#as much as I hope they’ll miss this post

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[owlespresso]

dogged pursuit. dr veritas ratio. part 6 of ? / other parts summary: you’ve been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he’s easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags. violence. filth below the tag. not beta'd.

When they assigned you the post of Veritas Ratio’s bodyguard, you expected a light workload. But it’s still been kind of boring. You can’t outright say you want your charge to be attacked by the enemy, but you feel like you’re missing out on chances to impress him. He lets you into his bed but the truth is, you are at your core a slavering beast. There’s no higher privilege than to commit violence in his name. In his honor.

So, when the chance does come, can anyone fault you for being a little too enthusiastic?

It’s a bustling night on Orchestron-IIV. The pleasure district is the last place he wanted to go, but you badgered him into it. The luxury villas and safe streets of the expat district are stagnant. They don’t hold a candle to the chaotic thrumming of the Magnolia–the part of the island where locals and tourists alike come to get in touch with their inner animal. 

It’s also a valuable opening for the opportunistic little weasel that’s been eyeing your villa for the past few weeks. You’re not sure who sent him. You don’t care. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d show himself tonight. 

He does, of course. You’ve got good instincts. The blood in the water can be miles away, but you’ll still hone in on it. 

It happens in a dark, cramped alleyway. You taste the metal of the knife on the air before you see him, hear the slight twitch of his boot against the gravel. The fight lasts for less than thirty seconds. Ratio watches you kick his blade far into the dark with an air of practiced neutrality, languid in the way he inspects the cretin you’ve pinned to the wet pavement. 

You wallop him twice on each side of the head for good measure, watch his eyes roll like water spirals down the train, feel the softness of his temple against your eager fists. Then you get him turned over with a few good kicks to his ribs. He shouts, but it’s cut off as you force his face into the cold concrete. Once you’ve had your fill, you stand with one of your boots on his wrist. You’re kneeled over him, his other arm caged by your knee. The fine silver of your hidden blade kisses the unblemished skin of his throat. Maybe you should have choked him for good measure. Given him a good shake. 

“I assume you’ve learnt your lesson?” Veritas’s voice breaks you from your careful contemplation. “...So, who sent you?”

“Call off your dog,” the man chokes. 

“Mm, no, I don’t think I will,” Veritas answers, the coldest you’ve ever heard him. You grind your heel into the man’s wrist, feel the bone creak in protest under your boot. He hisses out in pain, fingers curling, legs twitching as he debates whether a continued struggle would be worthwhile. “I’ll ask again—who sent you? Think very carefully before you answer.”

“Fuck you,”

“Incorrect. Zero points,” Veritas sighs, “If this is the best they could send, I doubt we have much to worry about,” He looks at you meaningfully. You give him a smile full of teeth, wind your leg back, and sail the metal tip of your boot into the bastard’s skull. Not enough to break his neck. Just enough to render him an unconscious, bloodied heap. You like it when you communicate without words. It makes you feel closer to him.

You absentmindedly kick some pebbles around while Veritas dials a number and has a quick discussion–probably contacting his IPC goonies. They’ll come collect this poor scrap of a man and work the information out of him real quick. Nothing you couldn’t have done, but you like to think he’s sparing you the effort. 

The encounter is over but your blood still rushes in your ears, and your hands twitch. Veritas is wearing a darker number, today. 

As soon as he hangs up, you’re on him. You cage him up against the wall, lips attached to the pale column of his throat and he sighs, like he’s annoyed. His big hands find your hips, but he doesn’t push you away. He only squeezes in warning.

“Control yourself,” he says, and you know he’s grimacing even though you can’t see his face. You lovingly retread old ground with your teeth, gnaw a new bruise into his skin. He makes a shaky sound at that, hands gripping you tighter. “You are not some rutting animal and we are not doing this here!” 

“Doc, c’mon,” you whine, desperate fingers tugging his shirt free from where it’s tucked into his belt. You don’t like him in suits. You like him in the flowy, free things from his homeland. “Didn’t I do good for you?” You shove your hands beneath his shirt and feel the strong wall of his abdomen twitch under your greedy ministrations. He exhales. You nose the spot where his jaw meets his ear, draw the smell of him deep into your lungs. “Tell me I did good, Veritas. I don’t ever ask for anything.”

His cock springs free from his trousers, flushed and pink and perfect. He’s already erect, the slight curve of him standing tall against his clothed tummy. The broad head already weeps with precum and you coo, hopelessly endeared. You cup him in your hand and he hisses, but doesn’t try to stop you. 

“You insatiable beast. If you’ve done any good, you are ruining it with this behavior.” He glares, but it’s a watery kind of look that’s just for show. A token show of resistance because his pride won’t let him admit that this is what he wants. That’s fine, because you know how to read him by now. As close as a bodyguard can be. 

“Wow. Did you get hard watching me beat that guy up?” you ask, and don’t wait for an answer before putting your mouth on him. Maybe, if you were more patient and less single minded, you could have teased him a little. Pressed kitten-soft kisses to his tip. But you aren’t possessed of a delicate touch.

You pull half of his length into your waiting mouth and hollow your cheeks. He gasps, hips making an aborted little thrust. His fingers curl into your hair, desperate for any form of purchase. Your eyes flutter shut as you taste the salt and sweat of his skin, humming low in your throat as you work him deeper. He’s weighty on your tongue–you have to really open up to fit him. 

If you were in a better place, you’d hold him there for a few minutes, maybe. Just to see how whiny and desperate he’d get. But the evening crowds are still milling around only a few yards away. 

“Hurry up!” he hisses, and you reward his brattiness by hollowing your cheeks. He makes a helpless, punched out sort of noise as you work him, wet mouth milking his thick, throbbing cock for all it has. His inner thigh is warm against the flat of your palm. You want to feel his skin. You want to shove his trousers down and feel the soft backs of his thighs over your shoulders. 

He’s getting impatient, though. He’s kind enough to keep a steady, mild pace as he fucks your mouth in earnest. You slick your tongue along the underside of him, coo and hum around his erection like you’re praising him. Like you’re proud of him. His back arches, nice tailored suit grinding into the wall behind him. 

You look up, and admire the forming, shapeless blues and pinks that mottle his skin. You just barely hear his nails scratching at the exposed brick behind him. He starts to lose all that good sense he’s so proud of, hips jerking helplessly into your waiting mouth. The muscles of your forearms flex as you pin his hips in place. You take him in deep, take him in relentlessly and press the flat of your tongue hard against his cock. The friction has him bucking, smothering soft sounds into his sleeve.

You can’t see it, but you imagine his stomach tensing and feel his knees begin to shake. It’s so cute, cute, cute–you can’t stand it. You want him cumming, you want him ruined. White hot adrenaline seizes you as you grab his hips and drag him forward. He nearly toppled, his shout ringing down the length of the alleyway. He catches himself with a hand on your head, gritting his teeth as he starts to fuck your mouth in earnest. 

His pace loses sync as he gets hot on the heels of his orgasm. That scholarly composure shatters. He cums with a pathetic, watery keen. Rivulets of warm release fill your mouth and stream down your throat. You swallow around him, let him fuck your mouth through the thick of his peak despite the way your throat aches and protests. 

You only let him go once he has nothing left to give. You pop off of his flagging cock with a lewd, wet sound and rise to look at him close. There’s a visible sweat along his brow, his pupils blown wide. He’s dazed. It takes him a full second to realize you’re here, and you’re lookin’ real close at him. He presses his back against the wall and schools his face into that irritated glower. The typical dignity associated with that expression is lost, considering the obvious flush painted across his pale cheeks. 

“T-there. Are you satisfied now?” he harrumphs, but his voice shakes. like you didn’t just give him the best blowjob of his life.

You’re not annoyed. You feel feverish, kind of, looking at the handsome planes of his face with a newfound, and perhaps manic kind of concentration. And oh– “Are you cryin’?” you ask, incredulous. ‘Cause there are tears on those pretty lashes of his. Pretty as morning dew. He opens his mouth, likely to deliver some sort of fuming retort, but you shove even closer, pinning him bodily to the wall. He could toss you off if he wanted, easy as cake. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you with rabbit wide eyes. “Seriously,” you whine, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “When did you get so cute, Doc? It’s not fair, it just ain’t!”

“If I am crying, it is because I’m mourning all the time we’ve wasted here!” he fumes, finally finding the gumption to give you a hearty shove. You stumble backwards as he redoes his belt and fixes his slacks, unable to suppress a slight shiver. It takes a saintly amount of patience and restraint to not surge forward and put your hands on him again. “The pickup will be here for him in a few minutes. Wait for them. I’ll meet you back at the villa once you’ve finished.” He kicks off the wall, stomping down the alley. To the unaccustomed passerby, he might look undeniably upset, peeved even. But you’re not too worried. 

You can tell he’s not mad, ‘cause the tops of his ears are totally flushed. 

[moreespressoformydepresso]

You ever look at a post and think to yourself that this is the third time now that that specific person’s post feels suspiciously like a subtweet? What a fun feeling to have! Definitely not making me want to scream right now :)

[httpsserene]

ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left. 

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“ 

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.” 

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like. 

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing. 

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss. 

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control. 

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall. 

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can. 

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing. 

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath. 

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other. 

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face. 

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises. 

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come. 

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it. 

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath. 

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide. 

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom. 

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly. 

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago. 

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone. 

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them. 

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.” 

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes. 

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste. 

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.” 

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep. 

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner. 

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

taglist: @lorarri | @soph1644 | @jaydensluv | @fanboyluvr | @nissaimmortal | @redgonerogue | @hollie911 @saintwrld | @buendiabebeta | @butterfly-lover | @lana-d3l-rey | @dylan1721 | @spicybagel14 | @dhhdhsiavdhaj

© httpsserene 2023

[lavnderwonu]

the boy next door | jeon wonwoo

pairing: idol!boyfriend!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: secret relationship, established relationship, smut

summary: sneaking around with your secret boyfriend.

warnings: smut (!!!), little plot lol, wonwoo as your secret boyfriend, softdom! wonwoo, wonwoo is hot (yes that's a warning), mirror sex (kinda?), pet names (baby), praise kink, size kink AHEM, clitoral stimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, reader has to be quiet, hint at another round.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note!: when i tell you this concept has been on my mind for weeks... i'm not lying. the wonwoo brainrot was hitting HARD when i was writing this. i was originally going to make it a secret situationship but im a #1 hater of that whole thing so relationship it is. plus i just think it'd be hot. who wouldn't want wonu as their secret boyfriend? anyway, let me know what you think, i appreciate feedback! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand as you’re in your bathroom, going through your night time routine, just like any other night. As soon as you make it to your phone, it’s stopped ringing. Unlocking it, you see a notification.

Wonwoo

Missed Call

Your boyfriend. Well, only you knew he was your boyfriend, anyway. Although you’d be lying if you never posted any “soft launches” of you two, whether it was an extra iced americano on your counter, or a very obvious mystery man driving while you sat in the passenger seat.

Before you can even call him back, he’s already texting you.

Wonwoo: are you awake? Wonwoo: i saw your story earlier. you looked nice.

You went out earlier in the day to run your usual errands, which usually consisted of shopping of some sort, then wandering around a bookstore. You threw on a cute floral mini dress, and for good measure, you promptly decided to take a picture in your full-body mirror hoping a certain someone would see.

You laugh to yourself, typing out a reply.

you liked it? well you’re too late. i’m in my pajamas now.

It was only 11:30 pm, so maybe it was a tad early for pajamas for some. But for all you know he was probably in sweats playing some game on his phone or reading a book.

Wonwoo: i don’t care, you always look pretty baby Wonwoo: come over here

He lived down the hall from you, with his roommate and best friend, Mingyu. His apartment was easy access, but pretty risky if Mingyu was there, so usually Wonwoo would just come over to yours.

You're about to ask is mingyu there? until he answers the question before you even finish typing.

Wonwoo: mingyu’s gone

You bite your lip, typing a reply. Fuck, you can’t say no.

on my way

You toss your phone on your bed, quite literally, quickly getting yourself ready, you decide to put on your favorite lavender-colored bra and matching panties underneath your pajamas you already had on. Your favorite color; and a different variation of his.

Going down the hall from your apartment, you reach his door, quickly knocking a few times before he answers.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were in pajamas,” Wonwoo jokes, examining you as you walk in. “You were serious.”

“Shut up, it was getting late.” You blush, as you damn near fight the urge to jump him, cause damn. He looks too good, even in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You look cute,” He pulls you close to him, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to grip your waist. “Can’t wait to take them off…”

You lean into him, fingers lightly threading through his hair that’s gotten so much longer recently.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hours.” Wonwoo responds, confident. “Mingyu said he was going out with Jungkook, they’ll probably be out half the night drinking.”

His hands slowly slide up your back, sending your heart thrumming in your chest, you’re unable to deny the effect he has on you.

You both know you’d eventually have to go public with your relationship, but for now, you’d just enjoy the adrenaline rush you get everytime you’re alone together.

You make it to his bedroom, in a heated kiss, you back away to safely removing his glasses and placing them on his nightstand.

Kneeling on his bed in front of him, you quickly tug at the hoodie he has on. “Off.” You order him, and he obeys, pulling it over his head.

He tosses to the floor, before kissing you again, his hands slide up your shirt, groping your breasts lightly through your bra, making you softly moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and his lips softly trail along the corner of your lips, to your jaw, and onward.

You begin working on unbuttoning your silky pajama shirt as Wonwoo trails wet kisses down your neck. His hands take over, effortlessly unbuttoning it. Your eyes glance over to the mirror on the wall, giving you a full view of you kneeling on his bed and him towering over you.

He slips your shirt off your shoulders, and his eyes briefly follow your gaze, realizing what you’re looking at.

“Are you watching yourself in the mirror?” Wonwoo says into your ear, giving you chills.

“Uh-huh.” Your breath shaky as you reply, nodding.

“Turn around.” He suddenly demands, kissing behind your ear before you turn around, your back now facing him.

Wonwoo wraps one arm around your torso, holding you against his sturdy chest. His hand lightly touches your chin, turning you to face the mirror again.

“Keep watching yourself, baby.”

You watch as his free hand slips underneath your pajama shorts, his fingers lightly ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasp as your hips jolt, desperately seeking out more friction.

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, gripping his arm tighter.

His hand slides underneath the elastic of your underwear, applying firm pressure as he circles your clit, before you feel his fingers slide down between your folds and he mutters a breathy fuck against your neck when he feels how wet you are already.

“You’re already dripping for me, baby.” Wonwoo says deeply, voice slightly muffled into your neck. “Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?”

He’s expecting an answer, and it’s impossibly hard now that he’s sliding two fingers inside you, expertly curling his fingers to find that special spot that you often couldn’t reach yourself.

“N-no, I couldn’t… thought about you all day.” You cry, nails digging into his forearm, and he’s seemingly unfazed by it. His fingers pound into your sweet spot, making your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, look at how pretty you look.” Wonwoo says, glancing at your reflection, your brows furrowed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“I’m so close…” You whine, turning to bury your face in his neck as you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne like you never want to forget it.

“I know, baby. You’re fucking squeezing my fingers.” Wonwoo grunts as your walls clench around his fingers. “Let it go, I got you.”

Your legs shake as you grip onto his forearm for dear life, desperate for something to hold onto. A cry of his name leaves your lips as you cum, your heart racing, panting trying to catch your breath.

“That’s my girl.” Wonwoo turns to kiss your forehead gently, his fingers slip from your dripping center, brushing your clit one last time and the friction is enough to make you wince.

He releases his hold on you, and you turn around to face him, kissing him needily. “Fuck me,” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

“So needy…” Wonwoo playfully mocks you, suddenly turning into his unintentionally adorable self, as if he didn’t just pull a powerful orgasm out of you moments ago. “Don’t I at least get to enjoy this cute little set you wore for me?” He pulls off your shirt, even though it was already damn near falling off anyway.

You blush, kissing him again.

“We don’t have time for that.” You chuckle, already feeling somewhat anxious that Mingyu is going to walk into the apartment at any second.

Wonwoo can read you like a book, and he notices right away. “Hey, there’s no rush.” He says gently, as his hands reach behind you to unhook your bra.

You slide it off the rest of the way, then toss it on the floor. “I know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t want to be interrupted.” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you press your body against him, kissing him fervently. You moan against his lips as you feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You slide your hands down his chest, reaching to loop your fingertips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Take these off, baby.” You whisper as you kiss his along jaw a few times, before you grope his length through them for emphasis. “Please.”

Wonwoo gently nudges you to fall back on his bed, and you sit up on your elbows, eagerly watching him as he obeys you, taking them off. “Better?” His gaze meets yours as you look him over.

You eagerly nod, lifting your hips for him as he rids you of your pajama shorts you still had on, along with your soaking wet underwear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Wonwoo huskily asks you, removing his underwear. He curses under his breath as he watches you bend your knees and spread your legs apart, allowing him full access to you.

You gasp as you feel him suddenly pull you further down on his bed, quickly followed by a whine as you feel the weight of his cock on your clit. You sit up on your elbows to see him dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Both of you can only watch, breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo…” You whine his name, gripping the sheets beneath you as the tip of his cock bumps you clit again. You both watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing inside you.

“Look at that.” Wonwoo grunts, watching you take every inch, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back, a soft moan falling from your lips as you feel so full. “You’re too big…”

“You take me so well…look at you.” Wonwoo praises you, as his hands come up to gently stroke your inner thighs, and it’s enough to get you to relax. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can move. Please.”

He starts to pound into you at a steady pace, making you grab onto his shoulders for something to hold onto. Your nails dig into his skin as he drives his cock into your sweet spot over and over.

You let out a sob of a moan, and Wonwoo thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“God, you sound so pretty,” He moans, “Crying for me…”

“I’m not gonna last long.” You whine, your walls already clenching around him.

Your heart nearly stops in your chest when suddenly you hear the front door to the apartment open, then hear Mingyu enter.

You gasp, and Wonwoo quickly shushes you.

“Relax, he’s not going to come in here, he probably thinks I left.” He whispers, all the while he hasn’t stopped fucking you.

“Can you be quiet?”

You can barely find the words to speak, your brain too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Answer me.”

You frantically nod, and that’s about all you can muster the strength to do. Your walls clench around him and he knows you’re close.

“Shit, I’m gonna come…” You softly moan, as quiet as you can, then you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling your cries as your walls squeeze his cock hard, but he keeps fucking you through your high.

He keeps going until he’s coming too, groaning into your neck as you feel his cock nearly throbbing as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo sighs, as you both are catching your breath. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to happen.” You both smile bashfully at each other.

You gently thread your fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehand.

“That’s okay, we can sneak over to my place… we won’t have to be quiet.”

tags: @dearlyjun @cosmojinyoung

some others i couldn’t tag! 💔

[bed-chemist]

ommmmg can u write something with nicolas being a new dad x reader wife 🙏🙏🙏 maybe them visiting his family during a short trip and him being sooooooo daddyyyy 😭😭 after seeing him in those GH pic with this baby …. 🥵😮‍💨 i just need a dad imagines with him since there isn’t any

❝Juno❞

─⋆♡ summary: You’re married to Nicholas Chavez and you bring your newborn baby to meet his grandparents.

─⋆♡ warnings: pregnancy, postpartum depression, fluff, allusions to sex but no smut, Daddy!Nicholas Chavez, Y/N used a few times, 1st person POV. as always i’m always learning so correct me if i missed something!!

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & shoutout to that person because this was super sweet to write. there’s no public info on his parents and i felt weird looking for it so here’s some Chavez grandparents content. since this may be your introduction to me, i do write in first person, just inserting Y/N. 2nd and 3rd person are absolutely insufferable to me and make me wanna die. with that being said, i’m glad there’s no shortage of those fics on this website. my masterlist is the pinned post on my profile and i hope you all enjoy this imagine! ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

The journey to Nicholas’ grandparents’ house is filled with quiet anticipation. We haven’t visited in a while, not since Colette was born. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of introducing Colette to her great-grandparents, Nick SR and Betty. Nicholas always speaks of them with such affection, often recounting tales from his childhood spent at their cozy home. They were instrumental in raising him, and their influence is deeply ingrained in who he’s become. Now, I’m eager to see how they’ll respond to our little family, especially to me as a new mother.

The sun is high in the sky as we pull into the gravel driveway, which crunches under the tires. The house is a charming, white colonial-style home with flower boxes beneath the windows, bursting with vibrant blooms. It looks like something out of a postcard—quaint and welcoming. Nicholas squeezes my hand as he turns off the car.

“You ready for this?” he asks, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

I smile, though my heart races. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond unwilling to let his hand go for the last time.

I eventually gain enough strength to go a second without touching him. We both step out of the car, and I unbuckle Colette from her car seat, carefully lifting her into my arms. She’s dressed in a soft, pastel onesie with tiny flowers embroidered on the front. Her big espresso colored eyes, so much like Nicholas’, blink up at me as she squirms a little in my hold. I kiss her soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby scent that always seems to calm my nerves.

Before we even reach the front door, it flies open, and Betty appears on the porch. Her face lights up in a radiant smile as she hurries down the steps toward us. She’s a small woman, but she moves with surprising speed and agility, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun.

“There she is! Oh, it’s about time!” Betty exclaims, ignoring Nicholas entirely as she comes straight for me and Colette. Her arms are wide open, and she pulls me into a hug, careful not to crush the baby between us. “You, my darling, look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. And this precious girl…” Her voice trails off as she gazes at Colette with shining eyes. “Oh, she’s just perfect.”

I laugh softly, returning her hug. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Betty and thank you.”

Betty steps back, her hands still on my arms, her attention fully on Colette. “No, thank you! You brought another little angel into our family,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made me the happiest great-grandmother.”

Nicholas, standing off to the side, grins as he watches the scene unfold. “Hey, Grandma,” he chimes in, clearly amused. “Good to see you too.”

Betty waves a hand in his direction without even glancing his way. “Yes, yes, Nicholas. We’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes shimmer as she reaches out to gently stroke Colette’s chubby cheek. “She’s absolutely precious,” she coos. “She looks just like Nicholas did when he was a baby.”

Just then, Nicholas’ grandfather steps out onto the porch, his tall frame casting a shadow as he approaches us. His blue eyes light up when he sees me holding Colette. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” he says with a warm grin, pulling me into a quick hug before peering down at Colette. “And look at this—another beauty in the family. You’ve done well,” he adds, giving Nicholas a nod of approval before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well she is 50% of me so…” Nicholas’s twinge of jealousy for his favorite girls peeks out.

“Oh, hush, Nicholas,” Betty replies, waving a hand at him dismissively before turning to me again. “Come on, dear, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted after the drive. And you must let me hold this precious girl as soon as you’re settled.”

Inside the house, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers. The living room is cozy and welcoming, filled with family photos and knick-knacks that speak of years of love and memories. There are pictures of Nick as a little boy, his brother, and even one of us on our wedding day.

Betty leads us to the couch, offering to take Colette for a little while so I can rest. “She’s such a calm baby,” Betty remarks as she cradles Colette in her arms. “I remember Nicholas being a little firecracker at this age—always kicking and fussing. But you, my dear, are an angel, aren’t you?” she coos, her voice full of love as Colette blinks up at her.

Nick Sr. settles into an armchair nearby, watching with a contented smile. “Betty’s right,” he says, his voice warm. “Nick was a handful. Always running around and getting into trouble. I don’t know how we managed to keep up with him.”

Nicholas chuckles, settling beside me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve heard those stories a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Betty says, her eyes twinkling. “But look at you now—such a wonderful father and husband. We’re so proud of you.”

My heart swells at their words, and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. It’s clear how much they love Nicholas and how deeply they cherish their family. Their affection extends to me as well, making me feel welcomed in a way that eases the nervousness I had felt earlier.

Betty carefully passes Colette back to me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes linger on us—on the way I hold my daughter, the way Colette nuzzles into me. After a moment, she glances at Nick Sr., sharing a look that seems to speak volumes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Betty says suddenly, rising from her seat with a bright smile. “We have something to show you.”

She disappears into another room, returning moments later with a large, leather-bound photo album. She hands it to Nicholas with a wide grin. “These are pictures of you when you were about Colette’s age. I thought it’d be fun to compare.”

Nicholas takes the album and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes lighting up as he sees the photos. “Oh wow,” he says, pointing to a picture of himself as a baby, bundled in a blanket. “Look at that, she really does look like me.”

I lean over to see the photo, and sure enough, the resemblance is striking. Colette has inherited her father’s dark hair and expressive eyes, and there’s something about the way she smiles that’s undeniably Nicholas Chavez.

Betty beams. “She’s got that same spark in her eyes that you had. And those cheeks! I could pinch them all day.”

I can’t help but smile as Nicholas flips through more photos—Nicholas as a toddler, covered in mud from head to toe; Nicholas on his first day of school, looking serious and determined; Nicholas holding a toy sword, pretending to be a knight. It’s clear that his grandparents were there for all of it, capturing every moment with care.

“Look at this one,” Nicholas says, laughing as he holds up a picture of himself as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with spaghetti sauce smeared all over his face.

Betty chuckles. “You loved spaghetti. Still do, if I remember correctly.”

As we continue to flip through the album, Betty excuses herself and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she wants to talk about, but her kind smile reassures me.

Once we’re alone, she turns to me, her expression soft and full of understanding. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N,” she says, her voice gentle. “Being a new mom is hard, and it can feel overwhelming sometimes. But from what I’ve seen, you’re handling it beautifully.”

I feel a lump form in my throat at her words, the unexpected kindness bringing a surge of emotion. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It’s been… challenging at times. I have moments where I wonder if I’m doing it right.”

Betty reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Those moments of doubt are normal. Every mother feels them. But you have such a natural way with Colette. She feels safe and loved with you—that’s the most important thing.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I should be able to do more. I get so tired, and Nick’s been amazing, but…” I trail off, stopping myself from revealing my biggest insecurities.

Betty’s eyes soften even more. “It’s okay to ask for help, dear. You don’t have to do it all on your own. If you ever need anything—advice, a break, someone to talk to—you can always come to me. I’m here for you, and so is Nicholas. We’re all family now,” she offers.

Her words wrap around me like a comforting embrace, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful beyond words.

Betty smiles and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

I nod, my heart swelling with appreciation for this woman who has welcomed me into her family with open arms. As we walk back into the living room, I feel lighter, the weight of my doubts lifting just a little.

Nicholas looks up as we enter, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Everything’s perfect.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, Betty leans forward with a warm smile, her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s been so wonderful having you all here today,” she says, her eyes soft as she looks between Nicholas, me, and Colette. “Why don’t you stay the night? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a full house, and we’d love the chance to spend more time with you.”

Nicholas turns to me, his voice gentle as he asks, “What do you think? We don’t have anywhere to rush off to, and it would give me a break from driving back tonight.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer. I think about Colette’s bedtime routine, the packed bags in the car, and my own exhaustion. But as I glance around at the warmth of the house, Nick’s grandparents’ eager faces, and the calmness that seems to settle over everything, I feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a change of scenery, and the idea of spending more time here—surrounded by family—sounds like exactly what I need.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, smiling at Betty. “Thank you. We’d love to stay.”

Betty’s face lights up, and Nick Sr. nods with a wide grin. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ve got the guest room ready, and I can set up the bassinet in the guest room next to it. It’ll be like old times, having a little one in the house again.”

Betty stands, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for later. You two make yourselves at home.”

Nicholas squeezes my hand, a smile spreading across his face. “See? It’s going to be a nice, quiet night—just us, Colette, and the best grandparents ever.”

The evening unfolds comfortably from there. Betty and Nick Sr. share stories about Nick’s childhood over cups of tea, their voices light with laughter and nostalgia. As the night deepens, we finally make our way to the guest room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a soft bedspread, and warm lighting.

Colette falls asleep easily after nursing, making for an easy bedtime routine. Nicholas and I kiss her on the forehead goodnight once we’ve got her situated in the bassinet. We separate briefly to prep for bed and when I’m finished, I crack open the door to the en-suite bathroom.

Nicholas looks up from a script, setting it to the side of the bedside table. My feet patter over to him and he pulls back the duvet for me to climb in. “I’m so tired,” I note as I slide between the sheets.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “I know, baby. Maybe my grandparents will watch her in the morning so we can sleep in,” he theorizes lowly, but I can still feel the bass of his voice rumbling from his chest into my back.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed. It’s been an emotional day, and I’m ready for sleep. “It’s okay if they can’t. I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he breathes out with his lips kissing my ear one last time.

My body lets me drift into sleep, hearing nothing but Nicholas’ breathing and the faint sound of crickets outside. But that peace is eventually interrupted by the familiar sound of Colette’s soft cry filling the quiet room.

I blink awake, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I am. The dimly lit room feels unfamiliar, and for a brief, groggy moment, I can’t remember how we ended up here. But then the memories come rushing back—the visit to Nick’s grandparents, Betty’s kind words, the warmth of the evening.

With a heavy sigh, I sit up in bed, my body aching with fatigue. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and Colette’s cries, though soft, feel like they’re pulling me out of the little bit of rest I’ve managed. The sheets feel cold, and for the first time tonight, I realize Nick’s arms aren’t wrapped around me as they usually are.

The bed dips beneath me, and I hear the soft thud of feet padding across the floor. “Shit,” Nicholas mutters under his breath as he comes into view. I lift my head, watching him groggily fumble with the baby monitor to turn down the volume.

His chocolate tinted eyes meet mine in the dimly lit room, his face softened with a sleepy smile. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly.

I don’t resist as my head falls back onto the pillow. Nicholas tucks the duvet around my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and leans down to kiss my forehead before slipping out of the room.

As my eyes flutter shut once again, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for him—for understanding, for seeing me. Nicholas has always been an amazing partner, but since Colette was born, something has deepened. Maybe it's the way he’s embraced fatherhood, those tender daddy traits emerging in him day by day.

I don’t know how long I drift in and out of sleep before the bed dips once more. This time, I turn over to face Nicholas, only to find him kneeling on top of the duvet, cradling Colette in his arms. He gently rocks her, and his brown eyes, full of apology, meet mine. “I'm sorry, babe,” he says softly. “She’s hungry, and I checked the fridge and my Grandma must’ve given her the rest. We’re out of pumped milk,” he gives his valid reason for disturbing me.

With a tired sigh, I push myself up, scooting back against the headboard. “It’s okay,” I reply, motioning for Nicholas to hand Colette to me. “It’s not your fault I don’t pump fast enough for her.”

Nicholas shifts closer, still kneeling, his eyes warm with reassurance. “It’s not your fault either, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “You’re doing everything right. She’s just got my appetite, that’s all.”

Nick’s words bring a smile to my face as I take our little girl in my arms, feeling the love and support that radiates from him. Colette’s small body relaxes the moment she’s nestled in my arms, and I adjust my position to help her latch on. Instinctively, her tiny mouth finds its way, and I feel that familiar pull as she begins to nurse. The room is quiet now, save for the soft sounds of her feeding and the gentle rustle of the duvet as Nicholas shifts beside me, sitting back in his spot where he just laid.

The weight of exhaustion still presses heavily on my body, but there's something calming about this moment—something intimate and grounding. Colette’s little hand rests against my skin, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she nurses. Despite the tiredness, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

Nicholas watches us, his expression soft and filled with admiration. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender. "You’re amazing, you know that?" he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath in the dark.

I smile faintly, my heart swelling at his words, but before I can respond, he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don’t tell you enough how much I love you... both of you." His gaze flickers to Colette, his eyes warm and full of adoration. "Watching you with her... seeing how strong you are, how much you give every day. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world, Y/N."

His words sink into me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. The weight of my earlier guilt begins to lift, replaced by the quiet assurance that I’m not alone in this. We’re a team, navigating the highs and lows together.

"I love you too," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion as I glance down at Colette, her soft breaths steady against me. "And I’m so grateful for you. I couldn’t do this without you."

Nicholas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise of his words. "You’re the best mom, you know that? And she’s lucky to have you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin.

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his presence and feeling the steady rhythm of Colette’s nursing. In this moment, the exhaustion, the doubts, and the guilt of my postpartum depression fade into the background, leaving only the love we share—the love that brought Colette into our lives.

Nicholas settles back into bed beside me, his hand resting gently on my leg, a silent reminder that we’re in this together. And as Colette’s soft suckling continues, I let myself fully relax.

Once Colette finishes nursing, her tiny body grows limp in my arms, signaling she’s drifted back to sleep. I carefully adjust her, cradling her small frame against my chest. Nicholas is still sitting beside me, his hand never leaving my leg, his eyes filled with the kind of tenderness that makes my heart swell.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nicholas asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I nod, and with practiced gentleness, he scoops her up and places her between us on the bed. Colette barely stirs, her little hands curling up by her face as she nestles into the space between us. The sight of her lying there, so peaceful and content, brings a soft smile to my lips. My body involuntarily slides down and I stoke her cheek with the back of my finger.

Nick lays down with his head propped up in one arm, the other sliding around me. But as I gaze at Colette sleeping peacefully between us, a small wave of anxiety creeps in. What if we roll over onto her during the night? My breath hitches slightly, and I turn my head toward him.

Nicholas immediately senses my concern and shifts closer, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. "Hey, don't worry," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ve got her. We’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen." His thumb brushes against my skin as he speaks, his gaze steady and full of calm. "I’ve read up on this, remember? She’s safe with us. We’re light sleepers, and we’re both hyper-aware she’s here. I’ll make sure we’re careful."

I nod, though the worry still lingers. Nicholas leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You won’t roll over on her. I won’t either. Trust me, baby. And if you’re still worried, I can take her back to the bassinet,” he assures me.

I glance down at Colette, her tiny chest rising and falling, completely at ease between us. There’s something comforting about her being so close, something I don’t want to give up. "No," I say softly, shaking my head. "I want her here with us. I just... I get nervous sometimes,” I admit to him, the concerns laced with my postpartum depression symptoms.

"I know," he murmurs. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re doing it together, okay? She’s safe. We’ll keep her safe,” he promises.

His warmth and the calm assurance in his voice help to ease the anxiety a little, and I let out a slow breath. I snuggle closer to him, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whisper.

Nicholas kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking Colette’s tiny arm before returning it to my waist. “I used to dream about this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and a baby… just lying here like this, all together.” His eyes shine in the dim light, filled with a quiet wonder. “I’d imagine what it would feel like, how perfect it would be. But this... this is even better than I imagined.”

His words sink deep into my chest, filling me with warmth. I glance down at Colette, her chest rising and falling steadily between us, and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. “I’m glad too. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed,” I whisper back.

Nick’s thumb rubs gentle circles over the exposed skin on my side, and for a while, we lie there in comfortable silence, both of us watching Colette sleep. I feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body, and I can’t help but think about our future—about the life we’re building together.

After a while, I glance up at Nick, my voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… having another one? Another baby, I mean.”

His reaction is immediate. His brown eyes light up, the glint of excitement undeniable. He grins, that boyish, playful smile I fell in love with, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Oh, absolutely. I thought one of you was cute, but two though? Didn’t think I could handle it. But now that I’ve experienced it, I want three of you as soon as possible,” he rambles.

I laugh softly, both amused and surprised by his enthusiasm. “Three of us, huh?” I ask to clarify he’s not drunk on love.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his hand moving to stroke Colette’s tiny hand before trailing over my arm. “We could start trying as soon as possible. I mean, why wait? We make great babies together,” he jokes and I stifle a laugh to not wake up our sleeping child.

His grin turns mischievous as he leans in closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “We could even try out some freaky positions this time… you know, spice things up.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at him, though my heart flutters at his words. “That’s all you, God bless your dad’s genetics,” I tease, eyeing him with a smirk.

Nicholas chuckles, clearly enjoying my response, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes too—a real desire to keep building this life together. “I’m serious though,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on my waist. “I want more of this. More of us. I want a whole bunch of mini versions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I feel a flush of warmth spread through me. I lean closer, letting my fingers trace over his arm. “You’re really ready for another one, huh?”

Nick’s gaze locks with mine, intense but full of love. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t just want another one. I want a whole football team of kids with you. As soon as you’re ready,” he says firmly.

I bite my lip, considering his words, feeling the quiet excitement bubbling up inside me. “I might just let you lock me down tonight,” I tease, my voice soft but playful.

His eyes darken slightly, that same spark of mischief flickering in them. “Oh, baby, don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my lips.

I pull back slightly, laughing against his mouth. “Let’s not rush it,” I whisper, even though my hormones are raging at the thought. “But... I do love the idea of growing our little family,” I add to soften the blow of sex denial.

Nicholas grins again, his arm pulling me closer as Colette sleeps peacefully between us. “Then let’s make it happen,” he says softly. “One more baby… and then another after that, we can talk again. I just know I want it all with you. Every first word and every first day of school, my love.”

I smile, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the future he envisions wash over me. “One step at a time,” I murmur, though the idea is already taking root in my mind, the thought of more little ones filling our home with love.

As we lay there, cuddling around Colette, the future feels wide open—and incredibly full of promise. The room is quiet, the soft hum of the night surrounding us, and as we lay there, I feel the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest beneath my palms.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I smile softly, my body already succumbing to sleep as I whisper back,

“Goodnight, Nicholas. I love you,” I murmur, never getting tired of reminding him.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “Both of my girls.”

With that, the last thing I feel is the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of Colette’s breathing between us, and the overwhelming sense of love that wraps around the three of us, pulling us into the soft cocoon of sleep.

The next time I stir awake, it’s to the feeling of the sun shining on my face. Nicholas’ familiar presence is next to me, his body relaxed as he leans back against the headboard. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight rustle of pages as he quietly reads. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the comfort of having him close.

But something is wrong.

I don’t feel Colette.

The tiny body that was nestled between us is gone, and in an instant, a wave of cold panic floods my chest. My breath catches, and my heart starts to pound, my worst fear bubbling to the surface. Oh God, did I roll over her? Did we…?

My eyes snap open, and I sit up abruptly, frantically scanning the bed. My hands reach out, patting the mattress in blind desperation as my breath quickens. Where is she? My mind spirals into worst-case scenarios, and my pulse races faster with each second I can’t find her.

Nicholas looks up from his script, his brow furrowing as he notices my panic. “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but I can hear the concern lacing his words.

“Colette,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper as the fear clutches at me. “She’s not here, Nick. I—where is she?”

Nicholas immediately places his script aside and sits up, reaching for me. His hands find my shoulders, grounding me. “Babe, she’s fine,” he says gently, his voice steady, though I can see the alarm in his eyes as he realizes why I’m panicking. “Grandma has her. She came in earlier to take her so you could rest. She’s with her now, probably showing her off to her knitting group. Everything’s okay.”

I stare at Nicholas, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, but the words slowly sink in. Colette isn’t in danger. She’s not here because Betty took her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the fear begins to ebb away. “I thought… I woke up and she wasn’t there. I thought we—” My voice falters, not even wanting to finish the thought.

Nicholas pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologizes profusely.

I nod against Nick’s chest, the tension finally loosening from my body as I cling to him. “I just… that’s what I’ve been afraid of, rolling over her in our sleep,” I admit.

“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I would never let that happen. I swear that to you,” he adds.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his embrace steady me. My pulse slows down, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped me starts to dissipate, leaving me feeling drained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N,” Nicholas says, his hand gently stroking my back. “You’re a mom. It’s normal to worry, but I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes that are full of understanding. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice still shaky but filled with gratitude.

Nicholas smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some more rest, okay? Grandma’s got Colette covered.”

I nod, feeling the last remnants of panic finally fade. I glance at his script beside him and give a tired smile. “You’re memorizing lines this early?” I pry.

He chuckles. “Just passing the time until you woke up. But you come first,” he vows.

I sink back into the pillows, the warmth of Nicholas beside me a comforting presence now that the fear has passed. As I close my eyes, the world feels right again. Colette is safe, Nicholas is here, and I let myself relax fully for the first time since waking up. The panic has faded into the background, leaving only the steady hum of reassurance from my husband beside me.

[msnova-scotia]

.

[world0fmadness]

FIRE AND ICE

kimi raikkonen x cky / jackass member! wife! reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter x ( platonic! ) oc son

faceclaim: assorted but mainly lucy liu

୨୧ okay so the timeline on this one is a little messy but please just deal with it <3 i imagine they met when they were around 21, had their daughter when they were around 28 and married when they were around 30… so their daughter is around 16 years old… is that messy? a lot of this is from the pov of their daughter and fan accounts since social media wasn’t really a thing in the early 2000’s and stuff…

reading music recommendations: lost in a contraption by cky - along comes mary by bloodhound gang

loveuyn: thinking about how in an old interview yn said she was going to keep her first ever car so it can be her future child’s first car and now tilly has it and absolutely loves it 🥹 photos from tilly’s social media

ckylvr: it’s so crazy seeing her drive the car that was featured in SO much of the early cky stuff 💔 every time i see her post it i do the leonardo dicaprio point like “ oh! that’s the car bam jumped off while it sped down a road ”

❤️ liked by tillyraikkonenln

ynlnstomponme: i hope yn cleaned it REALLY good lmao… the amount of times people have been caught on video vomiting in it is genuinely nuts

> loveuyn: not to mention the blood lmao 😭

> ynlnsbackhand: if that car could talk…

> loveuyn: if that car could talk it’d be taking yn to court straight away for pain and suffering

tillyraikkonenln: the best part about being a late 2000’s baby is you get all your parents cool vintage stuff :D

ynraikkonenln ✔️: you’re grounded for a year

> tillyraikkonenln: i’m sorry mom :(

❤️ liked by ynraikkonenln and kimiraikkonen

> iluvf1: teens calling stuff their parents used when THEY were teens “vintage” just to annoy them is so funny to me

> loveuyn: crying rn, the time tilly was on live and someone commented to ask yn and kimi about AOL “ what the hell is AOL”… and yn immediately giving her a whole history on how she used to flirt with boys in her school over AOL while kimi and tilly just watched her ramble from the side

> oldf1lvr: she needed to educate her baby on the old ways real quick 😭

> kimicelover: kimi had SO MUCH love in his eyes on that livestream… i want what they have

oldf1lvr: tilly, who’s your favourite grid uncle?

> tillyraikkonenln: seb!

> sebastianvettel ✔️: the greatest medal of honour! thank you tilly, come visit soon - sebastian ❤️

> lewishamilton ✔️: what at am i? chopped liver?

> tillyraikkonenln: sorry uncle lew :3

❤️ liked by lewishamilton

> jackass4ever: favourite jackass uncle?

> tillyraikkonenln: CHRIS! definitely chris

❤️ liked by chrispontious

> chrispontious ✔️: thank you very much tilly, always knew you were smarter than your mother

> ynraikkonenln ✔️: get lost 🙄

ckylvr: the amount of HIM and CKY pin badges you can spot in that pile 💔 take me backkkk

jackass4ever: what’s the nastiest thing your mom did on cky? in your opinion…

> tillyraikkonenln: kissed dico and rake 😟

loveuyn: yn’s grid milf fashion highlight ❤️

tillyraikkonenln: i don’t think i’ll ever get used to people calling my mother a milf :(

> iluvf1: lmao poor tilly 😭

oldf1lvr: kimi in the third picture in a boring ass button up and jeans… i hate m*n

> ynlnsbackhand: she’s EVERYTHING, he’s just ken

iluvf1: i miss seeing her interact with fans in the paddock so much, bring our mom back 💔

> tillyraikkonenln: she misses interacting with people in the paddock! they’ll visit soon, her and dad have just been busy with KJ ❤️

> new2f1: KJ? who is that?

> oldf1lvr: it’s their son! they haven’t revealed his name or anything yet since he’s only 5 so they call him KJ because according to yn he’s a double of kimi

> iluvf1: kimi’s genes are incredible because tilly looks EXACTLY like him too 😭

> loveuyn: she’s a double of kimi look wise but has the exact same personality as yn

❤️ liked by tillyraikkonenln

loveuyn: gentle reminder of these adorable pictures yn posted when she was pregnant with KJ ( and the only pictures we have of him so far )

ynlnsbackhand: her comfy mom era was her best era, fight me

❤️ liked by tillyraikkonenln

oldf1lvr: baby KJ 🥹 you can’t even see his face but you can tell he totally IS a copy of kimi

kimicelover: i wonder if KJ will be the future racer, since tilly is more into skateboarding and photography?

❤️ liked by tillyraikkonenln

> iluvf1: maybe! but is the grid really prepared for another iceman 🫣

jackass4ever: i love how whenever she’s in the jackass movies she’s still a total hardass but the second it comes to her babies she just crumbles 🥹

> kimicelover: it’s the same with kimi! he’s still ice cold to most people but the second he sees tilly, KJ or yn he just melts and there’s SO much video evidence of it 💔

ynraikkonenln: my little girl helping me and kimi celebrate our anniversary by cooking dinner for us ❤️

tillyraikkonenln: i burned literally everything… and i’m not a little girl anymore, i’m 16 :(

> kimiraikkonen ✔️: we’re still grateful and you’ll always be our little girl kulta 💙

❤️ liked by ynraikkonenln and tillyraikkonenln

> tillyraikkonenln: oh and did you have to include that picture of me washing up?

> kimiraikkonen ✔️: yes, she did, it’s pretty unbelievable for a teen so we need people to see photo evidence

loveuyn: yn ln… then and now 🥹

tillyraikkonenln: black and white filter on the first pictures made me think my own mother was dead for a second…

> loveuyn: sorry tilly 😭

iluvf1: goddamn, this woman has aged like fine wine…

ynlnsbackhand: just me who thinks she’s got hotter with age?

> oldf1lvr: definitely not just you…

> kimicelover: kimi too though… they’re both so hot as older people… i want them BOTH so bad 😭

jackass4ever: genuinely HOW is this the woman that let dico pee on her in her sleep and only hit him with a belt after?

> oldf1lvr: sorry WHAT?

> loveuyn: the iceland incident…

> ynlnsbackhand: at least ryan got back at him properly for her

> ynlnslighter: those belt whips she gave dico were fucking crazy what do you mean 😭

> ynlnsbackhand: HE PISSED ON HER

> ckylvr: everyone was pissing on each other in iceland, wtf was in the air over there?

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

her parents are in love… gross

tillyraikkonenln: sigh… my parents are still SO in love even after like… 60 years… nasty

kimiraikkonen ✔️: cheeky girl… thank you for taking these pictures kulta 💙

> tillyraikkonenln: wonder who i get that from… you’re welcome isä <3

❤️ liked by ynraikkonenln and kimiraikkonen

ynraikkonenln ✔️: 60 YEARS? you’re pushing your luck missy… love you

❤️ liked by kimiraikkonen and tillyraikkonenln

kimiynlover: if i don’t ever have a love like theirs i have failed at life 💔

sebastianvettel ✔️: KJ is getting big! sending my love ❤️ - sebastian

❤️ liked by ynraikkonenln, tillyraikkonenln and kimiraikkonen

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x reader - even after months apart

You stood in front of the hero commission, a heavy heart in your head, but a blank look on your face as you stare at them.

“So you want me to infiltrate a gang of villains, and gather as much information as you need?”

One of the men nods, clasping his hands together.

“Yes, with your quirk, your heightened sense you are the perfect candidate for the job, we need to know everything regardless of how small it may seem.”

You nod again, looking down at the engagement ring on your finger before looking back up at the ground who had gathered in front of you.

You didn’t exactly have a choice in this, these people controlled your whole career, and if you didn’t thousands of people could be hurt.

“What about my family…? Friends…?”

Someone else sighs and she speaks up.

“They’ll be told that you went missing on a mission, which means we’re going to need your ring, and your phone.”

You hand over your phone, and hesitate to hand over your ring, and they were patient while waiting.

After what felt like forever, you slowly slide it front your hand, pressing a kiss to it, whispering a quick sorry before handing it over to start your uncover mission.

It was going to be long, dreadful, and it would take a while to earn the villains trust before you could start gaining valuable information that’ll help the other heroes when the time comes.

Every night you would sit on your bed in the room they had eventually given you, just staring up at up at the ceiling, thinking about the man you loved.

The man you left behind so you could do this.

The same thoughts always rushing around your mind.

Would he be okay?

Would he be safe?

Is he still looking for you?

Has he moved on?

Will he hate you if this all ends?

Would he still love you?

Would he forgive you?

You sigh, burying your face into the capture scarf of his that you had managed to take from the apartment months ago before you left for this mission.

He didn’t use this one anymore, it was ripped and had some holes, but it still smelt like him, reminded you off him and brought you comfort.

With another sigh, you sit up and cross your legs as you close your eyes, focusing on your hearing while you activated your quirk.

You listened to everything going on around the villains base, moving from sound to sound to find anything that could be of use to the hero commission.

Sometimes you would linger on a conversation to just listen to what villains spoke about when they weren’t committing crimes before you moved on after a few minutes.

Everything of interest you heard you would pick up a book and underline certain words.

More months slipped by, and you dropped the book off in a post office with an address written on it, before going back to the villains base.

They only send you out on small run missions, dropping things off at the post office, each time you changed the address to the hero commissions office.

On the way back you grabbed a new book, and carried on walking down the street with your hood up.

“Stop walking now.” A cold voice demanded.

Your whole body tensed up, and you stopped, recognising the voice.

He was standing in an alleyway just behind you.

“So this is what you’ve been doing? Hiding?” He snapped.

“Shouta please….” You whispered.

“You just disappear without a trace, leave your engagement ring with the hero commission without saying a single word. Is that really how much how relationship was worth to you?” He asked lowly.

You sigh a little bit, keeping your gaze turned towards the ground.

“No….”

“Then what the hell was it?!” He snapped quietly.

You let out a heavy sigh again.

“I think about you every night…” you whisper.

Aizawa carefully looks at you, you wouldn’t even turn to look at him.

“I just… I pray that after all this ends I still have a place inside your heart…. When you see what I’ve become I just… I want to know if you’ll love me for who I am…”

You take a small breath.

“I’ll be back some day… I just hope when that day comes you won’t hate me…”

With that, you slipped into the crowds before he could even think about saying something else to you.

That was all you saw off him, and even then you couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, you felt so ashamed for hurting him the way you had, breaking his trust, leaving him alone.

The mission went on for a few more months before everything was in place for the heroes to move in, and you were immediately taken back to the hero commission and here you spent hours in and out of meetings.

When they were all finished, you stepped outside of the building into the morning sun and took a small breath, looking around.

Your phone was dead, and had been for months, you weren’t sure about going back to the shared apartment, you didn’t even know if Aizawa would even still be there, so you headed to a hotel instead and booked a room for the week.

Getting a shower, you went back out to buy some clean clothes and a charger and went back to the hotel room for sleep and to charge your phone.

What woke you up a knocking on your hotel room door, and with a grumble you got up and walked over to answer it.

“Room service…?” You asked half asleep.

“Guess again.” A gruff voice spoke.

You stared at Aizawa half asleep, and stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m too tired to argue with you right now…”

You walked back over to the bed and laid down, resting your head in your arms as you laid on your stomach.

Aizawa closed the door and walked over, standing at the end of the bed.

He just stared at you with narrowed eyes, and his gaze slowly moved to a few scars on your arms.

He knew you, he knew your body, and he knew that before you just up and left you never had those scars.

He slowly walked over, sitting on the edge of bed, carefully leaning over slightly, getting a better look at them.

“What the hell happened while you were away…?” He whispered.

You just grumbled, still exhausted and rolled on your side with your back to him, your shirt rose up, and he could see a few smaller scars on your lower back and he looked to the bottom of your shirt, slowly reaching out.

Within an instant you grabbed his wrist, now sitting up and looking at him with a warning look.

“Shouta don’t….”

“(Y/N) what the hell happened…? What have you been doing all these months…?”

You took a deep breath, loosening your grip on his wrist but not fully letting go as you looked away.

“I can’t tell you… I’m sorry…”

He nodded, he had a feeling it was something to do with the mission he was sent on with a lot of other heroes to a group of villains base, but he wouldn’t push you to talk about it.

Aizawa sighed gently

He glanced to his scarf that you had taken which was sat on a chair in the corner of the room, then back to you.

“I’m sorry for everything…. For leaving you the way I did… if I could go back and change it I would…”

“I think I understand… but I just… I wish you would have reached out (Y/N) to tell me you were okay… that you were alive…”

You looked away, and he slowly pulled his hand back until his palm was pressed against yours, and he slowly laced his fingers with yours.

You still couldn’t meet his gaze, and his face softened.

“Hey… hey look at me…”

You raised your gaze to meet his, and he brought the back of your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles.

“Whatever happened then.. you’re safe… now come home?”

“You… want me to come back…?”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head.

“Yes, the bed is empty without you and I can’t find anything, come home.”

This made you laugh a little bit, and you grabbed what you had to go back to the apartment with him.

The moment you were through the door Aizawa placed his hands on the sides of your face, gently leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds and he dug through his pockets before finally pulling out your engagement ring, putting it back on your ring finger before kissing it.

“Mine…” he mumbled.

He rested his chin on your head, still holding your hands in his, and you closed your eyes in content.

This was all you wanted, to be back here with him, to be back with your future husband knowing you were safe and loved

[written-in-flowers]

More Than Enough: OT8 X fem!Reader

Pairing: OT8 x Fem!reader

Genre: smut...just loads of smut...hints of fluff sprinkled inside

Word Count: 14k

AU: sugar baby/sugar daddies, contracted dating, polyamorous.

Rating: Explicit, very

Summary: A good movie night turns into something steamier when the members discover you haven't done your laundry yet.

Tags: poly relationship, breast play, nipple play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of it too, gangbang, bukkake (sort of), fondling over clothes and under clothes, group sex, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, sex toys for men and women, blowjobs, handjobs, rough blowjobs/deep throating, slight edging, hella overstimulation, occasional degradation, multiple orgasms, somewhat bisezual sex, ateez!doms, sub!reader, mixed gentle and hard doms, breeding kink, protected sex until the very end so wrap it up because apparently I need to write that idk why it should be obvious but whatever, and lots of aftercare.

Next on Idol Companion

***

You pressed the ‘popcorn’ button on the microwave and hoped it didn’t burn. The popcorn coming out burnt would ruin everything. You spent all day fixing everything to work out: you bought more snacks and drinks, added movies to the watch list, and brought out blankets and pillows for everyone to sit on. The boys told you not to go through so much trouble for a simple movie night, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s hard to get everyone home at the same time. Nights are typically the easiest, so you managed to make it work out. 

Waiting on popcorn, you turned to the refrigerator beside you. The members often posted small notes or reminders on the doors so everyone saw them. A few were written by you, but Seonghwa wrote most of them. On the side of the fridge, they’d pinned two calendars. One calendar showed the basic monthly flower and had the members’ overall scheduled days on it. Personal appointments, Wanteez shoots, photoshoots, live streams, and so on took up small boxes throughout the month. The one right underneath it happened to be an Ateez calendar, each month with a different group photo. You’d written down your own appointments or reminders for upcoming events there. You smiled softly when you spotted a post-it note plastered beside it. 

‘Reminder: PLEASE GO TO YOUR AGENCY APPOINTMENTS!!! Love you so much, -Seonghwa.’ he’d drawn a small heart next to his name, which made you smile. 

Someone posted another note right next to that one. 

‘No, seriously. Please go. They’ll think we’re keeping you hostage. Love you lots -Jongho.’ Jongho had drawn two hearts, which also made you smile. 

You giggled softly to yourself.  They were both right, of course. You’d been missing appointments with the agency because you’d grown to hate them. Every agency meeting included mental and physical examinations. You’d sit down with a therapist to discuss how your relationship with the members is going, if you have any frustrations or complaints you’d like to share, and your overall mental health. Then, you’d leave the therapist for the doctor, who runs a full body check-up on you, sometimes including blood work which you hated because you dislike needles. Your company agent, Sungmi, tells you it is to make sure your body is working to its best ability. 

Also, to make sure you’re free of pregnancies, diseases, or bodily traumas from sex. 

You shuddered imagining what ‘bodily trauma’ might mean, but you’d heard stories. Your tests always came back clean, so why did you need to go? If you had an issue with the boys, you simply sat them down and told them. They listened to you; they discussed and solved issues with you instead of pushing you onto their manager. Other women in your industry told you they hardly talked to their ‘boyfriends’. Kira, another Companion, said she mainly worked with her group’s manager. You understood those situations called for agency meetings, but you didn’t see the need for yourself. Seeing Seonghwa’s note, you knew he wouldn’t let it go until you went. You might as well schedule it before Sungmi did. 

The microwave alarm went off, and you withdrew the piping hot bag. You dumped it into the bowl, and sprayed a bit of butter. Mingi liked lots of butter on his, so you made a separate bowl for him. You knew he’d appreciate the consideration, but it was your job to know these things. As an ‘Idol Companion’, you are supposed to know things your partners like and do them to make them feel better. People who read about your situation online tend to think you’re simply a sex doll for kpop idols, and think they’re able to do it. You often shut down ignorance by telling people what you went through with your training. ‘Training’? Yes, ‘training’. 

Because, sex and looks aren't the only part of the position. You told these people they needed to be ✨ interesting ✨. Learning the art of conversation and entertainment are two key ingredients. There are also lessons in psychology, literature, dance, music, art, and history. You said a proper Companion knew how to appeal to all kinds of people, not a singular type. A Companion needed to be charming, charismatic, and intelligent. If a man or woman wanted an idol to like them, they needed to be more than a pretty face. Nowadays, Companions don’t date an entire group like you do, since they find more stability with soloists or dating non-exclusively. People who do date groups usually have a second or third partner to share “the load” with, but that really depends on the company’s budget. Ateez had no such budget when they began, so when KQ approached your agency, they could only select one. Not that you minded. You’d gained enough experience by then to handle all eight idols. Still, it is no easy task, especially with your chaotic boys. You have seen many outsiders try and fail to go through the process because they thought it was all about ‘dating hot Korean idols’. You won’t lie; it is certainly a perk, but there’s more underneath the surface, you’d tell them.

‘You’re not a prostitute. You’re a companion, a friend, a partner.’ 

Mama Kim’s words rang in your head as you finished Mingi’s bowl, and pulled out a bag of chips. You’d gone out and bought the spicy ones Jonhgo liked, since he’d mentioned craving them yesterday. Little things. It was all about the ‘little things’. 

“There you are, beautiful.” His shuffling feet alerted you to his presence and you looked over your shoulder to see Yunho walking into the kitchen. Very tall and broad shouldered, he ran his hand through his black hair and kissed your cheek. He looked over your face and hair, seeing the new style and length. “Gorgeous,” was all he said before pecking your lips. “I haven’t seen you all day,” he said, pecking your lips next and then grabbing a large bowl from the top shelf. “I thought you’d be home around lunch.” 

“I ran some errands after my appointment,” you explained, trying to open the bag, “And then I went out to lunch with some friends before going to see my parents. I told them I’d stop by sometime this week, so I took my free day to go.”

“How are they?” he asked, leaning on the island counter. “Is your mom feeling better?”

“Much better,” you answered, struggling to open the chip bag. Your parents both moved closer to you when they retired, so that way you’re not so far from them. “She keeps asking when I’m going to bring all of you over again. I told her we’ve all been too busy, but I can only say that for so long.”

Yunho opened the bag for you with ease, filled the bowl, and looked at the calendar. “We have time off towards the end of the month,” he said. “We can work out a day then. I’d love to see your parents again.” 

“We’re seeing YN’s parents?” Wooyoung walked into the room, white shirt hanging from his shoulders and black hair damp from a shower. “When?” He gave you a brief kiss then wrapped his arms around you. “I have to get your mom flowers.” He checked out your new hairstyle, and smiled, “You look beautiful, by the way.” 

“Thanks, and we’ll see them soon,” you said. “I was telling Yunho that she’s feeling better and wants us to visit.”

It took your parents a while to get used to your job; they thought it might be a bit much handling eight men. But, when they saw how happy the boys made you, they stopped questioning you. Honestly, they saw this polyamorous situation of eight boyfriends as a higher likelihood of marriage and pregnancy. Marriage meant financial security, stability, and someone would be looking after you when they’re gone. Pregnancy for them meant grandchildren they could dote over, spoil and brag about to their friends. You told them that you didn’t need a man or children to enjoy life or be happy, to which they said:

“Says the girl who has eight boyfriends.”

“We’ll be having some days off soon,” he said. “We can think of something then.” 

Yunho left the kitchen with the chip bowls, leaving you and Wooyoung alone. The youngest moved to grab a popcorn bowl when he hesitated. Your cheeks burned when you realized that he’d felt it. You’d sort of hoped they didn’t notice. With everything you did today, laundry ended up on the bottom of the list. But, they’re your boyfriends and are also men, so you shouldn’t be so surprised. 

And, yes, maybe you did hope one or two might notice. 

“No panties?” Wooyoung grinned widely, pulling your body closer to his. “Naughty.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you excused. “Someone used up all the detergent and didn’t buy more, and I forgot to buy some when I went out today.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he smiled, unconvinced. “You just so happen to be wearing no panties,” he pressed you to the counter, “On a night when all eight of us are here?”

“It is a coincidence, I promise,” you replied, not protesting when his hands gripped your hips. 

“Oh, sure, yeah, I believe you,” he planted more kisses on your lips. “Hm, perhaps we should go see your parents in a month or so. By then, we’ll have some good news to share-”

“-Wooyoung!” 

He sealed over your shared laughter with another kiss before someone else walked into the kitchen. “Who are we sharing good news with?” Yeosang arrived next, wearing a hoodie over his shirt and lounge pants. 

“YN’s parents want us to come over,” Wooyoung answered, releasing you and going to the fridge nearby to grab drinks for everyone. 

“Ah, fun,” Yeosang grinned. “You know I don’t mind going.” Yeosang brought you into his arms next, giving you the gentlest of kisses, before he also paused. Yet, instead of saying anything, he questioned you with a look and then smirked when you bashfully turned away. “Love what you did to your hair,” he said instead, “And cool, I like hanging out with your dad.”

“Yeah, your dad’s a cool guy,” Wooyoung agreed. You smiled at their compliments, “Any idea what movie you want to watch, babe?” 

“None at all,” you answered, watching Yeosang leave you to grab cups from the shelf. “I saved a whole bunch of movies earlier today, but I’ll let you guys pick. As long as it’s not another superhero movie; I’m getting so tired of those.”

“I’ll personally make sure it’s not," smiled Yeosang.

You followed the pair out of the kitchen into the living room. It's not by any means large, so the long sectional sofa took up the wall in front of the television. Seonghwa, Mingi, San and Hongjoong already occupied spaces in the room: Mingi took up the long chaise section of the sofa, with Yunho taking over the massage chair at the end. Seonghwa sat in the middle seat with Yeosang; San sat in the far right corner, with Wooyoung sitting beside Mingi and Hongjoong on the comfy armchair opposite the massage chair. You noticed one person still missing. 

“Where’s Jongho?” you asked them, noticing the youngest one’s absence. 

“Gaming,” answered San, bundling up underneath covers to avoid the chill in the room. 

Leaving the living room, you went down the hall to the larger bedroom. Beside a bed up against the wall, Jongho sat at his computer with headphones on and absorbed in his game. You stood there a few seconds to see if he noticed you, but when he didn’t, you walked up to him and gingerly lifted his headphones from his ears. Jongho let out a cry of protest, but quieted when he saw you.

“Movie night,” you answered his questioning gaze. “Come watch it with us.”

“Hm,” he leaned back in the chair, pondering thoughtfully, “I don’t know. I’m kinda deep in my game here. I’m not sure I could go right now,” he gave you a sly smirk. You’d have to convince him. 

“The game can wait,” you took his hand in yours and pouted, “I haven’t seen any of you all day. Come into the living room and sit with us. I got those spicy chips you like.” 

His hand was so close to your body, he broke away to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you into his lap. Giggling from the sudden pull, he blindsided you with a kiss that started light and quickly became tender. It was then that Jongho noticed it:

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he said in your ear, lust making him exhale deeply. “I can feel it through your shorts.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet,” you said. “It’s no big deal.” 

“I feel bad for anyone sitting with you,” He gripped your thigh tenderly and said, “They’re going to have a hard time keeping their hands off you…especially when you’re not wearing a bra either.”

“But that’s not that new,” you replied, pushing hair from his face. “I rarely wear bras in the dorm. You’re all pretty immune to that.”

“Eh, not as immune as you think,” he disagreed. “I know there have been days where I avoided Braless YN so I don’t get inconvenient boners. Now, add no panties to that equation, and…you know what? I think I’m good here.” 

“Oh hush,” you giggled, moving to slide off him, “You’re coming with me, Mister.” 

“Or we can stay here,” he suggested, bringing you back to his lap, “And play while they watch the movie?”

“Another time,” you said, leaving his lap and taking his hand. 

Jongho sighed defeatedly and followed you back into the living room. You took a seat with Mingi, and snuggled with him underneath the blanket. The winter chill became more noticeable in the lounge area than anywhere else in the dorm. You regretted not wearing more layers than the tanktop, sweatshirt, and shorts you’d pulled on. Making a mental note to finally do your laundry was interrupted by gentle lips pecking the cartilage of your ear. 

"I missed you," Mingi said, kissing the spot again. "I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You did see me though,” you told him, flipping over to look at him properly. “You saw me this morning when you woke up.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” you laughed, recalling a groggy, disheveled Mingi leaving his room earlier that morning. “I said ‘morning, princess’ and you went ‘mmphrfmurmur’ and went into the bathroom.” 

“I don’t remember that,” he replied, smiling softly. “I was half-asleep.”

“When did you go to bed?”

“Late.”

The Ateez way of saying ‘probably at 2 or 3am’. You’d gotten used to hearing this answer from any given member, so you said nothing else and moved onto another subject. 

“What’d you do today?” he asked, putting an arm around you. At this, you saw a hint of realization hit him, but much like Yeosang, Mingi just kept on talking, “You were gone all day.” 

"Going anywhere but to her appointments," said Seonghwa, already munching on popcorn while waiting on the others to pick a movie. "Sungmi called," he said, "She's supposed to call one of us if you miss too many. Why aren't you going, babe? You know you're supposed to."

"They're going to think we have you locked up in a bedroom somewhere if you don't go soon," joked Jongho, who’d taken a spot between Yeosang and Seonghwa.  

"I don't need to go," you whined, turning over to look at him. "If there was something wrong with me, I'd know and I'd go."

"That doesn't matter," said Seonghwa. "Go to the appointment." He looked over at Hongjoong, who was arguing with Yeosang about the movie choices. "Hongjoong, tell her to go to her appointment. She listens to you."

"Nah, not that one! Let's watch the first one. That's the best one," he told Yeosang, not having heard Seonghwa.

"They're all lame, in my opinion," said San. "Does it have to be that one?”

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa threw a popcorn piece at Hongjoong, who looked at him affronted, "Tell YN to go to her agency appointments. Sungmi says she has to go or they're going to do a house visit."

"Why aren't you meeting with Sungmi?" He asked you curiously. "It’s not just for us, but it’s for your health.” 

"They schedule them too early," you said, giving him your famous pouting expression. 

"Then reschedule them for later in the day. You have to go to these appointments; it’s in the contract that you go at least every three or four months" he said. 

"But I don't need to. I’m fine.” 

"Oh, really?" A smirk slowly stretched across his face, "Maybe we should give you a reason to go, then? Since you don't have one?"

The others stifled laughter, and your cheeks burned again. The words 'bodily trauma' came back, and a shiver went up your spine. Not once have your partners pushed you beyond your limits or boundaries; they made sure you remained comfortable and safe as possible. Yet, the slight implication in Hongjoong’s question brought a creeping heat around your ears. You hid half your face to conceal your embarrassed smile. 

"I'll go," you squeaked.

"What was that?" He asked, tilting his ear towards you. 

"I'll go to the appointment tomorrow."

"Good girl," he smiled fondly. He turned to Seonghwa, "See? It's that easy." He turned back to Yeosang and San, “Let’s watch the first one. It’s so bad, it’s almost good.” 

Seonghwa chucked another popcorn kernel at him, though ruined the effect by laughing. The group finally decided on a film, and settled in as it started to play. Mingi curled into the corner of the couch and put his arm around you underneath the blanket, so your back remained facing him. The warmth of him and the blanket fought off the winter air pressing into the glass windows. The movie, a sci-fi film featuring a scientist, a county sheriff, and a pair of college kids taking on a half-octopus/half-shark monster, proved as terrible as Hongjoong insisted it’d be. Though, the boys and you took this in spirit; you all made fun of the movie rather than take it seriously. You laid there in Mingi’s arms as you enjoyed their company. It felt good being surrounded by all of them at once, rather than in pairs or smaller groups. 

A bikini clad girl happened to be screaming bloody murder when something else took your notice. At first, you thought the small bump might be bundled up fabric or simply your imagination. You focused your attention on the girl making feeble attempts to swim from the CGI shark-topus, but when Mingi shifted uncomfortably, you couldn’t help but move with him. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi mumbled in your ear, lips right against the edge, “I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said as quietly as possible. You did your best not to move too much, but the hardness poking your ass tempted you. “I don’t mind.” 

“Oh?” Mingi slowly rocked his hips into you, the shaft of his length pushing into the fabric of your shorts. The lack of underwear caused an even more apparent warmth. His arms secured you close to him underneath the blanket, and he began kissing the crook of your neck. “Is that why you’re not wearing any underwear?” 

“Haven’t done laundry yet,” you said. Thinking about it now, you realized how they might perceive this, especially when Mingi’s cock twitched against you. “I didn’t have any to wear.” 

“And instead of washing some,” he began, “You decided to walk around without underwear? In this dorm?” you heard the accusation in his voice, and he laughed, “It sounds planned to me…and maybe I should give you what you want.”

“Mingi…” the heat from before crept over the rest of your body now, and the cool air no longer bothered you. "Here?"

"If that's what you want," he said, deep voice sending shivers to your core. "We can go to my bedroom instead. They can listen to us rather than watch this crappy movie." He kissed the crook of your neck, and said, "I know you like it when we overhear you…"

He wasn't wrong. You never said it out loud but anyone paying attention during sex would notice how aroused you became at being watched. Most of the members knew this, and the naughtier ones liked doing it within the vicinity of others. You gazed back into the room as Mingi groped and rubbed up on you. The other members sat near you; all of them remained focused on the movie playing in the living room, except for one. Hongjoong. He didn’t fully turn around, but he’d looked over to see you in Mingi’s arms. The light of the television illuminated the knowing smirk that went across his face. He scanned down your body, as if he could see through the thick blanket, and you bit back a whimper. He knew, even if nobody else noticed. Warmth began pooling between your legs as you pictured him coming over, pulling off the covers and pawing at you with Mingi. It wouldn’t be the first time. Your eyes stayed locked with his, and you gave a pleading expression. He glanced at the rest of the room as if to say, "Right here? You dirty girl." 

You wouldn't have denied it either. The dirtiest fantasies of yours involved all of them ganging up on you, using your body any way they wanted and bringing you to climax multiple times. Hongjoong knew this because you’d confessed it to him; he said it’d be the hottest thing you ever did. However, you never brought it up to anyone else. You weren’t sure if you could physically handle all eight men taking advantage of you. You knew possibly three or four is manageable for you, but eight is excessive. You knew if you did that, you wouldn’t sit or walk right for a while; particularly with how horny and dirty some members get in the heat of the moment. The full on orgy would stay in your fantasies. 

Mingi slipped his hands underneath your sweater, and you jumped at his cold fingers. Hongjoong didn’t look away; his leering didn’t alert anyone around him, so he kept watching. You dared to release a soft whimper when those hands grasped your breasts over your tank top. Mingi hummed in your ear, continuing to gradually grind into you. The movie’s volume drowned out any noises made between you, and your blanket concealed your movements. Hands over the tanktop and under your sweater, Mingi pinched and rolled your nipples gently. 

“You really like when he watches, don’t you?” Mingi asked. 

“A little.” 

He let his lips linger on your shoulder, “I think it’s more than ‘a little’.” 

The gesture sent waves of warmth to your lower half, where you started pushing back into Mingi’s hips subtly. You could feel Hongjoong casting occasional glances your way, which only added fuel to the fire. You felt Mingi’s length grow against you, the small bump getting steadily harder. Your pussy pulsed when he gave your tits another squeeze and pinched your nipples at the same time. Your thighs squeezed together for a form of friction, but wished for more. 

“You’re not wearing a bra either. I can’t resist you when you’re braless.” He pecked the spot beneath your ear and said, “It’s torture…You do it on purpose,” he added the last bit as he rolled your nipples in his fingers. 

A sudden gasp escaped you when a small surge of cold air snuck under the fleece blanket, and a hand slipped right between your thighs. You opened them to see Wooyoung right beside you on the floor. Dark eyes usually full of sweetness and innocence looked at you with seductive lust. His hand slid along the inner seam of your shorts; that dangerous seam connecting both sides together where he could feel your pussy the easiest. Merely the warmth of his hand built up your arousal further. His middle fingernail dragged against the seam, a very slight vibration coming from the friction. 

“He’s not the only one,” said Wooyoung, clearly having overheard you both. “I like looking at them too, but I personally think you should be bottomless instead.” He pushed his finger to your sex oh-so-slightly, causing you to exhale deeply. He could no doubt feel your bare sex underneath the flimsy shorts, since he then lightly rolled his fingers around it. He smirked when you clenched your thighs around his hand. “That way, I can see this pussy whenever I want without so many layers in the way. You always keep it looking so pretty and yummy,” he gave a small growl before sealing his lips over yours. Mingi continued groping your tits while Wooyoung fondled your pussy. “I can't get enough of it."

"Me neither," agreed Mingi, who continued groping your chest and kissing you. "But your tits are my favorite part."

Mingi pulled the blanket off you and lifted your sweater and top over your chest. You gasped at the sudden exposure, but it did not last long. Mingi shifted around to let you lay on your back as both men started licking and sucking your nipples. The sensation of two mouths teasing your breasts and two hands roaming your body electrified you. You tried staying quiet as Mingi firmly sucked one nipple and Wooyoung slowly swirled his tongue around the other. Wooyoung kept tracing the inner seam to drive you wild, and you almost forgot the other men in the room. ‘Almost’ because another pair of hands soon joined in. Sliding up your thighs, Yunho kissed his way to your hips, sliding up the chaise section to your legs. 

“What’s going on over here, hm?” he asked, dotting kisses on your thighs. “Is this movie too boring for you?”

“It sucks,” said Mingi, capturing your lips for a kiss. You moaned into his mouth, unable to stop yourself. “I found something more interesting to do instead.” 

Yunho’s long arms reached up far enough to the curves of your breasts. He took up the one Mingi abandoned, and carefully circled his thumb around your hard nipple. You surrendered completely once Yunho’s fingers hooked the waistband of your shorts. 

“Let’s get these off,” he said, kissing down your stomach as Wooyoung switched sides and suckled your other breast. You felt more exposed once Yunho pulled off your shorts to reveal the truth. “Oh god, no panties,” he breathed, “I knew it. I could tell when I saw you in the kitchen.”

“Me too,” said Wooyoung, who joined him in kissing down your body. “I told her she should walk around bottomless from now on. That way,” he went back to rubbing your sex and you squirmed at the new feeling, “I can see this whenever I want.” 

“Fuck, if you did that,” Yunho moaned, sitting on the couch and spreading your legs, “You’d be sitting on my face nearly all day.” 

“I’d love it,” you breathed in between Mingi’s kisses, “I love your tongues so much.”

“Oh, do you?” Wooyoung said, mischief in his voice as he knelt closer to your hips. He sat up fully to hover over your pussy. Having him and Yunho this close made your clit throb. “No wonder you flaunted it in the kitchen. It is where we eat after all…”

“I’m pretty hungry right now…” said Yunho, laying between your legs on the couch and swiping his tongue over your slit. 

Mingi took over your nipples while Wooyoung and Yunho rested over your lower half. Being pinned down by Wooyoung’s arm, you couldn’t move away from the light brushes against your lips. One tongue already made you a whining mess; two tongues had your eyes rolling back. The tips of their tongues prodded between your folds carefully, sliding and licking them open until they found your clitoris. Yunho’s tongue licked over the underside while Wooyoung took over the top. Both of their tongues came together in the middle, creating this encompassing sensation that had you breaking away from Mingi to moan out loud. You didn’t care if the others heard you. You wanted them to hear you. You wanted all of them, at once, together. Hongjoong happened to be looking on longer as the three men groped and licked you. Your cheeks heated up from the sudden realization from his staring, and you looked away. It was when Wooyoung took your clit in his mouth, and moaned against it that you let go. Yunho, liking this reaction, did the same when his turn came. Both men began alternating: Yunho at your entrance and Wooyoung on your clit. You thought you might lose your mind. 

You then reached down Mingi’s body to the boner pulsing against your side just to hear his deep, low groan in your ear. You rubbed along the tent forming in his shorts until you pushed it aside to let his cock out. Your mouth watered, feeling the thick muscle pulsate against your pelvis and picturing it elsewhere. You loved hearing the members moan when you had sex with them. You loved Wooyoung’s soft sighs and Yunho's throaty groans. Mingi was no exception. He moaned into your neck, groping your breasts still and rocking into your hand. You gripped it gently to wipe your fingers over the wrinkled underside, the sensitive part that made him harder. You loved pleasuring them as much as they loved pleasuring you. 

“I’d gladly walk around naked,” you said to them, arching your back as Wooyoung and Yunho’s tongues flicked your sex, “If you guys do too. Living in a dorm with so many yummy cocks to choose from is a dream.” 

They all chuckled as they pleased you. Then, another voice called out when a lamp turned on. “Hey, turn her around so the rest of us can watch too.” 

It was Jongho, and his comment made all of you laugh. Yeosang, sitting beside him on the couch, flicked on the opposite lamp. A bit of shame heated your cheeks as dim lighting brought you into their view. No matter how long you’d been with them, having their attention on you still made you bashful. Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho let you sit up on the couch. You let Mingi pull off your sweater so you sat naked under their gaze. Their jaws dropped seeing you bare in front of them in the living room, a public place in your dorm. They still reacted this way whenever they saw you naked. Whether in the bedroom or somewhere else, every time was their first time. Nothing made you feel more desirable than having all of them entranced by your body. 

“Lean back, baby,” Mingi said, tugging down his shorts and kneeling beside you. 

You took his tip in your mouth at once, giving a soft moan when the hot tip touched your tongue. Yunho and Wooyoung knelt in front of you, each man holding one of your legs and continued eating you out together. Inch by inch, you drew Mingi further in; you held him by the base, cupping his balls in your hand at the same time so he had that extra stimulation. You looked up to see Mingi had stripped further down, his naked torso now visible and making him a jaw-dropping sight. Full lips parted in every moan, you saw the need for release etched into his features, but you refused to give him that. Not right away. The slew of moans the two men beneath you caused became muffled by Mingi’s dick; an act you’re certain drives him wild. Mingi liked pleasuring you while you pleasured him for this reason.

Slurping up the juices your spit and his precum made, you let your tongue linger under for a few moments before suckling the throbbing muscle. You could feel it pulse on your tongue and against your cheeks; more precum leaked inside and you swallowed greedily. All this made Mingi grab a hold of your hair and force you to the base. Letting him guide you, your hand moves in tandem with your mouth. The bundle of sensations coursing through your body caused trembling and sensitivity as Wooyoung and Yunho brought you closer to climax. You knew you'd explode from their tongues teasing your sex from top to bottom repeatedly. Their light flicking tightened the knots tightening between your legs. 

"So soon, baby?" Yunho said, pecking along your inner thigh. "We've barely started."

"I can't help it," you whimpered. "It feels so good-Ah, Wooyoungie!" 

Wooyoung responded with a growl he made sure you'd feel. His tongue slashed across your clit from side to side and you nearly collapsed from the sensation. Mingi pushed himself back into your mouth, grunting and groaning along with you. The climax burning in your lower stomach slowly built until you were shaking. You'd always been able to hold it back whenever you took on multiple partners, but the possibility of fulfilling your greatest fantasy charged it forward. You didn't know what the end result would be, and you couldn't wait for it. 

"No, no, no," Wooyoung said, pulling away right as your orgasm touched the edge. "You hold onto that for now."

"You haven't been fucked yet," Yunho added. "You don't want to cum without anything inside you, do you?" 

"But…but I don't know if I can," you pouted at him. "It tingles a lot."

They awed at this, and it was Mingi who spoke. "Just relax and enjoy this," Mingi sighed, pressing his tip to your mouth again.  

“I’ll take your mind off it.”

San. You knew what he meant before he even approached. He positioned himself opposite Mingi; he stood on the couch and leaned on his side. Your mouth dropped open when he pulled his pants to his thighs. Having San exposed like this made you gravitate to him. Your body continued gradually coming down from the edging, so neither Wooyoung or Yunho touched you right away. They stuck to being spectators below, watching you along with everyone else. 

Stroking Mingi’s wet cock, you opened your mouth for San. He groaned at the first touch of your tongue to his underside. San liked it when you took your time; he didn’t like hasty, half-assed sex. You licked him from base to tip without using your hand, so his shaft stayed on your face every lick. San groaned as he watched you trace the veins along his stiffness and suck on the tip each time. Concentrating on both Mingi and San made it easier to avoid stirring up your orgasm again. You turned to Mingi, and opened your mouth for him. He grabbed his base to smack the head on your tongue, sliding it along the length of your tongue before pushing into your mouth. 

“Such a dirty girl,” San moaned, forcing your head back so both cocks settled over your mouth, “You can never have enough dick, can you?” When you shook your head, the room chuckled. “I think you’re going to get more than your fill of dick tonight, sweetie.” 

“Especially when you’re so eager for more…”

Mingi held you by the hair as they took turns in your mouth. All around you, you could hear the other members talking and felt their eyes drinking you in. You didn’t feel an ounce of shame. They loved you, and you loved them. You had no reason to be ashamed of this kind of behavior. You liked having them watch. Before any of them ever touched you, you used to like letting them sneak peeks at you in the shower or in your bedroom, getting dressed. The largest turn on was when one member walked in on you with another, and he stayed to watch. They know you like being watched, and did it now just for you. When San plunged himself down into your throat, you received nothing but encouragement and praise. 

“Hold it, hold it,” you heard Seonghwa’s deep voice instruct from nearby. “See how long you can keep that dick in your throat, baby.” Your throat tightened reflexively around the intrusive length, and you struggled for air for a few seconds. “Remember what I taught you,” he said, sounding closer now, “Relax and breathe through your nose.” 

You tried. You really did, but you finally pulled away from San, coughing and gasping for air. You looked to see Seonghwa sitting where Wooyoung had been on your left, hand gently rubbing your inner thigh. Shirtless in lounge pants, Seonghwa was a vision of beauty. Black hair in an undercut, sharp features bare and perfect, he resembled a painting in a high end museum. How could you not love a face like his?

“I’m sorry,” you coughed, chest heaving up and down. “I tried.”

“That’s okay, angel,” he said, “Try it with Mingi’s now.” 

Mingi guided you fully onto his dick, your lips brushing the hilt while his cock touched your throat. He isn’t as long or as large as San, so you managed it with ease. Seonghwa looked on intently. He liked seeing you give the other members blowjobs before getting one himself; he once said he liked having them warm you up for him. Mingi and San both groaned each time you took one of them in your throat. San moved in and out of it easily, enjoying the gagging sounds you made each time he did it; Mingi liked keeping you firmly down while Wooyoung and Yunho made you moan through your throat. The pleasure heightened when a tongue swiped over your soaked, stimulated pussy. 

“Mm, tastes so good,” Seonghwa growled, making sure you felt it before he suckled the sensitive nub. “I could eat this all day, and never get bored.” He gave it a soft kiss, “Especially if she’s throating my cock while I do it.” 

“Same” Wooyoung agreed, using his turn to make rapid swirling motions there. This instantly stoked the fires inside you again. Yet, every time you grew close, they pulled away. It became total torture that you never wanted to stop. “I could do this all day. I don’t care if my jaw locks up. Hearing her cum is worth it every time.”

The members laughed at his bold statement, but it only made you hornier. You went back to sucking Mingi’s dripping cock when something slim and long finally slid inside you. You looked to see Yunho’s mouth agape as he slowly pumped two fingers into your pussy. He shifted to the side somewhat so the rest of the room could see his fingers stretching your hole while the other two licked your clit. San had been fucking your mouth when Seonghwa and Wooyoung spread your lips further to greedily lap at the pearl hiding in the folds. The cries of pleasure were muffled by the thick cock filling your mouth, but they heard them nevertheless. 

“I think she’s going to cum,” Yunho said smugly, maintaining the same pace throughout. “I can feel that pussy getting tighter and tighter.” He pulled them out to rub your juices over your clit and back down, your clit getting a break from tongues to enjoy fingers instead. Your mumbled whimper amused him, and he repeated the torturous motion again. 

“I don’t know if I want her to cum yet,” Seonghwa pouted, kissing up your body to your nipple which he suckled softly. “I just got here. Let me see…” His hand replaced Yunho’s inside you, also going slow and steady. You could feel his fingers prod your g-spot briefly, making you see stars behind your eyelids. Each stroke had you whining, and sucking two different cocks added to this pleasure. “She is close,” he agreed with Yunho. “Look at her, she’s shaking,” you heard the taunt in his voice, and you switched over to Mingi once more. Your eyes met his and his jaw dropped, “I bet you want to cum really bad, don’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you gasped, taking a moment to breathe and stroking both San and Mingi. 

“Let me…” Wooyoung stopped using his mouth and instead fingered you right as Seonghwa withdrew. “Ooh,” he cooed, “It’s squeezing my fingers every time I go in. Especially when I go in deep like this.” 

He demonstrated by sinking his fingers into the last knuckle, pressing on your g-spot and making you cry out. He did this repeatedly a few times, and brought you so close you nearly went over. He pulled them out to rub over your clit once more. He started rubbing your clit up and down while Yunho’s fingers filled your pussy again. Seonghwa took occasional flicks and licked up the mess your juices made. It reminded you of the time San and Wooyoung tied you to your bed, where they teased and edged you the way you liked. You went back to sucking Mingi’s cock, the blond haired man groaning as you hollowed your cheeks for him. Seeing your shaking thighs and hearing your moans, the other members sensed your orgasm from afar. 

“Come on, now. You know you want to cum.”

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, baby. We want to hear you cum.”

From across the room, your eyes locked with Hongjoong’s. He sat in the arm chair at the end of the couch, lounging casually and watching you like he’s watching his favorite tv program. The sight of him passively observing you somehow made you more sensitive. 

You’d never tell a single soul just how much you enjoyed Hongjoong’s cock. You'd never reveal how his dick was the one you craved during lonely nights; how you loved the feel, the taste, and the size of him. He’d been your first, and he’d always carry that title with him. Yunho sunk his fingers deeper inside, moving them faster and angling them a bit higher; Wooyoung worked on your clit while Seonghwa reached up to suck your nipples. Hongjoong caught your gaze, and groped the bulge growing in his pants. 

“Cum,” he mouthed out, biting his lower lip and eyeing you closely.  

As if activated by his voice alone, you climaxed. Body stiffening on the couch, muscles contracting, your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm blew through you. You suddenly became so hyper aware of the men stimulating you; the men watching you in the room and eagerly awaiting their turn with you. Yunho kept the same pace during your orgasm, the motion of his fingers making your eyes roll back. It was absolute bliss. 

Coming down from your orgasm, you saw Jongho and Yeosang preparing a space in the center of the living room. Jongho placed down blankets from around the couches, while Yeosang put pillows where you’d be more comfortable. Seonghwa guided you from the couch to a space on the floor, where he let you kneel down on a long pillow cushioning your knees. Taking up your hair again, this time he eased his cock into your mouth. Your throat already accustomed to it from Mingi and San, you took his cock with nearly no difficulty. The entry burned your throat every so often, and brought tears to your eyes. They brimmed your eyelashes, and trickled down the sides to your cheeks. Seonghwa only wiped them away with his thumb. 

"Take it easy," he said gently. "You don't have to be so hasty with me."

Seonghwa never bragged about it, but they considered his dick ‘above average’. Not huge or disturbingly big, it still took a bit of effort where penetration was concerned. When he went in, you definitely felt him for sure. You gingerly sucked and licked him, not taking him in your throat until you felt ready to do so. 

“Look at him,” Seonghwa told you, and you knew who he meant. “Look over at him while you suck me off.” You glanced over at Hongjoong, who’d started stroking himself under his pants. You wanted so badly to walk over and pleasure him yourself. But, you knew he wouldn’t want that. “You know how much he likes watching you be used like a little fuck doll. Give him something to watch.”

Seonghwa let out a low groan as you started sliding your mouth up and down on him. You felt the heat of Hongjoong’s eyes on your body; you felt them peeling away at you until he reached your core, where your dirtiest fantasies lay hidden. Opening your mouth, you stroked Seonghwa over your tongue so Hongjoong saw thin droplets of precum fall into your mouth. You enjoyed the salty taste, licking up from base to tip and spitting some onto it before sucking on it again. The arousal flared when Yunho took up the space next to you and grabbed your hand to wrap around his cock. After choking yourself on Seonghwa’s dick the way Hongjoong liked, you did the same to Yunho, who let out hoarse groans as you did it. Yunho never pressured or forced you to pick up speed; he liked letting it naturally play out between you both. Jerking Seonghwa at the same speed, strings of profanities and moans came while you took turns on each one. Soon, more drool leaked from the sides of your mouth, which you usually wiped away, but Hongjoong was watching. He liked you messy. 

San knelt behind you. You knew it was him by the warm hands starting to roam your sides. He reached around to your pussy where he started stroking you lightly. Your clitoris still felt sensitive from your first orgasm, yet you craved more. One hand spreading your lips apart, the other moistened your entrance with the cum left inside you. You gasped around Yunho’s length when you felt something hard pressed to your entrance. San swirled his tip around your sex a few times, moaning softly before sinking it an inch or two inside. You let go of Seonghwa and Yunho to lean forward onto another pillow, arching your back to slide more of him inside. A whole new wave of euphoria arrived the moment he filled you completely. You lifted your head to realize Hongjoong was not that far from you, possibly a few feet. His eyes went from your face to where your body met San’s, and he stopped stroking himself. 

“How’s that, baby?” San asked, starting off with a steady speed. “Hm?”

“So…So good,” you whimpered, “Go faster. Please.”

He didn’t disappoint. San drove his hips into you faster, and you felt his cock reach further inside. Right as he got into a proper rhythm, another member took the space in front of you. Jongho, the youngest of them all, smirked down at you. He held his dick out in front of you, slowly rubbing it as he’d done this entire time. 

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, scooting closer to you and lifting your head upright. “I’ve been dying to fuck your mouth all night.” 

“Pl-please,” you said through gritted teeth as San held onto your hips and pulled you onto him. 

“Then open up.” 

He eased himself into your anticipating mouth. Jongho took no effort at all, and he always kept gentleness laced into the roughness. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself as far as he could, yet did not do so roughly. Your constant stream of whimpers and whines became stifled by the cock buried hilt deep in your mouth. Jongho’s precum added a new flavor to the mixture already there, and also left your cheeks and chin a mess. You could feel the other members around you, awaiting their turn while Hongjoong looked onwards. Even if you couldn’t see him, you knew he watched. Jongho occasionally released you so everyone heard your guttural, hoarse moans from San’s thrusting hips. 

“You look so pretty like this, Noona,” Jongho huffed, using that affectionate formality he knew sparked something inside you. “All dirty and horny while we use your…your holes,” he said, pushing himself back into your mouth. “I could do this all day.” 

“Me too…” 

Yeosang knelt beside Jongho, who withdrew his member to let Yeosang go next. Much like Jongho, you had no trouble sucking him deeply and firmly. Suddenly, you became surrounded. Two hands grabbed your breasts and pinched your nipples, while a third hand languidly stroked your clit. From the sounds around you, Seonghwa and Yunho played with your nipples and Wooyoung once again touched you further down. A sharp smack on your ass came from Mingi, who took hold off both cheeks and spread them as San charged inside you. In a few long strokes, San stopped completely and something dripped onto your ass hole. 

“Her ass is so nice,” Wooyoung moaned, no doubt looking on as Mingi rolled his thumb around your ass. “That’s another one I could eat all day if she let me…” 

Wooyoung’s oral fixation had no bounds, and you loved it. “Touch it,” you moaned, taking Yeosang out to say it, “Please. I love it when you play with my ass.”

They all laughed softly, and Mingi smacked your ass again. “Is that so?” Wooyoung’s hand left your clit for your ass, smoothing over one cheek before giving it a sharp slap. “If that’s true, then maybe I should eat your ass more often.”

“I bet she’d cum just from that alone,” Mingi said, bending to lick the hole which caused you to cry with Jongho in your mouth. “I’d love to try one day.” 

“She has,” Wooyoung told him. He joined in the teasing, spitting and swiping over it with Mingi. “She can be a real filthy slut when she wants to be.”

“The filthiest.” Hongjoong’s high voice reached you over the commotion, and you pushed yourself into San’s hips faster and harder. “She’s nothing but a dirty pervert who craves our dicks all day long.”

“Hyung!” Yeosang huffed with a laugh, even turning over to look at him. 

Jongho and him moved to look at Hongjoong, but he only had eyes for you.  That familiar glint of depraved lust winked at you, and you so badly wanted him to join. But, you knew he wouldn’t right away. Hongjoong managed his arousal way too well for your liking. The others could become almost feral when in the moment, but not Hongjoong. His cock stood up straight, laying on his stomach and twitching at the lightest ministrations but he did not give into that primal instinct inside him. Having him watching you this way brought you closer to the edge on San’s member, making you grunt in every push. 

“Isn’t that right, YN?” he asked, running his fingers up and down the underside of his engorged hardon. A trickle of precum wet his fingers, and you licked your lips. He laughed, “Answer me.”

“Yes!” you squeaked as a finger started rolling around the rim of your ass. Wooyoung spat between your cheeks again, and he spread it around. “Oh fuck, yes! Yes, yes, yes! I am a filthy slut! I am!”

Your answer satisfied him, and he continued touching himself. “Show me then,” he said, “Show me what a slut you can really be.”

You continued working on both Yeosang and Jongo, switching between them every so often to pleasure them both while Wooyoung’s fingers pushed right into the brim of your ass. Seonghwa then lifted you up as far as San’s dick allowed and spoke into your ear. 

“I want you to ride me,” he said, licking the edge of your ear to kiss your neck, “While your real owner watches you.” He rapidly began rubbing your sensitive clit, making you clench your thighs and squirm. “Because that’s what he is. We might date and fuck you, but you’re his. All his. I want him to see how good I fuck you when he’s not here to do it.”

San, having overheard the conversation being so close, added, “He loves watching us fuck you this way. He’s even asked me to fuck you in front of him before, you know.” He leaned close to your ear, “Be a good girl and ride Seonghwa for your owner.” 

Seonghwa laid down beside you and the others released you. Yet, right as he did this, a small blue packet landed on his chest. You all looked up to see Hongjoong holding a box of condoms. Beside it, you spotted a bottle of lubricant and a gray shoe box. You gulped at the sight of the box. You knew what was inside, and it excited you. But knowing them, they won't pull those out right away. 

"We have these for a reason," he said, putting the condoms on the couch where they could easily grab it. "Please use them."

Seonghwa smirked at him, and tore open the condom wrapper. Once he slid it over his cock, you straddled him. On sore knees, you sunk yourself onto him right away. Leaning forward, you kept your back arched as more hands rubbed over your body. Yeosang and Jongho took turns stimulating your clit as you started gradually rocking on Seonghwa’s dick, causing you to fall deeper into a whirl of pleasure. This new angle had his cock pressing into your g-spot again, and their hands only pushed it along. Wooyoung left your ass for your mouth, which you opened gladly to let him in. Seonghwa, with a perfect view of Wooyoung abusing your throat, moaned in utter satisfaction and pushed his hips into yours. It was the wet tongue and fingers on your ass that excited you immensely. San, most likely lying fully on his stomach in between Seonghwa’s legs, had pulled your buttocks apart to lap at your hole. Your muscles tensed once more as Seonghwa angled his body to bury deep inside you; the arms holding you up started trembling and you knew you’d give out right away. 

“Lay down, baby,” Wooyoung said, kneeling down over Seonghwa’s head and bringing you at level with him, “That’s it…just relax and-Ah, fuck, hyung!”

“You shouldn’t have brought them so close to me,” Seonghwa chortled, and you saw his tongue flick over Wooyoung’s balls. He hummed around one and the vibration made Wooyoung wriggle over him. “Such a sensitive boy; just like our sweet YN.”

And so you both went to work on Wooyoung. The slim, dark-haired man whimpered and moaned at the two mouths pleasuring him. Your second climax finally arrived when Mingi’s fingers slipped into your ass without warning. The mixture of all the different sensations had you tearing up and shaking uncontrollably. Wooyoung’s cock sunk deep into your throat, just so he could feel you moaning around him. 

“That’s it…Just like that,” Seonghwa moaned from underneath, “Cum all over my cock. I love feeling your pussy get tighter around..me…” 

“Be nice and loud for Joong-hyung,” Mingi groaned in your ear, keeping his fingering careful and slow. “He loves hearing you cum like that. Yeah, just like that.” 

He cooed at you when your orgasm strengthened and you grew louder. You finally stopped, shaking and quivering, as it came down. Every muscle in your body felt weak, but the burning desire to keep going overpowered the physical tiredness. It was everything you pictured it to be. All the nasty, self-disrespecting actions you always pictured yourself doing even despite your self-respect were coming true. The best part of it was Hongjoong’s approval of the treatment. 

“Come here, angel.” Mingi grabbed a condom from the box next, and laid down next to Seonghwa. “Turn around for me,” he said and you did as told. 

You expected him to slide himself into your pussy, but instead, he pushed his tip to your lubed ass hole. When you gasped, he paused, “I need you to relax, okay? Take a deep breath for me.” When you nodded and tried calming down, he said, “Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, “I’m going to fuck you in your ass now. You can go at any pace you want; don’t feel you have to go too fast or too hard. Fuck…yes, like that. Take it nice and easy, angel.”

He grunted when you gingerly sank halfway down on him. “Mingi-ah,” Hongjoong said, “Here.”

He passed Mingi the lubricant from the couch. Cold and sticky, Mingi poured a bit onto his length and then on you. While it made your ride easier, nothing compared to the stretch and full feeling it created. Anal always left a lasting impression, especially since it made you feel particularly stuck on him. Yeosang knelt down in front of you, giving soft kisses to your shoulder and collarbone. 

“You’re doing such a great job, darling,” he praised, kissing the base of your neck. “I know you’re getting tired, but you only need to go a little longer, okay?” He massaged your bottom tenderly, pecking your lips and kissing you softly. You watched him take up the lube and squirt some onto his fingers. “Want me to finger you?” he asked, tracing cold digits across your heat, “While Mingi fills your ass? I know you love having more than one.”

“Yes,” you whined, sinking fully onto Mingi before slowly coming back up. “Please.”

Yeosang sunk two fingers into you, and you moaned loudly. He let you grind and brush into his palm each time you went down; he sometimes picked up the pace if he thought you’d grown too quiet. Out of habit, you grabbed his boner to stroke slowly. The addition of lube he poured on the tip had Yeosang softly panting in your ear. You’d been lost in the feeling of the two men pleasuring you that you didn’t notice Yunho coming up beside you with something small and pink in his hand. 

“I think I know exactly what our pretty girl needs,” he said, voice full of mischief. “Just keep riding Mingi while we do the work for you.”

You looked at him to see a body wand in his hand. Your pussy instinctively clenched Yeosang’s fingers, and he pushed them further inside to wriggle the tips close to your g-spot. The gentle vibrating coming from the wand made you nearly dizzy from stimulation, creating squeals and high pitched cries whenever it rolled directly onto you. Yeosang removed his fingers so Yunho could place the head of the toy right over your entrance. You started bouncing on Mingi faster, the vibrations causing sharp tickling sensations that matched the feeling from behind. Yunho did not move away; he followed your hips wherever they went, even wiggling the wand from side to side. The members watched in awe as Mingi held you in place and started pushing into you. 

“Yun…Ho…” you cried, tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation. “Yunho, it tingles!” 

“I know, baby,” he smiled, “Hongjoong-hyung gave it to me for us to play with. Tell him how happy you are that he got it for you. Go on.”

“I’m ss-s-s-so ha-happy! Ah-” 

Yeosang put his fingers back inside when you leaned back and Yunho tapped your clit with the wand. Your third climax hit you harder than the first two. Your body turned stiff, your head cocked to one side and eyes squeezed shut tightly. Yeosang waited until you’d fully stopped to slide his fingers between your parted lips. Sucking them eagerly, you let out several shaky breaths and did your best to stay up straight. 

“You okay?” Yunho asked, tucking hair behind your ear. “Do you want to take a break?” When you shook your head, he said, “You don’t have to take all of us right now if you can’t. We won’t be upset. You’ve done so much already, baby.” 

You turned your head to look at him, starting to ride Mingi again, “I want to keep going. I love it too much to stop now.” 

He smiled and kissed you, “If you ever want to stop or have a break, you know the word to use, right?��

You nodded. 

“What is it?” Yeosang asked, kissing down your chest. 

“Buttercup…”

“That’s right. Good girl. Lay down on the couch for us,” Yeosang said, “Get comfortable.”

Yunho helped you over to the couch, where you rested against Yeosang in front of a large pillow and sunk into his comforting arms. Yunho lifted your ankles to his shoulders, and rolled on a condom before handing one to Yeosang. He waited until you settled down to sink inside you. Yeosang then pushed his own cock into your ass, since now Mingi stretched it enough that the pain did not burn so hotly. Both men worked you gently, watching you melt between them as more pleasure pulsed through you. Seonghwa came back up to the side of the couch, body wand in hand, and rolled the vibrating head over your nipple. The tickling feeling surged down in your loins where Yunho and Yeosang slowly pushed in and out of you. Jongho came beside the lower half where his fingers lightly ran over the lips of your pussy, making you squirm and tremble. Your walls clutched Yunho tightly, and this made him thrust deeper and faster. 

“Are you going to come already?” Yunho panted, holding onto the backs of your knees as he moved. “Is your pussy that sensitive?” 

“Ye-yes,” you nodded, huffing and puffing from exhaustion as the men used you. “It feels so…good…” you kept your eyes closed as they all worked on you. “Don’t stop no-now…I’ve wanted this for such a long-long time.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang asked, grabbing your breasts and holding them for Seonghwa’s toy to tease them more accurately. “Maybe Hongjoong is right. You are a dirty slut. Is this what you were thinking about when I caught you using your toys in the bathtub? You remember that, don’t you?”

You did. Vividly. You recalled Yeosang walking in by accident, seeing you sitting on the edge of the tub and holding a vibrator to your cunt. He’d joined you right away, fondling and kissing you while sliding the toy in and out. “Yes,” you moaned, “But I still liked it when it was just you.”

“So sweet,” Yeosang awed, thrusting up in time with Yunho now so they filled you together. “Go ahead and cum again for us. You can do it, baby. We know you can.”

A fourth orgasm erupted in a scream. Yunho and Yeosang kept the same pace, but Seonghwa and Jongho focused their efforts on your clit. Seonghwa pushed the toy down while Jongho held the lips apart. Sharp pain and pleasure mingled inside and you quaked in their embrace. They hardly gave you time to relax as Yunho and Yeosang withdrew before Jongho got his hands on you. Laying you on your side on the floor, he lifted one thigh above the other and slipped himself inside you immediately. It was then you noticed the box. A small gray shoebox with a designer label on the side. Hongjoong didn’t only bring the body wand. He brought the whole box. Jongho started pounding you right away, moaning your name and squeezing your tits while you stared at the box at Hongjoong’s feet. He gave you his devilish smirk and nodded to the toy box. 

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jongho asked, bending over to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You feel so good and I’m so fucking turned on by you.”

“Don’t stop,” you muttered, pushing into him and keeping his hands on your chest. The remains of your last orgasm, and the pure adrenaline coursing in your body kept you going at this point. “I want you to keep going. Please?”

Jongho, always needing reassurance you wanted him, started rocking himself deeply inside you. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you,” he admitted to you, kissing up your neck, “It’s why I like fucking you in my room when Yeosang and Wooyoung are there. I like watching you take more than one cock at a time.”

“Jongho,” you giggled, pushing back into him, “You naughty boy.”

“You make me naughty,” he smirked, pushing deep inside and staying there. “But,” he pinched your nipple gently, “There’s someone here who likes watching you more than me.” He kissed your cheek, and then said loudly, “Hm, I wonder what I should do with our girl next? Hongjoong-hyung?” 

“Spread her legs open,” Hongjoong suggested, leaning back in his chair and looking on. “So we can see what her pussy looks like being abused by your dick.” 

Jongho laughed, then lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder. Fully spread apart, Hongjoong was given a clear view of your soaked, sore pussy being stretched once more. Mingi pulled the gray box towards him, and rifled around before finding the bullet vibrator. A baby blue toy the size of an egg was then pressed to you and Jongho met from behind you. Both of you felt the light vibrations that made Jongho more desperate for release. While you cried and pleaded, Wooyoung came to level with your head and pushed himself into your open mouth. You did your best to suck him, but Jongho’s dick pushing to your core once more with Mingi’s toy buzzing around your sex, it became difficult. 

“She can’t even suck my dick properly,” Wooyoung laughed, not upset or disappointed but amused. “Such a dumb little doll. Let me help you, baby.” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer as he started sliding himself in and out of your mouth. Diving deep into your throat, you sputtered as a moan tried escaping you but was blocked off. “She’s loving this,” Mingi smirked, “I think we should do this more often just for her. I know she’d love that.” 

“We don’t want to work her too hard though,” said Jongho, who pecked kisses along your leg and ankle. “It might hurt her a lot.” 

“Nah, it’s healthy for cock hungry sluts to be gangbanged once in a while,” said Hongjoong. “They need to be fucked into oblivion so they remember what they’re good for.” He held back a moan as he said, “She needs to remember she’s just our little cum dump from time to time.” 

Some members stifled laughter at his bold, cruel words but you only whined. Yes. Yes, that’s what you were: a toy for the members to release their frustration on. Companions do so much more for idols and idol groups, but sex is usually involved. You didn’t mind. You’d known this from the beginning; you lucked out having loving partners, since not all Idol Companions have such good experiences. You showed that side of you to them right now by submitting to their whims and pleasures. 

Mingi put the toy right underneath the nub, and with a few more pumps from Jongho, you clamed up again. Another orgasm came so quick and hard, not even Wooyoung’s member stifled it this time. All the members cheered you on, encouraging you to cum one more time or spread yourself further to let Jongho go deeper. Hazy and dizzy, you collapsed onto the floor. You might as well be a pool of jelly. Your holes ached, your jaw burned, and you thought you’d pass out any moment. But, you had more to do. You hadn’t gotten the thing you wanted the most. The boys put you back on the couch, letting you sink back into comfort as Wooyoung grabbed an anal plug Mingi handed to him. Both men prepared you for the small pink plug before sliding it inside. Being on your back, the toy would be pushed in and out of you as Wooyoung sucked up the juices smeared on your thighs and leaked from your entrance. His warm tongue soothed but also pinched your clit whenever he touched on it. 

“Wooyoung just fuck her already,” said San, joining in by flicking your clit with his tongue. “I’ll take care of this right here.” 

“But I like eating her when she’s been fucked a few times,” he replied, licking up your thighs. “She’s so sensitive and responsive afterwards. I love hearing her mewling and whimpering like this.” He quickly rolled his tongue around your clit so you made those exact noises. San hurriedly joined in and both men eagerly ate you out. “Do you like that, YN?” asked Wooyoung, sucking on your clit and forcing the plug deep in your ass. “Hm, do you?”

You let out a stream of incoherent sentences, and they laughed. “Silly baby,” San awed, pouting and kissing your clit, “So fucked out she can’t even form a sentence.” 

“Been fucked stupid,” Wooyoung smirked, “Exactly how I want her when I put my dick in her.” 

Tears spilled from your eyes as both men took advantage of your weakened state. Wooyoung sat up right, condom already rolled on, and sunk himself into your aching, throbbing, burning hole. You could hardly see straight, the room becoming blurry in your glazed tears, and your body became numb to everything except the pleasure Wooyoung and San provided. It didn’t take very long for Wooyoung’s soft panting to turn into high moans, eyes full of need and desire as your pussy pulled him into you. 

“Please cum, Wooyoungie,” you mumbled, reaching out to his chest and torso so he felt your hands on him. “I want you to cum all over me.” 

“Say that again,” he moaned hurriedly, picking up speed, “Say that again.” 

“I want you to cum all over me. Please, Wooyoung. Please?” 

“Yes, yes, baby. I…I…”

He withdrew right away, tearing the condom off, and you looked down to see his glistening cock twitching as he stroked it. Thick droplets of white fell onto your lower stomach before shooting up to your chest, where the musky scent and sticky heat started to cover you. You admired Wooyoung’s lithe, slim body; his tanned skin beaded with sweat and black strands sticking to his temples and forehead. His lean muscles constricted, and his soft lips parted in every groan. He finally stopped with a few more pumps before San took his place. Lifting your legs up, he slipped on his own condom,  and started fucking you right away. 

“You just lay there, baby,” he said, “Be a good toy and let me use your pussy.”

“Yes, Sannie. Use my pussy to cum, please,” you panted. 

“Do you want me to cum on you too or somewhere else?” he asked, bottoming up into you carefully. 

“On me. Please. All over me. I want it all over.” 

“Of course you do…” Hongjoong walked up beside you, crouching down to where your head laid and kissed your temple. “Any self-respecting slut loves being cummed on,” he leaned into your ear and traced light circles over your nipples. A faint, fresh scent came off his clothes and skin; he’d showered before the movie and it still clung to him. It added another layer of comfort and relaxation. “And being cummed in too,” he groaned in your ear before kissing it, “Just wait until it’s only you and me. I’m going to breed that pussy the way it’s meant to be. I’m going to breed you nice and hard and deep,” he gave your nipple a pinch, “And you’re going to take every drop and keep it in you.”

“Hongjoong, but…”

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he assured you. “I only want to see how pretty you look with my cum dripping from your holes. You’re already so beautiful covered in cum.” 

“She always looks so-s-so good,” San huffed. 

Like Wooyoung, he pulled out right when he orgasmed. San tilted his head back, jerking quickly so thin streamers fell over your stomach and breasts. Hongjoong and you looked on together, watching San pump himself until he’d been completely spent. Mingi, the one who started this whole thing, went afterwards. He didn’t waste time with seductive words or praises. He pushed right into you, and didn’t stop until he was a sweaty, panting mess jerking over you. His streams mainly landed on your breasts, clearly where he’d hoped to aim. Hongjoong, wiping up a clear strip of cum, put it to your lips to taste it. 

“I wonder who will shoot into this slutty mouth,” Hongjoong said out loud, letting you suck more from his fingers. “They know how much you like to swallow their loads after they’ve fucked you.”

“Oh, I am,” Yeosang took his place beside you and pushed hair from your face. Hongjoong sat on the couch arm rest, still admiring your filthy, naked body like a work of art. “I want my sweet girl to drink every little drop I give her. Will you do that for me?” 

“Yes,” you said weakly. 

You stuck out your tongue as Yeosang rubbed his tip over it. You had no energy to properly suck or jerk him off, but you gave soft, kitten licks to the head until he started shaking in front of you. He called out in a loud cry like his orgasm imploded inside him. Streaks of cum flew into your mouth and on your cheek, but you quickly caught them by latching your mouth to the tip. Hongjoong kept your hair out of the way, and encouraged you to open up so Yeosang saw you’d swallowed all of it. 

“Good girl,” Yeosang rewarded you with a kiss, “Hongjoong better give you an extra special treat for behaving so well.”

“I will,” Hongjoong said fondly, as if doting on a child. 

Seonghwa stood a foot away, looking over your body as if he’d never seen anything as lovely before. “You know how much I love your mouth too,” he told you, already at the cusp of his orgasm, “Open it for me, baby. Just like that.” 

It didn’t take him much longer. What caught you off guard was Jongho, who’d taken Mingi’s place between your thighs. Both men came rather quickly, since they worked themselves up beforehand. Seonghwa slid himself in and out of your mouth while Jongho pounded you hard. Sucking Seonghwa off felt like eating a candy with a gooey center; it dribbled onto your tongue rather than outright shot into it. Seonghwa and Jongho both picked up their pace: Seonghwa’s cum leaked into your mouth even as his orgasm erupted through him; Jongho’s mainly trickled down over your pubic mound and the crevasses of your thighs. You swallowed the oozing cum, making sure Seonghwa saw you eagerly licking him clean before he withdrew. 

“Look at you,” Yunho smiled, taking Jongho’s place, “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen covered in a bunch of cum.”

“Isn’t she a pretty sight?”

“The prettiest.”

Yunho sunk deep into your leaking pussy, and gave into those primal urges inside. His nails dug into your hips, and his balls slammed into your ass as he used your body. The momentum caused the plug inside you to move around, and you almost came again from it. Hongjoong leaned down to your ear, and gave it a soft nibble. 

“Just one more, baby,” he said, “Then we’ll clean you up and I can breed you.”

The thought of being bred by Hongjoong excited you so much. Yunho’s cock pushed right into your center, and you started moaning. “I want you to, sir,” you whimpered into his ear. “I want you to breed me.” You’re not an idiot. You’re sleeping with several different men and you’re still young. You obviously take birth control, and they use protection to avoid pregnancies or diseases. But, the idea of Hongjoong’s bare cock pumping you full of his seed made you horny again. 

“Of course, you do,” he said. “You’re a fuck doll that loves being cummed in as much as possible. It only makes sense I empty my balls inside you the way a good owner would, right?” 

“Yes…”

“Fuck, hyung,” Yunho laughed in between moans, head back and pushing feverishly. “You’re terrible.”

“And she loves it.” 

Yunho soon removed his condom to spill his own seed like the others. It created a pool between your breasts and stomach, the thicker strands sliding down your sides and some remaining on your chest and chin. Yunho, his long, broad body hovering over you, only stopped when the last clear drop fell on your stomach. You took a glance around the room to see the others slumped on the couch; their bodies clearly worn out from giving the best thing they ever could. The only one fully alert was Hongjoong, who chuckled and kissed your forehead. Yunho pulled out of you, and so did the plug. He muttered something about cleaning up later, but you hardly heard him. 

Elation. Delight. Satisfaction. Only a few of the words to describe the feelings rolling inside you. A lopsided grin graced your face as you let your body melt into the couch where you laid. You wished to bask in the weightless after glow forever. It reminded you of the feeling after a long spa day, completely mellow. Hongjoong grabbed a wet towel he’d brought during his excursion for the toy box, and wiped most of the semen from your body. You loved his delicate, gentle touches; the care he always took when he looked after you. They all did aftercare in their own way, but it pretty much remained the same: baths or showers, snacks, water, and ice packs or lotions if needed. You heard about Companions who'd be left on the floor like garbage after rough sex. Your boys never did that to you. They loved you. Six years together proved as much to you. 

As the others started pulling on underwear or shorts, Yeosang brought you a water bottle that you gulped down in a few swallows. It’d do nothing for the taste left in your mouth, but it hydrated you. He mentioned something about tea for your throat, and kissed your forehead. Each man gave you a cheek or forehead kiss before leaving the room; Hongjoong and Seonghwa were the ones who brought you to the bathtub Seonghwa prepared for you. Hongjoong sat beside it as you slunk into the warm water. You deeply inhaled the lavender scented wafting from the bubbles, resting back on the bath pillow Yunho bought you. Hongjoong dipped a soft washcloth into the soapy water to wipe your face and neck, occasionally kissing you. Every muscle in your body turned into putty, barely having energy to remain up without Hongjoong’s help and effort on your part. Your center stung from being penetrated in so many ways, and your clit felt sore from the constant action. You’ll certainly need to go to the agency clinic now. But not yet. There was one member who hadn’t taken you, and he is the one you wanted the most. You noticed the erection still in Hongjoong’s pants, and you knew it’d be balls deep in you soon enough. 

“How do you do it?” you asked him quietly, looking up at him from your head rest. 

“‘Do’ what, baby?”

“Hold back like that,” you explained. “You’ll have a raging hardon, but don't do anything about it right away.”

“Practice,” he smiled, running the cloth between your thighs. Not in a sensual way, but to simply clean anything the water didn’t remove naturally. You winced at the soft cloth on your pussy, so Hongjoong went more carefully as he went further down. “I used to edge myself a lot when I was younger. I liked the feeling of holding back as much as I could before finally cumming. It makes that final orgasm so much better. Not to mention,” he casted a side eye glance at you, “There are certain people whose pleasure I care about more than mine. You know, people who mean so much to me and who I enjoy pleasuring first?”

“Seonghwa?” you said, a teasing smile on your face. 

“You, dummy,” he flicked some water at you and you both laughed. He peppered a few kisses on your lips, then said, “That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted to fuck you right here in this bathtub right now.”

“Then why don’t you?” you asked, hand reaching from the water to touch his knee. “I can take it. I promise.”

He smiled, taking your hand to wipe his cloth down your arm, “I know you can, but I know you’re tired too. I can wait, baby.” 

Hongjoong kissed the inner part of your wrist, then continued washing you. Hongjoong held you close as he dried you off in his lap, not caring if you wet his clothes, and brought you into your bedroom. After helping you into bed, Hongjoong undressed completely, exposing his body to you one piece at a time until he stood naked. Keeping on the lamp beside your bed, he slipped underneath the sheets with you and locked his lips with yours. You wrapped yourself around him and he slid his arms underneath your shoulders. Hongjoong let his hard shaft slide over your clit a few times, using his own precum to slicken your folds. When you flinched, he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses on your neck, “Do you still want me to do this? I can just rub it out myself if you’re too stimulated. I don’t want you to go through any pain for me.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted you to do it.” 

You reached into your bed side table where he’d left his flesh light the last time you slept together. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, pulling out a lube bottle from the opposite drawer and handing it to you. Sitting up despite your tiredness, you squirted a bit of lubricant onto his cock and coated it liberally. This motion alone had Hongjoong groaning and clutching your bed sheets. You really did love looking at his cock. The size and girth fit just right, never splitting or going too deep inside. You ran your fingers underneath the head, giggling when it twitched. Laying halfway on top of him, your thighs straddling one of his, you carefully sunk the fleshlight onto his cock. The groan of relief Hongjoong gave was enough to regenerate your arousal. His face scrunched up from pleasure, the pleasure he’d been withholding for a long time, was put permanently into your memory. When you looked down, you saw his dick filling the clear, silicone toy.  

“I love your cock so much,” you said in his ear, “I get wet thinking about the things you can do to me with it.” You slowly started grinding into his thigh, humping him in lazy motions while dragging the fleshlight up and down. “I kept thinking you’d fuck me in front of the others, so you can show them that I’m yours. Show them that my body is yours,” you kissed his jawline, “That my pussy is yours.”

He laughed. The same laugh he’d do before his verses in songs. A mischievous, mocking laugh almost, imprinted on the lustful moans he released. “I don’t have to fuck you in front of them for them to know that,” he said, pulling you close and grabbing one of your breasts. “They already know whenever they hear you cumming for me.” 

He slipped his other hand over your ass, giving a squeeze before feeling underneath it. The soft squelching sounds of the toy mixed with both your moans as you kissed. Hongjoong squeezed and fondled any part of you his hands could reach while you humped his leg gingerly. When you both became heated enough, Hongjoong pulled off the toy and rolled you onto your back. You prepared yourself for him to enter you by clutching the pillow under your head. Seeing you surrender yourself over to him, Hongjoong kissed you deeply while entering slowly inside you inch by inch. All the need and desire from the orgy came back, and soon Hongjoong’s growls and grunts filled your mouth. It didn’t take long for your lover to be quaking on top of you. A bit of thumb circles on your clit had you crying out his name again. Your hands slipped into his black hair as he kissed and bit down your neck, and across your collarbone; your hips pushed down into his simply to have more of him. You needed all of him. He sensed this from kissing you alone and bottomed up into you until you quivered in his arms. 

“That’s it,” he hissed, “Go ahead and cum just one more time. I want to hear it; go on.” 

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can, sweetie. Do it for me.”

The final orgasm came a bit fainter, but it still controlled you as it’d done the times before. You lost all sense as Hongjoong started going faster, causing your bed to hit the wall in light smacks. By the sloppy movements, and feral grunts, you knew he was close to finishing soon. 

“Cum inside me,” you said in a small, quiet voice. It was that innocent voice he loved hearing you do when he dominated you. “Please, Joongie. Cum in my pussy, please.”

“I will, baby. I…I will…fuck…”

Spreading your legs far out, Hongjoong lifted your lower half as he emptied himself inside you. In a series of long, drawn out groans, Hongjoong kept himself deep inside you as he came. You could feel his dick twitch against your walls, and coating them with his semen. The strokes he did were short and hurried so he could keep every drop deep inside you. You liked the feeling, you realized. Your hands dragged down his shoulders to his arms where you grabbed his forearms for support. Making Hongjoong cum this way, this hard, fed your pride well. He didn’t pull out right away when he finished either; he rarely ever did. You both laid on your sides, your leg over his hips to keep him inside you a bit longer. That final feeling of relaxation clouded over you instantly, and you finally gave into it. 

“Just go to sleep,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose and nuzzling it. “I’ll get the lights and clean you up.” He then chuckled, “That is, if Wooyoung doesn’t beat me to it.” 

“Huh?”

Hongjoong grabbed one of the squishmallows from the head board and tossed it at the door. You gasped at the sight of Wooyoung with his phone held up, who cackled and put the phone down. You laughed with him as embarrassment flushed your cheeks, and you buried your head in Hongjoong’s shoulder. 

“Out!”

“I just came to get my charger,” Wooyoung laughed in his defense, “I gave it to YN-”

“-Use someone else’s charger!” he scolded, breaking from you to launch another stuffed animal. 

Wooyoung continued laughing, wishing you goodnight and closing the door. You both heard his laughter as he walked down the hall, and you cuddled back to Hongjoong. 

“How many videos does that make?” you asked in a joke. “A dozen?”

“More like a hundred,” Hongjoong replied, bringing you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “He takes photos of you too when you’re not looking. I remember catching him filming you showering a few years ago; when you first moved into the dorm instead of living in the company residency.” He rubbed your back soothingly, and kissed you again. “I’ll get him to delete them, if it bothers you.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said, shutting your eyes and basking in his warmth. You felt a prominent stickiness between your thighs, and knew it’d bother the hell out of you. But, you felt too tired to really do anything about it. “You have videos of me too.”

“Yeah, I do,” he grinned, flashing you his cheeky smile before kissing you once more. “Let me clean you up, then I’ll shut off the lights. Seonghwa will make you some tea for your throat.”

“Okay,” you yawned, stretching your sore body and drifting to sleep. 

The last thing you remember is Hongjoong reaching for an ice pack you keep in a miniature fridge near the bed, feeling content and gratified. A part of you hoped they did it again, even if it did make you insanely exhausted and left you aching. You guessed you’d have to go to your appointment soon. ‘Bodily trauma’. Who would’ve guessed that? 

[raven-cincaide]

Post Canon! Yuuji wants to be a university student. He says that after all the war and loss he needs to catch up on rest and just be human- like the rest of them. He blames Nobara’s insatiable nagging about ‘finally being around people with taste’ and excuses it by saying that Megumi needs to find someone to love- whether the brooding guy wants it or not. However, in truth he misses the carefree school life. And he knows they all need a break from curses. So, after a lot of nagging from his side, the trio sent in their uni applications minutes before the deadline. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is dead set on living his best life in the coming three years. To study “something” while attending every book and nerd club with Megumi, every frat party and adventure with Nobara, and hell, maybe show off some of his god-given sports skills he shunned in high school. After all, girls still dug that sort of thing even at uni- the entire ‘jocks’ and ‘athletes’ persona, right?! 

Post Canon! Yuuji is determined to experience everything being a ‘normal guy’ could get him. He intends to make new friends, be social, live life and get laid as much as possible. Be single and date until he is sick of romance. But most importantly, he wants these three years to be about him, his wants, his needs, and to be a bit goddamn selfish for once. 

At least, that is the plan he declares to his friends as they step onto campus, Nobara and Megumi rolling their eyes at him before heading to get their schedules. While Post Canon! Yuuji headed straight to the housing office because he’d rather be Sukuna’s vessel again than drive two hours daily from campus to the Jujutsu dorms. 

Post Canon! Yuuji sees you, the administrative assistant so far from his usual type, and instantly knows his plans go straight out the window. He shuffles closer to you and the large desk you’re seated at, mouth dry and hands shaking like a teenager as he places his papers and ID on the table before you. He greets you with a shaky smile he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace. “H-Hi! I’m here for house- housing!” God, he sounds like such a noob. 

Post Canon! Yuuji can’t help the genuine grin that splits his face as you flash him a look that so clearly reads ‘obviousely’ before typing away at the computer. The way you act instantly reminds him of Megumi and Nobara, and he feels more at ease around you. 

Then, addressing him like an idiot feels familiar and almost like coming home: “Here is your copy of the contract and the key. You’re in the main dorms, in a single room on the second floor. recycling at the entrance, and the kitchen at the end of the same hall.” You explain, pointing out the location of his room on a map and then the location of the kitchen as if he was so helpless he wouldn’t be able to find it without your guidance.

 “Anything else?” You ask yet it sounds more like a common phrase you utter, expecting a ‘no’ and turning back to your computer to prepare for the next poor sod with a task a glorified monkey could do

But Post Canon! Yuuji isn’t ready to let you go. He wants more of your attention, so he says the first thing on his mind; ”Aww, man, a dorm room? Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m certain I booked a flat!-” Yuji rushes to put on his biggest puppy dog eyes- the kind Nobara says makes him look like a wet dog- “Can you check again? Please? Me and my friends are not from around here, and If I’ve fucked up on housing- man they’ll kill me–” Yuuji rushes out a full-on water-works story, he’s even impressed with himself, maybe he should take up theatre.

Or not, but hey at least it keeps your attention on him.

Post Canon! Yuuji drinks in you and studies every feature of you. From the dark daggers you glare at him, then to the way your eyes grow mild with pity, to how you bite your lips in thought until he’s sure he’ll recognise you anywhere, just by your looks or voice alone.

“I’m sorry, you booked a dorm room, and no flats are available at the moment” you put on that fake work-voice that instantly makes Yuuji’s face fall. He likes your real voice- mean tone and all- a lot better. 

Post Canon! Yuuji looks like a kicked puppy as he slowly gathers his stuff from your desk. He barely registers the look of surprise on your face, as if you expected him to talk back to you or pester you instead of politely accepting your words the way he does. But he notes how your expression shifts into hesitation and finally determination. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is about to leave when you clear your throat to get his attention. Then, you lean over the desk separating, you two. “You know..” your voice is quiet, clearly not wanting the gathering students in the lobby to hear you, “Not all the apartment keys are gathered yet so there could still come in a cancellation in the next few days... you’re welcome by to check-” 

Post Canon! Yuuji grins widely- the widest he has grinned in many years. “I’ll be here tomorrow!” he declares before being forced to leave your small office as your boss draws your attention away. But Yuuji swears to himself he will be there tomorrow, the day after, and the next day after. As long as it means he can talk to you, if only for a little bit. 

But first,Post Canon! Yuuji needs to figure out what to do if he actually gets a flat through you. Could he bribe Nobara and Megumi to share the costs with him? Maybe post a ‘room for rent’ ad?

Ohh, well, Post Canon! Yuuji decides, with a skip in his step, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. After all, he reasons, you have to do some insane things for love, right?! 

Author note: Thank you so so much, @ravester, for asking for a Yuuji-centric post canon hcs I hope this meets your expectations <3

And for the rest of the wonderful readers, what do you think? We have a Megumi one and a Yuuji one, do we need a Nobara one as well?

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[drei-mrssvechii]

cookie time! | andrei svechnikov

join my taglist!

pairing: dad!andrei svechnikov x reader

warnings: mentions of andrei's injury, the canes doing not so well, kids.

word count: 690 words

a/n: ok so i wrote this around last year when svech got injured for playoffs and i'm just posting it now lololol. but anyway! i felt like this was such a cute concept and needed to write it, so here it is! hope you enjoy it, i'm always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.

“how much time till you can return to skating, dada?” your little girl, sofiya, asked as andrei tucked her into bed.

“that’s quite a long time, sunshine,” he replied. she pouted; there was nothing she loved more than going to games and supporting her daddy in her little svech jersey.

though andrei’s injury kept him off the ice, there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him from visiting the rink, and sofiya would gladly follow him everywhere—she was such a daddy’s girl, after all.

so you’d still attend some games, but ever since svech was out, losing had become a constant, and frustration was clearly building within the team. especially for andrei, who couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being able to play.

the mood wasn’t the best, but when it came to sofiya, he would always put on a smile. it wasn’t often that they got to spend so much time together, so she loved having him home to attend her tea parties, tuck her into bed, and take her to school. as much as she adored it, though, she knew her dad missed being on the ice, and sofiya didn’t like seeing him hurt and sad. so one morning, just as she heard andrei leaving for therapy, she went downstairs with what she thought was the perfect plan to cheer him up.

you were in the kitchen, tidying up from breakfast. it was still early, so you planned to get a bit more sleep, assuming your little girl wouldn’t be up until later—or so you thought, until you heard her quick footsteps on the stairs.

“morning, love. what are you doing up so early?” you asked, watching as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a stool to stand next to you.

“can we make chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

“cookies? it’s too early for those, baby,” you said, though knowing chocolate chip cookies were her all-time favorite.

“i know, mom, but cookies make me happy. i bet they’ll make dada happy, too!” she said, explaining her plan with such conviction that you couldn’t help but smile.

it was so sweet how she was thinking of ways to cheer up her dad. so, you quickly gave in, gathered all the ingredients, and handed her a small apron.

she started by cracking the eggs (with a tiny bit of shell making it into the bowl), then you helped her measure the flour, and sofiya poured in what seemed like way too many chocolate chips. the kitchen turned into a delightful mess: flour dusted the counters, little chocolate fingerprints decorated the cabinets, and sofiya sneaked a few chocolate chips every chance she got.

“daddy’s gonna love this!” she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

but just as the first batch of cookies went into the oven, you heard the door open earlier than expected, and sofiya’s face fell.

“oh no, mom! he’s here too soon. it’s all ruined,” she muttered, disappointed.

andrei stepped into the kitchen, chuckling as he took in the scene—flour everywhere, cookie dough on the counters, and sofiya’s pouty face.

“sunshine, what’s all this?” he asked, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

“i wanted to surprise you,” she murmured. “make you happy like you make me happy.”

his face brightened, and he pulled her into a warm hug. “well, you sure did, kiddo. this is the best surprise i could ask for.”

sofiya smiled brightly, inviting him to join her. together, the three of you continued baking. as andrei helped sofiya clean up the counters, you caught his eye, sharing a warm smile. moments like these were rare but so precious.

as the cookies finished baking, andrei had an idea. “hey, sweetheart, how about we take these cookies to practice and share them with the team?”

sofiya’s eyes lit up in excitement. “yes! they’ll be so happy. i miss uncle jarvy,” she said with a little pout.

“he sure misses you too, baby.”

and with a plate of freshly baked cookies in hand, the three of you headed to the rink, just as morning skate wrapped up.

-

taglist: @sydnikov @cammie1634 @honeygarfield @svechnikov3737 @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @barzyandhughesbaby @tinyhockey @boeswhore @owenpowerstapejob @kailyn-writes @stars-canucks @ssebastianaho @beauvertime @barzyblogbabe @hockey-racing-fubol @1-800-iluvhockey | join here!

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[imthesilentwriter]

A Mother Knows

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: Over the course of the summer before sixth year, Lily notices certain interactions between you and Harry that seem more than friendly. Her suspicions are confirmed when she witnesses a special moment between the two of you.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of kissing, (I'm not sure what else :) )

Authors Note: Wow, it's been a minute! I've entered the most dreaded time... final exams... I have my first (of 6) exam's tomorrow. Which, to be fair, is absolutely terrifying. To be honest, I don't think I could handle any more studying, so, I've decided to try and write more oneshots, to... y'know clear the mind. I hope you do enjoy this oneshot!... even if it's being posted like, almost 2 weeks after the last one. Thank you! Enjoy!!

Word Count: 7720

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The platform is bustling with noise and movement – students waving goodbye to friends, trunks being hauled off the train, owls hooting from their cages. Steam rises from the scarlet red engine, swirling in the air like mist, while parents eagerly scan the crowd for their children.

“Are we still going to the Cannons’ match in July?” James asks, a grin spreading across his face. “I got us box seats, you know.”

Sirius snorts. “The Cannons? You’re making us watch them? Merlin, James, I thought we had better taste.”

Remus chuckles, shaking his head. “I think James just wants a front-row seat to the chaos. And maybe to see if they can manage to win one match this season.”

James laughs, nudging Sirius in the ribs. “What’s wrong, Padfoot? Scared they’ll finally surprise us?”

“I’d be more surprised if they made it through the match without knocking themselves out,” Sirius shoots back with a grin. “But sure, I’ll come. Someone’s got to keep you both entertained.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “I think we’re going to need more than just your snide comments to make that game exciting.”

Lily, half-listening to their banter, scans the platform, her eyes darting through the crowd in search of her son. Finally, she spots him – Harry, stepping off the train with you by his side. There’s something different about them this time, though.

You both are standing impossibly close to one another, not leaving much room between the two of you. She can’t help but notice Harry’s gaze on you as you mouth words towards him. It’s soft, tender in a way she hadn’t seen before.

Remus raised an eyebrow and said, "I think we’re going to need more than just your snide comments to make that game exciting."

Sirius, feigning offense, replied, "Oi, my snide comments are the excitement. Admit it, you’d miss them."

James grinned and added, "Yeah, sure, Padfoot. Though I’m more excited about Harry showing off some new moves this summer. The kid’s going to be unstoppable."

When she turns her gaze back towards you and Harry, she sees him reaching for your luggage, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. You smile at him – that smile, the kind of smile that carries a meaning Lily can’t quite place, but it tugs at her heart, nonetheless.

Lily watches as Harry goes to pick up your shoulder bag, his hand brushing against yours, lingering just a second longer than necessary. You say something to him, and her laughs, the sound warm and genuine.

The way he looks at you – like you’re the only person on the platform – makes Lily’s chest tighten. There’s a gentleness in his movements, a protective instinct as he adjusts the strap on your bag and slings in over his own shoulder.

You don’t protest; instead, you smile at him in that familiar way, as if this has become routine, comfortable. Lily’s heart stirs with a mix of pride and something bittersweet as she realises just how much her son has grown – and how much he seems to care for you.

Sirius proudly declared, "I’m sure my daughter could give him a run for his money."

James chuckled and responded, "She already does, mate. But where are they? It shouldn’t take this long to get off the train."

Remus looked around, scanning the crowd, and said, "They’re probably taking their sweet time saying goodbye to everyone. You know how kids are – social butterflies."

Sirius frowned and asked, "It’s been ages, though. Lily, do you see them?"

Lily, absentmindedly still watching the crowd, replied, "They’re… just over there. By the luggage cart."

James raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Luggage cart? Still? What are they doing, planning an entire heist?"

Remus teased, "Maybe they’ve formed a secret alliance to avoid carrying their own bags."

Sirius then spotted them and grinned widely, exclaiming, "Ah, there they are! Oi, Harry! Kiddo! Get over here!"

James laughed and joined in, saying, "Yeah, before Sirius has a heart attack from waiting!"

Lily notices your startled expression at the sudden yelling, your eyes widening for just a moment before you regain your composure. Harry, on the other hand, takes it in stride, flashing that familiar, sheepish grin.

“Alright, alright! We’re coming!” Harry yells back, a hint of laughter in his voice as he glances at you. You roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with your elbow before both of you make your way over to the group.

Lily watches closely, her eyes catching the small, almost imperceptible details – the way Harry’s gaze lingers on you for just a second too long, the subtle closeness between your shoulders as you walk side by side. It’s as if you’re unconsciously drawn to each other, and though the others remain blissfully unaware, Lily sees it all.

Sirius grinned and exclaimed, "Finally! What took you two so long? Were you writing love letters on the platform?"

Remus chuckled and added, "or planning your escape from carrying all that luggage?"

James, with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face, remarked, "must’ve been deep in conversation about strategy for our Quidditch games."

Harry just laughed, shaking his head, while you offered a nonchalant shrug, trying to play along.

Harry grinned and replied, "yeah, something like that."

Lily teased, "well, next time, try not to keep us waiting too long. I’m sure Sirius was about to launch a full search party."

Sirius feigned indignation as he said, "I was not! I just-" He trailed off, catching himself and then admitted, "Okay, maybe a little."

Lily smiles softly, the warmth of the moment sinking in. The banter continues around her, light and full of laughter, but her thoughts are elsewhere – on her son and the quiet shift in his life.

The smell of roast chicken and fresh bread fills the Potter dining room as the family gathers around the large oak table. James is animated, waving his fork as he talks, recounting a tale of his latest mission at the Auror Office. Sirius is laughing along, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face, while Remus sips his wine, smiling at his friends' antics.

You sit across from Harry, quietly listening, but your eyes occasionally flick to his. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but Lily, from her seat at the head of the table, catches every lingering glance.

She watches as Harry, in between biting into his bread, keeps looking at you with a soft, almost tender expression that she hasn't quite seen before. There’s something unspoken between you, something that speaks louder than words.

"-so, we were staking out Knockturn Alley," James says, his fork poised midair, "and you wouldn’t believe it, this bloke just waltzes right past us, like he didn’t even notice we were there!"

"Probably didn’t," Sirius snickers. "You’ve got no subtlety, mate."

James scoffs, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "Oi, I’m subtle when I need to be!"

Everyone laughs, but Lily is distracted. She notices the way Harry’s eyes find you again, his gaze soft, lingering just a second longer than it should.

You meet his eyes, and there’s that flash of recognition, a smile tugging at your lips before you quickly look away, focusing on your plate. You seem flustered, like you're trying to keep something hidden.

"Y/N," Sirius calls over the table, oblivious to the exchange, "You’ll back me up here, won’t you? James is always messing up the simple stuff, right? You wouldn’t want him as your Auror partner."

You laugh, but there’s a slight hesitation to it. "I don’t know if I should get involved in this one," you reply, your voice light, though your eyes dart quickly to Harry again. He smiles at your answer, his grin softening just for you.

Lily feels something tighten in her chest, the realization slowly settling in. She glances at Remus and James, who are completely engrossed in their conversation with Sirius about the latest dark wizard they’re tracking, none of them noticing the subtle shifts. It’s as if the rest of the room fades away, and it’s just Harry and you in your own little world.

Harry reaches for the bowl of potatoes, offering them to you before anyone else. "Want some?" he asks, his voice gentle, almost careful.

You nod, your fingers brushing his as you take the bowl from him. There’s a moment – a flicker of something deeper – before you both snap out of it, returning to the larger conversation as if nothing happened. But Lily saw it, the way your cheeks flushed, and the way Harry’s hand lingered just a second too long.

"How’s the investigation going, anyway?" Remus asks, his voice pulling Lily back into the moment.

"Not too bad," James responds eagerly. "We’re closing in, just need to catch the bastard in the act. Shouldn’t be long now."

"And we’d catch him a lot faster if James could keep his head down for five minutes," Sirius teases, grinning. "Always getting caught out by something shiny, aren’t you?"

"That’s rich, coming from you!" James shoots back, laughing.

Everyone joins in, the laughter loud and bright, but Lily’s gaze is still on you and Harry. You steal another quick glance at him, and he, seemingly unaware that his mother is watching, grins back at you in that same gentle, knowing way.

Lily’s heart stirs. The signs are all there, so small that no one else notices, but to her, they are unmistakable. You and Harry – there’s something more, something deeper than friendship, and now that she’s seeing it, she can’t unsee it.

The summer sun shines brightly over the Potters’ backyard, the smell of fresh-cut grass mixing with the inviting scent of grilled food. The pool sparkles under the sunlight, its water cool and inviting as laughter echoes from the edge. Towels are scattered across the lawn, and the atmosphere is relaxed and carefree, the perfect family day.

Lily watches from her lounge chair, a glass of iced tea in hand, as Harry and you sit together at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water. You’re both soaked, dripping from your recent swim, and Harry's hair is messier than usual, plastered to his forehead. You’re laughing at something he just said, your face lit up with amusement. There’s a playfulness between the two of you that seems different today, something more intimate.

Without warning, Harry flicks a handful of water at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. You yelp, splashing him right back, and soon both of you are engaged in a playful battle, water flying as you try to outdo each other. Lily can’t help but smile at the scene, but as she watches more closely, she begins to notice things she hadn’t seen before.

You and Harry are sitting closer than usual – almost too close for what would be considered casual. Your hands brush as you move, and while you both quickly pull away, the small, lingering touches are hard to ignore.

Every now and then, Harry’s gaze lingers on you just a second too long, his smile softer, warmer. When he laughs, it's like the sound is meant just for you.

Lily sips her tea, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watches the way you laugh at Harry’s joke, an inside joke, judging by the way your eyes twinkle with shared understanding. The rest of the family, Sirius, James, and Remus are off by the grill, completely oblivious to the shift in dynamic.

But Lily sees it – sees the way Harry gently nudges you with his shoulder, the way your hand instinctively rests on his arm for just a moment before you remember yourself and pull away.

It’s all subtle, so easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. But Lily is paying attention now.

Harry suddenly stands up, offering you his hand to help you up from the pool’s edge. "C’mon, Y/N," he says, that soft smile still playing on his lips. "I won’t splash you again, promise."

You roll your eyes, but you take his hand, and the way your fingers curl into his doesn’t escape Lily’s notice. You stand beside him, your shoulder brushing his as you both make your way to the picnic table where everyone else is seated.

There’s a closeness there, a quiet comfort that has always been present between you and Harry, but today it feels… different. More deliberate. More tender. Lily watches as you both sit down, slightly apart, but still close enough that your arms almost touch.

You catch Harry’s eye again, and though the moment is fleeting, the smile you share speaks volumes.

Lily’s heart tightens. It’s not that she’s surprised – Harry has always been close to you, and you’ve known each other for years – but now, in this quiet, unspoken way, she’s starting to see the truth. The small moments, the hidden touches, the way you both light up around each other… they’re no longer just friends.

And for the first time, Lily wonders if maybe they haven’t been for quite a while.

Lily stands in the quiet kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the evening stillness. She fills a glass with cool water, her thoughts drifting as she waits for the glass to fill. The soft glow of the moonlight filters through the window, casting a gentle light on the countertops, and she glances outside, her gaze drawn to the garden.

It’s then she sees them.

Under the expansive blanket of stars, you and Harry sprawled on the grass, their figures outlined against the shimmering night. They lie close together, a warmth radiating between them that Lily can almost feel from where she stands.

Harry has his arm draped over you, fingers idly playing with your hair, while you lean into him, your head nestled against his shoulder. They seem oblivious to the world around them, lost in their own little universe.

Lily’s heart swells as she watches. Their body language speaks volumes – Harry’s hand cradles yours, their fingers intertwined, while the closeness of their faces suggests a bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

They share quiet laughter, the kind that seems to bubble up from a deep-seated happiness, and for a moment, Lily is entranced by the tender scene unfolding before her.

She sips her water, careful to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt this precious moment. She knows they’ve snuck out – Harry has a tendency to bend the rules when it comes to you – but she doesn’t mind. Not tonight. The joy radiating from them is a welcome sight, a reminder of the innocence of youth and the sweetness of first love.

In the moonlight, Harry glances down at you, his expression softening as he catches your gaze. You smile up at him, a smile that lights up your face, and Lily can’t help but smile herself.

It’s clear they haven’t shared their feelings with anyone yet, keeping their blossoming relationship a secret, but Lily knows. She sees the way they look at each other, the way they are together, and it fills her with a sense of warmth and pride.

You laugh at something Harry says, your laughter ringing like music in the still night, Lily feels a bittersweet pang in her chest. She knows this time is fleeting, these moments of pure bliss will eventually shift into something more complicated as they grow up. But for now, she cherishes the sight of you and her son, wrapped up in their own little world, oblivious to everything else.

After a moment, she quietly retreats into the kitchen, letting them have their space, knowing that this is a memory she’ll carry with her. A moment of magic, hidden under the stars.

The evening has come to a gentle close, the once lively hum of conversation now reduced to soft murmurs as the last few guests filter out of the house. Plates, cups, and party decorations are scattered across the living room, remnants of the night’s gathering. Lily stands in the kitchen doorway, observing the scene with a satisfied sigh, already bracing herself for the inevitable clean-up.

Harry is lingering by the door, chatting with James and Sirius, but something catches his eye. You’re crouching by the coffee table, collecting stray cups and stacking them in a neat pile. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he watches you for a second, and Lily notices that soft look in his eyes – the same one she’s been catching more and more recently.

Without a word, Harry breaks away from the conversation, crossing the room to where you’re picking up a plate that teeters on the edge of falling.

“Hey,” he says, voice warm and casual. “Let me help with that.”

You look up, startled but smiling, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “Oh, thanks, but it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“I know you do,” Harry replies with a grin, reaching down to pick up a few more plates. “But it’ll go faster if I help. Plus, I don’t mind.”

They exchange a glance, and Lily, leaning against the kitchen counter, can see the way their faces soften when they look at each other. There’s something gentle in the way they smile – like they’re sharing a secret, like the whole room fades away whenever they’re together.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, fine. But don’t blame me if you end up with dish duty.”

Harry chuckles, stacking a few cups in his hand. “I’ve faced worse.” He winks at you, and your laugh echoes softly through the room.

As they work together, their movements fall into an easy rhythm. Harry is close – closer than necessary, really – but Y/N don’t seem to mind. He hands you plates without you asking, their hands brushing lightly with each exchange, and each time it happens, they both glance up at each other, eyes sparkling.

Lily notices how Harry stays by your side, making sure you don’t carry too much, subtly taking the heavier load without making a fuss. When you reach for a large stack of plates, Harry steps in front of you with a playful smile.

“Here, let me get that,” he says, lifting the stack before she can protest.

You cross your arms, giving him a mock stern look. “You’re making me look bad, Potter.”

Harry grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Just being chivalrous. You can thank me later.”

Lily suppresses a smile, pretending to be absorbed in cleaning the counter but really watching the two of them from the corner of her eye. There’s something unspoken in their interactions, a bond so clear that it makes the simplest moments – like cleaning up after a party – feel intimate. She can see it in the way Harry’s always drawn to you, how he goes out of his way to be near you, as if it’s second nature now.

They finish clearing the table, but Harry stays close to you, picking up a stray cup even though the bulk of the mess is already gone. You don’t seem to mind his presence, and Lily can tell by the way they keep stealing glances, their eyes meeting and holding for a beat too long.

“Thanks for helping,” you say quietly, your voice sincere. “I didn’t think you’d want to stick around for the boring part.”

Harry shrugs, smiling at you. “Anytime. Besides…” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. “I don’t mind as long as I’m with you.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you duck your head with a small smile, busying yourself with wiping down the table to avoid meeting his gaze.

Lily’s heart swells as she watches them. She’s always been aware of the bond between you and Harry, but moments like this make it undeniable. It’s not just friendship or affection. There’s something deeper, something glowing between them, like they bring out the best in each other just by being close.

The room is quiet now, the clatter of dishes and laughter replaced with a kind of peaceful contentment. You and Harry finish tidying, but they don’t move apart. Even in the simple act of cleaning up, they’re glowing in each other’s presence, the connection between them unspoken yet unmistakable.

Lily watches them from her place in the kitchen, her heart warm with understanding. They don’t have to say anything for her to know what’s growing between them. It’s already there, shining in every glance, every smile, every small gesture. And though they’re not ready to share it with the world, Lily knows. It’s only a matter of time.

Lily tiptoes through the quiet house, the soft creak of the floorboards barely audible in the stillness of the night. The clock on the wall reads just after midnight – closer to 2 a.m., she thinks – as she heads into the kitchen for a glass of water.

As she nears the living room, something catches her eye. At first, she thinks it’s a shadow, but then she hears a soft sniffle – a quiet, muffled sound. Lily freezes, peeking around the corner, her hand halfway raised to turn on the kitchen light.

There, on the couch, is Harry. His arm is wrapped around you, curled into him, your face buried against his chest as if the world might shatter if you let go. His hand moves in slow, soothing strokes up and down your back, his lips close to your ear, whispering sweet words Lily can’t quite make out. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, the only thing keeping you grounded.

Lily’s heart tugs at the sight. She knows exactly why you need comforting tonight – your father, Remus, is out under the full moon, fighting the battle that comes with his condition. And though you have known your whole life what this night means, it doesn’t make it any easier.

Lily doesn’t need to get closer to see the red puffiness around your eyes, the way your shoulders shake slightly, even though you’re quiet now. You’ve been crying. And Harry… her sweet boy… is there, holding you together.

For a moment, Lily can’t move. She watches the way Harry cradles you like you’re something precious, whispering things only meant for your ears. His voice is soft but firm. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “It’s going to be okay, Starlight. I promise. I’m right here. I won’t let go.”

Lily feels something stir deep within her at the tenderness in Harry’s words, the nickname Starlight. She’s heard him call you that in passing, but here, in the dim glow of the room, it carries a deeper meaning – an intimacy she hadn’t quite registered before.

She watches Harry pull you closer, if that’s even possible. His arms wrap around you tighter, as if trying to shield you from every pain in the world. And you, for all your quiet strength, look so fragile in this moment. The way you curl into him, your breath still a little shaky, makes it clear you only just stopped crying.

Lily’s heart aches, but it also swells with pride. Her son… her sweet, kind Harry… is exactly the person she raised him to be. Gentle. Compassionate. He’s the one you turn to, the one who can make you feel whole when everything else is spinning out of control.

When did this happen? she wonders, her gaze softening as she takes in the scene. She knew you were close, of course. You had always been a part of their lives, but this… this is different. The way you hold each other, how Harry’s entire focus is on you, as if nothing else in the world matters. Lily realizes then that this isn’t just friendship. It’s something much deeper.

They love each other, Lily thinks, her heart both heavy and warm at the same time. She’s seen love before – felt it in her own bones with James – but seeing it blossom between her son and you are something else entirely. She didn’t expect to see it so soon, but it’s undeniable now. The way Harry whispers your name, the way you seem to find comfort in his touch alone.

Harry’s voice breaks through her thoughts again, soft and gentle as he reassures you. “Your dad’s going to be alright. Just breathe with me, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

You nod weakly, sniffling into his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “I know… I just hate waiting. I feel so helpless.”

“I know,” Harry soothes, his thumb brushing against your shoulder in slow circles. He wipes away your tears with the pads of his fingers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead as if he could kiss away all your worries. “But you’re not alone, Y/N. You’ve got me. You’ve got all of us. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Lily can barely breathe. There’s something about Harry’s words that feels almost sacred in this moment. He’s so sure, so steady, offering you the kind of comfort that only comes from someone who truly understands the weight of your worry. It’s more than just words; it’s a promise.

She can feel the depth of your connection now, the unspoken bond between you that has quietly grown over the summer. Maybe longer, she muses, realizing how blind she’s been to this. But now that she sees it, she can’t unsee it.

You’re in love. And it’s the kind of love that warms her heart to witness. Harry isn’t just comforting you tonight because he’s a kind friend – he’s holding you because he needs to, because he can’t stand to see you in pain.

Lily stands there for a few more moments, not wanting to intrude. She feels a swell of pride, mixed with a bittersweet realization that her little boy isn’t so little anymore. He’s growing up, finding his own path, just like she and James once did.

With a soft sigh, Lily turns on her heel, quietly retreating back down the hall. She doesn’t need to say anything. Not tonight. You have your moment, and it’s yours to keep. As she heads back upstairs, she allows herself a small smile, knowing that Harry is exactly where he needs to be, with the person who makes him happy.

The living room buzzes with energy as James shuffles the cards with a dramatic flair, his brow furrowed in mock concentration. “Right, everyone, brace yourselves,” he declares. “Tonight’s the night I finally beat all of you – and you can’t blame your bad luck on the moon, Moony.”

Remus snorts, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed. “Considering I’ve beaten you the last three game nights, I’d say luck has nothing to do with it.”

“Remus, I’ve been letting you win,” James retorts, grinning as he deals the cards, throwing them to each player with exaggerated force. “It’s all part of my long-term strategy to lull you into a false sense of security.”

“Is that what we’re calling your losing streak now?” Sirius quips from the other side of the table, his feet kicked up on an ottoman, his eyes lazily scanning his cards. “Because, mate, I was starting to think you’d peaked in your Quidditch days, and it’s been downhill ever since.”

“Excuse you,” James shoots back, faking offense. “I’m still in my prime. Potter magic never fades. Right, Lil?” He looks over his shoulder at Lily, who smirks from her spot on the couch.

“I don’t know, love,” she teases, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “You were just complaining about your back this morning.”

Sirius cackles, slapping the arm of his chair. “Potter, the Quidditch legend, brought down by back pain! You really are getting old, mate.”

“Oh, shove off, Pads,” James grumbles, though he’s laughing. “It’s all tactical. I’m pacing myself, saving my energy for the crucial moments.”

“Sure, sure,” Remus mutters, shaking his head as he gathers his cards. “Because complaining about your back is all part of a master plan.”

Lily chuckles quietly, her eyes drifting over the table to where you and Harry sit across from each other. Their banter continues to fill the room, but Lily notices how Harry’s eyes flick to you every time you adjust your cards. His expression softens in those brief moments, like he’s more interested in her than the game.

You, too, sneak glances at Harry, especially when he’s not paying attention. It’s subtle, but Lily catches every lingering look, every quiet smile, like they’re sharing something no one else in the room can see.

“Well, if we’re done with the lovebirds' reunion,” Sirius drawls, pulling Lily’s attention back to the game. “Shall we get this over with? Remus, I fully expect you to lose miserably this time. No excuses.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see, Pads. Though if I were you, I’d focus more on keeping up with the game and less on running your mouth.”

James laughs, flipping his first card onto the table. “Oh, you know he can’t help himself, Moony. It’s all part of his charm.”

Sirius opens his mouth to respond, but Lily notices that Harry has just made a clever move, earning a cheer from James. “Well played, Harry!” James calls out, though his grin is full of fatherly pride.

While the others are still reacting to Harry’s success, Lily notices how your face lights up. You shoot a proud, affectionate smile toward Harry, your eyes sparkling, though you quickly glance down at your cards again before anyone else can catch you.

Harry, seemingly aware of your admiration, glances your way and meets your eyes. His lips curl into a soft, almost secretive smile, one that’s just for you.

Sirius interrupts the moment, pointing at the cards on the table. “All right, no more distractions! Let’s see if Harry can keep this streak going, or if James’s legendary losing streak is contagious.”

“Oi!” James retorts, but it’s clear everyone’s having fun. Remus, always the voice of calm, rolls his eyes.

Lily, watching from the sidelines, can’t help but smile to herself. Even amid the playful banter and noise, Harry and yours quiet, unspoken connection stands out. They’re on the verge of something, even if no one else sees it just yet.

Sirius throws another playful insult across the table, and everyone laughs, but Lily’s focus remains on the two of them. No one else seems to notice the way Harry and you keep sneaking those glances at each other – except her. They’re playing their own game tonight, one that has nothing to do with cards.

The afternoon sun filters softly through the large windows of the Potter house, casting golden light across the garden. The last few minutes of lunch are winding down, the conversation at the table growing quieter as everyone settles into a relaxed, post-meal calm. Plates are scattered with crumbs, and empty glasses glisten in the sunlight. James and Sirius are still chatting, their voices loud and animated, while Remus listens quietly with a soft smile, nodding occasionally at their banter.

Lily sits back in her chair, her gaze drifting across the table to where Harry and you sit side by side. They’re not speaking much, but there’s a comfortable ease between them, a kind of unspoken understanding that Lily has become used to noticing.

Harry’s hand moves subtly under the table. It’s a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but Lily catches it. He slips something into your hand – something small, delicate. His expression remains neutral, but there’s a flicker of something playful in his eyes, something secretive.

Your fingers close around whatever it is, and your cheeks flush a soft pink. You glance quickly at Harry, a shy smile playing at the corners of your lips, and then down at your lap where your hand still holds the small gift.

Lily doesn’t need to see what Harry has given her to know it’s something meaningful. It’s the way they’re both trying to be discreet, as if they’re sharing a secret, just the two of them. Your blush deepens, and you bite your lip, trying to stifle your grin. You peek at the tiny object in your hand before tucking it away in your pocket.

Harry leans back casually, pretending to listen to James and Sirius’s conversation, but there’s a quiet satisfaction in his expression. His foot nudges yours under the table, a soft, playful touch that goes unnoticed by everyone except you – and Lily.

Your eyes flicker toward Harry, your smile growing. You lift your hand slightly under the table, as if to squeeze his fingers in thanks, but the moment is so brief, so subtle, it’s almost invisible. Almost.

But not to Lily.

She watches, her heart swelling with warmth. It’s such a small, tender thing – this exchange between them. A tiny note or perhaps a flower from the garden, passed between them like a secret promise. Whatever it is, it makes you glow, your usual calm demeanour softening into something more vulnerable and open. Harry, too, seems lighter, more at ease, like being close to her is enough.

Lily keeps her gaze on them for another beat, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. It’s clear they’re doing their best to keep this little gesture between themselves, but she can’t help but feel a sense of pride watching them. They’re careful, quiet about whatever is growing between them, but it’s undeniable.

James laughs loudly at something Sirius says, the sound breaking through the soft quiet of the moment. You shift in your seat, pulling your hand out of your pocket, your expression carefully neutral again, though your blush still lingers. Harry, ever so casual, stretches his arms over his head, flashing you another quick smile.

Lily turns back to the conversation around her, but the image of Harry and you, their subtle exchange, stays with her. It’s moments like this that make it all so clear – the way they move around each other, how even the smallest touches and quiet gestures hold so much meaning. They’re trying to keep their feelings hidden, but for Lily, it’s as obvious as the sunshine pouring through the windows.

She says nothing, though. There’s no need to rush them. Let them have their secrets. Let them enjoy these little moments for themselves, for now. Lily watches them out of the corner of her eye, and her smile lingers, knowing that, whatever it is they’re sharing, it’s something special.

Lily moves quietly through the hallway, a folded pile of laundry in her arms, when the soft murmur of voices catches her attention. It’s coming from the sitting room, and she recognises them instantly – Harry’s low, familiar tone and the softer voice of you.

She slows her pace, curious but careful, not wanting to interrupt. Their voices are hushed, intimate, and though she doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, something about the tension in the air makes her stop just outside the doorway.

“I just… I don’t know how much longer we can keep this secret,” Harry says, his voice carrying an undercurrent of vulnerability. "I mean, I hate that we have to hide it – us. You mean everything to me, Y/N."

There’s a pause, and Lily can practically hear the nervous energy between them. Your voice, softer now, almost hesitant, responds, “I know, Harry. I feel the same. But what if things change once everyone knows? What if-”

“They won’t,” he cuts her off gently but firmly. “Not for me. Not ever.”

Lily’s breath catches in her throat. She leans subtly against the wall, not daring to move, not wanting to miss a word. Harry sounds so sure, so ready to take that next step, and it’s clear to Lily what’s coming next. A confession. A leap.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Harry’s voice comes again, quieter now, almost as if he’s gathering his courage. “Y/N, I – there’s something I’ve been wanting to say. For a while now.” His words are filled with emotion, raw and unguarded. “I think I’m ready to-”

A sudden noise from the kitchen shatters the moment – Sirius, unmistakably, laughing loudly as he fumbles with something. The clattering of dishes follows, and you and Harry both fall silent, the intimate atmosphere broken in an instant.

Lily hears you let out a soft laugh, the tension between them easing, though she can tell they’re still lingering on the edge of something unspoken. “Of course,” you mutter, clearly trying to mask her disappointment with humour. "Always at the best part."

Harry chuckles too, but it’s strained, like he’s lost the momentum he had been building. "Yeah, typical timing."

Lily feels the weight of the moment slip away, but there’s no denying what she’s just witnessed. They’re both holding back, hovering on the brink of admitting how deep their feelings run, but something keeps stopping them. Maybe it’s the fear of what comes next – of sharing their love with the world – or maybe it’s simply the enormity of the words themselves.

As she listens to them exchange a few more quiet words, something stirs within Lily. She knows that this moment isn’t the last. Whatever Harry was about to say, whatever you were feeling, it’s only a matter of time before they find the courage to cross that line. It’s inevitable.

Smiling softly to herself, Lily moves away from the doorway, careful not to draw attention. She leaves them to their half-finished conversation, knowing that they’ll find their way back to it soon enough. And when they do, she’ll be ready for the day they finally share their secret with the world.

Lily stands at the dresser, brushing her hair, her eyes distant as she watches James change into his pyjamas. The room is warm, softly lit by the bedside lamp, casting a cozy glow over the space. James flops down onto the bed, stretching with a contented sigh, but he notices that Lily seems unusually quiet tonight.

He glances at her, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, what is it? I can practically see the wheels turning in your head.”

Lily bites her lip, unsure of where to begin. She puts down her brush and turns to face him. “It’s about Harry,” she says softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

James props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “Harry? What’s he done now? He’s not sneaking out to play Quidditch at midnight again, is he?”

Lily chuckles, shaking her head. “No, no… it’s not that.” She takes a deep breath, searching for the right words. “It’s about him and her.”

James raises an eyebrow, clearly not following. “Her?”

Lily gives him a look, as if it should be obvious. “Y/N.”

James sits up a little straighter, his curiosity piqued. “Ohhh, I see. What about them?”

Lily hesitates, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I think… I think they’re more than just friends, James.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really? Harry? And Y/N?” He leans back, processing this information. “What makes you think that?”

Lily smiles softly, her thoughts drifting back to the moments she’s seen. “I’ve noticed little things, over the summer. They’re always together, which isn’t unusual, but… they’ve been holding hands when they think no one’s looking. And the way they glance at each other… it’s not just friendly. There’s something deeper there.”

James stares at her, a bit stunned. “Holding hands? Are you sure?”

Lily nods. “I’ve seen it more than once. And tonight, during dinner… I saw them giggling, soft little laughs that only they seemed to share. Harry even gave her something – a small gift, I think, but I couldn’t see what it was. She looked so happy, James. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.”

James runs a hand through his hair, letting out a low whistle. “Blimey. I mean, I knew they were close, but… this is different. Our boy’s in deep, isn’t he?”

Lily lets out a small, wistful sigh, folding her hands in her lap. “I’ve been watching them, and it’s not just puppy love. I think they really care about each other.”

James watches her carefully, sensing there’s more to this. “You’re holding something back,” he says, his voice gentler now. “What else have you noticed?”

Lily hesitates, her cheeks warming slightly. “I… I saw them kiss,” she admits quietly, her eyes flickering up to meet his. “In the garden a few days ago. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just… sweet. Soft. But it felt like I was seeing something private, so I didn’t say anything.”

James blinks, clearly surprised but also slightly impressed. “Kissed? Harry?” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Our little Harry, snogging my best friend’s daughter. Merlin, I never thought I’d see the day.”

Lily lets out a soft laugh, though there’s a touch of emotion in it. “He’s growing up, James. Faster than I expected. And I know he’ll come to us when he’s ready to tell us, but… it’s strange, seeing it happen before our eyes.”

James moves closer, taking her hand in his. “It’s bound to be strange, love. We’ve had him to ourselves all this time, and now… well, he’s finding his own way. But if he’s found someone who makes him happy, then that’s all we can ask for, isn’t it?”

Lily nods, her voice soft. “I just wasn’t ready to see it. I’ve watched him grow from that little boy who’d follow me around everywhere, to this young man who’s falling in love.” She smiles, though her eyes are misty. “It makes me proud… and a little sad, all at once.”

James wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. “I get it. It’s hard watching them grow up. But you know what? He’s a good kid. And if he’s with her, I’m sure he’s doing alright. Besides, she’s practically family. Can’t imagine a better match for him.”

Lily leans into his embrace, finding comfort in his words. “I know,” she whispers. “I just hope they both know what they’re doing.”

James kisses the top of her head, smiling down at her. “They’ll figure it out, just like we did. Let them have their moments, and when Harry’s ready, he’ll come to us.”

Lily nods, feeling the weight lift slightly from her chest. “You’re right. We’ll wait. But it does make me happy, seeing him like this. He’s… different with her. Softer, more open. And she cares for him, I can tell.”

James grins, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just like you and me, then?”

Lily laughs, swatting his arm. “Don’t get too smug.”

“Can’t help it. He’s got my charm, after all,” James quips, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Lily rolls her eyes, but there’s affection in her smile. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me anyway,” James says, pulling her down beside him with a grin.

Lily rests her head on his chest, the soft sound of his heartbeat calming her. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I do. And I’m sure, one day, Harry will feel the same way about her.”

James presses a kiss to her forehead, holding her close as they settle into bed, knowing that their boy is growing up, and trusting that, just like them, he’ll find his way.

[written-with-clouds]

I Found Love (Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be) Pt. 1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/ Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Aemond had always been close, even after he lost his eye and your mom moved your family to Dragonstone. What will happen when your grandsire dies and Aegon takes the throne from your mother? Will you and Aemond be able to stay together? Or will family drive you apart?

Authors Note: Cross posted on AO3, Aemond and Reader are of legal age during all spicy scenes.

CW: Uncle/Niece, Secret Relationship

Part 2 Part 3

Six years ago

“Aemond?” You whisper quietly. Your voice echoes back to you softly as it bounces off the stone walls of the hidden passages within the keep. For a while, the only thing you hear is the pitter patter of rats running and the squeaking from the handle of your lantern. And then you hear it, the sound of footsteps steadily getting closer. 

“What do you want?” Aemond asks, his own lantern swinging in his grasp from the speed of his steps. “Shouldn’t you be tending to your brothers.” He spat. 

“They’ll be fine. I wanted to check on you…” You reply, taking a small step towards him. Your brow twitches as you gaze at the jagged scar that now covers his left eye. “Does it hurt bad?” 

You move to reach for him, but he smacks your hand away. “What does it matter.” He states with no hint of question in his tone. “It’s happened. It’s over. Move on.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, lowering your hand and taking a step back. Taking a measured breath you speak. “My mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone. We leave in the morning.” 

Aemond scoffs, crossing his arms. “And you asked to meet here to tell me that? Why? Do you expect a warm send off? After what your bastard brothers di-“ 

His head lurches to the left as you smack him squarely across the face. “What my brothers did was neither right, nor wrong. And you,” you jab a finger against his chest, “are no less innocent of this mess.” Taking a deep breath, you turn to walk away. Taking a few steps before turning around to face him again. “I had hoped that despite what happened between you and my brothers… that you might have considered me friend enough to miss me when I’m gone. Because I will surely miss you, Aemond.” 

You turn your back to him once again and continue back to your room. You can hear the sound of footsteps following your own but force yourself to ignore it. If Aemond was going to act as a child, you would let him. 

Just as you were about to push the door to your room open, Aemond’s hand closed around your wrist. He pulled you back by the arm and hugged you. Muttering something you couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?” You ask. 

Aemond pulls back slightly, “I said… I will miss you too… you are my friend, and I don’t have many of those.” 

You smile softly at him, pulling him back into a tight hug. You stand there for a moment, hugging each other, drawing out the moment as long as you can. 

“I will try to write.” You promise as you separate. He promises the same and you watch sadly as he retreats back through the hidden passages to his own room. 

Present 

Uncle, 

I am pleased to say that I will be in Kingslanding in a week's time. Though the reason is less than joyful, all the same I look forward to seeing you. Perhaps, if you can find time 

for your niece, you could continue tutoring me in Valyrian. I have grown quite profound, I think you will be proud. 

Niece, 

I look forward to your arrival. I shall make sure to have time set aside for you.

Stepping out of the carriage, you stretch. The ride had been long. Longer than normal you think… but perhaps that was because you were excited to be back in the place you had spent much of your childhood. 

Your mother had told you, Jace, and Luke that she would visit your grandsire before the proceedings regarding the successor of Driftmark. In the meantime the three of you were free to wander, so long as you stayed out of trouble, she had added as your brothers took off to explore the grounds of the Red Keep. Smiling fondly after them, you follow behind leisurely. The three of you wandered through the halls trading memories from when you were little. As you were exploring, you couldn’t help but notice the questioning gazes of the castle workers and the various diplomats that were milling about. Luke had noticed it too, if the insecure look he gave you was any indication. 

Eventually, the three of you found your way out to the training yard, Jace jogging ahead and laughing as he found a wall missing a chunk of stone. 

He spun around to face you and Luke, “I told you it’d still be here! From when you tried to use Ser Criston’s Morningstar!” He reminisced fondly, wrapping an arm around Luke’s shoulder as they went to inspect the weapons cart. 

Your attention, however, was drawn to a small crowd forming a circle. You walk over, finding a spot that allows you to see into the center of the growing crowd.

 Your lips stretch into a wide smile as you finally manage to see what’s happening. You watch as Aemond and Ser Criston spar. The sound of metal hitting metal rings out through the yard as Ser Criston swings his Morningstar, only for Aemond to deflect it with his sword. Aemond blocks another attempt with a wooden shield. Only for it to be knocked out of his hand, the wood splintering from the force of the hit. For a moment, they circle each other. Aemond twirls his sword, watching Ser Criston with a predatory gaze. Ser Criston moves first, swinging his Morningstar at Aemond. Your breath catches as you watch Aemond dodge each swing. He makes a sudden, calculated, attack and in just minutes the fight is over, with Aemond victorious and the top of his sword at Ser Criston’s throat. 

“You’ll be a force to be reckoned with in the tourneys, my prince.” Ser Criston stated. 

“I have no interest in tourneys,” Aemond responded, his eye locking onto someone in the crowd, “nephews, come to train?” 

The sound of the large outer doors opening draws everyone’s attention. Lord Vaemond Velaryon striding through, glancing at your brothers momentarily before continuing. 

The people gathered in the training yard begin milling about once more and the crowd disperses. You see your brothers making their way inside, likely heading to find your mother. You are about to leave when a voice stops you. 

“Sia ao jāre naejot henujagon lēda iā rytsas? (Were you going to leave without a hello?)” 

Smirking, you face Aemond. “Ao istan busy (you were busy), I didn’t want to distract you.” 

Aemond smirked back. Stepping into your space, his hands clasped behind his back, he leans down placing his lips by your ear. He was so close that as he spoke, his lips would occasionally brush against the shell of your ear. His voice was low and teasing.“Ao kostagon va moriot distract issa (you may always distract me).” He takes a step back and straightens up to stand at his full height. “I’ll see you in there. Do wish your mother good luck for me.” He taunts, sauntering inside.

You wander aimlessly through the Red Keep, your mind replaying the events of earlier. Ser Vaemond’s cruel words directed at you and your brothers, questioning your parentage. How he spat them out in front of the court, in front of the King, your Grandsire. You could still hear the echo of his voice as he loudly declared you and your brothers bastards. And the sound of a sword as, in the blink of an eye, Ser Vaemond’s head was sliced clean in half by Daemon. The image of blood splattering against the floor and the dull thud of his body was stuck in your head. Death was nothing new to you. Nor was blood. But you’d never been that close to either before. 

You are pulled from your thoughts as an arm shoots out from behind a wall banister, pulling you behind it into a hidden passage. You make an ‘oof’ sound as you are pushed against a wall, the stone cold and biting against your back even through the fabric of your dress. 

“Have you been avoiding me, ñuha dōna?(my sweet)” Aemond purrs against your ear, making you shiver. He has one hand placed against the wall and the other rests against your hip, trapping you between him and the stone. Pulling away from the side of your head, he gazes down at you, cocking his head to the side. 

You meet his gaze, your own head lifting slightly as you smirk. “Gaoman daor gīmigon skoros ao nūmāzma (I do not know what you mean), uncle. I have simply been walking the castle grounds.” 

“I have told you never to call me that… not when it’s just us.” He growled, lilac eye darkening. 

“Would you rather I call you ñuha dārilaros (my prince).” You tease. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to be called ñuha zaldrīzes (my dragon).” 

He snarls, hooking his index finger under your chin and bringing your face closer to his. “Skoros naejot gaomagon lēda ao (what to do with you),” he murmurs before closing the gap and kissing you. 

The hand resting against your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls your body flush to his. Your hands wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair, moaning into the kiss as his thigh slots between your legs, pressing against your cunt. His hands slide down over your ass, massaging the flesh as he separates from your lips in favor of nipping and sucking on your jaw and throat.

“Aemond~” you pant, head thrown back and knocking against the wall. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging it to make him look at you. His lips were kiss swollen and red. “No marks.” You remind him. His response is a low growl coming from deep in his chest as he reattaches his lips back against your neck. 

His hands guide you to rock against his thigh, a slow pull and push while he massages the flesh of your ass. A gentle grind back and forth as Aemond guides you in pleasuring yourself against him. Your moans echo around you, bouncing off of the walls as you roll into him. 

Aemond yanks the top of your dress down roughly, groaning appreciatively as your breasts are fully exposed to him. He drags his tongue up the center of your chest before moving to suck a nipple into his mouth. He gently nips at the hardened bud, making you hiss, before releasing it all together. Licking up the length of your neck to just under your ear, he whispers a question.

“Are you getting close, ñuha dōna (my sweet)?” He pauses, pulling back to watch your expression. Your eyes are half lidded and your cheeks are dusted red as your mouth hangs open and small puffs of air come out. “You are, aren’t you… I can tell. The way your hips keep bucking against my leg… your chest heaving as you suck down air…” Your breath hitches and you choke on a moan as Aemond shifts his leg closer. You rock against him feverishly, so close to your release. Your hands are gripping the leather of his shirt so hard your knuckles have turned white.

One hand reaches up and cups the side of his face, pulling him in for a feverish kiss. Aemond licks into your mouth, his tongue dancing against yours. You moan and whimper into him, grinding down against his thigh harder.

Abruptly, Aemond pulls away completely. You whine at the loss of contact, having been on the edge of release. You tug at his shirt, trying to pull him back against you, as you plead breathlessly. He simply chuckles at your desperation. 

“Hush, Issa jorrāelagon (my love),” You watch as Aemond slowly sinks to his knees in front of you, the violet color of his eye nearly completely engulfed by the black pool of his desire. He lifts your ankle off the floor, gently cradling it in his hand. Aemond places a soft kiss against the skin of your calf, then the side of your knee, the flesh of your thigh, working higher and higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as he goes. He hooks your leg over his shoulder, biting your inner thigh, laughing as you lightly shove his shoulder. Peering up at you through his lashes as he slowly licks through your folds before enclosing his mouth over your clit and sucking lightly.

Pulling away from you, he licks his lips. “Seven Gods~” he groaned, “Ao sylutegon sīr sȳz (you taste so good).” 

“Aemond!” you moan, one hand tangles back into his hair and the other rests against his shoulder. His tongue licks its way inside you, thrusting in and out slowly as Aemond uses the pad of his thumb to stimulate your clit. He hums against you as you tug his hair, the vibrations making your hips buck against him. You try to grind against his thumb but Aemond holds your hips still with his free hand. Your back arches off the wall and you jolt with pleasure. Each exhale comes out as a moan. 

“Bona's ziry, jorrāelagon (that’s it, love), let me taste you.” He purrs, replacing his tongue with two fingers. Slowly, Aemond curls his fingers inside you before dragging them out and repeating. The motion is enough to bring you pleasure yet not enough to tip you over the edge and he knows it, Aemond is watching every twitch of your body, every expression you make. He listens to the way your breath hitches, knowing you need more but not giving it to you. Your hips thrust back against Aemond’s fingers, seeking more pleasure unconsciously and you whine when he pulls his finger out completely. 

“You know what to do if you want more, ñuha dōna (my sweet).” He teases, smirking up at you. 

“Kostilus (please), Aemond. I want to cum.. I want you to make me cum.” You beg breathily, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Aemond thrust his finger back inside you. He sets a fast pace this time, thrusting his fingers in and out of you quickly while hooking them perfectly to brush against your most sensitive spots with each movement. 

“Sȳz riña, (good girl)” he praises before licking and sucking against your clit. Your body jerks and twists against him from the sudden intense pleasure. His name falls from your mouth like a prayer as you moan, unable to say or think anything but him. Your eyes roll back and you stutter out a small breath. Your body freezes, your muscles tensing. The hand in his hair grips it tightly, holding him against your core as you cum. 

Aemond guides you through it, whispering praises against your thigh as his fingers slow before pulling out completely. He stands, making a show of sucking your climax off of his fingers. The two of you stand in comfortable silence. You, catching your breath, and him, helping to situate your dress. 

“I missed you too,” You joke, breaking the silence surrounding the two of you. He chuckles softly from behind you, where he was relacing the strings of your dress. It was more a puff of air than a laugh. Finishing, he wraps his arms around you, spinning you to face him. He kisses you again, though this kiss is gentle, his hand cradling the side of your face. 

“I want to tell them. Tonight at dinner.” Aemond whispers, placing his forehead against yours. “I’m tired of hiding.. I want them to know you are mine.”  

You look into Aemonds eye, seeing the full range of his emotions and the hope he has of a future with you. It’s a sight only you get to see, “I want that too…” 

“But?” Aemond said, his shoulders deflating slightly at the thought of you not truly wanting to be with him. At the fear of this being no more than a secret for you, that you would be ashamed to be seen with him. 

“But maybe we should tell King Viserys in private… I’m  worried about the possible arguing between our families if we tell everyone at once.” “Then it’s settled, we will tell the King after dinner. When his spirits are high.” Aemond smiled, placing a chaste kiss against your lips. Separating from you he grabbed your hand, “until tonight, ñuha dōna (my sweet).” He kissed the back of your hand and turned to walk away.

The dinner had not gone as you had hoped. For a while, things were nice… amicable even. But then, Aegon made a snide comment to Jace about Baela and then about you, and all hell broke loose. 

Jace had punched Aegon square in the nose, likely breaking it. Aegon, in turn, shoved Jace down against the table. Luke had gotten up so quickly that his chair rocked back and clattered to the floor. You watched as Aemond blocked Luke’s path towards Jace and Aegon, where they were now throwing punches at each other. Aemond shoved Luke causing him to stumble back a few steps and his gaze quickly shifted to your own. 

You locked eyes with him, silently pleading that he not get involved. And in the seconds that he had not been watching your brother, Luke landed a punch directly against Aemonds jaw. You gasped, watching helplessly from your seat as the two sets of brothers were wrangled apart by the kingsguard. Standing you joined your mother as she worriedly looked over Jace and Luke. Your eyes glanced over to Aemond briefly and, as he met you gaze once more, you quirked a brow. Silently asking if he was alright. He nodded, quick and small, to reassure you before his gaze shifted back to his mother as she fussed about them. 

Before sending you and your brothers to your respective rooms, she informed you that come morning, you would all journey back to Dragonstone.

You quietly climbed out of the secret passageway into Aemonds room after listening to make sure he was alone. Quickly running to embrace him tightly. 

“Tonight could have gone better..” he jokes, hoping to hear your laugh. Instead all he heard was a shuddering inhale. 

“We lost our chance,” you murmur softly against his chest. “The king is probably asleep now.. and it’s far too late for him to accept any visitors in his room, kin or not.”

Aemond strokes your hair soothingly, “It’ll be alright, ñuha dōna (my sweet). We will speak to him in the morning.” 

“I am too leave come first sign of day.. my whole family is. My mother thought it best we leave before the King wakes, to avoid putting too much strain on him.” 

“Gaomagon daor zūgagon (do not fear). We will figure this out… I promise” Aemond moves, cradling your face in one of his hands. With the other he gently brushes your hair off of your shoulder, leaning down to kiss your neck. 

“Aemond… what are you-” 

“Shh, ñuha dōna (my sweet), let’s enjoy what time we have together.” Aemond purrs, his hands reaching behind you and pulling the laces of your dress loose. The fabric falls to the floor, pooling around your feet, leaving you bare. “By the Seven…Jurnegon ao, Issa jorrāelagon ao issi se olvie gevie mirre naejot mirre glaesagon (Look at you, my love you are the most beautiful thing to ever live).” Aemond dips, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting you. You laugh, bracing your hands against his shoulders as he carries you to his bed. You fall against the mattress with a ‘thud’, lifting yourself up on your elbows. You watch with half lidded eyes as Aemond slowly removes his shirt, tossing it to the side. 

He starts to undo his pants when you speak, “Wait,” shifting to your hands and knees you crawl across the mattress until you are in front of him. “Ivestragī issa dohaeragon ao (Let me help you).” Aemond watches as you slowly hook your fingers under the waistband of his pants, sliding them down his legs. You lightly drag your nails across his skin. The sensation makes his muscles tense. 

You meet his gaze as you take his dick in your hand. You slowly run your hand from base to tip and back before stopping. “Kostagon nyke emagon nykeā sylutegon (Can I have a taste), my prince?” 

Aemond growls out a swear, tangling a hand in your hair. “Open your mouth.” He guides you down the length of his cock, groaning as your throat constricts against him. Slowly, Aemond guides your head along his cock. He inhales sharply through his nose as you reach one hand up to grip the part your mouth can’t reach, matching the languid rhythm he set. With your free hand you reach between your legs, rubbing your clit between your fingers. You moan around him, causing Aemonds hips to stutter. 

“Seven… look at you darling… simply tasting my cock brings you this much pleasure?” He teases, “you’re so desperate for me aren’t you?” You moan around him again, your eyes falling closed. 

“Jaelagon tolī (want more)?” You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to groan. He pulls you off of him, pulling you up to stand. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fiercely in a clash of teeth and tongues. He tapped your thigh twice, signaling you to jump. He catches you by the underside of your ass. You lock your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. Aemond reaches beneath you, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. In one thrust, he buries himself inside of your core. 

You break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning as Aemond lifts your hips, bouncing you on him. Your nails claw at his back and you hide your face in his neck, moaning loudly. 

“Ao issi sīr ȳrda, issa dōna (you are so tight, my sweet), He moans into your ear. “You are practically sucking me in every time I pull out” 

“Aemond please– fuuck– It feels so good…” You meet his darkened gaze, panting harshly.  “Harder, I want you to fuck me harder.” 

He moans, hips stuttering before stopping altogether. Aemond pulls out, making you whine in frustration. Dropping you back against the bed, he hooks both of your legs over his shoulders. Quickly lining himself up again, he thrusts in completely with one snap of his hips, setting a fast pace. The force of his thrusts causing the bed to knock against the wall. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you as moan after moan is fucked out of you quicker than you can suck in oxygen. Aemond brings a hand down to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Your body convulses, unsure if it should seek out the intense pleasure you are feeling or if it should move away from it. 

“Aemond! Nyke jāre naejot māzigon (I'm going to come)!” Aemond thrusts into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room with your panting. 

“I am too, love..” He says between pants, his rhythm faltering. 

Your body tenses and your mouth falls open as a loud moan forces its way out of you. Your walls tighten around Aemond’s cock, pushing him over the edge. He collapses against you, kissing you passionately as he climaxes inside of you. 

The both of you lay there catching your breath. Aemond’s body on top of yours, wrapping you up in the perfectness of the moment.

News of King Viserys’ death arrived on the back of a dragon, by way of Rhaenys. Along with the news of Aegon's ascension to king. Your mother had gone into labor early, whether the news was the cause of this no one could say. 

For three agonizing days, you could hear her wails echo throughout all of Dragonstone as Daemon held council after council. Watch over you and your youngest siblings had doubled, there was no where you went that a guard did not accompany you. It was suffocating. 

On the fourth day, just as the sun began to set, a raven appeared on your windowsill. Attached to its foot was a small scroll. It read,

Meet with me, tonight, when the moon is its highest. 

The note had no name signed, but you hadn’t needed a signature to know it was Aemond who called for you. And so, that night you snuck out to the beach and mounted your dragon. 

It took no time to reach the small islet between King's Landing and Dragonstone. You could see Vhagar’s towering for as you approached. Quickly landing, you jumped off of your dragon.  

“Tell me Rhaenys is wrong.” You plead, quickly walking up to Aemond. “Tell me Aegon did not take the throne!”

“I cannot lie to you,” Aemond said solemnly, taking a step towards you as you took a step back. 

“Then why ask me here?” You demand. 

“Run away with me. We can leave this behind us, leave Westeros behind us.” He begs you, hands reaching out to take yours. 

You're shaking your head, tears already welling up in your eyes, as Aemond pulls you back to him. His hands cradle either side of your face, thumbs wiping away the tears that spill over.

“Please, (Y/N)..” his voice is small, afraid of your answer. “Please say yes.. say you want this as much as I do.” Aemond lays his forehead against yours, nuzzling against you. 

Your hands reach up to lay overtop of his, your eyes have closed as tears now run freely down your cheeks. “I..” you choke out, “Aemond I can’t.” You sob, your hands tightly gripping his. “I cannot leave my mother.. I wish I could say yes.. Aemond I do, please believe me… but I can’t.” 

Aemond shushes you, holding you to him as you sob. Tears well in his own eye and threaten to spill over as his chest tightens. Resentment for his family, your family, the situation you’ve both been forced into, threatens to explode out of him. 

Once your cries have lessened, and your breaths start to even out, you pull away. Placing a hand against his cheek, you pull him down for a chaste kiss. “Goodbye, Issa jorrāelagon (my love)..” As you remount your dragon and take off towards Dragonstone, you hear an anguished cry split through the air followed by the thunderous roar of Vhagar.

Part 2 Part 3

[star-girl69]

Let The Light In

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

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synopsis: sick clarisse is a heartless monster

this ask

a/n: i do like fluff too! i promise!

Let The Light In - Lana Del Rey

side note: i liked this song before you tik tok bitches liked this song. first day the album came out i said “oh so let the light in is literally my song” y’all can back off mkay…..

warnings: MOTHER Y/N FR!!!!!!!!, ares kids are big babies, don’t tell anyone they’ll kill you, no plot, clarisse is sick and needy and cuddly and basically a baby, bitch gets austin mcbroom post-catherine sick it’s embarrassing, i still love her, tell me if i missed anything!!

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As soon as you walk into the Ares cabin, you can smell it. It’s not like anyone’s thrown up- you hope, at least- but the entire Ares cabin reeks of snot and wet coughs. You didn’t even know that had a distinct smell. The entire cabin just reeks of a bad, bad, summer cold.

It started off slow. And to their credit, the Ares kids did stay strong for a while. While the rest of the camp was falling into a apocalyptic-esque nightmare, no one in the cabin got sick. Until someone must have.

You remember snorting when Clarisse announced to all of her siblings that whoever got sick would be sleeping outside.

Obviously, that person tried to hide it, and the entire Ares cabin woke up sniffling yesterday. Clarisse vowed to find the rat, but her and the rest of the cabin ended up going to bed early after being asleep on their feet all day.

As the head counselor’s girlfriend, you felt a motherly responsibility to take care of the dying soldiers.

Which is what they were acting like.

“Good morning,” you say softly, quickly shutting the door. The cabin is a mess, even after one night. There’s tissues on the floor, blankets strewn about, everyone’s moaning and groaning. The curtains are all drawn firmly shut, so it’s seems more like 10pm when it’s actually only 10am.

All of the siblings have gathered on the first floor, sometimes two to a bed, couches filled up with sleeping kids.

Everyone mumbles back very pointed “mornings” while you sigh and open up your bag filled with wash cloths.

“Okay,” you say. You already got the sickness a few days ago, and while you’re still sniffling, you’re much better. “I’m here to help!” you announce. Then, you frown. “Where’s Clarisse?”

Matty, on the floor, leaning against the couch, points to a blanketed figure in the corner.

“Asleep,” he yawns. “Which I’m about to be.”

You smile but ultimately walk past her, letting her have a few more moments of what seems to be a fitful sleep- she’s frowning in her sleep, which is absolutely adorable.

You head towards the bathroom, cringing at the overfilling basket of tissues, before you set out your bag on the closed toilet and take out a few wash cloths. You wet them with cold water and hang them over your arms, walking around and putting one on each person’s warm head.

A few actually compare you to a goddess in that moment, and you just hide your giggles and say you’re welcome.

When you finally reach Danny, curled up in a ball on the end of the couch, he looks up at you with big puppy dog eyes.

You’ve quickly realized that all of the Ares kids turn into literal toddlers when they’re sick. But Danny, actually only eleven, seems like a literal baby in this moment. He’s a skinny kid, so when you pick him up he feels like nothing.

“I miss my mom,” he groans into your neck.

“I know,” you say, patting his back.

You complete your rounds of washcloths against hot heads, finally turning around with Danny in your arms. You go back into the bathroom and focus on him for a second, the youngest member of the cabin, touching his forehead.

“You’re not too hot,” you say, encouragingly. You run the tap, wetting the plain white cloth. “But we’ll stick this on anyways.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, head back in your neck. “You’re the best,” he yawns.

When you turn around, Clarisse is crossing her arms in the doorway.

She’s trying her best to look angry, but she’s just pouting.

“Hi, baby,” you smile.

She glares at Danny’s back before reaching forward to grab him from your arms.

“She’s my girlfriend, you little snake,” she huffs, clawing at him.

“Hey!” you shout, pulling back as Danny desperately wraps his legs around your waist, gripping onto your neck for dear life. “He’s eleven, Clarisse.”

“And?” she scoffs. “I’m really sick, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, wetting another washcloth.

“Here you go, you big baby,” you slap it over her forehead and she pouts again, raising her hand to hold it there. “Puppy dog,” you giggle, urging her back to the couch.

“I am not a puppy dog. I’m a pitbull, if anything.”

She sits back in her corner, pushing the blanket aside and opening her arms wide.

“C’mere,” she says, eyes closed, expectant look on her face. “Ditch the snake.”

“Nope,” you smile, flopping down onto the couch, making Danny laugh at the way the two of you bounce.

Danny and Clarisse both settle into your sides, glaring at each other. Danny’s head pressed against your chest, Clarisse’s in her neck. She wraps her arm around your waist and he wraps his around your stomach.

“Gods, Ares kids are so possessive,” you mutter.

“Exactly,” Clarisse replies. She tries to push him away. “Scram,” she says, but it ends in a yawn.

“If Y/N tells me to go then I will,” Danny replies. “I’m only eleven, Clarisse. I need a mom when I’m sick.”

You watch him try to look serious, but he eventually breaks out into a smile.

“Snake,” Clarisse whispers. “Gonna kill you when we’re not sick.”

“No you’re not,” you say, leaning your head against hers. “I’ll walk out right now and take Danny with me.”

She holds you tighter.

“You can’t abandon me in my time of need,” she huffs, and you resist the urge to laugh at the genuine fear in her voice. “I just need you really bad, I was thinking about you all night, angel.”

“Then be on your best behavior,” you smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” she mutters, burrowing her face into your neck. She tugs you closer to her. “You’re so soft. I love you.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you smile, kissing her head.

She shakes her head and pouts. “No.”

“Puppy dog,” you say again, but she chooses to ignore you, placated by the feeling of your lips quickly pressing against hers.

“Pretty girlfriend,” she mumbles, eyes falling shut. “Pretty, pretty, really soft girlfriend.”

Matty scoots over to put his head in your lap.

Now permanently caged in, you give up any hopes of escaping when they all fell back asleep, resigning yourself to a day of boredom, being used as a literal pillow for the sick “toddlers” of the Ares cabin.

“Thanks for bringing the light in, Y/N,” Matty mumbles against the top of your thigh. “You, I mean. You’re the light. Was that clear?”

“Matty, go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles.

“But thank you,” you smile.

You look around the dark, dreary, dirty room.

“Big babies,” you mumble to yourself.

—-

shoutout to danny from music to watch girls too making a second appearance ily

matty is prob my fav original side character for the ares cabin i love him sm so shoutout to him too!!!

and ofc shoutout to clarisse “she’s my girlfriend” la rue

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taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish