#he was getting fucked in a dress all the time

[linddzz]

If you think about the actual timeline for the Jayvik divorce arc it is so. fucking. funny. Guys that was like...five months?? Maybe a year?? And most of that was because Jayce got stuck going crazy getting his ass kicked by the bisexuality demons in a pit in the torment nexus.

Really, within the course of a few days all counted, these insane and enmeshed dipshits went through

-Frankenstein's Monster/Frankenstein Allegory Divorce. Came Back Wrong Event. "Can't Let You Go" as an act of betrayal. Sleeping alone in the lab crying listening to Coldplay's "The Scientist" after divorce vs divorcing your situationship to go become Jesus

-"We're Separated." Jayce doing Hellfire from Hunchback but make it bisexual. losing his mind in The Pit. symbolically recreating his ex's life journey. Viktor going through his "starting a cult and taking psychedelics in a hippy commune. getting a balayage bc I'm so over him while wearing the blanket he put on me as a wrap dress" era.

-Divorce 2.0 now with Judas/Jesus Allegory!! The "I love you and will scream as I kill you for all our sakes" ass trope. Hexcore, play "Judas" by Lady Gaga. play "Mary On A Cross."

-Separated era 2.0. Sexy Gay Villain. Im Evil and Gay and Here to Serve Exactly What you Are. Cunt. engaging in horny homoerotic fights with your rival/ex. The Magneto/Xavier era. "My ex came back and he's so much hotter now." Dom!Viktor truthers get our validation and get fed.

- Viktor getting turned down by his hot ex and taking it so bad he becomes Bodyhorror Evil Robot Wizard God. take a shot every time Viktor pins or lifts Jayce by the throat.

-brief cameo flashback of Jayce being haunted by Viktor smiling before getting blasted, just to sprinkle some "dead wife in an action movie" trope to the arc. as a treat.

- Madoka Magika Cosmic God Doomed Gays Era. The small devotee standing in awe before the Beloved God imagery.

-"You were always perfect to me. Your flaws are beautiful. I always loved you for everything you are. All I want is you." Piltover's Ultimate Dumbass Loverboy commits to the power of love except it isn't working. Jayce's voice cracking as he says how much he's always adored Viktor.

(Sidenote can you imagine Mel Medarda in the hive mind collective feeling so fucking tired seeing Jayce immediately confessing his endless devotion and adoration to the Evil Robot God Viktor? She's probably dealt with these two being unhinged and enmeshed for years. she's so fucking sick of them. she is so out of the polycule.)

- IN EVERY REALITY IN ALL POSSIBILITIES. "But babe our fates are inextricably enmeshed throughout realities and throughout universes." Life Without You Is Fields of Dreamless Solitude.

-We Go Into the Darkness Together. Fuck Orpheus I'm Built Different. Category 1000 Forehead Touch. clutching hands and each other as we enmesh our souls for eternity and explode into a butterfly launching into the cosmos. Undoomed Him From The Narrative The Wedding is Back On.

ALL OF THAT IN. HONESTLY. A SPAN OF DAYS. (jayce stuck in the pit barely counts ok). the last four points alone were in a fraction of a frozen second. unhinged. deranged. they're insane. your honor what the fuck is wrong with them???

[highvern]

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it.  There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work. 

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength. 

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot. 

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.  

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble. 

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles. 

In his truck, the radio hums one of his fifty million cassettes. He only breaks the comfy lull at a deserted intersection. “One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy. 

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu turns right, humming along to the next song the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door. 

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. He thrusts two paper cups and a greasy paper bag across the counter and greets the next customer in line.

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool. 

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him. 

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out. 

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together. 

You want to kiss him. 

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car. 

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips. 

“Where are you going?” you call. 

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach. 

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going. 

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers. 

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating. 

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of? 

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours. 

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often. 

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant  is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite. 

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded. 

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen. 

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?” 

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches. 

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts. 

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines. 

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook. 

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point. 

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen. 

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now. 

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one. 

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time. 

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck. 

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there. 

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy. 

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.  

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks. 

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne. 

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot. 

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest. 

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze. 

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world. 

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile. 

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute. 

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week. 

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter. 

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending. 

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration. 

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you  and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone. 

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock. 

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years. 

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more. 

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims. 

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff. 

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?” 

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic. 

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ‘congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.” 

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass. 

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest. 

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision. 

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him. 

“You’re so good— fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet. 

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

taglist: @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

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@bokk-minnie @cookiearmy

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@wonrangwoo @xchaenx @nuttywastelandmentality @champagnenoona @kyeomofhearts

[simpjaes]

ELABORATE ON OBSESSED!WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU WALK ON!HOUSEHUSBAND JAKE PLEASE!!!!!! MY MIND IS GONNA EXPLODE – byeol

i'll be the husband jake plug no worries. warnings: jake is suppppppppperrrrrrrr needy omg.

It's normal, natural to him to do these things.

You're so tired after a long day, he gets it. the days feel longer to him sometimes though, despite your tired feet and aching back. You're his wife, he needs you.

So what if he's unemployed? He's employed to you. Will do anything for you. everything for you. happily and willingly, with so much love in his eyes every single fucking time he hears that lock on the door click open.

Time to reiterate. He needs you.

It's been weeks. He gets it. Stress, big promotion you're going for or something. He can't say he cares too much lately due to the neglect he's been dealing with.

After all the cleaning, he massages you, bathes you, tucks you in, kisses you gently, and doesn't dare ask for more from you. After all, you're expected to do so much, from so many people. Not him. Not ever. Until now. He's a man. For three days now he's been trying to remind you. Trying all sorts of subtle tricks. Some blatant ones too. Generous groping that goes rejected. A few heavy makeouts dwindling to a pop kiss and a tired "goodnight." More subtle ones, where he simply tries to dress well for you, clean far better than usual, make your favorite foods. He knows it's not because you don't want him but...you're so stressed. He could kill two birds with one stone if you'd just... "Baby." He had said last night, sinking under the blankets and prying your legs apart. "Just rest, this is all i need." He continued, implying that he would be perfectly happy helping you relax with some bedtime head. You had closed your legs on him, pinching your brows together with the same stressed out face. All day today, his brows have been equally knitted together. Stressed. Fucking horny. Is it cringe for him to do this? Yes. Does he care? No. Fuck no. And so, you come home just like any other day to the smell of dinner. It's sweet smelling, which is an indication that your husband wants something. Never does he serve dessert for dinner, but tonight feels like a welcome change because everything else just started not only feeling, but tasting too mundane. You were more surprised when you werent greeted by Jake at the door. He didn't take your things, or slide your jacket off of you. Which, that's fine. You don't need him to wait on you hand and foot. He just tends to like doing that for you anyway... You search in curiosity for him, following the sound of clanking pots and pans. The sound would give you a headache if it weren't for the image of him as you enter the kitchen. There he is. Hair pinned back with one of your headbands, apron on... only an apron. Cock lending quite a large tent as he turns to you. You know he's trying to smile genuinely, but you see a hint of pain behind his eyes. Desperate pain. Almost like he's begging you for something. Anything. And he is begging. Only when he drops to his knees and looks up at you with those eyes do you recognize how terribly you've been neglecting him. So much so that you didn't even let him eat you out, which wouldn't have expected anything on your part aside from an orgasm. This moment feels almost emasculating for him, you can imagine. Like you've deprived him of everything he needs from you in order to maintain order in this household. Arguably, you have deprived him. You can tell by how big his cock looks peeking from the hem of the apron, and those sad glassy eyes looking at you as if this is a last resort. "Baby, ple-" Jake starts to plead on the floor, the dessert he was cooking long forgotten. You're speechless at the image, finally feeling a tingle between your legs for the first time in months. You feel so apologetic alongside the tingle, realizing how much suffering he must have gone through to be doing this. After all, there's no way in hell you could have satiated this need within you without him. How he's managed to do it all this time is beyond you. ''Jake," You interrupt him, dropping your hands to his cheeks and tilting his face further up to you. "What do you need?" You see those glassy eyes become more tearful, probably from happiness by now. No words and no apologies need to be said at this moment. He sees your realization, and understands the lack of seeing to his needs to an extent. But this... this can't happen again. Nothing is to be said after that when Jake immediately goes for your pants, missing the taste of you so badly. He was right in knowing that even just the smell of you could satiate him. And it does, his cock heavy and leaking just from the sensation of the apron rubbing against him paired with the scent of your pussy that has been long neglected.

And he devours you, getting off at least twice there on the kitchen floor with his palm desperately working himself to each high. You could tell he didn't want you to feel like you needed to do anything for him but...let him. God, fuck, you feel so guilty.

So you make up for it. Right here, sliding down on him raw, letting the mess he's made of himself make a mess of you too.

"Baby, wait-" Jake chokes, working against his words by helping you slide down on him entirely. "Fuck, you're-"

"Shh." You sigh deeply, realizing how much you needed this too. "Just keep going," He does. Fucking you so desperately that you believe he cums in you at least twice from you adjusting alone, messing your thighs with sticky fluids, the kitchen floor, and himself. So much of it, you're so full of it already. Plan B isn't such a difficult thing to buy anyway. Especially after he chooses to keep fucking you, as if he worries he'll never get to do it again.

[pringle-slut]

have the urge to write something where edwin feels like he's allowed to Look At Charles now and charles is fucking losing it. edwin's eyes will catch on his mouth when he's smirking, skate over his arms when he twirls his cricket bat, linger on his shoulders when he's down to his white vest, (on more than one mind-numbing occasion, drag up the entire length of his body with a naked hunger that leaves charles fucking reeling) and every single time, charles finds himself preening about it. he likes it when people think he's fit, always has, LOVES that shit, but there's something properly intoxicating about not only being the subject of edwin's attention, but the subject of his desires. it doesn't take long for him to start seeking out the attention, purposefully stirring the desire.

edwin is. trying to cope.

edwin's perpetually sixteen just like charles is, and since coming to terms with his sexuality, he's had a much more difficult time ignoring it. the desire he'd never quite looked at now suffuses every corner of his mind. sometimes he laughs inwardly at the idea of rose-tinted glasses in regards to one's love - edwin's own have been tinted red since he realized he had them. of course there's the desire to hold and cherish charles, to be romantic and soft, but there are also the...other desires. the ones that edwin isn't sure aren't borne of his time in Hell. and it's like charles is trying to make it worse.

he's taken to wearing nothing but his vest and some "lounge shorts" (according to crystal) when it's just the two of them in the office, and edwin cannot silence the voice in the back of his head begging him to get his mouth on every bloody inch of that golden skin. he's also increased the amount of casual touches he gives edwin, much freer than he used to be with hugs and shoulder squeezes and the brush of hands and - and edwin has to use all of his self control to stop himself ravishing charles completely.

there's one night in particular after charles has returned from a concert he went to with crystal where the tension doesn't snap, but only barely. charles is buzzing with energy still, chattering away at edwin about the lights and the music and the people, and he'd dressed up a little, so edwin's attention is strictly on the tight leather pants almost painted onto charles' lean legs and the crop top showing four torturous inches of skin (bitebitebite). he genuinely doesnt remember any of what charles told him about the concert itself.

charles clocks this and tries to shrug off his leather jacket as nonchalantly as possible. he's not looking at edwin while he does, eyes darting to the floor almost shyly, but he hears the sharp intake of breath edwin makes when his shoulders are bared. he's noticed edwin staring particularly entrancedly at them when he wears his vest, and a burning wave of satisfaction washes through him at the shaky exhale he hears next.

"charles," edwin says, his voice low and velvety.

charles supresses a shiver and meets his eyes

"yeah?"

edwin's looking at him so intensely he can fucking feel it. he can feel those eyes trace his bare skin and his leather-clad legs and his mouth and all of it again and he's trembling with want, frozen where he stands.

cue ghost post!

[boypied]

STUFFING [thanksgiving special]

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans.

summary: his father’s best friends; chris and henry, visit for thanksgiving dinner, and at the end, the readers' fathers get drunk and passes out. Leaving the reader, Chris, and Henry to get down and dirty.

requested by: @dangerousstrawberryshark

word count: 1,081

warnings: threesome, anal sex, double penetration, dirty talk, praising.

It's that time of year again, the time of year when your dad invites all of his hot dilf-y friends round for Thanksgiving. You try to make small talk, but the majority of them just kind of ignore you or actually just don't hear you because of how quiet and timid your voice is when they're round. Except something is different this year. Your dad only invited two of his friends round, and they've never been round for Thanksgiving before, which is strange because they get invited pretty much every year.

"Henry! Chris! Come in, come in" your hear your dad shout out from upstairs as you see two cars park in your driveway, you slowly make your way downstairs and you turn the corner to be met by two greek fucking gods. Perfectly chiselled jawlines, your mouth gaped open practically drooling over them right before their very eyes. You slowly wipes your mouth and walk closer to them "H-Hey" you say quiet and timidly as you face them both, "This is my son" your dad says introducing you to them.

"Don't worry he does have a life even though he still lives at home at twenty-five" you dad's snarky comment causes you to roll your eyes as you smile softly at them as you walk past them and into the dining room where all the food is set up. You keep mumbling things under your breath as your dad embarrassed you in front of the two hot dilfs, "so what if I still live at home at twenty-five" you mumble to yourself as you place the knives and forks down at the table.

"You guys didn't need to dress up" you hear your dad's loud booming voice echo from the hallway all the way into the dining room, after them chatting in the hallway for about ten minutes they all finally make there way into the dining room taking their seats. Your dad is at the head of the table and your next to him whereas Chris and Henry are on the opposite side to you, "I'll be back, I need to go serve up dinner" your dad says as he places his napkin down and he walks out of the dining room leaving you alone with the two hot men.

The awkward silence was deafening, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them. You wanted them. The way their suits clung onto their bodies was proof of how they must be muscular, and you wanted to see their sexy body's as they pounded into you. Fuck..you could dream. Your dad strutted in with plates of food, placing them all down, and you started to eat. Even though you were eating, you were watching Chris and Henry, the way the forks filled with food were placed into their wet mouths.

After dinner and a couple of games and a lot of alcohol at least on your dad's part, the day was coming to an end. Your dad passed out from the amount of alcohol he had drank, Chris and Henry helped you carry your dad upstairs to his bedroom, covering him up to keep him warm so he doesn't freeze. You slowly close his bedroom door, and you come face to face with the two men, "I guess that's it for tonight" you say in a soft nervous tone as you look up at the two men but they both just smirk down at you.

Henry steps forward and grips the back of your neck, pushing his face against yours and pressing his lips against your soft ones, your eyes widen in shock but slowly close as you enjoy this touch of passion. Henry and you both stumble to the side, pushing your bedroom door open, and you both land on the bed bouncing slightly but not breaking the kiss. Chris slowly walks in as he watches this unfold, your body laying on top of Henry's as you both passionately make out, Chris slowly pulls down your smart trousers and your underwear just enough so that your tight pink hairless pucker is on display.

Chris leans in and begins lapping up your hole, rimming you to the best of his ability. His tongue slowly pushed inside you, curling and flicking against your soft, warm walls. Once your hole is all soaking wet and slowly opening up with Chris' hot breath against it, he leans away and strips off naked and presses his pre-cum soaked tip against your hole slowly pushing it in. You throw your head back breaking the kiss, you gasp out in shock and pleasure as your feel his cock completely fill your hole.

Henry manages to unbutton his shirt opening it up exposing his hairy chest and ripped abs, your eyes dart down and you gasp out at his reveal. Chris grips onto your hips as he continues to slowly pound into you faster and faster, whereas Henry's hands travel down to unbuckle his belt and he manages to get his thick uncut cock out. Chris stops pumping into you for a moment and helps you both strip off fully naked and you get back into the position you were just in.

Chris slips his cock back into your gaping hole and with the help of Chris' hand, Henry's cock slips into your tight hole. You gasp out in slight pain that eases away in pure sultry bliss as your hole accommodates to the size of both their cocks. Henry bucks his hips up into you and Chris digs his nails into your hips as he pumps himself back and forth into you his cock rubbing up against Henry's thick member. Your eyes roll back as they pound away into you relentlessly as your cock spurts out cum as they both stretch your hole to an orgasmic size.

Your hole tightens against Henry and Chris' cocks as they stop pounding into you and both feel your muscle ring tighten around them, their cocks can't take it anymore and they spurt out cum inside your asshole giving you the ultimate cream pie. "I think I know what I'm thankful for this year" you say in a soft tone as you feel both their cocks slip out of your hole and they pull you under the duvet to warm you up. "Happy Thanksgiving" Henry and Chris say in unison and they both place a kiss on either side of your cheek as your naked bodies rub against eachother.

Happy Thanksgiving. 🦃

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bruhhhh. I read this just as I woke up and it left me so fucking hit and bothered. 😭😭😭😭 I legit di my chores and was in the middle of watching a movie when I realized I still had yet to come back to this and I just want to say I am not the same person I was 1 fic ago fucking hellll what the fuck.

You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

ARRYN READER?! you had me at this honestly. I have not yet read an arryn!reader fic and it's so girlie pop refreshing we love to see it

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. 

She better than me. I simply would have jumped him again

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

First of all [obscene noises], second of all HES SO BIG DICK ENERGY SUCH A DADDY SUCH A GIVER CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN IS IT THE PRINCE HELLO

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

FUCKING hell fuck

“I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

😭😭😭😭😭 HE SO JDJDJDJDKSKSKSKKSKS I WOULD SUCK HIS DICK LIKE YOURE GONNA GET ME THE PRINCE FOR MY BIRTHDAY FUCK I WOULD PAY TO SEE WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT FUCKKKKKK

What if he thinks me perverse?

🧍‍♀️ bestie. That men bred not 1 but 2 of his nieces

You know this is nonsensical — [...]

YEAH calm ur tits

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

THE WAY THIS HAD ME SCREAMING (CREAMING) AHHHHH

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

🥺🥺🥺 my baby girl. My baby girl

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

HES SO COCKY AND FULL OF HIMSELF. I NEED TO BE FULL OF HIS COCK

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

I WANT TO KNOW I WANT TO BE A FLY ON THE WALL SO FUCKING BAD. HE MADE ME AN OFFER GOT ME LIKE

(I am legally obligated to say that I fucking hate this gif but love it so much every time I use it it's so fucking horrible and hilarious I loathe it HAHH)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

GNAWING AT THE FUCKIN BARS OF MY FUCKING ENCLOSURE HELLO?????

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

HES SUCH A LIL SHIT SUCH DIPSHIT ENERGY IM GONNA WRECK IT

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

NSJJSNDJSKSKSN IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR REQUOTING YOUR ENTIRE FIC BACK BUT THE IMAGE OF DAEMON WALKING IN FUNDAMENTALLY SAYING SUP BRUV & HEY BEAUTIFUL IS SO FKDKKDNSNSNSNSJ

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now.

KSJJSSJS I LOVE HOW THEY LOVEEEE MDKDKSNJSJSKSJSJ NAURRR 😫😫😫😫😫

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

HES SO SASSY I WANT TO KNOW HOW HARWIN PROPOSITIONED HIS FUCKING WIFE TO HIM PLEASEEE

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

DONT MIND ME I JUST HAVE TO REQUOTE ALL THE SCENES THAT MADE ME CREAM MY PANTS

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡YES SIR WHATEVER YOU SAY SIR THANK YOU SIR SORRY SIR

“She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

I WOULD CREAM MY PANTS HES SUCH A GIVER HES SO SOFT HES SUCH A SOFT DOM I WOULD GIVE HIM 100 BABIES

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

SCREAMMINNGGGGGGGGGGGG SHE LIKE ME FRRRR SHES SO ME WHO IS THIS DIVAAA

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

SHES SO ME A FULL BLOWN MASOCHIST

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

I WOULD CRY BUT ALSO TOUCH MYSELF BUT ALSO CRY AND CREAM MY PANTS AND SO MANY EMOTIONS BIG DICK HARWIN COMING THROUGH

Daemon whimpers.

DAEMONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN FUCKIN GGG HEELLL DAEMON MY BRAT SUB HES SO ME I WOULD NOT MAKE IT I WOULD MOAN AND BEND OVER AND BEG AND

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

GAGGGEEDDDDD JAW ON THE FLOOR HARWINS SUCH A GOOD DOM HARD DOM STERN DOM SOFT DOM I NEED HIM PLS FUCKING HELL

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

GIRL YOU AND ME FR MOVE OVER IM TRYNA GET RAILED BY FUCK AND FUCKER

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

Me and daemon, except one of us is more in denial I wonder who it is:

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

NFJDNDNDN I LOVE THE DEGRADATION NEXT TO THE PRAISE I THINK IM PREGNANT WHAT

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

IM SAYIN DAEMON MOVE THE FUCK OVER IF YOURE NOT GONNA GET YO ASS FUCKED I WILL

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 head empty no thoughts I think is should be stuffed somewhere else

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

MMMM GOOODDD SOUPPPP AM I BEING SO SI ANNOYING GOOD

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

Literally creaming

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

SWEATING SO MUCH IM SO HOT AND BOTHERED AND HANDMSKNSNSN HELLO

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

FUCKKKKKKKK DAEMONNN SCREAMING

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

JAW ON THE FLOOR YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME WHAT HE FUCKING SAID

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

WHAT IF THIS EAS MY LAST STRAW IM LITERALLY TOO FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD I MAY BE OVULATING THIS MAY BE WHY IM SO AFFECTED BY THIS HELLO

A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

When I tell you I SCREAMMMED well I've been screaming but NDKZJNDNSNSNNSNSMSKNS FCUUKFN SUCJNCNDMMDMXUJ DNDNSNSS BARKKINGGGG I WISH I COULD PUT A MEME BUT IM ON MOBILE AND I HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

She's so me 🫦💅😋

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

I never said I was more than a hole

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

This was so self indulgent I may have to reread this because fuck and I don't like rereading stuff cos my brain isn't wired like that but fuckkkkkkkkkk FUCKKKKKKKKKKK AND ITS 11K WORDS BUT ITS NOT DRAGGING AT ALL FUCKKKKKK it so good lobotomy me rn

Hour of the Owl

summary: there's only one thing you want for your nameday and your sweet husband is more than happy to let you have it

pairing: dom!harwin strong x sub!reader x switch!daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors go away!), afab reader, reader is described as having some targaryen features (white hair, lilac eyes) but no other physical descriptors are mentioned, threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), handjobs, piv sex, brief spitting, cum play, brief breeding kink, choking, spanking, daemon ignoring the rules, fingering, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, facesitting, very brief mention of miscarriage (world building only, does not directly affect the reader), praise kink, degradation, aftercare included, some fluff, "good cop/bad cop" trope, hair pulling, creampie, bi!daemon and harwin (they're at least experimenting asdfgh), daemon whimpering!!! i repeat, daemon whimpering!!!

word count: 11.8k (genuinely HOW)

a/n: this is dirty, y'all, i won't lie. this is filthy, filthy stuff. there's literally about 7.2k words of just pure smut here. gird your loins, this one is a wild ride. godspeed.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A soft breeze blows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, filling the room with the scent of the sweet smelling flowers your older sister had planted in the gardens of the Red Keep a few moons prior. You busy yourself with removing the countless delicate golden pins your ladies had stuck in your hair that morning, silvery hair pooling around your shoulders as you undo braid after braid. Finally, you run your fingers through the last one, lost in thought as you walk out onto your balcony, your feet bare against the cool stone floors. 

You sigh as you lean against a stone ledge, looking out over the many fires and torches that light Kings Landing each night, spread out below the Red Keep like a field of stars. You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

You smile as you hear the heavy wooden door to your chamber opening, practically skipping to the door as Harwin slips inside, already unbuckling his leather armor.

“My love!” You call happily, giggling at the exaggerated groan he makes as you thud into him, practically attacking him as you wrap your arms around him, “I missed you!” You whine playfully, breathing in his scent as you bury your face in his chest, your cheek pressed against the tunic he wears. 

“I missed you too,” he laughs, his hands hooking under the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his middle. He walks you over to your large bed and gently sits you down on the plush fabric, “My sweet little wife,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning around and striding over to the mirror leaning against the wall next to your wardrobe. “What meanness did you busy yourself with today, I wonder?” He questions, smiling adoringly at you over his shoulder. 

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. “I simply assisted Aemma in choosing decorations for the princess’s upcoming nameday celebrations,” you start, standing from the bed and making your way over to Harwin, watching for a second as he struggles with the knot at the top of his trousers before you finally push his hands away and begin pulling at the strings yourself, “Then I aided her in welcoming some new maids, worked more on my needlepoint, and responded to the letter from our mother.” You shrug, finally pulling the ties free before returning to the bed. 

“A busy day indeed,” he smirks, running a hand through his curly hair as he stalks toward you, “Mine was much the same; we started training the new recruits today.” 

“My poor husband,” you pout, sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed, “Working so hard.” You coo, aching between your thighs as Harwin places his hands on your waist, feeling his warmth through the thin, nearly translucent Myrish lace of your nightgown. You press a soft kiss to the middle of his chest, the hairs there tickling your lips, before you bring your hands up to his shoulders and begin kneading the skin there, massaging around his neck and shoulders. 

He groans appreciatively, letting his eyes slip closed and his head tilt back as he allows himself to savor the feeling for a moment; your sweet hands, so small and delicate compared to his, still send shivers down his spine. He can’t help but think of the first day he saw you – you had looked so ethereal stepping out of your family’s carriage in the courtyard, draped in a fine silk dress in the sky blue color of House Arryn’s coat of arms. You had arrived the day Princess Rhaenyra was born and had made King’s Landing your home ever since.

He had been fond of you from that moment forward, offering to give you tours of the Keep and personally escorting you anytime you ventured from its walls. He had known you for nearly eight years and in all that time, he had yet to find a single fault with you. Were it up to him alone, the two of you would have been married within a week, although you had always joked with him that those were the exact sorts of thoughts you’d expect from the foolhardy teenage boy he was at the time. Eventually, your families finally came to a marriage agreement, Lord Rodrik Arryn pleased with the promise of you one day inheriting Harrenhal with Hawin. He smiles, thinking back to your wedding day, in disbelief that it was nearly a year ago now. 

Finally, he opens his eyes once more, finding your mesmerizing lilac ones already gazing back at him. “You are so handsome,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you lovingly smile at him, “The most beautiful man in all the kingdoms.”

He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his arms holding you tightly to him, wanting to feel as much of you pressed up against him as possible. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet smells of the oils you use in your baths, “And you are positively divine, my sweet love,” he murmurs, pulling back to gaze at you once more as he twirls a silvery strand of hair between his fingers, “The Seven have truly blessed me with the most heavenly of creatures.” 

You blush, lying back on the bed as he kicks off his trousers, his entire form finally bare to you. Your eyes roam his tanned skin appreciatively as you lean back against your pillows, fingers fiddling with a tie at the front of your dressing gown. 

“Would you do me the honor of joining me in the bath, my lady?” he asks, reaching out a hand to help you up from the bed. 

“Oh, I would be honored, my handsome knight,” you joke back, kissing his cheek before the two of you make your way over to the bath, separated from the rest of your chambers with a decorated screen you’d gotten from a trip to Dorne many years ago.

You quickly undress, draping your gown over the screen, as Harwin steps into the bath with a hiss, “Seven Hells!” He curses, wincing as his skin adjusts to the water, “Did you have your maids retrieve this water from the belly of the Dragonmont itself?” 

You snicker, gently easing yourself into the water at the opposite end of the tub, “After all this time one would think you would know how I take my baths, husband.”

He simply rolls his eyes, finally lowering himself into the rest of the water with a pained groan, much to your amusement, which earns you a splash. The two of you laugh together for a moment and you tell him all about the various decorations you’d chosen for Rhaenyra’s nameday as the two of you quickly wash. Finally, he beckons you over, resting his arms on the rim of the bath as you settle yourself against him, curling into the side of his long, burly body as you lay your head on his chest, creating swirly patterns in the hair on his chest with the point of your finger as you finish describing the decadent flavors you and Aemma had chosen for the cake. 

“Speaking of namedays,” he begins, chuckling as he hears you groan, “A certain someone’s nameday is a mere two days away and she has yet to tell me anything she wishes for.”

“I’ve told you,” you start with a sigh, peering up at him, “How am I meant to wish for anything when you spoil me so?”

“I do not spoil you!” He admonishes, a guilty smile tugging at his lips, “I simply give you all that you deserve for being such a sweet little wife.” he teases, punctuating each word of the pet name with a kiss to your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle – his favorite sound in the world. You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, still tracing various shapes and patterns onto his chest before he speaks again, his voice soft and questioning, “There must be something you long for, my love. Anything you want, simply name it.” 

You stay silent for a minute longer, pondering exactly how to voice your thoughts. There was something you wanted, or rather someone — Daemon, the king’s younger brother. Like Harwin, he had caught your eye quickly when you’d first arrived at King's Landing. According to Aemma, Viserys had even been considering betrothing the two of you for a time; though your sister had put a quick stop to that, she had never been the Rogue Prince’s biggest fan. 

Yet, still, there was something about him that simply drew you to him, something intriguing in the way he moved, the way he spoke. You loved your husband, more than anything else, but Daemon was…tempting, you couldn’t lie. 

You look up at Harwin, still silent as you stare into his soft brown eyes, before looking away again, unsure of how to even broach the topic. 

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

“Husband,” you start, worried he is upset with you, “You must unde–”

“I understand, my little love,” he soothes, pulling you closer to him, relishing the way your breasts press against the firmness of his chest, “You need not explain it to me,” you rest your head on his warm chest, your face buried in his neck, “Lust for him does not do away with your love for me, I know this.” He confirms, gently carding a hand through your hair.

Even with his reassurance, you remain silent for a moment still; this is new territory in your relationship – never before had you seriously considered the possibility of sharing yourself with another, your husband so adoring and protective of you that you never dreamed he would entertain the thought.

“You…wish to share me in this way? Truly?” You question, heart skipping a beat when you feel his cock beginning to harden between your legs.

“I admit I was wholly against the idea at first,” he starts, his calloused hands slowly running up and down your thighs, half-submerged in the warm water, “I am still not thrilled that the object of your desire is Prince Daemon,” he laughs, teasing you, “Of all the knights in all the seven kingdoms, you pick him.” He jokes, his chest vibrating underneath you as he laughs.

“Harwin!” You gasp to hide your own laughter, though you know the cheeky smile tugging at your lips gives you away, “Please, be serious!” You reprimand, playfully slapping at his chest.

“I yield, I yield,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Eventually, the two of you settle down once more, a quiet calmness descending over you, “But I see the way you look at him,” he smiles, indicating that he isn’t upset when he sees worry cloud your soft features once again, “Very different from the way you look at me…only lust. And I see the way he looks at you,” your head shoots up at this, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks at this knowledge, “Lust, yes, but also a certain softness,” his hands come to rest on your hips once more, gently rocking your slick heat against his length, “Like you are something sacred to behold.”

He finishes finally, taking pleasure in the way you shudder against him, small whimpers and whines escaping your lips as your bud is dragged up and down his cock, his hands gripping your waist so tightly there are sure to be bruises in the morning.

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

“He should look at you in that way,” Harwin grunts, thighs bending under the curve of your rear as his knees come up out of the bathwater, giving him more leverage to rut against you, “Like you are, fuck, like you are something divine.” He groans into the hair at the crown of your head, big hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs swirling against your sensitive nipples, “You are, my love,” his words come out in breathless, broken gasps, “Divine, sacred, a gift sent straight from the Seven.”

You nod wordlessly, whines and moans getting caught in your throat as your hands roam over the firm planes of his chest, lips busying themselves against the column of his throat. No further words are needed between the two of you, a common understanding being enough for now as your bodies press closer together, nearly melding into one beneath the warm, sweetly scented water. 

Golden morning light shines in through the sheer curtains of your chambers as you busy yourself with dressing for the day, your maids flitting around you as they button, tie, and lace you into your dress. 

Harwin had left much earlier than you, already strapped into his leathers before the sun rose above the horizon. Just like every other morning, he had gently kissed you awake to let you know he was leaving, telling you he promised to be safe when training and that he would see you at supper. Unlike every other morning, however, he had added, “I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

At the time, you had simply mumbled sleepily, head too clouded with sleep to truly process his words. Now, though, you could not keep from wringing your hands with worry, fidgeting uneasily as your hair was pinned up, half your hair braided and wrapped up into a bun at the crown of your head, the rest left to cascade down your shoulders like a pearly waterfall. 

Your maids finally finished, leaving you in your chambers with your still steaming breakfast, which you could only bring yourself to pick at, the nervous knots in your stomach keeping your appetite at bay. 

What if he thinks me perverse? You worry, staring out at the morning sky, watching as puffy clouds blow in from the winds of Blackwater Bay. You know this is nonsensical — if even half the rumors of Daemon’s various appetites were true, he had no justification to call you of all people perverse. What if he tells everyone? You wonder, halfheartedly sipping at your tea, but even this you know was absurd. He was brash, incredibly rude at times, but the prince knew when to be discreet, and if he truly gazed at you in the way your husband claimed, you had no doubt he would keep your secret. 

After exhausting your list of worries, you finally stand up from your small breakfast table, intending to find Aemma and ask for her to accompany you on a walk through the gardens. 

You make your way into the hallway, winding your way through the various passages of the Red Keep in your search for your sister, saying polite thank you's to anyone wishing you a happy early nameday.

“Auntie!” You hear a small voice call behind you as you step out into the Godswood, the stoic face of the weirwood tree there peering at you from under its canopy of red leaves. You turn on your heel, smiling brightly when you see Rhaenyra running at you at full tilt.

You scoop her up at the last second, grunting a small “Oof!” as she barrels into your arms, “If it isn’t my favorite little niece!” You chirp brightly, her small arms hugging around your neck, “What wickedness are you up to?”

“Training!” She answers, excitedly squirming in your grasp, perched atop one of your hips.

“Training?” You question with exaggerated interest, “Whatever for?”

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

“How exciting,” you nod, setting her down before crouching before her, “She is growing quickly indeed,” you add, motioning for her to turn around before you begin braiding her hair, the same pale shade as your own, “Are the keeper’s training you as well?” 

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

“Ñuha dārilaros,” you nod in return, quickly finishing Rhaenyra’s braid before standing and turning to face him, “I trust the morning has found you in good spirits.” (My prince.)

“Oh, it has indeed,” he says, eyes flashing with mirth as he smirks at you, his head cocking to the side, stands of pale hair contrasting against the dark metal covering his chest, “Eman ryptan mirri udir, ñuha riña.” He drawls. (I have heard some news, my lady.)

This catches Rhaenyra’s attention, her Valyrian lessons clearly paying off as she gasps excitedly as she bounces between the two of you, “What news? What news?” 

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

Rhaenyra nods happily, twirling a small yellow flower around in her hands as she practically skips from the courtyard, singing, “A treat for Syrax, a treat for Syrax!” as she disappears down the hall.

“Ao jorrāelatan naejot ȳdragon lēda nyke?” You question once Daemon returns his attention to you, politely clasping your hands together. (You needed to speak with me?)

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

“Gōntan ziry?” (He did?)

“Konir sagon paktot,” he continues, voice nearly patronizing as he slowly paces around you, circling you like a shark in the water, “He says you want me to fuck you.” He finishes, coming to stand before you once more, a proud smile on his face once he sees the shock on yours. (That’s right.)

“Iksis bisa drēje?” He asks once it becomes clear you don’t know how to respond. (Is this true?)

“Kessa.” You say simply, inwardly wincing at the wobble in your voice, though you try your hardest to appear confident. (Yes.)

Daemon snickers, “Naughty, naughty girl,” he tsks, shaking his head teasingly, one hand casually perched on the hilt of his sword, “He tells me I’m meant to be your nameday present; quite the honor, I must say.” 

“Mērī lo ao agree naejot se jiōragon, ñuha dārilaros.” (Only if you agree to the offer, my prince.)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

You flush deeply at his nickname, only used to sweet praises from Harwin, “That is most acceptable, my prince.” You nod.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

“Very well…Daemon.” You tease, feeling proud when you see his eyes widen just the slightest bit. 

“Perhaps this sweet little kitten has claws after all,” he smirks, eyes looking you up and down once more, “Very well,” he says with a nod, “I’m needed at the dragonpit, but I shall be seeing you and your husband later this evening.”

“Hen rhinka.” You nod as you watch him leave, your entire body relaxing, releasing unrealized tension, as soon as his back disappears from view. You allow yourself to breathe for a few moments, standing in the silent courtyard as your heartbeat returns to normal, before you leave, once again going to try and find Aemma, or really anything else to keep yourself occupied until the evening. (Of course.)

“I promise, sweet girl,” Harwin says, watching from the small sitting area in your chambers as you pace back and forth across the stone floor, “I told him all he would need to know. About you, about what you like, all of it.”

You nod, half listening, as you walk back and forth, feet bare on the large, plush fur rugs that cover the floor in front of the fireplace. The warmth of it on your skin was usually a welcome feeling, although tonight you only felt overheated. Outside, the sky was dark, the sun having set quite a while ago. King’s Landing once again sprawled out like a sea of stars beneath the Keep, mirroring the stars in the black sky overhead, the bright light of the moon reflecting off of the waters of the bay – the hour of the owl was drawing close. 

“We do not have to do this if you’re having second thoughts, my love,” he says, standing and striding over to you, “If you wish, I will simply tell Daemon to fuck off.” He jokes, chuckling as you relax in his arms.

“I do want to!” You sigh, tilting your chin up to peer up at him through your lashes, “I’m simply nervous, I suppose. We’ve never done anything like this before,” you bite your lip, looking away from him as you resume speaking, “Honestly, I’m still shocked you agreed to it at all.”

“I want to share you,” he shrugs, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head, “Show off what’s mine.” He says lowly, chuckling when he feels you shiver against him – he knows very well that his possessiveness gets to you.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the thick wooden door of your chambers, making you jump, which makes Harwin chuckle as he stands to open it; he had dismissed the guard that normally stood at your door in the evening, insisting that he take the night off. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you merely stand in front of the fire, nervously fidgeting. 

Your husband gives you one last look, his eyes questioning; you nod to him, signaling that it was okay, that this was truly what you wanted, and he opened the door. 

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now. “Kirimvose.” you say, trying your hardest to keep your voice from trembling. (Thank you.)

Daemon comes to stand in front of you, his eyes searching yours for a second, looking for any hesitation you suppose. When he finds none, he hooks a finger into the delicate ribbon tied around your waist, the one keeping your silk dressing gown shut; again, he catches your eyes, and again you suppose he must find what he’s searching for because suddenly he’s pulling the bow there undone. 

“She looks ravishing all the time,” your husband said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he seems to materialize behind you, rough hands skirting up your arms before coming to rest at your shoulders, “The most beautiful creature.”

“A beautiful creature,” Daemon agrees, his hands, not as rough as Harwin’s though still battle-worn, settling on your hips as he looks at your body appreciatively, his light eyes growing darker by the minute, “And a naughty thing.” He finishes, smirking when he hears a small, barely there whimper escape your lips. 

“Is she?” your husband asks, gathering all your hair over one shoulder, exposing one side of your neck before he kisses you there, relishing the sigh he gets in return. You gasp as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast, warming your skin through the thin lace of your nightgown, “She’s such a good, obedient girl.”

You lean back into Harwin, your back against his firm chest as he kneads your breast, sending sparks flying down between your thighs. “Only bad little things fantasize about being taken by two men.” Daemon practically growls. Your eyes are only half open but you still don’t miss the look he gives your husband over your shoulder, nor do you miss the way the brunette subtly nods against the column of your neck. You moan when Daemon’s lips finally press against your own, his mouth soft and warm, tongue already licking into your mouth. 

The motion presses you further back against Harwin, pressing his half-hard cock into the small of your back, the feeling making you near dizzy with lust as you realize that he truly wanted this just as much as you. Daemon’s tongue eventually wins its battle for dominance and the two of you kiss for a moment longer, the only sounds in your chambers being being yours and the prince’s lips moving together as your husband kisses, licks, and bites along your neck, causing you to mewl softly into Daemon’s waiting mouth like a puppy. 

“Are you a bad girl, sweet little thing?” The prince growls against your jaw as he finally separates his lips from yours, trailing kisses down the opposite side of your neck. 

When you neglect to answer, too caught up in the men’s attention, Harwin suddenly palms at the plump flesh of your rear, roughly grabbing and squeezing it enough to have you whining, “I believe Daemon asked you a question, my love,” he chucked, his other hand pulling down the neckline of your nightgown, nearly ripping the delicate lace, to reveal your breast, “It would be rude not to answer.”

“Gods!” You moan, sucking in a breath when you feel the blond’s lips wrap around your exposed nipple, his teeth teasing at the sensitive, peaked skin, “I-I’m a good girl!” You gasp, your fingers carding through silky hair, the same silvery shade as your own, “Harwin says I-“ You start, only to be brutally cut off as one of Daemon’s large hands wraps around your throat. 

“Harwin may claim what he wishes,” he sneers, nose touching yours as he speaks, “But to me, you’re nothing but a lovely whore.” 

You gasp, having never been called such a thing before. A part of you knows you should be offended, yet you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together at his harsh treatment, knees nearly buckling beneath you. 

Your husband tenses behind you, his kisses freezing on your neck before he lifts his head. Narrowing his eyes at Daemon over your shoulder, he grabs his forearm and pushes his hand off of you, “You are not to speak to her in that manner,” he growls, jaw squared, “Nor handle her so harshly. We discussed this earlier.” 

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.” He nods his chin at you, noting the blush on your cheeks and the way your chest is heaving. 

Harwin’s eyes shift to yours, his hand tilting your chin up as he peers at you. Before he can speak, though, the large bells at the top of the Keep begin to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Finally, the hour of the owl had arrived, and with it your true nameday. 

“Well, well,” Daemon drawls, abandoning you and Harwin to perch at the edge of your bed, helping himself go to the pitcher of wine sitting at your bedside, “You know, the girls in Flea Bottom have quite the… interesting nameday tradition.” He smirks, studying you and Harwin with amusement as he takes a sip of wine. 

“What is it?” You ask, pulling your husband behind you as you approach the bed, accepting a glass of wine from Daemon. Beside you, Harwin shakes his head, glaring at the other man.

“We talked about this. I told you that I would be taking the lead–”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

“Decide what?” You inquire, looking between the two men.

“Who will be giving you your birthday spanks, naughty girl.” The blond smirks, gazing at you appreciatively, “One for each year you’ve graced the realm with your presence.”

You looked back and forth between the two men again, Daemon looking at you as if you were a piece of prey, a prize to be won, and Harwin looking at you concerned, as if you were a precious treasure in need of protection. You deliberate for what feels like a long while in your mind – on one hand, Daemon was new and exciting, but you also knew of his unpredictable nature; on the other hand, Harwin was comfortable and safe to you, but wasn’t the entire point of this endeavor to branch out?

“Can…” you begin hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two men, “Can both of you do it?”

“I think that can be arranged, my sweet girl,” your husband says huskily, excited at the promise of exploring this particular act with you once more, “Why don’t you be a good little girl and kneel on the bed for us, hm? On all fours, as you normally do.”

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

He can’t help but admire you for a short moment, cock hardening at the soft blush that settles across your cheeks, the way your chest heaves as you gasp with pleasure, tits bouncing as you writhe against the other man’s hand. Finally, he comes out of his reverie and strides to where you and Daemon stand, taking his place on the other side of your body. 

He begins toying with you once more, guiding your mouth to his while his hands roam over your curves before one finally settles on your breast, the one unoccupied by Daemon’s tongue. His tongue battles with yours as his palm gently squeezes your breast, fingers teasingly pinching at your nipple, causing him to groan in satisfaction once you start mewling in the way he loves. His other hand joins the prince’s at your core, two of this thick fingers teasing at your opening, “Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, “So wet, my love.” His fingers slide into you with a practiced ease, knowing exactly what you like after having spent nearly a year taking you apart on a practically daily basis. 

They crook up perfectly, rubbing against that spot within you with the perfect pressure and accuracy. If there was one thing Harwin was determined to perfect from the moment you were officially declared his in the eyes of gods and men, it was bringing you pleasure in greater amounts than you’d ever thought possible. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across his bearded face as the sounds of your whimpers and whines grew more and more desperate, telling him once more that he was successful in his mission. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

“Getting close, naughty thing?” the blond asks teasingly, lilac eyes peering up at yours as he continued stimulating you. 

You nod frantically, whining as Harwin begins tracing his lips down your jaw, right to that spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. “Let go, princess,” he husks, the tips of his fingers zeroing in on that small rough patch within you, “Give us your pleasure.”

You can’t help the noise that leaves you, a loud, desperate, whining moan that would leave you horribly embarrassed at any other time, but right now you don’t have the ability to care. The ministrations from the two men, along with the utterance of the one pet name Harwin only dared utter in private, send you tumbling over the edge. You feel your knees buckle, although you aren’t worried about falling, too dumb with pleasure to think but still reassured that two pairs of strong arms will surely hold you steady. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you feel your center contract around your husbands fingers; the two men groan when they hear the slick sounds pouring out from between your thighs multiply nearly tenfold as your peak takes you, soaking Harwin’s fingers and wetting Daemon’s hand. 

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

Again, Daemon’s words send a shiver up your spine, the knot that had just come unraveled in your stomach tightening once more. “She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

Your head spins at their words, head swimming as one man degrades you, clearly gaining pleasure from the way his teases and rude remarks affect you, while the other praises you so lovingly, proud at way his tender words affect you so after months of perfecting them, learning exactly which phrases drive you to madness and fully exploiting them. 

“Are you ready for your sweet spanks, my good girl?” Harwin asks, brown eyes shining with love.

You nod breathlessly, still leaning on both men for support. Beside you Daemon chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ask for it properly, naughty girl.”

“Ask us, sweetling.” Harwin nods encouragingly. 

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

Daemon growls lowly in his chest, satisfied at you finally learning your place and addressing him the way he feels he deserves, “Get on the bed.” He commands easily, leaving no room for backtalk or questioning.

Blessedly, your sweet husband still sees fit to help you arrange yourself on the edge of the bed, taking your shaky legs into account as he helps you move. You’re indeed kneeling on all fours, your legs tucked up under you as your feet dangle off the bed, your ass in the air, though still covered by the lace of your gown.

You feel the air shift behind you as they move, both standing behind you still but Harwin to the left and Daemon to the right. The one of Daemon’s hands strokes down your back, you can feel him leaning over you as he trails his hand down from the very top of your shoulder blades all the way down to the small of your back, right where the curve of your ass starts; you can hear him hum appreciatively. His other hand drags up the back of one of your thighs and slowly, he slips his fingers under the hem of your gown. He pulls it up over your ass, letting the soft, silky fabric pool in the dip of your spine; your walls clench around nothing when you hear both men groan behind you.

“Gods,” Harwin breathes, rough fingers lightly tracing over your skin, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“Ready, princess?” Harwin murmurs behind you, hands soothing where Daemon had grabbed you.

“Please!” You nod, hands gripping the furs spread across the bed. 

Suddenly, a hand comes down on the left side of your ass, harsh but not overly painful; you whimper at the impact, walls clenching from the pleasant sting left behind. Harwin. You were sure of it – the two of you had only experimented in this way a scant few times but enough that you knew the feel of his blows. 

Again, a hand comes down, this time making you jerk as a palm strikes the right globe of your rear. A sharp cry leaves your lips, back bowing for a second before the same hand is pressing harshly at the small of your back, “Keep that back arched, naughty little thing.” Daemon hums. 

Harwin gives you a moment to breathe, a gesture you appreciate very much, before striking you once again. Again, you mewl as you feel the welcome heat spread across your skin. You turn your head, burying your face into the soft furs beneath you, only to practically inhale the wolf pelt there as Daemon brings his hand down again, making you gasp. Another cry leaves your lips, louder and harsher than the last as tears pool in the corner of your eyes, some already leaking onto the coat. The right side of your ass practically feels as if it’s on fire, the sting so harsh it makes your ears ring. 

“That’s two,” Daemon taunts, smiling wickedly as he sees an outline of his handprint already blooming on your ass, “So many more left to go.”

Harwin leans over you, brushing the hair from your face, brows furrowing with concern when he sees your tears, “Are you alright, my love?” He asks, smoothing a hand down your back, “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to continue.” He reassures you, smiling lovingly.

You shake your head, determined to see it through – determined to impress Daemon, really. “N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Daemon cuts in, gripping your cheeks harshly once again as he spreads them, tugging them somehow further apart than before as he clicks his tongue, pleased, “You love this,” his hand wetly smacks against your slit, making you whine as Harwin further soothes you, glaring daggers at the prince, “Little cunt’s soaking the bed.”

Your husband knocks his hands away, the ferocity of it making you gasp and peer over your shoulder, “We’ve discussed this,” the brunette hisses through his teeth, knuckles white as he grips Daemon’s wrist, “You will not handle her in such a manner, we agreed on this.”

“Oh, please,” the prince huffs, rolling his lilac eyes as he jerks his arm from Harwin’s grip, “She’s enjoying it, see?” You don’t have any time to react before his palm is once again smacking against your flesh, harder than the previous two hits combined. Your vision swirls, eyes stinging as tears blur your sight, a scream ripping its way from your throat as his hit shoves you further up the bed. You feel as if your entire lower half is radiating with pain, ears ringing once again.

There’s some commotion behind you, though it takes you a few seconds to get your whits about you enough to turn over, grimacing as the tender skin of your rear brushes against the pelts, ones that normally feel so soft now digging into your skin like dozens of little thorns. When you do finally clear your eyes, rubbing the tears away, your mouth practically falls open at the sight before you.

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

Harwin presses him down harder, chest heaving with anger, “You dare harm her,” he mutters, his other fist clenched at his side, “We trusted you for this and you harm her!” 

“She fucking liked it!” Daemon retorts, struggling against your husbands strength — although strong in his own right, he had nothing on Harwin, “Go look at her fucking cunt, it’s soaked! She loves being hit!” He positively seethes, nodding his head toward you. 

The brunette sneers, lip curling up in disgust as the other man continues to squirm in his grasp. You watch, worried, as the hand not pinning the prince to the wall shoots up and roughly grips Daemon by his throat, forcing his head back. 

Daemon whimpers.

The world seems to stop in a single breath, the three of you staying quiet and still. Your eyes are wide, not believing the small sound you heard, but there was no mistaking it. Harwin seems just as shocked as you, taking a half step back from Daemon as soon as he hears the noise.

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

The small sound seems to remind both Harwin and Daemon that you’re still there and their heads whip toward you. They remain silent for a moment but then your husband smiles, looking between you and the prince with a mischievous smirk. 

Harwin leads Daemon over to where you sit on the bed until both men are standing in front of you once again, the blond in the front with the brunette behind him, one hand holding his arms behind his back while the other remains wrapped around his neck. There is still a fire in Daemon’s eyes, though it’s merely a simmer now instead of a blazing inferno; you can’t help but be reminded of a tamed animal, of the dragons in the dragonpit — so much wildness choosing to be contained. 

“I think you need to apologize,” Harwin starts, pushing Daemon forward until his legs hit the side of the bed, the two of them towering over you, “For hurting our lady, hm?”

Your breath catches at his choice of words, our lady. You watch as Daemon nods, his eyes half closed, glazed over by some kind of fog, his breathing slow and calm, as if he’s in a trance. 

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

“Yes….” Daemon whispers, hardly able to get words out around the grip Harwin has on his throat. 

“Yes what?” Your husband asks slowly, words spoken through clenched teeth, his lips right next to the prince’s ear. 

Daemon sighs, his shoulders sagging as any fight that remained in him seemed to vanish, “Yes, ser.” 

“See?” Harwin teases, patronizingly tapping him on the cheek, “You can be good.” You see Daemon shiver at that. 

Leaving Daemon to stand at the side of the bed, your husband bends down and kisses you softly, “You still desire this?”

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes as one of your hands cards through his curly hair, “Yes husband,” you whisper, “More than anything.” 

“Stand.” Harwin commands simply, and you obey, coming to stand beside Daemon. “You,” your husband snaps, motioning at the man standing next to you, “Strip and lie down.” 

Daemon does as he says, with no fuss for once. You can’t help but admire the way he moves as he removes his tunic and pants, his movements still so fluid and graceful despite the haze he seems to be in. After a moment, his clothes lie in a pile on the floor as he takes his place on your bed, laying on his back, half hard cock lying on his stomach, already leaking and flushed. 

“Good.” Harwin praises simply, though you see Daemon’s brows flutter with pleasure. “My love,” he addresses you, giving you a gentle kiss, “Let me?” He asks, gesturing to your nightgown. You nod with a smile, letting him undress you. “Perfection,” he groans once you’re bare before him, dark eyes roaming your body. 

“I want you to do something for me, princess,” he says, leading over to the bed, motioning for you to kneel on your knees next to Daemon. 

“What’s that?” You ask, looking from your husband to the prince. 

Harwin grabs your waist, much gentler than Daemon had ever touched you, and you can’t help but whimper, loving the way he manhandles you into position. Before you know it, he has you hovering over Daemon’s face, your entire body flushing as you realize what he wants. 

“Sit.” He says lowly, letting you drop onto the prince’s waiting mouth. 

“Oh!” You say in surprise, your thighs clenching around Daemon’s head. Immediately, you feel a rumble beneath you, making you whine as you realize he’s groaning with contentment as his tongue meets your aching heat. “Gods!” You gasp, hips moving of their own accord over his lips as your fingers tangle in his pale hair, causing him to groan more underneath you. 

You pant, humping against his face like nothing more than the wanton whore he claimed you to be, mewls and whines escaping your lips constantly as your eyes squeeze shut. 

You hear Harwin shuffling next to the bed and open your eyes, peering over your shoulder and shivering at the sight of your husband undressing, his muscular body on full display for you. Finally undressed, he turns to you, stroking his cock as he stalks toward the bed, eyes scanning over your body. 

“Is he making you feel good, my little love?” 

“Yes, sir!” You pant, nodding frantically. The bed dips under his weight as Harwin kneels on the bed next to you, his free hand coming up to palm at your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipples before he pinches them, humming appreciatively at the way you squirm atop Daemon. 

“Good,” Harwin chuckles, leaning over to mouth at one breast while his hand continues teasing the other, “He must atone for earlier.” He finishes, letting go of his stiff cock to slap at Daemon’s thigh, making the man below you jerk and moan, his hands gripping at your rear tighter as his cock twitches against his abdomen.

You gasp, surprised by both the slap and the way Daemon’s lips seal around your bud in response, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his hot tongue as your hips grind down harder, “Oh, Gods, fuck!” 

Beside you, Harwin stands on the bed, bending to kiss the top of your head, chuckling at the way you cling to him for support. “Shh, little sweetling,” he soothes, standing up straight, the sight of his cock making your mouth water as he fists it in front of your lips, “I have something you can occupy yourself with.” He teases, moving closer to you. 

Smiling up at him, you softly lick the tip, pride swelling in your stomach at how much the slit is already leaking. You wrap your lips around the head, suckling softly as one of your hands untangles itself from Daemon’s hair to stroke the rest of Harwin’s length. You mewl around him as the prince continues feasting on your slit, plunging his tongue inside of you, deep groans vibrating through you every time he feels your walls clench around the muscle as he fucks it into you. 

Slowly but surely, you take more of your husband into your mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. He groans above you, half lidded eyes keeping contact with yours as he gently strokes his hands through your hair. 

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

Your husband’s sweet praise pushes you closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight as you rut against Daemon’s mouth, his tongue zeroing in your bud as he feels you moving more and more determinedly against him, his eyes rolling back in his head at the way you taste. 

“Are you getting close, sweet girl?” Harwin asks, gently fucking his hips into your mouth. 

You nod around his length, eyebrows furrowing together as you stare up at him pleadingly. Blessedly, your sweet husband can never bear to make you wait very long. 

“Find your peak, my love,” Harwin huffs as he strokes his length, “Cover him with it.” 

As always, you do as he commands. The knot in your belly finally snaps once more and you moan above Daemon, practically crying at the way each wave of your orgasm crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine. The prince slurps noisily below you, savoring your release as his cock twitches, leaking heavily onto his stomach. 

“Ah!” You cry, hips twitching as Daemon’s tongue persists against you, only stopping when you lift yourself off of him and settle back onto his chest, “Seven Hells.” You breathe, your wet slit pressed tightly against the center of Daemon’s chest. 

Harwin once again kneels on the bed and you peer over your shoulder, eyes widening as you see him swipe a finger through the pool of of arousal leaking from the flushed head of the prince’s cock, where it rests against his stomach, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which makes the man below you groan. 

“Seems he wants something,” Harwin teases, “Shall we let him have it?”

“Please, sir,” you whine, nodding pathetically at the chance to finally sink onto Daemon’s cock, “Let him, please!”

“Aww, sweet thing,” Harwin coos, tenderly caressing your cheek, “Thank you, although you are not who I wish to hear from.” 

At that, you can feel Daemon squirm beneath you, a determined set to his eyes, “Forget it.” He shakes his head, hands tracing over your curves. 

“Really?” Harwin asks, reaching behind you and grabbing Daemon’s aching length, stroking him slowly, making the prince’s body go rigid as he practically whines beneath you, “You don’t want to feel our lady’s sweet little cunt on your cock?” 

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

“I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” your husband taunts, shaking his head, “I know you want it, know you want to have your way with my little wife,” you can tell when Harwin begins stroking Daemon’s length again as the man underneath you tenses, his muscles pulling taut, “Simply ask nicely and you may have her.” 

You watch Daemon for a moment, studying the pained look on his face, his jaw still clenched and determined. You know he won’t do as your husband commands, still too proud no matter how true Harwin’s taunts are. So, you take pity on him, unable to reign in your own desire either. Bracing your hands on his chest, you move yourself back along the length of his torso, coming to hover over his stomach just above where your husband continues teasing at his length. 

Leaning down, you gently kiss along Daemon’s jaw until your lips are positioned just under his ear, “Tell him what he wants to hear,” you implore, your breath tickling his pale skin, “I want it as badly as you, please my prince, please just do as he asks.” You beg, rutting your hips against his firm stomach. 

Daemon opens his eyes finally, dark with desire as he looks at you, watching as you nod encouragingly, your own brows set in a pleading furrow. Again, the prince sighs, his body deflating, “Please,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper at first, growing louder once you dip your head down and begin teasing his neck, “Please let me fuck her, let me please her.” 

“Let you fuck who?” Harwin teases, finally releasing Daemon’s cock. 

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

“That wasn’t so difficult, hm?” Your husband chuckles, making himself comfortable at the head of the bed, his back against the plush pillows. He fixes you in his dark gaze, muscular arms folded over his chest, “Ride him. Tame our dragon, sweetling.” 

Our dragon. Again, his words make you shiver and you nod wordlessly, sliding further down Daemon’s lithe body before your center, dripping and aching, is finally positioned over his length. Once more, you look down at the prince’s face, his silvery hair spread in a halo around his head; he’s breathing harshly, his cock twitching against your center as he gazes at you, the animalistic lust in his eyes replaced with a glimmer that makes your heart twist — you’ve seen the same one in Harwin’s dark eyes time and time again. 

Before you have time to dwell on it, Daemon’s hands grip your hips, pushing you down slowly. Both of you groan, his length stretching you deliciously. You brace your hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your hips sink lower and lower, cursing as he’s finally pressed inside you completely, his cock filling every inch of you as your walls pulse around him. 

“Fuck,” Daemon grunts, his hands gripping at your waist and hips as his eyes roll back, “Tight little cunt, so good.” His hands suddenly grip your ass, making you whimper and grind yourself against him at the feel of his rough hands against your still tender skin. 

You can’t help the moans and whimpers that escape your lips as you begin rocking in Daemon’s lap, angling your hips in a way that causes his head to brush against that spot deep within you, the one that makes your head spin. “Gods, shit!” You can’t help but gasp at the way he feels inside you, his cock stretching you nicely — not as wide as Harwin’s but just a hair longer, filling you to the brim. 

“Does he feel good, my love?” Your husband asks, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. You nod as you meet his eyes, the brown almost totally taken over by blackness as he relaxes against the pillows, eyes sweeping up and down your body as he watches you grind yourself atop the prince, “How does she feel, your grace?” He addresses Daemon. 

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

You whine at the feel of his lips and teeth on your neck, your hands tangling in his hair. You whimper when you feel him bend his legs behind you, his thighs pressing against your bum; your whimpers turn to sharp cries as he begins thrusting up into you, spearing you down onto his cock over and over, the head nearly kissing your cervix as he does. 

Your cries rise in volume the closer you get, your thighs tensed against his movements as the knot in your stomach tightens, your walls clutching at his length. You gasp as one of his hands comes up, abandoning your ass to wrap lightly around your throat, only holding it instead of squeezing. His movements make your bud rub against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock, sending sparks throughout your body.

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

“Gods,” Daemon groans, feeling the way your walls keep getting somehow tighter around his cock. He pants as he moves his hips faster, punching his length into you relentlessly, savoring the way you gasp and moan into his mouth, “Yes, yes want it.” He groans brokenly, spiraling toward his own release as well. 

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

This time, thankfully, Daemon does not protest, both of you too desperate. “Fucking hell,” he hisses, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, “Please, fuck, please I need to make her peak, please!” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own, staring deeply into your eyes as he grabs at any flesh of yours he can reach. 

“Very good,” you do not miss the way Daemon shivers at Harwin’s praises, “Make her come undone.” Your husband commands. 

At this, one of Daemon’s hands buries itself between your two bodies, fingers frantically seeking out your bud and rubbing tight, wet circles into the sensitive flesh. Within seconds, you unravel, light bursting behind your eyelids as you cry out, fire igniting in your veins. Your walls pulse around Daemon’s cock as you cry out, your whole body shaking as your release flows over you in waves. 

Even through the blinding pleasure you can tell Daemon is teetering on the edge, savoring your orgasm before he allows himself his own. Harwin can tell too and his smirk grows, a devious idea coming to mind, “You cannot finish inside her,” he growls, shaking his head at Daemon, “That is mine and mine alone.”

The prince curses, his eyes squeeze shut as he manages to lift you up, pushing you back to sit atop his thighs as one of his hands comes up to strip at his cock a scant few times before a low, rumbling growl settles in his chest. A second later, he jerks suddenly, abdomen contracting as he finishes over his fist, pearly cum dripping onto his stomach, some of it shooting onto your chest and torso as well, making you gasp. 

The two of you breathe heavily as you collapse forward onto his chest, your tired muscles unable to hold you up; you whimper softly at the feel of his seed on your stomach, one of his hands stroking over your hair. “Thank you.” You sigh. 

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

You feel the bed shift beside you before a pair of lips descend upon your back, kissing up to your shoulder. Your husband pushes your hair back and you smile up at him shyly. “You are truly perfection, my little love,” he smiles, “Has our dragon tired you out?” 

You shake your head, reaching out for Harwin, “I want you,” you breathe, letting him flip you onto your back until you’re lying next to Daemon, “Please, take me, my love.” You beg, grabbing onto every part of Harwin you can as he positions himself between your legs. 

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

You shudder at his words, your core clenching at nothing, making you whine. Harwin shushes you lovingly, running his length through the slick still dripping from your center. “Shh, I will give you what you want, sweet one,” he says as he pushes his head into you, already deliciously stretching you, “As I always do, always will.” He grunts, sinking into you. 

Your eyes flutter, his cock still stretching your walls, causing your center to ache beautifully, your back arching on the furs. “Gods,” you breathe, moaning as Harwin bends down to lick into your mouth, your hands grabbing at his thick shoulders, “You feel so good inside me.”

He chuckles into your mouth before leaning back up, brown eyes gazing down at you adoringly, watching your chest bounce with every frantic breath you take as his hips finally press against yours. Groaning, he grabs at the backs of your knees, your legs bending as he pins them back, nearly folding you in half. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

The two of you move together for many moments, slick sounds from your center making you blush as you lose yourself in Harwin’s strong thrusts. He knows exactly how to unwind you after this much time together, and he wastes no time in doing so, a proud smile on his face as he feels your muscles tensing underneath him. 

“Close already, pretty girl?” He asks, his curls tumbling wildly as he moves. You nod, words catching in your throat as you clench around his thick cock. 

Beside you, Daemon, who has been watching with dark eyes all the while, slowly strokes his length, his other hand resting on your throat once more, his own breath growing more ragged each minute. 

Harwin’s gaze shifts to him, his thrusts speeding up as he looks over the prince’s lean figure, “Up,” he commands, motioning for Daemon to stand next to him, “Watch as I claim her, see her in the way I do.” 

Again, Daemon listens without a fight, rising from his place next to you as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Harwin as he continues pumping at his cock, breathing heavily as he stares at the place where you and your husband connect. 

Harwin bends down suddenly, the motion pulling his length from you and causing you to whine — though that quickly turns to a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue lick at your stomach. Tilting your head up, you look down in just enough time to see his tongue sweep through the pool of Daemon’s seed, still splattered on you. “Oh!” You exclaim, surprised as you watch your husband gather the other man’s spend on his tongue. 

Leaning up, Harwin once again spears you on length before hovering his face over yours, his eyes searching your gaze. Knowing what he wants, you open your mouth, smiling through moans at the familiar sight of him gathering spit in his mouth. A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

Your eyes roll back as you swallow, savoring the unfamiliar, heady taste of the prince as your cunt flutters. Above you, Daemon lets out a groan so loud he almost sounds as if he’s in pain. 

“Good girl,” Harwin praises, smoothing a hand through your hair as he resumes his harsh thrusts, his other hand bracing itself against your lower stomach, thumb toying with your bud, “My good girl.” 

“Seven Hells.” Daemon groans, fisting his cock harder and faster as he nears his own release. 

“I’m close, my love,” Harwin pants, his thumb pressing against your bud harder, making your hips twitch under him, “With me?” He asks, half lidded eyes watching your own. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

His words send you over the edge, your walls milking his length as you feel the heat of the two men’s gazes fixed on your cunt. You gasp as your peak washes over you once more, the strongest of the night, causing your entire body to spasm uncontrollably in Harwin’s strong grasp. 

Above you, Harwin grunts as his cock spasms within you, painting your walls with his seed. As he tips over the edge, he turns his head to Daemon, pulling the dragon to him, their mouths crashing together. Hearing their twin groans, you manage to open your eyes, the sight before you nearly making you peak again. Their lips battling for dominance, neither relenting as their tongues tangle together, grunts and growls filling each other's mouths. 

Daemon finishes at nearly the same second your husband does, his seed splattering onto the furs beside you as his chest heaves. 

Harwin comes to a stop within you, his hand softening in Daemon’s hair though he does not pull away. You watch them kiss for a moment more, surprised at the heat building within you at the sight. Your walls clench around your husband's spent cock, making him jump and finally pull away from the other man, facing you with a knowing smile as you blush, your eyes flitting between four others. 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

“Watching him with you.” You clarify with a grin. 

Happily groaning, Harwin withdraws his length from you, shushing you as you whine. You feel your husband's seed dripping from you a moment later and both men hum appreciatively at the sight. 

“Shall I draw us a bath, sweetling?” Harwin asks, brushing sweat from your forehead, “I know you do not like to go to sleep so dirty, though if you are too spent…” 

You shake your head, giggling as both men help you stand on shaky legs, “I would gladly take a bath, husband,” you look between the two of them before your gaze settles on Daemon, “With both of you?” 

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

A few moments, and kisses, later your husband confirms it’s ready. He steps into the bath first with a curse, “I do not know how you find pleasure in this heat,” he jokes, gritting his teeth as his skin grows accustomed to the hot water, “Caraxes may as well be burning me where I stand.” 

Daemon laughs at that, the two men helping you into the bath, settling you against Harwin, a position you’d taken many times before. You sigh gratefully as the water warms your tired skin, the sweet smelling oils relaxing you, “Hush,” you chuckle, watching as the prince lowers himself into the water as well, on the opposite end of the large tub, “It feels perfect.” 

Daemon sighs in agreement, long arms resting on the lip of the tub as he tilts his head back, the steam making silvery strands of his hair cling to his shoulders and chest. “Perfection indeed.” He says contentedly, making Harwin’s chest shake with laughter against your back. 

Your eyes droop closed after a moment, Daemon massaging your feet and legs as Harwin busies himself with washing your shoulders, neck, and chest.

A gentle breeze billows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, the cool air feeling delicious on your heated skin, the smell of Aemma’s sweet blossoms in the palace gardens making your lips quirk up into a tired smile. 

“Sleep, princess.” Harwin commands gently, whispering against your neck. 

“Ēdrugon.” Daemon echos. (Sleep.)

You obey.

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[keeryhours]

please don’t go, i love you so - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

When you get in a serious accident, Rafe’s true feelings are left staring him in the face.

Requested

Warnings:

Lots of drama and angst, language, serious car accident, medical stuff, talk of TBIs, broken bones, and other injuries

Word Count: 4k

A/N:

Had to do research for this one, but I’m definitely no expert on medical stuff so forgive me if I get something wrong 🥲 Requests are open! BD Rafe requests can be anywhere in the timeline, past, future, smut, fluff, or angst :) Other OBX (or ST) requests also very welcome. I hope you enjoy this one!

let me know if you want to be on any tag lists :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“Iris, please, baby, we’ve got to get your shoes on.”

“No!” the toddler yelled back, running circles around the living room.

You were out of energy. You sat on the couch, your face in your hands, as she continued to run and you tried to clear your head and just breathe.

It had been a long day. A bad day. Iris had been absolutely wild, endless energy and more attitude in her nearly 2 year old self than you thought possible. And it didn’t help that JJ was out with the pogues, so you didn’t even have any backup. It was 7pm, nearing her bedtime, and this had been your whole day. You were over it.

Everything had been a fight with her all day, but the current one was getting her dressed for pickup. It was Rafe’s weekend, and he’d be pulling up any second. You didn’t feel too thrilled about seeing Rafe right now, either.

Things had been complicated with Rafe. You felt like it was a constant back and forth with him, especially recently. Not about co-parenting, never about Iris - you knew you were lucky that the two of you got along so well when it came to parenting your daughter. It was feelings that got tricky.

You didn’t even know how you felt about Rafe yourself. On one hand, you knew you loved him. You’d always love him. But just because you loved him didn’t mean you should be together. You could never forget the toxic situation your relationship had been. Constant fighting, endless tears, trust issues and anger problems.

That’s not even to mention the way he would act around you lately. He was hot and cold. Sometimes he acted all affectionate, kissing and touching you, fucking you, like you’d never broken up in the first place. Other times he was cold and withdrawn. It left you feeling confused, like emotional whiplash, and you were honestly tired of it.

You debated on letting yourself have a quick cry, but quickly wrote that off as you thought of how humiliating it would be to answer the door to Rafe with your face all red and puffy from crying. You took a second to collect yourself, before putting the Mom pants back on.

“Iris Elaine Cameron,” you said sternly, standing from the couch.

The little girl came to a stop, looking up at you with a big grin on her face, totally oblivious to your frustration. The sight of her angelic face softens you immediately, of course. She had her light brown hair up in tiny pigtails, dressed in one of the many outfits Rafe had bought her. Some designer brand dress, not that you had any idea about that or thought it made much sense to dress a toddler in such expensive clothes. She looked cute, though.

You held up her Mary Jane shoes. “Are you gonna let Mommy put your shoes on so Daddy can come pick you up?” you asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Her little face lit up with joy. “Dada! Dada!”

Your heart clenched in your chest. Iris had been a total Daddy’s Girl since day 1 - and Rafe was completely wrapped around her little finger - but sometimes the reminder of him hit you especially hard.

At the promise of seeing her dad soon, Iris happily hopped over to you. You smiled as you lifted her onto your lap and slid her shoes on, buckling them. “There. See? All done,” you said. Iris held her palms out and twisted them, baby sign language for all done, which made you giggle. When you had read the articles and brought it up to Rafe, he had thought teaching her sign language as an infant was dumb. But it actually ended up being extremely helpful since she couldn’t communicate with words yet.

“Book?” she asked you, and you knew exactly what she wanted - her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. She’d have you read it 50 times a day if you’d do it. You smiled as you reached over to unzip the diaper bag, pulling the book out. She broke into a huge grin just at the sight of it.

You opened the beloved book and began to read to her, making her giggle with the different voices you’d do for the monsters. Her favorite part was always when you or Rafe would read the line “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!” while attacking her with kisses and tickles. She laughed so hard every time.

When the book was finished, you closed it and slipped it back in the bag to go to her dad’s. She pouted like she was about to throw a fit if you didn’t read it again. “Uh uh. You’re gonna have to wait until Daddy reads it tonight.” You leaned in, rubbing your nose against hers, making her giggle.

You sat Iris down on the ground at the exact time you heard the front door opening. You raised your eyebrows knowingly at Iris, who’s eyes went wide in the direction of the hallway. You both knew perfectly well who it was.

Rafe sauntered into the living room, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the sun already beginning to set. His bored expression was immediately replaced by a huge grin as he saw his daughter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, lifting her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

You avoided eye contact with Rafe, busying yourself around the living room as you made sure everything Iris needed that he didn’t already have at his place was packed in her diaper bag. Once you were satisfied, you approached Rafe with the bag, handing it over. He took it from you with a curious expression.

“You’re being weird,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

You ignored him, leaning over to give Iris a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday night, okay?”

Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you, like he’s examining you inside and out. “What’s your deal?”

You sighed - you already felt defeated and exhausted going into this encounter, you didn’t really want to do this tonight. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

But Rafe knows you better than anyone.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you. “This is because I took Briana on another date, isn’t it?”

You felt your skin turn ice cold at the accusation, your defenses building themselves high. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

The slightest smirk dances across his lips as he sits a wiggling Iris back on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. “That is why you’re mad.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms and looked away from him, watching Iris start dragging everything you’d just cleaned up out of the toy box again, paying no mind to the two of you. “I’m not mad. And if I was, I have much better things to be upset about than who you choose to stick your dick into,” you hissed back at him.

Rafe barked out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling as he did like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “You are so full of shit.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Get out, Rafe. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He watched you for a minute longer as you both stood there in silence. Finally he let out a big sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t acknowledge the comment as he moved to lift Iris into his arms again, her bag slung over his shoulder. You followed him to the front door, ready to shut him out as soon as possible, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to you.

“You know, it’s none of your business who I see. We’re not together. You’re not my girl.”

You just looked at him, his words cutting far deeper and harder than you wanted to admit. “Same goes for you too, Rafe,” you said, thinking of the multiple times Rafe’s temper and jealousy had ruined one of your dates. Half the island was scared to even look at you because of him. It was fucking annoying.

Rafe scoffed. He shook his head one more time with that stupid grin on his face. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said, and then he was walking off towards his truck.

You didn’t linger. You shut the door as soon as he stepped away, leaning against the wood as you took a deep, shaky breath. God, you hated that arrogant asshole sometimes.

You wallowed in your despair on the couch for a while that night, switching between various shows, none of them catching your interest. Eventually you think what’s the point, and decide to just go to bed early. You might as well take advantage of the sleep without having to worry about getting up early.

—

You hoped you would feel better the next day.

You didn’t.

You made breakfast for you and JJ, not something you typically do when Iris was at Rafe’s, but you felt like pancakes. And JJ certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“You look depressed,” JJ pointed out helpfully through a mouthful of pancake as you sat at the small dining table across from him.

You glared at him over your plate before eating a bite of your own breakfast. JJ held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Touchy subject this morning, I see.”

As much as you loved your twin brother, you were relieved when he picked up his surf board after breakfast and told you he was going out. You didn’t exactly feel up to company.

With JJ gone, you attempted to stay busy around the house, but once everything was cleaned to perfection, you found yourself standing in the silent living room, feeling like you had no idea what to do with yourself. What was wrong with you, you thought. The place was always too quiet without Iris.

You needed a drive to clear your head.

You snatched your keys from the side table and left the house, still dressed in the tank top and athletic shorts you’d been cleaning the house in. You just wanted to drive around the island for a while, you weren’t really going anywhere, so you didn’t care how you looked.

You turned on your favorite sad playlist and sang at the top of your lungs to songs about love and broken hearts and pain. You felt pretty silly, but this was your time, your coping mechanism, and you weren’t going to feel bad about it.

Fuck Rafe Cameron. And not in the way you usually did.

You drove with the windows down, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, cooling your skin. You felt yourself starting to feel lighter.

You didn’t see the truck barreling faster than the speed limit around the corner. No one even had time to lay on the horn. You didn’t see or feel anything except a brief flash of pain and then - nothing.

—

“Wow! That’s beautiful, baby.”

Rafe lifted up the piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles, examining it like it was on display at The Louvre. It was the fifth one he’d been given since he sat on the floor with Iris, crayons and paper spread out all around them. Each piece of art went in a stack to be displayed somewhere in the house.

He watched his daughter as she picked up the green jumbo crayon and began roughly scribbling it across another blank page. The same big smile he always had around Iris was spread across his face. Nothing made him happier than spending time with her.

Rafe was caught off guard by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out, expecting to see either Topper or Kelce forgetting it was his weekend with Iris. But his eyebrows furrowed as he saw it was JJ calling him. JJ never called or texted him. They only had each other’s numbers in case of emergency.

Rafe felt a jolt of pure fear deep in his chest.

He answered the call, tentatively bringing the phone to his ear. “Maybank?” he answered.

He felt the nausea spread over him like a tidal wave when JJ spoke your name in his panicked voice. It was you. God, something bad had happened to you.

“S-slow down,” Rafe said, holding his shaking hand out in front of him as if JJ could see. Pure panic was spreading and growing through every vein in his body. “What…what happened?”

JJ’s voice was shaking too as he spoke. Rafe could tell he was pacing, probably pulling at his messy blonde hair as he did. “She- it was a truck. Guy was speeding and hit her head-on. Her car is totaled, they…they haven’t even let me see her yet. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left this morning. Fuck!”

Rafe couldn’t even process JJ blaming himself for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, because he was doing the same thing. He had been a total asshole to you last night. The idea that that could possibly have been the last conversation he’ll ever have with you has him feeling like he’s going to be sick on the floor.

“I’m on my way,” Rafe said simply, and then he was hanging up the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and climbing to his feet.

Sarah was happy to watch Iris as Rafe grabbed his keys and sprinted to his truck, with promises to text her about your condition as soon as he knew anything at all. He probably would have been driving 15 over the speed limit if he wasn’t so disgustingly reminded of the dangers of the road. Instead he drove as fast as he safely could, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw tightly.

His head was spinning as he rushed into the hospital, looking around the waiting room for any sign of JJ. He didn’t see the blonde boy anywhere. He approached the receptionist desk instead, urgently giving your name to the tired looking receptionist.

“She’s in the Neuro ICU, room 5,” the receptionist said. Rafe felt his breath hitch - the fucking ICU? “We only allow two visitors at a time, and it’s immediate family only,” she continued. “You are…?”

Rafe hesitated. “Uh…I’m her boyfriend,” he said the first thing that came to mind. “But we have a child together. Please.”

The receptionist eyed him for a moment, before nodding, giving him a sympathetic look. She printed a visitor’s badge for him and handed it over. He thinks she said something about wishing you the best, but all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears as he mindlessly walked towards the elevators.

The last time Rafe had been in a hospital was for Iris’ birth, decidedly a much happier occasion. He felt out of place and awkward as he walked through the quiet, sterile halls, following signs pointing him where he wanted to go.

When he reached the ICU and approached room 5, he froze. He had never felt so scared in his life, he thought. He didn’t know if he could do this.

But you needed him.

He slid the glass door open, a flash of blonde hair peeking from around the privacy curtain where JJ was sitting. Rafe mustered all the strength he had to walk forward into the room. JJ looked up at him as he entered, but his eyes were immediately drawn to you as his heart shattered in his chest.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he took in the scene in front of him. He was holding off a panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. You were there on the bed, and you looked so utterly broken that it made Rafe feel like he couldn’t breathe. You were hooked up to an IV, about a million monitors mostly over your chest and head, a cast on an arm and one on a leg, a ventilator.

Rafe’s shaky legs practically gave out then, his body collapsing in the empty chair by your bedside. He was terrified to look at you, knowing he was going to start crying harder if he did. He looked at JJ instead, who looked equally wrecked, his eyes red from crying.

JJ gave Rafe the rundown the doctor had just given him. Traumatic brain injury, broken bones in your left arm and leg. You hadn’t regained consciousness at all since the accident. Things were still up in the air, nothing the doctors would say brought Rafe any comfort. They didn’t know about surgery yet, they didn’t know how long it would take you to recover, hell, they couldn’t even say if you’d be the same when you woke up.

When Rafe finally worked up the courage to be close to you, to actually look at you - he didn’t know his heart could break like this. Your normally smooth, perfect skin that he loved to trace his fingertips over because of the way you’d react to his touch, was now covered in deep bruises. Your face - that beautiful face he always adored so much, the one he fell in love with back in junior high - bruised and lacerated. He couldn’t even tell himself you were just peacefully napping. You looked like hell.

The next weeks were long and difficult. Iris stayed with the Cameron’s, and while Rafe spent every second he could drag himself away from your bedside spending it with her, he didn’t leave the hospital much at all. He grew used to sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

Your recovery was truly a miracle. You didn’t end up needing brain surgery, but they kept you monitored for weeks. You did suffer a pretty bad TBI, and you had surgery to repair the broken bones in your arm and leg. The ventilator was removed first, which Rafe was the most relieved about, because that terrified him more than anything else.

When you finally woke up, Rafe was the first thing you saw.

The second he noticed your eyes fluttering open, Rafe was bolting up straight in his chair, his hand gently cupping your cheek with a barely-there touch as he whispered your name.

“R…Rafe?” you had croaked, voice raspy and dry from disuse and the ventilator tube being down your throat. Rafe called the nurses immediately, and multiple examinations, a plastic hospital jug of ice water, and some heavy pain meds later, you were feeling…okay.

JJ was there for most of the day like he was every day he didn’t have work. He actually cried when he showed up and saw you awake, which surprised Rafe because he didn’t even seem embarrassed about it. He just embraced you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you, and it was clear you were equally as happy to see him. There was that twin bond, something Rafe found a little weird (especially when the two of you would communicate without even talking) but also…endearing.

Recovery was a long road, and it was a lot of hard work, but the doctors were confident in your ability to return to normal in time. You had to work on your memory, your speech. Physical therapy took up most of your days. But Rafe knew you were strong, and you showed him every day. Even Iris got to visit as often as she could, but you didn’t want her in a hospital for too long so she wouldn’t get sick.

Rafe sat by your side late at night, gently brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Your hospital stay was finally almost over. You’d be coming home tomorrow, staying with the Camerons so you had the help.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. You were happy, but his behavior was confusing to you at the same time. “You’re being weirdly sweet,” you said with a teasing smile.

Rafe looked away from your eyes. “Yeah…well.”

The two of you sat with that silence for a while. You knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying, and you wondered if he would.

Rafe reached forward and traced a finger along your cheek, over your jaw line. The cuts and bruises on your face were mostly healed now, and you were endlessly grateful when they told you they didn’t expect any lasting scarring. His light touch sent a shiver through your body.

When Rafe finally spoke again, he sounded different than you had ever heard him. His voice was weak, broken. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Your face fell as you looked at him - really looked at him - and saw the pain hidden deep behind his blue eyes. Obviously you knew none of this was your fault, but you felt terrible for what you’d put your loved ones through all the same.

“I’m sorry-“ you began to say, but Rafe shook his head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” he said, his voice choked up as tears welled in those deep eyes. The words hit you like a physical blow, you felt yourself moving back as you looked him in the face. “I don’t give a fuck about Briana, or any other girl on this island compared to you. And it’s not just ‘we were together for a while and you’re the mother of my daughter so I’ll always love you’,” he continued, like the words were spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control. “No, like, I love you.”

He was looking you so intensely in the eyes that it took your breath away. You felt tears in your own eyes, falling down your cheeks before you could do anything about it. “Rafe…” you breathed out, you didn’t know what else to say. You weren’t even sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Maybe we could…maybe we could try again,” he said, the hope audible in his voice. “A…relationship?”

You let out a long shaky exhale. “I…” You searched your brain for the right words to say, searched your chest for how you really felt. “We…it’s never worked, Rafe, we never-“

“Do you love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you love me?” he repeated simply. “I told you how I felt. I need to know how you really feel.”

You swallowed. “I love you, Rafe,” you said, your voice small. “I’ve always loved you. But it’s still never worked for us.”

Rafe clasped both your smaller hands in his, being gentle with your cast. “I’m serious this time, baby. This is…things are different.” He held intense eye contact with you as he spoke, and you could see the genuine emotion swirling behind his eyes. “I’ve had a taste of what life would be like without you, and I don’t wanna go through that again.”

You had no control whatsoever as the tears started to fall down your face faster, a sob escaping from your throat. Rafe pulled you into the tightest gentle hug he could manage, his large hand combing through your smooth hair as you cried into his chest. He was a little panicked, he didn’t know if he had said something wrong to upset you. He didn’t want to make you sad anymore.

When you pulled back, Rafe wiped the tears from your face. He traced his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, back to your mouth, and then he was leaning in to press the softest kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes again, he could see the mix of emotions swirling behind them. He wished he could read what you were thinking.

He grabbed your good hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have plenty else to worry about. Just…think about it for me?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand in yours, which gave him some reassurance. You didn’t know what your decision would be, but you wanted to make sure you made the right one. For you, for Rafe, and for Iris.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I love you too.”

[taliseby]

JJK First Time Headcanons

Inc. Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, and Kamo Choso. Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ I am not responsible for your media consumption.) This is first time TOGETHER not first time in general. This is written with Chubby!Reader in mind but I don't think I made any specifics in this.

Gojo Satoru:

When you tell him you're ready he makes it a whole event. He takes you shopping, dinner, and a nice drink at his place to help calm any nerves you may have. He is such a gentleman about it all, but inside he's just itching to get his hands on you and it shows. So many subtle touches all night. The way he stares at you when you're trying on clothes and showing them off makes it look like he wants to eat you alive. All throughout dinner he’s holding your hand, rubbing your skin anywhere his hand falls.

Once you're leading him to the bedroom, feeling up his chest and undoing his suit he's grinning wide. He teases you for how eager you are, as if he hasn't already thought about all the positions he wants to put you in. 

The moment you give him the green light he's so touchy and can't keep his lips off you. Your own lips, your jaw and neck; anything he can reach. He's tugging on your clothes. Loves peeling the pretty little dress he bought you off. 

He gets you on his bed and spreads your legs. He fucking moans at the sight of your glistening cunt on display for him. He can already feel his cock twitching eagerly to get to you. 

Uses his deliciously long fingers on you first, taking his time to tease and stretch you out. He loves how warm and wet you are for him and can't help but lean down and press a kiss to your clit. You whine and wiggle for more from him and its music to his ears. 

“Are you needy, baby? I said I'd take care of you, do you think I wouldn't follow through on that?” He teases. He marvels at the way you shiver when he slides his digits out. The wide eyed look you give him is just too divine to deny. 

He grips his cock and teases your clenching entrance until you're practically begging him to just fuck you already. He eases that first inch in and he swears he saw heaven's gates. The way you greedily suck him in has him shuddering and closing his eyes to concentrate. When they open again he’s absolutely blessed by the look on your face, contorted between discomfort and pleasure as your pussy stretches to accommodate him. 

By the time he's fully buried inside you, he's panting and whimpering against your ear. His pace starts slow and careful but he's so hot and desperate he picks up pace once he knows you're okay. As soon as a little plead for “More.” escapes your parted lips, he’s granting your request with enthusiasm.

His aftercare is so soft. He cleans you up and asks you what you want from the kitchen. He's so cuddly after the fact too, still an absolute yapper tho. But the praise is insane, whispering against your temple how good you did and how happy he was that you wanted him like this. Refuses to leave your side the rest of the night, clinging to you like velcro.

Geto Suguru:

So happy when you come to him and tell him you're ready. He feels like he's being given the greatest honor possible. He gives you a teasing smirk and kisses your cheek. “I'd be more than happy to take you to bed, angel.” 

Dating Geto meant you've had many make-out sessions and heavy petting before this. The feeling of his hands and massaging at your body was familiar at this point. He plays with your body like a perfectly tuned instrument. Even just kissing him feels so intense and intimate.

He gets you undressed and on the bed. Just when you think he's going in for the main event he settles between your legs and pushes them up. “I can't spend another day without knowing how your pussy tastes, baby.” 

His flattened tongue licks from your hole to your clit so agonizingly slow, making you feel dizzy as he gathers as much of your arousal on his tongue. His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you still and spread open. His face is already flushed as he latches onto your clit and sucks, making your back arch. Suguru eases two of his fingers into your pussy, slowly working you open for him. His dark eyes stay locked on your expression, not once looking away from a sight he’s sure he’ll never forget. His tongue works you over and a harsh suckle on your clit finally pushes you over the edge of your first orgasm. He guides you through it, pressing a kiss to your clit once you’re coming down. 

He's so gentle when he finally has his cock lined up with your cunt. He's taking the time to visually worship your body while he waits for you to give him the go ahead. He slowly pushes the head of his cock into your squeezing walls, pupils dilating as he watches you gasp from the beginning stretch. He coos praises, encouraging you as he feeds each inch slowly into your cunt. He slowly rocks his hips to work you open and get you used to his size as he waits for those tell-tale signs that you want more. His pace isn’t rushed but does pick up, keeping steady and smooth. 

His hands are anchored down on your hips, allowing you only a bit of movement as he drives you both closer to your peaks. His brows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on working you up and up, higher and higher till you’re practically delirious. “Come on, angel. Cum on my cock, lemme feel it. Goood, so fucking good.~”

His aftercare is SO attentive. He massages any muscles you may have stressed. His voice a soft purr as he asks you what you need, already having grabbed you a water bottle beforehand so he didn’t have to immediately leave you. He kisses your face and neck, thanking you for letting him have you so intimately.

Nanami Kento:

THE gentleman. Oh, the way he blushes when you tell him you're ready to finally be intimate is a sight to SEE. A light pink dusting his sculpted cheeks despite his serious expression. “If you’re sure, dear, I’d be honored.” 

He romances you SO good. Makes you dinner, lets you talk about whatever you feel, bantering back and forth. You wouldn’t even know he’s imagining how you’ll look and sound once you're spread out under him. His hand taking yours, sitting on the table as he admires you completely. 

He’s so respectful, letting you guide him to your bedroom before he’s stripping you down. His hands caressing you with each layer he removes, admiring the lingerie set you picked for the occasion. “How pretty, honey. You know how much I like this color on you.” Though it doesn’t last long as he peels them off, hiding a smirk at the wet patch on your panties. He guides you back to the bed and lays you down before taking off any piece of clothing you left him in. If he’s honest, he’s a little embarrassed to be bare in front of you for the first time, but doesn’t dwell on it long as he looks at you. He’s mapping out every inch of your skin, any marks and imperfections though he thinks they're more than perfect.

He starts out slow, kissing you and letting you feel him up as well. He shivers when you touch him, so in love with your hands being anywhere on him. He chuckles at how eager you are, trying to bring him closer. “Patience, honey, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

He brings a hand to your core, letting his fingers slide through your sopping folds, feeling how much he affects you. “Is this for me? I must be quite charming to get such a reaction from you.” He eases in one finger, slowly working it in and out, in and out, watching as you whine and beg for more. He grants only another digit, letting it stretch you open a little more. He melts at every little reaction you give him, kissing you all over as he makes you cum. 

“Are you ready? Come on, I need to hear you.” He encourages, wanting to hear you squeeze out a plea for him to “Please, Ken. I need you so bad.” Before finally sliding his cock into your cunt. His breath hitches as he feels your velvety walls enclose around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat. He gently eases in bit by bit, rocking his hips a bit to make the adjustment easier. Once he’s settled deep inside you, he pauses, face flushed and eyes hooded. He marvels at how you look beneath him. It’s better than anything he could have imagined or dreamed up. Seeing you already worked up and messy from his cock is better than any praise he could get. 

He lets you decide how fast or slow he goes, lets you pick down to the force and rhythm of his thrusts, he wants you to enjoy this more than anything. “I’ll feel good regardless, dear, please, tell me what you need. I’ll give you anything.” 

His aftercare is gentle and loving to its very core. He cleans you up and runs you a bath, joining you so he can help ease any tension left over. Even as you relax his hands are gently massaging and caressing your body, admiring how wonderful you are for him. “I love you, darling. Thank you for loving me like you do.”

Kamo Choso:

This boy has very little experience as is, so your first time together is gonna be slow and intimate. He wants to learn everything about your body and how you want to be pleasured. He loves hearing your voice, and even if you're quiet he tries to coax you to talk to him through it all. His goal is to make you feel good and that's exactly what he plans to do. “Does that feel good?”  “Here, baby?”  “Like this? Do you like it like this?” 

He's absolutely feeling you up every second. His hands are always in search of new places to touch and squeeze. His favorite place to hold you by is your thighs. His fingers dig into the flesh, admiring how it dimples under his touch. 

He lets you set the pace. He wants you to ride him so, so bad. He'll look up at you like he's witnessing a goddess right in front of him. He can't keep his eyes off the faces you make and the way you move. His hands continue to wander as he tries to keep from thrusting up into you, so overwhelmed by how tight your cunt squeezes him. The kind of soft sex that is just so intense you could cry. He wants you kissing him through it all. He’s constantly pulling you back down for another kiss, another chance to push his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

More times than you can count do you catch his eyes lingering on where you two are joined. His face is so red, his mouth hangs open as moans and whines spill from him between excited panting. He feels so dirty but loves the sight of your pussy sliding along his dick, making it shiny and wet. His brows knitted together as he commits the sight to memory. “So pretty. Lovely, you’re so pretty down here. Pretty all over.~”

His lips latch onto the skin of your neck and chest, licking and sucking all over, unintentionally leaving marks all over. He gets so overwhelmed and excited to be so close to you. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

His aftercare is pretty simple but no less effective. He helps you clean up and lays with you, cuddling up to you and reminding you how much he loves you and how lucky he feels to be with you. He wants to stay close, huffing when you get up for any reason.

Requests are open!

[everyonewooeverywhere]

PUNSIHMENT AND AFTERCARE W/ YUNHO

pairing: dom!yunho x female!reader

rating: 18+

content/warnings: female reader, overstimulation, nothing super explicit

NSFW 18+ | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

there are a couple ways that punishments can go when you break yunho's rules. the first being rejection. no matter how much you beg and plead, he won't give you any of his attention. you disobeyed him, so now you have to suffer the consequences of your actions. and you can dress up in that pretty new set he bought you, and you can slide onto his lap all you want, but he's just going to pretend you're not there. letting you breakdown to tears in babbling apologies. crying into his shirt that you're so sorry that you disobeyed him. and all you want is for him to touch you and hold you and kiss your cheeks while he tells you how much he loves you, but he'll just raise an eyebrow at you and ask if you think whining will really help you get your way.

aftercare: he's so intentional about giving you extra and specific attention. making sure that you know absolutely and for certain that he wants you. that he cherishes you. and that you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to him. he probably still won't fuck you, but that's because he wants to only focus on his words. giving you the reassurance you need to be sure that his actions were just a part of the scene.

another way he'll punish you is quite the opposite. yunho has always be quite the sucker for overstimulation. it used to be something that would happen every once in a while on accident. but when he's using it as a form of discipline it is very intentional. will usually bend you over his lap. starting slow with the foreplay, but ramping it up the moment you start getting vocal. you usually cum for or five times from his fingers alone before he removes you from his lap. and the worst part about this punishment for you is that he won't actually fuck you. he'll reach into the nightstand instead. picking from a variety of toys to make you even more of a mess. he does this for two reasons. one, he doesn't have to worry about his own stamina, and he can push you a little further each time without having to monitor himself or hold back. and two, well it's not really a punishment if he lets you get drunk off his dick, is it baby? he will push you until he knows you physically can't cum anymore (or you safe word).

aftercare: a bath. will help to the bathtub before filling it and slipping in behind you. will take as long as he needs to clean you up. making sure to kiss nearly every inch of your body making sure to ease any pain. will carry you out of the bath and dry you off. brushing your hair and kissing your lips every time he gets the chance. and will literally hold you all night if you need it so that you can wake up in his arms and know that he loves you dearly.

general taglist: 

@swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine 

@sunnysidesins @skzdust @princelingperfect @seomisaho @bigboymoozz

ateez taglist: 

@certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms 

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity 

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex 

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr 

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost 

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng @prettygirlslietoo @miriamxsworld 

@tiny2018 @ttdogsworld @kejingken @fandom-freak-geek @painted-hills 

@minkioswoo @bkimrose @strawbshrtcks @dwcljh

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[holybibly]

Since my bunnies reminded me that today is the first anniversary of my blog, I wanted to surprise you with a little treat.

You've asked me several times to write something for MILF Hwa, but what if I offered you something fresher and kinkier, as an androgynous dilf Hwa, huh?

So, unholy thought of the day:

Your best friend invites you to spend the winter holidays with her in a remote mountain hut, because she doesn't want to be alone with her weird father. Her parents' divorce was a big deal, and she firmly believes that her father, his weird addictions and his complete incompetence as a man are to blame. And if it weren't for his huge bank account, she'd never want to see him again, and in general your friend tells you that she wouldn't be surprised to see her father getting fucked by another man one day. The way he dresses, the way he talks, the way he acts makes her life incredibly difficult and all he can do is embarrass her and make her blush all the time.

"Don't pay any attention to him, he's not worth it." She tells you dismissively.

But there are always two sides to every coin, and what if you run into Seonghwa in the kitchen later that night and he shows you what a weird and incompetent man he can be, turning you into a drooling, stupid mess while he fucks you hard into the marble kitchen floor?

Or: Never judge a book by its cover, because sometimes we can bite off more than we can live with.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

baby, ride me to the darkness of the night

“F-Fuck—Ughh—can you feel it, baby? Can you feel my big cock pounding into your pussy to the rhythm of the music?”

Of course you could feel it. Oh, you felt it all too well.

Falling for Gojo Satoru’s charm wasn’t exactly a challenge. One glance from him was enough to have you slipping your panties down, wet and ready, waiting for him. And once he was inside you? The sensations he’d bring were like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the club tonight, but your best friend had insisted you needed to celebrate finishing your midterms with something fun. Begrudgingly, you’d let yourself be dragged along, realizing that the night’s control was no longer yours.

At first, you’d rolled your eyes and sighed. But after a few shots, you felt bold enough to dance. On the dance floor, grinding against your best friend, collecting every wandering gaze, you had no idea the most dangerous one of all had already undressed you with his eyes and was fucking you senseless in his mind. Not until your friend leaned in, whispering about the blue-eyed devil watching you from upstairs.

People had given him many names: “The Strongest,” “Blue-Eyed King,” “Perfect Face.” But to you, the only one that truly fit was “Devil.”

Devil always got what he wanted. Sometimes, he lured people into his games with wicked tricks. Other times, he simply waited, his prey crawling to him willingly.

When you glanced in the direction your friend indicated, it became clear the Devil had already chosen you for his game. And without a word of protest, you chose to be his willing sacrifice.

You had no idea when exactly his hand gripped your waist and pulled you away while you were dancing with your friend. You could feel the hardness pressing against your ass. In fact, it was impossible not to feel it. And you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering just how much harder he could get.

Well, testing it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Turns out, the results were conclusive. So much so that the Devil himself—Gojo Satoru—couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d dragged you into the women’s restroom, pinning you to the wall, his lips devouring yours the moment you were alone.

And now? Now your legs were wrapped around his waist, your already too-short dress pushed up to your hips, while his thick cock plunged in and out of you.

Each thrust hit that perfect spot, leaving you delirious as the beat of “São Paulo” synced with the rhythm of his hips. Your back slammed against the wall with every stroke, driving you closer and closer to madness.

You were letting the club owner fuck you senseless in the women’s restroom—something you never would’ve imagined yourself doing.

“S-Satoru—sl-slow-slow down, it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding music outside.

“Fuck no, baby. Haaah—I know you don’t want me to slow down. You just want more, you filthy little slut. F-Fuck, yeah—” he growled, his masculine rumble sending a shiver down your spine as he thrust into you harder and faster.

The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom, but not a single soul dared to interrupt. It was as if, even through the blaring music, your shared moans were enough to warn everyone off. Nobody wanted to interfere with the Devil’s play.

And they had no right to.

“Mmmfp—I’m—I’m gonna—OH GOD, Satoru, I’m coming! Keep going!” you cried out, your voice trembling with the orgasm building inside you.

With one hand braced against the wall and the other gripping your hip, Satoru quickly moved his hand from the wall to your hip, using both to bounce you harder on his cock. It felt so good that you weren’t sure anyone else could ever fuck you this perfectly again.

“Shit—I’m coming too… You’re going to take all my cum like a good girl. Like *smack* a *smack* good *smack* fucking *smack* girl,” he hissed, accentuating each word with a deliberate thrust.

With a guttural groan, he spilled inside you, his head dropping to rest against the curve of your neck as his hot breath fanned across your skin. You could feel his semen dripping down your thighs as your legs trembled around him.

You closed your eyes, trying to process what had just happened.

You’d let the Devil ride you to the darkness. And it turned out, people were right—devil wasn’t a little red man with horns and a tail.

Sometimes, he had striking blue eyes and a massive cock.

a little note: i was listening to "são paulo" on the metro, and this idea came to my mind. this song definitely gives off Gojo vibes.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Red Hood stalking Tim Drake as Robin era but Titans Tower never happens.

Red Hood's watching from the shadows as Batman grills into Robin Tim about something he did. Robin Tim just nods along and says he'll be better and fix it with a faux guilty face on.

This pisses Jason off because of course Bruce chose a better listener and someone who wants to actually suck up to him and fix his mistakes. This rage makes him want to shoot him once he gets back to his house, but instead he gains respect for him.

Why?

When Tim gets back to Drake manor in his regular clothes, which is a whole lotta emo shit which gives Jason whiplash because -woah wtf. I thought this kid was a nepo baby?-, he throws his bag from school on the ground and starts just throwing shit in his room and screaming out curses.

"Fuck you Batman. "Do better Robin" "Bats don't do that Robin" "Blah blah blah""

"Look at me Im Batman. I can prance around in dark black clothing dressed as a furry punching people because it's morally acceptable to let your child soldier run around in neon traffic lights"

While all this is happening, Red Hood is watching from a branch of a tree outside his room recording(for blackmail) and staring in awe and new found respect for the Robin he used to hate.

Instead, the next time this kid is in trouble is when he makes his grand appearance to the bats and Dick is coming from Bludhaven to help.

So, when Dick and Bruce are panicking over getting Robin back from that week's villain of the week, Robin is already chilling eating Batburger on a rooftop in Crime Alley watching as Red Hood gives orders.

[tojisth3rdwife]

⚠️nsfw/mdni⚠️

Just a Thursday Night…

cw: suggestive (for now) you’re in a poly/closed triad with Toji and Shiu. They hate each others guts most of the time but they love the fuck out of you so..common interest i suppose lol

a/n: some fic below smau

Conversations like this were typical between the three of you. Shiu and Toji acting as if they weren’t essentially best friends by default, seeing as how it was difficult for either of them to cultivate any kind of relationship in their line of work. Which was what made the relationship between the three of you work so well. How it all came about? That's probably a complex story for another day. Tonight was going to be simple. Your boyfriends were working late and usually didn't get home until even later. So you were never hard-pressed for time to prepare the evening for them.

It's close to midnight and the house you three shared was warm and cozy, the air colored with the scents of dinner cooking. Foil-wrapped potatoes baked in the oven while two skillets sizzled on the stove. One containing buttery garlic green beans and the other a thick ass porterhouse steak. On the counter, one steak rests at medium well doneness to Shiu’s liking, soon to be joined by Toji’s medium rare.

You were busy searing each side of his steak when the door chimes alerted you that the front door had been opened.

Someone was finally home.

Shiu walks in the house first ,dressed in his suit and tie, blazer tossed over his shoulder. He always smells good as hell. Like expensive leather and mixture of his woodsy cologne and a freshly lit cigarette. Like a grown ass man that works hard just to provide his baby girl with whatever she wants.

He finds you in the kitchen at the stove preparing dinner and steps up behind you to make his presence known. His touch is gentle but firm, skimming over your hips and waist, pressing his front against the curve of your back. His lips find your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple before greeting you with a deep raspy “Hey sweetheart.”. His voice is like the butter sizzling in the pan in front of you and you melt against him, turning your head to give him a proper kiss that he hums into contently with pliant lips.

“Hi baby” you’ll sneak in between kisses that become less and less chaste. You're mindlessly pressing your ass into his crotch, making him grunt sexily and tighten his hold on your waist.

“Dinners almost done” you add, sneaking a lick of his tongue with a smile.

“Mmm..Smells good…” he’ll mutter against your lips, to which you’ll tell him to go get cleaned up so he could enjoy it. He’ll then hum in acknowledgment before pecking your lips a few more times, squeezing your hips and giving your booty a healthy slap before leaving you to it. Toji usually comes in right after him, shedding his coat and sporting dark jeans and a fitted tee. Looking every bit like that bad ass boy next door that your parents forbid you from dating. He greets you in his normal Toji fashion.

You yelp at the sting of the smack he plants on your other ass cheek, but it's soothed under Toji’s hand as he rubs and kneads your plumpness.

“Sup, Mama..” he growls into the curve of your neck, his buff ass arm coming around you and slotting under your chest for a possessive back hug. Toji’s scent is an addictive amalgam of sandalwood, some sort of citrus, and his sweat from the day. Since he rode home in Shiu’s car, accents of smoke were woven into the fibers of gia clothing to mix with his natural fragrance, having its usual effect on you.

He nibbles and teases the skin of your neck until you're giggling and reaching up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair.

“Toji!!” You attempt to squirm away from his lips. A feeble attempt of course. He’s got you locked in place under his bear arm. After seemingly having his fill of nuzzling, Toji lifts his head and the hand resting against your ribs to turn your face towards him for a kiss that already has your head spinning. His tongue tastes of mint and Monster energy drink, which he more than likely chugged on the ride home.

It takes some effort to pull back from him, and he just keeps kissing you. The corner of your mouth. Your cheek. Your jawline. Before he can find his home in the crook of your neck again you have to elbow him in the abs gently to get his attention.

“Youre gonna make me burn the food, Toji. Quit it..” you giggle.

“Just take it off the heat then..I missed you today.” He whines,his lips moving sinuously against your skin. You gasp when his teeth graze your flesh. You were feeling dizzy with desire, your lashes fluttering at the way Toji bit into your neck and sucked hard, earning a barely muffled moan that snaps you back into reality.

“Uh uhn Toj…I gotta finish your steak. Unless you want me to overcook it..” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he obeys with a grumpy sigh, pulling away reluctantly.

“So? Then I’ll just have to eat you instead..” he grins, his cool-toned gaze blazing into you lustfully. Before you fall into his trap again, Shiu returns to the kitchen. He’s still in his dress shirt, the top few buttons undone as he's yanking at his necktie. He opens the freezer before glancing over at the two of you tangled in a hot embrace at the stove, he sighs and rolls his eyes.

“The least you can do is wash the murder off of your body before you rub yourself all over her…” he scoffs, rummaging in the ice tray for two cubes to drop in the short-cut glass. Toji’s upper lip curls into a snarl as he glares over your head at Shiu, who is now mindlessly opening his liquor cabinet.

“The least you can do is mind your damn business..cock blockn’ ass..” Toji seethes. Shiu's tired gaze returns to Toji while he pours himself a drink.

"So it's cock blocking because Id rather you didn't get some dead man's DNA all over my girl?" he perks his brow, lifting the glass to his lips for a sip. Toji kisses his teeth. " You think I'd be all over MY girl like this without at least changing clothes? I'm not an idiot.."

At that opening, Shiu's brows lift as if he's about to disagree. He merely grunts in response instead, mumbling something snide under his breath as he posts up against the counter with his drink in hand. You didn’t catch it but Toji must have since he was bristling with you still in his possessive embrace.

“Yeah? Wanna repeat that to my face?” he drops the arm that caged you to his chest. His other arm loosens a bit as he steps around you as if he's about to approach Shiu, who of course regards Toji blankly before taking one more sip of his whiskey. When you noticed him turning to set the glass aside, your eyes widened.

"Yall don't start.." you whine, already scrambling to grasp Toji's shirt. It stretches from his torso a little when he tries to move further away from you to close the distance between him and Shiu with a sinister smirk on his face. Shiu smirks back, leaning back up from the counter to face him. There's a silent exchange of colorful language between the two men that you weren't going to let escalate. It was late and you just wanted a peaceful night in with your men. No drama. No bickering.

"OH MY GOD! ALL THIS TESTOSTERONE IN MY KITCHEN!” you blurt out, earning both of their attention. Pointing the spatula you now had in your hand, you aimed it towards Shiu with a glare. He opens his mouth but you shush him.

“Aht! Make that the last drink you get before you eat your dinner, ok? And you..” you pause to crane your neck back enough to look at Toji.

“While I do love the smell of you, if you killed someone tonight I'd prefer it if you cleaned up. Cool?”

Toji glances down at himself with the same type of furrowed brow that Shiu was now sporting when he looked into his glass. "Now I don't wanna hear anymore bitching from either one of you tonight, dammit. Its late and I’m cramping. Dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes, ok? So both of you get out of my kitchen so I can finish cooking please.”

You give them both a look, ensuring that they understand their assignments, spatula waving between them. There is a mixture of surprise and amusement in their expressions, finding your bossiness endearing considering you were the smallest person in the room. The men exchange a seething look of understanding, Shiu being the first to scoff and break eye contact before looking to you.

"Sure thing baby," he remarks warmly, picking up his glass and tossing back what was left in it before putting it back on the counter. He then approaches you, giving Toji a snarky downward scan in passing before leaning in to peck your lips. Toji rolls his eyes and huffs loudly during the affectionate exchange, knowing Shiu was just trying to push his buttons in the little ways he could without you knowing.

When he pulls away, you lick the remnants of whiskey he left on your lips with a smirk.

" Mmmhmm. Out." you wrinkle your nose at him, pushing him away playfully as he steps between you and Toji to exit the kitchen.

Leaving you with your broodiest boyfriend.

Toji was biting the inside of his cheek and watching Shiu leave with narrowed eyes, looking like he was plotting something devious when you poked him in the pec. His glare drops to you, softening a little on the way your siren eyes were drawing him in. With a lift of your brow, Toji relents.

"What?" he frowns and you smile at him sweetly, reaching up to run your thumb over the scarred corner of his mouth before speaking.

"You too, big boy. Go wash ya ass. And don't kill Shiu on your way back there please." you nod your head in the kitchen doorway's direction. At that, Toji grunts humorously as he kisses your thumb, then your forehead.

"Only 'cuz you said please.." he grumbles before trudging out of the kitchen somewhat begrudgingly.

You maintained that stone-cold expression while you admired that muscular ass back on his way out, waiting until you were alone to allow that facade to break immediately in favor of you being utterly hot and bothered.

It wasn't always like this but you swore one day things would come to blows between those two if you weren't always there to intervene. There was no reason for them to still be this competitive when it came to you. There was a clear understanding between you three that you were theirs equally and vice verse. But you had to admit that it was annoyingly sexy to see them still fussing over you though. Or maybe it was just because you were ovulating.

Either way, you were sure to be in for another long night with these two…

[cosmicanakin]

quick lil thanksgiving SOLDIER BOY drabble 🍁

YAP SESH! there might be a few mistakes from how fast i was typing this while eating lol & some warnings i might've missed. so, do let me know if you see any <3

WARNING(S)! smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | strong language | table sex | pure filth | overstimulation | DOM!BEN | unprotected sex (stay safe out there yall) | ben throwing his F bombs. ୨ৎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

thanksgiving with ben was quiet, just the way he liked it. no family, no friends, no bullshit—just his girl and a bottle of bourbon on the table. he'd insisted on a small dinner, something simple, and you were happy to oblige. but as you're sitting across from him, laughing softly at one of his sarcastic remarks, you notice the way his gaze lingers on you a little too long, a little too hungry.

"what?" you ask, raising a brow, still mid-bite of your food.

he smirks, leaning back in his chair, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "just thinkin' how fuckin' pretty you look tonight. sittin' there in that little dress like you didn't know what was gonna happen."

you roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat. "ben, it's thanksgiving. can't we just get through dinner for once without you—"

before you can finish, he's already on his feet, rounding the table. you barely have time to react before he grabs you, his large hands sliding under your thighs to lift you out of your chair.

"jesus christ, ben!" you gasp, laughing breathlessly as he sets you down on the dining table, plates clattering as he pushes them aside without a care.

"what?" he mocks you, his voice low, rough, and full of that cocky charm. "can't help it, doll. you're sittin' there lookin' like dessert." his hands are already sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher until it's bunched around your waist.

"ben, the food—"

"fuck the food." his grip tightens as he yanks your panties down your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. "this is what i'm thankful for."

before you can argue, his mouth is on you, hot and wet as his tongue drags through your folds. you suck in a sharp breath, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at it as he buries his face between your thighs. he groans against you, the vibrations making your toes curl as he sucks on your clit, his beard scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"goddamn," he mutters, pulling back just long enough to look up at you, his lips glistening. "you taste s'fuckin' good, baby."

you whimper, your head falling back as his tongue dives back in, licking and teasing until your legs are shaking around his head. but then he growls, low and frustrated, pulling away abruptly.

"fuck this," he mutters, standing up and fumbling with his belt. "these fuckin' pants—" he tugs them down impatiently, his cock springing free, thick and hard and already leaking.

"ben—" you start, but he's already lining himself up, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the table.

"you got somethin' t'say, sweetheart?" he taunts, his smirk widening as he thrusts into you in one smooth stroke, filling you completely. your gasp turns into a moan, your nails digging into his arms as he sets a bruising pace.

"fuck—you feel so good," he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tight you're sure they'll be bruises tomorrow morning. "been thinkin' about this all fuckin' day. you, laid out like this, takin' me so fuckin' well.”

you're a hot mess beneath him, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room alongside your moans. his thrusts are quick, steady, relentless, leaving you no room to catch your breath as he fucks you hard and deep.

"ben—fuck—too much—" you whimper, trying to push at his hips, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

"nah, baby," he growls, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "you can take it, like the good girl you are. i know you can."

his free hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that send you spiraling. you cry out, your back arching off the table as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him.

"that's it," he groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. "fuckin' love watchin' you fall apart f'me."

he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep as he comes, his groan low and guttural. for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing as he rests his forehead against yours, his grip on your wrists loosening.

"happy fuckin' thanksgiving, babydoll," he mutters, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he kisses you, slow and full of love for you.

you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. "you're unbelievable."

"yeah," he smirks, pulling out of you and stepping back, "but you love me."

and as you lay there, still trembling from the intensity of it all, you can't exactly argue with that.

[p1astr81]

Second Place

In which: Lando can’t balance his work life and his personal life, and loses his girl as a result.

pairing: Lando Norris x pop star!reader

warnings: angst, all hurt/no comfort, use of y/n

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧

All night, you’d been glancing over to the vip section on the floor. With each look over, you’d hoped to see his smiling face magically appear, but it never came.

Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? Shocked? No.

This wasn’t the first incident. Last month, he forgot about two dates. Dates you planned on your own. And it’s almost everyday now that his phone goes to voicemail whenever you call him. Then you’d shoot him a text and he would get back to you hours later with a half-assed apology about being on the sim or studying data.

The two of you talked about it once. He promised to be better. To try harder. Spoiler alert: nothing changed.

Of course, you understood him. To an extent. You knew the stress he was under. Being expected to perform with absolute perfection week after week would put anyone under intense pressure.

You should know. You have been there. You are there, in the same situation with your own career. You’d been on tour. You were constantly tired, but still managed to make time for him.

On the other hand, it seemed Lando either didn’t care to make time for you, or couldn’t manage his time.

It didn’t matter either way. You were done with this. With him. You felt like he didn’t give a single fuck about you anymore and it was mentally draining you. Despite your desperate attempts at keeping your relationship afloat, the thin ice that was upholding the relationship had been slowly cracking over the last few months, and tonight was the fatal fissure. You were drowning in the ice cold water. Alone.

You sat in your dressing room, still in the sparkling dress you’d just run off stage in. You wiped the makeup from your face. The tears made that easier.

Lando cautiously opened the door, the guilt and regret settling heavy on his shoulders when he sees the state of you through the mirror. You make brief eye contact with him in the reflection, and continue as if you never saw him.

“Y/n,” he started, remorse dripping from his voice. You don’t reply. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He apologized, but the words no longer meant anything to you. He’d said them so many times that they became insignificant.

He moved across the room to give you a hug. You dodge his touch, jumping from your seat. He looks hurt at the gesture, but for the first time, you can’t bring yourself to care about how he feels.

“Y/n, I fucked up. I know. Please,” he pleaded. Something between a scoff and a laugh came from your mouth. You wiped the tears from your face with the heel of your hand. “Your words don’t mean shit to me anymore.” Nothing was funny, but you laughed. You shook your head. “Do you know how hard this was? To get our schedules to line up like this?” You left a space for him to answer, but he said nothing. “I had to persuade my team for weeks, Lando. Weeks.” He just stared at you, his brows pulled together ever so slightly. “And you don’t even seem to care.” You threw your arms out to the side, your voice cracking.

“Don’t- don’t say that. I do care. I care about you.” He reached for you again, but you took a step back to avoid his grasp. “You do a pretty shit job of showing it.” You fire back.

Lando scoffed. “What do you want from me?!” He demanded. You take a deep breath. “To try. Like you said you would the first time we had this conversation, remember?” Your voice wobbles from the tears that you’re struggling to hold back.

Lando rolls his eyes. Turning away from you he muttered an, “oh my god,” as if you were crazy for thinking he was in the wrong. “This is insane. I have a job and it always comes first.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I have a job too, but the difference is: I make time for you.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. It’s not the same for you. No one is expecting you to be perfect every single weekend.”

That gets a laugh out of you. A hysterical breakdown that confused Lando. “You don’t think people expect perfection from me?” He doesn’t answer the question. “Get out. Get out. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to hear from you again. I’m done with you.”

It was Lando’s turn to laugh. The sound mocked you. “What? Over something as small as this? C’mon, you’re not being reasonable.” There it was again, the feeling that he was calling you crazy.

“It’s not about this one situation, it’s about the whole principle of the matter. You’re putting zero effort into this relationship and it’s killing me. And I don’t care if you think I’m being unreasonable because I’ve made up my mind. I’m done with you.” Lando stared, waiting for you to take back what you said, but it was never going to come. Lando scoffed a final time and left the dressing room.

While the weight of the relationship had been taken off your shoulders, your legs couldn’t uphold the weight of your heartbreak any longer. You fell to the floor, hugging your arms around yourself as your own sobs shook your body.

You didn’t hear the door open, but soon felt the arms of someone around you. “No,” you hiccup, pushing the person away, assuming it was Lando. “Hey, it’s just me.” The voice belonged to one of your backup dancers and close friend, and you settled into his arms as he comforted your broken form.