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aeralux · 19 days ago

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And she did it again, like... ��

Through Storm and Silence

Hi my darlings,

I have decided to post my new Cregan x Reader fic a day early because I have started to hate it the more I look at it. I did change it since posting the teaser, so my apologies to everyone that is expecting that beginning. This fic is long,d sad, and DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!! (Please let me know if this makes you feel things, my prozac stops me from knowing if this is Actually Sad)

Summary: The loss of your first pregnancy has you shattered in unspeakable ways, and Cregan does his best to comfort his Lady Wife.

✨My Masterlist✨

WC: 13.4k

Warnings: Pregnancy loss, depression, fem!reader, isolation, intimate care, just sad fluff

Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

MDNI!!!

The fire in your chambers had long since burned out, leaving the hearth cold and lifeless. Its ashes, once bright with promise, were now a bleak monument to what had been lost. The flames that had warmed you, like the fragile spark of life that had stirred within you, were extinguished, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. Shadows sprawled across the stone walls, bending and twisting in the faint moonlight that filtered through the frost-covered window. The light was weak, just enough to sharpen the edges of the cold that seeped into the very bones of Winterfell—and into yours.

The chill wasn’t just in the air; it lived in you now, settling deep in your chest, pressing against the raw, hollow ache that had taken root there. This cold wasn’t the familiar bite of winter—it was sharper, crueler, born from the absence of the life you had carried. The fragile hope that had grown inside you, so small yet so powerful, was gone. Its absence left a void so vast it consumed you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move from the high-backed chair by the window, where you sat motionless, staring into the dark expanse of night. The frost on the glass distorted the view beyond, transforming the swaying trees into ghostly silhouettes, their barren limbs stark against the sky. They reminded you of how you felt—stripped bare, fragile, and exposed to the harsh winds of grief.

The gown you wore clung to your body, its once-delicate fabric now feeling oppressive. Days ago, it had been chosen with care, a garment meant to hold the quiet anticipation of the life you carried. Now, its weight pressed against you like an accusation, its seams digging into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. It didn’t just hang on you—it felt as though it was marking you, reminding you of the absence that had replaced what you once held so dear.

You hadn’t changed out of it. The thought of doing so felt too heavy, too meaningless. To strip it away would be to acknowledge the finality of what had been lost, and you couldn’t face that yet. The woman who had smoothed its fabric with pride, who had worn it with a small but steady joy, was no longer there. All that remained was the crushing weight of who she had become—a shadow wearing the remnants of something she could no longer be.

Your trembling hands rested in your lap, fingers curling into the fabric as if trying to find something to hold on to. A faint breeze stirred from the window, its icy touch brushing against your skin like a cruel reminder of the emptiness inside you. You shivered, but still you remained frozen, the weight of Winterfell pressing down on you, heavy and unyielding.

The world outside went on, its voices and footsteps distant and indifferent. The quiet of the castle was unbearable, the oppressive stillness broken only by the occasional creak of wood or the faintest sigh of wind. It was as if the walls themselves conspired to remind you of your solitude, of the storm raging within you while the world beyond carried on, oblivious.

Tears slid silently down your cheeks, warm against the icy stillness of your skin. You made no effort to stop them, nor could you if you tried. They came endlessly, flowing in a slow, aching rhythm that mirrored the grief clawing at your chest.

You were alone with the memory of what had been—a fragile, fleeting spark of life that had slipped through your fingers. And now, with nothing but the cold to hold you, it felt as though you might never be whole again.

The rhythmic thud of boots against stone drifted faintly from the courtyard below, a distant murmur of life pressing onward. A horse’s whinny cut through the air, joined by the indistinct hum of voices carried on the wind. The world beyond was alive, indifferent, ceaseless. But none of it touched you. It all seemed unreal—muted fragments of a life you could no longer claim, slipping through your fingers like mist. You stood at the edge of it all, a silent shadow, severed from the world that churned on without you.

Time had abandoned you, or perhaps it had conspired against you, trapping you in this endless moment while everything else moved forward. The castle walls, so full of life, seemed oblivious to your sorrow. Their quiet betrayal, their unshaken permanence, was unbearable.

Inside the room, the silence pressed down on you, thick as the weight in your chest. It should have been a comfort, this room. Once it had been. But now its quiet corners and heavy drapes felt suffocating, its walls tightening around you with every passing hour.

You clenched your fists, the delicate fabric crumpling beneath your trembling hands. Tears welled, spilling before you could stop them, tracing hot, aching paths down your cheeks. You couldn’t stem the tide, nor did you try. The gown bore the stain of your despair, but it was nothing compared to the jagged wound that bled unseen within.

The whispers were always there, clinging to the edges of your thoughts no matter how desperately you tried to banish them. They were cruel and unyielding, slipping into every quiet moment, lurking in the shadows of your mind. Their voices were soft but sharp, cutting deeper with every repetition. You should have done more. You should have been stronger. You should have saved him. This is your fault.

They weren’t Cregan’s words, nor the maester’s, nor anyone else’s. They belonged to you, born from the hollow ache in your chest and the guilt that had taken root there. They poured through your mind like a poison, insidious and unrelenting, twisting everything they touched. You could almost hear them in the silence of the room, louder than the crackle of a distant hearth or the sigh of wind through Winterfell’s ancient walls.

No matter how tightly you closed your eyes, no matter how fiercely you tried to silence them, they persisted—a constant, merciless drumbeat. Each word struck like a blow, reverberating through your body, the weight of them pressing down on your chest until you could barely breathe. The air felt thinner with every beat, as though the whispers were siphoning it away, leaving you gasping in the darkness.

You tried to fight them, tried to find some small thread of reason to grasp onto, but they always returned, louder and sharper than before. And the worst part was, some part of you believed them. You clung to the guilt like a lifeline, as though holding yourself accountable might make the loss hurt less. It didn’t. It only sank you deeper into the suffocating pit that you couldn’t seem to climb out of.

They weren’t just whispers. They were chains, binding you to the pain, and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t make them let go.

The knock shattered the oppressive silence, a sharp, jarring sound that cut through you like a blade of winter air. For a moment, you froze, the sudden noise startling you out of the haze that had enveloped you for days. The weight in the room, in your chest, had been so heavy, so all-encompassing, that you’d almost forgotten the world outside existed. The knock was a cruel reminder that it did, and that it still demanded something of you.

You stiffened, every muscle tightening as though bracing for an unseen blow. Your breath hitched, thick and shallow, your throat closing as if even the act of breathing might betray you. You didn’t want to answer. You couldn’t. What could you say to him? What could you possibly offer, except more of this broken, hollow shell of yourself?

The knock came again, softer this time, a gentler plea that only seemed to make the silence more suffocating. And then his voice followed, threading through the stillness. The voice you had once found so reassuring, so unshakably warm, now felt like a ghost of itself—steady, deep, but laced with something unfamiliar. Fragility. Desperation.

“It’s me,” Cregan said, his words low, insistent. There was a trembling edge to his tone, a quiet urgency that twisted in your chest. “Please, my love. Let me in.”

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through you, tightening around your throat like a vice. You clenched your hands in your lap, your nails pressing into your palms, the sharp sting grounding you in the only way you could manage. The guilt, the grief, the weight of it all threatened to crack you open. If you could just keep still, hold yourself together for one more moment, perhaps the pieces wouldn’t scatter completely.

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to answer him. You didn’t know how to let him in—not into the room, not into the space where your grief lay raw and unguarded. He hadn’t come before. Or maybe he had, and you had been too lost to hear him, too consumed by the darkness to recognize the sound of his voice. You didn’t know which possibility was worse—that he had stayed away, honoring the space you had begged for, or that he had tried and failed to reach you.

Neither was kind. Neither was something you could bear.

His knock had stirred something inside you, but it wasn’t hope. It was the sharp, aching reminder of how much you had pushed him away—and how much you had wanted to. Because if he saw you like this, if he saw how fractured you had become, you weren’t sure you could survive it. And yet, even as you tried to steel yourself against the sound of his voice, it lingered, wrapping around you, pulling at the frayed edges of the wall you had built between you.

“I’ll wait as long as I need to,” Cregan’s voice broke through the silence, quiet yet unyielding, like the steady strength of the man you had once leaned on without hesitation. “I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

His words were meant to soothe, to offer comfort, but they only deepened the ache in your chest. The tenderness in his tone was unbearable, like a hand reaching out to touch a wound too raw to bear. The sting behind your eyes flared, tears threatening to spill over once more. But you refused to let them fall. Not again.

You had cried enough—alone, in the suffocating stillness of the night, when the walls of Winterfell seemed to close in and the weight of your loss crushed you in the darkness. You had let the tears fall in those moments when no one could see, when no one could judge you for the depth of your grief. What good had they done? They had left you feeling even emptier, as though each tear carried away a piece of yourself until there was nothing left.

What would tears accomplish now? They couldn’t undo the pain that had carved itself into your soul. They couldn’t bring back what you had lost, couldn’t fill the gaping void that echoed inside you. They wouldn’t erase the crushing guilt that clung to every breath you took, whispering that you should have been stronger, that you should have done more.

The words you longed to say lodged in your throat, trapped beneath the weight of your grief. Cregan’s steady presence was a balm, but it felt undeserved—a kindness you couldn’t allow yourself to accept. The part of you that ached to let him in warred with the part that wanted to push him away, to protect him from the broken, fractured pieces you had become.

But still, he waited. And still, you remained silent, the battle within you raging on.

The door remained closed, an unyielding barrier between you and Cregan, the space between you stretching into an insurmountable chasm. Your lips stayed pressed tightly together, as if the very act of speaking would shatter the fragile hold you had on yourself. Words felt dangerous, too revealing, too raw. So, you stayed still, frozen in the quiet, every part of you locked in place. You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t respond.

Maybe if you stayed silent, he would leave. Maybe if you sank deep enough into the well of your grief, the guilt would loosen its grip on your chest. Maybe if you let the silence consume you entirely, the pain would finally relent. But even as the thoughts flitted through your mind, you knew they were lies. The grief, the guilt, the unbearable ache in your chest—they weren’t things you could escape. They were woven into you now, so tightly that nothing—not time, not distance, not even silence—could unravel them.

Deep down, you knew nothing would ever be the same again. The fragile thread of hope that had once connected you to the world had snapped, leaving you untethered, adrift. No amount of hiding, no fortress of silence, could change that.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, pressing against you like the cold that had seeped into your very bones. It wrapped itself around you, a crushing weight that left no room for breath or thought. It wasn’t just in the room—it was in you, winding through every broken part of yourself.

Cregan’s steps broke the stillness, each one deliberate, careful, as though he feared his presence might break you further. The sound of his boots against the stone was soft, almost hesitant, but it still felt too loud, too intrusive in the suffocating quiet. He was close now. You could feel his steady presence, warm and grounding, even through the chasm you had built between you.

But still, you didn’t move. You didn’t turn to meet his gaze, didn’t even lift your head. Your heart was too heavy, weighed down by guilt and sorrow so profound it felt like a physical ache. You couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him, of letting him see what you had become—shattered, broken, unrecognizable even to yourself.

You were afraid. Afraid of what he might say. Afraid of the gentleness you might hear in his voice, the love you might see in his eyes, when you felt you deserved neither. Afraid that if he saw you like this, saw the depth of your ruin, he might try to put you back together. And you weren’t sure you could survive being pieced back together only to fall apart again.

He paused, his boots just inside the door, hesitating as though waiting for you to make the decision he couldn’t. As though he wasn’t sure if crossing the distance you had carved between you would help—or only deepen the divide. The silence between you was palpable, stretching wide and unyielding, a vast chasm neither of you knew how to bridge. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the entire world was holding its breath, caught in this fragile, suspended moment.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped forward. Just one step, careful and deliberate, the sound soft against the stone floor but carrying a weight that echoed in the quiet. His presence, once a comfort you had never thought to question, now felt too close and yet too far all at once. He moved with a kind of reverence, each step slow and measured, as though approaching something sacred—and fragile.

It was almost unbearable, the way he moved toward you as if you were still the woman he had once known. As if you hadn’t been hollowed out, stripped of the light you had carried, replaced by a grief so consuming it felt like you were drowning. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t dare. But you felt him, his quiet strength radiating through the cold space, the air between you shifting, growing warmer as he drew closer.

“My love…” His voice was soft, a gentle murmur that carried through the silence like the brush of a hand against frayed fabric. There was a weight to his words, though—something raw and aching, unspoken but undeniable. His concern was threaded through every syllable, tangled with the love he couldn’t seem to put into words. It was the kind of love that refused to be turned away, no matter how fiercely you tried to shut it out.

Still, you didn’t answer. You didn’t even turn toward him. Your eyes stayed fixed on the floor, unblinking, unseeing, your breath shallow and uneven as if even acknowledging him might break the fragile hold you had on yourself.

But his presence pressed gently against the edges of your grief, like a tide brushing against jagged rocks, refusing to retreat. You couldn’t face him, couldn’t let him see the ruin you felt you had become. To turn to him would mean letting him see the cracks, the unbearable weight of your sorrow—and you didn’t know if you could survive his gaze.

Your gaze remained fixed on the frosted window, your eyes tracing the jagged, crystalline patterns of ice etched into the glass. They spread like fractures, distorting the world beyond into blurred shapes and muted shadows. The courtyard below lay buried beneath a thick blanket of snow, its stark silence mirroring the hollow stillness inside you. It looked untouched, serene, as though the world itself had withdrawn, retreating from the weight of your grief. But the chill that gripped you had nothing to do with the winter outside.

This cold was deeper, more insidious. It had rooted itself in your chest, in the fragile places you had once protected. No fire, no warmth, could touch it. It wasn’t a chill of the skin but of the soul, spreading through every part of you, leaving you numb yet unbearably aware of the ache it carried.

Your fingers moved restlessly, pale and trembling as they tugged at the fabric of your gown. The motion was small, unconscious, but relentless. You picked at loose threads and seams, tearing at the delicate material with a quiet desperation. It was all you could do. The stillness of your body demanded an outlet, something to echo the storm raging within you. Each thread pulled free, each tiny rip in the fabric, felt like a hollow attempt to give shape to the suffocating emotions you couldn’t put into words.

You couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. The motion kept the grief from swallowing you whole, even as it frayed the edges of your gown. The tears in the fabric mirrored the fissures in your heart, small and splintering, growing with every passing moment.

Each movement, each tug, was a silent rebellion against the unbearable weight that threatened to crush you. The storm inside you had no outlet, no escape, and the restless motion of your hands was the only way to keep from falling apart completely. Rest felt impossible. Stillness only amplified the ache, the sharp-edged sorrow that had taken over every part of you. Rest would mean surrendering to it, drowning in the pain you weren’t sure you could survive. And so, you tore at the fabric, as though unraveling it might somehow loosen the tight grip of grief around your chest.

But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

Cregan didn’t press you, though his silence was as heavy as the grief that hung between you. He didn’t demand answers, didn’t push for words you weren’t ready to give. Instead, he moved closer, his footsteps slow and measured, each one deliberate, as though the air itself might break beneath the weight of his approach. It was as if he were walking through a fragile dream, afraid that one wrong step might shatter it entirely.

Each careful step spoke of his restraint, his quiet struggle to respect the space you had carved out for yourself, even as it tore at him to see you like this. To see the woman he loved, his steadfast, fierce-hearted wife, lost in a pain so profound that even the strength of his presence couldn’t seem to reach her.

He stopped a few paces away, his form solid and steady against the shadows that filled the room. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching again between you, an invisible barrier neither of you knew how to cross. And then, his voice came again, softer this time, carrying a tenderness that wrapped around you like a quiet plea.

“I know you’re in pain,” he murmured, his words low, heavy with the weight of his own helplessness. The emotion in his voice twisted in your chest, each word landing with quiet precision, like drops of water against a stone worn thin. “But I can’t help you if you won’t let me in.”

The pause that followed was almost unbearable, his voice trembling just slightly as he added, “Please, look at me.”

The plea lingered in the air, hanging between you like a fragile bridge you weren’t sure you could cross. His words carried no demand, only a quiet yearning, a love so raw it pressed against the edges of your sorrow, threatening to unravel the fragile defenses you had built around yourself. But you stayed where you were, frozen, your gaze locked on the frost-covered window, as though the jagged patterns of ice could hold you together in a way that his love couldn’t.

You didn’t move. His words reached for you, a lifeline cast across the vast, aching distance between you, but you couldn’t take it. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t let him see the broken pieces of who you had once been. Not when those fragments felt so sharp, so jagged, that even you couldn’t bear to look at them. The woman who had once stood beside him, who had promised him a future filled with light and hope, was gone. In her place was this hollow shell, weighed down by grief so consuming it left no room for anything else.

Your hands fell still in your lap, the nervous fidgeting replaced by an unnatural rigidity, as though any movement might crack the fragile dam holding everything inside. You stared down at your trembling fingers, clutching at the fabric of your gown not to tear it, but to stop them from betraying you further. The storm within you churned violently, and the stillness felt like the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe, hard to think. It wrapped around you like a vice, pulling you deeper into yourself, away from the voice that tried to reach you.

The air between you felt heavier with each passing second, thick with unspoken words and the weight of all you couldn’t bring yourself to say. It pressed down on you, isolating you further, trapping you in this cocoon of silence where your grief felt too vast to share, too all-encompassing to explain.

You could feel Cregan’s presence, his unwavering patience like a quiet flame, waiting for you to let him in. But that only made the guilt burrow deeper, sharper, as though it might carve you out completely. He was waiting for you to open the door you had closed so tightly, waiting to shoulder the pain you were too afraid to show. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t let him see you like this—shattered, hollow, and drowning in the sharp edges of your grief. If you turned to him now, if you let him see the raw ruin of what you’d become, you weren’t sure you could survive it. And so, you sat there, silent and unmoving, unable to cross the distance that had grown between you.

Your shoulders trembled, the motion small at first, barely noticeable, before it grew into a tremor that rippled through your entire body. Without warning, your head dropped, your face cradled in your trembling hands. The tears that had lingered just beneath the surface for so long finally broke free, spilling over in a torrent that you couldn’t stop. They came hot and unrelenting, each one carving a path down your cheeks, a relentless reminder of just how much you had lost.

You tried to stifle them, swallowing sobs that clawed their way up your throat, desperate to hold onto some semblance of control. But the tears came anyway, unchecked and unforgiving, a flood that swept away the fragile walls you had tried so hard to build. The warmth of them against your skin felt like a cruel mockery, a vivid contrast to the hollow, icy ache in your chest. You resented them—resented how powerless they made you feel, how impossible it was to push them back, to push any of it away.

You couldn’t. The grief was too deep, too consuming. It wrapped around you like a tide, pulling you under, dragging you further and further away from everything you had once been.

Behind you, Cregan watched, his gaze softening as his heart broke for you in ways he could neither stop nor fully understand. He stood frozen, torn between the overwhelming need to comfort you and the fear that his touch might only deepen the chasm that stretched between you. The sight of your shoulders trembling, of your body folding in on itself as though the weight of your sorrow was too much to bear, left him helpless.

He had always been your shield, your steady foundation, but now he could do nothing but stand there, watching as the woman he loved was consumed by a pain he couldn’t ease. It was a kind of helplessness he hadn’t known before—a sharp, piercing ache that left him stranded on the other side of the distance you had placed between you.

He wanted to reach for you, to do anything to pull you from the storm that raged inside you. But every tear that fell, every breath that shuddered through your frame, seemed to widen the gulf between you both. It felt as vast as an ocean, deep and unbridgeable, leaving him stranded and uncertain, his love for you a light that couldn’t yet pierce the darkness of your grief.

He moved toward you, each step slow and deliberate, as though afraid that even the slightest misstep might shatter the fragile thread tethering you both. The air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and the raw ache of your grief, but he pressed on, his presence steady and unyielding.

When he reached you, he didn’t speak. Words would have felt too small, too inadequate. Instead, he sank to his knees beside the chair, his movements careful, reverent, as though kneeling at an altar. His presence alone was a quiet comfort, a steady flame in the storm of emotions that had consumed you.

His hand reached out, large and calloused, yet impossibly gentle as his fingers brushed against the delicate skin of your trembling hand. His touch was grounding, warm, and steady—a reminder of the life that continued outside the walls of your sorrow. He didn’t force you to respond, didn’t demand anything from you. His hand simply rested over yours, offering a quiet strength that asked for nothing in return.

The restless motions of your hands stilled beneath his touch, the anxious picking at your gown coming to a halt as his warmth seeped into your skin. It wasn’t much—just the smallest of shifts—but it was enough. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the unbearable weight of your grief seemed to loosen, if only by the slightest degree.

It was as though his presence alone could hold some of the pieces of you that had fallen apart, his touch a silent promise that you didn’t have to bear the weight of your sorrow alone. But still, the distance between your heart and his felt vast, the walls of your grief too high to climb. And yet, his quiet persistence, his unwavering love, pressed gently against those walls, searching for a way in.

“Let me be here for you,” Cregan said quietly, his voice a low murmur that carried more weight than the loudest declaration ever could. There was a raw tenderness in his tone, so unguarded and sincere that it pierced straight through you, cutting past the walls you had so carefully constructed around your grief. His words were a balm, gentle against the fractured pieces of your heart, but they also undid you, unraveling the fragile composure you had clung to.

The echo of his voice lingered in the heavy silence, filling the space between you with a quiet plea that wrapped around you, impossible to ignore. Each word was steeped in a love so deep, so unshakable, that it made your chest ache with its enormity. A breath caught in your throat, sharp and jagged, as the storm inside you began to crack open.

Before you could stop it, a sob clawed its way out, raw and ragged, tearing through the stillness. You tried to fight it, to swallow the sound of your brokenness, to hold on to what little control you thought you had left. But it was too much. The weight of it all—the loss, the guilt, the unbearable isolation—pressed down on you with crushing force, and you were helpless against the tide.

Your chest constricted, each breath uneven and shallow as the cry escaped you, desperate and guttural. It shook you to your core, your entire body trembling under the force of the emotion that had been building, unrelenting, inside you. The sobs came like waves, relentless and consuming, each one pulling you deeper into the grief you had tried so hard to bury.

And yet, through it all, Cregan stayed. His presence didn’t waver, his quiet strength anchoring you even as you fell apart. His hand remained steady over yours, grounding you against the tempest within, silently reminding you that you weren’t alone—even when it felt like the weight of the world rested entirely on your shoulders.

“I’m here,” he repeated, his voice a balm against the deep, raw wound carved into your soul. The words were so simple, yet they carried a tenderness that made your heart ache even more. His free hand rose slowly, his fingers brushing the damp strands of hair from your face with the lightest touch. His fingertips grazed your skin like a soft whisper, gentle yet steady, a silent promise in every motion. He wasn’t going anywhere. He would stay, even as you unraveled before him.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he said softly, his voice unwavering, even as the weight of your sorrow seemed to hang heavy in the air between you.

You didn’t respond. His words settled around you, warm and grounding, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. There were no words left, no explanations to give, no answers to offer. Only the tears that fell, unrelenting now, streaking down your face like a flood that had been held back for far too long.

The dam inside you had finally burst, and the grief poured out in waves, racking your frame with sobs so raw they felt as though they were tearing you apart. Each shuddering breath brought fresh pain, the ache you had buried beneath layers of guilt and restraint now laid bare. It was unbearable, and yet, in this moment, you didn’t try to stop it. For the first time, you let yourself feel the full weight of the loss, the overwhelming ache that had been clawing at you from the inside out.

And through it all, Cregan stayed. His presence didn’t falter, didn’t try to pull you from the depths of your grief. He didn’t offer empty reassurances or platitudes meant to fix what couldn’t be repaired. Instead, he stayed steady, his hand a constant anchor against the storm inside you, his touch firm yet gentle. He held you in your brokenness, without expectation, without judgment, simply letting you break.

For the first time, the room didn’t feel suffocating. The walls that had seemed to close in on you, threatening to crush you beneath their weight, now felt less oppressive. The silence wasn’t a void anymore; it was filled with something warm, something alive. His presence was like a steady flame in the cold, a quiet reassurance that you didn’t have to carry this alone—not in this moment, at least.

And for the first time, you felt the faintest flicker of relief. It wasn’t enough to banish the grief, not even close, but it made the unbearable weight just a little easier to carry. For this fleeting moment, you weren’t drowning alone.

Cregan watched you as you wept, his heart breaking with every sob that tore from your chest. Each tremor that shook you felt like a blow to him, a pain he couldn’t bear to see yet refused to turn away from. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak. He simply stayed, his presence steady and unwavering, a quiet anchor in the storm of your grief.

His hand remained gently over yours, grounding you without words, offering a silent reassurance that you hadn’t asked for but desperately needed. His touch, so steady and sure, was a lifeline in the chaos of your emotions, speaking the things he didn’t need to say aloud: I’m here. You’re not alone.

As your sobs began to slow, the tears that had flowed so freely now reduced to quiet streams, Cregan shifted slightly. His hand lifted from yours, the motion so soft it felt like a whisper. And yet, there was an undeniable strength in it, a quiet promise that he wasn’t leaving, that he wasn’t going to let you fall alone.

“Come on, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a balm against the raw ache in your chest. The words, though simple, carried a weight of their own—love, patience, and an unshakable tenderness that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

He didn’t rush you. He didn’t pull you from the chair or try to force you to move before you were ready. Instead, he stayed close, his presence a steady flame against the cold emptiness that had consumed you. Every quiet movement, every gentle word, was filled with care. He was waiting—not for you to be whole, not for the grief to pass, but simply for you to take the next breath, the next small step forward.

Cregan felt it all—the weight of everything you had been carrying, the unbearable burden that had pressed down on you for days. He felt the tremble in your body, the exhaustion etched into every line of your frame, and the grief that seemed to radiate from you like a storm that refused to pass. It was heavy, but he bore it willingly, silently vowing to carry it with you, no matter how long it took, no matter how much of himself it demanded.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with concern, each word carrying the weight of the thousand unspoken emotions he didn’t know how to name. There was no rush in his tone, no expectation—only a gentle insistence, a quiet plea wrapped in love.

His hand stayed firm against your back as he guided you across the room, his movements slow and deliberate, each step careful, as though afraid that anything too sudden might undo the fragile calm that had begun to settle between you. His touch was steady, grounding, a tether to hold onto as the overwhelming weight of your grief threatened to pull you under again.

When you finally reached the bed, he guided you to sit, his movements steady yet hesitant, as though reluctant to step away. His hand brushed lightly over your shoulder, the touch brief but deliberate—a fleeting attempt to offer something words couldn’t convey. But as his eyes lingered on you, seated and so visibly burdened by your grief, something shifted in him. It wasn’t pity—it was a deep ache, an unspoken understanding that settled heavily in his chest.

He forced himself to take a step back, his instincts warring with his restraint. He wanted to stay close, but he knew this moment wasn’t about him. You needed space, even if only enough to draw a breath, to navigate the depths of what weighed on you without intrusion.

“I’ll be right back,” Cregan said softly, his voice low, a quiet murmur that carried more emotion than he could name. His gaze flickered to you, filled with a concern so raw it nearly stopped him in his tracks. “I’ll have a bath prepared. You need to rest—and take care of yourself.”

You didn’t answer. There were no words left, only the faint hum of your breath as you sat still, your hands resting in your lap. As he turned, the smallest movement caught his eye—a barely perceptible nod, as fragile as the first stirrings of a winter thaw.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it spoke volumes. It wasn’t permission, nor surrender, but something quieter. A thread of trust, unspoken but present. And though the gesture was small, it was enough for him to continue, his steps quiet but purposeful as he left the room to prepare what was needed.

As Cregan stepped toward the door, the soft click of the handle as it closed behind him seemed to echo through the room, sharp and final. The sound sliced through the oppressive stillness like a cold wind cutting across bare skin. For a fleeting moment, everything seemed to hold its breath. The door’s finality hung in the air, and with it, an even deeper silence settled around you.

The space he left behind felt vast, as though the room itself had stretched in his absence, a yawning chasm you couldn’t cross. You slumped against the headboard, your body sinking further into the mattress, drained of the strength to do anything but exist in the quiet. The exhaustion in your bones was total, a kind of weariness that no amount of sleep could touch.

You had hoped for peace in the quiet, but it wasn’t peace that came. It was weight—heavy, stifling, pressing down on your chest, pinning you to the bed. The room around you seemed to breathe with the creak of old wood beneath you, a low, familiar groan that filled the silence alongside the soft hum of your own breath. And yet, none of it filled the aching void that stretched endlessly inside you.

It wasn’t that you wanted Cregan to return. His presence couldn’t undo what had been broken, couldn’t turn back time or mend the wound that had hollowed you out. But his absence carried its own kind of pain, sharp and relentless, a reminder that life would never return to what it had once been.

Still, you stayed where you were, motionless, surrendering to the stillness that wrapped around you. The weight pulled you deeper, like a tide dragging you under, but you couldn’t summon the energy to fight it. Your body was too tired, your mind too spent, and so you simply let yourself sink into the waiting quiet, waiting for nothing in particular, only the endless passing of time.

Cregan’s footsteps echoed through the stone corridor, quick and determined. The chill of Winterfell’s air was sharp, seeping through the heavy walls, but he barely noticed it. His thoughts were focused elsewhere, running over what needed to be done and how little he could seem to do to ease the storm inside you. Each step carried the weight of his resolve, even as his chest tightened with the ache of seeing you as you were—exhausted, hollow, a shadow of the woman who had once met life with unshakable strength.

He reached the servants’ quarters, his broad frame filling the doorway as his voice broke the relative quiet of the space. “Prepare a bath,” he ordered, his tone low but firm, brooking no hesitation. “And make sure it’s hot. Bring fresh linens, too.” He paused for a moment, his hand pressing briefly against the rough stone wall beside him as he steadied himself. “And food,” he added, glancing between the startled faces of the servants. “Simple, but warm—and enough to sustain her.”

The urgency in his voice was tempered by the restraint he’d forced upon himself. He didn’t bark the commands, but the sharp edges of his words made it clear how quickly he expected them to act. The servants, accustomed to the steady, measured demeanor of their lord, exchanged quick glances before hurrying to carry out his instructions.

Cregan lingered for a moment as the scurry of footsteps and murmured acknowledgments faded down the hall. He stayed still, his hand curling into a loose fist at his side, his breathing measured but heavy. The weight of the past days bore down on him like the snowdrifts against Winterfell’s walls. He could feel the strain of it in his chest, in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ached from holding his emotions in check.

He replayed the image of you sitting on the edge of the bed, your shoulders slumped under a grief that seemed to consume you whole. The tremble in your hands, the distant look in your eyes—it was enough to twist something deep inside him, a pain he couldn’t name and couldn’t shake. But he couldn’t allow himself to falter. Not now.

Straightening, he turned on his heel, his boots striking the floor with purpose as he made his way back through the dimly lit corridors. His thoughts remained focused, calculating what else could be done to make this moment, this night, a little less unbearable for you. He couldn’t take away the grief or the pain, but he could ease the harsh edges of it, if only for a little while.

When he passed another servant, he stopped briefly, his voice softer but no less insistent. “Make sure there’s firewood brought to the hearth. I want the chamber warm.” The servant nodded quickly, moving to comply, and Cregan pressed forward, his steps quickening as the ache in his chest deepened.

As he neared the door to your chambers, his hand brushed the rough stone of the wall beside him, grounding himself in its cool solidity. He paused for the briefest of moments, drawing in a breath to steady the emotions that threatened to spill over. The bath would be ready soon, the food prepared and brought, but none of that felt like enough.

Nothing ever felt like enough.

With one final breath, he opened the door quietly, stepping back into the room where you waited, fragile and silent, the weight of your grief filling the air. He didn’t say a word as he crossed the threshold, his steps careful, his presence steady, bringing with him what little he could offer.

The servants were already hard at work preparing the bath, their quiet movements echoing softly in the background, but none of it mattered to Cregan. His eyes found you the moment he stepped into the room, and the sight of you—the broken posture, your head bowed, shoulders slumped—made his breath hitch in his chest.

You sat so still, as though the grief had hollowed you out and left only a fragile shell in its place. Your movements were barely there, faint and withdrawn, blending into the dim shadows that seemed to wrap around you like a second skin. To him, it felt as though you were slipping further away, piece by piece, retreating into a darkness he couldn’t fully reach.

Cregan didn’t speak right away. He didn’t ask you to move, didn’t press you for words or force you to acknowledge him. The silence in the room was heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, but it was yours. It was the only thing you had chosen in days, and he would respect it, even as it clawed at his chest to see you like this.

But respect didn’t mean standing idly by.

He stepped toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, each one measured with a care that spoke of his understanding. Your pain was something fragile, delicate, and he approached as though the wrong move might fracture the brittle calm you had managed to hold onto. When he reached you, he knelt down beside the bed, lowering himself to your level.

His hand extended toward yours, palm up—a quiet offering, an invitation to let him in, to let him share some small part of the burden you carried. His fingers lingered, close enough to touch but not forcing contact, allowing you the choice to accept or reject the gesture.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with a quiet but unshakable determination. Each word was gentle but carried the full weight of his resolve. He wasn’t asking for much; he wasn’t asking for words or answers. He was simply offering himself.

“I’m not leaving, love,” he continued, his tone soft but firm, the steadiness of it cutting through the stillness. “Not until you’re taken care of.”

There was no flourish to his words, no attempt to dress them up. He had never been a man of many words, but the ones he chose always carried meaning, each syllable weighted with purpose. He couldn’t fix what had been broken, couldn’t mend the wound that had torn through you, but he could do this. He could stay. He could make sure you were cared for, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to do it alone.

His hand stayed where it was, steady and patient, waiting for you to decide.

His words lingered in the air, their quiet warmth brushing against the edges of your sorrow. Cregan didn’t press you, didn’t rush you to respond. Instead, he simply stayed where he was, his steady presence a quiet assurance that you wouldn’t be left adrift in this moment.

After a few breaths, he gently helped you to your feet, his hand firm at your back as he guided you toward the chair by the hearth. “Let’s sit here for a while,” he murmured, his tone calm and patient, as though the rest of the world could wait.

The flames in the hearth flickered faintly, their light casting soft shadows across the walls. You sank into the chair with a heaviness that seemed to seep into your very bones, your gaze falling to the fire as it crackled softly. The minutes stretched on in silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old floorboards and the muffled sounds of the servants working quietly in the background.

The faint hum of their activity filtered through the stillness. Logs were added to the hearth, the fire growing brighter and stronger, its warmth beginning to fill the room. The linens on the bed were stripped and replaced with fresh ones, their crisp folds smoothed with precision. The rhythmic sound of water being poured into the bath drifted faintly from the adjoining room, mingling with the scent of lavender as steam curled softly into the air.

Time passed slowly, each moment marked by the subtle changes around you. The room grew warmer, the air lighter, as the servants completed their tasks and slipped out with quiet efficiency. Through it all, Cregan remained close, his movements purposeful but unhurried, his gaze flicking to you every so often to ensure you were still with him, still grounded.

When everything was ready, he returned to your side, crouching down beside you. His hand found yours again, his touch steady and sure as he said, “The bath is ready.”

With deliberate care, he helped you to your feet once more. Each step toward the steaming tub was slow, measured, and supported by his arm at your back, his presence grounding you as you moved forward. The weight of exhaustion still clung to you, but the quiet warmth of the room and the promise of rest seemed just within reach.

The room was a haven of comfort, a stark contrast to the cold, oppressive silence that had held you captive for so long. Flickering candlelight danced across the stone walls, casting soft, shifting shadows that softened the room’s edges. The gentle sound of water filling the bath added a steady rhythm to the quiet, a soothing backdrop that eased the weight pressing against your chest. The warmth of the room wrapped around you like a long-forgotten embrace, the promise of relief so close you could almost feel it seeping into your bones.

But it wasn’t just the room that brought this fragile sense of solace. What truly began to thaw the ice that had settled in your heart was Cregan. His presence, steady and grounding, was a force that anchored you without demand or expectation. His eyes, unwavering and filled with a tenderness you hadn’t thought yourself capable of receiving, never left you as he guided you forward. Every movement he made carried with it a quiet purpose, an unspoken promise that you were not alone in this moment.

When you reached the edge of the bath, Cregan’s hand was firm yet gentle against your back, steadying you as you lowered yourself into the water. He moved with the same deliberate care, as though the slightest misstep might shatter the fragile calm that had begun to form around you. The warmth of the water enveloped you immediately, wrapping around your tired body like a soft, tender embrace. The heat seeped into your aching muscles, melting away the tension that had clung to you for days, while the chill rooted in your skin seemed to dissolve into the bath.

Yet, even as the water soothed you, it was Cregan’s presence that truly began to untangle the knot in your chest. His quiet care, his unwavering devotion, and the unspoken promise in his every action brought with them a peace you hadn’t known in what felt like a lifetime.

As you soaked in the warm water, something deep within you began to shift. The tears you’d been holding at bay for so long finally began to fall again. But this time, they were different. They weren’t the sharp, jagged tears of grief that had torn through you in your solitude. These were softer, quieter—tears of relief, of release. They came hesitantly at first, as though testing the safety of the space around you, before flowing freely in an unbroken stream. It was as if the warmth of the water and the quiet strength of Cregan’s presence had unlocked something within you, giving you permission to let go of the pain you had carried for so long.

Cregan didn’t speak as you cried. He didn’t try to comfort you with words or fill the silence with empty platitudes. Instead, his hand rested gently on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady, an anchor amidst the wave of emotions overtaking you. His silence was filled with understanding, speaking louder than anything he could have said.

Cregan moved with deliberate care, his touch light but steady, as though the very act of tending to you required all the patience and gentleness he could muster. He reached for the soft cloth resting at the edge of the tub, dipping it into the warm water before wringing it out with precise, measured motions. His movements were purposeful, each one imbued with the quiet reverence he reserved for the things that mattered most to him—things that needed protecting, things that needed care. And in this moment, nothing mattered more to him than you.

You sat there, unmoving, as though the water had become an extension of the emptiness within you. It felt as though you had become hollow, a presence without weight, without purpose. Your eyes, distant and unfocused, stared into the space beyond the water, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. The grief had settled so deep within you that it had worn you down to a mere shadow of the woman you once were. The person who used to laugh freely, who found joy in the smallest of moments, felt so far removed from you now. It was as though the agony had stolen her away, leaving only an echo, faint and fragile, drifting somewhere beyond your reach.

Cregan’s movements didn’t falter, even as he watched the faint tremble in your hands, the distant look in your eyes. He began at your shoulders, the warm cloth brushing over your skin in soft, soothing strokes. His hand followed the curve of your neck, careful and unhurried, as though afraid that anything more abrupt might fracture the fragile calm around you. The heat of the water and the rhythm of his touch seemed to melt some of the tension in your body, loosening the weight that clung to you, though you still felt adrift.

The silence between you remained unbroken, filled only with the faint crackle of the fire and the soft ripple of water. It wasn’t oppressive; it was gentle, a quiet space where words weren’t needed. Cregan’s hands, rough from years of work yet impossibly tender now, moved down your arm, washing away not just the remnants of the day but the faint traces of neglect that marked your solitude.

When he reached your hands, he paused, his fingers brushing over the places where anxious picking had left their mark. His thumb lingered on those faint lines, his touch featherlight, as if trying to soothe both the physical signs of your grief and the deeper wounds that lay unseen.

He continued with the same deliberate attention, his focus unbroken. The cloth moved down your back, across your legs, each motion slow and purposeful, as though he understood that rushing would rob this moment of its meaning. This wasn’t just about cleansing your body—it was about showing you, without words, that you were still cared for, still seen, even in your most broken state.

As he finished, he set the cloth aside, his hand lingering at the edge of the tub for a moment. His gaze softened as he looked at you, his expression full of unspoken tenderness. “Take your time,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, a quiet reminder that there was no need to rush, no expectation beyond this moment.

And as the warmth of the water embraced you and the quiet intimacy of his care settled around you, the faintest flicker of something stirred within. It wasn’t enough to mend the hollow ache or restore the woman you once were, but it was a start. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of your grief wasn’t all-consuming. In the stillness, in the warmth of the water and the strength of Cregan’s presence, you felt a fragile sense of being held—not by words, but by the simple, steadfast care of someone who refused to let you drift away.

You opened your mouth, desperate to speak, to give voice to the storm tearing through you. But the words wouldn’t come. They caught in your throat, heavy and sharp, refusing to escape no matter how much you willed them to. Every syllable you might have spoken was swallowed by the weight of everything you carried inside—the guilt, the loss, the crushing sense that you had failed not just yourself, but everyone who had ever cared for you.

Your chest tightened, the pressure rising until it felt as though you might shatter under it. Your lips closed again, trembling as the turmoil inside you deepened, the ache in your heart becoming more unbearable with every passing second. The silence stretched on, not a reprieve, but an oppressive reminder of how the words remained out of reach, leaving you trapped, drowning in the depths of your own sorrow.

Cregan, kneeling beside you, felt the subtle shift in your body—the faint tremble of your shoulders, the way your breaths grew shallow and uneven, as though your grief threatened to tear you apart from the inside out. He paused, his hands still resting gently on your back, not pressing, not rushing, but simply waiting. He gave you the space to feel, to process the rawness of the emotions tearing through you, even if you couldn’t find the words to name them.

The room was still, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the soft rhythm of your breathing. The quiet wasn’t empty; it was filled with the weight of your sorrow, heavy and palpable in the air between you. Cregan’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his dark eyes steady and filled with a resolve that didn’t waver.

It was as though, in that silence, he was speaking to you without words, telling you that it was okay to feel this, okay to break. His presence didn’t demand anything of you—there was no impatience, no expectation. Only the quiet assurance that no matter how many tears you shed, no matter how fractured you felt, he would stay.

His hands, roughened from years of labor but impossibly gentle now, remained steady on your back, offering a constant, grounding support. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply stayed, his warmth a quiet contrast to the storm raging within you.

Without a word, Cregan reached for the towel resting beside the tub. His movements were deliberate, his hands steady as he prepared to help you. He extended his hand, firm but careful, guiding you to stand. The water rippled softly as you rose, the warmth slipping away as cool air wrapped around you. Without hesitation, Cregan wrapped the towel around your shoulders, covering you fully before helping you step onto the soft rug beside the tub.

He led you to the nearby stool, lowering you gently into the seat. The towel stayed draped around you as he knelt and began drying you, his hands purposeful and precise. Starting at your shoulders, the soft cloth moved over your skin in slow, even strokes, absorbing the water that clung to you.

He worked silently, dabbing at your arms, your back, your legs, each movement unhurried. When he reached your hands, his touch was impossibly light, the towel brushing carefully over the faint marks left behind by your anxious picking. He dried your feet last, the warmth of the towel a small barrier against the cool air around you.

Once he finished, Cregan reached for the folded nightclothes he had set aside. He unfolded the soft fabric, his hands moving with the same deliberation as he slipped the robe from your shoulders. He held the nightgown open, guiding your arms into the sleeves with gentle care. The fabric fell over you, light and soft against your skin, as he carefully smoothed it into place.

Leaning closer, he adjusted the ties at the neckline, his fingers working deftly but without haste. He paused briefly, ensuring the gown fit comfortably, before retrieving the thicker robe that lay nearby. He draped it over your shoulders, its weight heavier and warmer, securing the belt loosely at your waist.

The room was silent save for the faint crackle of the fire and the rustling of fabric. His hands lingered briefly at the edges of the robe, tucking it into place, before he stepped back. He didn’t speak, his focus solely on ensuring you were fully dressed and shielded from the cold.

You sat still, your gaze fixed downward, the weight in your chest as heavy as ever. A tear slid down your cheek, but you didn’t move to wipe it away. Another followed, your breath hitching as the sobs that had been building broke free once more, shaking your frame.

Cregan knelt again, his hands steady as he adjusted the robe around you, the simple action wordless but full of purpose. When he was done, he rose quietly, leaving the space untouched by words, as if to respect the unspoken weight of the moment. The room held only the sounds of your breathing, uneven and raw, and the faint crackle of the fire as the night stretched on.

As Cregan helped you to the bed, his movements were slow and deliberate. One hand stayed steady at your back, the other guiding you by the arm, each gesture careful, as though ensuring you wouldn’t falter. When you were finally seated, he lingered, his hand resting against you for a moment longer than necessary. His gaze flickered briefly to your face, searching for something—perhaps assurance that you were steady, perhaps something unspoken. He didn’t rise, didn’t retreat. Instead, he knelt before you, his broad frame folding quietly to the floor, his presence grounding without intrusion.

His hands reached for yours, large and warm as they wrapped gently around your trembling fingers. His touch was firm but cautious, like cradling something that had already been cracked too many times. His thumb traced over your knuckles, the slow, deliberate rhythm neither asking nor expecting anything. It was a touch that seemed to say everything he didn’t—an offering without pressure, a steadiness that didn’t waver.

The silence between you was dense, weighted by everything that had been left unsaid, yet it didn’t press for answers. The faint crackle of the fire filled the air, mingling with the sound of your uneven breaths, each inhale and exhale catching on the edge of a sob. Your hands trembled beneath his, the effort of holding yourself together visible in every small movement, threatening to break apart at any moment.

When Cregan finally released your hands, it wasn’t to leave you. He moved quietly, rising to retrieve the small plate of food that had been left on the table beside the bed. Without a word, he brought it closer, setting it gently on the mattress within your reach. His movements were careful, unhurried, as though even this simple act demanded the same precision and attention as everything else he did.

Your gaze fell to the plate, and for a long moment, you simply stared at it. Its simplicity felt almost cruel, a stark contrast to the enormity of what weighed on you. Your hands trembled in your lap, the act of reaching for the plate feeling like an impossible task. When you finally lifted your hand, it hovered uncertainly, your fingers stiff and unfamiliar as they wrapped around the fork with halting movements.

The food sat heavy on your tongue, its taste muted and distant. The mechanical act of chewing felt disconnected, each motion foreign and wrong. When you swallowed, a sharp twist gripped your chest, the weight of the action pressing against you with suffocating force. It wasn’t just the food—it was the reminder that you were still here, still breathing, still alive, when everything inside you felt hollow and undone.

A sob tore from your throat, sudden and raw, breaking the fragile quiet of the room. It came without warning, jagged and unrestrained, and with it came the tears—hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks in an unending torrent. Each one dragged something deeper, more painful, to the surface, leaving you trembling in their wake.

The plate sat untouched as your body folded in on itself, your hands gripping the edge of the bed as though it might keep you tethered to the ground. The sobs wracked through you, your breaths coming in uneven, shallow gasps, and then the words came—soft, broken, slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

“I failed him…”

The words lingered in the air, cutting and bitter. They twisted in your chest like a blade, the weight of them sharper now that they had been spoken aloud. Saying them didn’t ease the ache—it only made it heavier, more real. The truth of them pressed against you, unrelenting, as though it might suffocate you entirely.

Cregan knelt again, his movements measured as his hands returned to yours. His fingers curled around them, their warmth a quiet counterpoint to the trembling in your own. His grip was steady, firm without being constraining, and his thumb resumed its slow, deliberate strokes across your knuckles. The rhythm was calm, offering no pressure, no demand—only an unspoken reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You didn’t fail him,” he said softly, his voice low and even, the words carrying the weight of his certainty. “You loved him. That’s all anyone could ask. And I will love you through this, no matter how long it takes.”

The words hung between you, unshaken and sure. But as they reached you, they didn’t sink into the places they needed to. They echoed faintly in your mind, the edges of them dulled by the roar of guilt that refused to be silenced.

Your gaze lifted to his, and his eyes reflected nothing but tenderness, a love that was steady and unflinching. But in their reflection, all you could see was your own brokenness, your own failings laid bare. The ache in your chest twisted sharper, the weight of your perceived failure pressing harder with every breath.

And in that moment, as your heart shattered once more beneath the unbearable weight of everything you had lost, it felt as though the grief might crush you entirely. It pressed against your chest, unrelenting, a force that hollowed you out further with every passing second. The ache seemed endless, a constant presence that had carved itself so deeply into you that it felt inseparable from who you had become.

But even within the depths of that pain, there was something else—something faint yet immovable. It wasn’t hope, not exactly, nor was it solace. It was Cregan. His hands on yours, his steady presence, the quiet certainty of his care—it didn’t lessen the weight of your sorrow, but it didn’t waver either. It was simply there, an unspoken truth that remained even as the grief threatened to consume you.

It didn’t ease the ache in your chest or silence the voice in your mind that told you you’d failed. But in the pit of your broken heart, you knew his love was unyielding, something that had existed long before this moment and would remain long after. It wasn’t a cure for the grief, but it was steady, something that wouldn’t falter, no matter how deep the sorrow ran. And though you couldn’t yet bear to hold it fully, it lingered, waiting in the quiet.

Cregan sensed the shift in you before you could fully grasp it yourself. His gaze softened, the faintest flicker of understanding reflected in his eyes. He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. His hands remained steady, his touch gentle as his fingers brushed along the curve of your cheek in slow, deliberate strokes. The motion was rhythmic, unhurried, an unspoken promise that he would stay—not to fix you, not to pull you from the depths, but simply to be there, however long it took for the storm inside you to rage.

The plate of food sat nearly untouched on the bed, a quiet acknowledgment of his respect for what you needed in this moment. He made no move to bring it closer, no effort to coax you into eating before you were ready. Instead, he let it rest there, unobtrusive, as though understanding that the weight of even that small act might be too much to bear.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t cold or empty. It was a silence that held no expectations, no pressure. It was gentle, patient—a space that allowed you to exist as you were, unfiltered and raw. In that quiet, there was no demand to explain, no urgency to heal. You could simply be.

And though the grief remained sharp, unyielding in its hold, there was a small comfort in that silence, in his steady presence. It didn’t take away the ache, but it gave you permission to feel it without pretense. To sit in the heaviness of your sorrow without the burden of pretending to carry it differently..

As you sat there, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the room, the rest of the world seemed so far away. Yet the overwhelming weight of everything began to creep back in—a steady, suffocating pressure that settled heavily in your chest. The plate of food that had once felt distant now sat in front of you, an unwelcome reminder of what you had lost, of everything you hadn’t been able to protect. It wasn’t hunger that repelled you—it was what the food represented. The simple act of eating felt trivial, almost offensive, in the face of the emptiness that consumed you. The ache within you was too vast, too deep, to be touched by something so mundane.

Your hand moved almost instinctively, pushing the plate away with a motion so gentle it was barely perceptible. It wasn’t defiance or rejection—it was an admission of what you couldn’t give yourself. You couldn’t force yourself to be whole, couldn’t pretend that eating would fill the void left inside you. The untouched plate sat between you and the world, its presence quietly mocking.

Cregan sat beside the bed, his broad frame still and his posture calm, as though any sudden movement might disturb the fragile balance of the moment. His hands rested lightly on his knees, his thumbs tracing slow circles against the rough fabric of his trousers, his gaze fixed on you. He didn’t try to convince you to eat, didn’t say a word. His silence wasn’t empty—it was full of quiet understanding. There was no expectation in his eyes, no disappointment, only a steady acceptance of what you couldn’t yet bring yourself to do.

He didn’t judge you for it. There was no reproach, no impatience. His gaze, steady and unflinching, carried only a gentle acknowledgment of your pain. In the quiet of that moment, his presence eased the sharp edges of your self-doubt, not by removing them, but by offering a space where you didn’t need to fight against them. He had seen you at your strongest, at your best, and now, as he looked at you, he saw you at your most vulnerable. Even here, raw and fractured, he looked at you with the same certainty, the same unwavering care.

He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t touch you beyond the occasional flicker of his thumb brushing against your hand where it rested near your knee. Yet even without words or gestures, his presence spoke volumes. It wasn’t a love that sought to fix you or erase the weight of your sorrow. It was a love that existed without expectation, without conditions—a love that offered itself freely, regardless of how broken or fragile you felt.

Cregan’s gaze didn’t falter, even as you pushed the plate away, even as your breaths grew uneven under the weight of it all. He sat beside you, offering nothing more than the certainty of his presence, the quiet assurance that you didn’t need to be anything other than what you were. In that silence, his love wrapped around you—not as a solution, but as a quiet anchor, holding you steady when everything else felt like it might slip away.

The tears that had once flowed relentlessly began to slow, though the ache in your chest remained—a constant, gnawing presence. It wasn’t something that could be banished or fixed with time or words. It felt woven into the very fabric of your being, an ache that refused to be soothed.

Cregan rose from his seat beside the bed, his movements deliberate as he reached for the plate that sat untouched. He lifted it gently, carrying it away and placing it back on the small table with care, as though even this small act deserved respect. When he returned, his attention shifted to you. He stood quietly for a moment, his gaze steady and unhurried, silently asking for permission as he helped you lie back against the bed.

He lingered as he pulled the blanket up over you, tucking it lightly against your shoulders before stepping back. Without a word, he began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the moment demanded nothing less. Once ready, he slipped beneath the covers beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as he settled into place.

At first, Cregan didn’t reach for you. He allowed the space between you to remain, as though giving you time to decide how close you wanted him to be. When you shifted toward him, seeking his warmth, he responded without hesitation. His arm wrapped carefully around your waist, drawing you closer with quiet purpose. His chest pressed against your back, solid and steady, a barrier between you and the cold emptiness that lingered at the edges of the night.

Though the ache in your chest didn’t fade, with him beside you, it felt a little less suffocating. His presence didn’t erase the grief that had hollowed you out, but it steadied you in a way you hadn’t expected. Slowly, you began to let yourself rest, the weight of his arm and the quiet rhythm of his breath coaxing you into a fragile kind of calm.

Your forehead came to rest gently against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you. The rise and fall of his breathing guided your own, slowing the uneven rhythm that grief had imposed. His warmth surrounded you, cocooning you against the chill of sorrow that still lingered in your heart.

Cregan’s arm tightened slightly, his hand resting against your back as though shielding you from the weight of your pain. He didn’t speak or try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He simply held you, his presence unshaken, offering quiet strength without demand or expectation.

He could feel the tension in your body, the stiffness that came from holding too much inside. The way you tensed against him spoke of the struggle to keep your grief contained, as though letting it spill out would unravel you completely. He wished he could take that weight from you, even for a moment, but he didn’t ask you to let it go. Instead, he held you tighter, his warmth enveloping you, a silent shield against the sorrow that pressed so heavily upon you.

After a long stretch of stillness, Cregan’s voice broke through the quiet. It was soft and low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. His words carried a thoughtfulness, the weight of a memory he had been holding close, now offered to you in the stillness of the night.

“I remember a time when I was a boy,” he began, his voice low and tinged with nostalgia. “It was a winter, much like this one. We were up in the mountains with my father. The cold was so sharp, so bitter, that even the wolves sought shelter in the trees.” He paused, his fingers gently tracing a slow, absent rhythm on your arm, as if anchoring himself in the memory. “We were hunting, tracking a stag, but my father—he always taught me that you don’t chase after something just because it’s there. You have to be patient. You wait for the right moment.”

His words hung in the air, deliberate and weighted, as though each one carried more than just a memory. It wasn’t about the hunt, or the bitter cold—it was about something deeper. About waiting. About endurance. About knowing that some things take time, even when the waiting feels unbearable, even when the pain seems endless.

You kept your gaze on him, watching as the memory unfolded in his eyes. It wasn’t just the words he spoke—it was the way he offered them, the quiet conviction in his tone. A simple story, yet it carried the quiet strength of patience and resilience, a lesson that reached beyond the moment. It wasn’t about fixing what was broken. It was about surviving. Enduring. And as you listened, you began to understand that this was a truth he had carried with him for a long time—a truth he was now sharing with you.

Cregan’s voice softened even further as he paused, the weight of his words settling into the quiet around you. His hand rested lightly against your back, steady and warm, as though trying to shield you from the storm of your thoughts. His gaze met yours for a moment, unflinching, before drifting away again as he spoke.

“I didn’t get it then, not fully,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful, each word carefully chosen. “But now… now, I think I do.” He exhaled softly, his breath brushing gently against your face, the realization in his words carrying the weight of years. “There are moments in life that feel like they’ll break us. Moments where we feel like we’re lost, as though nothing we do will ever be enough. And in those moments, it’s not what we do to fix it that matters most. It’s how we endure. How we wait through the pain, knowing that, eventually, it will pass. It’s about having the patience to let the hurt come—and the patience to let it leave when it’s ready.”

Cregan’s next words came slowly, each one deliberate, heavy with the weight of his love and the quiet strength he offered. It was as though he were trying to bridge the chasm between your pain and his desire to hold you together, even in the brokenness that surrounded you.

“I won’t pretend to understand the full depth of your sorrow, or the weight that rests in your heart,” he said, his voice low and steady, thick with meaning. The tenderness in his tone was undeniable, each word chosen with care. “But I do know this—you are not carrying it alone.”

He paused, letting the words settle between you. They hung in the air like a fragile thread, something so delicate yet so vital, connecting the raw edges of your grief to the steadfastness of his presence. His gaze remained fixed on yours, unwavering, as though willing you to believe him.

“We are here together,” he continued, his voice softer now but no less certain. “And I’ll stay beside you through it all—no matter how long it takes, no matter how much time you need.”

As he spoke, his arm tightened around you, just enough to make his promise tangible, to emphasize the truth of his words. It wasn’t a solution, wasn’t meant to erase the pain that clung to you so fiercely. But it was constant, unyielding—his presence a silent vow to remain with you, no matter the weight of the sorrow that bound you both to this moment.

You could feel the steadiness in his voice, the raw honesty behind each word. It wasn’t just a story he told—it was a promise, woven into the quiet strength of his presence. It was a reminder that grief, with all its weight and anguish, was not something you had to face alone. And though the journey through it would be long—perhaps longer than you could imagine right now—he would wait with you. Just as he had waited patiently that day in the mountains, not rushing the hunt but trusting that, in time, the right moment would come. Cregan understood the power of patience, the way it shaped everything, even in the darkest of times.

The warmth of his body and the quiet strength of his words began to settle in your chest, providing a fragile comfort amidst the storm of your grief. The ache didn’t vanish—it gnawed at you still, sharp and relentless, pulling at the edges of your heart. But his presence offered something more, something small yet significant: a sense that you didn’t have to face this alone. You were still broken, still lost in the enormity of everything you had endured, but in his arms, there was a flicker of solace. Not hope—not yet. But the smallest inkling that, with time, the pieces might begin to mend.

Cregan wouldn’t ask you to hurry through this pain. He wouldn’t demand anything you couldn’t give. He would wait beside you, steady and unwavering, until the day came when the ache didn’t feel so suffocating. He would wait for you to heal, not by rushing you forward but by standing with you through every difficult step.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself rest. You loosened the tight grip you’d kept on your grief, just enough to lean into him, to let his arms hold the weight you no longer could. In this moment, with him, you didn’t have to be strong. You didn’t have to understand what came next. You only had to exist, to breathe, and to trust that in the silence between you, the promise of healing was waiting, just like the moment Cregan had waited for in the mountains.

#therogueflame my pookie #therogueflame #cregan stark #house of the dragon #asoiaf #hotd #me reading this like 🙁#cregan best husband?#mooties ♡

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kismetlotts · 2 months ago

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call of duty p-links -`◇´-

♡︎ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴀᴛ ♡︎

18/21+, MDNI, mature themes

triggering, upsetting and explicit content below

proceed at your own risk ⬏

Simon Ghost Riley

Riding Colleague Simon Riley and watching his cold, harsh exterior shatter, revealing this broken, needy man beneath who almost submits to tears when you finally lock eyes.

Ex boyfriend Simon Riley who spits on his fingers and stuff them inside you when you beg-plead him to stop stalking you and raping you.

Boyfriend Simon Riley who drags you into a random room at a gathering before fucking you hard and trying to stay quiet, he doesn't care that people are in the other room, he doesn't care that someone could walk in because he needed you there and then.

Hopping into the bath with your roommate Simon because you were way too impatient, you needed him inside you desperately- he can just wash his grimy, sweaty, work-orientated body later.

Taxi Driver Simon Riley who cant help but give in to his sick desires as he hops in the back to fuck you, ripping off that skimpy little dress you were wearing and pulling your hair.

Heartbroken best friend Simon who fucks you in the kitchen after sleeping over your house, relieving some of his post break-up blues and stress with the help of your sloppy tight cunt.

Toxic boyfriend Simon who fucks his cock into your mouth when you wouldn't let him in your pussy, making your eyes water and your body twitch in regret.

Sex deprived Husband Simon who breeds you the moment he returns home, he had been loyal to you while away on deployment and he just couldn't contain himself when he finally had the chance to bury himself in your wet gooeyness.

Toxic Boyfriend Simon who fucks you hard to let off all of his steam, spanking, slapping and hitting your body because he was fucking pissed at you and nothing else could calm him down- you deserved it anyway you fucking whore.

Captain John Price

Boss Price who calls you into his office for some steamy cunnilingus when everyone is packing up ready to go home, lapping his teeth around your clit and diving his wet tongue into your greedy hole- let him have a taste, its the least you can do for your boss.

Birthday-boy boyfriend John who walks into the bedroom to see you all wrapped and tied for him, completely at his mercy in white material-prepped and ready for him to use or disrespect.

Stepdad Price stuffing your hole and leashing you up while your mother is away with work, treating you like some stupid fucking bitch and forcing you to do exactly what he tells you since he is in charge and you abide by his rules.

Older boyfriend John who proposes that the two of you start by doing mutual masturbation, he didn't want to scare his young pretty girl off just yet with how rough he can be and his fingers were already itching to feel the inside of your fresh pussy.

Husband Price who fucks you deeper when you beg for it, pounding into you so hard his eyes are shining with pleasure and legs are aching in tiredness, feeling your wetness drip out and coat his dick filling the room with your heavenly squelches- so wet and so fucking feminine.

Friends with benefits John Price who fucking loves watching your arse shake and jiggle with every thrust, he loved your arse in general and was always happy to bite, eat, fuck, taste and finger it- but nothing beats the tasty sight of your cheeks swaying beneath him as he absolutely wrecks you.

Dads best friend Price who fucks you like an animal in heat, if you had taken a second longer to undress your clothes would be ripped to shreds ad hanging off you with how badly he couldn't wait-he didn't even give a shit your heels were still on because he had waited a lifetime to get inside you.

Toxic Husband John who drags you over his lap and toys with you for his own pleasure, smirking to himself when you cry from his spanks and whimper from his fingers- giving his sweet baby a little treat and punishment at the same time because he couldn't understand which one he liked more.

Step dad Price who is way to desperate for you to cum on his fingers, soak his hand in your cum and just to let yourself go, be taken care of and protected by an older male- who cares if it is wrong or not- he just wants his darling daughter to be happy and calm.

Johnny Soap Mactavish

Stalker Johnny who rearranges your guts fast and hard against your bed as soon as he gets his chance, meaty thick cock ramming its way inside with no care as he shamelessly blabbers on how you are his sweet little dove and that he thanks god for giving him this opportunity- you'll never know how badly he actually wanted his hands on you.

Greedy Hook-up Mactavish who makes you squirt just so it feels better for him, your folds leaking and dribbling with your essence but Johnny only cared about the warmth coating and lubricating his tip, making you so sodden it seemed he was sliding into warm, soft, melted, butter.

Best friend Johnny who proves you wrong when you assume hes lying about being able to make any girl cum by just his fingers, dragging you onto his bed and fingering you steadily, mouth salivating in thirst as he watches your cum propel outwards and squirt all over his sheets.

Perverted Boyfriend Johnny who cant stop himself from sucking harshly on your nipples, mind already engrossed with sick fantasies of drinking your milk, you cupping him in your arms and feeding him gently like the good boy he is for you- you'd never find out though, to you he was just teasing your breasts, sucking, pinching and having a little fun, totally normal.

Step Brother Mactavish who fucks you in his room late at night, the pints he'd had previously making him increasingly more open and confident than usual, his tip hitting the spot you craved it to his gaining a small little spank from you and a whisper to keep quiet- you cant let mummy and daddy hear the two of you.

Childhood Best Friend Johnny who fucks you so hard you squirt all over yourself and him, finally seeing him after so many years and letting him fuck your ass had gotten you so excited you couldn't hold yourself back- Johnny wasn't fucking complaining each squirt that shot out of you made him almost cum- fucking your tight hole on the brink of orgasm, he never would've guessed you were capable of that.

Perverted neighbour Johnny who invites himself in to show you just how trained his tongue is, guiding it all over your thighs and pussy, working you easily and calmly it has your eyes watering in delight.

Simons best friend Johnny who fucks you in Simons bedsheets, thick dick filling you up more than his ever could until your left a collapsed mess in ecstasy, the scent of your boyfriend on the duvet and the groans coming from his best mate sent guilt straight to your stomach but it was already overwritten by pleasure- Disgusting fucking tramp sleeping with other guys and enjoying it.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Boyfriend Kyle who just wants to feel your soft lips on his monster cock, he would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do and it would be silly to ask you to suck him- but could you please at least spit over the tip or maybe just lick it a little?

Roommate Gaz who cant survive the day without a morning quickie, your arse bouncing right in front of him and hole lustfully swallowing his juicy dick gets him in the perfect mindset for his hard work, morning television roaring in the background as you both chase your orgasms- you don't mind, do you?

Boyfriend Kyle who fucks you as fast as he can the second he hears 'faster' spew from your glossy lips, his stamina and pace unmatchable and sometimes you feel like you're about to explode with how powerful he is, Kyles a sweetheart but he isn't always so soft, slow and romantic- the man can fuck like a king.

Husband Kyle who has an obsession with filling your stomach with his massive cock, seeing the thick outline of himself through your skin deep in your stomach stirred something up inside him, fucking you harder and harder sometimes you bleed from his accidental roughness, it set him alight watching it bulge- made his savage side snap into action.

Konig

Obsessive stalker Konig who watches your window as you shower and finally builds up enough courage to join and fuck you in it one day, picking you up from behind and slipping inside your warm homey hole, drool falling from his mouth and onto your shoulder as you cried, he didn't understand why you were so adamant for him to get off of you and stop making love to you, it was no big deal- if he made you dirty and sweaty again he will just help you wash again.

Step Brother Konig who rapes you while you sleep and accidentally creampies your hole once you wake up and whimper, he didn't mean to cum honestly, he whispers apologies and a long string of worried 'fucks' as he pulls apart your cheeks watching his semen leak out of you- please don't be angry at him.

Boyfriend Konig who makes sure to use three or four of his fingers to stretch you out and prepare you for his cock, its just that big- he will kiss you on the cheek, licking away your salty tears of pain while he fucks his fingers until you, it is only a matter of time until you grow accustomed to the feeling- it will only hurt for a little more you just have to trust him.

Perverted Boyfriend Konig who fucking loses it when he sees you in your cute innocent frilly little panties, not being able to hold back his groans and his cum as he absolutely saturated them, painting them white- it is okay though, he promises to buy you a new pair- only if you let him keep these used ones- for personal reasons of course.

Brothers best friend Konig who selfishly ruts against your clothed pussy at night, breathing heavily and shaking as his precum soaks through the cotton of your panties, the room pitch black from the darkness aside from your lamp and he was supposed to be sleeping next door on the floor with your brother but here he was- sick look in his pleasure-ridden eyes as he looks down at you- whispering for you to just go back to sleep- he promises he wont go inside.

Philip Graves

Boss Graves who spanks your ass repeatedly when you disobey his orders, you work for him and you do exactly what he fucking says- there should be no 'Why's or 'No's it is 'Yes Sir' or else you are staying behind at the end of the day, and trust him when he says he will not be letting you leave until he is satisfied that you have learnt your lesson.

Toxic Boyfriend Philip who honestly does not give a fuck if you are tired or not, he will touch you, eat you, fuck you and rape you if he has to because to be in a relationship with him is an honour that you are taking for granted- he will treat you however he wants- at the end of the day your just a piece of pussy.

Boyfriend Philip who loves your perfect little nipples, he loves squeezing them, pinching them- sucking, biting- you name it and he loves it, he loves when you were silly little tank tops around the house that shows them pointing through and he loves when you let him cum on them- the minute he come face to face with your breasts and nipples, its like the world melts away.

Manipulative, Insane Boss Graves who hates when you crawl away from him and his hard cock- you know you want it, he can see it in your big doe eyes, its fuels him with rage when you cry and threaten to report him if he puts it inside you so he threatens your job back, promising you that if you ever told anyone or reported him that he would come for you and no matter how fast you tried to escape that he would always outrun you.

Husband Graves who upsets you during an argument so he decides to tug your panties down and fuck you in all the ways you love just before bed, his breath hot on your neck and sweat forming under both of your pyjamas from how fast his cock was entering you- the music of your panting and the scent of sex in the air made it safe to say neither of you got much sleep but at least he is back in your good books.

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ssweetleaf · 9 months ago

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babies.

husband!steve harrington x wife!reader

summary: you finally tell steve that you’re ready for a baby.

includes: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, not really a daddy kink but he refers to himself as daddy lol, mating press, creampie, unprotected p in v

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hang on— what did you say?”

Steve felt as if he was dreaming, completely delirious, struggling to stay on his feet when his knees started to buckle.

He clutched a quivering palm to his chest, as if in attempt to quell his heart, but nothing could sate the thick thumping that barrelled through his rib cage.

You smiled at him, a small, impish one that made his eyelids flutter and you stepped closer, smoothing your hands along his shoulders before resting upon the thickness of both biceps, squeezing only slightly— just for your benefit, of course.

You knew it was something he’d desperately wanted to hear for a long while, so you spoke slowly, hoping the few words you spoke would register properly.

Because this was real. Such a big step, something that Steve had always dreamt of, but you not quite. It took a good few years for you to succumb to the idea of raising kids; a pretty house and a small wedding— even a few cats roamed around your home, so you knew that something was missing, something you now wanted desperately in your life.

“I want to try for a baby, Steve.” You spoke, watching his doe eyes grow even rounder, little tears threatening to ebb while he felt all melty and gooey, moving forward to shakily cup your cheeks and bring you closer towards him.

Steve nuzzled his nose against yours, sighing out a big breath and sponging a sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t know what to say, honey, I’m—” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his thumbs lazily circling the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy.”

��

So, the two of you fucked like rabbits— for hours and hours, multiple times a day, the mere feeling of his raw length inside you had you creaming around him in minutes, and it was much akin for Steve, the soft, gummy walls of your cunt squeezing around him with no barrier between the two of you.

It felt like heaven.

Steve had insisted that you both have sex as regular as you could, the need to have you pregnant, to make it stick, needed to be quenched, and you nodded along like the doting little wife you were.

“My pretty honey,” he cooed, pressing your knees firmly against your heaving chest, holding you in a mating press whilst he fucked his thick cock into your spasming pussy.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, breathless from his hard thrusts— he had already came inside of you three times that same day, however you knew he wouldn’t let up until he saw those two red lines that told him what he’d wanted to hear.

“Gotta give you my babies, don’t I, hon?” He uttered, moaning breathily into the stuffy air— his full, round balls smacking against your ass with every inward thrust, so full of cum and ready to breed. “Gotta be thorough now, baby— want you nice ‘n’ round.”

He was babbling, words slurring into something almost nonsensical— his pretty lips sponged at any piece of skin he could find, mouthing and suckling with a desperation that shone in his honeyed eyes.

Your pussy practically sucked him in, letting his ruddy tip nudge at the spot so deep inside you, that had you clenching and fluttering.

“Fuck, jus’ wanna be a daddy so bad,” he whined, “and once we have our first, we’ll have another, and another, and another— oh fuck.”

He was fisting the pillow underneath your head, muscles drawn tight, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and not let them flutter closed— trying hard to keep his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, honey baby,” he sighed with a smile, still thrusting as deep as he could, his thumb moving to rub at your clit. “You’ll still be daddy’s best girl— daddy’s favourite, I’ll make sure of it.”

You whined. He was so filthy, so crude, as soon as his big dick would slip inside of you he’d be gone, so stupid, completely pussy drunk. Silly boy.

“You ready for it, hon?” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “ready for my cum, pretty girl?”

You nodded, uttering a small ‘yes, Stevie’ through a moan and a sigh, clenching hard and quivering around him, ready to cum yourself.

The sheer need to be filled had you delirious.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up— gonna put a sweet baby in that pretty tummy of yours,” he hummed, “that sound good?”

“Sounds s’good, Stevie,” you whined, struggling to keep hold of your legs, your limbs shaky when you tried to keep your knees pressed against you. “Wan’ it so bad, want your cum— want your babies.”

He nodded fervently, hair whipping in every which way, dick throbbing in you hotly, the taut veins pulsing with every inward thrust— so, so close and ready to burst.

“I know ya do, hon— you ready to take it? You ready to take another load, baby?” He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, thrusts turning sloppy and erratic, “I know you’re so full, can barely fit anymore cum inside this poor pussy, huh?”

“Can take it, Stevie,” you spoke, fluttering your lashes, your lips all pouty and pink, “promise.”

And with one, two, three thrusts, he stilled inside of you, so deep, tip kissing your cervix before shooting his thick, pearly ropes of cum inside you, hoping to fill you with his Harrington prodigy, to make all the babies he could wish for.

Steve kept your legs raised, pulling them from your chest to place above his shoulders, keeping your back arched.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered, stroking at your calf before pressing a little kiss to your ankle. “think this is the one, honey.”

#Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington hc #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things blurb #joe keery x reader #joe keery smut #joe keery imagine

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kirbmey · 14 days ago

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⠀⠀ ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ husband!sylus x reader ⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: where you sneak into sylus office looking for him cuz you miss him so so much! ε٩(๑> ₃ <)۶з

tw: fluff, sylus is called ‘husband’, reader is especially femenine and shy, usage of ‘kitten’, sylus smokes, he’s sickly in love!, etc.

you know you weren´t supposed to be walking around the house so late, but you were completely restless without your husband holding you tightly while you tried to sleep.

walking around the empty halls while heading to sylus office you yawn; you´ve been trying to sleep for a few hours now, even tried watching your favorite movie or holding your plushie while counting sheep but nothing worked.

so you were left with only one option, looking for him.

he stated a few times that you mustn´t disturb him while he worked, him being the busy business man that he is.

but that didn´t stop you from reaching the pome of the door, hesitant between wether you should open it or not.

once you made up your mind you swang the door open, peeking your head through the small gap to catch a glimpse of your beloved reading some documents while sipping on his favorite expensive wine. he was wearing those glasses you loved, also.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“just come inside, would you?", he stated, not even lifting his gaze to spot you standing in the middle of the room. he relocated his silver frame glasses on top of the bridge of his nose, scooting the big leather armchair aside so you could sit on his lap as you were accustomed to.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“i´m sorry, sylus, i just can´t sleep tonight." you mumble an apology while straddling him, hugging his broad shoulders and hiding your now blushed face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his manly scent.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“that’s okay, kitten. i was about to wrap it up here and go to bed with you, so impacient, aren´t you?" he teased with a low voice, chuckling when he heard you whine against his pale skin.

he left those documents aside, sipping the last drop of his wine and took off his glasses, placing them on the table. then, he grabbed you by the hips, holding you like a baby koala while he walked to your shared bedroom, feeling your breath slowly calm down.

he tucked your little body underneath the warm comforter, heading to the big glass window to open it and move the curtains aside, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, sitting on his designated reading nook while staring at you.

puffing the smoke out the window so the smell wouldn´t linger inside the room, he took in every single detail about the scene in front of him; how you fell asleep so quickly in his arms, how you placed your head on his pillow, how your locks framed your face.

once he was done with the cigarette he brushed his teeth, taking note of the late hours. sure, he didn´t need to sleep, but drifting away while holding you was one of the best feelings in the world to him.

he was so in love with his little cherub (｡´ ‿｀♡)

a/n: been thinking about writing for arcane too idk idk (๑•́ -•̀)

— masterlist.

#lads smut #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lads headcanons #love and deepspace fic #sylus headcanons #ldns sylus #sylus x reader #lads imagine #sylus smut #lads sylus smut

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tbaluver · 3 months ago

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hellooo!! i absolutely love your fluffy family imagines/hcs so so much! say, do you have a reaction idea on LADS men when their child cries because of them? like they unintentionally hurt their babies feelings or unknowingly broke their promise (cuz they were busy/forgot) or absolutely anything that comes to your lovely genius mind aaa :'3

thank you and hope you have an amazing daaaay!! (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

Making Their Child Cry- The Love And DeepSpace Men

in order: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus genre: fluff fluff + imagine a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you so much angel im happy to hear that! <3 this was such a cute idea i had soo much fun writing these and i had many scenarios for each one! i got most of my ideas thanks to @ilovemitsuya mwah ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) rafayel's part was also inspired by a mother and daughter from tiktok! <3 i lovee writing them as dads bc i just know they would make great dads and husbands! i hope you enjoy reading and i hope you also have an amazing day luv (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“what?”

“santa isn’t real,” xavier says softly, not fully grasping the weight of the words he’s just dropped onto his son. xavier never saw the appeal of santa. the idea of someone sneaking into your house, leaving gifts, eating your cookies, and disappearing without a trace never sat well with him. but now, as he watches his son’s world crumble in front of him, he realizes how wrong it was to voice his opinions out loud, especially to his baby that still believes magic is real.

“b-but yes he is!” his son’s voice trembles, his lip quivering as tears begin to glisten in his eyes.

xavier’s heart sinks, his baby boy’s holiday magic is about to shatter and he didn’t realize that it would hurt this much to him. he reaches out but his son backs away, a tiny sob escapes his lips and runs away from xavier.

“momma! papa says santa isn’t real!” the words come out in sobs as your son clings desperately to your legs, his face wet with tears.

you gasp, your heart breaking hearing your baby boy cry as you scoop him into your arms. xavier watches, looking at you for a silent plea for help as you cradle your son close.

“hon it’s okay,” you murmur as you rock your baby boy gently. “santa’s real...it’s just that...well, your papa ate all of santa’s cookies last christmas and it made santa a little upset so right now, santa and papa aren’t exactly getting along. but i’m sure they’ll fix it.” you eye xavier, signaling him.

your son sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve, his little face scrunches, “h-he made santa upset! papa you have to fix it!”

xavier reaches out and wipes the last few stray tears from his son’s cheek, “alright, i’ll fix it. i promise.”

later that night

your son is fast asleep in his bed, his small frame curled up under the covers until tiny trails of sparkling light begin to swirl around his room. they twinkle like stars, softly glowing in his room.

your son stirs, his eyelids fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. he rubs his eyes as he tries to focus on the situation unfolding in front of him. at the foot of his bed, standing in a warm glow of light, is a santa and elf puppet.

“ho ho ho! hello there sweet child!” the santa puppet's voice exclaims but really it’s just xavier, hiding beside his small bed frame as he projects his voice through the puppet’s mouth. “i’m sorry i cannot be there in person right now,” the puppet- or xavier continues, “but i sent my best elf to deliver this as a message to you! your father and i have talked, and we have made up!” the elf puppet nods and claps enthusiastically.

your son’s eyes widen with joy, “really?! yay!!” hearing his son’s excitement and happiness makes his heart full and he wishes he can see the joy in his son’s face.

“you should sleep now,” the santa puppet says softly, “i’ll be seeing you again on christmas night. goodnight, little one!”

your son grins, wishing a goodbye to the santa puppet as he pulls the covers up to his chin and snuggles back into the warmth of his bed. but the excitement that was building up in his chest refuses to let him sleep fully. his eyes flutter once more and catches a glimpse of the twinkling lights and a trail of sparkling dust as the puppets disappear from his sight.

xavier peeks into his soon’s room, “is everything alright?” he whispers, stepping inside. his son sits up, wide-eyed with a grin plastered on his face.

“daddad! santa just spoke to me!” his voice filled with excitement and joy, making xavier smile.

he crouches down beside him, playing along as if he wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “really? i just spoke to him too.”

your son’s giggles and xavier can’t help but join in and laugh with him, “you guys are best friends now!”

“of course,” xavier says softly, “anything to make you happy. i’m sorry i upset you earlier.”

your son wraps his arms around his neck in a hug, “it’s okay dad. you never would upset me. i love you.”

xavier’s smile softens, returning the embrace. “i love you too, my little star,” he whispers, a small glow of dust still glowing in the room.

Zayne:

“we’re losing her!”

the panic in the room was almost tangible.

“don’t worry. it’s going to be okay,” dr. zayne replied calmly, even though he could feel the distress radiating through the room. his eyes remained focused on the patient in front of him.

earlier

“okay daddy ready?” his daughter’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she bounced up and down, clutching her beloved snow bear plushie. the little bear was dressed up as elsa from frozen and it was her most loved and cherished plushie she’s ever gotten.

zayne’s lips curled up into a smile from how cute his daughter was as he gives her a nod. he clears his throat before beginning. “let it go....let it goooo.” he sang flatly as tiny snowflakes and snowdrops danced in the air, falling gently on top of them.

she gasped in delight as she watched the magic unfold before her eyes. to her it was way better than anything from the movie, it felt like real magic. she squealed with laughter, spinning in a circle until something unexpected happened.

an ice crystal drops into her plushie’s belly, forming a small tear on its soft stomach and its stuffing begins to fall out.

to zayne it was a minor mishap, just a small rip. but to his baby girl, it was an absolute catastrophe. her face twisted in shock and before zayne could even react, she screamed in horror, clutching her bear to her chest like she truly lost someone in a war.

“daddy!” she cries out, her tiny hands desperately trying to protect the bear as the stuffing slowly poured out. little did she know she was actually making it worse as she kept moving it around. “y-you monster!” her voice trembled.

hearing that made zayne’s heart sank but he swallowed his own disappointment and quickly scooped her into his arms. “i’m sorry, my little snowflake,” he says softly, rubbing her back as she hiccups with sobs. “it was an accident. we can fix her okay?”

she pulls away slightly, rubbing stray tears that fell from her eyes, “we can?”

zayne gives her a reassuring nod and a small smile, “i promise. she just needs a little surgery and she’ll be all better.” he brushes the hair from her face, helping her wipe away any tears with his thumb. “you must stay strong for her okay?”

he gently sets the plushie on the table in front of them, its belly exposed with cotton. “i’m going to get everything we need but i need you to stay and look out for her.” she nods seriously, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

zayne leaves the room momentarily and returns with a small pair of scissors, needle, and a thread. he kneels beside the table as his daughter stood nearby, watching anxiously.

the operation has begun.

zayne carefully snips away the thread, feeling the weight of his daughter’s gaze. a few clumps of stuffing accidentally falls out and she gasps, her eyes widening in panic.

“we’re losing her!” she cries, hiding behind zayne’s arms for comfort.

“don’t worry. it’s going to be okay,” dr. zayne replied calmly, even though he could feel the distress radiating through the room. his eyes remained focused on the patient in front of him. he continued to stitch, pulling the fabric of the bear back together, until the rip looked like it was never there. with one final knot, it was finished.

“there,” he gently smoothes her plushie’s fur, “all better now.”

her eyes widened, holding the bear closer to her chest. she squeezes it tightly, smiling widely. “thank you, you're the best!” she squeals, his heart lifting at the sight of her happiness.

she bites her lip and looks up at him, her voice small. “i-i’m sorry for calling you a monster papa,” she whispers.

zayne’s heart melted and scooped her up into a big hug, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of her small head. “it's alright my little snowflake. i know you didn’t mean it.”

she hugs him back tightly, her small frame nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “i love you daddy.”

“i love you too, dear. now let’s go get some deserving macaroons after our shift.”

Rafayel:

his son had always wanted to be just like rafayel. he’d watch with wide eyes as rafayel creates something beautiful in his studio. the way the artwork has come to life the moment he starts to paint or draw has always fascinated him.

as soon as his son announced that he had drawn something for him, rafayel couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

“alright, show me what you’ve got my little glub glub!” rafayel grins, his heart was racing with excitement to see what his son had created.

but the moment his son had turned his sketchbook around, he froze. a chuckle escapes before he could stifle it. the drawing was rafayel’s face and it was....certainly unique. many would call it abstract. the proportions were comedically off and the colors were, well, not quite what rafayel expected.

“wow! this is....nice!” rafayel says, forcing the words out with a grin while desperately fighting back the laugh that was threatening to escape.

“raf....” you whispered, pinching his arm as a warning, your eyes narrowing with concern. you could tell rafayel was trying to hold back the sarcasm and you feared that their son might pick up on it.

“ouch!” he winces dramatically but it didn’t stop his amusement from creeping in. “i mean seriously, where did you learn to do this? and is this....pigmentation? where were you all these years?!” he lets out a small laugh, digging himself deeper into the joke.

unfortunately, his son was not laughing. his son pulls the sketchbook away and hugs it tightly to his chest, hiding the drawing.

“nono!” rafayel scrambles to fix it, “i promise my little glub glub, it’s sooo good!” but his words could not mask the laughter still lingering in his throat.

a pout forms on his son’s lip, arms crossed, just like what his father would do. “then why are you and mommy laughing?” his voice trembled, tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

rafayel froze, guilt washing over him once he saw tears streaming down his cheeks. “glub glub, mommy doesn’t know anything about art!” he tries to explain, his tone trying to remain gentle as he tries to cover your face with a pillow.

he pulls his baby boy into his arms, “hey hey i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you upset. your art is nice. i think you’ve got talent. i love it. i really do.”

your son didn’t respond for a few seconds but he relaxed a little later in rafayel’s arms. “you promise?”

rafayel nods, his lips curling into a smile as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of his baby son’s head., “i promise my little glub glub. now let’s frame your masterpiece on the fridge!”

your son squeals in joy, bouncing on the couch with excitement but you intervene with a teasing smile. “how about we let daddy display your masterpiece in his pieces as well?” you give rafayel a mischievous grin, watching as his eyes narrow at you

“that’s even better!” he says, trying not to drop his playful sarcasm. “see my little glub? i love you so so much that i’ll even put your beautiful artwork in mine.” he throws in a playful wink as he lifts his son into his arms for a tight hug.

Sylus:

your little girl had waited for sylus for hours. he had promised her playtime as much as she wants before bed. but now, now it was almost too late. she clutched her favorite crow plushie as if it was a stress ball. she sat in front of the window, glaring at the headlights of his vehicle that flashed by.

when the door finally swung open, it wasn’t the usual welcoming scene of you and your daughter running up to him and greeting him. instead it was just you greeting him, your lips met his in a soft and tender kiss and his baby girl, well, she glared at him with all the fury and intimidation she could muster.

“sweetie?” his eyebrows furrowed as he knelt down to meet her height but she only puffed out her cheeks further, gripping her poor crow plushie.

“you lied!” she points at him accusingly, “you promised playtime!” she whined, her voice going higher, a sign that she was this close bursting into tears.

he sighed deeply, “i’m sorry, sweetie. i didn’t-”

before he could finish his sentence, the crow plushie was thrown at his face that made him pause mid sentence. he let out a long exhale, brushing it off. she was already upset and he did break her promise.

“i didn’t mean to break our promise my little dove,” he continues, “but i;m here now, okay? i’m here.” he extends his large hands to wipe any stray tears that were already forming in her eyes.

his heart shatters when he sees her bottom lip quivering as she sniffles in protest and when he sees tears starting to form and spill. he cooed softly, his large hands tenderly brushing the tears from her cheeks. “it’s okay sweetie. here. i have something to make it up to you.”

suddenly the door swings open and luke and kieran trots in, both dramatically holding up a mountain of her favorite dolls and toys. “little hunter!” they exclaimed in unison, striking a pose.

her eyes widened, noticing those were her favorite toys. the toys she had been dreaming and wanting for a while. “are those for me?” she gasped, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

sylus smiles, picking her up gently as she squeals in delight. her pout disappearing into a cute grin. “of course,” he replies, his voice much more playful and softer as he boops her tiny nose. “we can play as much as you want now.”

her little arms wrapped around his neck, not reaching all the way due to her tiny frame and his much larger frame. “thank you so much! i love you daddy!”

sylus chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i love you too sweetie.”

you couldn’t help but watch in awe at the scene, “what do you say sweetie?”

she paused, her face scrunching up as her head drooped down. “i-i’m sorry for throwing my plushie at you,” she whispered, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

sylus lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “it’s alright sweetie. let’s not let it happen again. we can always work things out differently okay?”

she nods, listening intently.

“now, let’s all play, yes?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

the excitement in her eyes was truly adorable as she bounced in his arms, her little legs kicking with pure joy. “yes yes! let’s go!” she squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement.

luke and kieran had already made their way to her playroom and sylus held her close, guiding you to the room as well, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back.

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dahlibae · 1 month ago

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WILL YOU COME HOME WITH ME?

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Wanda brought you home to meet her parents for the first time this Christmas, but for some reason, the woman is unable to keep her hands off you.

warning(s) — oneshot: age gap couple, alternative universe, mistletoe kisses, older!wanda, smut(?), nipple sucking, teasing (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The windshield wipers swiped rhythmically against the steady drizzle of snow as Wanda drove down the winding road towards her childhood home. The air inside the car was warm, the scent of fresh pine from a little tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror mixing with the lingering aroma of cinnamon from the hot chocolate you shared at the last rest stop. Wanda sat beside you, her gloved hand that wasn’t focused on driving the vehicle occasionally pointed out landmarks from her past—a diner she swore made the best cherry pie, the park where she and Pietro used to sled down the biggest hill, and the bridge where she'd once dared him to climb to the top… all for him to fall off and break his arm.

Her voice softened when she spoke about her parents. “They’ll love you.” She said, more to herself than to you, but you caught the edge of nervousness in her tone. She hadn’t brought home a partner since Vision – her ex husband – and you were, well, nothing like him. For one, you were a woman and her parents weren’t even aware of their daughter’s sexuality. And two, you were quite younger than her. You reached over, resting a hand on hers. She gave you a quick smile before looking back out the window.

The sky dimmed as she turned onto a long, snow-covered driveway lined with bare trees. At the end of it stood a cozy two-story house, its windows glowing golden against the winter evening. A wreath decorated the front door, and string lights framed the roofline, casting a cheerful, twinkling light over the yard. Wanda inhaled deeply as she parked, then turned to you.“Ready?” She asked, her voice almost teasing. You nodded, though your heart thudded nervously.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The warmth of the house embraced you immediately as you stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked cookies and coffee filling the air. Wanda’s mother - Iryna - greeted you with a hug that was surprisingly strong for her petite frame, her Sokovian accent making her words feel like a soft melody. Her - Olek - father shook your hand firmly, his eyes kind yet probing. He was staggeringly tall, even taller than her twin brother who must’ve been over six foot. It was clear Wanda took after him the most. Pietro wasn’t far behind, slapping you on the back with a grin that matched Wanda’s when she was up to something mischievous. You had met him before. He had came over to Wanda’s house one day, not expecting his sister to have anyone over, but found you… underneath her.

In no time, you were sat on the couch, a little overwhelmed but charmed by Wanda’s mother after she had led you deeper into the living room, already firing off a million questions. Wanda was sitting next to you, her hand occasionally brushing against yours as she joined in on her mother’s conversation with you, before she was whisked away, leaving you defenceless against her mother.

Pietro had been mischievous all evening. Every so often, you’d catch him whispering to Wanda or their dad before smirking in your direction. You figured he was just enjoying teasing his sister about bringing someone home for the holidays, and him being the only person in the room to know prior to Christmas.

You had finally settled in once Wanda had made her way back to your side, when Pietro suddenly appeared, a gleam in his eye. In his hand was a sprig of mistletoe, held high above you both. "Look at this!" He announced, drawing everyone’s attention. "A little holiday magic, right here!"

Your face went warm immediately, and you caught Wanda's eye. She looked equally surprised, her cheeks flushed. Her parents chuckled softly, sharing a knowing glance.

"Pietro.” Wanda warned, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

"But, sis, it’s tradition!" He declared, unapologetic, holding the mistletoe steady above the two of you. "You wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would you?"

You glanced at Wanda, unsure of what to do. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. Then, before you could think too much, she leaned in. Her hands cupped your cheeks, and her lips pressed softly against yours. The kiss was gentle but sure; family friendly and yet still managed to send warmth spreading through you like the glow of the fire.

When she pulled back, her eyes lingered on yours, a mix of shyness and confidence in her expression. Around you, the room erupted in playful cheers, Pietro’s laughter loudest of all.

“Guess you really like tradition, sis. He teased, earning a glare from Wanda that only made him laugh harder.

Her mother chimed in, her voice warm. “It’s good to see you happy, my love.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Wanda voiced before reaching for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she leaned closer, ignoring Pietro’s continued antics. “Sorry about him,” she murmured, her voice just for you, “he lives for chaos.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “I don’t mind.”

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. “Good,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, before she placed another quick kiss to your lips.

Afterwards, dinner was a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and stories that made Wanda groan and bury her face in her hands. You noticed how her family’s teasing only made her more endearing, her cheeks permanently flushed pink with a mix of embarrassment and affection. A reaction you’d rarely see with the older woman. By the time dessert was served, you felt more at ease, the initial nervousness melting away as Wanda reached under the table to squeeze your hand.

Later that night, after the dishes had been cleared and her family had gone to bed, you found yourself in Wanda’s old room. It was smaller than you expected, the walls painted a soft lavender and adorned with faded posters of bands and movies from her teenage years. You wouldn’t admit it to the woman but some of these bands you had no clue of. A small Christmas tree sat in the corner, its ornaments mismatched but charming, clearly a collection built over the years. She sat cross-legged on the bed, watching you with a soft smile as you took in the space. “It’s weird being back here,” she admitted, “so much has changed, but this room... it’s like time stood still.”

You nodded, moving to sit beside her. “It’s nice,” you said honestly. “It feels like you.”

Her smile widened as she leaned against your shoulder. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the old wood settling, the muffled sound of wind outside and the series coming from her brother’s room. For a moment, you simply sat there, soaking in the stillness, the glow of the little tree casting a soft light across the room. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It means a lot to me.”

You turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Baby, no, stop, we’ll get caught.” You whispered, voice barely audible over the TV show playing in the background. Your hands hovered over her waist, unsure whether to pull her closer or gently push her away. Now, she was straddling your lap, her warm breath fanning against the crook of your neck. Her lips, teasing as usual, trailed wet kisses down to your collarbone, sending shivers coursing through your body. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound, every nerve in your body screaming at you to give in to her touch.

“Wanda.” You pleaded again, though your voice lacked conviction, and your hands had finally settled on her waist, fingertips brushing against the soft material of her open blouse. She chuckled softly, the sound low and sultry, vibrating against your skin.

"What’s the matter, baby?" She murmured, voice dripping with mischief. She nipped at your pulse, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. "Afraid someone will hear?"

You tilted your head back against the headboard, your gaze darting toward the door. It was closed, but the faint sound of her brother’s TV reminded you just how thin the walls were. "We’re in your parents' house.” You hissed, though your grip on her waist tightened as she rolled her hips into yours again.

"And?" She teased, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. Her green ones sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire, a smirk playing on her lips. Her red hair was slightly tousled, and the glow of the fireplace painted her cheeks a soft pink.

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling under her gaze. “And you know I can’t keep quiet.” You pouted, hoping to win some sympathy from her - it usually worked.

“Aw, that’s okay.” She leaned back and you thought you had won, until you noticed her reaching for her remote to turn the volume of her TV up. “I can just help you keep quiet.” She leaned in once again, brushing her nose against yours, her breath warm against your lips. Before you could protest further, her lips claimed yours in a heated kiss - much more intense than the last. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding up her back and pulling her closer as her hips rocked harder against yours.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Look at me, princess.”

You were laid on your back. Your clothes and bra long forgotten as they were flung from your body and onto the floor next to hers. You felt Wanda shift from beside you, her body no longer pressed against yours, as her hands began to push your legs apart, placing herself between them. It didn’t take long for her fingers to find you, making slow circles against you through your soaked panties. “Is this what you want?” She asked, but you couldn’t respond, too wrapped up in the pleasure of her fingers and the sight of her breasts pooling over her bra.

She took your silence as an answer.

“No? You don’t?” Her fingers slowed, now trailing up and down, just missing your clit.

“No, please!” You cried out, hips bucking into her touch. “I mean, I- please, Wands.”

She shushed you, leaning over to place soft soothing kisses against your lips. “It’s okay, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You replied without a breath, no longer concerned if her family heard you or not. She pressed her lips firmer against yours, tongue softly stroking against yours as she hummed her approval into your mouth.

“Okay, princess. Remember to stay quiet, okay? We don’t want to wake anyone up.” You felt your body clench at her words, as her head ducked, tongue swiping against your nipple, she has sucked between her lips.

“My good girl,” she mumbled, your nipple pulled from between her teeth as she switched to the other. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You managed to say between whines.

Wanda rewarded you by pulling your panties down, fingers rolling tight circles around your nerves until you came with her name spilling from your lips, and into her curls, as she held you in her arms.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

#dahlibae fics! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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redcherrykook · 27 days ago

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──── ๋࣭ ⭑ sleepyhead ! ( f )

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: waking up in your husbands arms after the first night in the new house, lots of cuddles

note from cherry: first full (but short) fic of this universe! yay lmk what you think mwah

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

white cotton sheets have never felt this good. soft, feather like pillows that let you sink down into the graceful sleep that, according to your husband, a princess like you deserves.

sunlight, as powerful as it is, sometimes feels as though it's conscious- adjusting its blinding light to gently trace the lines of people, enlighten their beauty with the upmost compliment the world can offer, sun kissed. decorated.

Jungkook feels the butterflies run rampage within his stomach while the streakes of nature do just what he's longing to- kiss your features softly. cautiously presuming, his pointer runs the imaginary tracks on your skin, circling your cheek that's pressed against the creme pillow, up the bridge of your nose eliciting huffs of sleep, back down to the bow of your parted lips

"morning baby" he mutters, watching your eyelids flutter open in a dream induced haze, before you take to yawn out the remains, rub your eyes to register the arrival of a new day.

"mhh, morning kook" your groggy voice makes him chuckle, pressing a small rewarding kiss to your forehead- you've never been one to wake up fast nor happy.

"how'd you sleep hm? is the new house's feng shui to your liking?" he half jokes- knowing how seriously you took the lectures of his mother, how the furniture should be placed not to interrupt the positive flow of energy in a newly weds house.

It worked, at least you've never felt this comfortable. although that's likely due to the confines of your husbands muscular arms tugging you torwards his chest- it smells like home.

the raspy, morning tainted tone of his voice makes you rub your head into his shoulder, wanting to bathe in his comfort, his warm, domesticness.

"it's perfect. this bed was the best decision we ever made" you giggle, letting him thread his long digits through the tumbled mess of your hair

Silence settles, unlike a sleeping state, both of your eyes are torn fully open, focused wordlessy on the face of your lovers

the little scar and moles on his cheek call out to your lips, pecking each miniscule detail with the whole of your heart, his wandering hands lead up under your shirt to explore the skin of your back, pulling you to rest on top of him, pressed- almost melted into one by the closeness you share.

he chuckles warmly, rubbing the flat tip of his button nose against yours,

"hungry ma? I can make you breakfast if you want" he suggests, pulling a string of hairs away from the countours of your rosy cheeks

"mhm, that'd be great. we have to paint the living room today" the reminder makes him fake a small cry before resuming to his airy chuckles, trailing small kisses on your temple while ignoring how his stomach growls, indulging into your sweet attention further

"I'll do it. I know you hate painting, just look for furniture you want online" he responds, knowing full well it might take hours more to complete it. not that he cares, Jeon Jungkook would take it upon himself to do anything his wife asked for,

which is precisely why your thighs wrap around his torso as he carries you to the spacious kitchen, hands playfully squeezing at the cheeks of your rear, knowing he'll have to sit you down on the cool marble counter soon.

#jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #redcherrykook #jungkook x you #husband!jungkook #𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff

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harmoonix · 6 months ago

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MY LOVE

~ Astrology Observations ~

══════ •『 ♡ 』• ══════

Having Venus in air sign or house 3H/7H/11H is the best indicator to show that you need lots of communication in your relationships, is a good placement if you like to be more extrovert

Cancer in your big 3 *Sun, Moon, Rising* are empathetic placements, cancer is usually connected so much with the mother nature and feels a deep empathy for everything surrounding

Sagittarius Placements especially in big 3 or big 6 (Sun, Moon, Rising, Mars, Mercury, Venus) is that BITCH. Wild, carefree, savage, all that plate. They're iconic

Can I please say how happy I am when I check (black, poc natives) charts and I see LEO PLACEMENTS???? EMBODY THAT FELINE INSIDE YOU. I love seeing Leo Placements in their chart 100/10.

Leo Venus is top, Leo Mars is fire, Leo Rising is a nuclear bomb. I LOVE THEM. The sun being your ruler makes everything to be perfect

Mars aspecting the Midheaven can bring you faster to the things you want to manifest in your career/job

I love how much Capricorn in big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising) embodies the dark traits of the sign. Like Capricorn was always seen as a dark sign, I love the lore behind this sign and how much it can influence your life

══════ •『 ♡ 』• ══════

When the rhythm make it vibrate

Tell me how much can you take

══════ •『 ♡ 』• ══════

Venus aspecting Neptune or Neptune aspecting Moon can often have "love dreams" like dreaming about love, dreaming about a partner, or a relationship

Taurus Moon/Rising/Mercury/3H can have a very sensual voice.. like is so blessed by Venus vocally, I love their soft tone

Jupiter in Scorpio/8H/ at 8° 20° is a deep placement in a sense that it makes to discover your life the fullest, also gives you sexual power

Juno in Aries/1h may love a spouse who can take the lead in their relationship, not in a dominant way but more as a role

Jupiter aspecting Neptune can make you more of a dreamer if you have these aspects in your chart, like you can be a part of a fairytale movie

Mars aspecting the ascendant natives have an inner fire inside them that makes them so ambitious. They wanna achieve big things in life

The dark romance between Moon - Pluto aspects is not described enough on this app. There is something so intense about the natives who have the moon in aspects with a destoryer planet

Something I saw within the sun and moon in the 9H natives is that they love their culture/traditions so much. They may also love to share their culture with others

Moon aspecting the ascendant natives is a sensitive placement in a good way. They can feel the energies around them and are able to protect from the bad ones

Venus in Sagittarius/9H may have a very funny love language. They're more playful in their love relationships. They can appreciate partners who have a good humor

Venus in Capricorn/10H may wanna be seduced first and to hit the rock, they wanna act dominant and all but they still a sensible side

Mercury in Gemini is a placement I rarely see. I'm not gonna lie. Even if Mercury is at home here, still is not seen that much, I love how social they can get, I ended up with one once, and we wouldn't stop talking at all

Even if Virgos are highly critical, we have to appreciate their self - care cus' is always on point.

Mercury aspecting the Sun natives can bring others in a good mood with their energy, somehow they always bring some peace in your life

Scorpio Mars should be classified as a sex king, like always horny, always in a mood for racing in bed, and always prepared ( I said king because Mars is a masculine planet)

Men with a Venus in the 6h/10h are husbands material placement. You won in life if your husband has these

Cancer in the 10H/Moon in the 10H, the career or job you choose can play a big role in your emotional being and development

North Node in the 11H/ at 11° 23° or in Aquarius can get popular in online/wealthy on social media, some kind of influencer

Jupiter in Libra/Jupiter in 7H/Jupiter at 7° 19° have a deep need/focus for partnerships. This energy makes the native to be liked/loved by people

Jupiter aspecting Uranus natives have a knowledge of 'future', somehow they have an idea of how the future will influence the world

Lilith in the 1h/5h/8h/12h makes the native to have a sensual aura. Sensuality may play a big role in their lives

People have said that Lilith in the 6H can be one of the most difficult positions for this placement, and I don't blame them at all. Being the house of mental power and health with Lilith here, everything can go into chaos, but you have the power to manage the chaos 🤍

Air Mercuries/Mercury in the air signs 3H/7H/11h can be influenced more easily by music, feelings + music is what this Mercury has to give

North Node in the 7H/Libra can indicate that you tend to depend on others much more in this life, due to focusing only on yourself in a past life with Aries south node/south node in the 1H

Pluto in 2H may indicate intense experiences with your self - worth and your material resources. Sometimes, you may able to control both

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Melody fire, sweet pasi sewu

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Saturn/Capricorn over the 6H/12H might have a fight with their subconscious sometimes, feeling tired, sleepy, even if you sleep enough your body still loves to sleep/relax

Some astrologers have said that after your saturn return happens, you'll be a new person, you will change, and saturn returns happen to change you

Virgo over the 8H/12H can have lots of phobias. These houses can represent fear to some extent, so it can happen, like snake phobias, spiders, deep sea, insects, and many more

Juno aspecting the Moon can indicate you tend to fall in love with people who can understand your emotional needs

Juno in Gemini natives can end up calling their spouse with nicknames (it can be any nickname)

Juno in Taurus/2H may love when their spouse takes them to a fancy place/restaurant. They can also fall in love with ppl who have the same passion for food like them

~ Not a heart on earth can beat my love ~

💚💚💚💚 On Friday we honor the love, THE day of Venus

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrology observations #astro community #astro blog #astroblog #placements #birth chart #horoscope #ascendant #venus #mylove #tropical #beach #sea #ocean #green

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ybklix · 6 months ago

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homewrecker!

★ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader x lee minho part two

✦summary: The summer you thought would be boring, starts to become entertaining once you meet two beautiful mature men with whom you look forward to having fun for a while, Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Minho, whose perfect lives with wives and children become entangled in their own downfall as they fail to control themselves with your sweet and wicked game of seduction.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, bit angst, dilf hyunjin & minho, sub!hyunjin, dom!miho, cheating, age gap, sugar daddy, oral sex, masturbation, fingering, grinding, pet names (some dreg), kinks: breeding, daddy, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of spanking, slapping.

₊ ⊹ word count: 17.7k

masterlist - taglist ⭑.ᐟ

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ NOTES: nerd hyunjin from mountains mv as main inspo of his looks!!

miniplaylist: she by harry styles / cola by lana del rey / homewrecker by marina / older by isabel larosa

a/n: thinking about nerdy dilf hyunjin since this post of mine hehe & added minho for more fun lol EDIT: this extended too much, sorry, so I decided to split it in a part 2♡

divider by youre-ackermine

Everything started in that summer, a messy and unforgettable summer where you explored lands of desire, madness, passion, and lust.

You never thought spending the summer at your older sister’s house with her newly formed family would be so much fun, you were in paradise, surrounded by attractive mature men who lost their sanity with your slightest affection and youth; Hwang Hyunjin as a private tutor, Lee Minho as your neighbor, two men whose mid-life crisis went off in a war against themselves by not knowing how to control themselves with your sweet and perverse game of flirting, which you were not going to stop until you obtained your goal, no matter obstacles in the way, like their perfect lives, families and wives, you just wanted to have some fun. You never took it seriously, just some good sex, until the circumstances changed, sometimes not always for good reasons…

It all started, to be exact, on a Friday afternoon when your older sister picked you up from one of your friend’s house, where you stayed after leaving your college dorm for the summer. To be honest, you had two options: go to your parents’ house in your small town for the break, where you would be forced to take any job, or spend it at your sister’s big new house with her very well-behaved 7-year-old stepson and her husband, who was offering you a chance to visit his workplace sometimes, which was more than a dream since Mr. Bahng was a well-known and respected prosecutor and would feed your knowledge in your degree. The second option sounded pretty good for you, plus you’d be very useful to Missy, your sister, by taking care of little Chase, Bahng Chan’s son, from time to time.

You didn’t see anything wrong with the situation, you adored your sister even though she was a few years older than you, you were best friends without a problem, so you knew you wouldn’t have a dull moment, at least not all the time. Missy met Bahng Chan when she was 24 and studying for her graduate degree, Chan was then, her professor, 32 years old, a year divorced with an also 1 year old son, somehow, they fell in love and, Missy who for her motherhood was not an option, had no plans to conceive or adopt, accepted Chan just like that. They dated for four years, you knew Chan since you were younger, he was absolutely part of the family; they finally married two years ago and just last summer Chan bought a house in one of the nicest neighborhoods, moving in with her and him, and on special occasions when he had full care of his son.

To everyone’s good fortune, Chase was an adorable little boy identical to Chan, causing your sister so much tenderness as she watched him grow up that even on a couple of occasions her mentality was altered by wanting to conceive Chan’s child. Still, Chase was a little nerd, he loved school, he was too smart, and at his young age he had a life plan to get into the best college in the country —which you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him, seeing the kind of influences and contacts his father had—, but everyone knew he could make it on his own merit; he was of course at the top of his class and school, active, he played sports, he had a love of technology and above all, he was pure and very well disciplined. Missy and Chan would have him all to themselves the entire summer.

“Well, welcome, you already know which room is yours, oh, I didn’t ask if you were hungry” spoke your sister, closing the large door behind her.

“Mmm, I don’t think you cooked anything” you jokingly replied.

“No, but you can order something" she replied obviously, playing along, “If you want I’ll pay for it.”

“Thank you, Miss, I’m fine for now. Where’s Chase?”

“Mmm… I think he’s in his room.”

You left your things in the extra room you were going to stay in and headed animatedly to greet the little boy. His door was already half open, so you decided to slowly walk in.

“Chaseee” you chirped.

You could hear the sounds of video games from his television and when you were finally inside you confirmed that it was little Chase playing, however, he was not alone. You saw the attractive back of a slender man with long black hair sitting on the boy’s bed. As soon as Chase jumped up to hug you, he turned around revealing an attractive clean face done to perfection, bushy straight eyebrows, sharp dark eyes, accompanied by rectangular glasses, a slightly prominent nose, and full lips. He smiled at you, his gaze and smile were warm, and he stood up from his place, putting the console aside and walking towards you.

“Hello, auntie Y/n” Chase greeted you adorably.

You were so engrossed in reading the man with your eyes that you barely noticed that Chase had paused his game to go over and hug you, you returned the gesture, still standing and only hunching your posture slightly to gently rest your arms on him.

“Hi, Chase” you greeted him animatedly, looking at him quickly and returning your gaze to the man, who now stood before you.

Up close he looked a little better. He dressed a little unusual, making him look a little nerdy, but something about his look and gaze radiated so much confidence as if he knew how incredibly handsome he was. His black hair was slicked back, leaving free little strands that fell gracefully towards his face, and he looked so young as his lightly tanned skin was so smooth, but at the same time, you could tell he was someone older than you. He was tall and his limbs were long, his arms, his fingers, his legs in those black pants of a washed-out denim, baggy on his body, a collared shirt of a soft, thick gray fabric with the designer’s name on the pocket detail, giving the appearance of wearing another button-down collared shirt of red and white grid patterns, watch on his wrist and a thin necklace decorating his slightly bare chest; he looked good, too good for your taste, it felt good just to look at him.

“Ah, Aunt Y/n, this is my Uncle Hyunjin” the little boy spoke again.

“Nice to meet you, Hwang Hyunjin” finally said the man in front of you.

He sounded young, and had a unique voice that rumbled inside you. He didn’t stop looking at you either, almost as if he was mesmerizing you as well. He extended his right hand, you saw his large limb before shaking it, enjoying his light squeeze.

“Nice to meet you, too” you replied, trying to hide your huge grin, smiling downwards.

“Ah, you must be Y/n, Missy’s little sister, right?” he was quick to say, to which you nodded, unable to speak, but you had to, something in your nature wanted to flirt with him, “I’m a close friend of Chan’s and I come here for a few days in the afternoons as a private tutor for Chase.”

Hyunjin thought in those moments that you were not so little after all, you were quite a young woman and he felt the need to explain to you what he was doing there, in fact he felt the need to talk to you, you were a fresh and pretty young woman, you sparked in him the curiosity to talk further; regret came later for him, as he read your subtle bright look, implying that you were also interested. Hyunjin was older and knew every move of the game perfectly, so he blinked suddenly, coming out of his trance as he recognized that you were beginning to arouse in him curiosity for another woman, when he was happily married for almost a decade to the love of his life and they had two beautiful children.

You didn’t know what to reply, your brain was working fast to respond instantly to the handsome man, Chan’s friend; however, the little boy interrupted.

“Oh yes, auntie Y/n, Uncle Hyunjin is the best, he teaches me physics and math and also loves computers. He’s a biomedical engineer with a PhD, don’t tell anyone but he’s my favorite uncle” Chase spoke quickly, impressing you that the whole academic area was very important to him at his young age.

Hyunjin laughed softly, lowering his gaze to look more tenderly at the boy with a very cute smile traced on his face, his cheeks lifted and his eyes narrowed more, you thought he was adorable too. Seconds later, before anyone else could speak, footsteps could be heard down the stairs and a booming, animated, “Heyy, mate, where are you my champ?” in Chan’s distinctive voice.

The man entered his son’s room with a huge smile narrowing his eyes, “There you are, my boy” he said happily, seeing his mini-me version of himself and his purest creation.

“Oh, hi, daddy!” ran Chase to hug him.

Chan squatted down to better embrace his son, looked up and said:

“Oh, hi everyone” Chan extended his hand, greeting you and Hyunjin, with a shy smile.

You smiled back, you had to admit that Chan was always a very attractive and well conserved man for his age, he was a good man, he loved his son, his wife and he had to wear a suit almost every day that looked great on his muscular body, no doubt they were both lucky, because your sister was extremely careful with her appearance and she was a dream, a prosperous and sexy woman in her thirties, childless and with a professional career.

“Alright, lil’ mate, enough video games, go play outside” Chan commented softly to Chase, watching his face tenderly and still holding him.

“Will you play with me, daddy?” he replied, eyes sparkling.

“How about you let me change my clothes and then I’ll go to play with you right away, okay? You can play with Hyunjin.”

Chan looked at him, stood up and Chase turned to look in the direction of the two of you.

“And with aunty Y/n, too!” exclaimed the little boy.

“Alright, she can play too” Chan replied in a tired sigh, loosening his tie more, making him look effortlessly attractive, “Go with Missy so she can put some sunscreen on you before you go out.”

“Oh, I can do it” you replied at once, to which Chan whispered a soundless thank you, leaving his son’s room.

And again you were alone with Hyunjin… and Chase. You were slightly nervous, you had never stood like that in front of a boy, but you thought it was perhaps because you were very sure that Hyunjin was not a boy, but a man and you had never witnessed such a unique beauty as his. Hyunjin placed his hands in his pockets, also wandering in his thoughts, distracting himself from thinking about you and waiting for you to finish putting sunscreen on the little boy.

But Hyunjin couldn’t help it, his problem was always that he imagined too much, he loved to do it, it was his gift and curse at the same time, he was a bit delusional and kept fantasizing about how old you were, if you had a boyfriend, what year of college you were in, what your major was; because all he knew about you so far was your name, that you were the little sister of the wife of one of his best friends and that you were studying at the university. But it felt so wrong to have an interest in another woman. Normally he is not like that, he’s kind of shy but he has to socialize in his work from now and then, and he does it with female colleagues, he asks them about their life, he eats with them together sometimes, with another of his colleagues, in his lunch break, he texts them without concern when it’s something work related, he wishes them happy birthday… but feeling interest in you somehow felt so heavy and so wrong to him… and he recognized deep down that it was because of the fact that he found you attractive, so those two things combined, just resulted in Hyunjin’s light flirting, something he hadn’t done in years, at least not to impress or get the attention of any woman other than his dearest and most beloved Yeji.

Hyunjin was a romantic, he could be a bit of a nerd but he loved living a glamorous life, money, travel and love; so he goes through life quietly, exploring and living all kinds of experiences and, he comes to recognize when another woman is beautiful to him, but then he just moves on, remembering that there is no one more beautiful than the woman who wakes up in his arms every day, but for him… feelings are extremely important, he lives on hunches and feelings… and something deep down inside him is hard for him or he thinks it will be, to just let it go just like that, getting rid of you.

You played a little soccer in the sunshine together with Chase and Hyunjin, but quit as soon as Chan joined them, exaggeratedly pretending to be exhausted and shouting ‘time out!’ over and over again, just to get out of the situation, making the two men laugh, and made Hyunjin find you adorable, thinking you had a very cute relationship with Chase. You weren’t like that with all the kids, most of the time you didn’t know how to treat them, except for Chan’s boy, who was someone very special and smart and you almost saw him grow up too.

You entered the house, heading to the kitchen for some water, you already knew the place very well, you had stayed there a couple of times, Chan always reminds you that you are more than welcome and you know the pure kindness of your brother-in-law in his actions and words.

You took a napkin to wipe the light sweat from your brow and stood there, enjoying your refreshing water and the coolness of the house from the air conditioning everywhere. But your tranquility was disturbed when you saw that Chan’s handsome friend also entered the kitchen, confidently grabbing orange juice from the refrigerator. He walked over to you without thinking, standing next to you, with his glass in hand and finally taking a sip of the juice.

You thought everything about him in seconds, as you watched him slyly do the deed: his long fingers intertwining in the glass cup making it small held by him, his eyes closing softly as he directed the glass to his plumpy lips, his long neck and Adam’s apple moving as he drank, the ends of his hair slightly damp with sweat, everything about him was wow, the scene passed so slowly, you wanted this man, you were so determined and pumped up, until something shiny dazzled all your hopes away. As he lowered the glass from his mouth you noticed a ring on his finger, an important ring that indicated he was a taken man, belonging to someone else.

Hyunjin didn’t notice or acknowledge your displeasure, so he just continued with his questions, with a slightly guilty but bright smile on his face, convincing himself that he only wanted to ask about you, out of kindness, and not because he was really interested…

“Mmm… and you came to visit Missy?”

You turned to stare at him, you couldn’t do it because it made you nervous, but at the same time you just wanted to watched him over and over, you were embarrassed because you had a million of not-so-nice thoughts about a married man. You thought you should have seen it coming, Chan is 38, and his friends should be around that age, but he... something about him still remained so young, but it was to be expected that a man that handsome in his thirties would be married, more so with that shy, nerdy look; but something about you wanted to read him as a mature man, single, living life by visiting the children of his friends who did have children… your brain spun around, thinking if Hyunjin had children too and who was the type of person waiting for him at home.

“Oh, something like that, but I’ll stay here for the summer if that’s what you’re asking” you replied, as normally as possible.

“Ah…I see” he couldn’t have been happier to know that there was a possibility of seeing you often, “I’ll be teaching a few days a week for Chase, like a summer course… I guess, I’ll see you around.”

His slight change in tone, his look… you couldn’t process the fact that he might be flirting with you. You decided to give him back his vibe, you knew it was wrong, unbelievably wrong and that you’d be internally calling yourself a slut for the rest of the week, but you leaned back slightly more comfortably on the edge of the kitchen counter, smiling:

“So… what are you doing here? I assume your work is hard.”

He released a chuckle.

“It is to those who don’t enjoy it. I’m head of the whole department so, that has its perks” he hissed softly and smugly.

Hyunjin licked his lips, smiling and checking you out completely, giving you chills and now without any doubt he was flirting with you. Once again he used a slightly smug tone as did his expression, you couldn’t believe it, your body temperature began to rise… no doubt this was a man telling you that he basically did what he wanted and that he was the one in charge.

“Oh, I see, biomedical engineer you said? Well… said little Chase, it must be very interesting, really.”

Hyunjin took another sip of his juice, finishing it completely, staring at you as he licked his lips again, this time less casually and more sensually, savoring every last taste of the sweet but sour juice.

“What’s your major?”

“Law” you wobbled softly in place, approaching him smoothly.

“Oh, just like Chan and your sister” he spoke interestedly, raising his eyebrows, to which you nodded, shyly, “What year are you in?”

“Third.”

“Ah, I see, you’ve been in college for a while now… at this point I want to assume you like it, huh.”

Hyunjin thought eighteen plus three, giving you the sweet age of 21, if you had already turned it, he thought what a very nice number, it seemed like a number that had no limits… you were free, young and beautiful, able to do anything. Or you could be 22, 23, either was fine for him, he felt comfortable talking to you.

You made a grimace, your mouth slightly pouting, a sign that you doubted it, which made him laugh, a laugh so cute that you almost forgot that he was a completely taken man.

“Well… I like it but it has its moments…”

“I guess it’s hard, you should never underestimate any major…” Hyunjin was just about to tell you something from him in college, but he held back, the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as an old man, as the age difference was slightly considerate, over a decade gap, that he was sure of, while you were playing and probably around Chase’s age, he was in college and dating his current wife, “But hey, I see you did great this semester, you’re already here relaxing a bit…”

You looked into his eyes the whole time, each time you were getting closer and closer until both of your bodies were getting tighter and tighter together, almost sticking your blouse in the waistband of his pants, it was as if you both enjoyed seeing each other. This time you looked at him, innocent, with shining bambi eyes, raising your gaze because he was taller than you, tilting your head and running your tongue along the inside of your cheek. Hyunjin had to resist, clenched his left fist, and almost fell to his knees, in pity; he had never seen, he thought, such bright eyes, such a unique gaze in which he could see his anguished reflection of a distressed older man grieving, eagerly wanting to take your young body and pin you against the wall, screaming and scolding you to stop looking at him like that just now or…. he could fall, he was doing it, his gaze lowered to your lips, shiny from the water you were drinking, he didn’t know what was wrong with him, he hated it, but the feeling of wanting someone was filling him again, suddenly he felt all his blood rushing through his body, he was so alive again.

You were about to talk, to ask him meaningless empty questions that you knew he would be compelled to answer you… because his worried expression spoke for itself. He was so frustrated you almost wanted to squeeze his soft cheeks, telling him he looks a little tender when he’s needy.

Thoughts were betraying Hyunjin so much, it was like his final day where a little devil was whispering all sorts of things in his ear, and the little angel on his other shoulder had completely abandoned him. His body tensed, if only you could read his thoughts… you might be able to judge how dirty he was. He felt filthy, a dirty married man lusting after a college girl, as if there was no other cliché.

You liked seeing him like that, you didn’t really do anything elaborate yet, you were perplexed to think it would work so fast, you just gave him your best innocent look asking for sex, your best fuck me eyes, and the man almost trembled in front of you. But you took it as a game, as much as you wanted to fulfill his every fantasy and whatever he was thinking, as much as you were dying to get down on your knees right there and give him a blowjob… he was married and god, you studied law you knew the huge controversy about adultery backwards and forwards, you couldn’t do it, even though something deep down inside tingled in you, besides your throbbing clit trapped in your panties.

Just as the thoughts were about to have a fatal effect on Hyunjin’s body, Chan and Chase interrupt you, breaking the tension and making you slide down the kitchen island to get away from the dangerous distance you were with Hyunjin.

“Daddy, let me sleep over at Suho’s house, please!” the boy exclaimed, entering the kitchen with his father in the back.

“Go wash up and get your things ready, I’ll talk to your Uncle Minho to tell him if you can stay.”

You and Hyunjin remained silent, Hyunjin pushed up his glasses with a single finger, nervous and agitated, with his hands resting on the counter, crestfallen and embarrassed, about to be caught doing something improper; you on your own part were calm, watching Hyunjin’s expression with amusement, he was almost on the verge of tears. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Chan who watched him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

“I have to go” Hyunjin suddenly spoke, his voice thick.

Oh, it was just starting to get good and create tension, you thought, disappointed, but you were comforted to see Chan agitated and sweaty in a sleeveless shirt, his strong arms and veins detonating; you couldn’t help it, you were just a girl with judgment and critical thinking, you admired your sister for getting someone very handsome.

“Oh, sure, Hyunjin, see you later.”

“Ah, yeah sure” he started to say nervously, avoiding looking at you, “Let Chase know I left, see you in a bit with rest of the guys… Bye, Y/n” he mentioned again a little awkward and more shy.

You smiled at the idea that he was so hard to read, he was confident, but then suddenly seemed so shy and clumsy, anyway, you thought that whoever he was married to, they were so lucky to have Hwang Hyunjin every day, while you… had him for the moment, just slightly wrapped around your finger, but you were sure it was a little slip and burst of lust, that he would go home with his partner and try to forget it all.

And he left, that time being the first time you met Hwang Hyunjin, an afternoon that moved every part of his world and left him thinking until his thoughts became a headache. Finally, he did exactly what you thought, he wanted to evade the guilt and his near slip. He came home, being greeted by the greatest loves of his life, his two sons, four and two years old, and his wife, who sweetly asked him how it went at Chan’s house, kissed him, and told him she had his clothes ready to wear for the night out with his friends later, without the slightest idea of what happened. Hyunjin knew the millions of opportunities he almost had, and a lot of women approaching him, but he was more shy and did not pay attention to them, he only had eyes and heart for Yeji… But now, how did he explain himself. He almost cried, however, he decided to release all those feelings and frustration by trying to make love to his wife, without success, it was relatively early for the kids to sleep and they were not giving them enough privacy; Hyunjin then remembered… they had gone weeks without intimacy with Yeji and sex was very important to him, they used to be so active and sexual, always on top of each other… but now, the last sexual encounter with the love of his life was when he gave her oral sex one morning before their kids woke up. He loved her, every part of her was delicious to him, and he knew her like a map by heart… yet the most typical frustration of a man ached in the deepest part of his being, not having sex. That night Hyunjin cried in the shower, masturbating thinking of you, and got ready, feeling pathetic when he still had it all, he was handsome, young, successful, and above all, he had time to stop and do things right.

You, on the other hand, stayed in to watch a movie with Missy, both of you relaxing, until little Chase went to disturb your peace a little.

“I’m off to Suho’s house now,” he warned.

Missy grimaced slightly, not wanting to go drop the little one off at the Lee’s house.

“Won’t your daddy drop you off?” asked Missy softly.

“Daddy’s still getting ready.”

“Ahh, I see, Y/n, take him,” your sister ordered you, causing you to be a little awed, but you couldn’t say no to the tender wobbly silhouette of Chase, all ready with a backpack on his back that Chan helped him sort out, “It’s here with the neighbors on the left.”

You smiled at Chase and got up from the couch to join him, he hurried off, leaving Chan’s property and heading for his friend’s house. It was getting dark, but there was still some light. You were surprised to see the house, thinking damn, little Suho must have a lot of money, or at least his parents, you had never paid attention to the rest of the houses, besides most of them were private properties, like Chase’s friend’s, he animatedly told you the code in secret so the gate could open, giving the view of a mansion… you knew the neighborhood was exclusive and Chan’s house was impressive, but this one you saw was much better.

You both walked to the door, now you knew why Chase couldn’t go alone, it was a few minutes walk despite being neighbors. You rang the doorbell, waiting a little over a minute for them to open.

“Oh, aunt, you’ll really like Suho!”

“Oh, Chase, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay and meet him…”

And they opened, abruptly, another handsome man, wearing a sleeveless black shirt showing off his strong arms and marked pecs and abs. He looked at you confused, almost in a rude manner, blinking in disbelief not knowing what you were doing on his property since he didn’t know you. Shiny, smooth, straight black hair, perfectly styled, his features were so sharp, sharp straight nose, big round feline eyes and thins lips with his pronounced nasolabial furrow. You thought about how many attractive men you had to see today and, if it was possible it was your lucky day.

“Can I help you…?” he was about to say, somewhat annoyed, frowning and narrowing his eyes.

“Uncle Minho!” greeted Chase, causing the man to lower his gaze and his countenance softened completely.

Minho laughed, hiding his upper lip slightly and showing his teeth.

“Ah, it’s you little Chase, come in, Suho is in his playroom.”

Chase suddenly became shy of Minho’s presence and came in a little embarrassed, being more respectful and less animated, giving you a little wave goodbye, and leaving you and Minho alone. You didn’t know anything about him, you barely even knew his name because Chase mentioned it and he was starting to intimidate you as well, his presence was so heavy but pleasant, his big eyes… if he saw you properly, he could look so kind… but just now he looked a bit unfriendly; even Hyunjin could have a bit more the appearance of a villain, but you couldn’t see him like that, instead Minho, something about him was so overbearing.

“Ah, I came to drop Chase off, I’m Missy’s sister… have a nice night!” you smiled at him, not knowing what to say.

Now Minho found you tender, he had already been impressed when he opened the door and the first thing he saw, as he was in a hurry as if to check through the cameras who it was, was a young girl, with the background of the sky painting itself in colors as night fell, your image was like a divine revelation, like an angel knocking on his door, but he hid the feeling perfectly.

“Wait” he stopped you, a great idea came to him, and you turned around, “What will you do today?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t know how to answer, to which he continued, “Ah, it’s just that… would you mind watching Chase and Suho for a moment? And… a little girl. It’s just that my wife and I have to go out…”

You felt your luck crumble once you heard him say he had a wife, although of him you were ready any time he mentioned it, something about him was so domestic, it was obvious, to you, that he screamed husband material. Besides… a mansion to have it by himself with his son didn’t sit very well with you. Now you understood that it was about him, his wife and two children, Sunho and a girl.

“Do you want me to tell Chan or Missy to see if they agree or…?” he spoke again when he got no answer,

“Oh no, it’s okay, sure, I’ll do it.”

He smiled broadly, looking incredibly attractive, you didn’t know if you liked Hyunjin or Minho more, either one, it was a forbidden little crush, that you hoped wouldn’t pass into anything more than from your own thoughts, you weren’t that crazy and cynical, right?

“Thank you! It’ll only be a couple of hours. I’ll pay you, obviously” he said letting you in to which you nodded and entered, “Suho!!! Come here” he shouted, scaring you a little, being all fatherly, “What did you say your name was?” he asked you softly in contrast to his previous shout, standing next to you.

“Y/n.”

Minho looked you straight in the eyes and nodded, within seconds Suho and Chase appeared in front of you, and your nephew smiled happily at you waiting for the news.

“Y/n is going to take care of you tonight. Be good boys and take care of yourselves and obey her” said Minho in a serious tone to which they nodded animatedly.

You observed Suho for the first time, he was so similar to Minho, but at the same time, there were some slight differences to him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Lee Suho” the little guy introduced himself so politely, causing you so much tenderness.

“Nice to meet you, Suho” you said with a smile.

Minho looked at you tenderly, and you deciphered that this was Lee Minho; he hadn’t even introduced himself and you had already said yes so he and his wife could have their moment.

“Go back to the playroom, Y/n will be right there in a minute” he warned, coming out of his trance, you liked hearing him say your name, “I’ll take you to meet Minji, she’s one year old, she’s so smart for her age” Minho spoke adoringly.

He guided you to what seemed to be her room, it was pink but still looked a bit sophisticated for a little girl’s, there were slight elements that gave you hints that it was a little girl’s room; you were impressed in every corner you knew of that house. As you entered you saw a slender woman playing with the little girl, both sitting on the floor.

“Park Suji” Minho spoke to her, a little coldly, catching the woman’s attention.

You noticed how he didn’t refer to her as Lee.

The woman turned around, causing you to finally see her fully and your jaw almost dropped to the floor, internally as on the outside you didn’t react. It was none other than Park Suji, one of the most recognized and highest paid actresses and celebrities, her face was everywhere, it was known that she was married and had two children, but she was extremely careful with her image and kept everything private, the world was dying to know what her children and husband looked like, everyone speculated that she had married a billionaire, but to her fortune, it was the handsome Lee Minho as her husband.

Suji looked at you both expressionlessly, waiting for Minho to speak.

“I got you a temporary babysitter, just for today, she’s Y/n, she won’t say anything, she’s Chan’s wife's sister” Minho explained himself a little frustrated.

Suji smiled broadly, finally hearing good news, she carried the girl and walked quickly in the direction of her husband.

“Thank you so much, honey, I knew you would, I love you,” she replied happily, giving Minho a kiss on the cheek, “Can you take care of Minji? I have to finish getting ready.”

Minho carefully carried his little girl, smiling at her instantly, Minho’s big eyes suddenly shone in adoration, seeing the baby return the gesture of happiness. You looked for brief seconds at Suji, she was so beautiful in person, she made a great pair with Minho, the two of them looked so fucking good together, you didn’t understand why Suji didn’t show him off to the world.

“Hey, my baby, she’s your newest friend, Y/n” Minho baby-talked, consumed with tenderness, making him press his lips together, gently squeezing her chubby arms.

You looked at him fondly, after being intimidating to you, seeing his soft side just because of his little daughter made you tender. Plus he looked fucking handsome with his big bare arms.

“As you can see, my life with Suji is very private, I really want to trust you that you won’t share any information, our children’s names, their appearances, ages…” Minho suddenly spoke seriously, his voice cutting and thick, returning to his intimidating self.

You shook quickly, “Oh, yes, I understand, Mr. Lee” you replied somewhat submissive and scared, making him smile sideways.

“Well, they’re all yours” he said, trying to pass you the little one to hold, but she objected mumbling a soft daddy, “Daddy will play with you, okay? I’ll bring Soonie to you, you want to see Soonie?” you held the little girl finally as she babbled a tiny Soonie, “I have three cats, they’re running around all over the house, I hope you’re not allergic. Well, I’ll finish getting ready and come say goodbye in a moment.”

Minho left in a hurry, leaving you stranded with his little girl in your arms, the little girl was calm and somewhat quiet with a stuffed animal in her arms, you saw her up close, she was completely the female version of Minho.

You didn’t know what to do, it was a bit easy to get lost in the house you didn’t know, but you went to Suho’s playroom, where at first he joked about being a girl-free space and minutes later he started having fun with his sister, who was running and shouting his name over and over again. Then you heard a shout from Minho, calling Suho back, he ran out, alerting him that we were all in his playroom.

Minho walked in, taking your breath away, he looked so casually dressed. He added a leather jacket on top of black sleeveless shirt, silver chains and necklaces with his light blue jeans.

“Okay, you know the emergency numbers and I’ll leave you mine just in case. I’ll be right back.” Minho addressed you.

“Daddy, did mommy leave too?” Suho asked him.

“Didn’t she say goodbye to you?”

Suho softly shook his head with a slight pout and wide eyes, to which you caught a glimpse of Minho annoyed, sighing and rolling his eyes almost disappointed. You passed your cell phone to Minho to type in his number a little nervously, you booked it as Lee Minho. He typed quickly on your cell phone and passed it to you; saying goodbye to all the kids with affection and goodbye to you with a gentle see you later.

Hours passed, you talked to your sister about how you got caught and you couldn’t say no, she laughed and joked about how Chan’s friends were all dilf’s. You gossiped with her a bit, having a celebrity as a neighbor, to which Missy told you that Minho works in an extremely famous entertainment company, which Suji is a part of and from there their love story began.

As it got later in the night you gave them dinner because Suho suddenly wanted pizza, hesitantly you asked Minho by message what his kids were eating, you didn’t want to bother him, but he immediately replied that it was okay to order pizza for the boys, as long as Suji didn’t notice, as she apparently had a healthy diet specifically for their kids; he only helped you a little by telling you what to feed little Minji. Finally getting ready for bed both children, six-year-old Suho, and 7-year-old Chase, completely independent in their routines, put on their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and went to sleep. The real challenge was little Minji who suddenly started crying, you didn’t know what to do, her diaper was clean, she had no fever, and she had eaten well… you were scared for a while, until you put cartoons on her and she managed to calm down little by little, leaning her little body on yours on the couch, where you both fell completely asleep.

You lost track of time and a manly voice calling your name softly woke you up, startling you a little, and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Minho’s attractive face looking at you carefully and closely. Once you woke up, he pulled away a little, and you felt embarrassed to realize that you had his little daughter cuddled up, sleeping next to you on the couch, thinking what a good job it was to have left her in her comfy bed, but the TV was still playing cartoons.

“Oh, Mr. Lee, I’m sor-”

“It’s okay, I arrived a little later than expected, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, a little frustrated, you wised up, noticing a relaxed expression on his face and his drooping eyelids, “I imagine Suji hasn’t arrived, right?” this time he slurred his words a little but did his best to sound aligned, you shook and a displeased expression reappeared, “It’s okay, let me take Minji to bed and I’ll come back to you.”

Minho approached his daughter, who whimpered softly as she was moved but instantly recognized her daddy’s strong arms. You were restless waiting, it was almost 3 a.m. and you wanted to sleep. He returned after a few short minutes.

“Did the kids behave well?” he said as he returned, to which you just nodded.

Minho suddenly moaned in a soft groan, “Agh, I drank too much. Y/n, it’s late, do you want to sleep over in the guest room or shall I walk you to Chan’s house? He’s there, we just arrived.”

He stared into your eyes, you felt like a little girl changing houses. Suddenly, the not-so-nice thoughts appeared in your head but now with Minho.

“Will you be alright in the morning?” you mentioned somewhat sheepishly, as you noticed he did look a little drunk.

Minho smiled, “Of course I will.”

“I… I can go to Chan’s house by myself, it’s just a few minutes away…”

He shook his head disapprovingly softly, “Come on, I’ll walk you quickly, everyone’s asleep.”

You made a very good impression on Minho the first time he met you, he thought at least for a few minutes in totality, about you, but then stopped as he got distracted and told himself he has better things to think about. And you, in those short minutes when he walked by your side, you saw him slyly, his hair shone under the light poles illuminating the street and the road, something about him was very different from Hyunjin, as much as you wanted to flirt with him, something stopped you and it wasn’t exactly morals and ethics.

That meeting Minho had with his friends had been chaotic and he learned slightly more about you, when Hyunjin suddenly brought the topic of conversation to the table, you… causing Minho to be immeasurably curious as to how it was that you knew Hyunjin and why you met him before him. Later Hyunjin realized that you were texting each other as you babysat Minho’s children, making a slightly inebriated Hyunjin think about hiring your services as soon as possible just to see you longer.

He finally left you at the door, where he quickly pulled out his wallet to pay you for your very unexpected service. You didn’t know how much a babysitter earned for a night, but you were sure that the amount he was giving you was a bit exaggerated, you tried to tell him, but he refused and before you both could say more, an also slightly drunk Chan opened the door.

“Ah, there you are, Y/n, come in. Goodbye, Minho” you turned to see him, unable to say thank you as Chan had closed the door.

“Sweet dreams” he wished you, leaving with tired steps to his room.

That was the time you met Lee Minho for the first time. There was no need for your intervention for him to start doubting his wife, he had been doing it for months, since Minji was born they started to have problems since Suji always wanted only one child; Minho agreed since it was her body and they would make a nice family anyway, but there was a time when Minho mentioned how much he wished for two since he grew up a bit lonely being an only child and always wondered how it felt to have a real sibling, Suji did not take it seriously and by an accident, she became pregnant with Minji, after four arduous years of taking care of herself after Suho’s birth, however, she did not tell anyone about her pregnancy and was planning on having an abortion, she was already contacting her manager to schedule doctor’s appointments, but that afternoon after taking the pregnancy test, her sister came into her bathroom to find it and getting excited, she congratulated Minho without a second thought. He found out while he was at work and ran to his wife to ask her what was going on, she told him that she refused to keep them, she was about to start filming a show and didn’t want to feel pregnant. Minho had to put up with it and let her do what she wanted, he knew perfectly well that she was not going to listen to him, she was not going to listen to him when he said how much he dreamed of feeling another little one in his arms again and being there for her at any moment, but to Suji’s bad luck, her sister had already told her parents, she was so genuinely happy that she could not contain herself, so Suji, out of intense love and respect for her conservative and religious parents, kept the fetus, but she really didn’t want to, arguing that her body would be deformed, that she was already in a critical situation being in her thirties, that one more pregnancy and birth would destroy her career.

But Suji’s problem was never with Minji, she loved and loves her creation resulting from her loins, sweat and pain… but somehow she took it out on Minho, resulting in endless fights and an incredible lack of communication. Minho didn’t understand, he loved her with a fierce passion… but since Minji’s pregnancy she stopped being the one he loved.

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But after the anguish and pain, a fatal relief came to the tormented souls of those two men. A relief so beautifully short-lived, the first time they both tasted the forbidden fruit, and the first sinner to commit the heinous act of adultery was Hwang Hyunjin.

After a week of getting to know each other, of flirting with him when no one was around, of talking and talking endlessly with certain guilty looks of desire, that’s when it all fell apart. One Saturday, when you let yourself get carried away with pleasure without thinking about the horrible consequences of your actions.

Missy informed you a day before that she would have her first meeting with the wives of their respective husbands, of Chan’s friends and that she felt happy and included, as a new woman; she mentioned that they accepted the invitation and that it was probably only because she was married to Chan and she would invite his close friends with their families. Missy invited you too and you couldn’t deny the opportunity to host a gathering full of mature and incredibly hot men of their ages. You couldn’t deny it, ever since you met Hyunjin, and from time to time talked to Minho, your mind was racing with thoughts of having a taste for men who were older. You fantasized about how experienced they must be, the way they must move, your thoughts made your legs go limp.

And it all happened the next day, when you did your best to dress slightly elegant but casual knowing the kind of people you were going to see, like Minho’s superstar wife and a few other rich women. Finally, the perfect families arrived, at least some perfect in appearance, the Hwang family, Lee, and one more, the small Han family of childless newlyweds. And then Missy and you showed up, whose women internally judged both of you to be the youngest of them all and not so much in keeping with their group, somehow. They thought for a few seconds that you were like some sort of dolls, two bimbos designed to make men happy but not enough to take you seriously enough to marry you.

You saw Hyunjin arrive with his wife and two children with his same slitted eyes and something inside you died. You had to stop, you couldn’t start creating more temptation in him, flirting with him felt so much worse. You met Yeji, a beautiful woman with long straight hair, dyed light brown color, she was also incredibly gorgeous, you even stopped understanding the reason why Hyunjin would even fantasize about you, having someone like her every day.

Then the Lee family appeared, with Suji’s perfect, clean-cut appearance. To be honest, you hadn’t flirted with Minho since, besides the fact that you hardly saw him often, you didn’t think Minho was an easy target, something about him made you extremely nervous, sometimes he looked at you normally, sometimes softly with slight sweetness but there were also times when he was so intimidating.

And lastly, Han Jisung, you didn’t know him that well, he looked slightly younger than the rest but his face was so mature, as was his soft and deep voice; he was accompanied by his young wife and they had just married in the spring.

The children were playing in the huge Chan’s yard, the women were sitting in a shaded area, ready to be served by their husbands… And you, you were there as an outsider, being the youngest of the group, not belonging to any man who was cooking, unless of course if thoughts spoke, you would mentally be Hyunjin’s property, he drove you crazy, he was so witty and nerdy that you wanted to do so many things to him.. and deep down, only with this one you had a harder time accepting it since you knew his kids, he was Minho’s, fuck, you would do anything just for a little touch from Minho, he was unbelievably hot and his sex appeal was undescribable. Something about those two men made you super horny and you were sick of holding back.

So, you just watched them secretly, between complicit glances, of which Hyunjin returned each one of them, however, Minho was taking care of Minji, while Yeji was taking care of her youngest two-year-old —at the same time not taking her eyes off her other son playing with Chase and Suho—, whose adorable little boy with the same face as his father was sitting nicely still on his mother’s lap. He was so quiet and adorable, you definitely felt so guilty sleeping with his daddy.

Yeji called Hyunjin to come over, telling him if he could please bring her Yoojin’s favorite toy, the youngest boy of them, which he had forgotten in the car and the adorable boy was starting to get restless for his toy and, while Hyunjin was there, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, the typical question of one of them asking you if you had a boyfriend, if there was some one interesting in your college, if you saw yourself formalizing with someone; Hyunjin suddenly felt jealous but was comforted to know that you didn’t have a boyfriend and thought that he could treat you better than any other immature boy of your age.

You for yourself felt stupidly bad about the obvious closeness of him and his wife, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, you knew it was pathetic and illogical to feel this way and that you needed a really good reality check, that your silly fantasies were not going to be fulfilled and that you were getting carried away with a married man with children.

You watched them play, endearing and making you feel miserable, Hyunjin and Yeji, smiling in the grass, with Yoojin and Yoohyun, the little boy and big brother. You felt a little listless and slowly walked into the house, not wanting to see anyone, not having the slightest idea that your image hadn’t faded Hyunjin and Minho’s mind and thoughts.

You sat on a couch in the living room, checked your cell phone uninterested thinking that you had worn your very nice and elegant sundress, had done your hair and makeup to… impress men out of your limits. You wanted to laugh at yourself, you really did, but a part of you seriously needed to try at least one of them or you felt like you were going to die, besides… you just wanted some sex, it wasn’t like you were looking to snatch their love for their wives.

You sighed in frustration, you were seriously about to text a guy your age from one of your classes just so you could see each other and please you, you had sex a couple of times, and at least this time you could imagine it was Hyunjin or Minho filling your pussy. You were really about to message him, you were in his chat trying to decipher the perfect message, but a bigger mistake suddenly appeared.

“Why that face?” a voice you knew so well spoke you softly.

He had managed to sneak away and searched for you until he found you, sitting looking like a beautiful little doll in your short dress. You looked up, meeting Hyunjin’s long physique, your gaze swept from his thighs to his face which had an adorable smile on it. However your eyes stopped for a second on his crotch, whose bulge in his jeans was so visible and wasn’t even hard, you salivated, thinking about how incredibly big his cock must be, causing you to shiver as it excited you a little.

Hyunjin adjusted his glasses and sat down next to you, so close to you that your thighs touched the denim of his pants. You raised your shoulders with a little pout, Hyunjin found you so cute, he wanted to rub his whole cock on your face, he had never felt such a big sexual appetite as just now, he wanted to satiate all his desires and satiate you, the magnetism of your bodies was incredible.

“I don’t know” you replied nonchalantly, you now being the one to divert your thoughts, he was married and his wife was out with their children, it wasn’t fair, “There are a lot of people out there.”

He laughed incredulously, not taking his eyes off you.

“Adults outside bore you a bit, don’t they?” he asked in an amused tone.

You nodded softly, watching him and downplaying it and trying to calm the small fire that lit your insides, you needed him so badly that you lowered your gaze to your thighs, unable to cease your thoughts and emotions.

“Then let’s have some fun, I’m a little bored too” he whispered to you so seductively that he caught your attention quickly and you found him licking his lips, you watched him raptly, as if you had imagined his phrase, but no, “What do you guys do nowadays for fun?” he purred, completely aroused and, a little hesitantly, he placed his large hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it gently.

You saw his hand and then you saw him. You couldn’t say no, you could, but you didn’t want to. You wanted every inch of him making you smile like you never had before.

Just this once, you promised and prayed, just this once you will have sex with someone married, you thought as you swore in vain, you hoped you would be forgiven and never caught.

“Would you like to know my kind of fun?” you smiled broadly.

Hyunjin nodded frantically, stroking your thigh; his cock throbbed in his pants within seconds of touching you, your soft, smooth skin, you looked so angelic to him that he could get down on his knees and make you his new religion, he needed you, he could eat you day and night, he couldn’t even organize his thoughts. He had lost himself, he never thought he could control his lust and put it over everything and everyone. He moved his hand up, closer and closer until he approached your center, feeling in him a rush of adrenaline, as if he was about to reach a goal that he exahusively determined to reach. You watched him, every limb of his manly body, weak, taut and yielding in sex, his bulge grew, his eyes sparkled… he was a new man, ready to fuck.

“But let’s do it somewhere else” you tried to say.

You were so weak too, you were a young woman about to fulfill her fantasy, it was obvious that your body was vibrating with excitement.

You stood up, your pussy was soaking wet and he barely caressed your thigh. You led him to your room, in such a fugitive and manic way, checking that there was absolutely no one inside the house who could see you enter the same room. Walking so excitedly feeling your sticky folds with every step you took. And wasting no time, once you locked the door, you raised your gaze, Hyunjin watched you with his sharp dark eyes as if he was catching his prey, with a smug smile on his face and in timid steps he approached your body, until he joined your body to his completely, finally catching your lips so passionately and desperately.

Hyunjin held you from your lower back sticking you to his body and performing the dirtiest and most atrocious act ever committed in his entire life, an adulterous relationship, an affair outside of his matrinomy, but the dirty man didn’t think for a second about all the life he led and built with hard work and love around the years, he was crazy but only his brain was working to think of you and the throbbing pain in his crotch from his well erect member.

You tried to keep up with his rhythm, his lips felt just as you had imagined them, soft and fluffy, and he kissed with such skill that it was a little hard for you to keep up with him but you enjoyed every second of the act, of his big hands lifting your dress to squeeze your ass, his erection colliding with your body and his face attached to yours to the point of feeling his glasses bump into your face, everything about him made you so horny and you couldn’t believe it was happening. His attacked somehow slow and romantic kisses continued, satisfying the inside of your mouth to perfection until surrendering in breathlessness, yet he kept depositing little pecks on your lips, so lost in you, every part of you that he wanted so much, finally for himself.

Slowly, Hyunjin opened his eyes again to pleasantly meet your face, smiling at it in a mischievous way and almost immediately, you got down on your knees, impressing him a little and making him eager to know exactly what you were about to do, he never wanted you to stop.

Both bodies were tense, lewd and full of sin in a spiritual context, surrounded by evil and lust, both bodies engulfed in flames ready to unburden their darkest secrets on that bright summer afternoon.

You licked your lips, two of your very important organs throbbing in pleasure for the forbidden, your heart protruding from your chest and your pussy getting more and more lubricated, you watched him with feigned innocence behind your not virgin eyes and unbuckled his belt, and the tedious button and zipper that blocked you from tasting your new favorite food, you were so hungry for his cock that you thought you would explode with excitement. You swallowed nervously at the sight of a big size still in his boxers and, finally you could take it raw in your hands, making Hyunjin let out a soft whimper.

“Fuck, play with my cock as much as you want, baby, please” Hyunjin whimpered needily, stroking your face and hair delicately.

His comment coming from the deepest part of his darkest desires sent an electrifying shock to your sensitive spot of your needy femininity, which was begging for some spoiling as well. Hyunjin was lost, he wanted to take you, to see what he swore would be the most delicious and pretty pussy his eyes had ever seen, so shiny and dripping for him, but an unknown force was taking over his fragile body and it wasn’t exactly guilt, it was something inexplicable that he let himself be carried away by every single thing you decide to do, he was for you and by you, absolutely devoted.

You looked at his erect and throbbing shaft between your two hands, thinking it was obvious you’d have too much fun, Hyunjin was ridiculously big, long like the rest of his limbs; you didn’t wait to play with his entire length, unable to believe he was hiding such an amazing cock under his tender and nerdy appearance, sometimes a bit of a loser.

You wanted to rub your whole pussy on his cock, it really impressed you, you had never seen one this big, but you just limited yourself to masturbating him, with trembling hands palpating every corner of his sex, from carefully and gently squishing his balls while resting his tip leaking precum in your tongue with your mouth open.

“Do you like it, Mr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin sighed and nodded, so excited by the formal way you spoke to him, even though you know he likes to be called simply Hyunjin.

“Ye-es, please keep doing it.”

He was so desperate for the moment he didn’t even know where to place his hands, he looked first timer, he felt first timer, like he was doing it for the first time and his cock was getting to know the feeling of a warm cavity to please him. He forgot the last time his wife had blown him, he was so hormonal and needy, but just radiating delicious, masculine pheromones that made you lose your mind. Tasting a man’s sweet, big cock, you felt so fulfilled. His hands found your hair again and you began to suck him hard, squeezing your cheeks so he could feel the softness of your mouth. Hyunjin trembled, so close to his orgasm as you teased him to the limit.

You continued more confidently, licking his entire length, moistening it to dirty slurping sounds on it, teasing his needy, squirting, pink glans, until you took his cock again, wrapping your lips around it, struggling to get it deep into your mouth.

Hyunjin whimpered, babbling your name, his every energy was focused on his cock and as he felt you sucking him at an exquisite pace, bobbing your head all over his cock, it was doom for him, you were doing it so well he had to throw his head back panting “Fuck.”

Hyunjin bit his lip, holding back his moans and watching you take his cock so well he grabbed more of your hair into a sort of ponytail to gently push you in, he didn’t want you to take your lips off his cock, his pumping sex hadn’t felt this good in a while, all of him came alive again.

“Fffuck, mmm baby, I’m gonna cum, you’re sucking it so good, oh my god.”

You would have liked his cock to fuck your throat, but you didn’t want to hurt yourself, he was so big you just wished he would use his big gift for good, and so he could keep fucking you, you wanted him so bad.

You sucked harder, masturbating the rest of his length, you were so turned on you thought about bringing one of your hands up to your pussy to attend to it a little. Hyunjin gasped in exasperation and cum all the way into your mouth. Saliva and his cum started coming out of your gob and you pulled his cock out of your mouth for a few shots to stain your chin making you smile broadly. Hyunjn was so full that he wanted to keep fucking you until you pumped him dry, no kidding, he wanted to be completely yours.

Hyunjin was ready to continue with you but the sound of his cell phone indicating a call in his pants pocket that lay lowered halfway down his legs startled you both. He snapped back to reality, he had loved the way you had done it and would pray for it to be repeated again and again… but you weren’t alone, there were people outside, waiting for you, and his family was one of them. Hyunjin nimbly pulled up his underwear and pants, adjusting his big cock and verifying that indeed his call was from his wife.

You stood up, somewhat confused, to which he leaned close to your ear to whisper:

“I’m sorry I didn’t make you cum, next time I’ll make sure to take care of you, okay?”

Next time… you thought.

Hyujin was about to leave, but shyly asked you if you could let him know there was no one there, you did, telling him there was no one around so he walked out of there, leaving you with your heart racing and incredibly aroused, you couldn’t calm down, you were so frustrated you had to play alone a little with your pussy until you made yourself cum with your own fingers.

Hyunjin felt dirty and guilty, but you made him see stars and now he was addicted to you. He just hoped he didn’t look so agitated.

On the way, Hyunjin met Minho, who was looking for you since your sister asked for you and he offered to do so, without any objection, however he met a nervous Hyunjin who strangely denied in a heavy manner to have seen you and left, leaving Minho blinking in confusion and came to your room, where he was about to knock on your door and call your name, but sweet somewhat strange and compromising sounds awakened something in him all of a sudden. You were moaning softly, holding back the sounds as you filled your pussy with your fingers, fantasizing about being touched by someone else, fantasizing that it was Hyujin and his big cock, you were so damn horny that you couldn’t calm down, you only got more aroused and prolonged your orgasm more.

Minho could decipher that your sounds were sexual and his mind went off in all possible scenarios, just like Hyunjin, he hadn’t gotten good sex in a while…

You on your hand, kept playing with your whole vulva, caressing and penetrating your slick entrance while thinking and thinking… putting yourself in his wife’s place, thinking that if you would have a hot husband and a promiscuous college girl managed to seduce him you would surely cut his penis in his sleep, but shit, it’s just that Hwang Hyunjin? you didn’t want him to waste his amazing size by not using it, you could take care of him.

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Your second atrocious and immoral act, was attributed to Lee Minho. You couldn’t deny it, the damage was already done, you already felt like a dirty slut and you might go to hell but the taste and feeling of Hyunjin’s big cock struggling to enter your cavity was not taken away from you by anyone.

A little secret didn’t hurt anyone if it was taken to the grave, right?

Ever since Minho heard you moan like a dirty needy little slut, or so he thought, every aspect he had of you changed, before he saw you as the pretty girl who was somehow Chan’s family and rarely thought of you, like when he felt lonely at times of the day, he would start thinking about what a young girl like you would do, oh, but after that afternoon, the sweet sounds of pleasure from your mouth made him so hard that he had to go off to work it out on his own, thinking it was unfair the way you left him and that you had to be even. That day he wanted to break down your door to fuck you right there.

Chan was giving you opportunities to visit his office to see a few cases and it just so happened that the big entertainment company that Chan also works for and of course, Minho does there too, was across the long avenues, but were basically across the street from each other.

It was strange, but suddenly Minho started visiting Chan more, hoping to find you there and when he did, he would take the opportunity to flirt with you in his unique way, which worked very well for you, you liked Minho so much but wanted to deny it.

Minho was more… you couldn’t explain it but he was more different, in fact he was so different from Hyunjin. Minho despite being rich liked to live a simple life and enjoyed the little things, it was as if being a father and being in a house suited him so well, he was such an old man. But he also had fantasies and liked to have a little fun, in fact he loved to tease people, which he started to do and you didn’t know how to act at first, maybe you were quite intimidated by the fact that his wife was literally a superstar, yet that didn’t stop him so that one afternoon when he seemed friendly and happy, he talked to you and as fate would have it, Chan stepped out for a brief moment, leaving you and Minho alone, so he began to tell you what he did at work and how he was also a professional choreographer and dancer, impressing you but justifying his maintained appearance and body.

He started joking with you, which made you feel good, his smile was adorable and you could melt right there just listening to his laugh. Minho started talking to you about a supposed new choreography which he invented and…. one second it was laughter and games and the next it became completely serious, as he suddenly stood behind you, holding your waist and placing his face next to yours, Minho had never touched you before because there was no need to. Your body tensed and your breathing momentarily cut off.

“And I’ve told the boys to take their work very seriously, dancing can leave them exhausted at times” Minho whispered close to you.

You found it meaningless what he had said, what did that have to do with him touching you, lowering one of his hands to your ass and the other near your pussy, but you didn’t complain.

“I had to tell them that in order to find themselves in such a sensual dance, they should start doing sensual things too…”

You were transfixed at his touch, he moved his body closer until you finally felt the touch of his cock as he was wearing loose shorts that clung a bit to his body, at least in his exquisite crotch.

You didn’t say anything, you just enjoyed the moment and how your body was struggling to keep up, but you were beginning to get hopelessly aroused.

“But me… who can help me with that, to give them my best too…”

Minho squeezed your pussy, surprising you, his whole hand under your femininity over your jeans. You collapsed, losing yourself, but before you could react, he pulled away from you abruptly.

“And well I also told them that creating some good tension on stage might be good for them by having the audience hooked on their movements” Minho spoke more relaxed, as if nothing had happened, almost in a mocking tone.

You turned to look at him, distressed. Minho had a haughty smile on his face and laughed softly in such amusement, naughtily running his tongue across his lips, but you didn’t find it funny, you found it ridiculous the way he had to approach and touch you, or so you wanted to feel as you were pathetically horny, screaming for sex from a mature, married man. Again, from a new man.

He saw your expression, so tenderly needy with eyes begging him to touch you again. He found it amusing and got even with you by letting him masturbate in the bathroom that day at Chan’s house. However, your expression… drove him crazy, he wanted to fuck you so hard until your pleading look is genuine, until you are covered in tears and in his cum. The thought made his cock twitch in despair.

“Minho…” you whispered, seeing his face and body in his snug, comfortable, sporty clothes.

His expression changed, giving you a dirty look, “Minho? Address me with respect, I’m older than you, kid.”

His authoritative tone and annoyed expression shouldn't have excited you so much, but it did, almost weakening your legs. Before he acted, however, Chan arrived.

And the next day it really happened, when you used the old technique of a slightly provocative outfit, getting all dolled up and thinking that if that worked on Minho it would be funny if he fell for the most typical and obvious, but you had to resort to that, you didn’t know how to approach him properly, when in fact you shouldn’t even do it.

But you were dying for a taste of Minho. One more unforgivable act and you would stop, you swore again.

Minho kept thinking about you, but he had no plans to fuck you, he had done enough with teasing you and that had already turned him into something he never thought he would be, a fucking cheating bastard, since he had no reason to touch another woman. But he kept fantasizing about how good you must feel, how inexperienced you must be, all horny, riding a cock senselessly and frantically believing that was the right way to satisfy a man, since that’s how you’d been taught to do it, at least by the dumb, immature college boys, or so he thought. Minho would be lying if he denied that he was incredibly attracted to you. But it was so wrong.

That day he casually went to see Chan on legal advice about something that came up as a conversation at his work earlier in the day, he could talk to him on the phone, but he wanted an excuse to at least see you, if he wasn’t going to allow himself to fuck you.

And he found you, attractively sitting behind a desk reading some papers, making notes, so focused and cute, making him feel so guilty and dirty as he had recurring thoughts of your weak sex-weary destroyed body.

But your face lit up at the sight of him and your attention was drawn to him.

Minutes later in the midst of conversation with his friend, Chan had to apologize and said that he remembered he had to leave urgently and it would take perhaps all afternoon, if Minho could please go drop you off at his house, to which strangely for Chan, Minho agreed instantly, leaving you alone once again at such a critical point for both of you.

Minho came dangerously close to you, with the dirty thought of fucking you on his friend’s desk, but he had to stop himself.

“Chan had to leave, I’ll drop you home” he spoke to you sharply.

“Now? I’ll leave now?”

“Yes, that’s when I have some time off.”

You had gone over the situation, feeling even guilty about raising looks from Chan towards you, that was not what you wanted, Chan was never your target because you had enormous respect for him and you thought that maybe you should start acting sane and also keep respect for his friends, stopping all the craziness.

You grabbed your stuff and your short skirt got exactly the kind of reaction you wanted from the beginning for Minho to have. It took nothing for him to drop you off at Chan’s house, go back to his job where his wife was busy on another floor and fuck her right there, but it took nothing for him to fuck you either.

“Oh, sure, wait here, I’ll go get my car,” he said.

He was so engrossed that he stopped thinking clearly. You got in his car, leaving Chan’s assistant to close the place later at closing time.

You were nervous and tried to distract yourself, thinking about how his car looked so good on him, it looked just like the kind of car Lee Minho would drive, you thought about what to eat once you got to the house, you just wanted to stop the crazy ideas, but now it was Minho who had them.

You didn’t even see him drive and acted modestly, while his piercing gaze saw every part of you, of your subtle cleavage and skirt so short he could see your panties easily in that position. Minho cursed menatally and thought he should have let you order a fucking cab. Chan argued that Missy was at some sort of all-important convection for Chase and they had the tickets for a while, so he didn’t want to disturb them at their bonding time and he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

You felt his heavy gaze and stirred a little excitedly in the seat, revealing a little momentary glimpse of your white panties. Minho tightened his grip on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead, so annoyed and helpless that he couldn’t do anything, he pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose a little, trying to calm himself down, you were literally doing nothing and you had him with his libido full, his mind spinning and his cock so hard it was squeezing in his jeans.

Minho was blinded in lust and finally spoke, confessing what his mind always wanted you to know:

“I bet you taste delicious.”

You blinked in confusion, thought you hadn’t heard his murmur right, innocently believing he was talking about food all of a sudden. Minho stopped at a red light and you both turned to look at each other. His intense gaze surprised you and you noticed him subtly agitated, his expression was serious and monotonous but his breathing was heavy, he was aroused, you noticed, it was impossible not to see his notorious bulge protruding from his pants.

You felt dizzy and heated, thinking how unreal the situation was.

“Excuse me?” you asked almost breathlessly.

“That I bet you taste delicious. I want to taste your sweet pussy until I make you scream, that’s what I said.”

You were surprised by his boldness and honesty. Minho spoke to you so directly, in such a demanding and serious tone, but you managed to see his slight sparkle in his eyes, almost enjoying what he said. He moved the car forward and it wasn’t superfluous to say that your world spun in every possible way.

“And… where will you do it Mr. Lee?” you returned to yourself, your weak body filled with pity and guilt glowing in desire again.

Minho smiled, so happy all of a sudden.

“I can’t fuck you in the car, the daylight is too bright. But we can do it at my place, there’s no one there now.”

You shivered and Minho was so happy that you easily agreed that he caressed your thigh; you sighed softly, he enjoyed teasing you until he brought his hand to your pussy, you didn’t understand how he could look so calm, with his cock aching and still driving while he pulled the fabric of your panties aside to caress your pussy, you were already a mess, it felt so good, but it was so wrong.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, I see” Minho giggled softly, “We’re almost there, doll. Don’t worry.”

And Minho was almost cumming in his pants, his cock screaming for attention. All of you were doing it.

You arrived, Minho’s wife was gone, his children were being watched by his mother, everything was lining up perfectly for you, it seemed. You felt dirty again, with an ache in your chest but you couldn’t stop, you kept thinking about his mouth on your pussy.

Minho turned off from his cell phone every security camera in his house and directed you to a room, which didn’t look fancy enough to be his main room, but still looked spacious, nice and clean.

“Take off your clothes, sweetie” he commanded, so desperate, his hands on his hips waiting as he gasped for breath.

You obeyed him in a heartbeat, you felt so dirty filled with a voracious sexual hunger. Minho watched you, biting his lip eagerly until he saw you naked in front of him.

“Fuck” he sighed breathlessly, lust in person, so young and full of life, with soft round breasts and hard nipples, “Lie down and spread your legs, I’m gonna fucking eat your pretty pussy.”

His gaze was so penetrating and in trembling, excited steps you did his bidding, a command so rough and tactless it made your clit vibrate.

He moved closer to you, admiring you in that position with a smug smile, so submissive and begging to be serviced. He wanted to hear you ask for it. However, Minho resisted no more and pulled down his pants and underwear with a tug, you caught a glimpse of his big and taut cock so erect before he got on his knees facing the edge of the bed and in front of your pussy. You sighed, he was just as you expected.

Minho bit his lip at the sight of your exposed lubricated vulva, which throbbed in untouched pleasure.

“Look at you” he began to say amused, “the little slut so horny, tell me how badly you want it, say it now.”

You gasped as you felt the fingertip of his index caress your clit, your cheeks were beginning to burn in embarrassment, wanting to tell him that he was just as needy for pleasuring someone younger who was not his wife, such an old man horny for the forbidden.

Minho brought his face close to your pussy finally with you feeling his heavy hot breath and breathing, you shivered, watching him with your elbows resting on the mattress, he saw your whole body perfectly from that angle.

At this point you had no dignity, sex with two older, married men in a period of days were your biggest mistakes. So begging Lee Minho didn’t sound so bad after all.

“I-I want you to eat me, Mr. Lee.”

Minho smiled widely.

“Magic word” he requested, his eyebrows raised as if he was reminding something to a kid.

“Please” you whispered haltingly.

Minho gently pinched your clit before withdrawing his hand and taking care of your sensitive spot with his mouth. You moaned, small shocks of pleasure filled your body at the sensation of his warm and steady tongue making circles on your clit, then taking it over completely, biting and sucking hard, sticking his soft lips on the skin of your pussy. You arched your back and reflexively brought one of your hands to his soft, straight hair as you struggled to lean back with your other arm because you didn’t want to let him out of your sight, he looked so attractive with his face buried in your core. Minho left his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly and with the other he caressed the rest of your pussy, your sticky wet labia until he reached down to tease your entrance with his thick thumb, subtly inserting it making you sigh in desperation.

He finally lowered his mouth slowly to the rest of your cunt, licking and sucking your folds until he inserted two of his strong fingers into you, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise, Minho smiled with his lips pressed against you. You were a mess, you had never had your pussy eaten with so much attention and patience, you could tell he knew what he was doing and exactly which spots to touch, lick, nibble and suck, you were going crazy; most guys your age would lick senselessly and without a rhythm, with their exhausted jaws wanting to make you orgasm, they were inexperienced, they would be offended if you told them which spots to touch and you had to beg for oral sex… but Lee Minho, the expert Minho didn’t have to take any orders, he was giving them and he was making you see fucking heaven.

His fingers were filling your pussy so well like no one ever had before, digging deep inside you, your walls squeezing his digits so satisfyingly as he feasted himself on your delectable young cunt. Minho’s poor, exposed cock was on the verge of intense ejaculation, but he had incredible control of his body and wasn't going to cum until he was inside you.

You whimpered as you felt his restless tongue inside you as he removed his fingers from you, his nose bumping against your pussy as he tasted your perfect entrance, staining his chin and mouth, being strong evidence of how good he was making you feel.

After sizzling whimpers and your pussy being treated so specially, you were about to cum and Minho sensed it, so he replaced his tongue once more with his fingers, pulling away from you to see your beautiful flustered face about to climax.

You saw him, his lips and chin glossy from you, Minho was slightly flushed, his ears were bright red, he looked so tender and dominant at the same time, penetrating your insides with his fingers.

“C’mon, sweetie, cum, I know you’re about to do it.”

You were no longer thinking clearly, the tension of your orgasm was so strong that you frowned uncomprehendingly, your vision blurred slightly, his touches felt for a few seconds a couple of times better than before and in a moderate whimper, you let yourself collapse in an intense orgasm, shuddering and battling with the irregularity of your breathing.

You dropped your body onto the bed, tired as you relaxed your legs as you felt the absence of his digits in you. You were tired, satisfied.

Minho stood with a smile, wiping his residue of you from his mouth and pulled his body closer to you. You were recovering a little, your orgasm had been so intense that you didn’t react to seeing him this close.

“Open your mouth” he ordered.

You looked into his eyes and noticed his fingers heading for your mouth, you took them, sucking on them, tasting his skin and your own orgasm coated on them.

Minho kept watching you with a half smile, so proud to have you like this. He slipped his fingers out of your mouth, brought his face close to yours and played with your lips, running his thumb wildly across them. You were again aroused by the heavy breaths of the two of you and his incredibly dominant look over your body.

Minho pulled away, he was so hot that he stripped off his black shirt quickly, revealing his muscular body. You bit your lip, seeing his body and his thick swollen cock.

You magically regained your strength again and sat up, so fascinated and attracted by his big dick, your eyes sparkled as your brain only worked to think that you had to touch him.

Minho saw your intentions and didn’t stop you, he let you do it, you looked tender with your eyes slightly widened in admiration as you moved towards his cock. You stroked his abds and moved your hand down to his recently shaved and stubbly pubic area that detonated in visible veins his erect member. You looked so fascinated, as if it was all an attraction you could touch.

Your pussy throbbed, still wet in your recent orgasm as you felt his cock between your hands, it was big and thick, so visibly pretty that you were dazzled. Minho moaned, his cock was so sensitive, leaking precum, he had small, slight sensations of an orgasm but had not fully ejaculated his load, his balls ached and his body was tense, that was why he was going to fuck you all at once but he let himself be carried away by your gentle caresses.

You slid your hand down his length, staring into his eyes, Minho was doing everything to look hard and hold his position, but he was dying to whimper and fall to your touches. And, when he saw you were about to bring your mouth close, he stopped you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to do it, but that he was eager to unload every drop into you one by one.

“Enough. Turn around and let me see your ass.”

You looked at him confused, which he intimidatingly raised his eyebrows waiting for you to react quickly.

You got into that position, squealing with excitement knowing that he was going to fuck you, still in the midst of the thrill, you wondered to yourself if you should ask him to use a condom, you didn’t want to end up making a big mistake. Bigger than fucking a married man.

Minho pulled your body with ease, making you stand up from the bed and letting your legs bump on the edge of it.

Minho took his cock, also debating whether to reach for a condom or fuck you with his raw cock, arousing him to immense levels at the thought of filling your entire pussy with every drop of his cum. He bit his lip, teasing your entrance with his bare glans, fantasizing about the idea of making you his, his heart was racing, he was about to do it, fuck you unprotected to feel your insides at first contact. You wiggled your ass while you arched your back ready to be fuck, needy and softly moaning until Minho spanked you hard twice unexpectedly, making you groan in surprise and excitement.

“Fuck” he sighed, “Why don’t you say anything, huh? You’re so fucking needy begging for my cock, you want me to fuck you like this without protection, don’t you?”

Minho spoke, in a thick voice that made your core rumble. The idea of his cock twitching inside you unprotected suddenly felt so good, you turned to see him, letting lust win again for both of you.

“Yes, please, Mr. Lee, fuck me.”

The thought filled his body and cock again, rubbing his cock against your folds to lubricate him and then gently thrusting his unprotected glans into you.

“Say it again” he ordered, the vein in his neck showing.

“Fuck me, please.”

His tip felt so good but you were desperate for his full length filling you up. Minho smiled at your needy expression. You raised your ass higher, the thought of the risk quickened his heart more, Minho was fucking fertile, his wife got pregnant as she ground his cock and cum in her folds and after she took the pill. And he could swear you were too, so young, panting for sex, so naive without measuring the consequences, Minho was blinded by pleasure and temptation that licking his lips he thought amused that he was going to get you pregnant so you would stop behaving like a little whore with any man asking for unprotected sex. He was going to teach you a lesson and at the same time he was going to fuck you like they had never fucked you before, all those immature guys who presumed to fuck you. He was going to make you remember and never forget.

Minho slid all the way in, stretching out your entrance until you felt his balls brush against your body and his tip touch the deepest part of you, caressing your cervix. You whimpered in pain and pleasure, it hurt like the first time. He grunted in pleasure, you were squeezing him so well, making him think for a second if you were a virgin or it was just his swollen, pumping cock that had to hold out so hard.

One of Minho’s hands went to your waist squeezing you tightly the other one grabbed your hips to finally push your body. At first he pushed your body, to peruse your wet open hole giving room for his cock and how his raw cock slid smoothly into you, the skin of his veiny cock coated in your glistening liquid, sliding in and out of your pussy, Minho was going to make sure he left every drop of his cum in you to teach you a fucking lesson, to let everyone know you were his, to make you remember the day when you were so well fucked and accepted his exposed cock in you without thinking.

Minho smiled broadly, starting to ram you deep, moving your body with each intense, rough thrust, making you whimper, you were still adjusting to his size but for now your body was starting to ache, combining with pleasure.

He gasped, your walls were so tight squeezing him so torturously that he could cum weakly in moments.

“What a pretty and tight pussy you have, kitten, it feels so fucking good.”

Minho kept pounding your pussy hard, weakening your body, feeling his large size protrude into your lower abdomen; he noticed how you were slightly desperate not knowing where to put your hands, so he quickly acted and grabbed your forearms with force exalting the veins of his strong hands, leaving you helpless at his disposal, with his cock filling every inch of you, and even more, your poor entrance and interior was starting to be attacked by Minho’s cock as he accelerated his rhythm, moving his hips on you so satisfyingly until reaching your G-spot, finally you managed to combine the pain with your pleasure filling you completely, you couldn’t stop whimpering, each intense impact of his pelvis against your body clouded your sight more and more.

Minho was panting and overbearing to have you at his disposal, listening to you whimpering, his ego went to his head, he knew he was good at sex and fucked hard and he did it so rough that it left you shaking and sore.

Minho kept up his intense pace, thrusting hard into you until you could hear your skins collapsing and your soaking wet pussy sliding on his cock, you were both mesmerized, Minho could count your encounter as one of his best sexual experiences, the inside of your pussy squishing on his cock was an heavenly sensation. Minho hummed in pleasure, finding your submissive position so arousing; you were in a slightly uncomfortable position as he was holding you by your arms so tightly, but the sensation of being slightly motionless made you experience sex like you never had before, Minho was making you explore so many new sensations that you whimpered in pleasure with soft tears forming in your glistening eyes.

“Mmm, you’re taking so well my cook, kitten, look at you like a fucking good slut. You like being fuck hard, don’t you?”

Your whole body got hot listening to him talk dirty, you could listen to him for hours while his cock is shoved in your pussy.

“Y-yes, Min-” he pounded you harder, “Mr. Lee!”

You babbled in a squeak oh my god, enjoying being fucked hard like you had never experienced before.

It was feeling so good but at the same time it was like you were being split in two, your face was flushed red as you were so close to your orgasm. You didn’t know how he was doing it but it didn’t feel like a fuck where he was mindlessly penetrating you, his movements were frantic but the intensity of the perfect control of his hips blurred your vision and took you to the edge.

You felt his cock throbbing in your core as your near orgasm squeezed it slightly tighter, almost milking him dry, however, Minho in one swift movement grabbed both your arms with one hand while with the other went in search of your hair, to pull it back and whisper to you in a husky voice, “Come here.”

You did your best to lift your sore body, with a little of his help, and press your naked back against his bare chest.

“Cum, little slut,” he growled in your ear, grabbing your neck with one of his hands while the other held your quivering body in your mons venus, his nimble fingers stimulating your sensitive clit, “Cum all over my fucking cock and I’m gonna cum all inside you to make you mine. I bet no little brat has ever fucked you the way I do” his lips were glued to your ear, you heard every gasping breath and felt the vibration of his voice on your back as you were pinned to his chest, you shook in response, causing him to let out a smug chuckle in your ear, with the ache in your abdomen from his cock and from your second intense orgasm, “You just love when I make you cum, don’t you?”

“Y-yees” you replied raggedly through the constant battle with your breathing and racing heart, the edge of your orgasm, and his intense thrusts into your pussy that made your body move, blurrily seeing the arm veins that wrapped around your neck.

Suddenly Minho whimpered in your ear, tightening his previous soft grip on your neck.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum too. I’m gonna fill your pussy with my cum you dirty slut.”

His ramming continued and he began to lightly choke you, more tears graced your face, the pain and pleasure was getting so intense that you collapsed again more fiercely and broke free from the growing knot in your stomach, falling into a rumbling orgasm leaving you shuddering and lifeless.

Minho also cum at the sensation of your orgasm collapsing on him, satisfying you audibly as you heard his loud moan and filling the inside of your vagina with every drop of his loaded cock just as he had promised himself. You felt his warm shot into you still with his cock inside and a tired Minho rested his chin on your shoulder as he slowly released his grip on your neck.

He pulled out of you leaving your dripping entrance.

“Let me see your pussy full of my cum, kitten” Minho ordered breathlessly.

Tired, you sat on the bed and spread your legs, you moaned at the tingle of the fluids slipping into you and Minho smiled, to pull you close and give you a short but tender and passionate kiss on your lips. Your first kiss, after the dirty act.

“Aw, you look so tired, you’ve never been fucked this hard before, my babygirl?” he spoke almost mockingly.

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You couldn't stop for a while, you lived a double life entangled in the guilt and strong arms of two men. They were both sex gods so ready to please you, they knew what they were doing and it drove you crazy.

There were many differences between the two, but you loved fucking them and having fun with both equally, with the same intensity. Neither of them knew that you were fucking them at the same time, honestly you were there for a good time, not to promise them that you would always belong to them, when they already belonged to someone else in the first place.

With Hyunjin, your encounters became serious when he returned to the topic of not making you cum and promised to do so, renting a penthouse exclusively for the two of you where you could both sin without a problem. That place became a witness to your dirty and fateful encounters.

Hyunjin was softer and more tender with you, he loved foreplay and you deciding what to do, what to touch, he put your needs before his, anyway he knew you were going to please him and that was enough for his miserable and needy slightly mature body.

You loved the contrast of the two of them, some days you would see Hyunjin and others Minho, you'd text for hours, have fun sending each other risqué messages and then take out every sorrow and frustration on you and your young, docile, libido filled body. You loved that with Hyunjin you were soft, he gave you the sweetest kisses and you could be in control… but with Minho everything was very different, he gave you orders for everything and left your body sore.

Hyunjin liked you, because he could fill himself with as much sexual pleasure as he wanted, just like Minho, you seemed to have no limits.

That night you felt guilty when he informed you that he had rented the place just for the two of you, but you decided to accept it cynically. He showered you with expensive gifts and filled your bank account with money, all while giving you some of the best sex. You didn't know where to put the gifts or hide them, so he gave you the keys to the penthouse so you could leave all his gifts and use them once you were alone, without your sister asking where you got a Cartier bracelet or new handbags from the latest Versace collection. You noticed that with his gifts, Hyunjin was looking for something more lasting which alerted you a lot, but then you forgot about it when you arrived at the place with absolutely nothing to worry about, you both had developed the ability to be soulless and cynical monsters, guiltless enough to enjoy sexual pleasures with the city light outside the big windows as your witnesses.

Hyunjin always made sure to kiss you before initiating any sexual act, his soft lips always lived close to your face and body in every moment you shared alone. He loved to touch you and slide his hand under your dress to caress and take care of your pussy. His deft fingers would easily slide into your already lubricated area and he would gently thrust into you. You both undressed and he continued to caress your sensitive pussy until he guided you to the bed still kissing you. You enjoyed his kisses so much that you both dropped on the mattress and masturbated his cock, you adored the feel of his quivering dick, Hyunjin drove you wild that you couldn't say no to his adorable face begging for sex.

Your encounters were like this, on lonely nights when you got overly turned on and asked him to lie down on the bed, Hyunjin with an adorable and wide smile would obey, in contrast to his colossal cock intimidatingly wagging at you as it was exposed. He was also pleasurably hurting your pussy every time you fucked. He was so handsome you could eat him out, you unloaded all that energy as you sat on his erect cock, grinding on it and sliding your wet folds into his stiffness, making him whimper.

“Mmm, fuck, it feels so good, baby, you love my cock, don't you, baby?” moaned Hyunjin taking hold of your breasts tightly and massaging them.

You nodded frantically in response, Hyunjin loved it when you had fun with his cock, putting it in your mouth, on your pussy, while riding him, masturbating him even with lazy footjob on his cock when watching a movie and the two of you are at the far ends of the couch spaced apart.

You continued, sliding up and down, rubbing all over your wet pussy making pressure on his cock and his exposed abdomen, panting, and seeing him so appetizing and handsome. You moved closer to him, as he had made you an addition to his lips and you kissed him, the sensation of his mouth working against yours made your pussy throb more and you remembered how good his lips felt on your pussy.

Pulling away from him, you looked at him with your huge bambi eyes that he adores and said:

“Can I sit on your face, Hyun?”

Hyunjin almost cum before your innocent gaze rubbing on his cock as you ask for fucking his face.

You knew Hyunjin wouldn't say no to you. And then he would cuddle you to keep chatting about his whole life, you liked him, you weren't going to deny it, he was handsome, interesting, kind… but he was married, you wanted to keep it to just sex without feelings, at least until your summer was over.

Minho, on the other hand, debated long and hard whether to continue seeing you and ended up giving in completely, offering the cabin he had a few hours outside the city as your main place of pleasure.

You didn't feel proud, you felt dirty and Minho always reminded you of that, he loved to talk dirty and sometimes referred to you with sweet names and sometimes blurted out in excitement somewhat derogatory names, both of which made you horny anyway.

Nights with Minho were darker, he didn't make sure to kiss you before doing any act, he loved to tease you and watch every reaction, whispering dirty and defiantly, “Wasn't this what you wanted?”

You loved to tease him and misbehave only to receive your painful punishment. It was as if you were balancing very well the sweet sex with Hyunjin, with the hard and painful one Minho was giving you.

He was so forward and a total pervert, at first he liked you to call him Mr. Lee, but as he became more confident he asked you to call him daddy. He liked to feel in control and the absolute authority of your body and pleasure.

Sometimes you would get very proud and try to play his same game, making comments that you knew made his blood boil and hurt his ego, throwing at him in a mocking tone, “And you? You're so needy too, daddy, look at you, your wife's pussy isn't enough so you come to taste mine.”

Minho paused, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, letting his heavy hand fall on your exposed and sensitive vagina, slapping it hard and making you cry out in pain. Minho hated talking about his wife when he was with you and hated it even more when you talked about her, unlike Hyunjin who used you as his therapist to tell every complaint he had.

Minho stood up, coming close to your face to slap it too. That night he was so furious, and not exactly because of you, but he was taking it out unfairly on you. He was fed up with his wife's glamorous life, her fame was starting to fall on his shoulders as it was starting to affect his children, which hurt him, they were the most precious thing to Minho.

He moved your body with ease, putting your body over his lap to begin spanking you.

But those were the unusual nights, what Minho liked about you was that you never seemed to get tired, your body never got full of him, apparently, you could take round after round until you ran him dry, he loved to call you derogatory names to remind you how unbelievably slutty you were behaving and in the end he didn't talk much like Hyunjin did, Minho showed his caring and affection by making you dinner and talking softly about him, though he was extremely reserved, though to you… something about Minho caught your attention so much, for days you wanted to deny it, but you liked him slightly more than Hyunjin.

But you lived trapped in the sexual fantasies of two men, you didn't really believe them capable of seeing you with fondness or affection. Two men, running away from home and families just so they could fill your pussy and fuck you releasing every sexual frustration on them. You were their little doll, their fucktoy.

But like everything, your little empire fell little by little once Minho was starting to suspect that you were also sleeping with another man, but he was manic, trying to figure out if that man could be Chan. Also Hyunjin's wife, Yeji began to suspect him, he was late, he didn't come to sleep, she went to designer stores and the workers kindly told her if she wanted another pair of the same garment, bag or shoes that her husband had already bought. But Hyunjin had a very huge problem, as he was slightly falling in love with you. He couldn't help it.

----------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk

2K notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

Note

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

1K notes · View notes

kitkat13001 · 2 months ago

Text

thinkin’ bout ₊˚⊹♡ husband!sanemi ♡₊˚⊹

♡ husband!sanemi who cried like a baby on your wedding day.

♡ husband!sanemi who holds your hand in the marketplace and lets you tug him along to go see whatever it is you want to see — a new rug, a vase, a little trinket you’ve got absolutely no space or use for.

♡ husband!sanemi who hogs the covers at night and cheekily insists you have to cuddle up close with him if you want to get underneath them to get warm.

♡ husband!sanemi who lets you sleep in on your day off, wakes up early to do laundry and make breakfast and kiss you on the forehead when you finally wake up towards noon.

♡ husband!sanemi who sits next to you in pillar meetings, your pinkies linked on the wooden floor as the master speaks.

♡ husband!sanemi who keeps watch while you rest on a mission, vigilant and alert. nothing’s going to hurt you, not on his watch—even if he has to stay up all night.

♡ husband!sanemi who just grits his teeth and takes it while you beat his ass for being mean to genya, dragging him away by the ear as you berate him loud enough for the entire house to hear.

♡ husband!sanemi who doesn’t hold back on you in pillar training, knowing you can take it. he just wants to make sure you’re at your best. he can’t have you slacking off in the field, y’know?

♡ husband!sanemi who patches you up quietly by the fire at night after he’s beat your ass in training all day. his touch is gentle now, fingers ghosting over your bruises and wrapping bandages around your cuts. if it’s really bad, he’ll kiss you better.

♡ husband!sanemi who fights to get you on missions together so he can look out for you, but if he can’t, will kiss you good luck and tell you he loves you before you leave.

♡ husband!sanemi who waits at the door for you to come back, keeping dinner warm on the stove, and sprints across the lawn when he sees the outline of your form coming up the hill to the wind estate.

♡ husband!sanemi who keeps the letters you write him while you’re away in a box in the closet, and reads them when he misses you (he’ll die before admitting this much).

♡ husband!sanemi who, with your help, finally manages to begin mending his relationship with his younger brother. who stops, arms full of food, in the doorway when he sees you and genya sitting at the table together during dinner, laughing and eating. who is overwhelmed by the love he has for his little family, and who would fight with everything he has to protect it.

divider by @/saradika-graphics — sacchan….my sacchan….please. i am so very soft for him. anyways, i’ve been sitting on these for a while and decided to lock in and finish it. hope you like! love, - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢

#your honor i love him #sanemi x reader #shinaguzawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi fluff #sanemi x reader fluff #kny x reader #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer x reader #kny #sanemi shinaguzawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa fluff #kitty.writes!

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greg-montgomery · 9 months ago

Note

the latest hotch x sunshine reader fic?

u think u ate with that?

no.

U DEVOUREDDDDDD. GRRRRRRRRRRR

part 2 now mama i love u so much

bestieee thank you omg!!!! <3 i hope you like part 2!!

part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Spencer took a deep breath staring at his desk. On any other day it would be due to the amount of paperwork waiting for him, but this time it was a cup of his favorite coffee order, a muffin, and a chocolate croissant, all sitting right on top of the report he was working on.

He wasn’t ungrateful for the treats, but he would rather enjoy them if they weren’t accompanied by three pairs of wide eyes looking at him, while searching for answers in return.

Emily threw her head back dramatically. “Come on, give us something.”

“They’re on a date right now, aren’t they? That’s why he left early. I know you know,” Penelope said. “I know you do. Rossi knows too, but he won’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “Every time we ask he says nothing and just…smirks at us.”

“Please, you’re our last hope.”

Spencer took a bite of his muffin and smirked.

“You’re even worse than him,” Emily said and pointed at him.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go hack Hotch’s phone.”

“No, wait!”

Was it silly to start planning your wedding on a first date?

Maybe it was; you didn’t care. Because there was no way Aaron was not your future husband.

He did everything perfectly: he picked you up from your house, got you flowers, did not let you touch a door handle, paid for your dinner date, and let you play your music during the car ride.

Aaron also smiled a lot and the sight of it made you melt into your seat. It wasn’t often that a man gave you butterflies by just one look or with the sound of his laughter.

“What are you in the mood for now?”

The last thing you wanted was for the date to end, so instead of suggesting you walk back to his car you made a different offer.

“Let’s get ice cream!”

He chuckled, but you could already tell he would not say no to you. “Okay.”

You were walking side by side and even though you were already falling in love with his warm voice it was hard to pay attention to his words. Your mind was too occupied thinking about his arm swinging next to yours and how bad you wanted to hold hands with him.

Did he want it too? Would he think it’s childish to hold hands?

What if you just…did it?

Life’s too short, you thought and grabbed his hand.

Yes, you had not been paying attention to what he'd been saying but you did notice how he stopped mid-sentence when your hands touched. Was he mad?

Your heart was jumping against your chest, afraid you did something stupid. Aaron was quick to ease your anxiety, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently your hand.

He wanted this too.

He cleared his throat. “So it’s um…a good chance to…”

With the side of your eye, you caught him turning his head to stare at you. You hadn’t wiped the grin off your face from the sudden hand holding yet, and he saw it.

His dimples made an appearance, and as your grin got bigger you noticed he blushed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you giggled.

The sound of Aaron’s phone ringing interrupted your moment.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” he said.

You, of course, didn’t mind. Even though he hadn’t said so himself, you knew he had left right on time – early in Hotch’s terms - from work just for your date. Perks of being best friends with your date’s subordinate was getting to have this kind of inside information.

“Hotchner,” he said sternly.

You stayed quiet.

“What? I didn’t authorize this.”

Oh.

“No. And I trust this won’t happen again.”

Oh…Maybe you liked this side of him a little bit more than you should.

“Thanks,” he said, and hung up. “I’m sorry about that.”

I’m not.

“No, it’s okay! It’s fascinating observing you being a boss.”

“You like observing people?”

“Why, are you interested in hiring me?” you teased.

“Oh, I would never.”

“Why not?” you asked, acting offended.

“I would not be able to focus on a case with you around.”

You took advantage of the fact you were on a sidewalk and stopped walking, turning your body to face him. “And why is that?”

Aaron moved closer and dropped your hand only to cup the side of your head. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek and his eyes on yours made you feel dizzy.

“Because you take my breath away.”

And with his next move he took yours. Maybe you’d actually faint if he didn’t pull you in and place his lips on yours.

Your hands moved to his tie with the intention of pulling him even closer to your body. His kiss was heavenly and you really wouldn’t mind if you were to stay like that forever.

Yeah…there was no way Aaron Hotchner was not your future husband.

#writing hotch fluff to deal with life!!#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #ask #hotch 🪐

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mattybsgroupie · 1 month ago

Text

— milf ★ chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); p in v; mommy kink; corruption kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: i was so, so excited for this one. and i'm so happy for all the support on my silly ideas. this is the whole story of this blurb but it's just a taste, because i want to do a series about them. i wanna write about the first time they ever saw each other, how did chris confess to her, the time she came back to her husband, everything. there's so much to explore about these two and i hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i did. i love yall so much ♡ btw this is so long and not proofread please don’t hate me

it was a silent, cold afternoon at home. your daughter was away, traveling with her father — your ex-husband — and you were enjoying some much needed alone time. the sun was setting and the wind blew through the windows as you adjusted yourself on the couch and took a sip of the coffee you were holding in your left hand.

you heard three knocks from the back door, letting out a deep sigh from the back of your throat. you got up to stretch your tired bones and walked in slow steps towards the kitchen, opening the door. it was chris.

christopher sturniolo, one of your daughter’s best friends. he was energetic, funny, educated and extremely attractive for his age. the type of guy you’d want for your daughter — the gentle, sweet kid, who was surprisingly smart and was definitely going to be a great husband.

however at this moment, chris looked tired. his eyebags were darker and his usual easy smile wasn’t here. he seemed… exhausted.

“hi, dear” you said in your gentle, yet sensual tone, which always caught chris off guard. there was something about your voice that soothe him at the same time it got him worked up, the conflicting feelings taking over his chest.

“uhm, hey” chris said, scratching the back of his head. you noticed how his fingers tangled on his own hair — chris was tense. the other hand was hidden inside his pocket, his bruised lips looking even prettier under the sunset.

you smiled gently, thinking your daughter could’ve forgotten to tell him she’d be absent “she’s not here today, honey”.

“i know” chris answered abruptly, his gaze floating from your chest to his own shoes. “c-can i come in?”. with a simple nod, you entered the house, waiting for chris to join. he closed the back door and made his way to the kitchen, quietly following you around.

“i haven’t cooked since it’s just me” you said, noticing how his blue eyes scanned the empty table.

“oh” chris hadn’t realized you paid just as much attention to him as he did to you. “y-you don’t have to” he said. you raised an eyebrow and placed both of your hands on your hips, a classic mom pose. “i just like your food, that’s all” he looked away as you chuckled.

“aw, baby!” you cooed, genuinely happy with his confession as you opened your arms, offering him a warm, tender hug. “fuck, don’t call me that” chris mumbled under his breath as you approached him. you clicked your tongue in disapproval, silently calling him out. you were the older one and he needed to show some respect.

that’s when you noticed it. chris had failed to cover his pathetic boner, standing there, hard, in front of you.

you dragged your feet towards chris in slow, rhythmic steps, the sound of your heels clacking against the floor taking over the empty house. with a grin, you placed your hand on his tummy, chuckling at the contrast of your red nails and his baby blue hoodie.

“chris, what’s this?” you say as if you’re surprised, gradually lowering your hand to his pants, gently palming his hardened cock. “you’re a naughty, naught boy” chris whined, throwing his head back as he finally felt your hand around him.

this had happened a few times — a couple more than it should. chris was just so, so needy. your maternal instinct could always tell when he needed a hug or some encouragement, and you always gave it to him. until the hugs got tighter and the words turned to whispers, the handshakes turned to interlocking fingers and the quick gazes became lingering stares. one day, you don’t exactly recall how, chris ended up sitting on your lap, which led to your first kiss and chris inevitably cumming untouched inside his jeans.

“i just— ‘m s-sorry” he gasped when you finally got a proper grip of his cock, stroking him over his sweaters.

“i don’t think you are” you teased, pulling his waistband and wrapping your knuckles around chris’s dick, which was covered in pre-cum. his cock twitched inside your fist when you placed a kiss on his neck, as if it was the first time he had ever been touched. “hm? what is it baby?”

“mommy” he breathed out without even thinking. his eyes were closed and his forehead was glued to your shoulder, his pathetic moans filling slipping from his bruised lips. “‘m gonna cum!”

“is that why you came here, chris? you wanted mommy to take care of you?” you cooed, biting his bare skin. with one last stroke and a shaky breath, chris came all over your fingers. the thick, sticky liquid covered your hand and dripped down his legs, staining his grey sweatpants. you brought your hand to your lips, licking all of his release.

you chuckled at him and chris quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to get closer to you. chris hid his face on the crook of your neck, sniffing your scent. “i missed you” he mumbled. “missed you s’much”

your hands went to the back of chris’s head, gently caressing his brown locks. “did you, sweetheart?” you cooed, squeezing his shoulder, silently asking for him to look at you. you touched his chin and chris tilted his head, closing his eyes for the kiss he so long waited for. you pressed your lips together in a tender seal, smiling into the kiss.

“let’s get you clean up, shall we?” you said, noticing the cum stain on his pants. “i’ll wash this one for you”

you said and he agreed, undressing right away. you smiled at his politeness and couldn't help but glance at him as he removed his sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen — chris noticed you staring at him and attempted to tease you “like what you see, mama?”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for his clothes. his half-pumped cock remained coated in cum leaking down his thigh, ending just before his knee. “go take a shower” you suggested — demanded, actually — tossing everything he had on into the washing machine “are you gonna sleep here, sweetheart?”

“i-i… can i?” chris hesitantly asked. “well, there's no one else around” you checked the living room, reassuring chris that neither your daughter nor your ex-husband would be back any time soon.

chris rushed upstairs and took a shower as you finished his laundry. you took that chance to take off your soaked panties, making yourself bare beneath your nightgown before heading to your bedroom.

stepping out of the shower, chris wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fogged-up mirror with his palm. his reflection stared back at himself, blue orbs with a mix of excitement and apprehension for sleeping with you for the first time. chris knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. you were just perfect. too perfect.

he opened the door and slowly dragged his feet across the hallway, the soft sound of your movements in the bedroom guiding his steps. through the door gap, chris caught a glimpse of you seated at the edge of the bed, your fingers tracing patterns on the mattress.

“done already?” you asked, voice low and tender. chris nodded as he sat by your side and leaned his back down the bed, holding his weight with both elbows.

for a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your emotions hanging in the air. in a sudden rush of courage, you got closer to him, brushing your lips against his, taking it nice and slow.

chris immediately melted under your touch. his large hand went to the back of your head, softly pulling your hair as you moved to his lap, your curvy thighs practically hugging him.

he gasped with the sudden move, even though he had touched you and you had touched him — you never went all the way. chris was a virgin after all, and you had lost your innocence decades ago. you chuckled at him “it's okay, prince” you whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek. “we don't have to do anything you don't want to”

and that's why he loved you. you were so understanding, so compreensive and gave him the reassurance he needed “no! i w-want it!” chris said, a bit of desperation on his tone, the fear of losing you somehow taking over his already fuzzy mind.

“‘m jus scared i'm not... not gonna be good” he admitted, gaze flickering between your chest — right in front of him — and the ceiling. “g-gonna mess up” he mumbled, nuzzling his face against your breasts.

“that's totally okay” you smiled gently, ruffling his hair before playfully biting his neck, pulling his skin with ur teeth. “and besides, you already know how to make me feel good” you purred like a kitten on his ear, your long, red nails scratching a line down his torso.

“you're such a tease, mama” chris whispered back, placing his palms on your ass, pulling the silk nightgown upwards and revealing your bare flesh, making you moan as he groped your lower body.

with a light push, chris had fallen against the mattress. you crawled back to your previous spot, resting your back against the countless pillows that adorned the bed. chris quickly made his way to you — he was used to sitting on your lap — but you were smarter and, obviously, more experienced.

you stopped him by placing both palms against his chest. receiving a pout in response, your skilled fingers moved to the towel loosely wrapped around his hips, finally pulling the cloth and revealing his hardened cock.

you took a moment to admire the scene in front of you: chris, freshly showered, his hair dripping small droplets of water down his shoulders, his lips slightly parted, a string of saliva connecting both parts, his chest quickly rising and falling and his dick unashamedly leaking.

you had been wet from the moment he showed at your door. by now, your pussy was pratically begging for chris. you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and sealing your lips on a desperate kiss. chris audibly gasped when he pressed his cock onto your pussy, the new feeling taking over him. he started to drag his swollen lenght against your open cunt, not really sure of what he was doing, but it felt so good.

“whenever you're ready, prince” you breathed out as you enjoyed the feeling of having your folds explored after so long. chris savored that for a bit longer before positioning himself and moving his hips forward.

nothing.

he tried again. it was his first time and it was okay to make mistakes — that's what you told him. chris snorted, a frustrated sigh coming from him. one last try.

nothing, again.

you tried so hard to keep your composure. poor little thing, chris had no idea of what was going on. “w-why is it so hard?” he complained, more to himself than to you. his failed attempts were making him restless and sweaty, “mama” chris called, displaying puppy eyes and the biggest pout. “i c-can't get in...”

he was gonna cry. he was so vulnerable and upset at the same time. you ran your fingers through his hair “hey, hey, look at me” you shushed him, cupping his cheeks. “didn't i tell this could happen, baby? there's no reason to embarassed”

“c'mere” you called, patting the spot next to you on the mattress. “what if mama goes on top, huh? wanna try it that way?” you asked chris with your usual gentle, warm tone. he nodded eagerly, tears beggining to form in the corners of his eyes.

you changed positions, chris had his back resting against the headboard as you sat on his lap. “can you be a big boy and do a big favor for mommy?” he nodded once again, gripping at your hips with both hands. “stay still, alright baby? gonna sit down on you” you warned as you placed your folds against his flushed tip, gradually lowering yourself on his shaft.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” chris cried at the overwhelming sensation. “mama! s-shit!”

a soft sigh escaped your lips as you surrendered to the moment, relaxing with chris underneath you. “nhng, so big” you whined, adjusting yourself on his cock. you were used to that feeling, being filled up by a huge cock and having men at your feet. but this time was different. it felt so raw, so genuine, so real with chris.

chris threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. his moans got louder as you fastened your pace, soon bouncing on his dick. he was making no effort at all, being a pillow prince and simply letting you do whatever you wanted.

more than having his veins pumping inside you, the thought of being his first woman, of taking away his last bit of innocence, of completely corrupting him helped you get closer to the edge.

“mommy, i can't hold it! 'm gonna cum!” chris whined, panting heavily. “cum with me, my good boy” you gave him permission, but the praise was all he needed. chris trembled and jerked his body forward, the instensity of his orgasm being almost too much for him to handle.

his whimpers and uncoordinated movements ts along with the spurts of warm cum filling your insides made you reach your own climax, your juices mixed with chris's release oozing from your pussy and coating his cock.

“gonna pull out, okay?” you told him, preparing to remove yourself from his dick. “no!” chris prosteted. you furrowed your eyebrows, more curious than mad. “c-can i... can i stay inside? please? it took me so long to get in”, he confessed and you couldn't hold back anymore, a giggle escaping from your lips.

you might have taken his virginity, but deep down, chris would always be your little boy.

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melanated-writersblock · 3 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Lunch Rush.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

[CEO!Husband!Yunho x BlackFem!Exec!Reader]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Where you and Yunho wanted to start trying for a baby, and with a long lunch break in your schedules, you decide to pay him a visit to try your hand at conception.

content: car sex, semi-public sex, thigh riding, cloth-ripping, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl pls), just a dollop of spit, cowgirl, doggy, full fledged backshots, like 2 creampies?

word count: 3.4k

a/n: This fic cost me 5 FUCKING DOLLARS TO MAKE?!?!?! I had to pay to use a fake text generator, so if any of you have a site or app that I can make fake text messages FOR FREE then PLEASE let me know😭. This was self indulgent but I wanna dedicate this fic to all my fellow Hotteoks🫶🏾 And the bitches that fantasize about getting nutted in and getting it poppin’ in the back of the parking lot (in theory of course)! WwaBRiM (if you can’t tell from the fact the reader is rocking soft locs😛)

‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎

To this day…you and Yunho’s BIGGEST regret in your relationship…is and ALWAYS WILL BE….agreeing to go to the christening of your friends’ 6-month old baby boy.

Everything was beautiful. The ceremony, the cathedral, the way the baby nestled into Yunho’s arms so naturally, and reached out to play with your bangles with such curiosity and wonder. It altered both of your brain chemistries, and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Your friends didn’t help either, saying things like “Parenthood would look so good on you two!” and “I can’t wait for your baby shower invitations.”.

How could they…….

After you pushed your meetings back to later in the week. After Yunho gave his team a free day when they could’ve been in the office perfecting the play-through on his new game before its release. Two very busy people with very busy work schedules, and you carved out time to come support your friends and their son, and they pay you back with…….

BABY FEVER?!?!

You and Yunho planned your futures out to a T. Go to university, get your respective degrees, join a company that you interned with, work your way up, become the boss, get married, honeymoon in The Maldives and spend your paid vacation days in The Swiss Alps.

Starting a family was definitely in there somewhere, but everything fell in line so well that it got lost. You’re at the top of your games…Yunho, figuratively and literally, with his gaming company being the best in the country and all…and you became the creative director for a top cosmetic brand. It really was all good. But it was lacking. And you both felt it. Ever since that christening.

You felt it every time one of your work partners went on maternity and paternity leave. Every time there were children in the offices on ‘Bring Your Kids to Work Day’. Every time Yunho saw posts or videos of kids around the world dressing up as characters he helped create. Every time your homegirls would send you milestones of their babies taking their first walk, or biting into a lemon for the first time. You two worked hard and accomplished everything you wanted to, everything except starting a family. It resonated for days after that christening.

For Weeks.

Months, even.

The energy around the house shifted. Yunho would steal glances at you as you did the simplest of routines, imagining your belly being round as you sip your favorite tea in the kitchen, waddling from room to room barefoot and pregnant. And you’d watch attentively as he’d play his video games, envisioning a child full of joy as he teaches them how to defeat their first villain. After a while it got to a point where neither of you would hide it. It became all too real, too wanted. And why not? What was stopping you two?

Everything was green lit once you and Yunho put it into the atmosphere and finally discussed it. You both were just about ready to start baby proofing the house and nothing even happened yet, becoming more proactive than you already were. Tracking apps were monitored, routines were tweaked, and everything seemed to be doable…but your work schedules…your jobs were the biggest obstacle. Just when could you slip away for a bit to see each other? When would be the right time to make a ba-

“Hey, I’m picking up my kid so we can go to lunch. I’ll be back in 2 hours!”

Your Editor in Chief pops their head in your office briefly before heading down the hall to the elevator, snapping you out of your rambling thoughts.

…………..Lunch Break.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You reverse your sedan into the space next to him before hoping out and swishing towards the driver’s door, knocking softy. Your ears perk up at the sound of r&b playing and a silent laugh escapes you. The dark windows of the door lower, revealing Yunho in the driver’s seat, fully reclined with the top buttons of his shirt undone and the silver crucifix you adorned him with for your anniversary gleaming.

“For a second I thought you were backing out on me.” He smiles at you, his voice deeper than usual, evidence of a brief stolen nap. “Traffic was hell, I would’ve been here in half the time otherwise.” The door unlocks and you climb in, grazing over Yunho’s body as he adjusts the driver’s seat sitting up slightly, he grabs ahold of you to help you straddle him and closes the door back behind you. And like clockwork, you lean in, beginning your onslaught of abuse on his lips.

Snaking your hands into Yunho’s hair, he moans, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing ever so eloquently with yours. “I missed you.” He says breathlessly between kisses, “You saw me this morning before I left boo!” You tease him, fixing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose that slid down in the midst of your passion, “That’s too long.” He pokes his lips out, and you console him with light pecks to ease his playful angst. “You’re so needy, you know that right?” “And you love me for it.”

Yunho starts to undo his shirt more, a sinister smile on the corner of his lips as he looks you over. “Come here,” You lean into him, your hand placed against his bare chest, the rock on your wedding band a flashy contrast to his skin. “Lift up for me baby.” You lift off of Yunho for a second as he helps you readjust yourself, now straddling one of his thighs. The pinstriped black skirt you wore for work today riding up your thighs. You let out a huff, immediately feeling the pressure of Yunho’s toned thigh on your bundle of nerves. Your black tights and panties not serving as any sort of buffer to the sensations. Your pussy lips spread apart feeling the course texture of his slacks. You let out a staggering sigh, reality finally setting in what you were about to do. “That’s right, you’re gonna ride me and come all over my thigh, and thennn~” Yunho begins to rock your hips back and forth on his thigh. You lurch forward, your right hand immediately planting on the interior wall of the Rover, “Damn, feels good right?” “Yeah, yes it does. Fuck.”

You place your other hand on his shoulder, stealing support as you rock onto him quicker, a few front strands of your freshly done soft locs coming undone from the high pony you put them in this morning, to his delight. Yunho enjoyed the sight of you working yourself on him, he loved how neat you looked before you climbed in the suv with him, and is obsessed with the thought of how disheveled and fucked out you’re gonna look when he’s done and you climb back out. Fuck, it’s all he’s thought about since you mentioned it in the texts. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to touch you, to feel you, to fuck you, to ruin you, to caress you, to make love to you, to put a baby in you……finally.

You watch Yunho as he closes his eyes, deep in thought, mindlessly guiding your hips against him, as if he’s immediately feeling all of the pleasure that you are in that moment. You begin to rock against him quicker, an impending climax moments away. Yunho opens his eyes, watching you as your moans get louder, less polite, more shameless. You lean your head forward trying to compose yourself as much as you possibly can in this situation, and he smiles at the sight. “I’m close………..fuck, I’m close.” Your hand now caresses his face as you lean your head on his shoulder, hunching him like a bitch in heat. “You’re close?” “Yeahhhh~” “Fuck, you’re gonna cum all over my thigh like that?” “Yeah!” “Yeahhh, just like that?” “Yes! Yes! Just like that!” Yunho bounces his leg softly as you continue to rake against it, riding out your high as a warm dampness spreads on his designer slacks. He moans at the feeling, damn near coming untouched just from witnessing your pleaser unfold before him.

You steady your panting for air. Embarrassed, you pat at the wet spot you left on your husband, “I did not expect that I-“ “I did, you’re ovulating.” Yunho caresses your cheeks fully heated with shame, and kisses you, laughing into the kiss. “I don’t think you understand how hot that was, don’t apologize my love.” He gestures to the passenger seat, helping you off of him and guiding you there to sit tight and catch yourself for a second. He then leans the drivers seat back fully again, stepping over it to sit in the spacious middle seat. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way before removing his glasses, tossing them somewhere far in the back seats. He holds one of his hands out to you, patting his thigh sharply with his other, ordering your immediate presence.

You crawl over the front armrest and take Yunho’s hand as he helps you towards him. You start to kneel down in front of him and he stops you, “Nooo no, no, none of that today.” “But I really want to.” “I knowww, and you do it so well, but we’re kind of on a fixed schedule.” Yunho gestures behind you to the time on the soft glowing screen on the dashboard. You sigh in agreement, “I wanted to get you ready too.” “Oh babe,” He begins to undue his belt buckle and pants, his fully hard cock slapping against his lower abdomen as he slides his pants down lower freeing him. “Does it look like I need to get ready?” Your mouth waters, his cock glistening as precum trails down the tip, and you moan at the sight. “Oh my God.” He laughs at your eager demeanor, “Come here baby,” he pats his thighs again signaling you to straddle him once more, your legs on either side of him cushioned by the materials used to adorn the luxury car seats.

Yunho hikes your skirt up higher, sliding his hands underneath to trail down your sheer-tights-clad inner thighs and up to your panties. Your breaths were short, shallow, hesitant. You closed your eyes as Yunho felt you up, getting you worked up again in the process, unbeknownst to himself, or was this all part of his plan? “These weren’t too pricey, right?” He pinches at your tights, “No they weren’t, why?”

****rrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrrrriiiiippp!****

You gasp as you feel the force from Yunho ripping your tights right down the middle, smacking his shoulder. “They weren’t pricey but they were my favorite!” “Shhh, I’ll buy you 10 more.” You lean your head on his shoulder, pouting…until you feel his slender hands move your panties to the side. Your breath begins to get shallow again, feeling his warm tip slide up and down your wet folds. You moan involuntarily, “Awww, come on baby I haven’t even put it in yet.” “I knowww, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” “I do,” You feel him slowly push into you, leaning your head back as you cry out. “This cunt was just waaaiting to get fucked, because today is a little different than the other days,” He picks up his pace, fucking up into you steady but firm, “Today your pussy is a little bit more needy for me,” the recoil of your ass sending vibrations through your lower body as Yunho’s movements are relentless. “Today you’re gonna let me get you pregnant.”

And there it was. Your brain immediately shuts off. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, and so hard-” “Unnnnhhhhhooohhhh my Godddddd!” “Yeahhhhh, yeah let me hear you baby,” You grip the disheveled collar of Yunho’s shirt, completely at his mercy, taking what he gives you. “I’m gonna cum all in this pretty fucking cunt and get you pregnant, I’m gonna make you a Mommy.” “Yunho Please! Pleaseee~” “Please what my love?” Yunho lifts your chin up to meet his gaze, your dark brown eyes staring several miles into his own, communicating beyond a frequency that sound couldn’t even capture in that moment, and he understood every bit of it…but figured it would be fulfilling just to hear it fall from your lips, “Pleaseeee? What.” “Please make me a Mommy~” In seconds, he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he drills into you. “Ahhhhhh!!!!” The sound of your screams, bounce off the interior of the car, and you pray that the seats absorb it all.

“Yesss, yes! Let me hear you Mama. Fuckkkk let me hear you!” “Fuckkkk!” “Uh huhhh~ Fuck! You sound so good taking my dick like this! Ughhhh~” You both were a mess, fully enraptured in pleasure and no longer prisoners to time. You place your forehead against Yunho’s now eye to eye as he continues to lean into you with force, your breathing syncing with his, both chasing your highs. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you.” He asks you with dark eyes, almost as if it wasn’t a request. Suddenly you’re whimpering against his lips, “Yeah you are gonna cum, you’re close, so close for me.” “I’m-“ “I’m gonna-“ He mocks, imitating your whines, “You’re gonna what, cream around me and take this cum like a good little wife?” All you could do was gasp at his sharp remarks, “You’re gonna cum for me like a good little wife? Hm?” “Yeah!” “Yeah? You’re gonna take my fucking cum like a good fucking wife?” “Yes! Yes! Ye- Yes! Yes! Yes!” You gush around him, repeating your words like a mantra against his ear. He returns the favor, “Good Girl” replaying in his surprisingly vulgar vocabulary as he finishes inside of you. You collapse against him for some time. Aligning your heaving chest with his as you both come down. Clammy from the altercation. You swivel around some assuming it may help with the progress, and he moans a little.

“What are you doing?” Yunho laughs at you endearingly, watching you be an unintentional menace. “I don’t know I just thought it might do something.” You giggle some, lifting off of his softening length with your combined messes drooling out of you and down your inner thighs. Yunho takes it all in, shaking his head in amazement at the fucked out state of you. Just as he imagined it, better than he imagined, even. Staring him down, you study his body language, how he looks subtly exhausted but not TOO drained. Almost as if on a bodily timer, your temperature starts to rise again, “You’re plotting.” you narrow your eyes at him. Sucking in a sharp breath between teeth, Yunho helps you up, only to place you over the front armrest.

You squirm as your stomach and breasts make contact with the cold leather. “See I KNEW you were plotting!” “Oh hush, don’t act like you’re not excited.” Yunho makes light work of your tights, pulling off and discarding what was left of it, and sliding your panties off of one of your legs in order to spread them further apart. Your breathing catches at the gust of air that hits your pussy. Yunho’s cock inches away as he works his hand over it. He reaches his hand around holding it out to your mouth, “Spit.”, and you oblige him. He continues to work himself hard again, one hand bunching your business skirt up your waist, exposing your bare ass. His hand slides down to caress it, before landing a harsh smack, resorting back to soothing over the stinging spot. All marks undetectable on your brown skin, he lands a few more smacks on both cheeks, knowing he’ll be safe. You jolt and whine at the barrage of sharp pain and he leans down to pepper the side of your face in kisses, rubbing your attacked spots to soothe the pain.

“Don’t forget to breathe my love.” You didn’t realize you weren’t until he mentioned it, immediately offloading a heavy breath. Yunho clicks his tongue as he braces one hand on your shoulder to hold you in place, fiddling with the bunched up hem of your skirt. Your body stiffens as you feel him use his fingers to collect your cum and push it back into your pussy. You shudder in pleasure, still recovering from your last high, not too far from another if touched too much. You feel him shift behind you again as his cock teases its way past your entrance one more time. “Mmm, You wore this skirt on purpose Mama?” He glides into you with ease, bottoming out effortlessly, and you sink into the armrest, your moan resembling that of a pornstar’s. “You knew you were gonna see me to get this pretty pussy filled, Hmm?” Yunho immediately picks up the pace, keeping his hand firm on your shoulder, guiding you back onto him. “Ooooohhhhh~” “Yeahhhh? You wore this skirt because you knew you were gonna get knocked up with my babies? Huh?” Yunho’s words started to slur as they turned into shameless moans, “Yeahhh~ keep moaning for me, it’s just us here, keep going, I wanna hear youuu~” even he started sounding pornstar-like, it was music to your already ringing ears.

He began to pound into you with fervor, your tits now hanging over the armrest, bouncing violently as you grip the seating of the driver’s and passengers seat to avoid going headfirst into the dashboard. “Oh fuckkkk I’m gonna cum again, shit- shit- shittttt~” Yunho plants a foot on the flooring of the suv to steady himself as he leans flush against your back, engulfing you. “Yes, yes, yessss~ come inside of me pleaseeee~” Your final plea sends him over the edge, ultimately setting off a chain reaction that makes you cum around him all over again.

You shudder with each thrust as he slows his pace gradually before coming to a complete stop, staying in the same position as he bear hugs you from behind over the dashboard. You laugh to yourselves as you match your breathing once more, an exercise you both had been doing since the start of everything. Thank God workers at Yunho’s job actually took advantage of leaving the facility for lunch, or else your windows definitely would’ve been knocked on. Sure, the 5% tint helps, but you’re sure the car rocking would’ve given enough away.

Yunho peels himself off of you and helps you up, sitting you down next to him in the middle seats. You lay your head on his shoulders as the both of you dwell in the backseat, visibly fucked out. Yunho’s shirt hangs open and off one shoulder with a button or two missing, crucifix chain crooked yet still sitting proudly on his chest, even after such a sinful act. Your soft locs were fully down by now, splayed and running down the side of Yunho’s torso. Your skirt and his pants still undone, neither of you bothering to bother with your surroundings just yet. Yet your blouse was surprisingly still somewhat presentable. You both sit in solitude and enjoyment of each other for a little while longer. Yunho looks down at you lovingly, watching as you pull your phone out to do something. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” “Letting the Editor in Chief know that I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day? Noo, I couldn’t possibly…” “Oh well that’s a shame…” You look at your husband, waiting, “Because I told the team to take the rest of the day off.” THAT’S why the deck looked so lifeless. “I can’t believe you set me up!” He peppers your face in kisses one last time.

“Alright, let’s get out of here, we definitely need to change. We’re celebrating tonight.” “Tonight? Forrrrr?” “For theeee…..you know…..” Yunho gestures towards himself then your stomach, and you grin knowingly. “The lunch rush?” “Exactlyyy, the lunch rush.” He says before pulling you in for one last kiss. Yunho helps fix up your appearance before assisting you out of the Range Rover and back into your car. Kissing you for the last time yet again. “I’ll be right behind you.” He starts back to his vehicle, looking over to you, “Oh, feel free to put me in your schedule whenever you have an hour or two for lunch. Just to make sure it takes.” Yunho winks at you, getting back in the car as you both leave work for the day.

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