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neowinestainedress · 9 months

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between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through.

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you.

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open. You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement.

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed.

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face.

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small.

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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zooone · 10 months

Text

as above, so below

╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.

one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.

all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing

she had a lot of questions about wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"

all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.

to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.

unless he had something to do about it.

he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.

"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"

"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.

"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.

her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.

"why not, wilbur?"

he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.

"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.

he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.

"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"

they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.

he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.

"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.

he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.

but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.

the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.

"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.

"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.

yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.

he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.

he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.

that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.

"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.

"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.

"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.

he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.

"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."

"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."

quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."

wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.

it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.

"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"

he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.

"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.

"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"

"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.

wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.

he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.

he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.

he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.

and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.

the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.

"wilbur!"

and his routine was ruined.

"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"

"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."

wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.

"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.

and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."

wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.

instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.

"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."

wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."

he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"

wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.

he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".

he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.

he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.

he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.

as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.

from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-

"wilbur! there you are!"

he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"

he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.

"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"

before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.

she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"

"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."

she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."

"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.

she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.

what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.

"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.

she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."

wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.

she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.

"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.

"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."

"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.

he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.

"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"

"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.

"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"

he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."

"right now."

as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.

there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.

"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.

"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."

he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"

she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."

he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.

"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.

she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."

the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."

"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"

"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.

he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.

she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."

"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.

"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"

he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.

"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"

why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.

"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"

he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.

"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"

wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.

"it's.. it's fine."

he definitely blundered.

he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.

she leaned forward. "how is it?"

it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"it's.. okay, i guess."

"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"

he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.

"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.

"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."

she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.

there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.

he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.

"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"

at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.

he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.

he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.

he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.

wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.

he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.

he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.

he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.

it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.

he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.

he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.

he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.

wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.

he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.

tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.

"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."

wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.

"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"

wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.

that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."

"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.

"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."

wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.

"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."

he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.

wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.

there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.

shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.

"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"

wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.

"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"

he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."

she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?

"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."

wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"

"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"

"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."

he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.

in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.

the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"

"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.

as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.

it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.

that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?

but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.

it was her flower crown and gummy worms.

wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.

he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.

he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.

but, she still cared about him.

wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.

he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.

he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.

he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.

sure enough, it was from her.

"dear wilbur!

hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.

i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.

it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!

ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"

he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.

it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.

as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.

"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."

"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"

oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?

tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"

"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."

"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"

"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.

"do you have a date?"

wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."

"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"

wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"

"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"

wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.

"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."

tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.

"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"

wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.

he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.

wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.

he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.

he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.

he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.

it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.

he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.

still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.

he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.

his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?

although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.

wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.

"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"

tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."

quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”

“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”

they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.

he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.

“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”

tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”

tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.

quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.

“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”

“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”

“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."

"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."

as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.

“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”

wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.

when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”

“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”

“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”

“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”

“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.

“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”

“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”

“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.

“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”

the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.

“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.

“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”

wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.

his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.

uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.

his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-

"do you have a favorite flavor?"

it all snapped away.

"uh- um, well, um-"

how was she able to do that?

"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."

unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."

"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.

shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"do.. do i bite-"

"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.

god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.

he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.

and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.

he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."

"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.

as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."

"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."

his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.

it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.

and the worst part? she noticed.

"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.

"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."

she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.

wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.

she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.

in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.

"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.

"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"

"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.

his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.

she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”

wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.

he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.

he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.

she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”

her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”

“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”

his heart was wrapped in thorns.

it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.

“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”

her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.

“except for you.”

she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.

“me?” he whispered softly.

immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.

“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”

she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.

“it was all i wanted in that moment.”

his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.

“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.

in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-

“but you always hated me.”

she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.

and the worst part; she was unphased.

wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”

“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.

a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”

“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"

what?

"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”

his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.

she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.

“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.

why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-

oh.

it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.

the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.

his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.

"hello? wilbur?"

"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.

"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.

"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.

his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.

"wilbur-"

"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"

and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.

his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.

he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.

tommy's keycard.

he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.

he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.

he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.

to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.

"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"

"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.

with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"

"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.

she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.

as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.

"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"

his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"

"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."

"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"

she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.

"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"

"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"

at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.

and he almost didn't catch her.

tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.

"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.

"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"

he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.

did he not remember? or did he choose not to?

when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.

"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"

"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"

"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."

"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.

a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.

"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.

and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.

her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.

but what if it really was a trick?

her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.

she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.

she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.

as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.

quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."

his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.

but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.

and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.

wilbur's day went on horribly.

he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.

his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.

work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.

he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.

but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.

"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"

was it?

"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"

it couldn't be.

"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"

he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.

he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.

worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.

she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"

and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.

one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.

unless he's got the courage to do something about it.

11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin

thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned

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tyunkus · 11 months

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all txt members r so cute, but i have them all stuck in my head in different ways like yeonjun fucking your throat while taking a video of you doing it just bc !! and soobin continuously sending you videos and photos of him cumming in ur panties bc u can’t please the poor boy as ur in public, and beomgyu being all tough but then acts oh so different in bed w whimpers and loud moans coming out of him, then taehyun .. i feel like taehyun would fuck you any place he could and when hes out in public w u he teases u like by rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, getting a little too close for comfort tho .. and when i think of kai i think of him trying to be gentle at the start but then has u moaning his name !! or umm .. kai being shy for his size even tho like damn thats the biggest uve seen wtff !!

AHHHHH u have the biggest brain ever anon (more under the cut!)

yeonjun who runs his hand through your hair while you suck him off and thinks to himself wow my girlfriend looks pretty fucking hot. casually taking his phone from the nightstand n starts recording you - youre a fucking vision like this, kneeling between his thighs, hands placed primly on your own while u suck him off T_T and yeonjuns fingers still threaded in your hair and he uses his gentle hold on your head to push you down further n further.. slowly breathing out these scratchy n pitchy moans, the sound of your throat constricting around his dick only riles him up even more

soobins so fucking insatiable ugh! what a needy pet always ruining your panties with his cum and hes not even ashamed, sends you visual evidence while ur out at work or running errands!!! shaky camerawork but you get the gist - soobin fucking his thick cock with his hand, letting out all these wobbly whimpers n pretty noises while he strokes himself to completion right on your pretty lace panties >:( hes so gonna get it later, acting like such a slut in your notifications, so many typos and choppy sentences cuz you know hes fucking himself silly while hes typing them

bratty beomgyu <3 such a pain during the day, teasing you and provoking you in all sorts of ways... sneaky hands drifting up your legs or his lovely lips pressed against your neck before he leaves a bite there..... but even if you scold him he doesnt care, just smirks at you and murmurs, "what're you gonna do about it, princess?" what you'll do is this - straddle his thighs and spread his legs all nice and pretty for you, leave him pretty much unable to move while you set your legs on top of his and start playing with his cock like hes just your plaything! see how he starts crying, so loud and messy, cant even talk properly, your dumb lil pet >:)

taehyun is such a horndog i swear you cannot have even a moment of peace with that man theres always something with him! whether its his hands sneaking up your thighs or his hot breath on your neck or his fingers sliding underneath your panties to cup your pussy taehyun is always up to no good, just loves to rile you up n overstep a line juuuust a little bit, cuz its fun and it always leads to him fucking you someplace where anyone could walk in - maybe with his fingers, from behind and underneath your skirt, or maybe on his cock, against a wall while he leaves marks all over ur pretty skin <3

hyuka trying and failing miserably to be a sweet considerate boyfriend because your tight lil cunt just feels too good :( dont be mad at him okay he cant help it, gets so lost in the feeling, eyes rolled back n head tipped back to expose his throat, you'd think he forgot about you but nope, he still has his clever fingers playing with ur clit :3 oh and seeing his cock for the first time GOD you know how the tips of his ears get red when hes embarrassed yeah he'd look so cute all flushed when you're on your knees in front of him, pumping his cock n telling him how you never thought hed be this big .. <333333

#txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #taehyun smut #huening kai smut #beomgyu smut #yeonjun smut #soobin smut

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haunting-venus · 4 months

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line 'em up and measure ↳ lo'ak sully x male!human!reader

content warnings | smut ( mdni ), characters are aged up, brief description of wounds, slight intoxication, mutual masturbation, literal dick measuring contest, xenophilia ( alien biology ), dirty talk, praise

word count: 3995

notes | this was originally supposed to be for the last day of @eywaite and @tallulah477 romancing pandora event, but life got in the way. still, i couldn't get this out of my head so please enjoy this now !

na'vi dictionary | narlor — beautiful ( visually )

It was stupid—absolutely fucking insane, really—the situation you’ve planted yourself in. You knew you were a trespasser, not looked upon with any grace by Eywa on this exomoon but fuck, this must be some kind of sick joke.

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.” Lo’ak’s cheeks are flushed with alcohol, grin toothy and shit-eating as his knee bumps yours.

You’d come across the Omatikaya purely by chance—a lone xenobotanist presumed dead after the tragic and fiery crash of your research team’s buggy in the depths of Pandora’s forests. You’d been warned about the local indigenous population, of course, and had been explicitly told your group was not important enough to risk more lives should you fuck up this exploration.

No one was looking for you, and you were alone on an alien planet with nothing but a scalpel and a faulty research tablet.

You’d wandered for hours, bleeding and disoriented, ears ringing with the impact of your buggy into the tree and heart pounding in fear at the inescapable situation you were now in. You were certain that you were smaller than anything in this forest, and that your sluggishly bleeding wounds and pounding headache would soon make you easy prey for whatever roamed in these woods.

You’d thought the time had finally come as you gasped against a tree for air, vision blurring with pain as your legs shook with the exertion to keep you upright. The air was rife with beastly screeching, the sound so high-pitched you thought briefly that this might be what death sounds like. The deafening flapping of giant wings had you scrambling to the forest floor, using the last of your strength to move pitifully away from the gnashing jaws of the creature who landed in front of you.

You were able to catch a glimpse of worried golden eyes and a lean blue frame that towered over you before the world slipped into inky blackness.

You’d learned afterwards that the Omatikaya did routine patrols in the areas known to the RDA, scheduled bouts of precautionary scouting should the Earth’s military ever stray too far from their boundaries. Well, you’d strayed a lot, apparently.

The man who’d saved you had carried you in a princess hold before the chief, his strong arm holding up your back and looped under your bent knees. It should’ve been embarrassing, you thought, a grown man having to be carried like a ragdoll by a stranger who was bargaining for your life to be saved. Then again, you didn’t exactly have time to worry about how tough you looked when you were on the verge of slipping unconscious again.

It had taken over a week in the medical care of the nearby human outpost before you were on your feet again, body weak from dehydration and healing minor fractures. The man who saved you, Lo’ak, came to check on you regularly, asking questions about your life and your intentions—how you’d wandered into the Omaticaya borders, why you were traveling in the forest, if you had any trackers on you, if anyone was following you.

After several days of him poking and prodding at you with questions, he returned with a much more intimidating man at his back—The chief, Jake Sully, adorned in ornate feathered regalia and a stern expression.

You knew you were best off telling the truth—you were a researcher with many injuries, nowhere else to go, and of no harm to any of the People. You’d even offered to leave once you healed, return to the RDA encampment with tight lips and fake amnesia, though Jake Sully had quickly brushed that off. It was in the People’s best interest that the RDA never knew you came in contact with them, and the only way you could do that was by never returning.

You were met with a mix of fear and anger from the local population. You were an intruder, an unwanted reminder of just how closely war knocked at their doorstep. It would’ve been easy to feel isolated, a bird without a nest.

Except you were surrounded with the most incredible flora and fauna you had ever laid your eyes on, the lands near the village so much more rife with life than the secluded bases of the RDA. The scientists at the outpost just outside the village welcomed you eagerly, sharing their notes and knowledge and living space with open arms. Then, of course, there was Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was a friend, one of the few that you’d acquired in the months since the crash. Turns out, one of his best friends was a human boy who’d grown up in the labs outside the Na’vi encampments, Spider, so he was neither scared nor angry with you. He was mostly curious, poking and prodding you with questions about Earth and showing you hidden wonders of the Forest when he got a rare day off.

He was also damn beautiful—tall and indigo-skinned, with lean muscles and swirling tattoos over the length of his strong arms and the curve of his ribs. You would be able to get over your little infatuation with some ease, you’d met plenty of good-looking people in your life, except he wasn’t just beautiful. He was fucking kind too, and it drove you nuts.

So yes, Lo’ak was beautiful, funny and kind. He made you feel safe and wanted in a world that wanted to kill you at every turn, and he did it with the most endearingly toothy smile you’d ever seen.

He was also the chief’s son, which made him explicitly off-limits even if you did have any chance in any multiverse of getting to be with him. Which was exactly why you shouldn’t be in this situation right now, lazing together on a couch that is far too small for the two of you, passing a leather flask of pxir that was quickly emptying.

You must have been more drunk than you thought, letting the rogue idea slip between your teeth. It was supposed to be a joke, really—a dumb quip about how much you missed getting dicked down back on Earth. Your options were extremely limited, even more than they had been in the RDA outpost. At least over there there had been some sexually repressed military guys to get it on with. Here, everyone was either decades your senior, or definitely not your type.

“You just need to get some Na’vi cock. It’ll make you forget all about whatever puny action you were getting on Earth, bro.” Lo’ak laughed

You were two young men, tipsy and comfortable with one another, it was completely natural to talk about sex. You knew that the Na’vi were extremely comfortable with sex, seeing it as a connection between life forms, something natural and beautiful. Plus, humans were inherently curious, not to mention repressed and hormonal. You figured that sexual experimentation between the two species was something nearly inevitable.

Still, it made you hot beneath the collar, having Lo’ak’s eyes so keen on you with hazy comfort as he suggests you get down and dirty with a Na’vi. With someone like him.

“Hey, watch how you talk about human cock. I’ve still got one, dude.” You scoff, taking another deep swig of the bitter alcohol. It’s always been so easy this way, hiding your discomfort behind sarcasm and dumb jokes. “Besides, it can’t be all that different.”

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.”

It should be insulting. It is insulting, you tell yourself. That’s why your cheeks flush so devastatingly red, definitely. “Oh, fuck you, pretty boy. If that’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Lo’ak’s eyes glisten with amusement, obviously reveling in the dumbstruck look on your face.

That was another thing you’d come to love about Lo’ak. He was always competitive, even over the stupidest things, even with stuff that will get him smacked or killed. He jumps at any opportunity to prove to himself and others that he was capable and brave. It usually made your heart flutter with admiration, now it just puts you on edge.

“You’re not seriously suggesting to whip it out, are you?” You chuckle

“What, you’re scared I might be right?” He goads.You’re about to deny him, about to insist you’ve had too much to drink when you’re barely even feeling a buzz so you can

Except that Lo’ak is already pulling his hips up from the couch, moving to sit up on the arm of the seat so he can untie his loincloth. His muscled torso stretches while he extends his body, black swirling lines of tattoos he acquired with the reef tribes etched down his ribs and tapering just at the edge of the v-line leading into his bottoms.

It’s completely stupid and irrational. It’s definitely something that could get you smacked or even exiled if people found out. Hell, Lo’ak could never talk to you again if he knew what dirty things were running through your mind. It’s also the start of every stupid, dirty fantasy you’ve been unable to repress for months.

If you were a stronger man, you’d get up and leave. Except, you’re not.

“Alright, pretty boy. Put your money where your mouth is.”

Lo’ak’s grin is a little smaller than before, still confident but edged with something that seems bashful, his tail swinging leisurely behind him. It only takes a few tugs of his practiced fingers for the leather of his loincloth to loosen, then fall to the tiled ground of your room.

You feel ashamed for looking, even though that was the whole point of this stupid competition, if it could even be called that. You try to keep your face neutral as Lo’ak lighty spreads his legs, brows furrowing a bit. The apex of Lo’ak’s legs resembles more of a human female’s anatomy than anything. His skin is smooth, hairless just as the rest of his body, the darker stripes on his skin narrowing to a slit in his crotch

You swallow heavily, tucking one of your legs up to your chest to hopefully obscure the growing bulge in your shorts. You try to keep your voice even, teasing, even as it shakes. “From where I’m standing, looks like there’s nothing to compare, bro.”

“Fuck off, just give me a second.” Lo’ak mutters, cheeks warm as he brings a hand between his own legs. “Only humans are dumb enough to have their shit hanging out all the damn time.”

You’re glad to see a flush on Lo’ak’s cheeks, hear the gruff rasp of his voice. It’s comforting to know you’re not the only one a little affected, and you feel a bit of hope blossom inside your chest.

His fingers move between his legs, parting the slit with soft movements, his fingers shining with slick between his legs as he coaxes the opening open. He keeps his lips tight, chest moving with heavy breaths at each of his own touches.

Your eyes are rapt at his every movement, heart pounding .You briefly wonder if this is how he touches himself when he’s all alone, if he makes the same heavy breaths and twitches of his ears.

It takes only moments for something to begin breaching the folds of Lo’ak’s slit, his breath coming a little heavier. Slowly, a cock emerges from the sheath inside his body, a lighter shade of blue tapering to pinkish at the tip. There’s no balls that follow it, though the base seems a bit swollen as he hangs at half-mast before you.

“Whoa.” You clear your throat quickly, averting your gaze from Lo’ak’s laughing eyes. “Thought you’d be bigger, honestly.”

It’s a big fat lie, and an obvious one too. Even without being fully hard, Lo’ak’s cock almost easily matches the length of your forearm.

“Oh, fuck off. I can smell you, you know. I know just what you think of your first Na’vi cock.” His tone isn’t malicious, just teasing, each word laced with

Your face flushes, fingers twitching anxiously against your thigh that still sits tucked up against you. It’s easy to forget how superior Na’vi senses are when you spend so little time with them, especially outside of the lab. You briefly wonder if Lo’ak has been able to tell every time you’ve felt a flare of arousal in his presence, if he had connected the dots that your brain constantly wandered to your filthiest thoughts in his presence.

He leans forward, pressing one hand on the arm of the couch behind you. He’s close now, his breath near ghosting over your face as his eyes search yours. “Your turn. Not much of a competition if I’m the only one showing off, now is it?”

This is quickly treading into dangerous territory, something that sobers you up quicker than any water of coffee could. Lo’ak’s hand is still cradling his length, just ghosting lightly along the enlarged base as he leans over you with his muscled body. You know you’re hard, can feel the blood rushing from your head to pound between your thighs, can feel your length pressing uncomfortably against the cotton of your shorts. Unlike him, there’s nowhere for you to hide, no way to conceal just how affected you are.

You feel like you’re free-falling, diving head first into all the emotions you’d convinced yourself would be better off tucked away. Part of you wanted to keep it all at arm’s length, to let this be a moment of lust, another memory to be tucked away. The other part wanted to jump in feet first, consequences be damned, fuck the fallout.

You steel your nerves as Lo’ak backs off a little, giving you the space to undo the buttons of your pants. You know you can end this all with a few words, that if it really bothered you Lo’ak would forget this ever happened and never bring it up again, because he was that kind of guy. Except, you’re sure you aren’t imagining the lingering heat in Lo’ak’s gaze, or the excited flick of his tail as his eyes follow the movements of your fingers as you drop your pants.

You don’t need visual confirmation to know you’re already hard and leaking, the tip of your cock red and aching as your fingers ghost along your thighs.

“Looks like I win.” Lo’ak’s voice is breathier than before, his knee brushing against your leg as he lingers closely to you. His hand still sits close to his own cock, which has made no signs of retreating back into his body.

“Okay, you’re obviously gonna be bigger than me. You’re a fucking giant.” Your face flushes, trying to ignore the throb in your cock as Lo’ak’s eyes trail across your body.

“Don’t be so hateful, bro. No one likes a sore loser.”

“Yeah, well, at least I have more stamina than you.” It’s so easy to slip back into teasing sarcasm, like a shield you can put around yourself to keep all the confusing emotions at arm’s length. It helps you feel some control that has been steadily slipping away, grasp onto some sort of reality.

Lo’ak just chuckles lowly. “More stamina? I’m a trained warrior, bro. Stamina is my game.”

You snort, trying desperately to forget the fact that you’re both naked beneath the waist. “You’re the most reckless fucker I’ve ever met. I bet you blow your load in two seconds.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the pent up little scientist. You really think you can last longer than me?” Lo’ak’s voice deepens, one of his hands trailing up across the outside of your thigh as he shadows over you.

“Try me.”

Lo’ak’s mouth is on yours before you have a chance to regret the challenge. He’s so much bigger than you, and the way his entire mouth encompasses yours is strange but not unpleasant. One of his hands eagerly comes up under your shirt and along your ribs, the other holding up his weight on the couch behind you. You run your fingers up along the planes of his body, tracing the ridges of his ribs and the curve of his shoulders, to embed them in your memory.

He gasps as he pulls away from you, his hips dipping to nudge his hardening cock against your hip as he leaves a line of wet kisses from the corner of your mouth to underneath your jaw. You vaguely register his tail thumping excitedly into the plush of the couch, the way his ears twitch forward to catch every hitch of your breathing.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” Lo’ak’s voice mumbles across your skin, canines grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he pushes himself closer to you.

“Touch yourself.” You gasp, tightening your grip on Lo’ak’s bicep as he pushes his hips down into you.

Lo’ak pauses. “What?”

“Come on, you wanted to talk a big game. Let’s see how long you really last.” Your grin is devilish, edged with excitement and desire as you trail your fingers teasingly across the muscle of his arms. You delight in the little shiver that passes through him.

“Wouldn’t you rather be the one to touch me?” His voice is raspy, breathless as he nibbles along the curve of your neck.

“Oh, where’s the fun in that, pretty boy?” You bite your lip in a grin, resting your forehead along his own. “We want this to be a fair trial, and having my skilled hands on you could definitely skew the results.”

Lo’ak laughs, removing his hand reluctantly from your ribs to palm along his own cock. “Fine, no touching. For your results.”

You can feel yourself steadily losing control as you lean back and watch Lo’ak—the way he teasingly trails his fingers down his own chest and across his cock, the little gasp he lets out when he tightens his fingers around the base, the desperate hitching of his hips as he keeps his eyes firmly on you as he works himself over.

Lo’ak’s eyes flick expectantly towards your own hard cock, moaning loud as he finally sees you grip yourself in your palm. You’re so sensitive and it’s been so long, each touch feels magnified with Lo’ak above you, watching your every move with panting breaths. Lo’ak slows his movements on himself a bit, moving to grip himself at the swollen base of his cock. His reaction is immediate, a deep groan vibrating through his chest as his eyes roll a bit.

You tighten your grip on the base, heat shooting through you as you drink in the sounds of Lo’ak’s moans. Fuck, of course he’s loud. Your lips brush against his own as you speak. “Jesus, the sounds you make are fucking incredible.”

A knowing smile reaches across Lo’ak’s flushed face. He parts his lips to run over yours, drinking in the sigh you let out. “Really? Well, you’ve got a pretty incredible mouth too.”

“S-shut up-” You gasp. You know you should go slow because some stupid part of you still wants to win, to make Lo’ak come undone first because of you. Yet, you can’t help the way your fist tightens at each wet little gasp coming from Lo’ak’s mouth, the way your hand quickens around yourself as you watch his pretty cock move through his fist.

“It’s true. You don’t know how many times I’ve done this thinking of your stupid smart mouth, how it would feel.” Your breath hitches at Lo’ak’s words, each breath emphasized with the roll of his hips into his own fist.

“Oh, oh, shit.” You know your desperation is seeping into your tone, suppressed moans barely being hidden by your gritted teeth. You’ve always been weak to Lo’ak, and now is no exception, especially now with the admission that he’s thought of you before.

“You look so sexy like this, all spread out under me. You know, you’re always calling me pretty boy but you’re putting me to shame here, narlor.” Lo’ak’s eyes are hazy but calculating, watching each expression on your face as the filth he’s saying echoes into the air around you. He has a look in his eye, like he knows he’s winning.

“Oh fuck you.” You groan, your hips moving desperately up into your hand. You can feel the heat of Lo’ak’s body encompassing you, the head of your cock brushing against his leg with each movement of your hips. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hah, really?” Lo’ak gasps. The sly grin that comes across his face is all the confirmation you need.

“You’re trying to get me off, by…by saying that stuff. I-it’s cheating.” You moan as your fingers snag against the head of your cock, catching the precum leaking from your tip to slicken the slide of your fist.

“Oh, that wasn’t in the rules,” he teases, licking a stripe up your neck. He lowers himself closer to you, the head of his cock bumping against your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. “Not my fault I can’t stop thinking how perfect you’d feel wrapped around me.”

Fuck, you don’t know if he means your mouth or your ass but it really doesn’t matter, either one of the images sending your brain into a frenzy. A moan rips through you, fingers twisting around your cock. It’s so easy to picture how Lo’ak would look inside you, or how he would fall apart on your fingers. It has you hurtling dangerously close to the edge.

Your breath quickens as you look up into Lo’ak’s eyes, dark pools ringed with the slightest amount of gold. His tail coils around himself, wrapping possessively around your shin.

“Fuck, look at you. It’s like you’re out of a wet dream.” Lo’ak grits his teeth, pushing his cock up against you as he strokes himself. You can see the slick from his slit dripping across his cock and down his thighs, a sweet and musky smell coating the air.

“Hah, have a lot of d-dreams about me?” You tease, but your voice is thready, more pleading than asking.

He grins against your lips. “Maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And fuck the thought has you reeling. It’s so easy to see Lo’ak in your mind, waking up hot and needy to dirty thoughts of you, half-asleep as he stuffs a fist in his mouth and strokes himself to completion with your name on his lips.

“S-shit, shit, Lo’ak, I-” your breaths come in quick gasps, too turned on to care about any embarrassing sounds that are leaking from your throat.Your body is thrumming with energy as heat coils tightly in your stomach.

“I want you to come, narlor. Right now, on me.” Lo’ak groans and you can feel his fist bumping into your hip with his rapid movements. Your eyes are clenched shut, riding the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm

“Come, let me see it. Now.” His voice is urgent, pleading.

“Oh, f—uh-”

The muscles in your thighs clench as you buck up into your fist, your cock bumping Lo’ak as you come across your fist and stomach, smearing your release onto your partner with each movement onto Lo’ak. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder, a moan tumbling from your throat as you come harder than you ever had. Maybe there was something to Lo’ak’s theory about Na’vi cock after all.

Lo’ak isn’t far behind you, panting into your mouth as his hips move unsteadily against you. His throat strains around a loud groan, and you’re able to open your eyes just soon enough to see his face scrunch in pleasure, ears twitching with each rolling wave of pleasure pulsing through him.

You try to commit the look to memory, down to the lopsided and dopey grin that stretches across his face. Lo’ak sighs with satisfaction, his dirty hand coming to rub softly across your hip. “Told you I would win.”

You can’t help the giddy smile that comes across your face, giving a peck to his grinning lips. “Best two out of three?”

#lo’ak x reader #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak sully #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar fanfiction #smut #venus writes #romancingpandora2024 #male reader #lo'ak x male reader #lgbt #mlm

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