#does this count as the ao3 author curse

[afterartist]

Small sneak peek to the Barrierfall world building

Not even 1/4 of a way done but hey, a few people have seemed interested recently

(Actual Spoilers btw)

Key:

Blue: Important Story Plot

Green: General World Building

Red: Character Death

Yellow: Magic related Information

White: unsorted

Again this isn’t even half of the stuff that’s gonna happen

But I suck at physically writing notes down in general so be proud of me ):<

[jinxedshapeshifter]

One thing I never thought I'd say: fanfiction got me back into therapy

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[florencebirdsong]

Healer Knows Best

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 1/3

Summary: you have a problem you can’t ignore anymore. The local healer, Agatha Harkness, is more than happy to help.

Tags: naive reader, virgin reader, first time, fingering, medical play, good girl, R is horny and doesn't have the words for it, no pronouns used for R, R is told it doesn’t counts as sex but does says yes to Agatha’s fingers so dubious consent, manipulation

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: dark grey Agatha my beloved

You knock on the healer’s door and wring your hands nervously as you wait for her to answer. Half of you hopes she isn’t home and the other hopes she is. Your problem is embarrassing but you know if she isn’t here now you won’t find the courage to return. Which means the feeling will only get worse.

She opens the door and you struggle to bury the relief and anxiety. Her beauty is startling and you curse your affliction for noticing. Her hair is braided back out of her face, a few strands escaping. The sunlight brings out the detail in her blue eyes.

“Healing or ingredients?” she asks.

You force yourself to look at the ground instead of staring.

“Healing please,” you say, forcing some strength into your voice.

“Very well,” she opens the door wider. “What seems to be the problem?” she asks as she leads you inside the small cottage. 

It’s every surface is crowded with materials and ingredients and tools. You look around nervously. This is the first time you’ve been to see the healer by yourself. You haven’t even been inside before. She doesn’t offer you a seat. She stops in front of the bench that has the most space on it, a mortar and pestle front and centre.

“It’s…um a bit embarrassing,” you say.

“Now, now, dear, I’ve been doing this for decades. There’s nothing I haven’t heard. Or seen,” she adds with a wink.

Something flutters in your stomach and it only makes the feeling worse. 

“It’s about,” you hesitate and then gesture vaguely to your lower stomach.

“Is something wrong with your monthly? Pain worse than usual?” She begins to move items around on the table.  

You cross your arms around yourself. You knew you’d have to explain it for her to be able to help but that doesn’t mean you were able to make yourself prepare for it. 

“It’s not that,” you say. “But it’s-it’s the same thing.”

The word is too vulgar. She turns back around.

“Thing? If it’s not your monthly then how can it be the same thing?”

“I mean,” you fluster, “It’s the same area.”

“You mean your cunt?” she asks bluntly. You gape at her. “This is a medical environment. Use the proper terms.”  You continue to gape at her but she doesn’t seem phased.  “What’s happening to your cunt?”

You gather yourself as best as you can.

“It-“

“My cunt,” she cuts you off. You look at her, lost. “Say it. I told you to use the proper terms. Say my cunt,” she makes a continue gesture.

“M-my cunt,” you force out and the smile she gives you in return warms you and makes that feeling grow, “feels…,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, “weird.” You settle on.

“Weird how?” Her eyes trail down your form. “Itchy. Hot. Tingling. Wet?” 

She steps closer with every word. You swallow harshly and look anywhere but at her.

“Um, tingling. And the last one,” you say quickly. 

“Is there a colour to this wetness?” She asks, close enough to accidentally brush against. 

You shake your head.

“I see,” she says and her eyebrows furrow a little.

“You see?” your ask worriedly at her expression. “You see what?”

“It’s probably nothing,” she tries to wave you off.

It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like you’re going to go crazy. 

“But if it isn’t nothing, then what would it be?” your hands twist anxiously in the skirt of your dress.

“I can’t be sure yet. Hop up,” she taps the empty batch. You hesitate before lifting yourself to sit on the edge. “Now, this can be a little awkward but I need to be sure.”

“What can be awkward?” you ask as she steps closer.

She taps the inside of your knees and you open them without really thinking. She steps between them and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She’s close. Close enough that she’s the only thing you can see. 

Her hand grasps the bottom of your dress and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She doesn’t look away as she lifts the skirt of your dress to your hips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding breathless.

“I need to check for myself. There’s no point upsetting you if it’s nothing.”

“You’re going to…?” you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’m going to touch your cunt. Yes.”

You swallow harshly, your mouth suddenly dry. You don’t stop her when she pushes your legs further apart or when she begins to pull down your underwear. You try not to squirm. She’s a healer. Like she said, she’s seen everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about. It’s still hard not to be when she finally looks at you there. 

“There’s no visual indications, which is a good sign, but I won’t be able to know until I touch,” two fingers stop inches from where you’re dripping and she looks up at you, “May I?”

There’s a look on her face you don’t have the name for you. You nod and her fingers gently run through your soaking folds. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling. You look up at the ceiling when you realise it feels good. You don’t want the healer to see it on your face. 

Her fingers run lower and your hips twitch as they run over that special spot you’re not meant to touch. She does it again with a bit more pressure and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle the embarrassing noise trying to escape it.

“Good,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

You think it’s over until she runs her finger higher and touches that thing. That sensitive something that you’ve only ever brushed. You can’t help gasping at the tingle it sparks. Agatha’s eyes lock onto you.

“Did that hurt?” she asks.

“No,” your voice cracks. “But it felt weird.”

“What about this?” Her finger circles and you cling to the table. “How does this feel?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. I-“ 

She presses down on that spot and the jolt it sends through you makes you close your legs. Her hips stop you. She sighs and pulls her hand away. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to be so upset about it.

“Did that make the feeling stronger?”

“Yes,” you manage to say.

“It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“It’s not?” you ask hopefully. 

“No pain crosses out a couple options. The treatment will be easier that way.”

You relax for the first time. An easy treatment means the thing happening to you will be over soon.

“Do I take something or is it a paste?” you ask, hoping you brought enough money. 

 “Have you ever been with someone, dear?” she asks, ignoring your question.

“Yes.” Of course you have, you aren’t a hermit. You have friends and there’s always those yearly family gatherings. You aren’t sure how a person can go through life without being with someone else. Wouldn’t you die as a baby?

Agatha raises an eyebrow and studies your expression. You shift uncomfortably.

“Let me put it a different way,” she says and her hands land on your thighs.  “Have you ever been fucked?”

“I-excuse me?” you stutter.

“It’s a simple question, dear. One I need answered as your healer.” 

“I’m not married,” you say.

“So? That doesn’t mean you’ve never snuck off with another girl and let her fool around under your skirts.”

You’re so embarrassed that you feel like you’re going to die.

“Only your spouse is allowed to touch you under there,” you murmur.  “And healers,” you quickly add on.  

The look she gives you is almost amused.

“So that’s a no?” she asks and you nod your head. “I didn’t think so,” she says.

You watch, confused, as she moves to the other side of the room and picks up a small purple jar. She returns to her spot between your thighs, you didn’t even think to close them. She takes off the lid and tilts the jar towards you.

You peer in curiously at the jar. The gel inside of it is clear and you can’t smell anything.

“You’ll need to apply this twice a day,” she says. When she doesn’t say where or how much you ask. “In your cunt, dear.”

“In?”

“It can be a little uncomfortable for someone who hasn’t been touched there before,” she says sympathetically.

She hands you the jar and you stare down at it with wide eyes.

“How far in?” Is the first thing you can think of. 

She snorts a little and you look up at her.

“All the way, dear.”

“How-how deep-“

She grasps your shaking hands. 

“How about I administer the first dose?”

Your stomach twists. The feeling that’s been haunting you grows.

“Yes, please,” you don’t want to do it wrong.

You watch, almost entranced, as she takes the jar and dips two fingers into the liquid. She swirls them around for a few moments before scooping some out. She runs her fingers over you the spot you aren’t allowed to touch and you gasp at the cool feeling. One finger gently circles your entrance.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she murmurs.

She begins to slowly push one finger inside of you and you cling desperately to the table. The feeling is new and strange and you feel a slight stretching sensation. You look up from the strange, exciting image of a finger entering you to find Agatha focused solely on your face, analysing your every reaction. Embarrassment runs through you but can’t bring yourself to look away. Your breathing is heavy and it’s hard to think about anything other than her.

She pulls out before she’s all the way inside of you and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. You’re surprised at how heavily you’re breathing and how desperately you want her back inside of you. 

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Agatha says, her voice now has a rougher edge to it. “I’m going to need to use more fingers to properly coat your insides.” 

“More?” your voice cracks and you try to hide how eager you are.

“It’ll feel the same as before,” she reassures as her fingers return to your entrance. “Just a bit tighter.”

She doesn’t give you time to question, she pushes two wet fingers inside of you. She’s just as slow as the first time and you fight yourself to keep still as every inch makes that feeling inside of you grow.

“It’s making it worse,” you gasp. 

You thought the mixture was meant to stop this feeling inside of your cunt.

“Take it,” she says warningly and you whimper. “This won’t work if we can’t get it deep enough and you need to be wide open for me to do that.”

You don’t fight as she pushes deeper.  You cling to her shoulders and try to open your legs wider, hoping that will help with the stretch. You whimper when she gets to her second knuckle and you can feel the shiver that runs through her at the sound.

“Good girl, almost there,” she says. 

The name makes the tingling spread and you desperately hope she calls you it again.

Her fingers stop and you look down. They’re fully inside of you. It makes the feeling grow more and you have to focus on staying still to not embarrass yourself further.

“Is that it?” you ask, a slight whimper to your words.

“Not quite,” Agatha says, she’s got a smile on her face you haven’t seen before but it quickly transforms back into her professional mask. “We have to make sure it’s spread evenly.”

“How-”

She pulls her fingers half-way out before pushing back into you. A noise you’ve never made before escapes you. There’s a look on her face that you don’t have time to question as she does it again. And again and again. You try to count how many times she moves in and out of you to distract yourself from the wave of pleasure growing and growing inside of you. It doesn’t work. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of her fingers. How good it feels every time she thrusts back into you. How much you don’t want her to stop.

“I’m not deep enough,” she says and your confusion comes out in a whimper. It feels like she is. It feels like she’s reached the deepest part of you. “I’ll have to use another finger.”

“I-I can’t take that much,” you say with a slight whine.

Two fingers feel good, they feel so good but the idea of her adding another scares you. Two barely fit. Yet the memory of how the stretch turned into spine-tingling pleasure has you willing to take anything she gives you.

“You will,” she says and slips in her third finger without anymore warning. 

Your cry quickly turns to a moan as the feeling inside of you intensifies. Agatha makes a small sound when she looks down at her hand. She slows down and your hips buck in protest. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t feeling overwhelmingly good.

She curls her fingers and that feeling triples.

“Something’s happening,” you say in a high pitched voice.

“Let it,” Agatha says, the reassurance from before gone as she concentrates solely on her fingers. She curls them again and hits something deep inside of you. You throw your head back and moan as that feeling snaps and your body floods with pleasure. It pulses inside of you in a never ending loop.

 Agatha slows down but doesn’t stop until your exhausted body tilts forward and leans against her.

She gently pulls out and you make a protesting noise. The feeling of being so empty upsetting after being full for the first time. She chuckles quietly and wipes off her wet fingers on your thigh. 

She quietly lets you get your strength back. Hands firmly holding you but not caressing. Your breathing is steadier when you pull back but it hitches at the look on her face. Her pupils are blown and she almost seems to be drinking you in with her eyes.

“Good,” she says and steps back. You feel a little lost. Agatha wipes her hand on a clean rag before picking up the jar again. “Repeat every two days. Let’s say, six times.”

You nod mutely and take the jar. You don’t get up. You don’t think your legs can hold you just yet.

“What happened at the end…” you trail off hoping Agatha will fill in the rest. She doesn’t. “Was I-was it supposed to?”

Agatha huffs a laugh.

“Yes, dear,” she says, “You needed to for the mixture to take effect properly.”

“Oh,” the tight hold embarrassment has loosens. Then anxiety takes hold. “Does that mean I need to do that?”

“Yes,” Agatha says with a secret smile. 

You swallow nervously.

“Like how you did it?”

“There are a few other ways but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You nod and fiddle nervously with the jar as you try to imagine pushing your own fingers inside of you. The idea isn’t unpleasant. You’re more worried about someone discovering you. Will they believe that a healer has told you to? How are you meant to prove otherwise if they don’t? Drag them down to Agatha? If they really believe you’re breaking such a rule they won’t give you time to do so.

Agatha must see the look on your face.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lock the door, pull up your dress. It shouldn’t take too long with how sensitive you are,” she says and you fluster at her crassness. “Don’t be afraid to come back if you need some help with applying the mixture.”

You nod meekly and take the jar.

“I will.”

[daizymax]

wondrous | lmh (m)

summary: pregnancy is strange and uncomfortable and even kind of gross, but your loving husband is always willing to show you just how desirable and wonderful you are.

pairing: lee know x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.3k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; pregnancy; some body insecurities; binary gender talk; graphic sexual content; pregnant sex; dirty talk; lactation kink; creampie

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

Slamming the car door with more force than necessary is childish, and if your husband were here, he would probably tell you so. Well, maybe not in such blatant terms. First, he would probably ask you to explain what led you to such pissy behavior, and your answer would be that you’re frustrated and out of patience.

You hate that your patience is in such short supply these days. You know you are going to need all of it and then some when the baby comes.

You rest one of your hands on the crest of your bulging stomach and sigh softly. “I’m sorry,” you say to the ever-growing baby within. “I guess you might need to be patient with me, too, if it’s not too much to ask.”

The tears well up unbidden. That happens often lately with your hormones on the fritz. Evidently something as mundane as a shopping trip to the mall is enough to upset you nowadays. Then your mind dwells on how you should be grateful to be in a position to buy the things you want and need whenever you want, and that only makes you sob harder.

You allow the silly little breakdown to run its course, knowing it will be better to sit and let it out now before you drive home.

After a few minutes, you sniffle and wipe your wet cheeks in shame. After a couple more minutes of deep breaths, when you are certain you are stable enough to drive, you start the engine.

The commute home gives you some time to decompress, and the sight of Minho’s car in the driveway lifts your spirits. He told you this morning that he might have to work late this evening — which was fine by you since it translated to having more money for the pending expenses of birthing and raising a child — but having him home is even better.

A loud clang and a muttered curse greet you as you enter the front door. It may not be a polite reaction, but you can’t help but smile at whatever your husband is struggling with in the kitchen. You sling your shopping bags onto the couch and go to rescue him.

Minho is bent over at the waist, rummaging through a bottom cabinet with his backside to you. You take a moment to ogle the fit of his jeans appreciatively before making your presence known.

“Hi honey, need some help?”

He flinches and whirls around. “Heyyy, doll! I didn’t hear you come in.” He hastily combs his fingers through his smooth brown hair as if to compose himself for you.

“That’s because you were busy tearing down the kitchen, from the sound of it,” you laugh.

He does not even dispute your joke. He just groans in frustration and kicks his foot out behind him to close the cabinet. “Where do we keep the rice cooker? I swear I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you look here?” You pull open the correct cabinet near your calves and squat down to retrieve it. He rushes to stop you.

“Hey, hey, let me get it.” He comes over and crouches with you only to put his hands on your hips and guide you back up with him. “You shouldn’t exert yourself. I have a bun in that oven, lady.”

You snort loudly. “Don’t I know it. My whole day was an over-exertion, though. I think I can handle stooping over to grab the rice cooker.”

“Oh?” His face becomes concerned, eyebrows wrinkling and pink lips pouting adorably. His hands begin sliding up and down along your sides. “What was wrong with your day?”

“Oh, I’ve just decided I hate shopping for maternity clothes now,” you say, sighing heavily. The statement is so frivolous it makes you cringe, but the rest of your unimportant complaints come flooding out anyway. “They’re all so unflattering, not to mention it’s so uncomfortable trying them on. Getting undressed and redressed is such a pain in the ass. It’s like a whole fucking workout now, I swear to god.”

“Ah, I bet. Poor thing,” Minho says without a trace of condescension to his tone, and you envy his patience. He pulls you in for a hug in his strong arms, and your swollen stomach bumps against his flat one.

Inspired by his understanding, you continue unburdening your rather meaningless worries into his shoulder. “It was so crowded, too. I hate how everyone stares at me all the time just because I’m pregnant. And I especially hate when other parents come up to me and give me advice or tell me stories about their own pregnancies, like I fucking asked.”

Minho laughs and massages his fingertips into the back of your head. “I think they’re just trying to be kind and helpful. They only mean well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also super annoying.”

“Sorry. What can I do to help?”

You shake your head and step back from him. “Right now I just want to shower and change my clothes. I’m not kidding about that ‘workout.’ I’ve been sweating for hours and I feel disgusting right now. The boob sweat is strong under this sweater right now.”

“Well, we’ve got a towel right here.” He whips the dish towel off the handle of the stove with a flourish and holds it up with a cheeky grin. “Let me help you.”

You laugh. “You want to dry my boobs off with that?”

“It’s clean!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“You’ll be glad for my silliness when our baby comes,” he says, dropping the towel to start tickling you mercilessly.

Your stomach muscles heave with your fit of giggles, and the baby starts kicking to join in on the commotion.

“Ah! No t-tickling, damnit! The b-baby doesn’t like it.”

“No?” Minho stops his playful torment and cups your stomach on either side. It only takes a second for him to feel what you mean. “I think maybe she does.”

“Or he. The baby could be a boy, you know.”

The two of you have decided to keep the gender a surprise until the birth, but that does not stop your husband from speculating.

“Could be,” he says a bit dismissively. He kneels down on the tiled floor so his face is level with your belly-button, which has recently begun to protrude outwards like the rest of you.

He runs his fingers along the surface of your stretched sweater and says quietly, “I just have a hunch that it’s a girl. She’s feisty, like you.” He places a sweet kiss on the top of your belly, then speaks directly to it. “Sorry about the tickling, sweet baby girl. Daddy was just making Mommy laugh to help make her feel better. I have something else that might make her feel better, though.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Minho interlocks his fingers with yours and leads you up the stairs — which have become quite the strain on your knees lately — and to the baby’s room.

The moment he pushes open the door, you see exactly what he means. The crib now resembles a crib and not a scattering of wooden pieces strewn around the floor the way they had been for weeks. The inside is lined with blankets and stuffed animals, and the mobile you chose is hanging above it. It could hardly be more picturesque.

With this, the nursery is complete. The painting had been finished a couple months ago, and the other pieces of necessary and decorative furniture have been set in their places for quite some time as well.

“Wow, you actually finished it?” you say. “How did you have time to do that after work today?”

“You were gone for longer than you realize,” he says, chuckling. “I took half the day off to come home and surprise you, but you weren’t here, so I decided to surprise you with this instead.”

“Consider me surprised,” you say with a smile. You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking over to the crib. You give the rail a little shake to test the sturdiness of your husband’s handiwork, and your eyebrows raise in satisfaction at the result.

“I only had to start all over again once,” Minho says proudly, sidling up beside you and gliding a hand along the small of your back to rest on your hip. His thumb traces little circles into it.

“You did a great job,” you say, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his waist in return, albeit with a bit of difficulty due to your belly getting in the way.

“Glad you like it.” He leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then down to your chin, then back up to your mouth. You smile and chase after his lips when he pulls away, and he laughs as he kisses you again. “Come on, let’s sit for a bit and get you off your feet. Dinner and a shower can wait a little while longer.” He moves over to the rocking chair in the corner and takes a seat, then pats his lap invitingly.

“Min, I’ll crush you,” you say with a shake of your head.

He shakes his head right back. “Oh, stop it. No you won’t. You’re not that heavy, and I’m not that fragile.”

He starts beckoning you by stretching his arms out and repeatedly opening and closing his hands. The action is irresistibly cute, so you relent. You toe off your shoes and go to sit on his proposed seat. You try not to rest too much weight on him as you sit on his knee, but he ruins your position by taking your hips and dragging you further up his muscular thigh.

“Put your legs up on me,” he says. “If it’s not too uncomfortable for you, I mean.”

You do as he says and turn sideways to hoist your legs over his other thigh. Minho holds onto your knee with one hand and wraps his other arm behind your back to keep you in place.

“There we go. Is this okay?” he asks.

You shift and wiggle until your back is relatively comfortable. “I think so. Are you okay?”

He smiles and squeezes you reassuringly. “I’ve got my beautiful wife on my lap... we’re sitting right where we’ll be rocking our baby when she — or he — is born... I’d say I’m pretty perfect.”

You take his word for it and sigh in content, leaning into him and resting your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek against your head and pushes his feet off the floor to begin gently rocking the chair as it was intended.

For a few moments, the two of you sit and rock in silence until Minho begins humming softly. Something mellow and baritone. The melody is one you recognize, but the lyrics to that particular song elude you. You’ll ask him about it later. Right now, the vibrations from his throat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat are lulling you peacefully. The faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body seep comfortably into your skin.

You tilt your face up to kiss his throat appreciatively for the comfort he is providing. He hums out of tune at your gentle touch, and you kiss him there again. This time you take a bit of his flesh into your mouth with a delicate suck, and he hisses in a short breath. His reaction spurs you to do it again, and then again, until the honey skin is left pink from the teasing.

“Mm, that feels really good, babe,” Minho murmurs. The pet name makes your heart flutter a bit; it was used so frequently at the start of your relationship, but over the years it has become a bit more rare. It makes you feel a little sexy, even in your sweaty, bloated, and achy state.

“Yeah? Should I keep going?” you ask. Your lips ghost over his neck, and your fingers begin trailing down the center of his chest.

“Please.” There is a slight rasp to the syllable that makes you feel proud considering you have barely even done anything to him.

Your fingers find the hems of his sweater and white t-shirt and begin tugging at them. “Do you mind if I take these off?”

“Not at all.” He shrugs out of his cardigan then lifts his arms so you can have the honor of pulling up his shirt to toss it aside. The taut muscles in his chest and abdomen twitch as your fingertips graze them. Before you get to the waistband of his jeans, Minho takes your wandering fingers and stops you.

“Wait,” he says. You look at him curiously. “You said you had a rough day. I should take care of you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I figured I could start by getting you out of your clothes, and then we can see where things lead.”

Sex with your husband has been infrequent over the course of your thirty-week pregnancy so far, but it has occurred. The doctor assured you there are no complication risks involved, even when this far along. Your pregnancy is perfectly healthy, and sex is not harmful to the baby, so you and Minho are free to continue your normal sex life.

The problem is you don’t always feel up for sex. Between your various aches and the increasing challenge of finding a comfortable position, you sometimes have to wonder if an orgasm is really worth the trouble. But it has been a while since your last release, and you trust Minho to be caring and attentive, so you nod in agreement.

He guides you to stand up from his lap, and you allow him to remove your shirt. The sheen of sweat that has been building for the greater part of the afternoon is made even more apparent when the open air meets it.

“Ugh, I still feel gross,” you mutter under your breath. The inkling of sexiness you felt just moments ago is already gone.

“You don’t look gross,” Minho says. He scans you from head to toe before settling his gaze on your chest. “Will you take your bra off for me, please?”

You hesitate a few seconds, then unhook the restrictive garment and shrug out of it to let it drop to the floor. The moment it is gone, Minho reaches out to grasp your hips and slide his hands up along the expanse of your stomach. His warm, tender touch sends a shiver through you, and the baby begins fidgeting again. Your husband must feel it, too, because he smiles up at you brightly.

“God, how did I get so lucky? You are so beautiful.” His tone carries real sincerity. “Especially with your body like this, carrying our child. You’re so fucking… wonderful.”

You automatically let out an unflattering snort of self-consciousness as you think of the new stretch marks striping your breasts, hips, and stomach. You can’t even bring yourself to look at them right now.

“I mean it. It’s true,” he insists. His eyes drop to your bare stomach to look at what you will not. “It’s amazing how you’re able to grow a baby inside of you, just because I came in you.”

There is laughter in your breathy exhale. “Gee, you make it sound so sexy, Min.”

“But it is sexy. You’re growing hands and feet and… eyes inside your womb right now, this very moment.”

You wrinkle your nose. “That doesn’t sound sexy at all. It sounds scientific.”

“Yeah, but it’s also kind of magical, isn’t it? And just think about it: you’ll be able to feed the baby with your body, too…” Minho folds his bottom lip between his teeth for a second as he studies your chest with great interest. “Just look at these perfect tits, getting all swollen with milk for our baby.”

He starts to squeeze, lift, and massage your breasts reverently, completely undeterred by the stickiness coated on the undersides of them from your sweat. A quiet moan rumbles up from your throat.

Even though he is being gentle, the stimulation is still enough to make your nipples begin discharging a thick fluid that is slightly yellow in color. The sight of it kind of embarrasses you, even though it is completely natural. Your doctor explained that it is the “pre milk” before your body begins producing normal breast milk after the birth.

“Min…” you fret with a nervous giggle. You peel his hands away and take a step back from him.

“It’s okay, babe,” he says. He stands up and rearranges your hands so that he is the one holding yours. “It’s just your body, don’t be ashamed. I told you, you’re beautiful. You’re wonderful. You’re amazing.”

He lifts the heavy mounds on your chest again and presses them together as if to get a better view of the wetness seeping from them. He swipes his thumbs over both of your wet nipples, then casually sticks one of his thumbs in his mouth as if he has done this many times before.

“Mm, tastes sweet,” he says.

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Can I… do you think I could...” He trails off in a puff that sounds like he is the one who’s embarrassed. Eventually, he blurts, “I want to try some more.”

“What, you want to actually… drink it?” you ask. The notion surprises you, and you want to make sure you are understanding him correctly.

“I’d like to try, if you’re comfortable with that. I just want to appreciate your body in every way.”

Minho rolls a sensitive pebble between his thumb and forefinger as he waits for your reply.

After another second, you nod your consent, and he flashes you a toothy smile before he latches his mouth directly onto your nipple. The touch of his soft lips coupled with the tip of his tongue makes you gasp in pleasure. Goosebumps break out over your skin as he suckles delicately. You have to admit the sensation of the fluid flowing from your nipple is oddly satisfying, and the wet suction sound Minho is creating is more than a little erotic. Heat starts to pool between your legs to dampen your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asks you again, peering up at your face as he switches to the other tit. When his tongue takes the nipple in between his lips, you notice it is coated with a milky sheen.

“Yeah, it… it actually feels really good,” you confess. Without consciously choosing to do it, your thighs press together to apply some pressure to your clit. Even with your stomach in the way, Minho’s smirk tells you he does not miss the action.

“Are you wet down there between your legs, too?”

“Yes.”

“Dripping?”

“Mm…”

“I want to feel.”

“Be my guest,” you invite. He goes to slip his hand past the waistband of your pants, but you quickly instruct, “Just take them off.”

He does not need to be told twice. He detaches from your breast and yanks your pants down to your ankles. You steady yourself on his shoulders as you pull your feet free.

“Panties, too,” you add, but his fingers are already hooking into them.

Once they are shed, Minho takes his time running his warm hands back up your calves to your inner thighs, spreading your legs just a little wider than hip-width apart. He wastes no more time in dipping the pads of three fingers along your slit. The slickness he finds there has both of you groaning lowly.

“You are wet. Is this all because I sucked a little milk from your tits?”

A slow smile grows across your face. “Maybe.”

“Should I suck some more?”

“I don’t think there’s much in there at a time yet, honestly,” you tell him rather seriously. “Not until after the baby is born.”

He hums in understanding. “That’s okay, babe. I’ll settle for eating your pussy, if that’s alright,” he says, sinking two knuckles inside you.

“J-Jesus, Min. Y-yeah. Please.”

He grins, drawing his fingers back a little just to shove them in forcefully. “Alright. Have a seat for me,” he says. He removes his fingers from you and slides them into his mouth for the taste of something else. He really does adore all parts of you.

The rocking chair tips backwards when you settle into it, which only improves the access Minho has to your pussy. He makes it even easier for himself, however, by kneeling down and hoisting your legs onto each of his shoulders.

“Is this good?” he asks. He brings his head between your thighs and dots soft kisses along one of them.

You scoot your butt to the very edge of the seat. “Yeah, for now. I’ll let you know if it starts to hurt.”

“Please do,” he agrees at once.

He leans forward and parts your sticky folds with two fingers before dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top in one slow, firm motion. Your breath hitches in your chest when he buries the pink muscle into your wet hole. He licks in a circle from one pulsing wall to the other and back again, then pulls back and licks his lips.

“Do you want my tongue in you and fingers on your clit, or my tongue on your clit and fingers in you?” he asks. He does not normally require such direct instructions, but he has been so concerned with you in your pregnant state. He wants to make sure he is giving you as much pleasure as possible, and he does not want any room for misunderstanding or disappointment.

“Fingers inside, please,” you say.

Minho fits one finger back inside your pussy, soon followed by a second, and your walls squeeze tightly around the digits to welcome and secure them. Then he flattens his tongue to press it back and forth, up and down over your clit. He builds a steady pace that renders your eyes closed and mouth unhinged to let flow a stream of pleasurable sighs and moans. Your pitch heightens considerably when his fingers hit pay dirt on that spot inside you that always makes your toes curl. When you rock against his face to get all the friction you can, the chair moves with you.

“Shit, this is so hot, babe,” your husband groans from below. “Should’ve eaten you out in a rocking chair a long time ago.”

You start to respond but your words pinch into a squeal from a particularly strong tap against your g-spot with his fingertips, and that seems to be all the answer he could want.

Minho becomes greedy for your unfiltered noises and closes his lips around your clit to suck it the way he sucked your nipples just moments earlier. A shiver tumbles down each rung of your spine, all the way to your clenched toes. Your muscles tense to cope with the sheer intensity of the pleasure being administered to that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His fingers work tirelessly to undo you in tandem with his skillful tongue. The crest of your climax is drawing near so soon.

“Oh my god, Min,” you breathe with hardly any sound. “Fuck, you’ve got me so close already.”

He grunts his acknowledgement. “Is this how you want to come, doll? All over my fingers? All over my tongue?”

It is very tempting, but you still decline. “N-no. I want you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you.” He twists his fingers pointedly. “Can you be more specific?”

“You know what I mean,” you groan.

He has to get in a few more swipes of his tongue before he can say, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it. You can have everything you want if you ask me.”

“I want your c-cock inside me. Now, please.”

Minho makes no move to cease his actions other than to briefly retract his tongue to speak again. “You sure you don’t want me to just keep going? You’re so close.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please, fuck me already.”

The moan he lets out when he pulls away from you and gets to his feet is positively carnal. He rushes to undo his jeans, then shoves both them and his underwear to the floor in one swoop. You tilt your head to take in the view of his erect cock; the bulbous head is nearly purple from engorgement, and there is a glistening wetness at the slit from a buildup of precum.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

“Let’s try the chair.”

“Do you want to bend over it and I’ll fuck you from behind? Or do you want me to sit down and have you ride me?”

“Sit down and I’ll try riding you.”

You rock yourself up and out of the chair, and Minho takes a firm hold of each of your hands to help tug you to your feet. He kisses you quick and sloppy, giving you a quick taste of your arousal, before switching places with you and taking a seat. His cock points upwards as the perfect target for you to sit on.

You face away from him and straddle his legs to get yourself in position. One of his hands steadies your lowering hips as the other lines his dick up for entry. The tip squeezes into your warm wetness with ease. Minho spreads his legs wider and thrusts up to fit a few more inches of himself. With another shove from him and a bit of wriggling on your part, he bottoms out.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good,” he rumbles from behind you. Both of his hands are clenched tightly on your hips now.

You moan in agreement. “So do you.”

Bracing yourself on the arms of the chair, you raise yourself up a couple inches, then sink back down swiftly. Minho plants his feet firmly to keep the chair steady and meet you blow for blow as you start up a rhythm. The two of you grunt and pant with every stroke; the sounds are out of sync, but your movements are not.

The friction feels good, but your looming orgasm from earlier is not quite building again as you had hoped it would. Furthermore, your arms are already beginning to tremble from your efforts.

“Shit,” you swear in frustration. “Maybe this won’t work after all.”

He brings up his earlier suggestion and says, “Want to try bending over?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try that.”

His wet dick falls out of you to slap against his stomach when you stand up from his lap. Again, the two of you switch positions so you can lean down and prop your arms along the armrests of the chair. The seat tilts downward as you bend over and press your head against the back of it, and your breasts hang heavy below you. You vaguely notice they have begun to leak again.

Minho steps up behind you and returns his hands to your waist to lift your backside a little higher to expose yourself to him. The head of his cock briefly pokes over your asshole when he guides it into place at your pussy again. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushes back inside and waits for an extended moment while you to readjust to the tight stretch of his girth.

When you tell him you’re ready, he recreates the rhythm you had started earlier, but at a slightly faster tempo now. Each smack of his tensed thighs against your buttocks makes your breasts bounce — another motion that does not go unnoticed by him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes. One of his hands reaches over to cup one swinging breast and then the other. His fingers toy at your wet nipples once more. “You’re already such a MILF.”

The term makes you burst into surprised laughter. “Oh my god, please do not call me that,” you say.

“Why not?” Minho laughs back. “It’s true. You’re so. Damn. Sexy.” He emphasizes each word with concise, gasp-inducing thrusts. “And motherhood is only going to enhance that.”

“Ungh, right now I just want to come,” you groan, not interested in continuing a conversation at the moment, no matter how flattering. Your body feels heavy, but the coil in you is getting close to snapping again. “Please, Min... please…”

“Oh, you will, doll. I want you to come just as badly.” He pinches your drippy nipple with one hand, maneuvers the other hand around your waist, under your stomach, between your legs to trap your throbbing clit between two fingers. “Want you to come all over this cock.”

“Keep going and I will,” you promise him.

He speeds his hips up until he is hitting your g-spot with every push. He rubs and plays with your clit just the way you like. The steady whapping sound of skin on skin fills the nursery, along with your breathless encouragements for your husband to keep groping, keep pounding, keep going.

“You’re dripping everywhere for me, aren’t you, baby?” he grunts, his breath hot and ragged. “Got your sticky little clit in one hand, and your tit is leaking in my other.”

He is not wrong. Everything is so wet, so hot, so sticky. You whimper and repeatedly push back against him to further increase the friction.

“So fucking filthy,” he goes on, nearly growling. “Makes me want to bust and fill you up with cum. There’s gonna be so fucking much of it.”

His words, combined with a few more sweeps of his fingers over your clit and stabs of his cockhead against the sweetest part of you, burst you straight through the roof of your climax. With a whiny, broken moan, your pussy clamps him tightly, and it is not more than four of five more strokes before he joins you in sheer bliss. He seizes and grunts deeply as his cum shoots out of his twitching cock to meet the resistance of your already-occupied womb. He was right — there is a lot of it. The viscous white fluid oozes out of you and down along your thighs before the spurts have even finished trickling out of him.

Both pairs of legs between the two of you are shaky as Minho pulls out of your swollen pussy with a slick squelch. He helps straighten your body and pulls you into an adoring hug as you both regain your lost breath. His sweaty chest is nearly as damp as yours as it heaves against your back. You can feel his heart racing.

“You alright, doll?” he checks while dotting sweet kisses along your shoulder. “Was that good?”

“Very good,” you pant with a blissed smile. You turn your head to the side and pucker your mouth for a kiss. Your lower belly is cramping from the intensity of your orgasm, and you massage it absently as Minho’s lips envelop yours. His fingers bump yours as he, too, goes to cradle your stomach.

“How’s our little princess?” he asks next.

“Fine,” you answer. You kiss him deeply and whisper against his mouth: “We’re both just fine, thanks to the daddy.”

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

copyright © 2024 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[nyarumie]

Water Predicament. (Oneshot)

narumi gen x f!reader - smut, NSFW. improper use of gaming controller, pussy eating and fingering, i guess this counts as pussy drunk gen, best friends to ???

Author's Note: Literally my FIRST ever smut/nsfw 😭 Forgive me if there are lapses here and there, I tried my best! Let me know if you want a part two 💌 Feedback is appreciated!

Cross-posted on Ao3. Please check pinned for masterlist, links, and other important info (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

This was only an accident.

As best friends, it is only natural for you to stay in Gen’s office on a daily nightly basis, gracing him with your company (and occasional co-op) as “a sign of your mighty and genuine friendship”, your words, not his.

He had asked you to join him in Mario Kart, deciding it was nice to take a breather from grind-heavy games. You, who has been cleaning up his mess for the past hour out of boredom, happily accepted the invitation.

You sat cross-legged beside him on his futon, grabbing the long forgotten controller on the floor.

Pocky in mouth, he asked you, “You fine with random maps?”

“Always up for anything.” you said.

He wordlessly set up the round you’ll be playing, taking this opportunity to eat up as many pocky sticks as you can; not that he’ll run out of it, half of his snack supply was from you. As you grab another pocky, you hear the countdown of the round go off.

“3… 2…” Now that's your sign to get the gear working.

“1… Go!”

And the vehicles went off. Both of you were silent, save for the occasional grumbles and curses whenever a random player takes over you.

This went on for several rounds, and by the 5th round, you found yourself getting thirsty. Losing or winning didn't matter to you, deciding to stop in the middle of the race. Scanning the stashes of unopened cans, you find that none of those caffeinated drinks fancy your tastes.

You tugged at Gen’s oversized shirt’s sleeve, gaining a percentage of his attention, but still not looking away from the screen. “Mhm?”

“Gen, don't you have a bottle of water around here? I need a drink.”

“Beside me.”

So he does drink water too.

Getting up, you went over to his other side and grabbed an unopened bottle. You went back to your original position, pressing the controller between your thighs as you tried to open the bottle.

‘The cap isn't even budging!’ you internally complained.

You decided to press the water bottle in your thigh too, making the controller press further in.

You're still struggling with opening the cap, despite your thighs and one hand tightly holding it down while the other tries forcing it to twist. Looking to the side, you see Gen still paying no mind to you, which is totally fine, just to save yourself from this predicament.

‘I can kill a goddamn Honju and not open a shit ass water bottle? You’ve gotta be kidding me!’

As you struggle with the bottle, your unmoving Mario Kart character has finally been found by the other players, purposely attacking you with direct-hit items just to torment you—a stranger to them all. Hit after hit causes the system to consequently cause the controller to… shake violently against your clothed sex.

You paid no mind to it, thinking that it will pass—but oh, the random players you matched with are ruthless. They won't stop the attack, the controller’s vibration not stopping anytime soon; causing you to weaken your grip on the water bottle and try your hardest to not moan.

You should've known better and pulled the controller away, but alas, before you can even do that, a rather loud and needy whine slipped from your lips.

Your head whipped to Gen’s direction swiftly, checking if he even heard you, only to find him still focused on the game.

Embarrassed is an understatement to describe you right now. You felt ashamed and disgusted that you’d even feel pleasure from whatever this is! For goodness’ sake, this is Gen’s game controller! It just so happened to have a vibrating feature, that's all.

Still… you’d be lying if you denied the pleasure you felt. Awkwardly, you slid further back so that you won't be caught by Gen’s peripheral vision. You kept the stick of the controller right where you pressed them, a different kind of thirst starting to overtake your senses—water bottle now disregarded.

Pathetic, you felt absolutely pathetic. The perfect definition of getting horny at the wrong place and wrong time. You felt your breathing gradually getting heavier at each vibration you felt, licking your lips as you got needier. You should stop, but you can't. You’re mentally apologizing to Gen right now.

Unable to help it, you once again slip out another needy sound, much subtle this time. “F-fuck…”

To your horror, you suddenly heard him speak, causing you to shriek and pull away the controller.

“You know, you could've just told me if you wanted to fuck.” he said, now turning to watch you with, eyes filled with amusement.

“What are you—!”

“Hm. Right. What were you doing? And to my controller, too.”

Looking at anything but him, your head is a mess as you try to reason your way out if this. Is he mad? “Um… Gen! I was just… just trying to open the water bottle and, this — it was an accident!”

He started inching closer to you, and you know you should be avoiding him, but it's as if you're a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move.

“I’m no idiot. I was also throwing at your character, y’know. That was no accident.”

His arms caged you from where you are sitting, your eyes going wide at your close proximity. You know his figure and stature is much larger than yours, but hell, the evident difference from how close the two of you are makes you want to be devoured.

“At first, I thought nothing of your needy whine as frustration; that water bottle sure is tight as hell. But you were acting weird out of the blue. And you’re not particularly too quiet either, in case you didn't know.”

There's no use denying the obvious, then. You placed your hands on his chest, eyebrows knitting closely together. “Alright, alright! Fine, I was nasty and felt disgusting using your controller that way. I apologize. I should've—”

“You should've asked me to fuck you instead. There, I finished it for you.”

Pinkish hues stared back at your colored irises, his eyes showing no hint of humor, rendering you speechless.

Sensing your hesitation, he lowered his head to the junction of your ear and jaw, softly trailing his lips across the outline of your face. Your heart thumped at this, breathing getting heavy.

A hand made its way over the expanse of your exposed thigh, a blessing that you wore comfortable shorts tonight. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers going underneath your shirt.

“Gonna keep caressing you like this if you don't tell me what you want.”

He’s not making this any easier for you at all. You already felt too heated up at the slightest touch he gave you, saying out loud your desires is just outright embarrassing that you’d rather fade into thin air. But you were getting needier, and you trusted Gen more than you trust anyone.

Breathlessly, you tightly grabbed his shirt, finally giving in. “Gen… Gen, please, need something, need you—wanna feel good, please.”

Hearing this, he wasted no time slotting his lips against yours, earning a whine from you. Without pausing, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you, sitting you back down on his lap. His hands wandered almost everywhere—your thighs, arms, the plushness of your ass, and the shape of your waist. With newfound courage, your tongue sought entrance to his mouth, causing him to groan and squeeze your asscheeks.

His hands found their way through the inside of your shirt, trailing all the way up to cup your breasts. He suddenly pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you. With hooded eyes, you raise a brow at him in confusion.

He kissed your nose. “Let me know if I do something that makes you uncomfortable. I’m giving you a free pass to punch me too.”

You snort. “Didn't know you can still crack a joke. But of course, I’ll take your words to heart. Please continue?”

“Mhm… You're so needy.” he said, pulling your shirt up along the process, revealing your sports bra underneath. You still wear these even at night?

Deciding to tease you, he lightly pinched your nipples through your bra, causing you to whine and arch your back towards him, your hands finding purchase in his hair. “Don't tease. Please, need more. Wanna feel your mouth everywhere, Gen.”

Satisfied with this, he hummed and removed your sports bra and shirt in one go, tongue immediately teasing the surrounding of a nipple and a hand on the other.

Your breath shuddered at the sensation, now fully aware of how close you're hugging him to you.

His mouth moved to the other breast and sucked, groaning at how hard your nipple has become. You hear him speak throughout his ministrations, your whines turning into moans at how lewd his sucking sounds. “Mmpf… So soft, you're so fucking turned on. I bet you're drenched down there right now,” he groaned.

One of his hands supported the back of your head, the other going around your waist. “Wrap your legs around me.” he said.

You did as he asked, moving to lay you down on his futon. He moved his way down, pulling your shorts off of you along the process. He held your legs apart, staring with awe at the wetness evident in your panties. He pressed his thumb to your still covered pussy, earning a whine from you. “Gen, more. Please, do something, anything. Need to come.”

Wordlessly, he moved your panties to the side, cursing at the sight of your fully exposed wetness. “God, you're practically dripping. How shameless you are, really.” he teased. “Since you started with my controller, how about…”

He started another round of game on his BS5, setting the difficulty to the highest mode—that’ll make the AI-controlled opponents continuously attack his unmoving character, causing the controller to vibrate nonstop.

You held your breath in anticipation, getting needier at his idea. The game started, and he pressed the controller to your dripping hole as he felt it vibrate. Your back arched, surprised at the sudden sensation. “H-hah…! Give me a warning next time!”

He just shrugged and continued, moving the controller to your clit. “Fuck… Gen, i-it’s vibrating too hard— Mmph! Feels so good, hah…” Hearing your moans fueled him to turn you into an even greater mess, pressing it harder to your clit and two of his fingers easily entering your dripping hole.

The sensation felt too overwhelming, your moans echoing in his room, body uncontrollably spasming. It's been far too long since you've felt such intense pleasure, and you haven't even come yet! Your legs would've closed together if it weren't for his wide figure, leaving you with no choice but to grab on one of his arms instead, your other hand finding purchase on his futon.

He's so relentless��uncaring of how loud you’ve become, just focused on fucking you with his fingers. He hears you moan his name repeatedly, your head tossing and turning. He feels you getting tighter, a sign of your imminent orgasm.

The gradual, violent shocks from his controller almost rendered your clit numb, one last vibration finally making you gush around his fingers. Your hand tightened its grip on his arm, the hand on his futon covering your mouth as you fell into a silent scream, back arching. Gen mutters a series of curses at the sight of you unraveling before him, fucking you with his fingers throughout your orgasm.

He pulled his fingers out when he heard you whine, aware of how sensitive your hole is. You call him, “Gen. That was… unbelievable.”

“Oh yeah? That better be. But I’m not done with you yet.” he said, a devilish grin adorning his face. “I’ve yet to get a taste of you. Need to clean and drink you up.”

“Wait—!”

He placed his hands at your thighs, lifting them to place them on his broad shoulders. He wasted no time lapping up your juices, the feeling of his tongue making you shudder. His tongue got a taste of your come-slicked hole, moving to swirl it around your clit. This causes you to grip his hair, your other hand pinching your own nipples.

The slurping sounds from your pussy sounded too obscene, him making it known to you that he was definitely having the time of his life devouring you like this. “Gen… too sensitive. But—hah… Wanna come on your tongue, please.”

Good heavens, he wasn't even fingering you, but you can feel your liquid arousal dripping out of you. Gen’s licking on your clit turned your heavy breaths into high pitched moans, the lower half of your body starting to spasm. You felt him wrap his lips around your clit, now sucking it hard, causing you to come even harder than before.

He wiped his mouth at the back of his hand, moving up to slowly kiss you full on in the mouth. Your weakened arms wrapped around his shoulders, welcoming his relaxing gesture.

After a while, he pulled away, a smug grin on his face. “I’m a whole lot better than my gaming controller, aren't I?”

Seriously? Is that why he started this?

You rolled your eyes. “I never said it was better than you. Also, what happened to ‘should've fucked you’? Your dick’s still in your pants, mister.”

You felt his hands slide down your legs, moving it to cross over his back. “Never said we’re done.” He grinded his painfully obvious erection on your drenched pussy, a sign that the night is yet to end.

You silently prayed you’ll be able to walk tomorrow — you have a whole bunch of officers to train, or else you’ll get a week’s worth of scolding from Hasegawa!

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Five-Point Star (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Bodyguard/Assassin!Chan x Mercenary!F.Reader Themes: Smut | bit of Fluff | Angst | Strangers to lovers to enemies but lovers? (i don’t even know how to categorise this one) Word Count: ~6k | AO3 Synopsis: With a career like yours, you knew you shouldn’t let yourself fall in love. But honestly, in retrospect, there was no way you wouldn’t have fallen in love with Chris. After meeting him, you couldn’t help but hope that he’d be the last person you fell this deeply for–maybe foolishly so… Warnings: pet names · cold weapons · firearms · questionable morals · graphic depictions of violence · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) · open ending.

Author’s Note: as soon as i watched the 5-STAR trailer my creative juices started flowing, and i set camp in my google docs until this piece was born. please don’t hesitate to let me know if i missed any warnings… this one’s a bit sad (or, at least, it made me sad). i apologise in advance. thanks once again to @straylightdream and @cursed-mars-bars for reading this and letting me know it didn’t suck💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Part 1 (you're here!) | Part 2 >

Smut Warnings: unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · finger sucking · some praising, of course · oral [F&M Rec] · rimming [F.Rec] · nipple play · creampie · overstimulation · multiple orgasms

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

In your line of work, it was hard to have any kind of interpersonal relationships. Having either platonic or romantic connections posed a risk, not only to you, but also to the others involved. 

Even then, you were a firm believer that, as long as no one knew your identity while you were ‘on the clock’, was enough for you to keep at least a handful of people close to you. You had a few close friends, some with a similar profession to yours, some just office or retail workers that had no idea what you did for a living. What you didn’t have, though, was a romantic partner.

It was tough to keep a relationship going when you couldn’t tell them what you did to bring food to the table. You’d always dance around the topic fairly easily, but, eventually, the situation would become unsustainable, and either you or the other person decided to break things off.

You’d been single for a while now–a long, long while–and you honestly had no active desire to find yourself a romantic companion. That was…until you met Chris.

Chris was a friend of a friend of a friend, someone you had seen once or twice at the odd social gathering you attended. He was incredibly handsome, but, most importantly, he was funny, always made you laugh whenever you interacted, and also seemed to have similar interests to yours. 

In a twist of fate–and against your better judgement–you ended up going on a date with him. A date that, surprisingly, ended with you and him tangled in his bedsheets. That night, you discovered that, not only were you compatible with Chris when it came to opinions on the current state of the world, on the theories for the next season of your favourite shows, but also in bed.

It was honestly almost crazy how good he made you feel, how there seemed to be sparks flying in the air whenever your bodies touched in any way, and, not to throw roses on your own garden, but you were confident that you made him feel good, too. So much so, the next morning, when you had to leave and he’d kissed the oxygen out of your lungs before dropping the most adorable ‘You’ll call me back, right?’ you knew you had no escape, that there was no way you’d pass up this opportunity.

Five months down the line and you already had a Christopher-shaped hole in your heart. You knew it was stupid, that it was dangerous, but you just couldn’t help it. Not when he was quite possibly the best romantic partner you’d ever had–to be fair, the bar was already quite low, but he still managed to jump ten metres over it.

In any relationship you’d ever had you always avoided the topic of work, not only yours, but the other person’s, too. If you avoided asking about their job, maybe they wouldn’t ask about yours, that was your reasoning. However, you’d discovered that people loved to talk about their jobs, that some people even made them their one and only topic of conversation, which was incredibly inconvenient.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t talk about work at all. Not his, nor yours. You had no idea what he did for a living, all you could infer was that it paid enough for him to live comfortably in his cosy flat. You honestly didn’t care, he could keep that information to himself as long as you could keep yours as well.

What you did for a living was probably not the most morally right career path, but it was your family trade. You’d been trained for it since you were very young, so it was honestly a no brainer for you. Some people called it a gun for hire, some called it being a mercenary, you, personally, didn’t particularly feel like calling it anything at all.

People hired you whenever they needed someone kidnapped, tortured, or killed. And, although you had killed for your job before, you almost always tried to turn those offers down. Clean-up was messy, and even if you hardly had any empathy for your targets, killing them always made you feel a bit uneasy.

Two nights ago you were called in for a job, the kidnapping of the eldest son of the Kim family that ruled the capital city. Seungmin, his name was. Based on the investigation you’d done he was younger than you, a bit rowdy, and an apparent oddball. He, very inconveniently for you, also had a handful of very skilled bodyguards protecting him at all times.

You couldn’t find any records of those bodyguards of his, only that they called themselves the Five-Point Stars, and that they were good at what they did. Regardless, you had a lot of confidence in your own abilities. After all, never once had you lost a fight, nor been unable to finish one of your jobs–although you’d been close to being killed sometimes, you’d admit.

As soon as you woke up, you started to recount the plan you had put together for your mission tonight.

After wiretapping his personal tailor’s phone, you heard him tell someone how he had prepared Seungmin’s suit for the night. You knew Seungmin was going to attend a screening of a new movie that was financed by his father. It’d be dark, crowded, and the perfect setting for you to sneak in, get him unconscious, take him out of there, and hopefully outsmart his bodyguards.

A particularly loud snore next to you snapped you out of your focus, and you turned around to find Chris on his back, with an arm over his eyes and his mouth slightly open. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and, for a moment, even if just for this morning, you decided you wanted to enjoy being just a regular civilian instead of a trained assassin.

“Baby…” You reached for Chris’ shoulder to lightly shake him awake. “Baby, wake up”.

Chris’ whole body tensed. His hand flew to catch yours that was shaking him awake, and he held it in a tight grip. Throughout your relationship you’d discovered that Chris had incredibly quick reflexes, and a very intense fight or flight response, so his sudden movement didn’t faze you in the slightest. “W–what?”

“You were about to choke, baby. You need to move”, throughout your relationship, you’d also learnt that Chris suffered from a sleeping disorder. You found out about it the first time he woke you up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

Poor thing, he’d been so embarrassed while he told you about it, but you were quick to reassure him that you didn’t mind, if anything, it only made you worry about him.

Because that was how important Chris was to you. Important enough for you to care about his sleeping habits, important enough that he warmed your cold heart.

So now, any time you were awake and you heard him snore particularly loudly, you woke him up before he could choke on his spit.

“Ah… Thank you, sweetheart”, he mumbled, clearly still half asleep. 

Chris turned to his side, scooting closer to you and pulling you into his arms. You couldn’t help the small giggle that left your lips as soon as your head was tucked under his chin, just like he seemed to not be able to contain his at all, either. 

The feeling of his bare skin against yours was incredibly comforting, his warmth seeped into you, reaching areas deep within your heart that no one else ever had before.

As you laid there in his arms, as you heard his heartbeat under your ear, and as you felt the minute rumbles of his snoring resume, you realised this was probably the happiest you’d ever been with a partner, and you hoped that your relationship with Chris would be the last one you ever had.

Getting into the movie screening was easy. Your specialty was sneaking around undetected, you’d learnt to walk without making a sound–no sound from your feet hitting the ground, nor your breath going in and out of your lungs, nor your clothes moving with the wind…

You’d also heard from Seungmin’s tailor–whose name was apparently Hyunjin–that the Kims had a special, private room in this particular cinema, so that was likely where the eldest son of the family would be.

Finding this room was the hard part. It wasn’t in any of the blueprints of the building, so you spent a good hour surveying the place, until you finally saw a waiter coming out from what seemed to be a simple wall.

Tightening the hood over your head, making sure the lower part of your face was covered properly by your kerchief, you made your way to that wall to inspect it closely. There was a tile on the wall that was shaped differently than the others. It was barely perceptible, just a tad smaller than the ones around it, so you pressed on it, and immediately you were able to push what you now knew was a door camouflaged as part of the wall.

As soon as you stepped into the room, you saw Seungmin, sitting on what looked to be a very comfortable armchair, watching the movie from behind the glass that kept this area hidden from the rest of the auditorium. 

Slowly, you approached him, careful to not make a single sound as you unclipped the rope you had attached to your belt. Before you could use it, though, you felt a slight disturbance in the air around you, and every single one of your senses zeroed in on the direction of it.

In a second, you ducked, just barely missing the bat that had been swung your way.

“Chan!” You heard Seungmin scream, but you didn’t dare turn to look at him, not when his bodyguard had all his attention on you.

It was just one man. You could barely make out the features of his face, not only because it was dark, but also because he had a mask covering the lower half of his face, and because he was moving so fast you could hardly take in anything else.

The man, Chan, based on the name Seungmin had screamed, certainly put up a good fight. Any blow you sent his way he blocked without much difficulty, just like you did his. It was a pretty on par encounter, but you were running out of time. The longer you stayed there, the more time you were giving them to get back-up, so you reasoned the wisest choice was to retreat. This mission was getting way too dangerous, and if they captured you it’d all be over.

Chan wasn’t giving up, though, and he was making it incredibly hard for you to make your escape. You managed to kick him in the chest, but aside from a grunt of discomfort he didn’t relent, and, with a swing of his bat, he was able to land a hit on your arm.

It was painful, yes, but you could hardly feel it with the adrenaline pumping through your system. Taking a knife from their designated place on your bodice, you threw it in Chan’s direction. It didn’t stab him, but it did manage to cut one side of his mask, enough to distract him so you could make your escape.

By the time you were out of the cinema the place was full of guards, so you knew your night was over.

It didn’t matter. 

You hadn’t lost. You were just experiencing a set-back.

“Missed you so much, gorgeous”, Chris mumbled between kisses, further pressing you against the back of your front door.

“Missed you, too”, was all you mumbled back, unable to keep your lips away from his for too long.

You hadn’t seen Chris for seven whole days. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to, you were honestly desperate to see him, but once you were back at your place after your failed attempt to kidnap Seungmin you realised how hurt your body was.

That guy Chan had certainly done a number on you, and the only thing that kept you from bursting into flames by the rage you felt, was the fact that you were sure you’d done a number on him, too.

Your bruises had now just started to fade, so you figured they were now normal-looking enough that your boyfriend wouldn’t think much about them. 

You were supposed to go out for dinner tonight, but as soon as Chris was at your doorstep, as soon as his lips were on yours, you both quickly realised you didn’t want to go for dinner anymore. How could you, when the taste of each other was much better than any meal you could possibly have?

“Come here”, Chris pulled himself away from you, taking a hold of your hand and tugging you towards the sofa. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about those nudes you sent me”.

You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face. Of course he couldn’t stop thinking about the pictures you sent him. That was their entire purpose, after all. They were simple, really, but clearly enough to rile him up. It was just you riding one of your favourite dildos, with your ass on full display for him to ogle.

Chris pushed you to the sofa. As soon as you were seated he dropped to his knees, and spread you open for him. Wearing a skirt to your date was certainly the wisest choice you made tonight.

“Maybe I should send you a video next time. I’ll ride it just like I ride you”, you said, just as you lifted your hips enough for him to pull your underwear down your legs.

“Fuck, you spoil me too much”, was the last thing to come out of Chris’ mouth before he dived between your legs. His lips found your clit with expert ease, gently sucking on it.

Your entire body came alight, a moan of his name escaped your mouth, and you brought a hand to his head so you could tug on his curls, just how you knew he liked it. “So fucking good with your mouth, baby, fuck…”

Chris simply hummed in response, sending vibrations through your body, making you whine.

With his hands on the back of your thighs, he pushed your legs further towards your chest, getting better access to your centre. Chris had very quickly learnt his way around your body, and he’d even shown you new ways in which you could feel good, ways you’d never even imagined you’d get to experience.

His tongue changed focus, from your clit to your entrance, diligently licking your folds, and he groaned at the taste of you on his tongue once he pushed it within your walls. He stayed there for a while, occasionally coming back up to lick and suck on your clit only to come back down to slurp you up. Until he finally moved further down so he could lick the tender skin of your ass, all while he stimulated your clit with his fingers, making you shiver. 

Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach, and the most pathetic whine left your mouth as soon as he started to lave at your skin. You would’ve never thought how good this could feel, never let a partner come anywhere near your ass, but one night, after drinking one too many beers, the topic of things you would’ve liked to try in bed came up. 

You could still remember the look on Chris’ face when he confidently said ‘I’d really like to eat your ass. Like, would love to, honestly’. And maybe it’d been the fact that you were a bit tipsy, or the fact that he was so utterly unashamed when he said it, or maybe even the fact that you trusted Chris like you’d never trusted anyone else before, but you weren’t entirely displeased with the idea… So you gave it a try, and now you couldn’t even fathom getting head if you didn’t feel his tongue on your ass at least once.

Without detaching his mouth from your sensitive skin, he brought two fingers to your mouth, and you wasted no time on wrapping your lips around them, sucking on them, licking them. You couldn’t help but moan around his digits, and Chris simply gave you a satisfied hum in response.

He let you enjoy the feeling of his fingers in your mouth for a while, until they were thoroughly coated in your saliva. As soon as he removed them from between your lips, he brought them to your entrance and pushed them into you, to the last knuckle. “C’mon, baby. Show me your pretty tits. Hm?”

You just nodded in response, unable to form a sentence with the now relentless pace of his fingers continuously hitting the most sensitive areas within your walls. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned your blouse and squeezed your breasts over the fabric of your lace bralette before you pulled them out of the cups.

“Shit, look at you… Touch them, baby. Just how you like it”.

So you complied, lightly dragging your fingers over your now stiff nipples, sending tiny shocks of pleasure up and down your spine with the motion. The stimulation you were giving to your chest, Chris’ fingers going in and out of your cunt, and the dirty words coming out of his mouth brought you close to the edge, and you started to feel incredibly desperate for your relief.

“Chris, baby…” You whined as Chris sped up his motions, as you rolled your nipples between your fingers.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Chris’ voice was so soft, a complete contrast to the brutal pace of his fingers.

“Want your–Your mouth”, you could barely hold eye contact anymore, seeing the desire in his eyes brought heat to your cheeks. It was always the same when he found himself between your legs, he always looked at you like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and it made you feel incredibly wanted. 

“Hmm… You sure that’s what you want?”

You nodded, a bit frantically, you’d admit. “Want your mouth to…make me come, please, love–”

You knew that the second the word ‘please’ left your mouth you’d get exactly what you asked for, and you barely registered the broken moan that flew past your lips as soon as his lips attached to your clit once again.

Chris’ movements didn’t relent until you were coming. They didn’t even relent while you were coming. He kept sucking on your clit, fucking you open with his fingers, turning you into a whimpering mess as he pushed you past the brink of overstimulation, and making you fall face first into a consecutive high.

When he was done with you, you were still trembling, panting, and he finally left his place on the floor to sit next to you on the sofa and pull you into his chest so he could softly caress your hair, mumbling sweet words of encouragement. ‘Mmm… Such a good girl, aren’t you, love? So good to me. You did well…’

You just hummed, burying your face in the crook of his neck to leisurely press kisses on his skin. 

As soon as you regained some of your composure, you kissed him. You kissed him with such want one would’ve thought he hadn’t just made you feel like you’d gone to the moon and back four times. You quickly undid his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and tugged them and his underwear down just enough to let his length free of its confinements.

In no time, you had straddled him and sunk yourself on his cock, eliciting a shared sigh of relief.

You sneaked a hand under his shirt just as you leaned in to kiss him again. His abdomen tensed and relaxed while you slowly traced every muscle with your fingertips, your soft caresses eliciting content sighs to fall from his lips and get lost in your mouth. Taking a hold of the hem of his shirt, you tried to get it off of his frame, but Chris shook his head, pulling your hands away and mumbling a “no time for that… God, bun, move…”

Chris held your ass tightly in his hands as you bounced on him. His mouth attached to your chest, sucking your nipples into his mouth so he could lick them, nibble on them. Under the unfaltering pace of your hips, it only took a handful of minutes to turn him into a moaning, whining mess.

“Fuck, baby… If you don’t slow down, I’ll blow”, Chris nuzzled his face on your chest, and you brought your hands to the back of his head, further pushing him into your cleavage.

“Good”, was all you told him, admittedly a bit breathless. “Need you to fill me up, Chris, baby… Need it so bad…”

Chris swore under his breath, and his hold on your buttocks tightened. It wasn’t long until you got exactly what you wanted. With a moan of your name, your boyfriend pumped you full of his release, making you whine at the warmth of his cum reaching deep inside you.

You didn’t stop moving, though.

Even if your thighs were burning, you kept bouncing on his cock, until his groans of relief turned into desperate whines, until he was whimpering against your chest and digging his short nails on the supple flesh of your buttcheeks.

“P–please…” You heard him whine, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t felt accomplished by the sound. That was when you took pity on him, finally sitting down fully on his lap and stopping your movements.

Chris groaned, exhaling all that air he’d been holding in while you overstimulated him. He threw his head back to rest it on the backrest of the sofa, looking eighty shades of fucked out of his mind. He was breathing heavily–as were you–and he could barely keep his eyes open, but he still let out an incredulous laugh, giving you one of his blinding smiles, making you smile in return.

Cupping your cheeks, he pulled you down for a kiss before he whispered, “I fucking love you”.

And once he said it, you finally let yourself voice those thoughts that had been roaming your mind for a while now, just before you leaned in for another kiss. “I love you, baby”.

By the time you had both thoroughly enjoyed one another, you were too tired to leave your place. So you ordered takeout, got into your comfiest pyjamas, and decided to have your dinner date in the warmth of your home while watching your favourite show together.

Although, to be fair, you didn’t get very far into the show. With your now full stomachs, Chris pulled you into his arms while you both laid on the sofa, softly caressing your hair as he sang to you, inadvertently lulling you to sleep.

This Chan guy was seriously testing your patience. 

Every time you tried to get to the Kim kid he’d always be there, he’d always manage to get you to back off. It was starting to hurt your pride, and, even if you were one to avoid killing, you started to genuinely consider taking his life just so he could stop being a nuance.

You’d had three other failed attempts at your task since that fiasco in the cinema, so tonight would hopefully be the day you succeeded. Seungmin was to attend a piano concert at one of the classic theatres his family owned, meaning he’d once again be in a dark, crowded place. There was no hidden room as far as you could tell from your surveillance earlier this week, so that gave you some semblance of peace.

You weren’t sure if it was the fact that this particular job was taking longer than usual to get it over with, or if it was the fact that you kept being forced to retreat by that one bodyguard of Seungmin’s time and time again, but lately you’d been incredibly frustrated, and it seemed like the only way to get that frustration out of your system was to get it fucked out of you. Luckily, even if your boyfriend didn’t know what was going on, he had been giving you exactly what you needed and more any time you asked for it.

The droplets falling down Chris’ pecs and his toned stomach added a delightful shine to his physique, yet you could hardly focus on any of it. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his cock on your tongue, heavy and warm, the delicious sounds coming out of his mouth and bouncing off of his shower’s walls as you took him in and out of your throat, and the dark, lustful, but somehow still loving look in his eyes. 

“Shit… You always tell me how good I am with my mouth… But what about you, baby, huh?” Chris leaned his head back on the tiles, holding your head in place so he could start slowly thrusting into your mouth, making you moan.

You just couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him to fuck you dumb, you needed to further disconnect your mind from reality outside of these walls. So, with a tight grip on the base of his cock, you pulled your mouth off of Chris and started pumping him in your hand, looking him right in the eyes.

“Fuck me”.

Chris just laughed as soon as the words were out of your mouth. He swiftly helped you to your feet so he could turn you around and push your chest against the cold tile wall. “Someone woke up a bit needy today. Hm?”

“And what if I–Fuck…” You completely forgot where your sentence was going as soon as you felt your boyfriend push himself into you, stretching you open just so perfectly all you could do was rest your forehead against the wall when he started to move.

“Maybe you should move in…” Chris attached his lips to your shoulder, kissing and sucking on your skin as his hand found its way towards your front, right between your legs to diligently rub that sweet bud at the apex of your thighs. The mix of his motions between your legs, of the words he mumbled against your skin, and the obscene sound of your wet skin colliding time and time again was steadily clouding your reason, enough to genuinely consider what he was offering. “If you did, we could do this every day, sweetheart…”

“Maybe I should…” You were certainly delirious, there was no way you could live with another person while trying to keep your trade a secret. But the longer you stayed in that shower, relishing the company and precise motions of your boyfriend, the more you wanted to believe it was possible.

Even after he’d coaxed a mind-numbing orgasm out of you, after he’d stuffed you full of his cum, and after he’d helped you dry your hair with the hairdryer he kept in one of the drawers of his bathroom, when you both were getting dressed in his bedroom, you desperately wanted to believe it was possible to have a normal life. Maybe you should start considering retirement… But would you be able to live a civilian life without the thrill of your job? You weren’t too sure. For Chris, though, you might try…

“Come here, bun”, Chris suddenly held your waist and dropped to his bed, bringing you down with him. All you did was laugh, scrambling to find a comfortable position on top of him so you could kiss him.

He was really giggly today, and the sound warmed you up. You dragged your fingers over his still damp curls as you peppered his face with kisses, chuckling with mirth and an immense amount of love for this man that had managed to make you feel a bit normal again. 

“Pretty?” Chris tried to get your attention. You just hummed in response to let him know you were listening, but you didn’t stop pressing kisses on his cheek.

With his hands on your waist, he tried to get you to look at him. “Listen, baby. There’s…there’s something I’d like to tell you…”

You finally pulled yourself away a bit, enough to look him in the eyes. He looked incredibly serious, more than you had ever seen him over the course of your relationship, and it gave you pause.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, the obnoxious ringtone of his phone interrupted him. With a roll of his eyes and an annoyed sigh, he gently pushed you off of him, muttering a ‘Gimme a sec, gotta take this…’

You watched Chris leave the bedroom entirely before you stood up from his bed and continued getting dressed. You could hear your boyfriend’s hushed voice coming from the living room, but you couldn’t make out a single word. Maybe it was for the best, you honestly didn’t like to pry on his private conversations. After all, you’d hate it if he tried to eavesdrop on yours, all things considered.

By the time he was back you had already gotten yourself into a fresh set of clothes. There was a frown on his face, but it quickly disappeared the moment he spotted you by his mirror.

Standing behind you, he placed his hands on your belly, pulling you back towards his chest as he pressed kisses on your neck. You just hummed, watching him through the mirror and melting in his hold. 

“Babe”, you mumbled, getting him to open his eyes and look at you through the mirror. He rested his chin on your shoulder, intently listening to you. “What’d you want to tell me?”

Chris took a deep breath, pulling himself away from you to take a hold of your hips once you turned around and looped your arms around his neck. “It’s nothing urgent. Say… What if we go on a little vacation to the coast this weekend?”

“Mmm… A little escapade?” You chuckled, and Chris hummed in response, cupping your cheek with one hand to pull you in for a kiss.

If everything went well tonight, you’d more than appreciate some time to wind down from the entire thing, and spending the entire weekend relaxing, barely even clothed, listening to the waves crashing against the breakwater with Chris sounded like absolute heaven. It’d be like your own little celebration for your win over that insufferable guard dog of Seungmin’s.

“Sounds like a great idea, baby”, you told your boyfriend as soon as his lips detached from yours, smiling brightly at him.

The sound of the piano could be heard perfectly even outside of the theatre. You didn’t know the name of the piece, but it was clear that it was being played by expert hands. Even if you were mostly impassive whenever you fell into your…professional mode, you were still a bit on edge after months of having your plans ruined by Chan, so the melody floating in the air certainly helped soothe you a bit.

The corridors to the main hall were empty, completely quiet save for the sound of the piano bouncing off of the walls. The old construction was a bit difficult to navigate, but you’d gotten well acquainted with the place throughout the past week, so you found your way to the concert hall with ease.

Everything was dark, save for the lights shining on the stage, illuminating the silhouette of the musician sitting on one of the three pianos that’d been set on the podium. 

Something felt odd, though.

In an instant, you noticed the emptiness in the hall. The music stopped, replaced by a loud bang and the sound of the bullet hitting the wall, right where your head had been just seconds before your instincts kicked in and you moved away.

It was a trap.

You’d stupidly let them lure you in here, where Seungmin was, very clearly, not even present.

No matter. You might not get your target tonight, but you could still get your peace back.

Chan kept firing at you from the stage, and you continued to expertly dodge his bullets as you swiftly got closer to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear your father’s voice from back when he was training you, telling you that chasing after someone that wasn’t the one you’d been hired to attack was foolish, that it’d put you at risk. You didn’t care, this was personal now.

Taking one of the knives from your bodice, you threw it in Chan’s direction, just barely missing his form when he ducked out of the way. It felt like it lasted for a long time, you throwing knives at him, and him shooting at you, until you made it to the stage and he had no option but to physically fight you.

He was incredibly agile, but so were you. Especially after having fought him so many times. You’d picked up his tells, how he shifted his weight on his heel before he threw a punch, how he moved slightly to the left when he kicked, so it’d gotten easier to counterattack each and every single one of his moves.

Chan was good at what he did… But you were better.

With a kick to his knee and a push on his chest, you managed to send him to the floor and pin him under you. He tried to move, but you swiftly pressed one of your knives to his neck, effectively stopping his movements.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of you staring down at him, and a moment of him staring up at you.

This was the first time you’d actually gotten to see his face this clearly. There was usually barely any illumination whenever you’d fought before, and both of your quick movements made it easy to miss the details on the exposed areas of your faces. His straight hair pushed off of his forehead–save for one single piece that seemed to always be out of place–gave you plenty of room to see the blue contact lenses he wore. You couldn’t help but wonder if those were simply for aesthetic purposes, or if they held any sort of special tech quality to them–he worked for the Kims, after all.

There was something eerily familiar in the way his eyebrows furrowed, in his eyes, even with the obviously fake blue colour. Whether you were going to kill him or not, you suddenly felt an intense need to see his face. All of it. So, with your free hand, you hooked your finger on the side of his mask so you could pull it off.

For a split second, you couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes were playing a trick on you. Despite the straight hair and the blue contacts, the curve of his lips and the shape of his nose were so distinct there was just no way this man could be anyone else.

You tried to never speak while on the clock. After all, your voice might be a very good indicator of your identity. It might’ve been the shock of seeing such a familiar face, but you really couldn’t help the name from coming out of your mouth, as a barely audible whisper. “…Chris?”

Confusion crossed the features of the man under you. His eyes jumped all over your face–or what could be seen of it, at least. His angry frown turned into a look of shock, mixed with some concern, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob in your peripheral vision when he swallowed, almost audibly.

You still had the knife pressed to his neck, but you were honestly unable to move at all. So much so you didn’t even flinch when he slowly started to move himself.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the black kerchief that covered the lower half of your face. You didn’t stop him, you just let him tug it down to your neck and reveal your face to him.

The sound of your name, coming out as a breathless whisper out of his mouth hurt more than any hit you’d received throughout the past handful of months.

“What the…fuck”, the hurt tone in his voice broke your heart, and you could feel the lump form in your throat. “All this time…?”

“I had no idea”, you couldn’t help the tremble in your voice, and you weren’t sure if you hated yourself for being so vulnerable in front of the enemy. But then again, he wasn’t only an enemy, he was also the man you’d fallen madly in love with.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to get to Seungmin?” His voice trembled, yet neither of you dared to move further.

“I was hired to do it”, you replied simply.

“By whom?”

“I won’t tell you… I…can’t”, you could feel them. The treacherous tears that pricked your eyes… Crying in front of the enemy was unheard of, but you supposed these weren’t normal circumstances.

Chris swallowed again, and you could see tears of his own well in his eyes. “So…what now, bun?”

The sound of the pet name coming out of his mouth fully obliterated the remaining pieces of your heart, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling anymore. So you didn’t. “I–I don’t know…”

“You should kill me”, Chris said, very confidently, without any semblance of doubt in his voice. And even though your grip on the knife tightened, you didn’t move it, you just shook your head in response, trying to contain the sob that threatened to come out of your mouth.

“You should”, he repeated after a few moments of silence. “I’ve done…many horrible things in my life. I’ve killed people, tortured people… I’ve done it proudly, too”, Chris brought a hand to your wrist, holding it gently, but firmly. “I’ve made peace with all that a long, long time ago… But knowing I’ve spent months hurting the woman I love is something I can’t live with…”

“You didn’t know”, your hand started to tremble, too, and Chris’ hold on your wrist tightened to keep it steady.

“Doesn’t matter”, finally, tears started to fall from Chris’ eyes, and his voice broke a bit when he spoke to you. “I wanted you dead. Even if I didn’t know, I was trying to kill you”.

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly.

Maybe, if you closed them hard enough, you’d realise this was all a dream, a horrible nightmare you could still wake up from.

“Why don’t you kill me instead?” You mumbled after a while, when you finally opened your eyes. “I, too, was trying to kill the man that I love…”

“I can’t stop protecting Seungmin. I won’t stop. I’m the only thing keeping you from reaching your target, pretty. Look at us…” Chris’ thumb softly caressed your wrist, right on the sliver of skin your gloves exposed. “Look at our positions. You know you already won”.

You shook your head again, and Chris pushed on your wrist, further digging the blade into his skin as he mumbled, “Do it…”

He was right, you had the upper hand. Logically, it made sense for you to kill him, but there was no way you would. What a selfish thing for him to ask… Did he think getting to Seungmin was more important than his own life? That you’d be fine just…taking it?

Yanking your wrist out of his grip, you threw your knife to the side, as far away from you as possible. Chris just looked at you, confused, hurt, and you just couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes. In an instant, you were standing, finally getting off of him.

“Baby…” You mumbled, trying to steady the sound of your voice. You turned your back to him, unable to look at him any longer. “I’m sorry… I don’t think I’ll make it to our vacation this weekend”.

With that, you started walking, trying to get as far away from that stage as possible.

The last thing you heard before you left the theatre altogether was the cacophony of sounds produced by what you knew to be the erratic smashing of piano keys, a complete contrast to the soothing melody you’d been listening to when you came in here… That soothing melody that you now knew was being played by Chan, by Chris, by your biggest rival who turned out to also be the love of your life.

As you left, with tears in your eyes, with your heart shattered in your chest, you realised that this was the first time you’d truly lost. There had been no room for you to win since the very beginning.

Part 1 (you're here!) | Part 2 >

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General Masterlist

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day twelve ⛧ threesome

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x GN!Reader

After you, Billy, and Stu's grand plan goes as expected, a little celebration ensues.

warnings:  smut, threesome, gender neutral reader, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough oral sex (m receiving) cum eating

word count: 643

author's note: hello hello so sorry this is like, a week late lol life has been beating the fuck out of me lately and I've been busy and exhausted and stressed. lots of stuff to get caught up on like classwork, but also kinktober!! stay tuned!! thanks for any feedback (:

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀ��, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

It was a good plan, a great plan, even. And it worked out in the end without a hitch. 

You, Billy, and Stu successfully fulfilled your plan to get your revenge against Sidney Prescott, and now you’re celebrating in Stu’s bedroom. The three of you were covered in blood and downing pounds and pounds of liquor, and one of you (you can’t recall who anymore) got the bright idea to play truth or dare. Might as well air out your dirty laundry now that the three of you are all connected by blood. The game turned frisky quickly when you dared Billy to kiss Stu. After Billy had yet to pull away, you decided to get in on the action by attacking Stu’s neck with your teeth. And it sort of snowballed from there. Now, you’re sitting on Stu’s lap on the edge of his bed, his cock buried deep inside you, while Billy’s standing in front of you, his cock pounding the back of your throat. Being so full never felt so right. The adrenaline from the earlier murders mixed with the alcohol is doing wonders for your brain, as well as the untapped pleasure you’re experiencing from both ends of your body. 

“Taking my cock like such a good little slut,” Billy praises as he fucks your face, his hands gripping the sides of your head for leverage. 

Stu bucks his hips into your ass, his tip brushing your cervix with every movement he makes. He doesn’t pull all the way out and slam back in, instead, he keeps you seated and still until he wishes to fuck into you. And when he does, it’s hard and sudden. Stu decides to change his mind and begins to lift you by your hips so you pull off his cock almost all the way before he guides you back down. Your ass slaps against his thighs as he gains a rhythm for you, your body limp and allowing Stu and Billy to do whatever they want to it. 

“You’re so tight, Jesus,” Stu curses as your hole clenches around him.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Stu then starts bobbing your head back and forth along Billy’s cock. Billy lets go of your head and smirks as he watches Stu shove your face forward until you gag. You open your mouth as far as your jaw will allow, letting Stu force you to gag on Billy, his length mercilessly fucking your throat rapidly. You moan around him, gagging and drooling pitifully. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Billy grits his teeth, his cock twitching as he watches Stu fuck in and out of your tight entrance flawlessly.

“Can you swallow my cum for me, sweetheart? Be a good little slut? Hmm?” Billy grabs your jaw, pressing his fingers into it as he stares directly into your eyes.

You nod the best you can as he snaps his hips into your face, chasing his orgasm. Stu watches as Billy comes undone in your throat and on your tongue, the tip of his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you and sending him to his own release. Swallowing Billy’s cum, your release follows soon after, the sensation of being filled with cum and cock sending you over the edge. You continue to bounce on Stu and suck off Billy, milking them of everything they have to offer as you ride out your high. 

They both pull out of you, and you whimper at the loss of fullness. Stu gently drags you onto the bed to lie down with him, and Billy crawls next to you under the sheets. There’s just enough room for all three of you in Stu’s full-size bed. There, you spend the rest of the night giggling about what you just did and planning the next person or people to torment in your Ghostface costumes.

taglist:

@ins0mniac-whack @mypoisonedvine @berlyrecords @scribbuluswrites @vampireluck @kelloggs @whiispii @generalvoidthing @mg-i-have-issues @banshailey @ilikefictionalmen @sweatymuffinweasellamp @pheonist @your-platonic-gay-lover @doestalker @darthannie @julesmendoza890 @im-a-slut-for-this-man2 @cancelledkaley @slashersluttt @alishajade @hellocals @omens-in-reverse @spacerobe @littlebambieeyes444 @chuckybitch1988 @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @langdons-slut @pplanetoparis @straykids-gives-me-life @muffinlove7 @detectiveapparatiagreen @jessica987 @justafangirl @amanda08319 @works-of-fanfiction @topperscumslut @cranesbathtowel @butlersluvbot @nela-cutie @straykids-gives-me-life @ineedmyaccountback @itsbebeyyy @blankbedroom @purejasmine @mrsbutler99 @tiredkitten @ab4eva @kai-wifey

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello! I binged a lot of your Yautja fics over the last couple days, and I love Vic and Uihoy. However I've had an angst thought in my head about one day, Vic would be alone. The human reader has a much shorter lifespan, and Uihoy is much older. They'd both lose the reader first, but then Vic would lose Uihoy one day too. Despite him teasing Uihoy about his age, maybe something happens that reminds Vic that both of his partners will one day leave him. How does he react in this scenario???

Till All Are One

Character: Vic'tao (Male) x GN!Reader x Uihoy (Male)

Word Count: 3062

Summary: Throughout the years, you've given them the best of memories and new scars. Vic'tao never expected it to be so sudden. He doesn't know how to reel it in after everything he's been through.

Author Note: Okay... this actually made me cry. I gave this idea thoughts before in the past but never dwelled on it. BECAUSE they'll always have each other!

Masterlist

Ao3

Excitement vibrated through his blood. Each block and strike only caused his energy to spike higher and higher. The hunt always called to him. It would always call to a hunter.

A snarl exploded through his throat when his claws raked through skin and flesh. The beast gave a hearty cry and stumbled. It went head over end and slammed its back into the ground. A long divot in the ground was created when it slid a few feet. Then, it scrambled to get back onto its feet. The off yellow Yautja was on it before it could.

Two sharp blades rammed straight into soft tissue. A piercing roar that rumbled the ground and shook the trees exploded into the air. Vic’tao held on tightly. Black claws refusing to let the trophy escape from his grasp. He doubled down his efforts and skimmed the blades up the beasts furry torso. More black blood stained the leafy ground and himself. Vic’tao bathed in it then was promptly thrown off.

Pain exploded up his back when he slammed sideways into the trunk of a tree. A grunt pushed all the air out of the yellow Yautja’s lung. It left him dazed for a few precious moments. He was able to gain his bearings just to see the barreling form of the beast launching itself through the air. Vic’tao yelped a curse and barely had time to roll to the side.

Claws raked at his exposed flank. His own neon green blood spilling to add to the mixture.

Vic’tao spun around while on his hands and feet and narrowed his bright yellow eyes on it. The creature had its claws lodged into the trunk of a tree he once was pinned to. A smug smirk sprouted to life underneath his biomask. His dah'ktes are retracted back. Vic’tao pulled out his ki'cti-pa and expanded it to its full length.

Right as the beast unlogged its claws. Another curse fell from hunter’s mandibles. Vic’tao is forced back as the prey lunged at him again the moment it was free. An untamed wildness in its horizontal slit eyes. He wanted to claim it as his and hang it above the shared bed back on the ship. A gift he would give to his two mates.

Blood dribbled out of a new cut on his forearm. Immediately, his thoughts are brought back to the present. Dangerous, deadly fangs are aimed at his face. Vic’tao thrusts his ki'cti-pa into the beast’s open maw. It narrowly dodges the hit. The tip slicing at its cheek. It slithers its head to the side and latches onto the combistick in his hand.

The weapon is torn from his grip and crushed between teeth he nearly met. Anger washed over Vic’tao. Red, hot, burned through his veins as the treasured combistick is tossed to the side. His razor sharp dah'ktes slip out of their sheaths, slicing through the air. A deep bellow vibrated through his chest. His sight completely narrowed on the beast. He will kill it. He will skin it. He will take the skull. For Uihoy. For his treasure.

With a roar like howl, Vic’tao sliced through the air. As sharp as the blades on his arm. It didn’t had time to comphred the speed he extruded before its head lolled onto the ground. The body stayed upright, as if trying understand what had happened. Then, it dropped. Black blood soaking into the leaves and dirt ground.

Another bellow shook the very ground he stood on. Victory. Vic’tao’s chest heaved with each deep breath for the nitrogen and oxygen in the air. His eyes wide and snapped to every tiny movement or sound around him. But, he forced himself to ease into a calmer state and looked down at the head at his feet. With a huff, Vic leaned down and lifted it up. This thing nearly killed him. A story he could not wait to tell his mates back at the ship.

Waste couldn’t come to the body. By him lonesome, Vic’tao carved the richest of meat from various areas. The black meat was stored in a bag on his back. Safe and secure. The Yautja departed to let scavengers to take care of the rest he couldn’t carry or use.

By the time he arrived back at the ship, the sun had lowered itself in the sky. Pink and orange danced across the darkening sky. Vic’tao took a moment to look up and find the sight beautiful.

Once in sight of the ship, Vic’tao slowed his pace until coming to a stop. Tension filled the air in way that made his chest constrict. He almost lost his grip on the skull but his muscles tightened up. Vic’tao sprinted through the foliage and scrambled up the ship’s ramp.

All of his senses narrowed down on the strongest of his mates smell. His feet stumbled and nearly sent him flying into a wall. Vic’tao was barely able to catch himself in time to enter the shared bedroom.

In all of Uihoy’s glory, he was knelt down in the oval shape concave bed. The elder’s great head bowed.

The skull dropped at Vic’tao’s side. He took a tentative step forward. Then another. Until stood at the edge of the bed.

Wrapped in softest of furs was the ooman that wormed their way into their lives. Their eyes were closed. No movement. Their chest didn’t rise or fall.

He stumbled into the bed while ripping off his biomask and tossing the damned thing away. “No, no, no,” the hunter whispered and held his hands over your peaceful form. They shook.

A purple hand reached across and carded his fingers through Vic’taos. That brought the younger male’s attention up to his other mate. Tears prickled the corner of Vic’s dull yellow eyes. The life in them gone the moment yours left.

“Thi-this can’t be!” Words that further broke the elder’s heart. His fingers clenched Vic’s hand harder. “We… we had time.” There was plenty of time to spend their lives together. It felt like yesterday when they first met. This ooman that had carved their own space. Vic’tao… he wanted to go out and kill every creature he could lay his eyes on. Take all the lives. Because the love of his life was gone.

Even if he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Ooman’s were fragile.

“Vic…” Uihoy trailed off at first. He didn’t know what to say in a moment like this. Your health had suddenly dipped without a moment’s notice. No amount of help from their advanced medicine would’ve saved you. Your suffering would’ve been prolonged. Uihoy couldn’t bear to see that, even if it meant for you to see Vic one last time. Your cries…

“I’m sorry. You… I couldn’t get ahold of you. They had suddenly just-“ Paya, it was difficult to get the words out. A male of great words couldn���t even tell his mate what happened. “Their health had taken a turn. It was sudden. I believe it was… organ failure. There was nothing I could do.”

Uihoy felt useless. With everything that Yautjas had, to save a ooman in a terrible moment wasn’t possible. The medicine they possess could do nothing. He had to watch their mate writhe and scream in pain until he put them out of their misery. Quality of life.

Immediately, Vic’tao’s head snapped over to the biomask discarded haphazardly to the side. His feet stomped across the metal floors. He swiped the metal off of the ground and forced it onto his face. With practice ease, he maneuvered to the incoming messages page.

Nothing.

A growl sounded from his throat. He zoomed into the settings. His heart dropped onto the floor. The notifications had been silenced. For the hunt. Automatically.

The mask was torn from his face and chucked into the nearest wall. It bounced off with a screech of metal and slide along the floors.  Vic’tao turned and slammed his fist into said wall. A sizable dent left in his wake. But, Vic’tao didn’t care. He wanted to tear apart everything in his path. How could… how could he let this happen? He would’ve abandoned the hunt at a moment’s notice he knew.

All he has left was when you wished him luck and to bring home a good trophy.

He brought home a trophy. But you weren’t able to see it.

Tears dripped down and wettened the floor. The aches and pains in his body reactivated, tearing open wounds. The blood stained the floor alongside salty tears.

Warm, coarse hands touched at Vic’tao’s tense shoulders. He jerked at the feeling of another then let the muscles go lax. Vic’tao’s head hung, eyes staring blankly at the metal floors. Blue-grey tresses curtained around him. It took every single ounce of will left over inside of him not to collapse into his mate’s arms and sob.

The purple Yautja guided him around to face him. A gentle hand tucked underneath Vic’tao’s jaw and picked up his head slightly. Just enough to see those dull eyes. A sight that broke Uihoy’s heart.

“Vic-“ Uihoy started.

“Don’t! I failed. I failed them. I failed you. I should’ve known. I should’ve sensed it,” Vic’tao put himself down and ripped away from Uihoy’s soft touches. Said male whimpered and let his arms fall to his sides. “I should’ve never left to go on that hunt!” You had wanted the meat and begged Vic’tao with those sweet eyes of yours to get it.

If only.

A tense quietness entered the air. Orange eyes stared at yellow and blue scales. Uihoy sighed and stepped back up to his mate. His thick arms encased Vic’tao’s waist. The male tensed up at first then turned around. His own arms latched onto Uihoy like a life line. He was all that Vic’tao had left in this word.

A tough exterior to the outside world. Once you break through, he’s one of the most loyal, softest, strongest people you’ll ever meet. Even after his heart is shattered by death.

.

Throughout the years, it did become easier. That strain on his heart weakened slowly but surely. Don’t get him wrong, he still is extremely heartbroken with their little mate’s passing. It still is heavy on his heart. But… he learned to live with it. That’s what made life just slightly easier. He kept you close. The trinkets you’ve created for them decorated them or their ship.

Held close to their hearts.

They had found a space among the planet you had passed on. Small, shrouded, but they learned when night fell. The spot lit up with rocks that reacted with the three moons above. Like its own stars.

Your body had been laid to rest and covered in a hole no creature would get to. The weapon you had created for him that was destroyed was placed as the marker. The one item he departed without. Everything else, despite it breaking, he kept it in the workshop area. Vic’tao never tried to fix them. They were left to their original state. The items you created with your bare hands.

Like no other day, both Yautjas find themselves deep within the brush. The breeze flushing into their face. Downward from their prey. Prey that could feed them for a while. A hunt for survival rather than another trophy to add to the wall.

Each Yautja adorned in their armor, biomask, and weapons glanced at each other. Their eyes hidden. But they knew. They somehow knew what the other was saying without a single word. A team that’s been together for two hundred years at least.

Uihoy moves first and pushes past the foliage that hides them from sight. His feet silent on the plain-like grounds. He’s the first to reach an old, hoofed creature. The information is relayed back to Vic’tao.

Said Yautja begins to stalk around in the same manner. His head on a swivel while going in from a different direction. To block off the way back into the herd. They had to drive it away from the rest of the herd. Far away enough the big buck won’t dare leave the others behind to save this one.

“In position,” Vic’tao whispers over the comm. system, eyes watching the lumbering giant feed. Muscles relaxed, tail swaying every once in awhile, head down. Uihoy gave a short response.

Each waited until the count of three.

Like coordinated hunters, they sprung from the underbrush, weapons at the ready. Uihoy drove his combistick into the brown, wiry hide of the creature. The sharp end slicing through its flesh like paper. It ended up in a spot after the ribs end next to the spine.

Vic’tao latched onto the other side with his wrist blades entering at the muscular shoulder area. Red blood sprayed at first, coating his newly cleaned armor.

The creature cried out a warning and pain while it attempted to rear up. Vic’tao shifted down to bring his weight more on the front. The added five hundred pounds prevented it from throwing them off. It’s large, sharp horns were thrashed wildly, side to side. Vic’tao felt one hit its mark at his flank and dragged him up.

The only thing that saved him was his blades. Vic’tao stayed attached to the beast and slammed back down. Green blood poured from the terrible wound on his side. He locked his jaw. The blades are pulled out and aimed at the jugular.

It bucked its hips up. Uihoy tumbles into Vic’tao. The younger male misses his shot and is forced to grip the horns he was once sliced with.

Uihoy is thrown down onto the vulnerable ground. The air knocked out of his lungs. He’s flat on his back, gasping for the lost air. Vic double downs his effects. The struggle is fierce. It takes all of his strength to turn the creature’s head away from Uihoy’s direction. Out towards the open, empty field. Away from Uihoy and the alerted herd.

Instead of seeing it, he felt when Uihoy was back on the haunches. Vic’tao grinned to himself and shifted his position back onto the shoulder. The purple Yautja is grappling to the hind quarters as the beast bucks multiple times. But, Uihoy knows better. His claws sink true into the flesh under wiry fur.

Bellows and bleats from other creatures echoed through the air from different animals. Its chaos as they began to stamped away from the scene, taking the big bull with them. One thing off of their plate.

Each buck and rear caused the creature’s energy to deplete. Both Yautjas have settled down in their respected spots and held on tightly, using up less force. It wasn’t long before it heaved for air and could on shake violently. Its head straining to reach for Vic’tao. Anything to gorge the Yautja with its horns. But, the younger male was able to watch out. A lesson well learned.

Then, its thick legs gave out from underneath it, sending it to the ground in a heap. Vic’tao stayed on the shoulders and glanced back at Uihoy. A simple nod sent to the other. The purple Yautja tore his combistick out from the backside. Purposeful strides led him to thick neck of the hoofed creature.

A simple bow of respect given to it before he reared the spear back.

Vic’tao is knocked off the back and falls to the ground. Hooves and a barrel underside is all he could see. Instinct drives him to miss getting stepped on. It’s like a dance on his back, twisting and rolling out of the way. Until he gets a moment to ram the dual blades on his wrist up into the soft underside of the beast’s belly. Into its heart.

One last cry. The yellow Yautja barely has time to roll away as it crumbled to the ground. He’s on his feet the instant he’s free, at the ready. But it doesn’t move. The eyes blank and void of all life.

A smirk graces his features. They had done it! He glanced over at Uihoy for a moment only to snap his head back. His mate was on the ground. Bright, green blood coated his entire front side. Vic choked on a gasp and rushed over to Uihoy’s gasping body.

The beast had gouged him with a horn. All the way from his belly button and up to his sternum. Uihoy lays on his side, inners spilled onto the ground. Like a gutted prey.

“Uihoy!” the younger Yautja cried and frantically moved between Uihoy’s face and the deadly gouge. Until the purple Yautja raised a shaky hand and cupped his cheek. Vic cried hard. They were too far from the ship. Nothing could save him even if he got him to the ship.

He felt like he was losing everything all over again. All those years ago with you, their little ooman, little hunter. “Please, no.” Vic’tao carefully rolled the elder onto his back and crowded his face. Gentle, trembling hands gripped Uihoy’s features.

The two shared one last kiss.

A tug on his tress had Vic pulling away to find the dying eyes of Uihoy. “Put me… out. Can’t suffer, like this,” the elder pleaded with Vic’tao. His yellow eyes snapped wide. Tears continuously dripping down his face. Vic couldn’t believe what he was being asked of. Kill? Paya save him.

As Vic says his mate’s name, Uihoy tightened his grip. “Do… it.” He wasn’t dying quick enough. He was suffering, bleeding out with his guts spilled to the ground like prey.

Vic’tao swallowed hard around the building lump in his throat. The blades on his wrist had been retracted after the kill. His eyes find Uihoy’s as he raised the razor edge to the elder’s throat. With a simple slash, blood drains quicker. Uihoy is gone in less than a minute.

The sun rises and falls for some time. Vic’tao stays there at his mate’s side despite the growing need for food and hunger gnawing at his insides.

For once in a long, long time, the male was alone in the universe. Once a family full of love and laughter and teasing. Only left to be a grouchy, snarling, bitter male to face the universe. He’ll soon meet Cetanu. He’ll soon see his mates again.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Suckers

Fives & Echo

Summary: Hilarity ensues when Fives spots a lollipop in the shape of a clone.

Pairing: None

Characters: Fives, Echo, Rex, Fox

Tags & Warnings: humor, crude humor, sexual humor, sexual innuendos, art comic at the end

Word Count: 337

Author's Note: I blame cursed clone wars merchandise on eBay, late-night Discord chats, and @kimiheartblade for this abomination 😂 It's pretty much just dialogue. I don't even know if I want to call this a fic, considering how thrown together it is. But sometimes you just have to write funny stuff. As always, please enjoy 💚

"Hey, Echo, look at this!" Fives yells. He grabs Echo's arm and pulls him towards the candy storefront.

"What?" Echo huffs, then yanks his arm back.

"It's us!" Fives exclaims.

Echo raises an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"They made us into suckers!" Fives smiles. He points to the clone-shaped lollipops nestled in a stand next to the candy store window.

"And you're excited about that, why?" Echo asks.

"We're famous!" Fives grins.

"Right," Echo rolls his eyes, "because minors and middle-aged single women sucking on us is peak fame."

"Aw, come on, Echo," Fives says. "It's a novelty!"

Echo crosses his arms. "It's disgusting."

"I'm gonna buy one," Fives says, then walks towards the door.

"Wait!" Echo yells, trying to stop him, but he can't.

Fives buys the lollipop and returns to Echo, who is waiting for him outside the shop.

Echo sighs. "Happy now?"

Fives smiles and then shoves the lollipop in Echo's face. "Here, have a lick."

Echo cringes away. "Ew, no way!"

"It's just a lollipop," Fives says.

"I don't care," Echo huffs.

"But don't you want to know what flavor they made you?" Fives asks.

"No!" Echo says. "I don't have a flavor."

"But it looks like you," Fives says.

"I'm not sucking on something that looks like me," Echo says.

"Then it looks like me," Fives says.

"I'm not sucking on something that looks like you either!" Echo exclaims.

"It's kriffing sugar!" Fives retorts.

Rex taps his foot against the pavement, his arms crossed, while staring at his two arc troopers who are currently sitting handcuffed on the edge of the curb.

"Does someone want to tell me why the Coruscant Guard got called out here?" Rex asks.

Fives and Echo look away from each other in embarrassment.

Fox clears his throat. "Several passersby complained of two men in an altercation with one of them repeatedly yelling, 'suck on it'."

Rex takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We can expl–"

"Don't," Rex interjects with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to know."

Comic by @chiliger

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @totally-not-your-babe @t3mpest98 @novas-daydreaming @thestarwarslesbian

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[lu-fic-recommendation-of-the-day]

(author doesn't have a tumblr but its by alternatemind on ao3)

Series Summary:

An AU where Twilight loses his Twilight Shard and meets the Chain stuck as Wolfie with no way to transform back.

It will consist of a lot of oneshots/multichap fics of the Chain traveling around with Wolfie, having no clue that he’s really just a guy who’s stuck as a wolf. Will include an unhealthy amount of found family bonding and Time being the Chain’s collective dad (or dog dad, in Twilight’s unfortunate case).

Series Tags:

Flora/Wild

Midna/Twilight

Sky/Sun

Malon/Time

Tetra/Wind

Linked Universe Links As Family

Twilight-centric

Misunderstandings

Linked Universe Link(s) and Wild First Meet

its mostly a twilight meets the chain fic though wild does too

Wolves

Time is a Good Parent

Parental Time

midna is mentioned multiple times because I love her and want an excuse to write her

Good Sibling Wind

Protective Sky

I’ll add more tags when I think of them

Flora Needs a Hug

Wild uses Sign Language

sometimes

50/50 he’ll get more comfortable when time goes on

Legend Has a Bad Time

Wolf Twilight

Wild is a Little Shit

Curses

Alternate Universe

sky and sun are very in love and it’s SICKENING

Pranks and Practical Jokes

Twilight Angst

MILD - Freeform

he’s kind of going through something right now

Fluff

Family Bonding

Snowball Fight

Family Fluff

Groose Being an Idiot

groose will always get a cameo in every fic I write on skyloft even if it’s tiny

Wind is a Little Shit

Sky Has a Bad Time

as in I targeted legend last fic and now it’s sky’s turn (affectionate)

Light Angst

Twilight Has a Bad Time

that tag is alternate title for this series honestly

Wild Needs a Hug

Wild Gets a Hug

fi midna ravio and mask mentions

Party

Linkle & Warriors Are Twins

he actually has a good time he’s just in a constant state of suffering in this series so

Bonding

Brotherly Bonding

Parental Malon

Bathing/Washing

Warriors is a Little Shit

Twilight & Warriors Friendship

Twilight is a Little Shit

Time is a Little Shit

theyre all little shits it comes with being a hero

Sign Language

Domestic Fluff

No Plot/Plotless

Four Splits into the Colors

Cave-In

Four Has a Bad Time

THIS SOUNDS BAD but i promise it’s not they’re still vibing

just in a Situation this time

Sickfic

Sick Character

and then he has a fantastic time

briefly

Fever

Dreams

midna’s mentioned enough that i gave her a tag

Hyrule Gets a Hug

why is that not a tag

we need to make that a tag asap

Hurt/Comfort

Mentioned Marin

Mentioned Koholint Island

Blood and Injury

Fluff and Angst

Fights

Legend is a Little Shit

Choking

Fairy Hyrule

Plot

Pirates

Reunions

Major Character Injury

Sky is a Little Shit

Twilight is So Done

Drawing

the plot in this one is so small a minish could hold it in one hand but it’s there - Freeform

Word count: 136,325

Finished: No

[notjustjavierpena]

Firstborn

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A silly little piece for a silly little author, who wanted to have more of husband!Javi and The Peñas. This is a follow-up to Fever!

Summary: It’s early in the morning when you go into labor with you and Javier’s first child.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Sfw, pregnancy, angst, non-explicit descriptions of labor, love!!!

Word count: 2.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48493402

Firstborn

Your water breaks at 03:48 AM on an early Sunday morning. You know this because your initial thought is to check the clock on your nightstand, too tired to register why you’ve woken up and briefly thinking that you have wet the bed. You’ve had contractions on and off for a few days, but this marks something new, something real and exciting and oh God, soon something extremely painful too. 

Still being slightly disoriented from sleep, you reach between your legs without thinking much about it. Immediately, you shoot up from your lying position until you are sitting, suddenly very awake and aware of what is happening when a contraction starts at the base of your spine. Yep, definitely more painful than the ones you have had up until now.

Javier feels your movements, blinks awake as slowly as you had just done, but then does the same thing as you; stirs, realizes and widens his eyes. He looks to you, swears under his breath, and nearly falls on his face as he stumbles out of bed, because he accidentally forgets to untangle himself from his covers. 

“Now?” He just asks, ending up on the floor nonetheless. He sits on his ass, awaiting your answers. You can see the slight redness in his face from his pulse having quickened, giving away his nervous state. 

“Now,” you nod. You have a brief moment where you curse the fact that he will have to take you to the hospital in this state; clumsy, nervous, boyish and excited. Then you remember all the other things too: Caring, loving, supportive, serious and absolutely in love with you.

“Right,” he rubs a hand over his face as if collecting himself, smooths his thumb and forefinger over his mustache before fighting to get off the floor despite the thumping in his chest. He also somehow looks a little paler than usual, but powers through anyway, “Let’s get you out of the door, momma.”

“Javi,” you get helped off the bed with only a slight struggle of keeping your balance, placing a hand on your belly afterwards to soothe your child who seems eager to let you know of their arrival.

Javier is frantically stuffing useless things in the bag that has been packed and ready for weeks, and you take a deep breath when he shoves three extra towels in there. You’d be fine with it if it wasn’t for the anxiety creeping up the back of your neck at what is about to happen, “Javi.”

“Yes, amor?” 

“Just take the fucking bag and let’s go. It’s packed. It’s been packed for a month. They have towels in the hospital,” you waddle towards the door, “Javi, let’s go.”

*

You know that you are over-prepared with a bag; stuffed toys, beanies, pacifiers, onesies, candy, apparently a million towels. Yet in the car, between contractions, you realize that you are in no way mentally prepared, because you start to feel absolutely terrified at the idea of going into actual labor. 

You keep it together during the car ride though, afraid of Javier losing focus of his driving on the main road if you start to hyperventilate from being scared instead of in pain. It’s already hard enough to tell him to have his eyes front when you feel your whole pelvic floor start to cramp horribly, holding on for dear life as you breathe through the pain.

“Almost there,” he reassures, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

You want to turn the car around and go back home. 

*

You arrive at the maternity ward twenty minutes later. The latest contraction came as you were walking across the parking lot and nearly knocked the wind out of you, so when they finally get you a bed in your very own hospital room, you can feel relieved tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Javier is sweet, and has gotten you ice water and a chocolate bar from an overpriced vending machine, but he nearly drops both when he sees you crying as he enters the white room again.

Softly, he says your name and rushes to put everything down on the bedside table to empty his hands. He stands by your side, and you smile weakly at him until your bottom lip starts to tremble and your facade starts to crumble. 

“¿Qué pasa? Do you need a nurse?” He tries to seem calm for you, but his nervousness bleeds through. You know him better than anyone, and you can see that he is worried. You want to let him know that he doesn’t have to be, but you’re filled with anxiety as well.

“No need for a nurse, she’ll come check when she thinks it’s time to check,” you say through a few tears.

“What then? What’s happening?”

“I’m—“

Then another wave of pain hits you. This time is stronger than ever, causing you to groan loudly, holding onto the bed for support and trying to breathe through it. 

Javier watches you nervously, looking at the call button for a moment and then back at you. 

“Don’t call,” you say through gritted teeth. The pain gives you something to blame the tears on since you feel quite silly for being scared of something you’ve prepared yourself for, for months, and so you let yourself sob once and then twice as you wait for the contraction to fade out again. 

“You want something to drink?” Javier asks, picking up a cold rag from a bowl on the table. He gently dabs your forehead, sneaks down to tap away the flowing tears as well, “Chocolate?”

“No,” you pant as the cramping sensation passes. Your whole body relaxes into the bed again, grip loosening and your eyes fluttering closed, “I just want this to be over.”

“You’re so brave, momma,” he says with a little smile, replacing the cold rag with his hand instead. He runs it over your hair soothingly, repeating the action over and over, “And a fucking badass too. Not scared of anything.”

“Javi,”

“No no, it’s true,” his voice is usually enough to calm you.

“Javi, I’m terrified,” you confess and then immediately burst into more tears. You turn your head away to avoid his eyes from where you are lying down, feeling the tears run down over your cheek and into your hair, “I’m already exhausted. What if I can’t do it? And what if I’m hurting the baby? What if I’m going to be a shit mom?”

Javier is silent for just a moment, holding onto the bed’s railing and tapping it anxiously with his fingers. He opens his mouth to say something but then hesitates just as he is about to. 

“Say something so I know you don’t agree,” you sniffle, heart pounding in your chest.

“Agree?” Javier’s tone is a little more high-pitched than usual, but he clears his throat to bring it back down again, “Of course I don’t agree, amor. We’ll figure it out, yeah? The baby-thing? We always do, and you’ll be the best momma out there.” 

You dare to turn your head to face him again. He looks perfect; eyes soft, smiling down at you with an expression that tells you it’ll be okay. 

“And I’ll be right here until he’s here, ain’t gonna be one of them fainters now, am I?” He jokes, drumming slightly on the railing, “Not even if you break my wrist. I’ll even allow you to do that.”

“He?” You ask. He comes down to kiss you and then you watch him push himself back to stand upright, going to put a straw into your ice water and holding the cup up to your face. You take a sip.

“I don’t have hard proof right here, but I just know it’s gonna be a boy,” he looks a little embarrassed as he says it, but you just love him more. He sets down the cup again, takes your hand afterwards, “You can do this, and I’m not going anywhere.”

*

“Javier F. Peña! You! You did this to me! Fuck you!” You spit his name venomously as you endure yet another contraction, which has become more intense and frequent by now. You have been scooted to the edge of the bed, legs in the torture instruments they call leg supports.

Javier looks like someone who is about to turn on their heel to run off in the opposite direction of danger. He doesn’t though because as much as your eyes are wild, they are also full of tears. He stays by your side, holding your hand as you continue your scarily accurate impression of the girl from The Exorcist. 

“Alright,” your midwife says, “I think it’s time to push, contractions should become less intense but more frequent.”

“You think it’s time?” You yell loudly through a contraction. Javier says your name softly.

“I know it’s time,” she corrects herself, “You got this, mom. When you feel the next one, you give me what you got, alright? I’ll count down with you.”

You whimper as you nod, but at least you can see light at the end of the tunnel, and so you give it your everything and more until Javier is nearly brought to his knees from you squeezing his hand. 

“Fuck!” You swear through your teeth and throw yourself back into the mattress to catch your breath. Your hair is wet and your skin is glistening from sweat and tears, making you sob from the exhaustion that has completely overwhelmed your body. You shake your head rapidly as you pant, “I can’t do it. I can’t— I can’t do it, I’m sorry. I don’t want to. Please, I don’t want to.”

“We’re almost there, almost,” your midwife encourages, but you just feel naked and sweaty and tired. She keeps going, “Just a few more pushes, I promise.”

Javier kisses your damp hair as you cry, holding your hand tightly. When he draws back, he finds your eyes, “I’m right here, amor. Just a few more, hear that? C’mon now.”

“I can’t do it,” you sniffle but it just turns into more wreaking sobs.

“If anyone can, it’s you, baby, it’s you,” he presses another kiss to your hair, shifting his hand to entwine your fingers and gently squeezing, “One more push. Please. For me.”

“O-okay,” you hold his gaze, bottom lip nearly splitting in half as you bite down on it when another contraction starts.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1…” Your midwife counts out loud.

It is in fact just one more push, and then you hear the cry of a newborn fill the room. Everything has been worth it, you decide in an instant, and whatever pain you’re experiencing is numbed by the insane amount of happy chemicals flooding your tired form. 

“It’s a boy,” the midwife says and through heavy eyes, you can see Javier tense up at the mention of the sex, “We got a name?”

“Lucas,” you and Javier say at the same time. 

It takes them a moment to wipe Lucas down and cut his umbilical cord, but when you feel the weight of his tiny body on your chest, you start crying all over. He cries in your arms, searching instinctively for food and you sniffle quietly as you admire your creation.

“Hello you,” you say weakly as he suddenly looks you in the eye, “Oh my God, look at him. I made him.”

Lucas Peña. Nothing but a mess of dark hair, tiny hands and feet, and somehow such a strong resemblance to his father despite being so new and frail. 

Javier is silent beside you, and you’ll never say it out loud, but you have forgotten he is there for just a moment. It’s only when he clears his throat that you realize how strained his voice is, cracking for just a split second as he tries talking.

“He’s perfect,” he sniffles, daring himself to reach out and run a knuckle down the infant’s back, breath hitching in his throat, “You did so fucking good, mi amor.” 

Lucas wiggles a little under Javier’s touch, small fingers moving in the real world for the first time. You force yourself to look up at your husband to see his reaction, but you’re scared you’ll miss the tiniest thing that your baby does.

“I love you,” you smile tiredly. Javier leans down to kiss you ever so gently and it’s like a permission, a promise that everything is under control of his unconditional love for the both of you.

You can feel your eyes starting to close at that despite knowing not everything is over just yet. You’ll take the chance of resting for just a few minutes. 

Besides you, Javier is trying his damn hardest to suppress a sob. He does manage, but only until he gets to hold his first- and newborn son against his chest for the first time.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[thetriumphantpanda]

The Way You Miss Me | Joel Miller (Chapter One)

Joel is your Daddy's best friend and work colleague. One evening, when your dad has to work late and you've been babysitting Sarah, tequila emboldens you to tell Joel what you've always wanted to tell him.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings | Smut, Oral (F Receiving), Protected PIV intercourse, age gap, nothing else I can think of but let me know if I've missed anything.

Word Count | 4.1K (I will not apologise)

Author's Note | So, back on my Joel Miller hype again. I've got plans to turn this into a multi-chaptered fic that spans the timeline of the show so if you liked this and want to read more let me know! Feel free to slide into my asks with feedback/love! Enjoy.

Read on AO3 here.

It was hot. Austin was having the hottest summer you could remember in years. You threw down the magazine you were attempting to read and stood up from the couch. There was no air in this damn house - you wondered how Sarah was sleeping upstairs. 

You checked the clock on the wall. 9:15pm. Joel was supposed to be home an hour ago. Not that you were complaining. The extra time spent babysitting Sarah meant more money Joel would hand over to you. You’d been babysitting for Joel since you finished your last semester at college. You were waiting to go back at the end of the summer to start your master’s programme and needed all the help you could get in boosting your savings. Your father had worked with Joel for years and when his last babysitter had left town, he’d offered you the opportunity which you were only too happy to take. 

Deciding to check on Sarah, you tiptoed up the stairs. You could hear soft snoring coming through the door. You silently cursed the teenager for her ability to sleep through the heat. You knew once your father picked you up it would be a sleepless night. Tossing and turning, sweating into the sheets. 

As you were walking back down the stairs you heard the telltale jangle of keys in the door and there he was. Joel Miller was quite possibly the most handsome man you’d ever laid your eyes on. Taller than you with broad shoulders and a face that you could only described as carved by the angels. Forget the fact he was 12 years your senior as well as one of your father’s closest friend, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him. 

“Evenin’ Darlin’,” He spoke, dropping his keys on the entryway table, “How was Sarah?” 

“She’s fine, fast asleep upstairs,” You replied, reaching for your bag, “How she does it in this heat I’ll never know.” 

Joel chuckled as he pulled out his wallet, pulling out the wad of notes to hand over to you, “Sorry I’m late, the delivery was late this morning,” You gratefully accepted the money he handed over, folding into the back pocked of your shorts, “Your dad will be a bit later tonight, he had to stay on site but he’ll drop round and pick you up later.” 

You nodded and smiled at Joel, “No problem, do you mind if I sit outside and read?” 

“Be my guest, darlin,” Was his reply, “I’ll go and check on Sarah and come and join you, too damn hot to be cooped up in here.” 

Once he was bounding up the stairs two at a time, you reached into your backpack and picked up one of the books you needed to read for your upcoming course. You settled yourself in one of the chairs on Joel’s back porch, folding your legs up underneath you to get comfortable. You’d only read a few pages when the back door opened and Joel appeared with two glasses in hand, one filled with ice and an amber liquid you knew would be whiskey and the other which he handed to you.

“What is it?” You asked, folding the corner of your page to mark your place before taking the glass.

“Tequila and pineapple,” He replied, “I remembered it was what you liked from the cookout last month.” 

You smiled, sipping the ice-cold drink, “Very perceptive Mr Miller.” 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, the only sound was the slight tinkling of ice against glass as you sipped your drinks. 

“How much longer do you have until you leave for school?” 

“About another month,” You spoke, “Although I decided against moving out from home, cheaper to stay living with my dad and it’s a master’s degree so I shouldn’t expect to have much of a social life anyway.” 

“You didn’t want to run away to another city again?” Joel pried, referencing the three years you’d spent in California getting your undergraduate degree. 

“Strangely no, the University of Texas has exactly the course I wanted, if I don’t have to move away then I won’t,” You shrugged, “Contrary to popular belief I like living at home with my dad,” you punctuated talking with a drink, “Sure he works long hours and at this point I spend more time with Sarah than I do with anyone else, but I like it here.” 

“So if you’re staying, you think you’d be able to carry on a few evenings a week with her?” Joel asked, “We’ve got a big job coming in September, she’ll be back at school so it’ll just be evenings, but she’s really taken to you darlin’.”  You smiled, “I’ve really taken to her as well Joel, she’s a lovely girl,” you took another sip of your drink, realizing it was going down far too easily, “Of course I’ll help out, I should get my timetable soon so I can let you know when I’ll have time.” 

Joel did nothing but nod, finishing his whiskey with a final drink, “You want another?” he asked, gesturing to the dregs of your drink in the bottom of your glass, “Your dad said he would call when he was leaving, and I’ve not heard anythin’ so we’ve got time.” 

He was a hard many to decline, you extended your glass to him, “I suppose in that case it would be rude not to.” 

Joel was back quickly with your second round of drinks, handing it over to you before taking his seat once more. 

“Your dad said you were havin’ boy troubles…” Joel trailed off, “I don’t mean to pry.” He added quickly. 

You chuckled, “Can you call it boy trouble if you were never official you asked?” Scoffing into your drink before sipping, “I guess he just found someone else, didn’t even have the balls to call me, just text me and said he’d found someone he liked better.” 

If you hadn’t been intently listening, you’d have missed what he said, “Idiot.” 

“You can say that again.” You replied, looking Joel straight in the eyes. 

“Maybe you need a man and not a boy.” He offered as the solution. 

A lump appeared in your throat as well as the tell-tale sign of butterflies in your stomach, “Oh yeah?” You countered, emboldened by the tequila in your veins, “A man like you?”

“Darlin,” Joel began, you could tell he was having an internal battle with himself, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“I’ve had two glasses of tequila Joel, I’m not wasted.” 

“That’s not what I was sayin’,” Joel countered, “I’m old and I’m your daddy’s best friend, that’s not what I was suggesting at all.”  “You’re 36 Joel, that’s not old,” You smirked, placing your book on the floor beside you, “And I’m 24, I’m old enough to make decisions about what I want.”  “I’m what you want?” He asked, “Really?” 

“Have you never noticed the way I look at you Joel?” You asked, “I have never met a man quite like you.” 

“You’re too kind darlin’,” Joel smirked and you could swear he was blushing, “Why don’t you come on over here and sit next to me?” 

He was gesturing to the empty space on the bench he had chosen to sit at. You don’t think you’d moved so fast in all your life. Within seconds you were sat next to him, glass abandoned on the floor by your old seat. You sat in a similar position to before with your legs wrapped underneath you, close enough that your heart was beating through your chest, but far enough away that you weren’t touching each other. 

Slowly you watched as Joel drained his second drink, putting the glass on the floor in a similar fashion to you, before reaching out to touch the skin on your leg. It was a soft touch, but it lit a fire within you. 

“Unwrap your legs baby,” Joel whispered, “Lay them out on my lap.” 

His hands were rough against the smooth skin of your ankles as he pulled them into the position he wanted. Resting on his lap with his hands running up and down as far as he could reach. Your breath was hitched so far into your throat that you were sure you would suffocate. 

“Joel,” was all you could managed to choke out at his touch, “Joel you need to kiss me.” 

You couldn’t quite believe what was happening. The man that you had been crushing on for years, who should be completely off limits, was caressing your legs, his hands moving closer to your thighs with each second. No man had ever had this effect on your – you were sure if either of you dipped your hands beneath your shorts, you’d be the wettest you’d ever been. 

“I need to kiss you?” Joel asked, his eyes boring right into your own, “Is that so?” 

So, he was a tease. Under any other circumstance you’d be delighted in knowing this. However, you knew you were on borrowed time. It was only a matter of time before his phone rang and your dad would be on his way to pick you up and you’d be damned if you were leaving here without knowing what it felt like to have his lips on yours. Or any other place on your body for that matter. 

“Joel I swear to God if you don’t put your lips on me I think I’m going to die.” 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” He murmured, “Having your dead body on my hands or having to look your dad in the eye knowing I’ve made out with his daughter.” 

Joel Miller and his smart fucking mouth. You could feel your arousal pooling in your lower stomach and you’d had enough. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and unceremoniously pulled him to you. For a man as large as Joel he moved with a grace you didn’t possess in that moment, landing right where you wanted him about an inch from your mouth. 

For what felt like an age the two of you stared at each other, Joel’s dark and hungry eyes looking directly into your soul. You felt his hand cup your cheek – his rough thumb making soft strokes to your skin before it was all over. 

Joel softly pressed his lips to yours and it was like you exploded. It was light, some would say barely there, but it was enough to ignite the fire within you. You ran one of your hands around the back of Joel’s neck, feeling the expanse of curls at the back of his neck before pulling him more firmly to you. Within seconds he was deepening the kiss and it was all open mouths and tongues. You bucked your hips up into his own, feeling a growing bulge in his jeans. 

Without thinking, your hands moved from being wrapped around Joel’s neck to resting at the top of his jeans. His mouth was overwhelming on yours and you couldn’t think straight but what you did know is that the sooner you got his clothes off the sooner you would be consumed by pleasure. 

“Slow down darlin’” Joel chuckled, finally pulling away from your mouth, “I can’t fuck you on my back porch for everyone to see now, can I?” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his brazen words. You had no idea where your brazen behavior had come from, normally shy and willing to please anyone. But Joel had you pinned down on a bench, legs spread to accommodate his hips and a growing hard on that you could feel through your shorts. He could actively invite the neighbors around to watch from the back lawn and you wouldn’t complain. All you knew was that you needed him. 

“Let them watch,” You managed to breath out, “I don’t care where you do it Joel or how for that matter, but if you don’t start taking my clothes off, I’m going to explode.” 

He took a moment to look into your eyes, almost as if he was trying to talk himself out of what was going to happen next. It was one thing to make out with his best friend’s daughter – he could chalk it down to whiskey and tequila and keep his distance from now on – but another thing entirely to strip her naked and plunge his cock into her until she didn’t know her name and the only thing she could ask was for more. 

“Get up.” Was all he said, standing up himself before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “Do you promise to keep quiet?” He asked. 

Words failed you so all you could do was nod in response, “If you promise to be a good girl and be as quiet as possible, then I’ll take you upstairs.” 

“I promise.”

Joel all but grabbed your hand, dragging you through the humid house and up the stairs as quietly as you could manage. Safely ensconced in his room you took a moment to take in the surroundings. Messy, just like it always had been when you’d peeked your head in to look at Joel’s space whenever he wasn’t around. The bed was unmade, like it usually was but none of it mattered. All that mattered and all you could focus on was Joel’s hand at the small of your back, pushing you towards the bed. 

“Lie down for me baby.” He whispered into your ear as you felt the loss of his hand. 

You did as you were told, getting onto the bed on your hands and knees to crawl up to the headboard, hoping and praying that Joel was focusing his eyes on your ass as you did so. Once you turned yourself around and propped yourself up on the pillows you could tell you’d had just the effect you wanted. 

“Jesus girl,” he moaned, undoing his belt and freeing it from the belt loops on his jeans, “I’m going to have to make a rule of no shorts in this house from now on, I’m never going to be able to look at you the same now.” 

A giggle erupted from your mouth at his words and you fumbled to undo the button of your shorts – immediate relief flooding your stomach as they loosened. 

You watched intently as Joel mimicked your move from before, crawling up the bed to settle in the space between your thighs. 

“Shall I tell you what I want to do, darlin’?” 

You nodded, reaching your arms out to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

“I’m going to take all these clothes off and then I want you to sit on my face, that okay with you?” You replied with a moan as the last button came undone, “And then, once I’ve got you nice and wet, I’m going to pin you down underneath me and fuck you until you don’t remember your name,” Another moan in reply as you slipped the shirt down his shoulders, Joel moving enough to take it off and discard it to the floor, “But you gotta remember to keep quiet baby, okay?” 

“I already promised, didn’t I?” You challenged, “Take my clothes off already Joel.” 

Like a rehearsed dance, it took next to no time for Joel to have you naked and spread out underneath him. 

“You look like a goddess, darlin’.” he breathed against your neck as his hands wandered down from your breasts to between your thighs, hovering just above where you really wanted those fingers.

If you hadn’t been so overwhelmed about the fact that his fingers were mere millimeters from your clit you probably would have curled up and died at his compliment. No-one had ever made you feel this way, like you were the only woman they ever wanted to look at. No-one was likely to come close to this again so you were trying to savour it the best you could. 

All of a sudden Joel had moved, he was on his back led next to you, “Come on darlin’, hop on up here.” 

You did as you were told, momentarily taking the time to straddle his hips before Joel used his hands to scoot you up until your pussy was spread and bare against his face.

“I said sit,” Joel murmured, “Not hover.” He used his rough hands to pull your hips down so that you were indeed sat right on his face. 

From that moment you were done for. Joel’s tongue licked long and slow stripes all the way from your entrance up to your clit. Every time the tip of his tongue hit your bundle of nerves your legs would shake but he wouldn’t focus there for more than a few seconds. It was driving you nuts. 

You moved your hips against his mouth and then grabbed a fistful of hair from between your legs to hold his mouth on your clit. Before a moan could leave your mouth you clapped a hand over your lips. Joel’s tongue was focused entirely on your clit with devastating consequences, you were unashamedly grinding against his tongue and every now and again a groad would echo through your body from Joel’s lips. 

“Oh my god Joel,” You whispered as quietly as you could manage, “I’m going to cum.” 

Joel stopped briefly enough to respond, “Good, let go for me baby.” 

That was all it took for you to come undone. Your legs clasped at the sides of his heads as your orgasm ripped through you, a hand yet again moving to cover your mouth to muffle the sound of your moans. Joel’s tongue continued flicking against your clit, sending aftershocks all the way up your body. 

“Such a good girl for me, doin’ exactly what I asked.” He spoke as you lifted yourself off and flopped down onto the bed, attempting to catch your breath. 

Joel had other ideas that didn’t involve resting and was quickly up and shedding himself of his jeans. You watched intently as his slipped his underwear off, you’re sure your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. Thick and long, almost uncertain that it would fit at all. 

He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself effortlessly between your thighs, “Look at you baby,” He breathed out, “All spread and waiting for me.”  He took a moment to reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a condom, tearing the packet open and fitting it on himself in the blink of an eye. 

He settled once again between your thighs, looking you directly in the eye as he rested his hands on either side of your face, “You ready for me baby?” He whispered. 

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” 

He smirked down at you as he lined himself up with your dripping pussy. He slowly eased himself into you, centimeter by centimeter, watching closely for any signs of discomfort, but finding none. In fact, Joel almost fell apart as he watched you spread your legs wider for him. 

“Joel,” You mewed quietly as he bottomed out inside of you, “Fuck that feels good.” 

“Darlin’ you have no idea how good you feel around me,” He spoke, “I’m not gonna hold on for long.” 

In response all you did was grind your hips up into him, “I’m not going to break Joel, you need to start moving.” 

He did exactly as he was told and began pulling out and fucking into you in earnest. The stretch of his cock inside of you was heavenly and the growls falling from his mouth as he fucked you were overwhelming. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Came a demanding voice above you, “You can give me one more baby.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hand immediately focused in on your pussy, your fingers working your clit with that telltale feeling in your abdomen that told you it wouldn’t take much work to have you come undone again. 

“God you look fuckin’ perfect baby,” Joel moaned as his eyes fixed on your hand between the two of you, “I can feel you getting tight around me, you like that?” He asked, “You like my cock inside you?”  “Oh Joel,” You moaned, “I’ve never liked anything so much before.” 

“Go on baby, let go for me.”  It was like your brain was in his command – almost immediately you felt your pussy clench around his cock as you arched your back up into him. A hand flew to your mouth that wasn’t your own – Joel trying to keep you quiet so you didn’t wake Sarah up in the next room. 

“Fuckin’ hell baby,” Joel could barely speak, “You get so tight around me when you cum.”  You could feel him faltering, his thrusts were speeding up but they were messy and you knew he wasn’t going to hold on for much longer. 

“Joel,” Your voice was broken, “Joel, pull out and cum on my face.”  “Fuckin’ filthy baby,” Was his response but he did as he was asked, quickly pulling out and discarding the condom before straddling your chest, “You ready?”  All you could do was nod, watching with an open mouth as he jerked himself a few times before it was all over. Ropes of Joel’s warm cum hit your skin as a low moan left his mouth. He was still for a moment, eyes closed in ecstasy before opening them to look at you. 

“Pretty as a picture.” He spoke with a smirk. 

You smiled back, looking him dead in the eye as you ran your finger through some of the cum painted across your cheek, bringing your covered finger to your mouth. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever looked so good covered in my cum.” Joel said as he hopped off the bed and fetched a towel that was draped across the chair in the corner of his room. 

“You spend a lot of time finishing on women’s faces?” You chuckled, gratefully accepting the towel to clean yourself up. 

All of a sudden a high pitched chime filled the room, “Shit!” Joel exclaimed, “Where’s my fuckin’ phone?” 

He found it strewn on the floor next to his jeans, he answered quickly, “Hello?” Came his gruff voice, “Outside now?!” Joel’s eyes were wide open as your bliss was shattered, “Alright mate, no problem, she’ll be out in a little while.” 

He hung up the phone and flung it onto the bedside table as you scrabbled around the room for your clothes, “I can’t find my fucking panties.” You muttered, pulling your shirt over your head. 

“You haven’t got time darlin’,” Joel replied, throwing your shorts at you, “Put these on, hurry up.” 

If it wasn’t for the absolute terror that you dad was waiting outside for you, the way Joel was rushing you might have hurt – would he have led with you and whispered sweet things into your ear in the dark if you’d been able to stay? Or would he still be rushing you to get out and leave him alone? 

Once you were dressed and Joel had managed to throw something on as well, you were both bounding down the stairs. You picked up your bag and threw your sandals that you’d discarded earlier in the evening back onto your feet before taking a moment to catch your breath and smooth your hair. 

Just as you were about to head to the front door, Joel’s hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you flush to his body – he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate that you were even more breathless than you had been before. 

“Just know darlin’, if he wasn’t waiting outside for you, I’d wrap you up in my bed and never let you leave.” 

“That mean’s I can come back then?” 

“Of course,” another chaste kiss pressed to your lips, “Baby, you’ve got me in a spin but I’m not giving you up, not yet.” 

Then, with a swift slap of your ass, he was pushing you to the door. Keeping his distance as he watched you walk down the steps and climb into your dad’s truck he did his best to act normally. 

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her Joel!” Your dad called out of the window, “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” 

Joel could see you sinking into your seat at your dad’s words, even through the car windows. 

“Oh not at all!” Joel called back, “Good as gold, as always!” 

You swear you saw that son of a bitch wink at you. Motherfucker. 

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[sundrop-writes]

Kisses Like Fire Whiskey

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary:

When you come back from a long healing apprenticeship in France, you and Fred catch up over drinks, reminiscing about your days as mischievous rebels. In the drunken haze, some important things are realized.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Fluff (with a slight bit of Angst). Set post Deathly Hallows and during Goblet of Fire.

Word Count: 7,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is bookended with scenes that take place after the war, but obviously this is a Fred Lives AU; part of this takes place after main storyline of Deathly Hallows and part of it takes place in a flashback during Goblet of Fire (when Fred and the reader are in their sixth year); the reader and Fred are the same age; while part of this takes places post Deathly Hallows, there isn't mentions of the war; it's never mentioned exactly how long the reader was away, but the reader and Fred are both in their early 20s in the bookended parts; drinking and drunkenness are major plot points in this fic, as well as underage drinking; underage characters being in a bar/pub; Fred and the reader both drink, but there are mentions of Fred seeming more sober than the reader/handling his alcohol better; they are drunk to the point of lowering their inhibitions, but not to the point of passing out or forgetting things; mentions of George x Katie Bell as a background ship; mentions of splinching/the dangers of Apparating while drunk (does not actually happen in the fic, everyone is fine); mentions of vomiting due to over consumption of alcohol (doesn't happen to any of the main characters of this fic, it's a very small background element); passing mention of a cursed object that makes people spit up their own blood; creepy men approach the reader (and Fred defends her) - minor sexual harassment from older men toward the reader; this does use Y/N (I started out as a Quizilla girly, I will live and die by Y/N); this is mostly just mutual pining and fluff with a love confession at the end. So please enjoy!!

A/N: when I read the original request, I was inspired to take it a lot further, and after writing The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes, I have realized that I really loving writing simplistic fics that are mutual pining that turns into a love confession. It's so much fun.

...

“So then - so then - Bill says: ‘where’s Percy?’, and Mum looks around the table and realises Perce is even there.” George chuckled brightly, topping off the telling of another one of their chaotic childhood stories. 

“‘Course, Mum blamed it on us.” Fred said, rolling his eyes. 

“As if she was wrong!” You argued, reaching out and smacking him on the shoulder playfully. 

Your words were louder to your own ears than you had intended to say them, slurring slightly on your lips. Perhaps you had more to drink than you had realised, but you were simply having fun catching up with your dearest, oldest friends. So you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care or view it as a problem. 

You were simply overjoyed to see Fred and George again. 

You were visiting England for the first time in years, and naturally, the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shop had been your first stop. You had grown up with the twins - since your first year at Hogwarts together, they had been two of your closest friends. Ever since you had been sorted into Gryffindor with them, the three of you had been thick as thieves. Right from the moment you had suggested to them that they actually unscrew a toilet seat lid and send it to their little sister Ginny in the post when they had initially just been joking about doing so. Ginny had found it highly amusing - their mother, not so much. 

But when you met Molly for the first time in person, you were always on her good side. You were very good at playing the ‘perfect angel’ in front of authority figures (unlike the twins). So you could very easily bat your eyelashes and say a few sweet things, as well as being on your best behaviour on the surface, before sneaking around with the twins at night and helping them with their pranks - not that anyone else ever suspected you of doing so. 

You were the perfect accomplice for them. Someone who was labelled as a goody-two-shoes who was down for mischief at any time. 

You had been slightly heartbroken when you found out that they were planning to quit their Seventh Year partyway through in order to start their joke shop. You knew that it had always been a dream of theirs, and it was your dream to see them succeed in it. But a large part of you had been hoping to graduate with your best friends by your side. They had offered for you to come with them, of course. They told you that you could have a very fulfilling career at the shop. But you had other plans for yourself. 

So you watched them ride off on their brooms, cheering and hollering for them alongside everyone else. And after your graduation, you had come to visit the shop in its full glory, seeing its whimsical beauty with your own eyes before you left England. As much as you hated that your lives had taken such different paths, you admired them deeply for succeeding. 

Since then, you had been in France. You had taken on a prestigious healing apprenticeship in order to become a high level Healer. It was something you had always dreamed of doing - helping people through the skilled art of healing. 

Perhaps, in some ways, it was a career choice inspired partially by your two best friends - seeing them blow themselves up or get horrible boils testing their own products, you wanted to be able to soothe the side effects faster. And you knew that there were plenty more children out there like them. Children who would fall from trees pretending to be a dragon or lose their teeth trying to eat a deck of Exploding Snap, children who needed gentle understanding from a Healer rather than scolding. 

You had recently finished up your apprenticeship, and you were hoping to get a job at St. Mungo’s to be closer to the people you always viewed as family. But even just stepping foot back in the twins’ shop felt like home. You had been greeted with tight hugs and so much chatter between them about missing you that you could barely decipher the words between two voices. They had invited you up to the flat above the shop for a drink - so now, hours later, you were quite tipsy and feeling the best that you had in years. 

“You know boys, I haven’t - I haven’t been this tossed off my tits in quite a while!” You announced loudly, pausing between words to let out a small hiccup, signifying just how drunk you were. 

You weren’t at the level of drunk where things were unpleasant - not where the room was spinning and you were on the verge of passing out, battling with nausea. But your normal sense of proprietary had definitely been tossed out the window, you felt fuzzy around the edges, and everything felt delightfully warm. Especially considering you had been drinking Fire Whiskey. 

You hadn’t had a drink all throughout your apprenticeship, as much as the other young people working with you encouraged you to ‘take a load off’ every once and a while. Your work was something that you took very seriously (especially when Fred and George weren’t around to tempt you with pranks and daily mischief). So this was the first time in a long time that you had actually taken the time to relax, and the alcohol was hitting you a lot harder than even you realised. 

The boys chuckled at your words, George turning bright red from how hard he was laughing. Perhaps the booze was hitting him pretty hard too. While Fred’s eyes were dancing with that brightness they always had when he was having fun, he didn’t seem quite as sloppy. You hadn’t been paying attention, but he likely didn’t have as much to drink, and had simply been enjoying your company the entire time. 

“You know, I really missed you, Fred and George.” You said, pure sincerity dripping through your tone, your affection amplified in your chest by your drunkenness. You couldn’t hold yourself back - your emotions bubbling to the surface without your consent. “And I really, really missed you, Fred.” 

You turned to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder, your touch practically burning up through the sleeve of his silken shirt (you were surprised by how nicely the twins dressed now that they were established bussinessmen). You hated that you couldn’t hold back the need to emphasise the fact that you had missed Fred just a bit more. But he had been on your mind a lot more than his brother had, as scarily similar as they were. 

Even if you had barely admitted it to yourself, throughout all your years at Hogwarts, you had a romantic inclination towards Fred. 

It was never something you had acted on, for fear of ruining the amazing friendship that the two of you had. But as your visit to England grew closer and closer, you found yourself losing focus on your work and thinking about him more and more. You wondered if he had found someone - you wondered if his good looks, his charm, his humour had landed him a wife in the time that you had been gone. It wouldn’t have surprised you if, during the time you had been gone, he had married or even had kids.

Obviously he had a wonderful career nailed down, so a family would have been the natural next step for him.  

Those thoughts made you approach the shop’s door with equal parts dread and excitement. You eagerly wanted to see him again but didn’t want to see that there was a ring on his finger. You had been all too happy to find out during your long, winding ‘catch up’ conversation that, in fact, he was still single. George had brought up that fact more than once, actually, nagging on his brother’s lonely status like it was the most recent funny joke he could prod at. 

When you heard him talk about it, there was that insecurity still bubbling beneath the surface - the thought that you had missed your chance, or that Fred had never been interested in you romantically at all. It was something that couldn’t even be knocked away by booze, and that was gnawing at you now that storytime was winding down. 

Fred and George exchanged a look - one of those silent conversations that could only be had through micro-expressions because of their closeness as twins. It was something that had always deeply irritated you during your days at Hogwarts, desperately trying to decipher if it meant ‘close to expulsion’ trouble or simply ‘skipping a class’ trouble.

“Well, would you look at the time,” George said, loudly and rather cartoonishly as he looked at his watch. It was something that you likely would have found suspect if you weren’t feeling hazy and drunk. “I told Katie I would pop over to hers sometime this weekend, so I should get going,” 

Something that had come as a brilliant surprise to you: finding out that George was now engaged to Katie Bell. 

Not only were you shocked to know that George seemed more than eager to ‘settle down’ and get married, but you were entirely curious about how they came to be as a couple. Especially considering that, as far as you knew, she had always seemed to find the twins’ pranks more annoying than anything else. 

But you supposed that annoyance and attraction were two twigs on the same branch, the tree just needed to be shaken a little for something romantic to happen. The two of them hadn’t officially moved in together yet, as much as George talked about her with those sweet, rose-coloured lenses, and seemed to want to spend all his time around her. The twins still lived in the flat above the shop, two twin beds in the bedroom, as they always had in their room at the Burrow. But from the way Fred remarked on it, and from what you had seen glancing into their bedroom when you had gotten up to use the toilet, George was over at Katie’s far more than he was at their flat. 

You couldn’t help but to find it sweet. George was in love. 

It made you happy for him, knowing that he had found someone good for him. But thinking about it caused a pang in your chest as you wondered if Fred was lonely. You knew that loneliness certainly wasn’t a feeling that he was used to. If it was you or George, or one of his many other brothers, he always had someone at his side to keep him company. 

You could only imagine what those nights were like - when the shop closed up and George popped off to his soon to be wife’s place, leaving Fred to nothing but the quiet. (You knew that Weasleys were never good with quiet - part of the reason that the twins were the way that they were.) 

George peeled himself off the floor, where the three of you had been sitting around the coffee table in the lounge. Like a gangly baby deer, he began stumbling about due to his own drunkenness before he gained a proper footing and finally managed to stand up straight. You let out a snorting laugh at the sight and Fred - very clearly the most sober of the three of you - rushed out of his seat to grab George by the shoulders, making sure that his brother was alright. 

“You sure that you’re okay to Apparate, Georgie?” Fred asked.

That kindness, that caring - it was something people often overlooked when they saw Fred Weasley. But it was one of the things that had drawn you to him the most. He was such a sweet person, and he cared about the people in his life with such a ferocity that it made your soul ache just to know that you were one of them. 

“I’ll be fine, Freddie.” George replied. 

Fred picked up George’s coat and began helping him into it, and you barely paid attention to the hushed conversation that the two of them had as you picked up the large (now rather light) bottle of Fire Whiskey and poured yourself another drink. 

You caught something online the lines of ‘just go for it, for Merlin’s sake’ - very strained and annoyed, but you honestly had no clue what they were talking about. As you took a sip of your drink - you truly didn’t care. 

Fred heaved out a sigh and then George disappeared with a crack. You craned your neck to look at the spot where he had been, just wanting to make sure that there was no blood or unsightly pieces of George left behind. There weren’t any - he had done fine.

“Havin’ another one, are we?” Fred remarked, walking around the coffee table to collapse onto the plush couch behind your back. 

You chugged the rest of the Fire Whiskey from your glass all in one go, growling slightly as it burned sharply down your throat before you put the glass down once again. 

“I’m celebrating!” You cheered loudly - again, much louder than you intended it to be. “I missed my best friends so much. It’s so - so good to be home.” 

“But apparently you missed me just a bit more?” Fred chuckled, referring to your comment from before. 

You moved to get up on the couch with him, and found your legs unsteady beneath you. Fred saw what you were doing and put a hand on your upper arm, hauling you back to sit on the cushions beside him. You moaned quietly at the warmth of his large hand on your bare skin, exposed by the camisole you were wearing. At one point, you had been wearing a nice cardigan, but you had stripped out of it as the alcohol drove your body temperature up.

You leaned back into the couch, and cuddled up against him. His body was soft and muscled at the same time, and he felt so nice against you. With your inhibitions lowered, you could see no fault in snuggling tightly into his side and laying your head on his chest. You wanted to simply enjoy the physical affection from a person you had missed so dearly. 

You didn’t see the pure warring on Fred’s face as you did this - the confliction and yearning and hurt flashing over his features. He had missed you too, but he knew that you had missed him as a friend, just as a good friend, and not as the ‘one that got away’ that he had been thinking about every damn day since. But he could be cool about this, he told himself. He wouldn’t let his stupid feelings get in the way. 

After a moment of pushing those pesky feelings back down, he finally relaxed into your touches and wrapped an arm around you, lazily brushing his fingers across the bare skin of your arm on the other side. You sighed happily at the feeling. From this close, he could smell the feminine floral waft of your perfume in combination with the hot cinnamon of the Fire Whiskey. And though it only made him yearn more, it was heaven. 

He was all too happy to have you this close rather than you being so far away in France. He was happy to have you home. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” He asked. “George’s bed will be empty, of course.” 

He added on that second part quickly - he wanted you to feel comfortable, didn’t want to put any pressure on you to keep up this closeness, even if you seemed cuddly and affectionate because of your drunken state. 

Originally, you had been planning to get a room at The Leaky Cauldron, but the twins’ shop had been your very first stop, and they had torn your suitcase out of your hands to bring it upstairs for you, so it was currently sitting off to the side of the lounge with your coat draped over it. And you never did get that room. Now, you realised it was laughable to think that you’d be staying anywhere but with friends, especially with the Molly Weasley hospitality baked right into them. You had to assume that even if George wasn’t at Katie’s, he would have slept on the couch so that you could take his bed anyway. 

“Freddie, you know, I don’t think I’m going to get very far.” You said. “You - you got me pretty d-drunk.” 

Fred smiled to himself. “Ah, I see. Once again, it is all my fault.” 

It was something you did at large during your days at Hogwarts. You blamed him for yourself being late to class, you getting detentions, the few times you had ended up on Molly’s bad side. When in reality, you had always been a cheerful, willing participant in their chaos, you had always ‘blamed’ him for dragging you into it. But it only made him tempt you into more trouble. 

“It is,” You sighed, turning your head to give him a wide grin. “You always g-get me into trouble.” 

Fred let out a quiet laugh at this, and you laid your head on this chest once again. The two of you mulled in the comfortable silence for a few moments before you thought of something. 

“You know, this-s reminds me, of - of the first time you got me drunk.” You told him with a laugh. 

“Oh, god, back in sixth year?” He posed, returning to the memory himself. “That was epic. I still don’t know if I’d call it an epic disaster, or epic fun.” 

“Bit of both.” You mumbled quietly. “Always is with you.” 

Sitting there, curled up next to the lovely warmth of him, you remembered the night so fondly. 

… 

Leave it to Fred Weasley to pull you out of bed at half past two in the morning with no solid explanation as to why, aside from ‘we have plans’. 

When you asked him why he couldn’t conduct those plans with George, as he usually did, he simply smirked and said that George had plans of his own. Which deeply worried you - but you tried your best to ignore it. You knew from experience that Fred wasn’t a walking troublemaker all the time. 

In fact, the events of just a short week ago had proven that to you. He had invited you to the Yule Ball (as friends, of course) and the entire evening had been absolutely pleasant. No pranks - no water balloons, no coloured dye, no buckets of feathers, no charmed objects, no floods. It had been nothing but a delightful night of dancing and chatting with your friends. 

Even now, as Fred pulled you into the mouth of a very small passageway that you had never seen before (one that caused you to slump over in order to walk through it), you pulled your scarf tighter around yourself and tried your hardest not to worry about what he might be up to. At the very least, if he was planning something large and disruptive, you would know about it, so that you wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

He had told you that these ‘plans’ involved going outdoors, so you had bundled up well, because there was still quite a few feet of snow outside and it was chilly, seeing as it was so late at night. But you hadn’t expected it to be so damn cold, walking in a random mystery tunnel underneath the school. Again, you had no clue where he was taking you or where the thing even led - you were simply glad when it became tall enough for you to straighten your back up. 

“Where are we going, Fred?” You demanded harshly. 

“You’ll see.” Fred told you, throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder at you as he continued to lead you forward through the darkness - the light of his wand being the only thing leading the way in the musty old tunnel. 

“Nothing good ever happens when you say those words.” You replied, heaving a deep sigh. 

“Well, perhaps, you could keep your mind open this time.” He said brightly. “Loosen up. Be open to all the possibilities that the universe has to offer you,” 

You rolled your eyes at this. He was trying to direct your attention away from whatever scheme he had planned, that much was immediately clear to you. 

“Is this an escape tunnel out of the country because you finally did something bad enough for your mother to kill you?” You joked. “Let me guess, you’re meeting George in Germany? What was it that finally pushed her over the edge? Did she find out that you two took bets at the World Cup? Did she find out about the-?” 

Your words were abruptly cut off when Fred tapped his wand on the wall in front of him. It was a seemingly a dead end wall made of stone, keeping the two of you trapped at the end of the tunnel. But when he whispered some incantation under his breath, the stone began to grind loudly and it parted ways - letting in a gust of cold air from the outside, revealing the way out. 

Fred stepped forward and you continued to follow him. As the stone grinded closed behind the two of you (now disguised as nothing more than a large, natural boulder) you gaped with shock as you saw a cluster of lights just down the hill and you quickly realised what it was. 

“Hogsmeade.” You declared quietly, entirely shocked that you had walked through a dirty tunnel and ended up here. 

Somehow, without getting caught - without setting off any charms that should supposedly be in place to keep the students on the school’s grounds. 

Fred nodded proudly, grinning at you.

“How-?” You gaped. 

“I have my ways, don’t I?” Fred said, his chest visibly puffing out with pride. 

You decided not to question it. Especially because you fully understood it now - Fred was bored, he knew a way out of the school, and he simply wanted to have fun in Hogsmeade instead of laying in bed that night. 

Fred took a hold of your hand as the two of you walked into town, and you took a quiet joy in observing Hogsmeade at night. Quite a few of the shops were closed, due to it being so late, which did make you wonder why Fred had even bothered to bring you there. 

But he soon answered your question when he brought you to The Three Broomsticks - which was lit up, bustling and lively at this time. You knew that the front door was enchanted to alert the owner of underage wizards trying to pass through at certain times. Before you could even wonder what Fred’s plan was for that one - he led you around to the back, and he caught the back door out of someone’s hand as they ran outside and began puking in a snowbank, obviously unable to handle their liquor. 

The two of you slipped in the back door completely undetected, seeing as it didn’t have those same enchantments to alert the owner of your presence. You began tingling with the glee that you always wore whenever Fred pulled you along to perform some mischief. You felt so joyous when you paired up to share wicked secrets with him. Fred had a talent for getting away with things (and other times, he so fabulously didn’t) - but he got away with a lot more than anybody ever realised, right under their noses. You felt clever just being around him most of the time.

With all the confidence in the world, still holding your hand, Fred pushed past some other rowdy patrons and waltzed right up to the bar. He tossed down a few Sickles (bet money that he and George had won from the World Cup, you could guarantee) and you couldn’t help but to grin at him as so confidently placed an order. 

“Two Fire Whiskeys, please.” He announced, never once skipping a beat or faltering as any other underage person in a bar would. 

It was strange to say, but Fred wore playful deception so well. You knew that you were staring at him with intense attraction written all over your face as you admired his antics. You simply hoped that he wouldn’t catch the love dopey look on your face and call you out on it. 

“Coming right up, love-” Madam Rosmerta began to comply with his request without issue, but she took pause when she looked up from drying a glass with a rag long enough to truly look at the two of you. 

That was the moment you thought it was over, for sure. You thought that she would send an angry owl up to Hogwarts, and the two of you would be done for. You began to imagine what kind of sick and twisted punishment McGonagall would have in store for the two of you - scrubbing cauldrons for weeks, trimming all the grass on the Quidditch pitch with scissors. 

But somehow, Fred was a lot more clever than that. He wasn’t going to give up and simply let himself be caught. 

“Aren’t you two a little… young to be in here?” She posed, glancing between the two of you and then looking back toward the front door, as though she was expecting the enchantments to suddenly begin wailing to alert her to a couple of underage wizards in the pub. Even though the two of you had successfully made it all the way over to the bar without that happening. 

“Young?” Fred scoffed, putting on his very best tone of fake offence. “Honestly, woman, why would a couple of kids be in a pub at three in the morning?” 

Rosmerta raised a brow at him, making it clear that she didn’t buy this - at least not yet. 

Your stomach curled with nerves, and you tried your hardest not to show it on your face. You knew that this would either end in a spectacular punishment, or Fred would pull off one of his greatest hoaxes yet. 

“Perhaps you might recognize us from when we were Hogwarts students,” Fred shrugged, trying his best to sound casual. “But we graduated year before last. And we just got off a very long shift with the Department of Cursed Objects, and we would simply like a drink.” 

“Yeah, that last one was a doozy.” Your tongue moved before you gave it permission, and you found yourself leaning on the bar as you added onto Fred’s lie. “We had to hunt down this set of silver teaware that poisoned anyone who drank out of it. They were spitting up blood, and rotting from the inside out, choking on their own-” 

“My apologies.” Rosmerta said, giving a curt smile. Clearly, she was increasingly uncomfortable with the graphic nature of your made-up story, and simply wanted you and Fred out of her way. “You must be right. The students from the school all start to blend together after the years. How ‘bout that drink then?” 

She turned to grab a pair of non-cursed glasses, and when you glanced over at Fred, he was grinning widely at you. 

“Good one.” He whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you at the feeling of his hot breath on your neck. If asked, you would say that it was caused by the chill of someone opening the door, and not caused by your unbearable attraction to him. 

When the drinks were placed on the bar in front of you, Rosmerta scurried off to attend to someone else. You picked up the glass that was half filled with the amber liquid, feeling intense victory and satisfaction flowing through you. In a predictable pattern, you and Fred gently clinked your glasses together. 

But rather than making a congratulatory toast in celebration of getting away with the lies, you grinned widely at him as you said this: 

“You’re a menace to society, Fred Weasley.” 

“You love it.” He replied easily, giving you a cheeky wink as he tossed back the liquid in one clean gulp. He winced slightly and sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. But it was clearly not his first time drinking, and you had to guess that Bill was the one responsible for that. 

Wanting to match him, you did the same - you tipped the glass back, letting all of the liquid slide past your lips and down your throat in one go. It burnt sharply in a way that you absolutely weren’t expecting, and you began coughing and sputtering, giving away your amateur nature in one glance. It was lucky that Rosmerta wasn’t looking. Fred rubbed your back soothingly, though he did take a moment to laugh at you. 

“Burns, doesn’t it?” He chuckled. 

“You c-could’ve warned me.” 

… 

A short while later, the burn of the alcohol was certainly no longer a concern for you. You supposed that was part of the point - if booze made you drunk and detached from yourself, they didn’t have to make it taste good. Because after a while, you just didn’t taste it. 

You and Fred were three rounds deep, and even though he was matching you drink for drink, he was far more composed than you were. He hardly seemed drunk at all, other than the cute way he giggled at your jokes. Perhaps it was because of his height, or his Quidditch playing muscles, but he was handling his alcohol surprisingly well. 

You, on the other hand - you were properly sloshed. 

You had shed most of your winter clothing and spread the pieces haphazardly around the table that Fred had sat the two of you at. And you were currently trying to balance one of the empty shot glasses on your forehead - just to prove that you could, while Fred watched on in amusement. 

Of course, he was partially amused by your drunken antics, and partially watching your cleavage threaten to burst out of your tight, V neck tee shirt as you arched your back furiously, trying to keep the glass balanced there. Since you had shed off your jacket and thick jumper, this was what you were left in, along with your tight jeans and boots - and Fred found that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. 

“See! Told you I could do it!” You cheered, proud of yourself as you finally reached up and took the glass down, and then moved back to sit in your chair in front of Fred. 

He couldn’t help but to smile at you. Honestly, he would never doubt you in anything you set your mind to. If you said that you could walk up walls or make Snape dance a jig, he would simply wait to watch it happen. 

As he watched your proud smile and the way that the slightly drunken confidence caused you to sit up a bit taller, seeing the light from the fireplace gently kiss your skin - he was reminded of why he had brought you here in the first place. He let the alcohol in his own system give him courage (something that had been built into the plan) and he reached across the table, grabbing your hand gently with both of his. 

The suddenly serious look that befell Fred’s face surprised you. That sense of surprise only grew when he took hold of your hand. He had more than captured your attention as he began to speak. 

“Y/N, there’s something I really need to tell you.” Fred announced, his voice taking on a very rare serious quality. 

It was something you had only heard from him when he talked about the possible ways to fund his joke shop or when you had fallen off a broom playing Quidditch at the Burrow and he had been worried about you being hurt. You nodded, stunned into silence, wondering if this meant bad news coming, eager for him to continue. 

“Y/N, darling, you truly are the most amazing thing in my life.” He said, giving a small smile. Hearing this made your stomach tingle - it made the clasp of his hands around yours feel warmer. “You are so utterly brilliant. And you’re funny, and you’re the only girl I know who actually laughs at the stupid pranks I pull. I absolutely love spending time with you. I genuinely can’t imagine my life without you. So much so, that-” 

“Hello, sweet thing.” 

Fred’s words were disrupted by a deep voice, someone behind you who grumbled out these words and then let out a low whistle. 

It took you a moment to realise that it was even directed at you. But when Fred’s face switched from that sweet smile to a harsh glare - a look that was rare for him, you followed his intense gaze over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. 

It was a group of three men, much older than you, greasy-haired, wearing dark cloaks - staring at you like a pack of coyotes would stare at a hunk of fresh meat. Their gaze immediately made you feel naked, and though you were blazen hot, between the Fire Whiskey coursing through your system and the heat of the fireplace licking at you nearby, you had the urge to grab your jumper and pull it on over your head simply so that they would stop looking. 

“Now what is a pretty thing like you doing in this dirty old pub?” One of the men asked, his voice feeling filthy in your ears and causing your spine to curl with disgust and something that you would hesitate to admit was fear. “Surely you must be lost, sweet thing. Need someone to show you the way home, then?” 

You quickly jumped out of your chair and moved around the table to Fred’s side, where he had risen and easily swept you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. In a moment, you felt safer under his protective touch as he continued to glare at the men. 

“Bugger off, then!” Fred ordered sharply. 

“Oh, ‘bugger off’,” One of the others mocked Fred’s words in a whiny tone - clearly they didn’t take him seriously because he was obviously younger, even if he was quite tall for his age. 

“What are you, her little boyfriend?” Another one of them joked. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Fred stated confidently, tossing in the obvious lie. “And I can tell you that brushing your teeth is one of the first requirements to getting a woman of this calibre,” 

You resisted the urge to laugh at how his statement made their faces immediately meek and embarrassed. 

“Well, if she wants a real man, that’s up to her to decide.” The man said gruffly. “Innit, princess?” 

When he tossed out the nickname, you felt bile curl in your stomach, and it took you only a second to move when Fred uttered his next words to you. 

“Grab your coat. We’re leaving.” 

You scrambled around the table to get your jumper, mittens, hat, scarf, and your coat. As you were reaching across to one of the chairs to grab the last item, one of the men actually had the audacity to grab your wrist, stopping you from pulling back with the item in hand. 

“If the girl wants to stay and have fun, that’s her choice.” He grumbled. 

You wanted to tout that no, your idea of fun wasn’t hanging around men like this, but your voice was shrunken down into your throat with fear. 

His grip around you was stiff and painful, and you immediately looked to Fred - whose jaw was set with a seething anger that you had only seen in him once before (when Malfoy had dared to insult Ginny right in front of him). He reached one hand into his pocket and leaned on the table with the other hand. 

The man still didn’t let go of you, and you wondered if Fred’s hand was sitting on his wand in his pocket. 

“Listen, bud, I don’t speak troll, so I’ll say this very slowly for you,” Fred announced, his voice dark with anger. “Let. Her. Go.” 

The man immediately became outraged at being called a troll, and he moved his hand off your wrist, curling it into a hefty fist that he moved to swing at Fred’s head. 

Fred ducked out of the way seamlessly, and you pulled your coat into the pile of clothes at your chest as Fred’s hand came out of his pocket with a lump of something black that looked almost like ordinary coal. He tossed it down to the floor and it exploded into a cloud of pure, thick darkness. Before you could truly comprehend what was going on, Fred’s comforting arm was around your shoulders, guiding you back out the back door of the pub. 

You were thankful to be surrounded by cool air, the anxiety unwinding around you as Fred guided you away from the scene. 

“Freddie, that was amazing!” You gasped, more than happy to praise him for saving you from those creeps. 

You trudged along through the snow, incredibly chilly now that the wind kissed your bare arms and you held your jumper and your jacket rather than wearing them. But you were distracted from that feeling as you stared at the pub. You heard muffled coughs and voices loudly complaining, and as you circled around to the front, you saw the dark smoke overtaking any light that was inside, so much so that it began to pour out from the chimney and leak out of the cracks around the front door. 

“What was that?” You had to ask, looking on in pure curiosity of the concoction that he had released into the pub. 

“...new product George and I have been working on,” Fred admitted, his voice quivering with nerves slightly as he heard the coughs and sputters from inside. “Should probably adjust the size of the pellets, though. That was a bit… much.” 

“Everything about you is ‘much’, Fred.” You said, still feeling that beautiful drunken warmth. It morphed into pure admiration toward him that you could hardly hold back. “That’s what makes you great.” 

Fred chuckled at this. 

He helped you get dressed back in your warm clothes, and the two of you walked back to the castle through that secret tunnel once again. He never quite built up the courage to get back to that topic he had so badly wanted to discuss - the entire reason he had taken you to Hogsmeade in the first place. But he basked in the simple joys of the night as the two of you talked in the Gryffindor common room and eventually, you fell asleep cuddled up to his chest while lounging on a couch in front of the fire. 

… 

Now, all these years later, curled up on the couch with him much like you had been that night - you finally realised what he had been trying to say. 

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly, opening your eyes and sitting stark upright. 

Fred was surprised by this, seeing as he thought that you were starting to fall asleep on his chest. He had been sitting there quietly, mentally debating if he should levitate you to bed or risk the neck cramps of sleeping upright on the couch himself. 

“What?” He asked quietly, feeling entirely clueless. 

“Oh. My. God!” You screamed, jumping off the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at him. 

“What? What?!” He asked, the word growing in volume and sense of alarm in his mouth the longer you went without telling him what was wrong. 

“That day - that day-” You were struggling to gather your thoughts into words, a drunken slur still slightly evident on your tongue. Though the anxiety and panic that had suddenly set in had woken up quite a few of your senses.

“What? What day?” Fred parroted back, even more confused. 

“That day.” You repeated, pressing emphasis on the word. “That time, back in sixth year, when we snuck out to Hogsmeade.” 

A look of dawning came across Fred’s features, and he became more sullen than you had ever seen him. It was something that punched you sharply in the chest as the realisation hit you even harder now. 

You had been so stupid. How could you not have known it back then? 

“You… you were gonna confess your feelings to me.” You said quietly, almost afraid to speak the words aloud. 

Perhaps he could have saved himself some pain if he lied, but he saw no good sense in denying it. 

“Yes.” He said quietly, unshed tears scraping the inside of his throat. 

“What-?” Now it was your turn to gape with confusion. “Was that the only time? Why then?” 

“That certainly was not the only bloody time.” Fred chuckled, the laughter sounding heavy and dark in his throat rather than joyous and light as it usually did coming from him. “I tried about a million other times before then - at the Quidditch World Cup, before we ran into your cousins who just so desperately needed your attention. On the train that year, before Katie burst in and stole you away to chat on about what a great summer you had. I thought perhaps you’d get the bloody point when I asked you to be my date to the Yule Ball.” 

It felt as though an icy shard was shoved right through your heart. 

You had been so stupid. 

“I - I thought you asked me to go as friends.” You told him, entirely honest about your viewpoint. 

“Well that just makes me feel like the biggest arse in existence.” Fred shrugged. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You barked out, feeling an intense frustration rush over you. 

You felt indignant, annoyed. You felt like something had been stolen from you - information, time that you should have spent with Fred as your boyfriend rather than the time you had spent simply wishing he was. 

Fred scoffed at this, clearly hurt. 

“Well, Y/N, at a certain point, I lost my balls!” He shouted back. That was a harsh thing to imagine - Fred Weasley losing the courage to take a risk. “I thought that after all the damn interruptions, the universe just didn’t want you to know that I’m hopeless bleedin’ in love with you.” 

Your throat clenched up when he said it in the present tense - said like he still had those feelings for you. You wanted so badly to say it back, but your voice was caught in your throat for a harsh moment. It caused a pitiable silence over the room that made him rush to continue.

“Honestly, I thought - I thought it might be different after you left.” 

He said quietly, his voice breaking around the words slightly. 

“I thought that not seeing you every day… that I might be able to forget how I felt. But it only got worse. I thought about you every single day, and I missed you so badly. And now that you’re standing here in front of me - now, you’re not just some girl I fancied in school, now… you have turned into this magnificent woman that I love. And it would be my biggest regret if you didn’t know that.” 

Fred confessed, his words so passionate that it caused tingles down your spine, and goosebumps across your arms. 

“But you’re probably so drunk that you won’t remember this in the morning, and there’s probably some French arsehole named Pierre waiting for you-” 

“There’s no one else.” You quickly blurted out, suddenly finding your voice. 

Your body finally caught up to your mind, bursting with the urge for him to know this. 

“It’s always been you, Fred Weasley.” You announced, your words slicing through the air like a diamond cutting through glass. 

His eyes lit up and this, and he stared at you with the slightest bit of hope dancing across his features as he waited, holding his breath for you to possibly confirm the thing he had been dreaming about for years. 

“And I certainly won’t forget this. No booze or potion - nothing could make me forget you saying the words I have always wanted to hear.” 

You reached out and took a tight grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you with force - you slammed your lips into his, finally doing the thing you had been dreaming of since you were a teenager. He let out a moan as you kissed him with as much intense passion as he had put into his words. Right as his tongue snaked toward your lips, you pulled back for a breath, and simply for good measure: 

“I love you, Fred.” You breathed out. 

“Oh, thank Merlin.”

[daryascurse]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 - 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐡𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

He kisses against the back of your neck in a way that makes your shoulders squirm, lets his tongue wash over your skin, sticky and tepid in comparison to the silky warm water enveloping the rest of your body.

“Excuse me,” comes the call of the innkeeper from somewhere behind the rocks. “I’ll lay out dinner now.”

You try to hide your breath under Shigure's, hands scrambling against the ground. One hand splashes into a puddle, and you whimper again just as he pushes his hands on your back. He clears his throat to mask the noise, but doesn’t cease his movements. He carefully leans forward just over your back once more. The strength pushes your stomach into the stone, and he breathes his words to you: “open wide.”

Shigure lets his fingers roll into your mouth, index and thumb hooking from your lip to chin. His next, jagged order of, “suck” is unnecessary.

ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

pov : second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns ✧ tags: smuτ, light dοm/ sub (dοmιnant Shigure Sohma), water, semi-public, thigh-fuckιng, fιngerιng, biting, spanking, sεx ✧ word count: ~4.7k ✧ ao3 link ✧ recommended mood playlist: marzipan

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Author's note: While I try to keep my work as close to canon-compliant as possible, this does require that Reader is aware of the Sohma curse (and somehow… not punished for it, or at least not yet), so that both parties do their best to avoid, well, a literal dog. Side note, it’s very hard to write sex and avoid embraces. Also, I tried to make this as close to an authentic onsen experience as possible, but - we all know Sohmas can just make anything work for them they want, so, that's my excuse for crafting this very unrealistic situation.

Spring hangs heavy in the late evening air. The blooming florals along the mountainside create a perfume so heady you can taste it on your tongue, just as the wind breezes through with a sting to remind that, no, summer isn’t quite here yet. Purple stains the horizon as the sunset settles. You shiver, sinking further into the steaming pool of the onsen, watching ripples curve along the surface.

“How’s the water?” comes the call from the other side of the inn’s wooden door, and it makes you shake in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature of the air or the hot spring.

“It’s wonderful,” you say back, turning to peer through the rising steam to the hands of the clock above the bathing stations. Five more minutes. He must be getting impatient.

“Perfect,” he says, and just as you began to lean back against the rock, the sliding door opens. You jolt forward, knees raising and breaking the surface of the water, heart suddenly pounding at the sharp sound.

“Oh,” you say, and in the moment of blustered surprise, you find yourself choosing to lean forward and cover yourself with the black glass of the water. Shigure Sohma, yukata untied and held closed only by a casual palming of his hand over his hips, walks towards the pool.

“I – sorry, I thought we said, um…”

Panic clouds your mind at the smirk rising easily to his otherwise impassive face, and you try to shrink further into the water. Shigure cocks his head to the side, eyes gleaming, giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you manage at last, casting your eyes down to look frantically for your own covering at the edge of the rocks. “I thought we’d said I’d have the bath for half an hour before you came in. Am… did I remember wrong?”

“No,” Shigure says, smoothly, and he lets go of the untied yukata, hand moving in your periphery vision. The folds begin to drape open. “But isn’t it nicer to bathe together? Isn’t it more awkward to play prim and proper and trade off like an old couple?”

The flush rises under your skin, nothing to do with the heat of the hot spring, and a strange, fearful thrill goes through you when he says the word couple - though he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t mean it like that. Shigure may be able to keep you so easily on his leash, but you aren’t stupid.

Not stupidly hopeful at least.

You begin to relax, slowly, letting your feet settle off the seat and back down into the soothing water. “But won’t the innkeeper disapprove, even in the private bath?” you ask, one last attempt at propriety. "I thought co-ed bathing was only allowed if we have bathing suits."

He gives you a side-eye glance, an amused smile pricking at his lips as he turns slightly to shrug the yukata from his shoulders. “My dear, haven’t you learned by now not to underestimate the power of the Sohma name?”

Especially the Sohma money. It doesn’t need to be said. "So this is another family business," you say, feeling the water lap at your shoulders.

“Relax. You know it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says as he begins to pad closer to the water. 

It makes you flush more, the heat pounding acutely in your face. “I think the water’s getting too hot,” you say, and you aren’t faking the faintness that creeps into your tone.

Shigure steps into the water. His skin is shaded grey in the falling sunset. His frame is lean but toned, with shadows of muscle lines on his thighs visible through the steam and dim twilight.

“Is that why your face looks so warm?” he asks, and his voice is dangerously soft. “I don’t think so.”

You turn your face away. Sweat is beginning to bead across your forehead, and he’s right, it has nothing to do with the heat of the pool. And he’s also right that it’s absurd to be shy, when you’re so used to being with him like this, when you’re so used to his demanding desires. You fight the urge to rub your legs together, to press against that growing heat under his eyes.

He terrifies you, intrigues you, owns every part of you whenever he wants to.

“You just surprised me,” you say lamely.

“Come here,” Shigure says in that terrible voice, a voice that shakes you and that you can’t turn away from. You extend your arms into the water, staring at the ripples disappearing across the black surface, and turn towards him. The light smirk has dropped from his face, his eyes glinting iron, his chest rising and falling easy in the water.

The two of you are silent for a while. You let yourself float a little closer to him, and turn your eyes back to the circle of rocks around the spring, breathing shallowly in a pocket of cool air. The steam is thick, rising slowly, languid, from the pool. You stand facing each other, feet flexing unconsciously against the ground and pushing through the water. The lanterns glow, nestled in little wires among the stone gardens. In the thick of the pool, something stirs against your leg, and you look up at Shigure. He’s gazing down at the darkness settling over the mountainside view. His fingers twitch and elbow slightly bends, stroking your thigh, and he turns his head to you.

“You’re so soft,” he says quietly, and it’s almost genuinely kind.

“This is a lovely hot spring,” you say, and his fingertips graze over your skin again. It’s the same; you can barely feel a difference between his flesh and the water, the velvety moisture of minerals tempering even this cold man.

“The water is nice,” Shigure agrees, and he tilts his head against yours. You close your eyes and sigh, his breath beating into your neck. The steam rises over the two of you like an embrace, and your hands stir in the water, helplessly unable to fling your arms around him.

His head leans almost into your neck, chest so close to yours that you can feel his body heat even without that forbidden touch. He slides his hand along your thigh, higher, and you clench when his hand urges your legs to part. You bend a knee forward, almost between his, clenching your useless hands into fists.

“Oh!”

You let out a quiet gasp, and Shigure hums as his finger slips right between your folds. His skin is hot to the touch. A fluid thicker than the water begins to cloud and gather where his fingers meet your body, sliding with the movements over your cunt.

“This is nicer,” Shigure breathes, and his fingers turn, dancing along you as he strokes up. “I don’t know why you always try to play so hard to get. Doesn’t this feel good?”

Your guard is completely down, and you nod, moaning when he rubs against your clit. His head turns, hair tickling rough along your cheek, and his tongue dances light circles across your throat in a matching rhythm of his fingers. Your knees begin to shake. 

“You’re controlling yourself well,” Shigure says. His words are a murmur on your skin. “But I can feel how hot you already are.”

“Shigure…”

You reach forward, blindly dancing your fingers along the water, and feel his cock begin to rise. He rolls his tongue in another circle along your throat and closes his lips. It’s insistent, endless movement on your skin. He sucks as you stroke him.

“I knew you were eager,” he says heavily when he breaks from the love bite. “I told you, I don’t know why you act coy.”

You moan, his fingers tightening to roll in a small circle right over your clit. You begin to move faster, the hand wrapped around his cock bringing it to the surface with nonstop motion. Water slides between your fingers, and something smoother begins to come as well.

Shigure sighs, and lifts his head from you. You open your eyes, vision briefly spinning in the steam and heat, and see only the hollow of his throat and chest centimeters from yours in the dim dusk, as he kisses your forehead. His hand stills between your thighs and rises, wiping against your hips and stomach. Your own strokes falter, and you let him go as he steps away.

“Get over there,” he says in a husky whisper, turning his head. You follow his gaze to a curve of the pool behind a larger wall of rocks.

“It’s cold,” you say, straightening your shoulders as a gust of wind blows over the spring.

Shigure’s hands move to your waist, gently but firmly turning you towards the pointed direction. “No, no, we’ll stay in the water. Just do what I tell you.”

The silky command sends another thrill through you, and you let his hands fall to your hips and move you towards the wall. Behind this half-cover of rocks, the water is shallower. You shiver as you rise partway from the pool, stomach, hips, completely bare, as the water laps only just above your knee. But Shigure’s hands are commanding, hard on your hips, sliding back up along your ribcage with the lightest of touches. His breath is hard on the back of your neck, hissing, and you wonder if he enjoys watching you shake.

“Lean over.”

Bending over like this is humiliatingly exposing. The water moves tauntingly against your thighs. Droplets on your hips, on your ass, dry quickly under Shigure’s hands as they draw together, stroking down your back, urging you lower to the stone. You hesitantly slide with him, hands on the outer edge of the spring, so cold as the wind whips up through the mountain again, but here so low to the ground, the boulders hide you from the gleaming windows and sliding doors of the inn.

“Good girl,” says Shigure, his voice thick. His hands slide further down, all you can feel of him, and you moan when he sweeps over the curve of your ass. He pauses, squeezes you, a rough massage. When you let your breath relax into a sigh, he lets go, spanks you sharply. You yelp.

“You’re loud tonight.”

“Sorry.” You barely choke the word out, but that’s when the side of his hand slides between your thighs. Your feet totter, scraping against the bottom of the pool as your stance spreads, and you moan – perhaps again a little too loud. Shigure’s hand drops back to the water, and it’s cold, wet, a rough slide up your inner thigh back to your folds. You feel your back muscles tighten at his touch, at the heat of his hand, of the water, sliding with the slick already gathering at your inner thighs.

“And wet,” Shigure murmurs. His hand pulls away to spread open across your ass, stretching and moving up at your hip, pulling you open. Your knees buckle and you whimper, biting back the cry just as his cock eases its way to your entrance.

“How dirty, you’re already dripping.”

His cock brushes against you, back, and forth again right at your folds, as his hand slides back across your ass. He spanks you again, a slap too harsh to hold back this next yelp. “Please…”

“Looks like I missed,” Shigure says with a contrived air of amusement. He moves further against you. The head of his cock pushes through your slit, grazing barely below you, and his hips press hard into yours for just a moment before he slides back. It leaves your skin cold and wet, your arousal and his precum making a mess right at your inner thighs.

You moan at his ministrations, tensing your muscles in response. He moves slowly, pushing his hips against you again, and the slick slides from you right to the head of his cock. Looking down, panting, you can see the glistening round tip peeking right between your legs, teasing right up against your folds. You twist your hips back. Bothered anxiety rises in you, your cunt throbbing, and you turn your head to look at him.

His face above you is hidden in the cut shadows of moonlight.

“Fuck me,” you hear yourself beg, breathlessly.

“Already?” Shigure pushes against you harder, and when your drop your head again, shivering, you can see his cock come fully below your cunt once more. The sound of his withdrawing is lewd and wet as he rubs his skin along your thighs, and his breath is hot on the back of your neck. “But this feels nice. Just a little more for me.”

You whimper, and he pushes on your legs again before pulling out between them. Somehow, the absence leaves you pulsing harder. You rub your thighs together, but his hand hard at your hip stills your movement. His cock presses to your entrance again.

“Oh,” you force out as quiet as you can, but the second “oh!” is sharp, loud, as he finally slides into you. Your elbows begin to bend, coming closer still to the ground, and Shigure pulls out, thrusts back in, thighs slapping hard into yours. You catch sight of his hands, dripping, clutched right against the edge of the pool’s wall.

Faster, faster, the water splashing around you, up onto the rocky edge. He doesn’t embrace you, doesn’t wrap his arms around you and pull you into the spring. He can’t. But the force of the water splashes terribly loud with each thrust of his thighs, his hips pushing so rough against your own that you gasp each time your body moves, helpless driftwood, into the side of the pool. In the morning, you’ll be as scraped and bruised as if he had flung you into the stones with the full weight of his body.

The sliding door suddenly grates open, and you choke on your next gasp.

"Sorry, I told them to tell us when dinner was ready."

“Shh,” you whine, desperately, as the clatter of sandals comes closer and closer.

But Shigure’s hands tighten on either side of you, knuckles white on the stones against the moonlight. “Then you should keep still,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes back and whimper, sliding a hand to slap on your mouth, but the sound still slips through.

“Did you want to be interrupted?” Shigure says, lowly, and his next stroke pulls out completely before thrusting in with a half-strangled groan, his cock forcing back through your slick, swollen cunt. Your thighs shake.

“No,” you say, turning your face desperately towards him.

The sandals move closer still, and stop.

He doesn’t kiss your mouth, even as the soft sounds come anxiously from your parted lips, but he moves down with those same vicious bites. He kisses against the back of your neck in a way that makes your shoulders squirm, opens his mouth and lets his tongue wash over your skin, sticky and tepid in comparison to the silky warm water enveloping the rest of your body. Right over your shoulder blade, you feel his teeth graze in a light bite.

“Excuse me,” comes the call of the innkeeper from somewhere above the rocks. Your heart pounds, and you resist the urge to crane your head and look for just how close he is. “I’ll lay out the dinner table and futons in your room now.”

“Oh,” Shigure says. You almost feel the laboring in his chest hovering above more than hear his voice as he raises it to respond, “I don’t think we’ll be eating in the room after all.”

“Of course, sir. Our pleasure. Please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk if you require anything else.”

You try to hide your breath under his, hands scrambling against the ground. One hand splashes into a puddle, and you whimper again just as Shigure pushes his hands on your back. He clears his throat to mask the noise, but doesn’t cease his movements. His hips jolt straight into yours, as he leans back, driving his cock deep inside you, and rubs, shifting, as he carefully leans forward just over your back once more. The strength pushes your stomach into the smooth stone, and he just barely breathes his words to you.

“Open wide.”

Shigure lets his fingers roll into your mouth, index and thumb hooking from your lip to chin, and thrusting the other fingers faster and faster with his cock. His next, jagged order, “suck” is unnecessary, as you eagerly strain your tongue against his fingers in a sucking caress.

He rolls his hips into yours again, and your knees go limp in the water.

“You can leave the lights off inside when you’re finished, thank you, again,” Shigure says again, his voice sickly courteous to the innkeeper. A seductive tone hiding pure loathing, painfully familiar to your ears.

“Yes, sir. The dining area will be open for one more hour, if you choose to eat in our restaurant tonight.”

It’s so hard to keep your voice back, even as the sandals begin to retreat, and you whimper around his fingers.

The door slams shut.

Shigure strokes his thumb along your cheek as he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a groan of his own, his knees crashing into yours below the water. “Filthy, filthy girl,” he says, his voice still grating, low and rough as his strokes pick up a fevered pace again. “You should have felt how tightly you were clenching around me when he was here. You can’t stop screaming and squealing, I think you do want to be caught.”

You scramble to pull yourself back on your elbows. With one hand clutched against the rocks, you absently reach back for him with the other before remembering - no - and letting it fall back to the stone. He grunts. Your fingers flex anxiously as his cock rubs through you, with moans of garbled nonsense.

The next thrust is hard, and then Shigure pulls out of you and leaves you unsteady. Your legs tremble, slick and hot, and you’re panting as you turn around. He takes a step back, breathing as hard as you. You swallow, grabbing at the wall in support. It’s hard not to drop back in the water’s buoyancy.

“Move,” Shigure says, dragging his hands around you through the water. In the moonlight, his fingers drip with diamonds as he lifts them to his face, rubbing briefly before pushing up through his hair, gelling back his haphazard fringe. He sighs, shaking his head, and the steel-colored spikes settle into the usual haphazard mess.

You slide weakly to the side, and Shigure moves forward, running his hand along the wall until he moves against the steps half-hidden in darkness. He takes a step, another, and finally turns at the last one. You let your own hands float, your breath mixing with the steam as you watch him. His knees rise above the water as his feet rest on the step below. With another sigh, he leans back on his elbows, hands just barely dipping over the surface as he spreads his knees. One hand reaches forward, and he wraps his fingers around his cock, eyes even on yours as he begins to slowly stroke.

“I didn’t think you were satisfied yet either,” Shigure says.

You shake your head before you realize it, and that smile – that devious, cold smile – settles across his face as you begin to step towards him.

“Ride it,” he says.

The water feels heavy against your body as you push through, the steam and darkness hiding the quiver of your legs. Your cunt aches in the water, the rippled motion of the natural spring teasing whispers of Shigure’s touch swirling over your skin. His eyes drive into yours, haughty, careless, and you almost stop your slow, sliding steps as it sends a cold, anxious shudder through you to your core. It takes strength to walk up the steps yourself and kneel in the water, straddling him with trembling thighs.

“Keep your hands on the rocks,” Shigure warns.

You nod with a faint whine in your throat, rolling your hands on the stone on either side of his shoulders. You hesitate a moment, adjust your grip further, trying to rid the temptation to fling your arms around his neck and pull him to you.

It’s never easy to keep this rule in mind, the most important of all, and harder still when you begin to sink yourself down over his cock. Your hands tense on the stone. The barrier of his knuckles holding himself slides away, and he draws his arms up along the edge of the pool with a harsh moan. His dark eyes, shining and deep as the black water below the moon, never leave yours.

The head of his cock slides into you with ease, but your inner muscles clench so desperately around him that it’s tight, it’s fucking tight, and you groan lightly as you sink fully on him. The weight of the water tugs at you, resistant on your calves, but you fall into the rhythm of the circulating waves and rock against the water without his hands on your hips to control you.

"Ah..."

But the water helps you move fast, the desire and heat within you uncontrollably urging your motions forward. The arousal leaking from you only makes your body squirm harder, the heat of Shigure’s cock and precum sliding down your thigh an enticing urge to keep bucking your hips and ride him. You moan, and he sighs.

“Fuck,” he says, low.

Beneath the surface, his thigh muscles tense, and he begins to jerk his hips up into you just as you come crashing down.

“Oh!”

He forces up harder into you, and you feel your cunt flutter and clench over him at the sudden increase in strength. You almost go completely limp in response. Your hands slide dangerously low on the rock, so close to him, and you swallow thickly to steel your muscles and fuck him right back. Your elbows bend as you push yourself higher up again.

Shigure leans forward with his hands still bracing against the wall and kisses your neck once more, opening his mouth to suck, a ragged love bite as you jolt up and down on his cock.

You groan, your head falling to the side, and Shigure’s mouth follows down your throat. These kisses are rough again. Another scrape of his teeth on your skin and you shudder, bucking backwards in the water away from him. Leaning like this pushes his cock deeper inside, rubbing, hard.

“Shigure!”

He chases you, doggedly, determined, opening his mouth around your collarbone. His tongue laps over the skin, and he sucks hard enough to make you arch your back and push your hips again and again. You shake your head. The steam settling over your body is so heavy, uncomfortably warm against the fire below your belly. “Yes, yes, yes,,” is all you can force out in elation.

And then you scream it – “Shigure, yes!” – when his hand drops, sliding into the water, and pushes once more against your clit. He moves fast, frantic. Slumped back, riding him and moving with the water, you stare dumbly down at his silver fingers in the moonlight, at his thick cock moving in and out of your swollen cunt.

“I’m close,” Shigure breathes, leaning forward. He pushes his forehead against your chest and arches his back away from you. His fingers rub, and you whimper half-formed encouragement in response, tensing your fingers as the urge rises over you once more to rake your fingers through his iron hair and hold him close.

“Yes, yes, fuck…”

Your hips move in tight quick circles, rising off his cock and back into the water, just as his fingers move with you. He pushes his hand against your body and sucks in a hard breath, straightening his shoulders and leaning back on the wall. Between your clenched muscles, you feel him twitch, throbbing hot.

"Mmnn.."

He comes hard, pumping through your body hotter than the bath. Your knees clench, thighs digging desperate into the side of his legs as he rocks his hips firmly up into you. With one last thrust up, he begins to lower, the pressure of his hand lightening from your clit.

You desperately push your hand against his, shaking your head. “Please,” you say, surprising yourself with the boldness, “please, I’m so close…”

Shigure says nothing, but the breath hisses hard from between his teeth. His eyes narrow on yours, and under your hand, his fingers twitch. He presses himself to your clit again, and you moan, riding your hips on him again even as he begins to soften inside you.

Two fingers, rolling in a hard circle, bring you swiftly closer and closer. When you lift your hand back to the rocks, he continues without your guidance. Your mouth is parted, the air around you too hot to fill your lungs comfortably, and your head spins with the heat pressing all around you.

“How do you feel?” Shigure asks, and you shake your head.

“It’s so… hot… it’s so… good…”

“Are you close?”

You can’t even bring yourself to nod anymore eyes rolling back. The stars above you literally spin, so cold and so distant, and Shigure presses against you again.

“Oh!”

Even if you closed your eyes. It would all still be spinning as the tight, hot coil below your stomach finally unravels. It aches to come, as Shigure keeps moving his fingers, coaxing that release from you. You slam your hands into the rocks with a soft cry as they scrape at the heel of your palms and shudder over him. He slows his circling motions as the ripples pulse through you, slower, slower, and receding.

You lift your knees shakily as you slide off him, feeling the mix of fluids slide down your thigh. Shigure slumps with a satisfied groan, submerging deeper into the water. You lean on the wall, sliding onto the lower step as well, letting the spring water rise over your still trembling body. The stars settle, twinkling silver and unreadable above the pool.

It’s a peaceful moment shattered by Shigure suddenly rising, sending droplets splattering through the air as he shakes his head.

“Where are you going?” you ask, slipping even lower beneath the soothing water.

“You heard him, dinner’s only available a little longer.” Shigure speaks casually, so nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just been fucking up into you and rubbing against you clit. He steps out of the pool and you watch water stream from his legs into a puddle as he bends for the forgotten yukata. “I’m hungry. You better hurry up if you want to eat, too.”

“Right,” you say. You begin to push down on the step to force yourself to rise. Shigure has his back to you now, wrapping the fabric around him once more carelessly. He tilts his head back, shaking his hair as water clings to the spiking strands.

No, he doesn’t care if you actually eat now or not.

“Oh,” he adds, thoughtfully. “And I should apologize to the innkeeper after all.”

“I thought the Sohma name was enough to forgive a social faux pas or two,” you say, shivering as you lift yourself from the pool. In the darkness, you squint, scouring for your towel.

“It is, but I think you were loud enough to catch the attention of some other guests.”

The words are cold, but Shigure sounds amused. You pause, reaching for the towel, your blood running colder than the air when you look up and follow his gaze.

High above the hot spring, two figures stand silhouetted in a window. A window that shouldn't look down to the baths, shouldn't be lit like a looming beacon sneering at the moon. But this is, of course, a Sohma enterprise. When Shigure raises his hand, the short-haired one turns away. Surprisingly, the one with long, pale hair waves.

Shigure waves back.

“Yes,” he muses, more to himself than to you as you slowly clutch your towel around yourself, heart hammering in your chest. “I might have to go talk to my cousins later."

fin.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The King of the Forest (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: WerewolfKing!Chan x HumanPrincess!Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Mild Angst | Royalty | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: As a Princess, all you’d ever been deemed good for was doing what you were told and keeping to your role, something that frustrated you beyond belief. It wasn’t until you met that young wolf in the forest that you finally realised there was more out there for you. [You can find a follow-up story here]. Warnings: reader is implied to be chubby/curvy (of course, when is it not atp) · descriptive attributes of the reader are used. such as: exact age & having long hair · themes of misogyny · themes of motherhood/pregnancy · possessiveness · pet names · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: shout out to 🐧 anon for suggesting the idea of WerewolfKing!Chan x Princess!Reader in these two asks. at this point i’m convinced i’ll end up going through every possible iteration of werewolf!chan i can lol. it probably won’t go in the direction it was expected, but i hope some of you get to enjoy it regardless~ special thanks to @cursed-mars-bars & @straylightdream for beta-reading this.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: mentions and depictions of loss of ‘virginity’ · praising (duh) · oral (F.Rec) · unprotected penetration [piv] · probably body worship · marking · breeding · public sex? · cum eating (probably not in the way you expect)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

This was wrong. It was so, so wrong. At least, to the standards of some. 

As a princess, you’d been taught that all you’d ever be good for was marrying you off to a powerful family, to be used as an offering for political convenience and alliances, with no regard for your own wants and needs. That was, of course, as long as you maintained your virtue. Or what your mother referred to as ‘virtue’.

‘No man wants to own an already used glove’, you heard the Crown Prince say once, which sounded just so ridiculous to you. Not only because women were most certainly not pieces of clothing, but also because your dearest older brother had probably laid with dozens of men and women without being married himself.

Hypocrites, all of them. 

“Your–Your Majesty…” You gasped. You could feel blood rush to your head under the devious tongue of the man between your legs. Although, you weren’t sure if man was the right word to use to describe him.

He hummed, effectively sending delicious vibrations through your body that made you whine.

“I told you, pup…” He detached himself from your centre enough to speak, temporarily replacing his mouth with his fingers to rub slow circles on that bundle of nerves between yours legs. “When we’re here, just the two of us, I want you to use my name. Hm?” 

Swallowing the saliva that had collected in your mouth, you nodded.

“Say it, Your Highness. Say it with your whole chest. Relish the fact that only you get to do so”.

The movement of his fingers on your clit had your head spinning, but you needed to comply–you wanted to comply–so, after taking a deep breath, you did. “C–Chris”.

A smile formed on his lips, but it wasn’t smug, nor belittling. It was a genuine smile, one of those that always made him look his age, as if he hadn’t experienced any form of cruelty in his life, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. “Again”. 

“Chris…” You could barely hold eye contact anymore, it was hard to do so when your brain was trying to send you into fight or flight whenever you looked into his eyes–a feeling that completely clashed with the one building in the pit of your stomach due to Chris’ movements between your legs.

“That’s it, pup. So good for me”, you felt yourself flush, not only at his praise, but also because he returned his mouth to your centre to lightly suck on your clit.

If your father knew you were here, laying on the ground, in the middle of the forest, with the Wolf King himself feasting on your cunt, he’d surely send you to a convent to repent. Not only for ‘losing your virtue’, but also for ‘losing your morals’ by giving yourself to what he believed to be a barbaric beast.

You didn’t care, though. You never did.

Your father didn’t know Chris. He didn’t know anything that wasn’t what he’d been taught by those before him, he’d never even bothered to question it. He didn’t know that, in reality, the man you had wholly–willingly–given yourself to, was heaps more civilised than he would ever be.

“Oh…” You brought a hand to Chris’ head to bury your fingers in his hair, shivering not only at the feeling of his plush lips and his wet tongue on your clit, but also at the silky feeling of his dark strands between your fingers. You needed to hold onto something, something that could keep yourself attached to reality while he quickened the pace of his tongue.

In retrospect, you figured it was only a matter of time before you ended up here with Chris. You’d known him since you were a child. The first time you saw him he was but a young pup, a fluffy canine that had found you sitting on the ground, with your back against a tree, sobbing in the middle of the forest after you’d had an argument with your mother.

You didn’t know what he was back then, you thought he was just a regular, maybe overly friendly and domesticated wolf, but after a couple of times of seeing him in the forest, he finally revealed himself to you. You would’ve honestly never expected for an animal to shift into a boy, much less a boy like Chris.

He was so…regal.

As soon as your eyes met when he was in his human form you could immediately tell he wasn’t just some boy–not only because of the obvious furry situation, but also because of the way he carried himself, because of the way he articulated his thoughts.

After a couple of times meeting as just a boy and a girl in the forest, you got to truly learn who he was. The Prince of the Forest, he’d said. His mother led the biggest clan of lycanthropes in the vast forest, a realm that would be his in due time.

Meeting Chris had changed your view on the forest, on what your people said of this place. You’d been taught it was filled with beasts that ate people, that killed people, that deceived people… But when you met Chris, a simple boy who just so happened to also be a wolf, a boy who kept you company and understood you and respected you as an equal, you realised your father and your mother and everyone around you were all just full of shit.

It was fascinating, really. Learning the hierarchical structures of the forest as an outsider… Especially when Chris clearly trusted you enough to confide in you. Which was why, in a cruel turn of fate, by the time you were sixteen, you could no longer go to the forest to meet him.

Your father had noticed you were frequently missing, and one day, while you walked the familiar paths to your usual meeting spot, you noticed someone following you. Thankfully, it all happened before you met Chris that day, but, regretfully, it also meant that you never got to say goodbye.

You often found yourself thinking about Chris after that. Not all day, but almost every day you did. At least once… When you saw your father’s hunting dogs, when you ate something you liked, and even when you started to bloom into adulthood and your dreams bled into images of greens and the feel of smooth skin and warm lips on your own.

For your twenty-fourth birthday, your father had kindly gifted you a betrothed, probably the complete opposite of anything you could’ve possibly wanted. ‘You’re getting too old, my dear. Your younger sister already has two children of her own. It’s time you finally fulfil your duty, aren’t you happy?’

You were not happy, to say the least. You were furious. You’d managed to avoid any arrangements for years, always got the other party to call off the engagement first, but this time it wasn’t working in your favour, they’d have you marry soon after you turned twenty-five. Which was why you found yourself back in the forest. Trying to escape the sombre future ahead of you.

That was how you found Chris again, that was how Chris found you again. After almost ten years. Sobbing on the forest floor with your back against a tree and your head pressed to your knees.

You honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. There was, of course, a small light of hope in you that wished you would, but you never entertained it, it just hurt way too much if you did. However, what you also hadn’t expected, was the hurt look in his eyes, nor the tremble in his voice when he asked you ‘Why did you never come back?’

So, with a tremble of your own in your voice, you told him the chain of events that led to your disappearance. ‘I just didn’t want them to find you, Your Highness. It would’ve gotten both of us in danger’.

You could still remember how Chris cradled your face in his hands that night, rubbing away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks with his thumbs, just as he muttered a very quiet, and very soft ‘Your Majesty…’ 

The confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because he chuckled, offering a ‘It’s Your Majesty now, Your Highness. I’m King now. A lot has happened since we last met. I can tell you all of it, if you wish to hear it, but with one condition… Right here, between us, I’m just Chris, and you’re just you. Just like before…’

Just like before, he’d said… But before you’d never been that physically close to each other. Before, you’d never kissed like you needed each other to breathe. That wasn’t what you did before, but somehow it felt just so incredibly natural, almost as if you’d spent a lifetime doing so.

You did talk a lot that night in the forest, both of you. Chris told you the events that led to his coronation, about the war amongst clans that took his mother’s life as well as many others. A war that, despite the many costs, he managed to win. Just like you told him stories of your own–much less interesting stories than his, to be honest. 

You, also, lost your ‘virtue’ that very same night. You really hadn’t planned it to be that way, it just sort of happened, and you weren’t sure if it was the moonlight shining on you both, or if it was the longing accumulated during those almost ten years spent apart, but, at that moment, there was nothing more that you wanted than to feel Chris’ body against yours.

Any time his lips attached to your skin sparks of pleasure and love ignited within the deepest areas in your heart. It didn’t matter if it was on your lips, your cheeks, your chest, your tummy, your thighs, or between your legs… His kisses steadily kindled the burning flame in the pit of your stomach, making it burn bright just for him.

The pleasure you’d provided to yourself all these years had been nothing compared to how you felt with Chris. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that it was someone else that was stimulating those sacred areas of your body that no one else had ever touched, if it was the fact that you’d been in love with him practically since the day you met him in the forest over thirteen years ago, or if it was the combination of it all that had stars clouding your vision and your heart growing ten sizes in your chest… 

Regardless, you knew this would be a feeling that no one else would be able to replicate, and if there was ever someone capable of it you just didn’t want them. You wanted no one else but Chris.

It wasn’t until he’d finally soiled your tummy with his release, when he had carefully cleaned it off of you and you laid in his arms that you finally told him of your engagement. Maybe it was a bit cruel, you’d admit. To drop such a bomb on him in one of his most vulnerable moments. His eyes clouded with a dangerous mix of pain and sadness and anger.

So much of it all you did get scared for a second. Until he cradled your face in his hands and very confidently said ‘Marry me’.

You were at a loss, suddenly feeling incredibly inadequate to marry a King, even more the Wolf King of the forest. You didn’t know enough of his people, you didn’t know if they’d accept you, if you’d be fit to cater to their needs. All concerns which you voiced to Chris. He’d reassured you that his people were very different from yours, more accepting, and that you were already more than capable of leading, that he’d never wanted anyone else by his side that wasn’t you.

Over the course of a year, you got close and personal with Chris’ kind. It was honestly almost insane, maddening, how these people that shifted into beasts had shown you more kindness than your own kin. It baffled you, knowing how much pain you had endured over nothing throughout your short life when you saw just how much more socially advanced they were. Although you shouldn’t have been surprised, not when these were the people from which the man you fell madly in love with was born.

So here you were, a few days after your twenty-fifth birthday, gone without leaving a trace, just a month before your marriage to Duke WhateverHisNameWas, laying on the forest floor with only a thick coat to protect your back, and a completely different man than the one you were supposed to marry between your legs–but, admittedly, the only man you’d ever wanted.

“Chris, I’m…” You could hardly speak. Tears were collecting in your eyes, you could feel your lower belly tightening further with Chris’ diligent licks and gentle sucks, with the tight grip of his hand on your soft lower belly, and the delicious drag of his four digits inside your walls hitting your most sensitive spots.

Chris hummed in response, picking up his movements, bringing you closer to that satisfying climax you were so desperate for.

Quiet moans spilled freely from your lips once that blinding pleasure consumed you whole. Your thighs trembled, your grip on his hair tightened, and you simply let the feeling overtake every single one of your senses.

When Chris finally detached himself from your sensitive warmth, your body slumped. You were gasping for air a bit, with your eyes barely open, just enough so you could catch a glimpse of the satisfied smile on your lover’s lips before he came back up to connect his mouth with yours.

You sighed, content, looping your arms around his neck as you savoured the unmistakable taste of your pleasure still lingering on his lips.

“Are you sure about this, pup?” Chris asked when he finally pulled back. 

How considerate of him to worry about this now.

“I am. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. Just yours. Only yours”, you replied confidently, because if there was something you believed in right now was just how irrevocably his you were.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his warmth between your legs, as you felt the tip of his length drag along your folds and spread the remnants of your release all over you both. Chris looked deeply into your eyes, looking at you like you mattered, like you were someone truly important, someone he cared for.

“No one else’s”, he repeated, just as he leaned in to connect his mouth to yours again, as he finally started to push himself into you.

You whimpered at the feeling. Not only because of the undeniable stretch, but also for what it represented. What it had always represented.

Chris hushed you softly, attaching his lips to your cheeks so he could press soothing kisses on your soft skin. He took his time, slowly giving you every centimetre of him he had to offer, until he was fully sheathed within your heat. It didn’t matter if you’d done this before, if you’d taken him more times than you could count, having him fully inside was always difficult for the first few minutes, but you never complained, not when you knew just how incredibly good it would soon feel. 

“Can’t promise you I can remain this gentle, pup”, he mumbled against your cheek, just like he often did. He was capable of gentleness, but he was also capable of being incredibly unforgiving, so he always tried to give you a heads up–not like you didn’t know this already. Pressing one more kiss on your cheek for good measure, he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “I’m using every single drop of willpower to not let the beast consume me… But, fuck, you’re just so warm…”

You cradled his face in your hands, dragging your thumbs over his skin, unable to keep your eyes from shifting focus between his eyes, his nose, his lips, the tiny, barely perceptible freckles that littered his cheeks… “It’s okay, my love. Let it consume you if you must. I’m his, too, after all”.

Ever so slowly, Chris finally moved, starting a rhythm, letting you adjust to the movement of his thickness within your walls. With a hand buried in the hair on the back of his head and the other spread palm flat on his warm chest, right over his racing heart, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The movement shifted the angle of your hips, and moans fell from both of your mouths at just how deep inside of you he could reach like this. 

“That feels… Fuck…” He increased the tempo of his hips, eliciting desperate whines and moans from your mouth once he started to fully ram into you. You could feel your breasts bounce with every harsh thrust of his hips, but even if to an outsider it might’ve seemed like he was pushing your limits, this was one of the tamest versions of himself, one that balanced his human needs along with his animal ones fairly well, one you were more than acclimated to.

“Good…” You finished the sentence he’d started, throwing your head back when his cock hit your sweet spot, effectively sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine. “Fuck… There. Right there, love”. 

“Mmm… Here?” With precise thrusts, he repeatedly stimulated those utmost sensitive areas inside your walls, making you lose your train of thought and leaving you no other option but to desperately nod to answer his question.

With a hand next to your head and the other holding on tightly to your hip, Chris kept his steady pace. The nacre moon charm that always hung from the chain around his neck continuously dragged against your chest with every thrust of his hips, the quiet tinkling it produced barely audible among the cacophony of blissed-out sounds he was coaxing out of you, and the ones you were coaxing out of him.

Chris buried himself deep inside you time and time again, until you lost track of time, gradually speeding his movements, increasing the strength in which his hips hit your soft skin.

“Close… So, so close…” He mumbled eventually, and you shivered in anticipation. 

He lowered himself on his elbows, getting close enough to start leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your neck. 

“Do it, Chris”, you whispered in his ear, panting a bit, pressing one of your hands on his lower back. “Mark me, my King”.

Chris groaned, and before you knew it, he was sinking his teeth on the junction of your neck and your shoulder. The sting of his bite quickly shifted into a feeling of unadulterated ecstasy, a feeling of euphoria that spread all throughout your body, dragging searing heat in its wake.

A low, animalistic growl resonated from your lover once he reached his own climax and started to pump you full of him, of everything he had to give. You barely even registered it, too consumed by the pleasure still coursing through your body, by the feeling of his canines still attached to your skin and his unfaltering thrusts.

After a minute, with a grunt, he pushed his hips flush against yours, burying himself as deep as he could inside of you, and his movements finally stopped. His tongue soothed the fresh bite he’d left on your skin, and you shuddered a bit.

His mouth was once again on yours, kissing you deeply, just like he had always been meant to do.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Chris looked you in the eyes, softly caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re all mine now, pup. Mine to keep, to love, to breed. Only mine”. 

“Always have been”, you replied simply, regarding him with a small smile on your lips. 

Chris chuckled, and he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips. 

He finally pulled himself away from you entirely, bringing his hands to your inner thighs so he could keep you fully spread open for him. With his eyes so focused on your centre, you suddenly felt heat creep on your cheeks–a bit of an absurd reaction, considering he’d seen your modesty innumerable times, although never after stuffing you full of his seed. That was a first.

Chris dived in again, and you trembled as you felt his warm, wet tongue lapping up your sensitive folds, gently cleaning you up.

When he was done, he straightened himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling brightly at you. 

You brought your hands to your soft lower belly, just as a bashful smile settled on your lips. “You really think I could…”

You let your question trail off, and Chris chuckled as he brought his hands to your sides. Slowly, he dragged them down to your hips, where he squeezed the plump swell of them. “When I saw you again after all these years, when I saw these hips of yours, I knew you’d be just perfect to carry my pups, love”.

“We might have to give it a few tries, though”, you extended your hand, and Chris immediately took it and helped you sit down. The coat he’d placed on the ground before he laid you on it was soft against your bare skin, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his thoughtfulness.

“Then we’ll try as many times as necessary”, Chris sat with his back against a tree, and pulled you to sit on his lap.

Resting your arms on his broad shoulders, you leaned in for a kiss, and as soon as your mouths touched, he let out a satisfied hum.

“My father is a goddamn fool for thinking he could marry me off to some guy”, you said as soon as you pulled back, burying your fingers in his hair and gently dragging them over Chris’ scalp, making him chuckle. 

He pushed your now undone hair off of your shoulder, exposing the mark he’d left so he could softly trace it with this thumb. The area was incredibly sensitive, and his tender touch made you shiver. “Doesn’t matter now. The second anyone so much as tries to take you away from me will be the moment they draw their last breath. You’re already my Queen, my love. All mine”. 

You leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his lips. Pulling back just a bit, with your mouths barely a hair’s width apart, your lips brushed against his with every whispered word that came out of your mouth. “Yours, my King”.

Maybe if your father had taken you seriously for one second in his life, you wouldn’t have ended up here, married to the King of the forest. But as Chris held you in his arms, and as he eventually helped you re-dress so he could take you to what would now be your forever home, you figured it was best not to dwell on hypotheticals, not when you finally felt this incredibly cared for and so incredibly full of love.

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