to ask my partner, my soulmate, to hide herself away behind the shadow of my career out of fear. 

To my Atiny, I will always be grateful to you for the love and care you have shown me. You have taught me how to live well and how to love well, and it is because of you that have become the bright, energetic person that I am today. Now that I have met my soulmate, I can share that love with her too, someone that I can rely on, someone who helps carry me, and someone who I can spend the rest of my life with. 

I hope that you can give us your understanding and your consideration. I will always be your Ateez Yunho, and I will never stop working hard to be an idol you can embrace and be proud of. 

Atiny, you have been and will always be my happiness, but she is my heart. I can only hope that you can take care of us both for the years to come. 

You take a sharp breath as you finish reading, tears spilling over and splashing onto the screen, your eyes looping over the final sentence over and over again. 

“Was it alright?” Yunho’s voice is gentle, a little fearful, and your head snaps up to see him lingering in the threshold watching you carefully. 

“Alright?” You wipe the tears away with the backs of your hands, “Yunho, it was perfect, I don’t care what anyone says about us, I can’t believe you wrote all that,” 

His posture softens, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You take a breath, reaching for him, “I love you,” 

He climbs back into bed with you, arms wrapping around you, “I love you,” 

“It was so perfect,”

He nods, kissing your forehead, “I just wanted to be honest,” 

You lean into him, folding into a hug, until you’re both sliding back down into the bed and cuddling close. 

“It’s out there now,” He says after a few minutes, “everyone’s probably talking about it.” 

“Probably,” You nod, smoothing a hand up and down his arm, “but we’ve got this.” 

He nods, a ragged breath leaving his chest as he falls away from you onto his back, “Yeah,” 

You can feel the slight knot of tension in his gut, but you know he’s trying to stay strong and positive for you. Cuddling into his side again you kiss his chest, “Let’s let it be,” you murmur, “we’ll just hideaway right here,” 

His arm wraps around you, “Right here?” 

“Mhm,” You snuggle closer if it’s at all possible, “just you and me and this big bed. Ateez who?” 

That gets a laugh, and he turns into you, carding a hand through your hair, “Just you and me,” 

“Mhm,” You kiss his chest and he lets his head fall back to the pillow.

Your eyes flutter shut, sinking into the sound of his heart and the feeling of his warm skin. If you’re being honest, your mind is going a mile a minute too, but you focus on breathing in time with him. 

Time passes around you, both of you quiet and resting together, caught in your own individual thoughts. You keep your eyes closed, and for a moment you think Yunho might be falling asleep, his breath evening out and his arm relaxed on your back, but then a heavy pang of shame echoes through the bond and you blink your eyes open. 

The first thing you see is his phone as he quietly scrolls and studies something on the screen.  

“Hey,” You reach up, “what are you doing?” 

“Just checking,” He admits. 

Your eyes flick to the screen, and you see the comment that got a reaction from him. 

I should have known never to trust you. Too nice. Too sweet. It’s always a lie. 

“Stop,” You snatch the phone from his hand, locking the screen fast and putting it to the side. 

“I’m fine,” He swallows tightly. 

“You don’t seem fine,” You murmur, pushing yourself up to lean on his chest and look down at him. 

“I just,” His eyes flick away, “I wish there was a way to be with you that didn’t mean disappointing all of my fans, but they hate me now,” 

“They do not.” You argue. 

“They do,” He shakes his head, “you haven’t read the comments.” 

“The post went up ten minutes ago,” You counter, “the only people commenting are people that have you on post notifications, and I’d bet more than half of those people are the ones who will be the most mad,” 

“y/n,” He sighs. 

“Give it time,” You use the words he’s been using all week, “come here,” 

Pushing his phone farther to the side, you slide up on his chest and tug his mouth to yours. 

“Mm,” He laughs gently against your lips, “What are you doing?”

“It’s a honeymoon, right?” You kiss him again. 

“Yeah, but,” He grips your hips as you kiss him again, cutting off his words. 

“Let me make you feel better,” You murmur, peppering kisses down his throat, “take your mind off things.” 

“Oh,” He blinks as you shimmy down his body, “baby, I’m okay,” 

“Soulmate bond, remember?” You say, “I can tell when you’re stressed.” 

He swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple shifting under your lips. 

“I think we could both use the distraction,” You admit. 

You feel him soften under your body at that. 

Slowly, you separate your body from his and shift down to the bed between his open legs. His eyes are wide, a pretty flush already across his nose and cheeks, his chest rising and falling more quickly with the rapid onset of his arousal. 

He’s not fully hard yet, but you felt him start to get there at just the suggestion of sex, a firm press against your belly as you slid down over his body. As you peel away his boxers though, your hand ghosting over his cock to tease him, he starts to stiffen up fully, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen twitching at your touch. 

“Sweetheart,” His hands clench down on the duvet, “you’re killing me,” 

“I’ve barely done anything,” You tease him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” He shakes his head, “I think I’m Pavloved to get hard whenever you touch me,” 

You giggle, shaking your head at his words, “Oh yeah?” 

He hisses as your hand closes around his cock more firmly, his hips jumping, “Mhm,” 

“If that were true, wouldn’t you be hard all the time?” You tease him. 

“I basically am,” He smiles down at you, watching the way your hand strokes up and down over him, “you’re very distracting,” 

“Hmm,” You shift downwards in the bedding so that you’re laying on your front between his legs, propped up on your elbows as you continue to tease him, “that sounds difficult,” 

He snorts a gentle laugh, “I wouldn’t say wanting to fuck my wife all the time is a hardship,” 

Arousal bubbles up at his words and you can feel your face heating, “Well,” you murmur, grazing your nails up his abdomen and pushing up his t-shirt, “it’s a good thing you married me then,” 

“Why’s that?” His voice goes a little breathy as you cup his balls. 

“I’m pretty insatiable,” You press a kiss to his inner thigh, “I need a husband who can keep up,” 

He laughs again, his eyes growing hotter, tongue resting cheekily against his upper teeth, “I’ll show you ‘keeping up’,”

“I know you will,” You kiss him again, “we have days to keep ourselves busy,” 

“And distracted,” He groans lightly as you graze the underside of his shaft with your fingers again. 

“Exactly,” You kiss the velvet head of his cock and watch as his mouth falls open. 

“God,” He sighs.

“Just relax,” You murmur, teasing him slowly with a lap of your tongue, “forget about everything else,” 

He’s quiet at that, and when you search the bond you feel his tight hesitation. 

“Just be here with me, baby,” You touch him more, hands up and down his thighs, another lick, the teasing promise of your mouth, “fuck everything that isn’t you and me in this bed.” 

His breath catches, and you answer the sound by finally sliding your mouth down over his leaking cock. You start slow, practiced and measured, gentle bobs of your head up and down as you focus your tongue on his tip, the taste of his precum already salty and hot on your tongue. 

You lavish your mouth over him, focused on ridding him of any feeling but pleasure and need. Slowly you increase the pace, dropping your mouth down further, your nails scratching lovely lines into his thighs, doubling down on any touch that pulls a breathy noise from his lips. 

Despite his sounds, how you touch him, how you taste him, the knot of tension in his gut stays rock steady. You can feel his mind elsewhere. He’s tense, he’s stressed, and there’s an undercurrent of guilt and shame that you just can’t seem to shake out of him no matter how tender you are with your tongue. 

You know what he needs in a surprising pang of clarity, and strangely, you want it just as much as he does. 

You pull back from his cock to take a breath, and without a glance up at him, you find his hands with yours and draw them close. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you guide his hands to your head, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes flicking up to his, “I trust you,” 

He studies your face for a moment, and then his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He swallows tightly, and you feel his fingers sink pleasantly into your hair. 

“This okay?” He checks, his fingers tightening against your scalp just a fraction. 

It’s been years since you’ve allowed anyone to touch you like this, but Yunho’s hands feel perfect. 

It feels good. 

You nod again, your heartbeat quickening in your chest in anticipation.

“If you want me to stop,” He brushes one hand over your hair, keeping it back from your face, “tap my thigh, I’ll let go,” 

“I trust you,” You echo it again, and then you dip back down to take his cock deeply in your mouth, his hands heavy on your head. 

He groans earnestly this time, like he can’t stop the sound from ripping out of his chest, and you know he’s restraining himself still but you can feel his satisfaction in the way his fingertips press down. 

“Jesus,” He manages as you bob your head back up and then down, sinking him as far down your throat as you can, “baby,” 

You stay focused on his cock, teasing him with your tongue, sharp sucks, humming sensations at the velvet tip. 

His hands stay gentle, but present, taking it at your pace and letting you drive. 

When you pull off to take in a breath, you pant out one word, “More,” 

His body freezes, his breath caught in his chest, but you’re already back to sucking him sweetly, and he can barely contain himself as he watches you give everything you have to his cock. 

Slowly, experimentally, Yunho applies more pressure to your head, pushing you down on him just a little to see how you’ll take it. 

Your shoulders relax, and you let him push. This normally scares you, it makes you panic and scramble away with anyone else, but with him? After everything? It’s perfect and dizzying, and all you feel is overwhelming care from his side of the bond. 

You go lax in his hands the more he guides you, and you can feel his hips aching to move under your hands. 

You moan, silently begging him for more, when he stops things.

“F-fuck,” He pulls his hips back, drawing his cock from your lips, “come here, baby,” 

Dazed, you lift up to look at him, “What?” 

“Come here,” He beckons you up to him, “I want you closer,” 

His hands slide under your upper arms, gently tugging you towards him and you climb over his thigh, following his direction until you’re kneeling at his side, your knees by his hips. 

He shifts up in the bed until he’s somewhat seated, reclined against the pillows and headboard, and then he reaches out and cups your cheek, “Come lay down,” 

“Here?” You start to shift like you’re going to lay down next to him the same way, but he shakes his head. 

“Like this,” His hand presses against your back, drawing you down towards his abdomen again, and you realize how he wants you. 

You relax down until you’re curled up, your back to the headboard and your cheek against his stomach. 

Yunho rubs your back, soothing you into the new position, “There we go,” 

Like this, every stitch of his anxiety seems gone. Something deep seated in his body needed to touch you like this, see you like this, and you shiver in anticipation. Positioned like this, all you feel is deliciously submissive. 

“Can I touch your hair like this?” He asks softly. 

You nod against him, “Yeah,” 

“Mm,” He sighs pleasantly, “thank you, baby,” 

Your chest expands with dizzy warmth, and his hand tenderly passes over your hair twice before settling into a comfortable spot on the crown of your head. 

“Ready?” He murmurs. 

You nod. 

“That’s good,” His voice is so warm, low in his chest, “put those pretty lips around my cock again, sweetheart,” 

You melt into him, shifting forward to sink down over his shaft again. 

This time, Yunho’s in control, you’re under no illusions otherwise. You moan as he slowly pushes your head down, directing his cock in just deep enough that it settles heavily on your tongue without irritating the back of your throat. 

“Good girl,” He says, and at that your eyes flutter pleasantly closed. 

You press the flat of your tongue to his cock and relax your mouth, breathing in and out slowly through your nose. 

Yunho finds your hand and lifts it, placing it over his thigh, his hand tightening over yours to illustrate his words, “Tap and we stop, okay?” 

“Mm,” You reply, mouth still full of him. 

“Show me,” He strokes your hair. 

You tap his thigh twice, sharp and unmistakable. 

“Good,” He croons. 

Something about this tone from him has your body unspooling. You were just meant to take his mind off the hate comments, distract him with a little blowjob and maybe take a nap after, but something about this feels like therapy for you too. 

“So pretty for me,” He sighs, stroking your hair, letting his cock rest heavy between your lips. 

You sigh, your mind going soft. 

With his wide hand on your head, he applies a little pressure, directing you into a slow, bobbing motion, “There we go,” he says as you catch on, “that’s it, honey,” 

Your eyes roll, your hand gripping his thigh for purchase. 

He keeps this pace for a while, both your head and his hand moving with deliberate sluggishness. Curled against his side you find yourself breathing in and out deeply, almost meditatively, and with his free hand, Yunho continues to rub your back. He makes no attempt to touch you any other way, just slipping his hand under your loose sleep shirt to feel your skin and soothe you as you take his cock like this. 

Slowly, his hips start to move. First in time with the motion of your head, little undulating thrusts that push his cock a little deeper down your throat with every upstroke, but then you feel his hand tighten on your hair. 

You want him to take it.

That’s your single coherent thought as you whine around his shaft, his hand gathering your hair into a loose fist. 

“Good girl,” He groans, “making me feel so good,” 

You hum again, body relaxing in his grip. 

“Letting me use that perfect mouth,” His voice sounds tight again, thready with his own pleasure. 

You moan at his words, saliva pooling in your mouth, dripping and messy down his cock as he picks up the pace. 

“That’s my girl,” He thrusts a little more, fucking your mouth properly now, “oh, god, look at you,” 

Your eyes are watering, your jaw starting to ache, but don’t want to stop, not even close. 

“Can you take it deep, pretty girl?” 

“Mm,” You nod a little, dropping your head down as far as you can with your hair caught in his fist. 

“Oh, fuck,” He sighs, “of course you can,” 

With a push on your head and a jerk of his hips he buries the full length of his cock down your throat and holds you there. 

Your hand tightens on his thigh and Yunho waits, his body still, giving you the easy opportunity to tap out, but you don’t. 

His hand leaves your back, reaching around to cup his own balls and feel just how deeply you’re taking him. He groans, “So perfect,” 

You make a tight noise, the first tickle at the back of your throat, and he lifts your head up to give you a break from the overwhelming sensation of him stretching your mouth. In a second though he’s back to his pace before, sharp thrusts that drag his cock over your tongue, his breath getting more audible as he uses you. 

You can tell he’s close before he says it, the feeling of his pleasure building in your own gut, but you still moan when you hear him say it, his words punctuated by sharp pants, “I’m gonna come, baby,” 

It happens fast, with a jerk he pulls you off his cock entirely and you suck in a full, startled breath of air. 

He fists his cock, his arm wrapped around you, and he pumps himself hard and fast. 

“Fuck,” He shudders under you, “I’m close,” 

“Please,” Your voice is hoarse, but you nod, holding yourself up with your hands braced on his thighs, “Come,” 

He shudders, groaning, and you close your eyes again as his orgasm hits, warm cum splattering over you - painting your chest, your throat, ropes of his release on your lips and cheeks. 

You’re both breathing heavy, trembling, but Yunho clears the fog with a shake of his head and he releases his tight hold on your hair, easing you down to the bedding. He slips out from under you, dipping off the edge of the bed and you watch as he pulls his boxers back up and darts into the master bathroom and back out again, a damp washcloth in his hands. 

He’s sweaty, his neck and cheeks still dark pink, and you smile up at him as he kneels on the bed to get closer to you. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, “relax, let me clean you up,”

Your mind feels mushy and delicious even though you haven’t even come, and all you can manage is to hum a soft, affirmative response as he quickly wipes away his release from your skin. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, taking stock of your body language, your facial expression, how you’re feeling in the bond, before tossing the towel aside and laying down to be eye level with you. 

“Jagi,” He says softly, fingertips gentle on your jaw, “are you alright?” 

“Mhm,” You nod lazily. 

“I know that was big,” He massages your jaw with light pressure, “tell me how you’re feeling,” 

Words still feel distant, almost foreign, and you blink, “Good,” you manage. 

His lips turn up on one side, “Floaty?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, and you don’t know how he picked out the perfect word for how you’re feeling but he did. 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, “I got you, baby.” 

He wraps you up in his arms again but keeps his eyes on your face, guiding you through whatever soft, blissful feeling you’re swimming through. 

“Love you so much,” He whispers as he kisses your forehead. 

Little by little, your body and your mind seem to come back online, and finally you blink up at him, “Was that okay?” 

“It was amazing,” He assures you, “you’re amazing,” 

You smile, feeling strangely shy. You’ve never done something quite so intimate, never surrendered control like that. You’ve always liked men to be a little bossy, and you’ve loved how direct and vocal Yunho is when you have sex, but this was something altogether more intense and you’ve never felt safer or more held by him. 

His fingers slip into your hair again, massaging your tender scalp, “Was I too rough at all?” 

“No,” You breathe, “just right,” 

He smiles at your expression and nods, “Good,” 

“You feel better?” You manage. 

“Mhm,” He huffs a small laugh as if to say it’s obvious, but then he directs the attention back to you, “did you like that?” 

“A lot,” You confess. 

He grins this time, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, leaning your head back unconsciously into his hand, “you were so gentle,” 

“Good,” He softens, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, “I love you,” 

“Love you too,” You sigh. 

Yunho gently lets you relax back down onto your back before he slides off the bed again, “I’m going to start the bath for you, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “that sounds nice.” 

“I’ll be just in there, okay?” He nods towards the bathroom, “I’ll come get you in a minute,” 

“Okay,” 

He gives you another smile, and then disappears through the bathroom door. 

For a minute you take stock of your body. You feel relaxed down to your very core, something about the way Yunho held you and touched you during the blowjob felt primal, essential. You stretch out your limbs against the mattress, listening to the steady pour of the water from the next room, and by the time you sit up in the bed you feel strangely proud. It feels like a new chapter, maybe even an entirely new book. 

You pull yourself off the bed and right the sheets, and your eyes catch on Yunho’s phone. 

The rest of the world was undoubtedly talking about you both right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not after that. You take your phone and his and place them both face down on the bedside table, and resolve not to look at them again until much, much later. Whatever the world was saying would have to wait. 

You step into the doorway of the bathroom and smile when you see him again, pangs of your own arousal thrumming back through you. 

Yunho’s crouched by the side of the large, deep porcelain tub, his hand under the steady stream of water to gauge the temperature. 

“Almost ready?” You ask him. 

His head turns a little at the sound of your voice, “Yeah,” he says, “how are you feeling?” 

“Honestly? Kind of amazing,” You say. 

“Good,” He sighs. 

With a smile, you pull your sleep top off. 

Yunho passes his hand through the water in the tub, “it’s a little warm,” 

“I like warm,” You let your top fall to the floor and tug on the drawstring of your pants. 

His back is still to you as he adjusts the temperature of the water one last time. 

While he’s not looking you push your pants down and kick them away, your underwear right along with them, so that when he turns back around you’re naked and standing in the bathroom doorway. 

“I think if you want,” He starts to say as he looks up, but the words die on his lips and his eyes rake over you in an instant. 

“If I want what?” You smile, stepping into the room properly. 

“Want what?” He fumbles over his words, brow creased with confusion as he meets your eyes again. 

“Flustered,” You tease him, “that’s cute, you’ve seen me naked before,” 

He recovers, smirking and reaching for you, “It really does not get old,” he says, “now come here and let me touch you,” 

“Yeah?” You can’t help but take your sweet time, loving his hot eyes on you, the way his voice gets deeper when he sees you like this. 

He takes two steps towards you, pulling off his white t-shirt and letting it drop to the floor beside your discarded clothes, “I said, come here,” he murmurs as he gently tugs you into his space, “and let me touch you.” 

His hands travel over you slowly, lovingly. 

For a split second you think of the world outside, your phones on the nightstand, and you dip closer to press yourself against his bare chest, soaking up the feeling of so much skin on skin. 

“Hey,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, “you okay?” 

You nod, “I’m good,” 

“You sure?” He checks, feeling the sudden pangs of tension in your chest. 

“Yeah,” You kiss his bare chest, “I just thought about everything else for a second,” 

“Mm,” He hums, a hand softly in your hair, “I got you, let’s just relax,” 

He draws you to the edge of the bath and checks the water once again, but you’re already reaching in, finding the water just the right amount of hot. He’s shucking off his boxers as you straighten back up to tie up your hair.

“Perfect,” You step directly into the water. 

Yunho’s hand settles under your elbow, “Careful,” 

“Babe,” You chastise him lightly, but if you’re being honest the affection in his voice and his tender care with you is something you could never really tire of, not when it’s him. 

“I don’t want you to slip,” He admits, stepping in behind you until you’re both standing in the center of the deep basin of water. 

“Mhm,” You start to say more, but his arms wrap around you loosely, his body nestled close to yours. 

“Look at that,” He says, nodding towards the floor to ceiling window along one wall of the bathroom. 

You look back up at the view and any teasing thoughts slip out of your mind. It’s beautiful, a private view only for your eyes, hidden away from the world entirely. The dark rocky beach outside leads right into the bright blue ocean, a little slice of heaven tucked away along the coastline in Jeju. 

“Now this,” You sigh, “this feels like a honeymoon,” 

Yunho kisses your shoulder, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” 

He kisses you again and then shifts back to sit down in the bath and you sink down into the water with him. His hands slide across your body and draw you back so that you’re settled between his open legs, your back resting on his chest. 

“Not too hot?” He asks. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head against the broad plane of his shoulder. 

Tangled together in the warmth of the water you rest, letting the tension in your muscles unspool, watching the waves surge against the rocks outside. For a while you just let it be, his arms wrapped around you in the cocoon of the water, fingertips grazing gently along your skin. 

“It looks like rain,” He finally says softly. 

You nod, “A storm,” 

“That’s alright,” He kisses your hair, “we don’t have anywhere to be,” 

You soften in his embrace, cuddled against him, “True,” you murmur, “just here.” 

“Tonight,” He says, “I’m thinking, movies on the couch? The TV out there is huge we could set it up like a theater,” 

“Like a sleepover,” You smile.

“Great idea,”

 “We’ll bring the pillows and duvet out,” You say, “oh, and snacks,” 

You feel his happiness, his contented warmth through the bond, “I love it,” 

Turning your head, you catch his bicep with a quick kiss, “This house is so nice, this is like rich rich.” 

He hums, gathering you a little closer, “Yeah,” he nods, “do you like it?” 

“It’s nice,” You tell him honestly, “this view is crazy,” 

A few birds cut across the darkening sky, the waves rougher against the rocks, but inside it’s perfectly silent and warm. 

He huffs a little laugh against your hair, “You want a house like this?” 

You shake your head immediately, “That’s crazy,” 

“Why?” He kisses your hair. 

“Yunho,” You nudge him gently with your elbow. 

“Yeobo,” He says affectionately, amusement in his voice, “I have money,” 

“Not this much money,” You laugh. 

He’s quiet, not laughing along like you’d expect, and then he clears his throat, “I do, actually,”  

You turn your head, twisting to see his face, “What?” 

“Uh,” He blushes a little, “well yeah, when I was eighteen my father helped me set up a few funds for myself, a way to keep my salary set aside as a nest egg and then some investments.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Now that I’m sure we won’t have to pay back any debts, and we’ll start getting properly compensated for the albums,” He smiles, “well, if I don’t have enough to buy this house today, I’ll have it in a year or two.” 

“Fuck,” You blink, the curse slipping out. 

He laughs, his head dropping to lean his forehead against your hair, “Did you think I was completely broke?” 

“You always hear about idols who never get their paychecks,” You counter, “like five years in and they don’t have a cent,” 

He shakes his head, lifting up to meet your eyes, “Well, I’m definitely not broke,” he smiles, “I like that you married me anyways, though,” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the chest, water sloshing around you, “Shut up,” 

He grins, “So,” he gestures with a jerk of his head to the room, “you want a house like this someday?” 

“This?” You shake your head, “This place is too much,” 

He looks amused at that idea. 

“Do you want a house like this?” 

He shrugs, “We could,” 

“You’re serious,” You laugh, still wide eyed in surprise. 

“You’re cute,” He kisses your lips once, before shifting you back to your reclined position in his arms against his chest, “you really thought I was broke,” 

“I don’t know,” You grumble, finding his hand under the water and thoughtlessly playing with his fingers. 

He smiles against your hair, and the sky outside opens up with rain. For a few moments you both rest together again, and then he murmurs a soft question, “y/n,” he says, “before Berlin, what did you imagine for your life?” 

 “My life?” You turn your head a little, your cheek against his wet chest. 

“Mhm,” He hums, the warm vibration of his tone running through you, “did you have big career dreams? A house in the country? You’ve never said,” 

You smile, your eyes locked on his wedding band and yours under the water, “I don’t know,” you confess, “for a long time I was just focused on making it out of my house, and then focused on protecting Hana,” 

He strokes your arm gently, listening quietly. 

“I imagined finding my soulmate someday,” You murmur, “and I love Seoul, I think it would be hard to leave the city. I love my life there, and my work is definitely suited for it,” 

“Mm,” He nods. 

“I don’t know,” You confess, “I just want a place of our own, somewhere we can make memories, I’ve never really worried about how big or how nice it would be,”

“I’d like that,” He murmurs. 

Your eyes drift shut and you think about your life, the images you played in your mind over and over while you waited for his call at Hana and Em’s. 

“I’d like a garden,” You continue, “and a nice kitchen. I’m not the best cook, but I’d like to learn,” 

Yunho’s hand laces with yours and he brings them up out of the water to kiss your knuckles, “What else?” 

“Hmm,” You shiver at the cool air in the room and he wraps you up, “a big bed, you’re so tall.” 

He laughs. 

Your stomach flip flops and you let your eyes open, finding your rings again before you confess a little more, “Maybe some extra bedrooms,” 

Yunho’s breath catches, his body stiffening behind you, “Yeah?” His voice is small, tentative as he searches for your meaning. 

You swallow tightly, a nervous bubble in your chest, “Enough space to grow into,” your voice nearly a whisper, “if we want a family?” 

He’s quiet, but his lips drop to rest on the crown of your head. He takes in a slow breath and then says, “How many extra bedrooms do you think we’ll need?” 

Warmth floods the bond, unfettered tenderness in your chest, “Maybe two?” 

Yunho squeezes your hand, “Two’s great, two’s perfect,” 

“You think so?” Your smile grows. 

He nods, “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“Someday,” You kiss his arm again. 

“Someday,” He agrees, his hand coming to rest over your soulmark, his palm warm over the sensitive skin of your looping red tattoo. 

You hum pleasantly as he kisses your forehead, your eyes drifting shut with a sigh. For a minute, you just listen to the rain against the window, your hearts syncing up their rhythms. The water laps around you with every little movement, relaxing you both into a pliant, warm mess of limbs. 

Yunho shifts behind you, and then the hand over your soulmark shifts, and you gasp lightly as it closes over your breast, kneading the soft flesh with gentle firmness. 

“Oh,” You exhale, “that’s nice,” 

“Mhm,” He squeezes your breast again, fingers teasing gently at your nipple while his opposite hand drifts down your belly, a promising descent towards your parted thighs. 

Your body responds instantly, heat reigniting to the surface. 

“I think it’s your turn,” He murmurs. 

You nod against his chest. 

“Let me take care of you, pretty girl,” He says as his finger curls over your mound and dips into your slick folds. 

“Oh, yes,” You sigh, letting your legs fall open a little more, your knees pressing against Yunho’s inner thighs. 

“Mm,” He slides his fingers over your clit, “you’re wet,” 

You can feel that you’re slippery from how easily he’s touching you, the bath water not enough to dull how much you want him, and you nod. 

“Are you that easy?” He says appreciatively, “Or have you been wet this whole time?” 

You moan as he rocks his fingers, “Whole time,” 

“Sucking my cock got you wet?” He teases. 

You nod, your legs straining to open wider despite the lack of space in the tub. 

“Look at you squirming,” He dips his head, nudging your face to the side so he can kiss your temple. 

“Feels good,” You sigh, your hips twitching to chase the stroke of his fingers as he rubs you. 

Yunho pulls his fingers away from your aching cunt and you suck in a sharp breath, “Relax,” he nips at your ear, “I’ll make you come,”

“But,” You manage, breathless already. 

“Let me touch you,” His hands feel heavier on your body this time, dragging up your stomach, over your sides, cupping your breasts in his large hands. 

You buck as his fingers tease at your nipples. 

“So sensitive,” He comments softly, “I wonder if you could come just from this?” 

“From this?” You gasp sharply as his fingers flick back and forth over your hardening nipples. 

Pleasure arcs through you, molten and throbbing from your chest down to your clit, and you grip down on his thighs. 

“That good?” He adjusts, leaning forwards a bit so he can kiss down your neck, sucking over your pulse point as he teases your nipples. 

You whine sharply, hips bucking on their own, “Oh, god,” 

He squeezes both your breasts again and groans, “Oh, baby,” he sighs, “one of these days I’m going to spend all night playing with these perfect tits,” 

“Please,” You pant, but what you really need is his fingers on your clit again. 

“Mm,” He drags his hands down, exploring your body under the water again, “I want to do everything with you,” 

“Yeah,” You breath, head lolling back onto his chest again, “yes,” 

Yunho’s hands settle on your hips, and then they stop. 

An involuntary whimper bubbles out of you and your hips rock, looking for some kind of touch, some friction. 

He takes in a slow, steady breath and then exhales against your temple, “What do you want, jagi?” 

Your hand searches for his, trying to tug it down between your open thighs, “You know what I want,” 

“Do I?” You can feel his smirk against your skin. 

Yunho lets you move his hand, pushing it into the right place over your slit, but he doesn’t move at all. You press down over his hand, trying to get his fingers back in the right spot, “Yunho,” you whine.

“Ask me nicely,” He says simply, “ask for what you want, and I’ll do it.” 

“Touch me,” You beg. 

“I am touching you,” He squeezes your hip. 

“Yunho,” 

“Ask me nicely,” He enunciates every word, his lips against your ear. 

Your heartbeat picks up, hammering in your chest. This side of him brings out something in you that you never understood before, but now you don’t know if you could feel this good any other way. 

“I already know what you want,” He murmurs, “I want to hear you ask for it,” 

You swallow tightly, “Please, Yunho,” you say, “will you make me come?” 

He smiles against your ear, “How?” 

Your nails dig into his skin, “Rub my clit,” 

“Uh huh,” He nods, prompting you. 

“Please,” You correct, realizing what he wants to hear, “Will you rub my clit, please?” 

“Of course, baby,” He teases, and all at once he starts to play your body like an instrument. 

His fingers shift over your clit, circling with perfect, firm pressure, and his other hand slides up your body, his fingers splayed wide over your chest and pinning you in place to his shoulder. 

You arch into him, one hand flying out of the water to grip the side of the tub, “Oh, fuck,” 

“There you go,” He says low against your forehead, “does that feel good?” 

“So good,” You shudder in his arms, “don’t stop,” 

“Not gonna stop,” He promises, his fingers sliding through your slick slit to gather more wetness, doubling his efforts on your clit. 

Your eyes slam shut, your body rocking against him as he cages you in, and you feel the stiff length of his cock nudging at your back the longer you writhe against him, the only sounds in the room, your echoing moans and the rhythmic slosh of the water. 

“Love you like this,” He groans, his hand sliding up to the base of your throat, “who knew my soulmate would be such a needy, filthy girl?” 

Pressure tightens in your gut, “God, oh god,” 

“And so good for me,” He sighs, rolling his fingers faster, “you like being told what to do, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” Your mind is starting to fray at the edges, only pleasure and his voice and the warm water. 

Yunho leans forwards in the tub, sitting up properly and slipping the hand that was on your throat under the water and between your legs. You’re not ready for the sensation of two of his fingers pushing inside you, and you gasp, your hand slipping on the porcelain lip of the tub, your body snapping forwards. 

“Ah, ah,” He’s quick to catch you, pulling his fingers out and bracing you back against his chest, “careful, babygirl,” 

You can’t say a word, your body too close to the edge. Your hips rut with needy, artless jerks into the firm press of his fingers, and you reach back to grip onto his shoulder, a whimper on your lips. 

“Suck,” He says suddenly, pressing two of his fingers through your lips, and you accept them with ease, “good girl, good girl,” 

You taste yourself on his fingers, lips closing instinctively just like he wanted you to, and through the dizzy haze of your almost orgasm you suck, taking them heavy on your tongue. 

He groans, his breath hot on your ear. 

Whimpering, your legs jerk with a spasm of sensation, just a little more and you’ll tip right over. 

Yunho laughs, amusement in his voice at how quickly you’re following his every direction, “Oh,” he drags out the sound to tease you, “needy girl,” 

You whine, clinging to his slick shoulder. 

“Come like that, just like that,” He says, “suck on my fingers while you come,” 

You inhale sharply through your nose, head digging into his shoulder as you arch, “Mm, mm!”

“There it is,” He pants, rubbing your clit faster, “there it is, come on, sweetheart, come for me,” 

Your orgasm slams into you, and you shudder in his arms, your body jerking so sharply that water sloshes over the side of the bath, but he just stays focused and works you through it. 

You jerk your head and he pulls his fingers free as you moan out the broken sound of his name. 

“I got you,” He kisses whatever part of your skin he can reach at this angle, “I got you, that’s it,” 

When his fingers finally slow, your brain is buzzing. You’re slumped lower in the water, your legs clamped together and bent at the knees, and you're shaking from your top to your toes. 

“Holy shit,” Yunho breathes, his hands finding your waist to pull you back up out of the water and against his chest again. 

You manage a nod, but your chest is still heaving. 

He kisses the side of your head hard and chuckles, “I think you have an oral fixation,” 

His words don’t sink through the cottony afterglow of your brain though, “Hmm?” 

“Nothing,” He smiles, “not a thing,” 

You feel the hard nudge of his cock against your lower back, and you twist in the bath, more water sloshing over the sides as you follow the needy pull inside you, finding his mouth, “Kiss me,” 

He groans against your lips, his tongue flicking against yours. 

“I want you,” You confess, trying to turn around despite the tangle of his long legs, “please,” 

He nods, but pushes you back, “Let’s go to bed, the bath isn’t big enough for that,” 

“Yeah,” You slide backwards in the tub through the water, and try to stand but find your legs still a little weak. 

“Hang on,” He holds a hand out to you, keeping you in place. 

He climbs out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel from a hook on the wall and tossing it down on the wet floor to keep you both from slipping, and then he locates two luxuriously fluffy looking white robes and smiles down at you, “Here, baby,” 

He pulls his robe on first, and then holds one out to you, slipping it on you as you get out of the tub. You wrap the robe around yourself, tying the cord, but before you can dry off properly, Yunho pulls you into his arms, one arm under your knees as he carries you. 

A startled noise slips out and you laugh, “Yunho!” 

“You’re still shaking,” He says, stepping back into the master bedroom, “I’m just helping,” 

He tucks you both into bed despite your still wet skin, yanking the fluffy duvet up over both of you until you’re completely encased under the covers with him. He tugs you close, wrapping his arms around you until you’re chest to chest, nose to nose. 

You laugh softly, “What are you doing?” 

“Warming you up,” He murmurs, rubbing up and down your back, “you’re shivering,” 

You reach up, looping your arms around his shoulders and diving into another kiss. His hands on your back slow, fingers gripping down as the kiss heats up again, and you pull yourself closer to touch more of him. 

Your robe parts open naturally as your legs tangle together, and Yunho slips a hand underneath to cup your ass, groaning into your mouth as you buck against him. You lose yourselves in the kiss, more skin starting to press together, and your heart beats hard in your chest, the heat between you building in steady waves. 

“Love kissing you,” He pants before dipping his tongue back into your mouth. 

Something between a sigh and a moan slips from your lips and you nod, “Love you,” 

His hand travels, sliding up to lock down on your hip. 

Your body’s thrumming, the orgasm in the bath only enough to settle your need for him for a few moments. Tucked away with him like this, the warm air of your shared breath, just the sounds of your bodies together, it’s enough to make you wish this were your whole life. Rich, tucked away on the coastline, only the two of you, no amount of days together enough to sate this hunger in your belly.  

His hand slips between your bodies where your stomach presses into his, and he finds the tie of your robe, pulling at just the right angle for the knot to come undone and the fabric to fall slack around your body. 

“Mm,” You slip a hand into his robe, gripping his firm ass, “please,” 

His hot eyes flick over you, settling on your face, “You need it?” 

“Yes,” You breathe. 

“Hold onto me,” He says as he kisses you once more, and then he hikes your leg up by your knee to hook over his hip, opening you up wide. 

You grip down on his shoulders, “Yes, yes,” 

Reaching between your bodies he pushes his robe open and directs his hard length into your slick heat, no amount of hesitation in the way he pushes into you. Once his cock catches, he secures a hand back on your ass and drags you down as he thrusts, sheathing himself deep inside you. 

You moan at the familiar stretch, “Oh, Yunho,” 

“Baby,” He shivers, “god,” 

Without another word, you sink into each other. Your lips connecting in a crash, tongues tangling as you moan into him. Using his shoulders and your leg hitched over his hip to secure yourself to him, you start to roll your body.  Yunho curses, hips snapping into a steady rhythm, his hands anchored on your naked skin and pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke. 

It’s needy, frantic, and you wonder distantly if there will ever be a time that sex with him doesn’t feel like an all consuming wildfire in your veins. This time there’s nothing to say, no teasing, no dirty talk, just both of you moving hungrily together, every kiss bringing you higher and higher as his cock spears you open. 

You fuck like this until Yunho changes the tempo, responding to the sound of your arden whimpers. 

Without breaking the kiss he rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so that you’re perched on his hips, the sudden position change pushing his cock in to the hilt. 

You moan sharply, the kiss disconnecting as you tremble over him, “Oh my f-fuck,” 

His hands grip your hips, “You’re so tight,” 

Heat floods your brain, and you scramble to sit upright, your robe falling off your shoulders. You shove it off, pushing it to the side, and then pull open the tie on Yunho’s robe, getting it open so you can see all of him. 

“C’mere,” Yunho mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together, “god, you’re beautiful,” 

Your cunt clenches around him. 

“Yes,” He nods, pupils blown with desire as he looks up at you, “ride me,” 

Using his hands as your balance, you lean into it, hooking your feet over his muscular thighs. You bounce on him slowly at first, getting used to the feeling of how deep inside you his cock connects every time you drop down, but once you have it, you let yourself get lost in it. 

His eyes flick from your face down to the connection of your bodies, and his plush lips part as he watches his cock disappear all the way into your slick sex again and again. 

“Good girl,” He sighs, squeezing your hands, “that’s it, baby, keep fucking yourself on my cock,” 

You gasp sharply, pleasure blooming inside you, his and yours all at once in a tangled mess of want. 

“Oh god,” Your thighs are aching, but you keep going, up and down with every breath, the sound of your bodies wet and messy. 

“Say my name,” He pants. 

You crumble a little, shoulders caving in but he holds you steady with his hands, “Yunho,” you moan, “Yunho, Yunho,” 

“That’s right,” He says, nodding up at you, “tell me how good it feels, babygirl,” 

“S-so good,” You can feel it building, knotting in your belly, “love your cock,” 

“Yeah?” He groans, his head pressing back into the pillows. 

“Yes, yes,” You grip his hands harder. 

“Don’t stop,” His eyes find yours, “ride me until you’re coming all over this dick, baby,” 

You fall forwards, pressing his hands back into the mattress, and your brain shorts. In a breath you’re dropping down your hips so that he’s fully buried inside you, a cry on your lips as you start to grind against him. 

Yunho disconnects your hands and you collapse on his chest, your head over his shoulder, lips against his throat, your body just jerking and grinding against him as you chase your pleasure. 

He hisses, his arms banding around you, “Fuck, pretty girl,” 

You whimper into him, “Need it,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, turning his head to yours, “I got you,” 

“Close,” 

He holds you to his chest, his lips at your forehead, “Come for me, sweetheart,” 

“Oh, god,” You grind down on him harder, endlessly rolling your hips, faster and faster as your body tightens. 

“You’re all mine,” He soothes, “aren’t you, gorgeous girl?” 

“All yours,” You babble into his skin. 

He groans, his hips jerking under you just once, but he holds himself still so you can take what you need. 

It comes over you fast, and you fall apart into needy shakes above him, biting down on his shoulder as your body breaks open. Sucking in a sharp breath, he adjusts his legs under you, and with a few hurried thrusts into your spasming cunt, he spills himself hot and deep inside you. 

“Perfect girl,” He presses kisses over your face, holding you to his chest, “love you so much,” 

You’re still panting, out of breath, but you nod, “L-love you,” 

You fall asleep in a tangle of sheets, his cock still deep in you, his hands stroking a tender line down your back. 

The world outside, completely forgotten. 

Nothing but you and Yunho and your makeshift honeymoon suite. 

**remember to continue on to section 2!

[monstersflashlight]

( Hi, I'm @mama-magpies-fantasies :3 )

Sharing because I'm too tired to write more about it, but incase you or any other followers get inspired.

Thinking about two dragons fighting for the same princess/human. They've established themselves in the same region but have always been at a stalemate when it comes to their strength and territory; never agreeing on a proper border.

I could see Y/N having caught the eyes of both independently, that is until one of them becomes bold enough to abduct them. By then starts the competition between both wyverns; getting abducted every other day to go from one nest to the other. They both try to woo you everyday, bringing in gifts, showing off their strength and skills, and doing little dances to show their body to their potential mate.

Honestly, it can be funny sometimes, their little fight can be endearing, maybe before you never thought you would have two people fighting over you of all people. And sometimes it can be annoying... You've come to appreciate the both of them and their differences, and the pressure to only choose one is getting on your nerves.

So why not play a little game into it? Get them to see each other more as equals than rivals. To compare them both, you have them share you equally in the same space; letting you have your own nest which can fit the both of them. Ground rules will make sure that they do not start any fights unless they want to be punished and shown as immature compared to their competitor. :3

In the end, I'm sure even in bed both would be quite competitive; after all they want to be the first and only to have you bare their eggs. You can't pass a day without being filled to the brim by either of them as most of the time, one filling you with their seed will cause the other to want a turn as well; creating a feedback loop of breeding until you pass out for the day.

A/N: That was very fun to read, I took it to my field with this one and wrote a lil something. Hope you like it! <3

Both? Both.

Dragon x dragon x fem!reader || sharing is caring, size kink, (light) breeding, eggpreg, (light) dom/sub dynamics (femdom)

You watched them fight and struggle with the realization that they were both important to you. They wanted to fight each other constantly, but you weren’t having any of that. You liked them both too much to let them destroy each other for a chance with you, when they both could get what they wanted. And if that meant you got two amazing dragons with incredible dicks… Well, that was a plus.

So, when you decided you were tired of watching them fight the other to gain your hand, you made them kneel in front of you, looking down to the floor until you had enough of it. Did it last three days? Possibly. Did you spend those three days sitting in front of them as they struggled not to look up at you? Definitely. Did you enjoy it? Greatly.

But after that everything turned out for the better. They stopped fighting, or at least they stopped in front of you. You still knew about their “secret” fights, but those were just stupid banter and a few scratches, you knew deep down that they really wanted to take it out on each other, but you said nothing. You just needed to wait enough to see how much it took for them to figure out they wanted to fuck each other senseless.

And even if you hated when they fought… You loved when it was to choose who got to fuck you first, who got to put their eggs in you… Poor dragons didn’t know nobody did anything if you didn’t order it first. But they looked so pretty fighting and growling at each other, pushing each other down until one of them overpowered the other and they were both panting and hard… It was totally worth it to let them fight it out. Especially when you got their dicks as a reward.

You got them on their backs, wings pinned down as you bounced on one dick and then the other, both of them staring adoringly at you as you took your pleasure on them. They were your pretty dragons, your protectors… and your toys. You loved to play with them like this, you loved when one of them lost control and filled you with his eggs, just for the other to growl and push him away just to fill you with another one. By the end of it you were a mess of come and your stomach was distended with their eggs… But you wouldn’t do anything differently. Especially when you told them you had enough and they took it on each other as you watched. Two powerful dragons fighting to see who was on top, just to end up rutting their cocks together until their bellies were a mess and you could lick it off them.

They thought they were two strong dragons protecting you, but when the time came, you were the one bringing them to their knees. Either to eat you out or just because you enjoyed having such big beast completely submissive to you. It was a good power trip, and made you wetter than anything. Outside the bedroom they could be the protectors, but inside… Inside, they had nothing to argue, nothing to fight for… Because you ordered them.

[bwobgames]

She decides to hang out with a friend!

Which is. A bit of a shame since everyone seems to be somewhere else.

Which is why, the wonders of technology!

She looks at her phone and sees a clear lack of signal. So that’s how it is huh.

But, she also sees some unread notifications from a dear friend.

She puts the phone close to her ear and hears the first of multiple voice messages.

“Hey girl! How are things going? Please tell me if the train is any good I’m dying for a quick escapade. If I hear anyone else try to explain to me how the stock market works, I’m going to be on the news.”

“Is my baby okay? Did he shave that awful moustache? Please say yes.”

It’s Eva! Her friend from work!

A fellow young mind wanting to live it up in the world of business, although unlike Mari, she had some family capital with her already.

Probably why she always managed to stay cheery even while taking difficult business decisions.

Before Nina stepped in, Eva was her one ally in the rough path of maternity, picked up the slack when Eugene got bored of taking care of his pregnant wife, as he does. Although due to her international responsibilities, she wasn’t available as much as she wanted.

Until Eva suddenly showed up with a baby of her own.

They made a glorious system. When Eva had to travel, Mari and Nina would take care of Owen. And when Mari and Nina were too overwhelmed by work, Eva would look after them.

And of course, they all got to have play dates together!

She’s a bit envious on how easy Eva could take care of 3 children. The second Nina was out of the picture Marigold started to struggle.

It seems that pure unfiltered love is not enough to stop children from chewing cables.

It takes a village, truly.

Of course, someone of Eva’s calibre could’ve just paid a nanny, but she wanted Owen to grow in an environment full of friends.

And when he already got those friends, boarding school it is. A boarding school the three of them got exact knowledge on who the teachers, the directors and even the janitors are.

At this point, those kids have 3 moms now.

“By the way, tell Nina her cake recipe is a godsend. I fought myself not to eat more than one piece of it and I lost. That wife of yours is gonna give me diabetes!”

For a long time, Eva thought Mari and Nina were already married. Which made for a very interesting situation when she finally saw Eugene at the house.

She called the cops.

Eva doesn’t know what happened at the mansion.

And if it were for Mari, it would stay that way.

Owen himself might tell her someday, but secretly, she hopes he doesn’t.

Eva already lost her husband; she doesn’t need to know her son died too.

Died under Marigold’s supposed watch…

She lied to her. She said she doesn’t know where Owen’s sudden aggravation of his storm fear came from. She said she can trust her with her son.

She refuses to break that promise again.

“Also, also, did Vivi go or not? If she did tell her I said hiiiii! If she didn’t tell her I said byeee! Oh, the two lovely boys as well!”

Ángel got along with her, he even played matchmaker with a friend of his! That cheeky little man.

“Bring me something yummy! Bring cheese! And meat! And many many drinks because I have gathered so much gossip you wouldn’t believe!”

She needs that information now.

“Alright I’ll leave you be, I’ll be watching your stocks from the sidelines, don’t worry. And! I booked a trip for the telescopes I was telling you about! This time I will not be stopped by sudden emergencies I swear! We will have a fun star gazing bonanza I swear!!”

“Okay byeeeee! buy me something nice, eat well, don’t let Owen convince you I allowed him to drink, don’t attack people and relax for once!!”

She’ll try.

But first, time to respond

“I need that information. I’ll get any and all drinks necessary, I need it. And I’ll be holding onto that promise, I want some stars!”

“Also, the TV show you recommended? I watched it all in 3 days. Amazing. The second I get signal and a private room I need to discuss it with you, or I’ll explode”

“Currently Owen still has that moustache and I’m afraid his mind is not going to change anytime soon. My condolences.”

“Everyone says hi and they miss you! If they don’t say it, I’ll make them.”

And for a final message, something important.

“That is all, I’ll call you later!”

It’s always nice to catch up with friends, even with both of them being busy working women, they always find time for a tea break.

Which sounds like a great idea right now! Relaxing tea adventure!

Until a pink haired creature finds her.

<PREV START NEXT>

[writingpandagoth]

Good Evening,

I absolutely love your work and wanted to ask if you have heard of the fan fiction writing topic called Hanahaki Disease? I’ve never seen a take with Severus Snape x reader. I’m wondering if you’d be interested writing this scenario. The reader has hanahaki because she is falling in love with Severus Snape. Something emotionally intense but with a happy ending. Let me know what you think?

Have a blessed day!

The way I SCREAMED when I read your request!!

I absolutely love the Hanahaki Disease storylines!

This was soo much fun to write I hope it makes somehow sense and you enjoy!❤️

Breath Between Blossoms

The war had left behind a quiet sort of devastation. Not the explosive kind, but something heavier—like dust on furniture long untouched. And in the wake of that silence, Hogwarts reopened, a little more fractured, a little more solemn, but still standing.

So were you.

You arrived in September with a battered suitcase and a new title: Professor. Defense Against the Dark Arts, to be specific—though you weren’t sure the title fit. You’d fought, yes. You’d survived. But teaching? That felt more dangerous than battle some days.

You weren’t expecting friendship, least of all from him.

Severus Snape was already a legend of sorts—half myth, half ghost. He had died, they said. Or nearly. Then come back. A hero, in quiet terms. The sort of man whose bravery was discussed in low voices, always followed by “but he’s still a bastard.”

And he was. But not to you.

Not at first, anyway.

It started with shared silence. Faculty meetings where you’d both sit at the far end of the table, offering no more than a nod. You didn’t try to make conversation. He didn’t try to avoid you. That was the extent of it—until the staff lounge incident.

You were grading essays late—curse theory, dry and full of teenage arrogance—when Snape walked in, a book in one hand and a tea mug in the other. He stopped mid-step, clearly not expecting company.

You offered a stiff smile. “I’ll leave.”

He raised a brow. “It’s a communal space, not my personal sanctuary.”

You blinked at him. He crossed the room and sat.

The silence that followed was… companionable, in an odd way. Two people existing in the same space without demand. A rare thing.

That became routine. You didn’t plan it. But somehow, every Wednesday evening, you both ended up there. Him with his tea and endless volumes on obscure magical theory. You with your essays and a tendency to mutter insults at poorly-written arguments.

The first time you made him laugh, you thought you'd imagined it.

One of your students had written that “the best way to deal with a Boggart was to hit it with a chair.” You said it aloud without thinking.

From the other side of the room: a short, startled huff. Almost a laugh.

You looked up. Snape’s lips twitched as he turned a page.

“Creative,” he murmured. “If deeply stupid.”

Your smile lingered longer than it should have.

It took weeks before the rhythm turned into real conversation. He was guarded, yes, but not unkind. He asked questions. Sharp ones. Listened closely to your answers. He never offered compliments, but sometimes he would pause after something you said, eyes narrowing slightly—like he was impressed but too stubborn to say so.

And you found yourself seeking those pauses.

You started noticing things. The way he drank his tea—too strong, no sugar. The faint streaks of silver in his hair. The way his voice softened slightly when discussing certain students, though he’d deny it if asked.

You caught yourself lingering outside the dungeons after staff meetings, hoping he might walk with you. Sometimes he did. Most times he didn’t. But the few times he did, you felt it.

The shift.

And it scared you.

Because somewhere between sarcastic commentary and side-eyed glances, between library arguments and quiet tea, your admiration grew roots. And roots, you knew, were dangerous things.

The night it truly hit you was unremarkable, at least on the surface. You had been complaining about a seventh-year who tried to use a Stunning Spell during a practical on disarming charms. Snape had rolled his eyes and said,

“At least he didn’t hit you with a chair.”

You laughed, loud, real. And he smiled—barely, but it was there.

It was small. It was everything.

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep. Your chest ached in a way that wasn’t quite physical. It wasn’t anxiety. It wasn’t fear. It was…

Love. Quiet. Blooming.

You sat up in bed, hand pressed to your heart—and coughed.

It was soft at first, but relentless. You staggered to your bathroom, thinking maybe you’d caught a cold, maybe the castle’s chill had finally sunk in.

You barely registered the wetness on your lip before you looked down.

A single white petal sat in your palm. Frilled edges, delicate veins. It glistened faintly in the candlelight.

No.

Your blood ran cold. You coughed again. A second petal joined the first.

No, no, no.

Hanahaki.

You’d heard of it. Everyone had. A tragic curse, a romantic horror story. Flowers blooming in lungs, fed by one-sided love. Slow and painful. Sometimes curable. Often fatal.

You told yourself it was a fluke. Maybe a transfigured ingredient from your classroom. Maybe a prank from a student. Maybe—

But you knew.

In the silence of your quarters, with flower petals in your hand and Severus Snape’s face in your mind, you knew.

You were in love.

And it was going to kill you.

—

Severus didn’t change much after the war. His sharp tongue remained, his silences just as heavy but around you, something had begun to shift. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sudden. It was in the small things—his dry quips softened at the edges, his voice lowering when he asked after your day, his willingness to listen without biting back.

He brought you tea once after a staff meeting left you with a migraine. He didn’t comment when you looked at him longer than you meant to, only tilted his head slightly, like he was used to being observed but not minding this time. He began co-teaching a few sixth-year lessons, and even when you were certain he could’ve done other things, he didn’t seem to mind helping you. If anything, he waited for you to ask him again.

It was the kind of friendship that crept up without permission. Gentle, unspoken, steady. And every quiet laugh, every shared glance across the staff table, made it worse.

The petals began to come faster.

At first, you’d only cough at night, smothering the sound into a pillow, hand shaking as you wiped away pale, delicate petals. But it didn’t take long before the disease became bolder, less willing to wait. Soon you were stifling coughs during your lectures, casting quick cleaning spells beneath your desk. You carried handkerchiefs charmed to dissolve evidence. You stopped wearing light-colored clothing.

The flowers were no longer soft things. They tore their way out now—thicker, bruised at the edges, stained with blood. Each time you saw Severus, they grew more twisted. Each small kindness from him was another root tightening inside you.

But you didn’t want to stop seeing him.

You still passed him in the halls, nodded in your usual way. You still sat beside him at staff meetings when you could manage it, tried to hold steady when his knee brushed against yours beneath the table. You joined him once more in the staff lounge, though you avoided his eyes most of the time, afraid he might see too much.

You told yourself you could manage it. That it wasn’t as bad as it felt.

One evening, alone in your quarters, you staggered to the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror. Your skin was too pale. Your lips had lost their color. You pressed your palms to the sink just as the fit began—your body wrenching forward, mouth spilling petals into porcelain.

Blood followed.

You dropped to your knees and gasped for breath, feeling the burn along your ribs as if the flowers were curling into bone. When it passed, you stayed there a long time, cheek pressed to the cold tile, too exhausted to cry.

You hadn’t told a soul.

The next day, Severus handed you a worn copy of Advanced Hex Theory and said, in that low voice of his, that a recent lecture of yours reminded him of a passage. You took the book with trembling hands and smiled too brightly. He blinked at you, as if trying to place the shift in your expression, the tightness in your shoulders.

You turned quickly, walking away, but a cough burst free before you could make it to the stairs. You covered it with a fake laugh.

“Wrong tea leaf this morning,” you offered. “Choked on it.”

“You’re ill,” he said, not unkindly, but flatly. Observing. As if the fact had just landed for him.

“No. Just tired.” You forced another smile. “Hogwarts air is practically toxic. I’m adjusting.”

He watched you for a second too long, something unreadable in his eyes.

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You lasted another week before you went to Madam Pomfrey.

She took one look at you and her face fell. She didn’t need to ask. The petals in your hand said enough.

“Oh, my dear…”

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t tell anyone.”

She was summoning diagnostic spells with barely controlled urgency. When the spell's green glow passed over your chest, she sucked in a breath.

“I need you to promise me.”

A long silence.

“It’s spread quite a lot,” she said quietly, almost afraid to confirm it aloud. She sighed. “I’ll do what I can to slow it. But you must understand—if this continues, and he does not return your feelings…”

“I know,” you said. You didn’t cry. You were too tired to cry.

“You need help. Rest won't help. You need to tell—”

“I’m not telling Severus.” Your voice cracked like dry glass.

Her gaze sharpened. “So it is him.”

You didn’t answer but you didn't have to.

She gave you a strong suppressants. Spoke in a gentler tone than usual.

“You’re running out of time. If you won’t confess, you must consider surgical extraction.”

You whispered, “I can’t lose the feeling.”

Even if it was killing you, it was still yours. Still real.

Pomfrey didn’t argue. She only touched your shoulder and said, “Then you need to be prepared to say goodbye.”

--

You stopped going to the staff lounge.

It wasn’t intentional—not at first. One week, you told yourself you were too tired. The next, you claimed you had too much grading. By the third, your absence became habit. Avoidance masquerading as self-preservation.

Because every time you looked at him, the pain in your chest surged.

The petals had come again. Not many—just one or two at a time—but enough to remind you. Each time you saw his name on the staff schedule, each conversation in the corridor, each dry remark from across the Great Hall… the ache deepened.

The flowers were feeding off you now.

Your body had become a garden of secrets.

The suppressant Pomfrey gave you helped, for a while. Made the coughing less frequent. Let you walk the halls without feeling like your chest was collapsing. But the petals still came. Smaller now, delicate. You almost convinced yourself that meant you were getting better.

You weren’t.

You started avoiding meals in the Great Hall. You kept your office door locked. You began arriving late to meetings, leaving early. Still, you couldn’t avoid him entirely.

“Professor,” he said one morning, stepping into your classroom just as you were wiping blood from the inside of your sleeve.

You startled, heart slamming.

He frowned. “You look pale.”

You laughed—dry, forced. “Occupational hazard.”

He didn’t smile. “You’ve been absent.”

“I’ve been busy.”

His eyes searched your face, unreadable. “You shouldn’t isolate yourself. It’s not healthy.”

You almost choked on the irony.

“Thank you for the medical advice,” you said, voice tight.

He left without another word.

You collapsed into your chair once the door closed, biting your sleeve to muffle the cough that came after. Three petals. One stained with red.

The turning point came in the library.

You were searching for a book on magical illness triggers, your mind foggy with exhaustion. You didn’t hear him until he was beside you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Severus said, voice quiet.

You froze.

He looked tired too—dark circles beneath his eyes, jaw tense. “If I’ve done something to offend—”

“You haven’t,” you cut in. Too fast. Too sharp.

He paused. “Then why—”

“I just need space, Severus. Please.”

It was the first time you’d ever called him that aloud. His name. No title. Just him.

It stunned him into silence.

You left before he could respond.

That night, you coughed until your vision blurred. A handful of petals. Blood pooling in your throat. You collapsed beside your bed, trembling.

You didn’t sleep.

--

In the days that followed, you slipped even further into the routine of pretending.

You stopped eating regularly. Your clothes hung looser. You developed a quiet tremor in your hands and passed it off as stress. You spent more time at your desk than in your bed, coughing into scarves and praying no one knocked on the door at the wrong time.

The suppressants didn't work anymore but you didn't expected them to.

One afternoon, you were already in the staff lounge when Severus arrived. You hadn’t expected anyone else to come in. You were curled in the chair closest to the fireplace, head aching from the morning’s lecture, your throat raw.

He sat across from you and studied you in silence.

“You’ve been distant even more so” he said after a long pause.

“I just been tired.”

“Liar,” he replied, not with venom, but quiet certainty.

You shrugged, barely looking up.

“You’re pale. You’re thinner. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t look like yourself.”

You stared into your tea. “You wouldn’t know.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, in a tone softer than you’d ever heard from him: “I notice more than you think.”

You couldn’t speak. Your hands tightened in your lap, willing your body to stay calm, to not betray you in that moment.

He stood slowly. “If you need something just—say it.”

And then he left, the weight of his words settling heavy in your chest.

You pulled out a handkerchief the moment the door shut and coughed until your ribs screamed.

The petals were crimson now.

You didn’t know how close the edge was, but you could feel something in your body giving way. Your magic was duller. Your steps heavier. You hadn’t dreamed in days—just flashes of heat, darkness, and the sound of your own lungs drowning in silence.

That's why you showed up again.

You sat beside him at meetings. You walked the same halls. You listened when he spoke and smiled when he looked at you like he didn’t want to look away.

Because you loved him. And that was the truth that bloomed brightest beneath your skin. Whether he ever knew or not.

You would stay near him until the very end.

Even if it shattered you completely.

—

You’d felt the shift the day before it happened. The coughing no longer brought fragments, but full, choking blooms—petals fused together, heavy and wet. It was like drowning from the inside out. Your chest ached constantly now, a dull pressure behind your sternum that no potion could ease.

You stood in front of your classroom, words coming slower than usual, wand heavier in your hand. The blackboard was half-full with chalk notes you could barely read. Your students were watching—most of them too tired to care, a few whispering behind their textbooks.

You tried to ignore the way your hands shook.

You told yourself: Just a few more minutes. Just get through the lecture. Then rest.

But your body was done pretending.

Your lungs spasmed mid-sentence. You gasped—one, short breath—and then dropped your wand.

The first flower came up whole.

It hit your desk with a soft, wet thud. White. A full lily, bent under its own weight.

Someone laughed—thinking it was a trick.

Then you coughed again, harder, doubled over as more flowers spilled from your mouth.

Lilies, Forget-me-nots and Chrysanthemum.

Your knees buckled. The room erupted in noise.

“Professor—?!” “Are you—?” “Someone get help!”

You tried to stand, tried to speak—but your body crumpled sideways, hitting the floor with a hollow crack. flowers scattered across the stone. One student screamed. Another froze in place, eyes wide with terror.

You heard nothing after that.

Only your own heartbeat. Faint. Slowing.

Then—nothing at all.

—

The sound of your body hitting the floor had students go wild. Some of them yelled out terrified alerting everyone.

By the time Professors arrived—wand half-raised, voice cracking with concern—your classroom was in complete chaos. A dozen wide-eyed students pressed against the walls. Others stared at the mess near the front: Flowers scattered all over the floor. Blood. Too much blood.

You lay motionless. One hand curled inward like a fallen petal.

Minerva who had arrived first tried to calm the students down. Flitwick was trying to keep students back while Sprout stared at the flowers in horror.

Severus pushed through the door and past students last trying to make sense of the chaos.

“What is going on?” he demanded, his voice too calm, steady.

Before anyone could say something, he saw it.

The flowers. The blood.

You.

For one awful, suspended moment, he didn’t move. His breath caught in his chest at the sight.

Then after what felt like years:

“Out of the way,” Pomfrey barked. “I need space.”

The second she was at your side, she cast a stabilizing charm, eyes narrowed in silent panic. Her hands moved quickly, checking for breath, for pulse, for any sign of what magic still lived in you.

“Severus,” she said without looking up, “I need you to carry her for me.”

He still stood frozen staring down at you.

"Severus! Now!" Pomfrey turned back to look at him.

He didn’t speak but he stepped forward, knees bending as he reached down and gathered you into his arms.

His jaw was tight as he turned, robes sweeping behind him as he followed Pomfrey out of your classroom.

The hallways were still as he carried you through them—every footstep a strike against the stone, your limp head resting just below his collarbone. A few professors emerged from their classrooms, stunned by the sight: Severus Snape, pale and expressionless, walking fast and silent with your unconscious body in his arms, blood on his sleeve and petals tangled in your hair.

He didn’t meet their eyes.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop.

When Pomfrey shut the Hospital Wing doors behind them, she cast the strongest privacy ward she knew.

Severus placed you on the bed without a word. He stood there longer than necessary, staring down at you like he couldn’t make the shape of your face mean anything logical.

Pomfrey moved around him briskly, casting diagnostic spells and muttering under her breath.

“She’s been coughing for months,” she finally said, her voice lower now. “Stubborn girl didn’t come until it was already advanced.”

Severus turned sharply. “Months?”

Pomfrey nodded once, tight-lipped.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” His tone sharpened.

“She didn't want me to and I honored that. As you would have.”

He went quiet. Not because he agreed. Because she was right.

His eyes dropped back to you. Your chest barely moved.

He swallowed. “Who?”

Pomfrey hesitated.

“Poppy,” he said, low and dangerous.

She looked up. “I don’t know.”

“You just said—”

“I said she’s been sick for months. Not who caused it.”

He stepped closer to her, his voice rough. “You know.”

“She asked me not to tell. I gave her my word.”

He turned away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of you so still and braced a hand on the wall. His knuckles were white.

“How long did she feel like this?” he asked, quieter now.

“A long time,” she said softly. “Long enough that she didn’t think she’d survive it.”

When she left the room, he stayed behind. Staring at the basin of withered flowers. The deep creases in the bedsheets. The shape of your mouth slack with sleep, but wrong—like life had forgotten where to rest.

He sat.

Then stood.

Then sat again.

And he began to think.

Who was it?

Who had let you get this far gone?

Flashes of memory returned in cruel detail—your smiles, your silences. The times you brushed off questions. The way you stopped looking him in the eye.

He hadn’t thought to ask, not really. You’d been pulling away, yes—but not enough to worry him. Not enough to make him believe this.

Now he traced back every step of your unraveling and wondered how much of it he’d seen—and chosen to ignore.

He imagined you in love with someone else.

A faceless man. Another professor. A ghost from the war. A letter tucked into your drawer that wasn’t his.

The thought of it—of you wasting away for someone who didn’t see you—turned his stomach.

And yet, he never once allowed the idea that it could be him.

Because if it was

He had failed you worse than anyone ever had.

--

Severus didn’t sleep.

He sat beside your bed through the night, then through the morning, then into the gray stretch of day that followed. Hours bled into each other, marked only by the soft ticking of the clock above the infirmary door and the slower, shallower rise and fall of your chest.

Each time he looked at you, he catalogued something new—how your hands lay unmoving atop the sheets, how your cheeks had hollowed. How even now, flowers still bloomed from your mouth in your sleep. Fewer, but full. Fragrant. Silent.

Pomfrey came and went. She said very little. Sometimes she would pull petals and flowers carefully out of your throat that didn't come out themselves. Each one bloody.

He crushed one between trembling fingers. The stem was still warm.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to go back. To the first moment he noticed your laugh. To the first cup of tea. To the goddamn hex theory book he’d left on your desk. He wanted to undo every polite exchange, every flicker of softness he let slip through. He wanted to unmake himself entirely if it meant sparing you this.

But the truth was he didn’t know how to save you.

He didn’t know how to save anything.

He tried to reason through it. To calculate, to deduce, like any other problem he’d ever solved.

Who had your eyes lingered on in the staffroom?

Who did you sit next to, besides him?

Had there been letters? A Visitor? A ghost from the war?

He would have handed you over without protest. He would have let you go.

He hated every scenario. And in each one, he imagined what it would take to pull that love from you, to make it his—if only long enough to save your life.

But the fear—the unbearable, brutal fear—was that there was no one who could save you.

That's when realization hit him. That you had chosen solitude. Silence.

That you’d rather die than burden someone with your feelings.

That was what finally shattered him.

Pomfrey tried to argue that he needed rest but he didn’t leave. He folded himself into the chair beside the bed like a man bracing for war and stayed there, unmoving, staring at you like if he just concentrated hard enough, he could will you back.

Pomfrey gave up after the third attempt to make him leave and walked out the infirmary with quiet grief and closed the door behind her.

You looked almost peaceful. Pale. Cold. A silver basin beside the bed held half a dozen wilted lilies.

“Fool,” he whispered, voice raw. “You foolish woman.”

His hand hovered near yours but didn’t touch it.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve told me.”

His voice cracked.

“You don’t even know. Do you?” His gaze flicked to your face. “You don’t know how I looked for you in every damned corridor this week. How I kept trying to convince myself you were fine—when I could see you falling apart.”

He stopped. Shook his head.

“Who is it?” he asked you, even though you couldn’t answer. “Who did you fall for that was worth this? Worth dying for?”

Silence.

“I—I wish it were me,” he said, quieter now. “But I told myself that was arrogance. That it was better if it isn't. That if it was someone else, I could live with that.”

He looked at you again, all that control unraveling.

“You should’ve told him,” he said. “Whoever it is. You should’ve said something. Let him choose. Let him try.”

He looked at you like you might wake. Like you might argue. But you stayed still. He finally reached for your hand letting the silence hold for a long time.

He bowed his head and gripped your hand tighter.

“If it were me…” he said, eyes shining with something he hadn’t let out in years, “If it were me… I wouldn’t have turned away.” 

His voice cracked.

“I would’ve kissed you in the staff lounge. I would’ve told you how impossible you make it to concentrate in meetings. I would’ve stopped pretending I didn’t feel everything you made me feel.”

He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper now, breaking under the weight of it.

“I love you. I love you and I should have said it weeks ago. Months. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t see it. I’m sorry I let you carry this alone.“

He exhaled, trembling. Pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes.

“I’m not a good man,” he said quietly. “But I would’ve loved you well.”

No answer.

He looked up again—and something inside him snapped.

“Merlin, please,” he whispered, leaning forward. “Don’t leave me, just give me something. Anything.”

Your chest stilled.

He leaned closer. Panic setting deep into his bones.

“You can’t do this!” he said. “You don’t get to carry all of this and die with it. You don’t get to choose silence over life.”

No breath. No movement.

“Come back,” he begged. “Even if it’s not me. Even if you wake up and say someone else’s name.”

He touched your cheek, gently. Cold.

“I’ll find them for you. I’ll give you the chance to tell them. I’ll—”

His voice broke and a sob forced its way out of his chest. 

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, fingers gripping the blanket as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. His forehead pressed to the back of your cold hand.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

The words slipped out like a prayer, like a curse. His grip tightened. holding on with everything he had left.

“You can’t—” His voice cracked. “Don’t go without ever knowing how much you mean to me. Without letting me say it sooner. I was too slow. I always am.”

He bent lower, shoulders trembling now, as if years of restraint had collapsed under the weight of one final loss.

His hands slid from the blanket to your arm, wrapping gently, pulling you closer like he could will warmth back into you.

“Don’t do this,” he begged, voice splintering. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me with this. Wondering what it could’ve been.”

His head bowed low beside yours.

“I would’ve loved you,” he whispered. “I do. I love you. Please wake up so I can tell you. You still deserve to hear it. You deserve to know.”

His body shook with the effort of holding everything in — the grief, the guilt, the sheer terror of knowing what it meant if you didn’t come back.

“I can’t lose you,” he said again, broken. “Please, just stay. Just—stay.”

Silence.

And then—

A sound. Soft. Barely audible.

A breath.

At first, he didn’t realize what it was. He was too deep in the ache of it, too lost in the grief pressing hard into his ribs. But then you inhaled again—sharper, steadier—and his head snapped up.

Your chest moved. Your lips parted in a weak gasp.

Severus froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched, terrified that if he blinked, it would stop again.

Then your head turned ever so slightly, your brow furrowing like you were trying to pull yourself out of something deep, something dark.

And then—

“…Severus?”

Barely audible. More breath than voice. Fragile.

He flinched like he’d been struck.

His eyes met yours—just barely open, hazy, searching—and all the breath he’d held for what felt like a lifetime left him in one broken exhale.

“Don’t ever…” he whispered. His voice cracked. “Don’t ever do that again.”

You blinked slowly, confused. “What… happened?”

He choked on a sound that was almost a laugh, almost a sob. One hand rose to your cheek, thumb trembling against your skin like he didn’t quite trust you were real.

“You nearly died,” he said. “You—Merlin, I thought it’s too late.”

You tried to breathe again — slower this time, steadier. Your lungs ached, but the pain was different now. Less sharp. Like the roots had loosened.

Your voice came soft, fractured. “You were here?”

“I didn’t leave,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t.”

You looked at him, at the way his hand shook in yours, at the tears he didn’t bother to hide. And then—something clicked.

“I’m awake,” you murmured, the words more breath than voice, “and I’m breathing… and you’re here…”

You stared at him, the weight of it landing all at once.

“You love me,” you whispered, like the words didn’t feel real until they left your mouth. „You love me back…“

He just looked at you stunned. Wide-eyed and then he realized.

His breath caught. His eyes flicked down to your lips, to the edge of the basin beside the bed still holding the last of the flowers.

“It was me…” he echoed, barely able to get the words out. “You were dying… for me?”

You didn’t answer.

More tears fell from his eyes and his voice cracked open completely.

“All this time,” he whispered. “You were in love with...me?”

You gave a small nod, and the movement alone nearly broke him.

He looked away, ashamed. “I told myself it would never be me wondering who...”

He turned back to you, devastation softening into wonder.

“And all I kept wishing was that it was me… so that when I said ‘I love you,’ it might save you.”

“you did” you said.

Those two words undid him.

He leaned in and kissed you.

No hesitation. No regret.

It was shaky. Gentle. Real.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead to yours. His voice trembled.

“I love you,” he said again, like a promise. “I’m here. My love. All of it. It’s always been yours. I promise I will never stop saying it.”

You exhaled against him. Eyes closing. Chest steady.

And this time, when you breathed there were no petals. No flowers.

Only air.

And him.

And love, finally spoken.

—

You didn’t remember falling asleep again, only waking to the soft sound of a chair creaking and the unmistakable scent of something herbal — not medicinal, but familiar.

The sun had sunk low, painting golden lines across the stone floor, and the castle had grown quiet in the way it only did after something awful had passed — like the whole place was exhaling.

You lay curled under the blanket that smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment, every part of your body still sore. But not in pain. Not dying.

Just recovering.

And Severus was beside you.

He hadn’t left. Especially since you’d woken.

He sat sideways in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him, one hand still holding yours like he hadn’t decided yet whether or not to let go. Like he might wake up and find you gone again.

You turned your head slowly toward him. “You’re still here.”

He looked down at you. “Obviously.”

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Eaten?”

“Not hungry.”

You gave him a look. He gave you one right back.

“I nearly lost you,” he said simply, like that explained everything. And it did.

You stared at him for a long moment, thumb brushing against his fingers.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear you say it,” you whispered. “That you love me.”

He swallowed. His voice dropped low.

“I said it to you after...I regretted not telling you sooner”

“I know.” Your smile was small. Real. “I think… part of me heard you.”

He didn’t say anything — just watched you for a moment like you were something fragile and sacred all at once. Then, cautiously, he stood and leaned forward to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

Your hand didn’t leave his.

“I would’ve said it sooner,” he murmured, “but I was too bloody terrified.”

You turned your face slightly into his palm. “Of what?”

“Of believing you could never love me back,” he said. “And of what it would do to me if you didn't”

You were quiet, and then: “I know that fear.”

His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “You nearly died with it in your chest.”

“And you brought me back.”

“That was your doing,” he said. “I only… answered.”

You shifted slightly, enough to lean into him. He let you, slowly lowering himself beside you until you were tucked against his chest. His arms moved around you with careful precision — like he wasn’t sure where you were still breakable.

“You’re allowed to hold me like I’m real,” you said.

He exhaled a breath against your hair. “You are.”

That night, you fell asleep in his arms.

No more silence kept between you.

No more secrets blooming beneath your ribs.

And in the hush between heartbeats, where breath once failed—

Love lived instead.

[inthekitschen]

Jabberwock and Sinostra Ghouls when you tell them you're pregnant

How I think the ghouls would react to having a baby with you, part 2.

Note: Somehow, Taiga's was my favorite to write so far. He's just so fun to put under a microscope.

*reader can get pregnant but is not given gendered pronouns.

The Ranger cries when you tell him. He lifts you and spins you around in excitement, promising to never let you down. And he doesn't. He carries you everywhere. You will never lift a finger, because if you try, he uses bahnti to get to it first.

When the baby arrives, Peekaboo's harness is moved to the back to make room. Haru takes your baby everywhere — the free advertising isn't his main reason for doing it, but it definitely helps.

The Free Spirit knew you were pregnant before you did, somehow. He never leaves your side throughout your pregnancy, and the weather is always sunny and bright.

The Slacker doesn't want kids. They're sticky, loud, and too much work. So when you tell him about the positive test, why does he feel a sudden rush of... joy? It takes him a while to come to terms with his feelings, but once he does, he's excited.

Towa takes the baby everywhere. You have to reign him in and remind him that infants are pretty limited in what they're allowed to do. He's just so happy that he has the both of you!

His favorite thing to do is dress the baby up in merch of his favorite movies. When Halloween comes, he's definitely putting your child in a monster costume. He gags when it comes to cleaning up a blowout, and complains about getting up in the middle of the night, but you catch him watching your sleeping child in awe.

The Gambler knows something is up with you. You're bitchier, but hotter too. He knows he has to keep an eye on you, to make sure no one fucks with you, but doesn't remember why until you start showing. Once he can't forget that you're pregnant, good fucking luck to anyone who so much as looks at you.

Once his little good luck charm is born, he's taking them to the casino. Gotta show them the ropes early, after all. He doesn't let your child out of his sight. Not to sleep, not to eat, nothing. That way, he won't forget.

The Sniper just about has a heart attack. He makes sure you're taking care of yourself throughout the pregnancy, keeping track of what vitamins you need and how much sleep you should be getting.

He's even more particular about the baby. He does his research on what foods to give them and what to avoid. He even eases up on the acronyms around your child so they're more likely to understand him. Just know that child is decked out in full designer the moment you get home from the hospital.

The Paralegal has been trying with you to get pregnant for some time, so when you finally come to him with the news, he's thrilled! He immediately sets up the doctor's appointment to figure out how far along you are so he can give his firm the notice of his upcoming paternity leave. He makes sure you're following the doctor's orders to the letter, and equally makes sure the doctors are giving the best care.

He plays classical music and reads classic literature to the baby to help them sleep, and has full one-sided conversations with them "because it helps with brain development." From the other room, you can hear your baby scream loudly in excitement and then Ritsu replying "Yes, I'm glad you feel the same way" fully serious.

[venuswarmlight]

Goddess! Reader x caitvi

Warnings: smut at the end, really rushed. Not proofread.

It happened like a miracle, a magical dream come true from the old books placed in the Kiramman house. When they found you, they knew they were struck by cupid.

It all started when during a mission, the dynamic duo found an abandoned Museum, a colossal treasure in ruins due to time and weather, something so destroyed but at the same time hiding a delightful secret.

The first one to notice was Vi, when they started stepping into the bricks and collecting the remains of what were beautiful sculptures decades ago, a breeze that placed its hand right beside her, on her shoulder, and a soothing whisper “You should not be here.” A vibrant yet peaceful aura and that ethereal voice made her quickly turn around, her powder blueish-eyes prepared to confront a monster, a witch, everything but the body of a feminine representation, very much taller than her, with the most delicate ornament and jewelry displayed all over your body in the right places, that woman was too stunned to speak, she definitely knew you were not a common creature.

“Who are you?”She said, her husky voice resonated in the landscape, her echoes vibrating on the droplets of water falling down the vines and falling on the moss, she stepped back, completely mesmerized by your presence. Her gauntlets let out vapor that broke the suspension in the room, you didnt flinch, just answered with a mellow tone “Do not be afraid.” You whispered, following by your name, her curiosity grew intense in her heart.

Caitlyn wasn’t the exception, when she found the two of you talking, both sat down on a block of broken concrete, surrounded by vegetation and nature. The blue haired girl had at first very resentful thoughts about you, but when you spoke to her, she instantly understood. How could she not give herself to you?

And with that, they extended the case, just so they could go up that hill and sneak between the ruined structure, just so they could see you. You exchanged likings, stories, and fluttering moments that wrapped both of them in your singular charm. For you, they were nothing but another experience, humans and common species used to come and go whenever they wanted, with the time, you grew more distant and mature about them, but Caitlyn and Vi were different. This time you were starting to feel… Mundane things, unknown feelings that you thought disappeared lots of centuries ago.

Caitlyn fell first, your knowledge and wisdom instantly enveloped her in an obsessive attraction, making her blush and laugh more often when she was around you, finally letting herself have a little fun and rest when you helped her choosing and structuring her strategies and plans in her work, your intellect and ease to solve extremely difficult cases lighted up her heart, slowly falling in love with you, despite the fact that she denied it at first for respect to her girlfriend. But it wasn’t too much time later before Vi also started to feel the same, romantic butterflies flew around her stomach whenever she was with you, her confident personality totally screwed over when you two were talking, basically making her feel like a high school girl. You could be so adaptive to both of their needs and interests that it was almost like you were a third complement, not just another option or some funny thing to spend the time with.

You started getting more comfortable around them, letting them guide you over the town and inviting you to places you didn’t think you would be able to enjoy. For the first time, you felt imperfect and alive, and the security they provided was more than enough to make you fall in love with them. Even if you knew that soon they would probably forget you. At some point, you started neglecting your divine duties just to open a space for them, something that could bring consequences later.

Finally after six months, they realized they could not keep hiding this from themselves anymore, leading into a discussion.

“It just happened, cupcake, I’m sorry.” Vi said, while holding the other’s hand, thumb slightly rubbing against her skin, trying to console her.

They were both laid in bed on their sides, face to face, inches apart. Caitlyn’s eyebrows furrowed, thoughtful, it’s not that she wasn’t okay with it, it was just weird to her. As someone who had only seen traditional relationships in her life, it was hard for her to accept the situation, she loved Violet with all of her heart, and all of what she has done is to love her, but her suggestion was something she was hesitant of. She never shared, and she is quite possessive of what’s hers.. But there could be an exception.

“It’s okay, darling. I think.. I agree with you on that.” Her words made Vi raise her eyebrows, surprised and amused by her reaction. “I have never done anything like this before, are you sure you really want this? Do you think she feels the same about us?”

“You know, I don’t have a problem with having a third, wouldn’t change anything between us. M’ pretty sure she has done this before, or she could know about this stuff, so why not?“ She answered, getting closer to Caitlyn, her eyes connecting deep to hers, she added “Take your time n’ when you’re ready, say the word.” She smiled right next to her lips, before kissing her passionately, her hands hugging her waist and pressing her body close to hers while the giggles filled the bedroom.

Caitlyn didn’t really wait long until their makeout session finished to tell Vi her final decision, the pink haired girl could not be more satisfied.

When the moment came, what they thought would be easier became actually more complicated. You were a goddess, you couldn’t love and commit to them the way they wanted to, just because of the fact that you couldn’t. Gods don’t do that. A wave of sadness rushed across both Caitlyn and Vi’s bodies, a gut wrenching feeling that transformed into a sigh of relief when they heard you negociate with them. “You have become the first thing I think of when I come down from the heavens, and the last thing I remember in my dreams, but if your hearts are truly devoted, I shall not end the bond.”

And it was more than enough. You had no arguments about it. You decided how it would be. And it would remain like that, just so they could keep you a little more. What started simply as dates in the midnight ended as you transformed into a fully human being, living human-like experiences and behaving like a human with them. A world where you could hide from the heavens and the sky, not caring about anything else.

You realised you were more than fucked when you gave in to them, fully.

Caitlyn’s moans where displayed all over the room, her chest raising up and down as she saw literally stars and the heaven itself because of you artwork with your mouth, your tongue flipping and lapping on her folds, lips sucking and biting her clit just to drive her closer to the edge, your hums sendind vibrating waves all over her arousal, making her squeeze your head between her legs and pull your hair close to her sensitive skin. “Right there, god. Now I—fuck, understand why you’re so experienced, mmm.”

An amazing view for Vi, who was praising and worshipping your body from behind, one of her hands roaming all over your body, hugging your breasts and leaving purple prints on your hips that would disappear instantly, her fingers knuckle-deep inside your walls, pumping and curling in your wet softness, memorizing every inch of your skin and every reaction of yours, how you arched your back everytime she spoiled that spot too much, how you muffled her name in Caitlyn’s core, it send shivers down her spine, encouraging her to get you over and over again to your limits, her dirty talk always making you squirm and squirt everytime. “S’good for us, look at that, ffuckk… You’re creaming all over my palm.”

Two bad bitches at the same damn time. 🤞🏽