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mockerycrow · 2 years ago

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Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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dekariosclan · 1 year ago

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NSFW Gale Headcanons (18+)

Some (soft and sexy) thoughts about being loved by the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Gale doesn’t “dabble” in things. He has no interest in being a Jack of All Trades. No, Gale wants to master things. He wants to be the best at things: Magic, the Weave, Wizardly knowledge, etc. For him, true joy isn’t in trying something different, but in becoming an expert in his favorite subject. And guess what? His new (and permanent!) favorite subject is YOU.

Gale, while waxing poetic, has often compared himself to a book: “I require only your gentle hands to turn my pages.” And this is true of how he thinks of you, as well. You are his most treasured Tome, one that he intends to study thoroughly again and again, delighting at finding new passages that he may have overlooked, or finding new meaning in a sentence he’s read a thousand times before. And like a beloved novel written by a favorite author, he will never grow tired of reading you.

But he wants more than to just understand you. He wants to know how to captivate you, the way that you’ve captivated him, body and soul. He loves you more than anyone, and he wants to show you, in more ways than just words and professions of love will allow.

He wants to know exactly how to pull you into an embrace and where to place his lips on your neck to make you shiver. What words to whisper into your ear to make your knees go weak. He wants to know what secret fantasies you have, no matter how outlandish they may seem, because aren’t you clever? You’ve gone and made a wizard fall in love with you, and nothing is impossible for a man who can craft illusions with his hands—nevermind what he can do with his tongue.

And Gale wants to indulge you. He wants to please you, because he will never grow tired of seeing the endless depths of love and adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Something he never saw, no matter how hard he looked, or how long he looked, into Mystra’s eyes.

One important note: Gale is a monogamous lover. He is not a boring lover.

He wants to know how to make you cum the fastest. How to make you cum the hardest. He wants to make you scream his name so loudly that the Gods can hear it. He loves to taste you, after a grueling trek, after a cleansing bath, in the night or in the morning. He’s made it his personal mission to worship your body in every way possible.

Gale will run his fingers (and lips) gently over your scars. He doesn’t find them to be imperfections. They are key chapters in the story of you, and all the more precious because they make you real. A real human with real flaws, just like him.

Lingerie will be met with an appreciative rumble from Gale, (he always enjoys discussing what’s on your hind—ah, MIND…) but he honestly finds you gorgeous in all states: Dirty or clean. In or out of your armor. Naked or clothed.

He rather likes it when you tease him, especially on the battlefield, when his eyes are already drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The way you position yourself a certain way to allow him to see a hint of your naked thigh under your armor is always…appreciated.

But if you really want to drive him wild? Buy him a book detailing some new positions for lovemaking that you think he would be interested in (and that you haven’t tried yet) then watch as his eyes roll back in his head with pure lust. And if it’s a first edition copy? He might actually pass out as all the blood leaves his head for…another part of his body.

After you both have worn yourselves out reenacting the positions described, and often (at your insistence) more than once, he’ll lie awake thinking about how much he adores you until you both drift off to sleep.

And then…at other times…

…he’ll lie awake and stare up into the cosmos, his arm around you as you sleep with your head on his chest, and he’ll think of how he once dreamed of becoming a God. And how it was you, and the thought of losing you, that stopped his foolishness, and allowed him to rewrite his story. To prevent it from becoming a tragedy.

Then he’ll press a kiss into your hair, softly, so as not to wake you, and thank all the Gods above that he’s not one of them.

He couldn’t imagine how unbearable eternity would have been, if it meant he couldn’t have you.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3

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luvf4ngz · 10 months ago

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Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him.

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly.

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention.

"You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed.

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him.

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was.

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.”

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?”

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention.

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice."

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied.

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now.

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle.

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen.

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch.

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event.

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things.

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?”

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance.

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest.

This was a much better use of his time.

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast.

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands.

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page.

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you.

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.”

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?”

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body.

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.”

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this.

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!”

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand.

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing.

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.”

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes.

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm.

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist.

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming.

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher.

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping.

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out.

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter.

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you.

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation.

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one.

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly, and he never wants to stop hearing your voice.

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?”

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body.

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you.

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed.

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers.

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame.

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins.

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud.

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face.

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub.

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could.

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths.

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason.

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him.

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you.

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard.

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him.

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him.

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you.

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break.

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue.

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins.

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia.

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew.

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in.

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole.

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore.

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small.

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his.

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips.

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh.

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again.

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt.

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms.

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over.

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat.

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask.

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers.

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language.

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting.

He’s…. big.

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance.

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists.

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter.

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again.

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother.

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside.

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos.

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him.

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.”

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble.

“Isn’t it?” He grins.

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock.

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come.

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body.

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust.

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins.

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat.

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls.

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once.

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp.

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder.

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.”

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred.

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him.

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly.

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

#sumi — dc.#sumi — my love.#sumi — works.#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #dc smut #dc x reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut

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maskedbyghost · 3 months ago

Note

Since you’re bringing happy tears to me right now🥹🩵 can I request more fluff?! Ugly tears fluff?

Like what if it’s Simon & reader’s first Christmas as friends? (More like they’re in between trying to figure out if they’re friends or lovers because they haven’t expressed their real feelings but the connection is there)

Always love your writing!!!!🩵🩵🩵

you and simon had never been anything more than just friends. well, maybe there was something more, but neither of you dared to name it.

after all, he was the first person you’d trusted enough to show your fears, the only one who’d ever known about the nightmares that kept you up some nights. and he… he’d shown you his face once, late one night on a mission, lifting his mask like it was a gift, trusting you with a part of himself that no one else had ever seen.

you’d always been there for each other, in a way that went deeper than most friendships, but neither of you wanted to risk saying too much, scared to mess up something so good.

this christmas, everyone else had gone back to their families, friends, leaving the two of you alone at the base. no one else, just you and simon, two people who’d always kept everyone else at a distance.

so, you’d both decided to leave, to go somewhere far away, where no one knew you, and it could just be the two of you, away from the ghosts of family and friends you didn’t have.

the night was quiet, the kind of silence that felt softer somehow. you and simon sat in a small, dimly lit room in a tucked-away little inn, miles from the base, from the world you knew. it felt right, though; this, here, with him.

you didn’t expect a gift. the idea of him picking something out for you, knowing your thoughts, remembering the little things you shared, was something that caught you off guard when he placed the book in your hands, wrapped in a rough piece of brown paper.

you looked down at it, recognizing the title immediately—the book your dad used to read to you, something you’d only ever mentioned once in passing, but somehow, he’d remembered.

you didn’t mean to cry. it just happened, the way your breath caught in your chest, and tears started falling, slipping down your cheeks as you tried to blink them away, but they kept coming. he watched, looking a little lost, almost panicked, like he’d broken something precious by mistake.

“stop that,” he murmured, voice low, rough, as he reached up, awkwardly brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “didn’t think you’d… react like that.”

you laughed a little, sniffling, but the emotion was still there, too raw, too much, and he seemed to struggle with it, looking at you as though he couldn’t bear it. suddenly, his hand moved to your cheek, and then he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, tentative at first, like he was testing something fragile.

you melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth and comfort that only he could bring, and you realized that this was where you belonged. his kiss was hesitant but sincere, like he’d waited a long time to be close like this.

when he pulled back, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles along your skin, you could see something different in his eyes—something vulnerable, like he’d stripped away every layer he’d ever built to protect himself. it was a side of him he rarely showed, one you’d only caught glimpses of in the dead of night, after long missions, when he’d let his guard down just enough for you to see the man behind the mask.

“didn’t mean to… make you cry,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “just thought… thought it’d make you smile.”

you managed a shaky laugh, still catching your breath as you looked up at him. “you did, simon. it’s… it’s perfect. i just… didn’t expect…” your words trailed off, too heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

he watched you in that intense way of his, studying every inch of your expression, as if he were memorizing this moment, committing every detail to memory. “guess we’re not too good at this, huh?” he said quietly, his tone almost gentle, though there was a hint of self-doubt in his voice that tugged at your heart.

you shook your head, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. “we don’t have to be good at it, simon,” you whispered, letting yourself lean into his touch. “we just… we just have to be us.”

something in his expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. he didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened slightly, as if he were afraid that letting go would mean losing this fragile thing between you.

slowly, he leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath, the quiet steadiness of him grounding you in a way no one else ever could.

you stayed like that, eyes closed, breathing in the quiet comfort of each other, the silence between you filled with everything you didn’t have the courage to say. in that stillness, you felt more at home than you ever had, the weight of loneliness lifting, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the reassurance of his presence.

“we’ll figure this out,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he were making a promise. “you and me… we’ll figure it out.”

your eyes met his again, and in that shared gaze, there was a silent agreement, an understanding that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

--------------------------------------------

hope you like it queen <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley

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imwritingthefout · 6 months ago

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Saturday mornings

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No warnings, just pure fluff

Also crossposted to ao3 you know the gist

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Mornings were always your favourite. More specifically, Saturday mornings.

Something about them always felt so peaceful.

As you woke up, you could feel the warmth emanate from your Ford. as your head lay on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat bump against his ribs, muscle and skin. He's alive. In your bed. Sleeping peacefully.

You lean back a little and balance yourself on your elbow to look at him. His beautiful eyes, his strong jawline, the small amount of stubble that won’t leave no matter how many times he sets his face on fire.

But one more important detail catches your eye; one of your favourite things about him- his wrinkles.

Yes, it might seem weird, dating a guy that much older than you, but you can’t help it. You love him.

You reach out your fingers to trace his smile lines, thinking back to all the times he smiled at you with his gorgeous smile. You see the small amount of crows feet at the corner of his eyes disturb as he awakes from his slumber.

He mutters your name sleepily, in his gravelly morning voice and asks you what you're doing. “I’m just… enjoying this morning” he smiles at you and his smile lines deepen. You can’t help but sigh dreamily as you see them, now more pronounced with joy.

Once ford understands what you’re looking at, he gently grabs your hand and lowers it down. “I know, I know, I'm getting older. You don’t have to remind me” even though he tries to give you a reassuring smile, you can feel his insecurity.

You reach your hand back up and hold his cheek tenderly “it’s alright… I kind of like your wrinkles.” he now looks at you with shock, those worry lines on his forehead show as his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t you think they look…?” he doesn’t finish the sentence, almost like if he spoke it into existence, you might suddenly change your mind.

“Of course I don't. I think they’re beautiful. They remind me of how much you’ve lived, what you’ve been through: every wrinkle holds a different emotion, a different story. I want to read them all, understand when they came to be and how” you emphasise your point by rubbing each spot, moving your fingers from his lips, up towards his nose, following his bone structure towards his eyebrows and up to his forehead, down his temples and near his eyes (they flutter a bit and you can’t help but think of how cute that looks). You massage the creases of worry away. “I think you're beautiful, and i don’t want you to forget that” you end your statement with a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you…” he rubs your shoulder, down your forearm and back up to your cheek to pull you into another kiss. “I think you’re the most beautiful person I've ever met. Inside and out.”

“Well I guess you haven’t looked in a mirror ever. Or you’re a vampire" Ford laughs at that comment and tackles you in a hug. He leans over you with a smile “but genuinely; thank you”. He kisses you one more time before going back to leaning on your chest.

This is why you love Saturdays.

More accurately, you just love Ford.

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines fluff #fluff

300 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 1 year ago

Text

this night together - chapter fourteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter fourteen: what we mean to each other

chapter summary: making amends is hard, moving on is hard, but you have a home now in a way you've never had before. together, you move forward through it all.

warnings/notes: this chapter still deals with the aftermath of the attack, so all previous warnings apply, but i think you'll see we're coming out of it now and into much happier times. this is the start of an absolute fluff fest, and we'll be back to smut in the next chapter. specific warnings for: discussions of physical attack, anxiety, ptsd, consent conversations, past s*xual assault (mentioned in passing), issues with police and the legal system because lbr the cops aren't doing anything good for assault victims, and reader has a triggering moment with her neck but she works through it just fine

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 14.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

It’s been days. Days of staying safe behind the walls of their apartment, days of dodging calls from your friends, days of cocooned self preservation. They haven’t left you for a single minute. You spent the weekend trading off who’s lap you were cuddled on and bickering over episodes of Single’s Inferno and you’ve never needed anything more.

Slowly though, things start to shift.

You’re showered, for one. And Yunho and Mingi both have settled back into their routines as best they can without leaving the apartment. Video games, mindless scrolling, paging through books and cooking balanced meals instead of another day of takeout.

On Monday, Seonghwa confirms your worst suspicions by texting you a photo of the formal letter he received via Minseok’s attorney. You expect Yunho and Mingi’s are in the mail. Every time your phone chimes you expect it to be the police or some other official legal summons. Your mind has started to turn over every detail of the event with calculated detail, and your internet history stretches long with research.

By Tuesday, you’ve caved and finally started answering Wooyoung’s texts with more than just single word responses or emoji confirmations that you’re still alive. The moment you do, he takes the opening and runs with it just like you knew he would.

As you wait for the hot water for your tea to boil in the kettle, you re-read his most recent text again.

Do you want to get out of the house for a bit? We can try that new spot by the bookstore?

Your stomach feels tight at the idea of going out and you do your best to tap out a reply that you think sounds casual and relaxed - Maybe next time, let’s just catch up and relax here?

You watch the message send and deliver and in nearly real-time it flicks over to read. Dots appear as he types.

Sure - his message reads - I’ll be there in an hour

An hour. You shouldn’t be so nervous to see your best friend, but the idea of opening up your little sanctuary to anyone right now feels a little fraught. The kettle whistles, and you hear feet shuffling against the vinyl flooring as Yunho crosses over into the kitchen and you lock your phone and Wooyoung’s messages away so you can focus.

“Hey,” You murmur, giving him a smile as you pull the kettle off the heat.

“Hey,” Yunho smiles back, leaning against the opposite counter, “everything okay?”

“Mhm,” You tell him, just a little white lie.

“Is Woo still coming by?” He questions.

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the kettle on a pad so it doesn’t damage the countertop, “he said around an hour,”

Yunho nods and then slides a bit closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your back once until he settles it on your hip. “Hey,” he says again, “can we talk?”

A nervous pang strikes in your gut, but he doesn’t look upset, so you take a guess at what he wants, “Is it okay that he’s coming?”

“Wooyoung?” His brows draw together, “Of course, that’s not what I meant,”

“Oh,” You turn towards him more fully, leaning against the counter with him, “okay, what’s up?”

“I want to apologize,” He says, swallowing tightly.

“Apologize,” You blink.

He nods.

“Okay,” You can see how whatever he’s about to say is bothering him, the stress under the surface, but you have no idea what he’s sorry for.

“Listen,” He reaches and takes your hand, pulling you a little closer to him, “I know you know I’m sorry, but I haven’t said it clearly and you deserve that,”

“Oh,” You relax further into his space until you can feel your bodies brushing together, the warmth radiating off his skin.

“The way I reacted at the studio after your last heat was wrong,” He says in a rush of air as he laces your hands together, “and I haven’t gotten the chance to really say that,”

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, soothing him a little, “you don’t have to,”

“No,” He insists with a squeeze of your fingers, “I do. That day, I was worried and jealous and confused, but I let my anger get the better of me and that’s not something I normally do.”

You squeeze his fingers back, letting him know you’re listening.

His eyes flick up from your joined hands to your eyes as he continues, “It’s not something I should have ever put on you or something you should ever see,”

“People get angry,” You start to say.

He’s firm when he shakes his head, “People get angry, but I don’t get angry at you. Ever.”

“Yunho,”

“I yelled at you,” He squeezes your hands, “I cursed at you,”

“I did the same thing right back,” You remind him.

“It’s not the same,” He presses, brushing right past your words, “and I’m apologizing because I’m telling you, y/n, it will never happen again.”

“You think we’ll never have a fight?” You smile, “That’s optimistic,”

“This isn’t a joke,” He sighs, “please,”

“I’m sorry,” You tuck closer to him, unlacing your hands so you can snake your arms around his middle, “and I appreciate you apologizing for that fight, but I was upset you were being possessive and emotional after all the cold shoulder, you yelling wasn’t really high on my list of concerns,”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he nods, “I’ll get to that in a second, but will you hear me on this one thing?”

“I’m listening,”

“I hate to bring it up again,” He grimaces a little, “but I’ve just spent four days watching you jump at every noise around the apartment and wake up every night fucking terrified,”

Your eyes shoot down.

“And before I apologize for all the other ways I’ve been an ass to you,” His warm hands settle on your skin, thumb brushing along your jaw, “of which I know there are many,”

You smile at that.

“Yelling at you like that,” He sighs, “talking to you like that has been bothering me for months. I need to apologize for it because I need you to know that you’ll never, ever hear it again. Mingi said his peace, but it’s important to me that you know you’re safe with me in every way. If we’re going to do this, I need you to know you can tell me anything, including telling me off when I make mistakes, and I won’t get angry like that again.”

“I already know that,” You look up, meeting his firm gaze and reaching for his cheek, “and I hope you understand that I know the difference between how you were angry then and what he did and how he spoke to me.”

“I just had to say it,” He nods, “I would hate it if anything I ever did made you afraid to be honest with me, or made you feel like you’ve been feeling the past few days, I’d never,”

“Baby,” You cup his cheeks in both hands, holding his eyes so he hears you fully, “I forgive you, and I am not afraid or uncomfortable with you or with Mingi. Not at all.”

“Good,” He exhales hard, his eyes a little shiny and you press forward to wrap your arms around him and hug him close, his arms closing around your back.

“If you’re being idiots,” You kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “I’ll tell you you’re being idiots,”

He laughs low, the vibration running through your chest, “Good.”

“And if I’m being an idiot,” You add, “I’m not going to freak out if you get pissed at me or yell at me,”

“I appreciate that,” He squeezes your shoulders, “but I don’t want to be the guy that yells, that’s not really an alpha stereotype I’ve ever wanted to fit.”

“Okay,” You nod against him.

He clears his throat a little roughly and you’re about to pull away but he holds you steady for a moment, “There’s one more thing,”

Your hand strokes a line down his back, as you hum softly, “Hmm?”

“I have more to say and to apologize for,” You can feel his heart beating a little faster under your cheek and you stroke his back again, “but I’m still figuring out how to do that, and it might not be fair of me to ask, but I wanted to see if you can be patient with me for that.”

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?”

“I, uh,” His fingers flex tightly against your skin, “I started seeing someone,”

“Someone?”

“Professionally,” He adds, “Mingi used to and I know it helped. I didn’t think I needed to, but I think we can both agree I am not the best at managing my own emotions here,”

“Oh,”

“So,” He breathes, “after our fight, when I finally cooled off and realized what we did I asked him for a referral. I’ve been meeting with her once a week and it’s been helpful, but I’m not ready to apologize to you for the rest of it until I understand why I treated you like that,”

Emotion fills your chest like a balloon and you nod into him, “Yunho,”

He clears his throat again, “Sorry,” he says, “this is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about, but I’m working on it,”

You wriggle out of his arms to find his face again and press up on your tiptoes to catch his mouth, kissing him with as much surety as you can before you lean back, “That means everything to me,” you tell him, “everything. You have all the time in the world from me, okay?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, “good, okay,”

“Is it helping?”

“Definitely,” He nods, “it’s almost like the professionals know what they’re talking about,”

You smile up at him.

“I know I mentioned it before,” He adds quickly, “and I won’t press it, but if you do feel like it would be helpful for you too, you can come to me and I can ask my therapist for some numbers for you to call. I’ll even help set up an appointment if you need that,”

Your chest goes tight at the thought, “I’ll let you know,”

“Okay,” He smooths a hand up and down your back, “no pressure,”

“For sure,” You manage.

His lip quirks up and he presses a long kiss to your forehead as he gives you one more squeeze, “I said I won’t press, don’t panic,”

“Sorry,” You breathe.

He makes a noise dismissing that and then steps back, “So,” his eyes are bright again, everything equalizing back to normal with his smile, “you were making tea, can I help?”

Your shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of you in an instant, “No,” you turn back to the warm kettle, “but can I make you a cup?”

“Sure,” He pulls two teacups down from the cupboard, “so Woo will be here in an hour?”

“Mhm,” You tap your phone to light up the screen to check for any other texts.

“Got it,” He nods, “would you feel alright with Mingi and I stepping out for a while?”

“Out?”

“I need to run by the studio and check in on things,” He explains, “and we need to get some food in here. I figured we could do that while Wooyoung keeps you company,”

“Yeah,” Your heart picks up a little at the thought, but you press that feeling down and drop a teabag in each of your cups, “I’ll be just fine,”

“Good,” He drops another kiss to your hair, keeping his fingers lingering on your skin while you pour hot water into your cups.

“Do you,” You almost stop the question, but you find the words bubbling out of your mouth before you can second guess, “do you need to leave right away?”

Yunho smiles wide, taking the kettle from your hands as he shakes his head, “No,”

Your heart eases a little.

“Let’s have these together,” He nods to the tea and picks up both cups, “we’ll go when Woo gets here,”

You follow him out into the living room, and he sets the cups down on the table before settling himself into the corner cushions and reaching up for you. It’s easy to take his hand and to melt into the familiar position on his lap, and you let him draw you in close and cuddle you, his arms wrapped securely around you as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose.

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest and turning your face a little to catch his mouth in a kiss.

He hums pleasantly against your mouth, “Is it strange to say that I’ll miss you while we’re out?”

You smile, shaking your head, “No,”

“Will you miss us?” He pecks your lips again.

“More than I want to admit,”

“You know,” Yunho smooths his hands over your body to rest in their familiar homes, one on your thigh and the other curled around your waist, “I hate what happened, and I wish I could take all the bad memories away, but I’m also so glad you’re here with us,”

“I know what you mean,” You nod.

“The months we spent apart were terrible,” He confesses, kissing you softly.

“We’ll have to make up for lost time,” You agree quietly.

“A proper date,” He smiles, “or a vacation somewhere warm?”

“Mm,” You hum, thinking of being stretched out on a beach somewhere with your boys on either side of you, “perfect,”

“I’ll think on that,” He runs a hand down your hair and relaxes back into the couch, “you deserve something nice,”

Twisting on his lap you reach for both of your teacups before settling back into the same, comfortable position, “I think it would just be nice to come over here without having something traumatic happen beforehand,”

He frowns a little.

“I’m kidding,” You nudge him softly, “kind of,”

“I know,” He nods, “still,”

“Yeah,” You quietly agree, taking the first sip of your tea.

Yunho takes a sip too, and then hums a short, quick laugh, “This smells like you,”

“Like me?”

“The tea,” He takes another sip and nods, “you smell just the same, but sweeter,”

“Do you like it?” You find yourself asking.

Yunho’s head cocks slightly to the side, a line between his brows, and then he says, “Have I not made it clear how much I love your scent?”

Your cheeks heat and he smiles at the way your skin reddens.

“Sweetheart,” He shifts, pulling you in while still being careful of the tea, pressing warm, lingering kisses over your jaw to the hollow of your ear, “if I could drink you instead, I would.”

You swallow, heat curling in your belly.

“Soothing tea,” He murmurs, “sweet honey,” he adds with a kiss, “and the willow is sharp and fresh. You wake me up and calm me down all at the same time,”

Your pulse quickens, and slowly your head drops to the side, extending the column of your neck to his lips.

He takes it slow, remembering the way you jerked back in bed a few nights before, and he’s careful not to press too firmly or give you any inclination that he’s going to touch you with anything but his lips.

“You smell like home,” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your head in his wide palm, kissing just a little lower still.

Your muscles are stiffening up at the feeling of his mouth getting lower towards your exposed gland and your fingers tighten on his shirt where you hold yourself steady.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers, “stay with me,”

You nod, just a little, enough to tell him not to stop, “W-what else?”

He smiles against your throat, “Well,” he kisses again, to punctuate his words, “when you’re happy, really happy or excited, there’s lemon too,”

Your breath feels staggered, thready, and you focus on the feeling of him and the warmth of the teacups against your thigh.

“When you want us,” He takes a deep inhale, sighing hot against your skin, “it’s all honey, thick and syrupy. After your heat I smelled that honey here for weeks,”

You feel a whine building a little in your throat, and you bite down on your lip to keep it buried. Your body feels like it’s fighting itself with every touch of his mouth, hot arousal knots up at his scent mingling with yours and at his words, but the isolated touch alone has you fighting little flashes of a place that isn’t here and isn’t him.

“I’ve got you,” He repeats, “I love you,”

The reply settles on the tip of your tongue, but then he presses one last closed-lipped kiss directly over your gland and withdrawals entirely. You blink hard, a shudder running up your spine.

“Alright?” He checks, smoothing his hand down your hair again.

You nod, letting your fingers unknot from his shirt while you collect yourself.

“Hopefully that answers your question,” He clears his throat softly.

You start to nod, but the sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the moment and you start, tea spilling over the lip of your cup onto your fingers.

“It’s Mingi, baby,” He assures you.

“I know,” You have to tear your eyes off the hallway though.

His mouth is set in a concerned little line, and you know he’s probably thinking about your conversation in the kitchen again, but he lets it lie and doesn’t push it, just like he promised.

Mingi appears a moment later, a towel slung around his hips and his shoulders and hair wet from the shower. He smiles widely when he sees you both, “What’s going on in here?”

Yunho raises up his cup, “Tea,” he smiles, “nothing much,”

“Mm,” Mingi nods and stretches, “nice,”

“Will you be ready soon?” Yunho asks, “Wooyoung will be here in a bit,”

“Yeah, sure,” He confirms and then glances at you, “you’re good with us going out?”

“I’m good,” You confirm.

“I’ll stay if it would make you feel better,” Mingi adds, “I can hide in the bedroom and listen to music or something if you want privacy,”

You love them both so much in this moment you feel like your chest might crack right open on its own, and you shake your head at him with a smile, “No, I have to get comfortable at some point, it might as well be while Woo is here with me,”

He nods, “Well, we won’t be too far, just call us and we’ll turn around.”

“Thank you,” You reach up to take his hand and he twines his fingers with yours immediately.

Yunho shifts, pressing his lips against your shoulder, “Are you and Woo going out anywhere?”

He’s clearly trying to be subtle, but you hear the anxious note in his voice and it occurs to you that they might be just as nervous leaving you as you are staying here without them.

You shake your head, “No, just staying here,”

“That’s good,” Mingi adds a little too quickly, “if you do go out, would you let us know?”

“I will,” You promise them, “but you don’t have to worry,”

“It’s in our nature to worry over you,” Yunho sighs, “but I think we’re both trying not to be overbearing about this whole thing,”

“Trying,” Mingi shrugs, “but also the idea of not knowing where you are feels like it might give me hives,”

You laugh at the image, easing back into Yunho’s chest.

“To be clear,” Yunho shoots Mingi a look, “that’s in a nice ‘we care about you’ way, not in a ‘controlling boyfriend’ kind of way,”

“Relax,” You tell them both, “I get why you want to know, it’s the same reason I want to know where you are.”

“Studio first,” Mingi offers without you asking and your chest warms, “then groceries, and then I want to swing by that cafe that has that caramel cheesecake you like, then home,”

“Don’t say we don’t have to,” Yunho adds, “we want to,”

You smile as he takes the words right out of your mouth.

“Plus, I want some,” Mingi says with ease.

You’re not used to this type of relationship yet, having alphas of your own who actually want to be with you and take care of you, who worry for you and feel for you in all the deep nervous ways you feel for them. You hush the nagging voice in your mind that tries to tell you not to show them how much you need them, the voice that doesn’t want you to jump too fast, you already know what you get by listening to that voice.

Instead you ask them what you want to ask, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Two hours,” Yunho offers, “maybe three at the most,”

“Okay,” You exhale, weight dropping away from your shoulders, “that’s perfect,”

“We’ll let you know,” Mingi adds, “and if you need anything special while we’re out, we can stop,”

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” You assure them, “a little anxious, but you know, it’s good for me.”

Mingi smiles warmly, brushing his hand over your cheek and tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, “We’re a phone call away,”

“I know,” You nod.

Yunho sighs as Mingi’s hand drops away, and he kisses your shoulder again, “It’s funny,” he says, “I really don’t want to leave you,”

“We did just spend three months not seeing each other and in a state of constant relationship limbo,” You point out and give him a squeeze, “we really went from nothing to a whole lot of something fast,”

“Not too fast?” Mingi checks, trying to sound casual.

“No,” You say, “and even if it is, I don’t care,”

“We’ve always felt right together,” Yunho adds, “we’re just letting ourselves enjoy it now,”

He’s never said something so true.

Mingi gets dressed and collapses onto the couch next to both, pushing closer into your space with Yunho until you’re both practically on his lap, but it works. You stay knit close together until there’s a knock on the door and then it’s fast kisses goodbye and big hugs from your best friend, and before you can really process it you’re without them for the first time in days.

Your stomach is fluttering, a nervous quiver deep in your gut that you really don’t want Wooyoung to over-analyze. A moment later you find yourself back on the couch in the warm spot Yunho left, wrapping yourself in the blanket you had all shared the night before. You can smell them on it, earthy, warm, and sweet.

Wooyoung watches as you start to relax, and he takes a seat right next to you to keep close, a closed smile on his lips.

You can’t believe you miss them already.

They must miss you too though, because Mingi only makes it a scant ten minutes before he texts you, his message lighting up your phone - Forgot to say I love you - I love you.

“What?” Wooyoung nudges you under the blanket.

You pass your phone to him and he reads the message, his eyebrows shooting up high, “I leave you alone for a few days and you’re all saying ‘I love you’s?”

You grab the phone back and tuck it away, “That’s the thing about life changing trauma,” you laugh, “it really accelerates the big feelings,”

Wooyoung nods, keeping things light, but finds your hand on the back of the couch so he can hold it.

“Also we’re not all saying it,” You confess, “they’re saying it,”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they’ve told me,” You explain, “the day after the studio we had this big talk,”

“Don’t tell me they put all that shit on you like that,” He wraps his hand around yours, “y/n,”

“Not like that,” You shake your head, “it’s actually hysterical, they thought that Seonghwa and I have been dating,”

His eyes go wide, “What?”

“It’s truly the longest story of miscommunication,” You tell him, “at this point I think someone should write a book about me and make it a romantic comedy,”

“Erotica,” Wooyoung smirks.

“Shut up,” You swat at him.

“There have been too many good orgasms for a romcom,” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, “Anyways, it turns out the whole not talking period while you were all away was just me pining but feeling like I fucked it up, and them pining but thinking I had moved on with Hwa,”

“Damn,”

“But when they realized that they were wrong about that,” You continue, “we just got it all out there,”

“And they love you,” He smiles a little, “and they actually said it,”

“Yeah,” You soften into the cushions.

“I hate to ask the obvious,” He squeezes your hand, “but if you’re so happy about that, why haven’t you told them? You do love them?”

“So much,” The words fly out like you’re defending something, and you run a hand through your hair as you get your real thoughts steady, “I do, Woo, so much. We’re scent matches,”

“I know,” He nods warmly.

“You do?”

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Wooyoung smiles, “well, apart from you three.”

“Thanks,”

He nudges your thigh with his foot under the blanket, “Honestly, though, after what happened I could see it on them. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and they kept flanking you, watching you like you might disappear,”

A memory of the studio plays like a clip in your mind, the way they held you between them, the three of you against everything. You nod, “They’ve been doing that for days,”

“Which…” Wooyoung trails off, trying to guess where your head is, “you’re happy about?”

“I am,” You nod emphatically, “and I love them, I just… I can’t get the fucking words out of my mouth,”

He sobers a little, sliding closer to you on the couch so he can draw your legs over his lap and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need, “I’m listening, babe, talk to me,”

“I don’t know why,” You hold his hand tighter, “but every time they say it, and I think I’m going to say it back, I’m right back in that room with Minseok’s teeth on my neck and I can’t,” your chest feels tight, “I can’t get it out,”

His eyes soften, empathetic in the way that only he can be, “Does being in love with them scare you?”

“No!” You pull your hand back from his.

“Babe,” He takes your hand back and holds tight, “I’m not saying they scare you, I’m saying does being in love, being vulnerable like that scare you?”

Your shoulders drop, “A little, but,”

“But?”

“I thought about it for three months,” You argue, “I had it rehearsed, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and the big reveal was supposed to be the ‘I love you’ part not the ‘I’m sorry’ part,”

“Your plans on that kind of fell apart when that asshole tried to claim you,” Wooyoung pushes back a little.

“Yeah, no shit,” A flurry of anger bubbles in your belly.

He nods, “And now you’re off kilter,”

“You could say that,”

“You rarely do anything without thinking it through,” He offers, this thumb drawing a comforting line over your palm, “and your plan got fucked, and you’re emotionally vulnerable, and traumatized, and stressed. You feel like you’re out here without a life vest,”

His words stun you silent.

“And this thing you worked up in your mind for three months is now totally derailed,” He continues, “am I on the money?”

You nod.

“Can I ask you something?” He says.

You nod again.

Wooyoung asks this question softly, his voice quiet and gentle, “Do you want to bond with them?”

Your heart thumps in your chest.

“It’s just you and me,” Wooyoung soothes you, “and whether or not you bond with them is your choice, okay? But, babe, is that something you think you’ll want?”

Suddenly you remember the feeling of your heat with them. The way you begged for them, the way it felt so right and so sure that you belonged to each other. You remember how your mind spun imaginary futures that all ended the same way.

Silently, you nod.

“Loving them isn’t bonding,” He murmurs, “you can just love them for now at your own pace.”

Tears prick at the back of your eyes, “What if I can never do it? They can barely touch my neck without me falling apart, what if I can never take a real claim?”

“Oh, babe,” He pulls you towards him, crushing you to his chest, “I wish you called me earlier, you shouldn’t be thinking like this,”

“It was so terrible,” You confess into his shoulder, “I can’t even tell you, I don’t even know how to explain,”

“You don’t have to,” He hushes you, a hand stroking up and down your back, “and I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt, but I know right now you feel like there’s no way you’d ever be able to take a claim without it being scary and awful, but someday you might be able to without even thinking of him.”

A few hot tears escape your eyes.

“And I know I give Yunho and Mingi shit,” He adds, “but you know that both of them would rather die than do something to hurt you or scare you,”

“And if I can never bond?” You manage.

“Then I’d say thank god your scent matches are two men who would never, ever push you into a bond you weren’t ready for,” He says, squeezing you tight, “and I think if you asked them, they’d tell you that they’d rather be with you unbonded and happy than bonded and in pain.”

“You’re right,” You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, “I know you’re right,”

“They’re not going to try to push you into a bond just because you love each other,” He lets you lean back but he slides his hand back into yours, “especially not now,”

“I know that,” You sigh, “rationally, I was just,”

“I’m telling you, I get it,” He eases you, “sometimes you go through something and you think a part of you is wrecked forever, that you’ll never be able to do something again or feel normal again, but you will. I promise,”

You know the truth of him so suddenly you can’t stop the words, “Woo,” you feel your heart beating faster, “did something happen?”

“A long, long time ago,” He says softly, “and today’s not the day for that story, but I’m telling you it does get better and it does soften in your memory and someday your alphas are going to touch your neck and you won’t even think about it, it just won’t be there anymore.”

Grief and relief mingle in your gut at his words, and you want to ask him more, to be there for him like he’s been there for you but you can see it in his face, today isn’t the day for that story.

You squeeze his hand, “I love you, Woo,”

“I love you too,” He assures you.

Silence sits between you for a moment while you turn over his words, and though you can’t imagine the day he’s describing, you still believe him. You have to. You don’t know what happened to him or when, but you’ve never met someone as bright and open and happy as him, and you have to hold onto that truth.

You look down at your combined hands, “Yunho offered to make an appointment with a therapist for me,”

“Say yes,” Wooyoung replies without a thought, “I waited years and I wish I hadn’t,”

“Yeah?”

“Does he have a contact?” Wooyoung asks, drawing your eyes back up, “I have some options for you if not,”

“He said he can ask his therapist for a referral,”

“His therapist?” Wooyoung grins, “I knew I liked him,”

“You’ve been friends for years,” You nudge him.

“Liked him for you,” He corrects, “that’s different,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“My best friend deserves an alpha who is fully therapized and capable of complex emotions,” Wooyoung says with confidence, “nothing less.”

“Don’t mention that I told you,” You add quickly, “he told me that in confidence, it just slipped out,”

“I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “that’s private. But between you and me, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“And as far as you going?” Wooyoung circles back to the real question at hand, “Say yes, the sooner the better. If Yunho’s offering to help set it up, let him. Making that call is hard, and if he can make it easier, just say yes.”

“Okay,” You sigh, your shoulders dropping.

“And tell them how you’re feeling about bonding,” He adds, “trust me.”

“Maybe,” You say, “I know you’re right. We’re just moving so fast,”

“So slow down,” He offers.

“I don’t know if I want to,” You admit, warmth and nervous energy filling your chest, “it feels right like this, I just don’t know if I can handle a claim,”

“Tell them,” He reiterates, “don’t let them stumble into that one, they might hurt you without even knowing it if they bring it up sooner than you’re ready for.”

“Right,” You nod, “you’re right,”

He huffs a laugh, “Usually am,”

You flick his arm, rolling your eyes, so grateful at him for helping you work through something this hard while still keeping you smiling. You should have called him earlier, he’s right about that too.

You let silence stretch around you both for a moment, and then something occurs to you.

“Do you know anything about the charges Minseok is filing?” You run a hand through your hair, “Not to bring up yet another pleasant subject,”

Wooyoung snorts a little air through his nose and shrugs, “I probably know what you know, have you talked to Hwa?”

You shake your head.

“At all?” He seems surprised.

“I have,” You correct, “but it was quick and we were all on the call. I haven’t been to my place to see if there’s any mail, but I’d guess Yunho and Mingi will get a summons soon.”

Wooyoung nods, “That’s what the police said,”

Your eyebrows raise, “You talked to the police?”

“Seonghwa did,” He clarifies, “and he gave San and I the run down.”

“Why is no one telling me what’s going on?” You exhale heavily.

“Because last we heard you were having nightmares,” Wooyoung rests a hand on your folded legs, “and we don’t have a lot of information to give, and I don’t think any of us want to cause you more stress than you need.”

“Do Yunho and Mingi know?” You press.

“Not exactly,” Wooyoung says, “though, I guess Seonghwa might be telling them now if they stopped by the studio,”

You wait for him to continue, but you’re a little relieved at least that your boys aren’t keeping anything from you directly.

“Seonghwa spoke to the police who explained the charges. Minseok is alleging that the guys misunderstood what they saw and ignored his attempts to explain, and that they used unnecessary force intervening on your behalf.” He says it plainly.

“Misunderstood?” You repeat the word.

“I know,” Wooyoung nods, “we all know, but that’s what he’s saying. The police advised Seonghwa to get an attorney and let him know that further charges were being filed. I think we can safely assume that’s Yunho and Mingi, maybe San if he’s really going after it.”

“Maybe me too,” You add.

“Maybe,” He nods, “but that would be tough to prove I think,”

“Hmm,” Your eyes feel a little unfocused.

“Hey,” Wooyoung gets your attention with a squeeze, “we don’t know anything yet, and we thought this might happen. It doesn’t change the truth and it doesn’t mean any of them regret what they did to make sure you were safe, okay?”

“Yeah,”

“Tell me you understand,” He presses, “because I’m not letting you put this one on yourself,”

“I do, I understand,” You nod, “it just sucks,”

“That’s fair,” He gives you a soft smile, “but it’s going to take a lot more than this to fuck us over,”

“Yeah,” You murmur, “you’re probably right.”

Wooyoung says something else but you hardly hear it, in the back of your mind all you can think of is that first night at the hospital. The detectives who interviewed you were kind, but bordered on dismissive, and you know Minseok and his family have deeper pockets than you do. You have to figure this out, you have to.

“Babe?” Wooyoung nudges you.

“Yeah,” You snap up, coming back to the present moment and letting those anxieties fade into the background until you can really think them through, “sorry,”

“It’s okay,” He soothes you.

Your phone buzzes on your lap again and you pull it up to see the message. It’s Mingi again - Budae Jjigae for dinner, ask Wooyoung if he wants to stay? We’ll have plenty

It’s like he felt your anxiety from miles away and you can feel the tense knot of your shoulders unlocking. You send back a quick heart emoji and then look back up to your friend, “You want to stay for dinner?”

He smiles, “Who’s cooking?”

“Mingi,” You tell him, “he’s been on a comfort food kick for me,”

Wooyoung smiles, “I’ll stay,”

“Great,” You tap out a reply to Mingi letting him know and take a big sigh.

“They make you happy,” Wooyoung says, “it’s nice to see,”

“It’s nice to feel,” You tell him, “after all this time, and after everything,”

“You deserve it,” He murmurs.

You smile, a little tease at the corner of your mouth when you nudge him, “So do you, and speaking of,”

His face lights up fast, “I wasn’t trying to bring my too-good mood over here if things weren’t going well,” he sighs, “but now that I know you’re all in love,”

“So you and Yeosang?” You turn the conversation to something so much happier, and feel lighter the second you do.

“It’s so good,” He gushes, head falling back against the cushions, “he’s kind of quiet, kind of hard to get to know at first, but y/n, he’s so funny,”

“Yeah?” You smile.

“And smart,” He adds, “and considerate, he’s always getting me coffees or refilling my water, just like, those little things,”

“Wow, look at you,” You squeeze his hand, “serial dater of alphas, turned into a blushy mess over a funny, smart, considerate beta,”

“He’s packing like an alpha, I’ll say that,” Wooyoung grins wolfishly.

You smack his chest, “Woo! Literally that is too much information,”

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “I share a locker room with your boyfriends, I know what you’re working with,”

You feel your face flush red.

“Cute,” He teases.

“So,” You divert, “does Yeosang feel as strongly?”

His smile drops a little, “I mean,” he says, “I think so? But he’s not really an oversharer,”

“Have you told anyone else?” You try to be casual about that question, but if you’re being honest you’re dying to know where things will land with San and Seonghwa.

Wooyoung shakes his head though, “Not yet, but I think when everything calms down I might have him pick me up at the studio or something? I want you to meet him and I want everyone to know, I just,”

“I get it,” You assure him, “you go at your own pace.”

“Yeah,” He sighs.

“Just don’t follow my lead,” You smile, “if you like him, don’t run away in a panic,”

“Noted,” He laughs.

He looks so happy, bright from the inside in a way that matches his sunny scent, and you think he’s not far from sharing ‘I love you’s of his own at this rate.

You squeeze his hand again and catch his attention back, “You really look so happy,” you tell him.

“I am,” He sighs, “he’s exactly what I needed,”

You smile, and then push his legs to the side, “Move over, I know you have pictures, you’re holding out,”

He laughs sharply, head falling back but letting you manhandle him a little so you can snuggle into his side. Wooyoung tugs the blanket around you both and pulls out his phone, “Fine,”

“Like it’s a burden to show your best friend pictures of your hot new boyfriend,” You smack his chest, “come on,”

Wooyoung drops his arm around your shoulders until you’re slotted together on the corner of the couch, but he still hasn’t lit up his phone. You’re about to nudge him again, but then you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair.

“You know,” He says softly, “when Sannie called me and told me what happened, I just felt so sick,”

You find his other hand under the covers and lace your fingers together, “I’m okay,”

He nods, sighing into your skin, “I just want you to know,” he says, his voice a little tight, “you mean so much to me, and I’ll be grateful to them forever for stopping him,”

You blink back a few tears and nod, “I am okay, though,”

He nods again and clears his throat, “I know,”

“I think you’re avoiding my questions about Yeosang,” You squeeze his hand tightly, an acknowledgement of his emotions and his words, while steering the conversation back to happier topics.

“You’re right,” He laughs, “you caught me.”

“Come on,” You nudge him again, pushing down the little swell of emotion that his words brought up.

“He’s not really a selfie guy,” Wooyoung slides his finger across his phone screen until he finds Instagram and then navigates to his new man’s page, “but, I don’t know, I think you’ll like his vibe.”

Your face cracks into a wide smile when you see the profile, clearly that of an artist, a photographer. The first post on his page is of Wooyoung, though you’d have to know Wooyoung well to know it. He’s walking away from camera through a dark Itaewon street, the lines of his body accented by the neon club signs.

“Oh, Woo,” You relax against him and open that photo to see it larger, “he really likes you,”

He snatches the phone away, a little pink in his cheeks as he rushes to downplay the truth of what you can see plain as day, and you fight to get back the phone, your cheeks starting to hurt from how much you’ve been laughing.

You and Wooyoung stay like this for ages, warmly locked together as you swap stories and funny things on both your phones. By the time your phone chimes with another text from Mingi, at least two hours have gone by.

Almost home! His message reads.

Your chest feels warm, your heart whole at the words.

“They’ll be back in a minute,” You tell Wooyoung as you set your phone aside.

“Perfect,” He grins, “so exactly how much teasing can I get away with before you get mad?”

You fall apart again into laughter, happy tears stinging at your eyes. You don’t hear the front door open at first, but when you finally look up you see them standing frozen in the doorway with such softness in their expressions. You feel the words bubble up at the sight of them, but again they stay resting at the tip of your tongue.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch, “Alright, alright stop making heart eyes at each other and tell me what’s in the box,”

Your eyes flick down to the large white box in Mingi’s hand, the perfect cheesecake nestled inside waiting just for you. Wooyoung takes a few grocery bags out of their hands and heads off to the kitchen, and just like that your night falls together naturally.

You don’t think about Minseok again until later that night. For a beautiful, blissful four hours you just laughed and ate and relaxed with your best friend and your boyfriends, and he doesn’t enter your brain at all.

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed alone with your thoughts, Yunho and Mingi deep asleep on either side of you, that you realize what you have to do.

In the morning you wake from a dreamless sleep, and you start to put your plan in motion. You slip out of bed and leave them to their rest, light only just stretching its way through the Seoul skies outside. Seeing Wooyoung made you feel lighter in a way that you can’t explain, and within minutes you’re scrawling out a note, stealing Mingi’s key, and lacing up your sneakers.

Out for a walk, be back in a little while, don’t worry too much x

You leave it on their kitchen counter and you hope it’s enough to keep them from looking for you. You need a little space from your own scared reflection in the mirror, and a new perspective on the plan you’ve been turning over since your head hit the pillows last night.

The note isn’t a lie, strictly speaking, you are out for a walk, but you also know if you told them exactly where you were on a walk to, they'd worry. They wouldn’t just worry, they would have insisted on coming with you, but this is something you have to do alone.

You take the long way to the hospital down the river path, letting the cool day calm your mind and keep you centered. You go over in your mind all the things you want to say to him when you see him, assuming you actually make it into his room. You wonder how hard it will be to convince him. You wonder if you’ll even be able to get a single word out of your mouth.

You have to try.

Yunho’s words from yesterday morning in the kitchen sink into you. The tenderness in his eyes when he mentioned how jumpy you’ve been around the apartment. You hadn’t even realized it, but now you feel it in your shoulders and your stomach with the sound of every opening door, every squeak of a shoe on vinyl flooring. Everytime you look up into a mirror you expect to see a face over your shoulder, to feel hands on your hips.

Minseok had taken so many little things from you in the span of three minutes.

You need to take something back.

Every step leading into the hospital is heart pounding and nerve wracking, stress inducing on a level you’ve never experienced, but standing in front of reception you suddenly feel an overwhelming calm. Your mind is clear, operating on something wholly unconscious and you don’t know where you’ve mustered this feeling from, but you let it take you.

You give over Minseok’s full name and provide the kindest smile you can to the woman behind the desk,“I’m his sister,” you tell her. The lie rolls right off your tongue, so clean and easy you surprise yourself.

“Oh,” The nurse nods, “well visiting hours don’t start until eleven,”

“I have work,” You counter, softening your face, “I’m sorry, but do you think you could make an exception? I’ll be very quick, I just want to see him for a few minutes before I have to run,”

She considers it, and you know you have her the minute she checks the nurse’s station to see who else is there with her before she breaks a rule, “Alright, but just be quick, five minutes,”

“Thank you so much,” You smile, “really, you’re so kind,”

She waves you off, glancing around her again, “He’s in 305, the third door down on your left when I open the doors,”

“Thank you,”

She presses a button on the wall and the lock springs free, opening the heavy security door to your side. With one last smile and deeply grateful bow, you slip through the door and make it through into the hospital hallway where you are most definitely not supposed to be.

Third door on the left.

You have to be quick, not so you don’t get caught, but so you don’t chicken out. If you stand in this hallway and let yourself really think about what you’re doing, you’ll turn right around and go home. Steeling yourself, you rush forwards and find the door to 305 and with a deep breath you slip inside.

Private rooms are expensive, that thought occurs to you as you shut the door tightly behind you. That fact, plus the reality that he’s already talking about pressing his own charges, tells you Seonghwa was right, he has some kind of family money. You hope that when you turn around and actually face the room you won’t have to contend with his mother or father or god forbid some girlfriend you know nothing about. You need him to be alone.

Blissfully, the room is quiet, the only sounds are medical and simple. With your palms flat against the door you take a deep breath, and if Minseok is awake he says nothing, makes no sound, while you gather the nerve to do this.

Finally, you turn.

He is awake, studying you with a careful expression, but then your eyes flick over him. He’s more than injured, he’s completely incapacitated. You catalog it all quickly - his leg suspended in an elevating sling, ankle wrapped up tight, wrist sprained and in a brace, his face is bruised and battered and you realize in seconds that his broken jaw is wired shut. He has an oxygen cannula tucked into his bandaged nose, and you remember that his ribs are broken too.

You wonder which of your boys delivered each piece of punishment.

Your mouth feels dry, and your pulse is quickening, the sight of him so close is enough to induce panic but he can’t really do anything to you in this state so you have to just be brave. You push yourself off the wall and walk to the end of his hospital bed, “Hey,”

He gestures to his jaw and shrugs to communicate that he can’t really talk.

“I know,” You nod, “I heard.”

It’s strange to be here with him like this when last week you were working side by side. It’s bizarre to suddenly feel this bubble of uncomfortable space and distance, and to feel the fear underneath it all.

He gestures towards you with his bandaged hand and you know he’s asking why you’re here.

“I heard about the counter charges,” You came here with a purpose and you have to stick to it, “and I came here to ask you to drop them.”

He shakes his head and looks down at himself and then back up to you.

“After what you did?” Anger curls up in your belly, “I think they took it pretty easy on you.”

He huffs, a puff of air from his closed lips.

“Listen,” You try, “you and I both know what you tried to do, and whatever your excuse is, it doesn’t matter. If they hadn’t gotten you off me… I guess what I’m saying is do the right thing now. You said you were sorry, just drop these charges and we can all move on.”

His eyes harden and he shakes his head.

You thought he was apologetic after, coming to his senses and realizing in the haze of his rut he almost broke someone’s mind, but now you’re starting to think he was just pleading for his own beating to stop.

“You won’t consider it?” You ask, stomach clenching tightly.

He shakes his head again and points to his injuries. Jaw, ribs, leg.

You want to hit him yourself, so suddenly that your fingers curl tight into fists, “You tried to fucking claim me because I wouldn’t go out on a date with you, and you think you’re the victim here?”

He seems irritated by your question, and he reaches for something on the tray table to his side. He pulls up a small whiteboard and marker, clearly given to him by hospital staff to communicate, and he wipes away the words that were there to write out his message to you.

I’m the one in a hospital bed.

“You bastard,” The words just slip out, “why do you think? They put you here for a fucking reason, Minseok,”

He wipes the message away and writes something else.

Keep your alphas on a leash.

You’ve never understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ before, but now it’s meaning is crystal clear, “You should keep yourself on a leash.”

He huffs.

“Using tone to submit an omega is illegal, Minseok,” You round the corner of the bed, “the prison time for something like that is long. It’s not even just assault, I think that’s something like three or four years? But using tone… claiming against an omega’s will? That’s irreparable damage. I wonder how many charges they’d stack on top in court? Psychological trauma? Sexual assault?”

His eyes darken and he wipes the board again, his marker squeaking roughly against it as he angrily writes out the next message.

I never touched you like that.

“You would have,” You shake your head, “as soon as I was your nice obedient omega and couldn’t say no.”

He stares daggers, but says nothing.

“They might be able to prove intent,” You tell him, “throw a few more years on top for good measure. How old do you think you’ll be when they let you out? Do you think a dance studio would hire a forty year old man?”

His face pales, he looks sick suddenly.

“You’ll drop the charges,” You tell him, “and when you do, I’ll drop mine.”

His eyes widen.

“You’ll never set foot in the studio again, and you’ll go find another job somewhere else.”

His eyes skim over you, trying to gauge your honesty.

“Do you understand me?” You don’t know what’s possessing you, what’s holding you up so you can get these words out, but you’ve never felt more sure.

He says nothing.

You lean in closer, close enough that if he was uninjured he could easily have you back in control, but with his jaw wired shut and his lack of mobility, he can’t do a thing. Nerves flutter up your body as you lean in, and you’re sure he can smell Yunho and Mingi on you, but the guarantee that he can’t touch you is filling you with a sick sense of power, of sure joy.

“You tried and you failed,” You tell him, and he huffs, “and that’s on you.”

His cheek twitches and you’re sure he’d be clenching his jaw if he could do it without exceptional pain.

“You’ll do this for me, you owe me,” You hold his gaze despite the flutter of fear it brings you, “and if you don’t, I don’t care what it takes. I’ll see you in court and if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure that you never, ever get hired again. Every studio in Korea will know what you did, and every omega in Seoul will know what you really are, and if you ever get close to me again after today I’ll break your jaw myself.”

His eyes flick down.

“Do you understand me?” You repeat, enunciating clearly.

He nods once.

“Good,” You push back from him and get some distance, “get the charges against all of them dropped by tomorrow and I’ll call and withdraw mine. Don’t ever come back to the studio, if you left stuff there consider it gone.”

He holds your gaze, and then he writes out a question - How do I know you’ll keep your word?

“You don’t,” You shrug, “but I promise you I wouldn’t be here in this room with you at all if I wasn’t willing to drop them.”

He turns your words over.

“Minseok,” You sigh, “they mean more to me than watching you go to jail, please, just do the right thing.”

He wipes his hand again across the whiteboard and then he shifts, looking back up to you to nod in agreement.

“You’ll do it?”

He nods again and then picks the marker back up to write something.

“Don’t,” You stop him, “there’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Just do this and we’ll be done.”

He looks away and without meeting your eyes again, he nods.

“Don’t make me come back,” You press him, but he doesn’t respond and that will have to be enough. You’ve done what you came to do.

You’re out of his room in a flash, back through the security doors and quick past the front desk. You don’t spare a single glance at the nurse who broke the rules for you, you just need to get out of here before you let the reality of what you’ve done hit you sideways. You don’t let a single thing consume you until you’re out of the hospital and on the street again, and you sink down onto the first available bench.

Your heart is pounding, hands trembling. You need to get this under control before you go home because the last thing you want is to cause Yunho and Mingi anymore stress or heartache. You give yourself some time to come back into your body, to forget the hard set of Minseok’s eyes and the way his fingers twitched when you got too close, the way you fought the curling panic in your gut to get the words out.

When you do feel whole again, you order a taxi back. You’ve been gone a while, probably a little longer than they expected, and you hope they’re not worried.

Using Mingi’s borrowed key, you slip into the apartment and let their scents wash over you, soothing you instantly. You shut the door quietly behind you and toe off your shoes before calling out, “Is anyone home?”

You hear movement immediately, Mingi from the kitchen and Yunho from his bedroom and it fills you with warmth.

“Hey,” Mingi gets to the living room first, “how was your walk?”

“Really good,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. The walk itself was nice until you cut it short with your little errand.

“You look good,” He smiles, and Yunho appears from his side of the apartment as Mingi continues, “fresher,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “it’s a beautiful morning out,”

“Hey,” Yunho says, smiling at the sight of you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” You say, “I just wanted to clear my head a bit, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your key,”

Mingi shakes his head as you hang his keyring up by the door.

“We’ll have to get one made for you,” Yunho says, “if you want,”

You let the implication of that lie and you nod, but excitement sparks in your belly.

“Is there any coffee?” You ask, moving into the apartment and heading towards the kitchen. You need to tell them where you’ve been, but you just need a breath before you can.

“Mhm,” Mingi says, “I just made a cup,”

“Oh,” You shake your head, “I don’t want to take yours, I’ll make my own.”

“No, no,” He slides behind you and presses a kiss to your hair as he does, “take it, I’ll make another. Yunho, do you want one?”

“I’m good,” He replies, coming to stand next to you at the small kitchen island.

Mingi looks like he’s thinking about something as he finishes off your cup of coffee and throws an electric kettle back on to make another pourover, but Yunho draws your attention away.

“Jagi,” He starts, “I don’t mean to… well, can we talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” You angle towards him, his words making you a little nervous, “is everything okay?”

“Absolutely,” He assures you, brushing his hand down the length of your arm, “but Mingi and I were talking while you were gone, about how to handle everything with these charges,”

“Oh,” His timing is impeccable.

“We just want to include you,” He says, squeezing your hand, “and make sure we’re handling things the way we should, but it might be smart to try and hire a lawyer before this goes any further,”

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to say this.

“We talked to Seonghwa and he agrees,” Yunho continues, “this will be the easiest way to protect all of us,”

“Yunho,” You start, “hang on,”

“If this is upsetting we can talk about it later,” Yunho adds, “but Seonghwa has some connections through his parents, he wants to make some calls.”

Your stomach twists at the idea of Seonghwa needing to lean on a favor from his parents, and every choice you made that morning becomes perfectly validated with just that thought. You would never, ever let him do that, not after everything he’s done for you.

“It’s not upsetting,” You assure Yunho, trying to interject, “I just don’t think that will be necessary,”

“Getting a lawyer?” He clarifies.

“Yeah,” You swallow hard and glance at Mingi, “I don’t think we’ll need to.”

“I mean, having representation would be best,” Yunho says, “I know it’s stressful, but we need to be careful,”

“Right,” You sigh, needing him to give you a breath to explain, “that’s if there’s a suit,”

“Well sure, but,” Yunho starts but the penny drops for Mingi.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Mingi turns to you fully and the words die on Yunho’s lips as he plays catch up.

You stay quiet, holding his gaze, but when you let out a soft breath he sets his coffee back down.

“y/n,” Mingi says, voice serious and leaving Yunho visibly more and more confused, “tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“I took care of it,” You settle on the most neutral words you can.

“No,” He shakes his head, “you can’t just say that, you have to give us more than that.”

“I was planning on it,” You push past Yunho to approach Mingi, resting your hands on his upper arms as you get closer into his space, “I swear, you just guessed it too fast,”

“You smell like the hospital,” He explains, his nose crinkled up.

“Whoa, whoa,” Yunho finally catches up, “why were you at the hospital?”

You just have to say it, “I talked to Minseok,”

“Absolutely not,” Yunho pushes around the island and closer to you, “are you insane?”

“He’s completely incapacitated,” You tell them both, “he couldn’t have touched me even if he wanted to,”

“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” Yunho presses, his voice running high in surprise, but you can see he’s doing his best to keep level and cool.

“Look at me,” You settle him, “do I look hurt? Upset?”

“No,” He admits with a puff of dejected air.

“Am I myself?” You take both their hands in yours.

“Yes,” Mingi admits.

“Okay,” You sigh, “now stop freaking out and listen to me, because I promise you I’m perfectly fine,”

Mingi nods once, and Yunho stays silent, which is enough for you to do what you need to do.

“I went there to talk him out of the charges he’s filing,” You explain, “and I guess… I just wanted to understand what he did, so I wanted to talk to him.”

“And?” Yunho prompts.

“He’s an asshole,” You start.

“Did he touch you?” Mingi asks, his voice a little tight and thready, “Say anything to you?”

“No,” You promise, tugging him closer until his hands are properly on you, “come here,”

“You can tell us if he did,” Yunho’s fingertips stroke a gentle pattern over the back of your neck, “we’re not angry, we just want to help,”

“Speak for yourself, I still want to kill him,” Mingi says sharply.

“Hey,” Yunho nudges him, “chill,”

“Both of you relax,” You interject and they fall silent, “he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t even talk, his jaw is fully wired shut,”

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Good,”

You smile, “Honestly, he looked pretty pathetic,”

“He is pretty pathetic,” Mingi points out.

“Right,” You sigh, “well, aside from some choice words written out on a whiteboard, he didn’t have much to say or do. I explained that if he didn’t drop his charges things would be much worse for him in the long run… and he saw reason.”

“He agreed to that?” Mingi’s eyes go wide.

“Mhm,”

“Why?” Yunho’s brows draw together, “Not out of the goodness of his heart, I assume,”

“No,” You shake your head, “but when I tell you, I need you both to promise me you won’t be angry.”

“That’s unfair,” Yunho says.

“Just say it,” Mingi nods, “we won’t know until we know.”

You chew the inside of your lip as you search for the right way to say this, and you know they’ll be upset no matter what, but they deserve honesty. You nod, “I agreed to drop my charges if he drops his,”

They’re silent, deathly silent.

“y/n,” Yunho swallows tightly as he gets his voice even, “why would you do that?”

“He didn’t want to listen to me at first,” You explain, “and I thought it through on the walk. That’s the only piece of leverage we have right now,”

“But he did something wrong, he should be held accountable,” Mingi exclaims, taking a full step away from you and running a hand through his hair.

“You heard the questions the police asked me,” You interject, “how close was I to my next heat? Did I know Minseok was in pre-rut? Why did I stay in the room if he was making me uncomfortable? What was I wearing?”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Yunho insists, “he used tone, that’s fucking illegal,”

“I said he used tone,” You counter quietly, “but he’ll say he didn’t and he’ll say I got confused or misunderstood. He’ll use our relationship against you both, and my relationship with Seonghwa to paint… a very particular kind of picture about me. We all know what he did but I’m telling you, legally? We’re on the losing side,”

“But,” Mingi shakes his head, “that’s…”

“I know,” You nod, “believe me, I know.”

“You should have taken us with you,” Yunho says quietly, “we could have talked to him for you,”

You shake your head, “No,” you need them to understand, “you got to hit him… you got to do something, I didn’t get to do anything but be fucking scared,”

His expression softens, “Oh,”

“You protected me when I needed you,” You feel tears welling up now at the thought of it, “it’s my turn to protect you,”

They’re so quiet, watching you carefully.

“Nothing is taking you away from me again,” You say it, plain and clear, “nothing is taking away you or my friends, I won’t let that happen,”

Mingi’s arms fold around you fast as he tucks you into his chest and you feel Yunho step close too, laying a warm palm on your back as he leans into you both.

“Whatever you want, we’ll do it,” Mingi murmurs, “okay?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you snuggle into the warmth of him.

“And we’ll handle it together,” Yunho says, “but don’t make this decision for us, make it for you. We,” Yunho’s voice trails, but then he clears his throat and says what he wants to say anyways, “we love you. No matter what happens,”

“I know,” You sigh, snaking an arm out of Mingi’s hold to find Yunho’s hand and tuck him a little closer too, “but I’m sure,”

“I hate to state the obvious here,” Mingi pulls back from you so he can look at you both, “but if he’s not charged with anything, then he’s a free man.”

That thought does make your stomach flip, but you knew that when you walked into the hospital room, “I know,”

“It’s your choice,” Mingi reiterates, “but I still don’t know if I’m comfortable taking that kind of risk with you.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Yunho says, his hands finding your shoulders as he tucks closer behind you.

The image of Minseok’s face when you asked about his dance career flickers through your mind and you smile, “I think he got the picture,”

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is hesitant.

“I told him in no uncertain terms,” You can’t get the smile off your face now, “that if he came anywhere near me again I’d break his jaw myself.”

“You didn’t,” Yunho looks down to see your face.

“I did,” You nod, “and before you freak out again, please remember that I’m here and totally fine in front of you,”

Mingi gives you a truly withering look but lets you speak.

“Honestly,” You breathe, “you should have seen him, he was lying there and could barely move, and when he didn’t want to drop the charges at first, I kind of got in his face,”

Yunho’s hands tighten on your shoulders and Mingi scrubs a hand over his face, “Don’t tell me that,”

“But I did,” You press your palms flat against Mingi’s chest, “I told him that if he didn’t drop his charges he would never get rid of me, I told him I’d make his life hell, and he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t touch me,”

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes flicking up to Yunho behind you. Yunho sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against your hair and then his arms relax, wrapping around you from behind.

“I really hate this story,” Yunho says, “but I’m also really proud of you,”

“Me too,” Mingi’s hand closes over both of yours to give you a squeeze.

“I just wish you had told us,” Yunho admits.

“If I had told you I was going there you would have never let me go alone,” You point out.

“Exactly,” Yunho’s arms tighten.

You turn your head to press your lips to his arm where it wraps around your shoulder, and you nuzzle a little into his warm skin, “You know why I had to go though, right? You get it?”

He nods against your head.

Mingi smooths his hand up and down your forearm, “We do,”

“I just hate the thought of him seeing you again,” Yunho admits, lifting his head and readjusting you in his arms, “or being close to you at all,”

“I know,” You lean back into his embrace, “but this is the thing, he got to see me be fine after what he did,”

“And you got to see him,” Mingi puts two and two together with ease and nods, “and he looked pathetic?”

“More than that,” You smile, “he looked… afraid.”

“Good,” Mingi says firmly.

You remember the way he looked in that hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He shrank back when you got close, no doubt the scent of Yunho and Mingi lingering on your skin, and you smile up at them at the thought, “He was terrified my alphas were with me,”

Yunho’s lips quirk and he leans around you to meet your eyes, “He wasn’t afraid of us, sweetheart, he was afraid of you.”

“No,” You laugh that off, but they don’t join in and Mingi makes a funny expression at your words.

Yunho slides away, shoulder to shoulder with Mingi now as he looks down at you, “Yes, y/n,” he shakes his head, “he was vulnerable and alone and stuck in a hospital bed, and you’re…”

“A powerful fucking omega,” Mingi supplies.

Yunho nods, “And he knows that you could ruin the rest of his life.”

You don’t know what to say.

“y/n,” Mingi sighs, tugging you in until your bodies are close together, “if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll lose my mind,”

You move to lift your head and push back, to keep trying to get him to understand why this was so important for you to do alone and why you made the choices you made, but he stops you short.

“But,” He adds, kissing the top of your head, “it was also very brave, and I love you for it.”

“Yeah?” You nudge him.

“Yeah,” He admits.

“I do wish I could have seen it,” Yunho grins, “that asshole scared of you,”

Mingi’s hands slide to your hips, tightening their grip and he swallows hard, “Our fierce little omega,”

A ripple of something needy and unexpected passes through your belly, “Is that what I am?”

Yunho steps closer, finding a home for his hands on your body too, “You called us your alphas,” he says softly, “isn’t that what we are?”

Mingi’s thumbs brush a warm steady pattern into your hips and you feel yourself melting into their hands, “Yes,”

“That makes you our omega, sweetheart,” Yunho eyes flick from yours to your lips.

The way they say omega to you doesn’t sound cold. It doesn’t sound cruel or commanding, no undertone of ownership despite the content of their words. When they say it all you hear is love.

“Say that again,” You murmur softly.

Mingi smiles, lifting his eyes to watch you.

Yunho dips closer, his lips dangerously close, “Our omega?”

You nod a little, heat flushing your cheeks.

“Our omega,” He repeats, pressing his lips to yours. He waits to make sure you want it, he waits to feel you twist in their arms and reach up for him, and then he lets his body follow his thoughts, lips opening and his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Mingi’s hand shifts, spreading wide over your lower belly, his fingertips at the waistband of your pants. You’re not ready for that, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you twitched in his hands when he first adjusted his grip, but either way he makes no move to take anything further. Neither of them do. Despite Yunho’s lips on yours, and the breath between you both, his hands stay put on your back and your cheek while Mingi just holds you, patient and soft at your side.

When your lips break from Yunho, settling back down your heels after pushing up on tiptoe, Mingi uses his grip on you to spin you to face him, his mouth finding yours with ease.

You hum pleasantly against his mouth, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance.

“Ours,” Mingi murmurs between kisses, and then his hands spread to your backside, maneuvering you up into his arms in one quick motion, “you’re ours,”

You wrap your legs around his middle and sink into the kiss, “I’m yours,”

“Fuck, I missed you,” He mumbles between kisses, nuzzling your cheek with his nose.

You nod against him, stealing one more kiss before you lean back, still perched comfortably with your legs around his waist. You smooth a hand over Mingi’s cheek and then reach for your other lover to bring him close, drawing him in by the hand until he’s nestled against both of your sides. Yunho’s hand reaches around to cup under your thigh and you settle your own hand on the back of Yunho’s neck, fingers stroking the shaggy bottom of his dark hair.

“This is nice,” Mingi smiles a little, eyes flicking between you and Yunho.

Yunho nods, his free hand settling on Mingi’s back.

“I can’t believe I convinced myself that we weren’t scent sympathetic,” You sigh a small, unfunny laugh, “this just feels so right,”

“Knowing it and knowing it are two different things,” Mingi says, emphasizing the word.

“I guess so,”

“And it’s not like all scent matches work out,” Yunho adds, “we still have to work at it,”

You nod, relaxing into their hold, “I want that,”

“We do too,” Mingi squeezes your thigh a little with his wide hand.

It’s funny how different it all feels now than months ago during your first panicked heat here, how settled you are with everything. You glance between them and ask the obvious, “When we go back to work, what are we this time?”

“Pack,” Mingi says easily and your head snaps to his, eyebrows high.

“Mingi,” You blink at him, surprised at his easy reference to such a permanent state of being. Scent matches and compatibility is one thing, but pack is something so much more. All of it flickers in your mind - claims, bonds, tying you together permanently.

“Someday,” Yunho interjects smoothly, giving you a soft, reassuring kiss to the head, “far in the future, if you’ll have us.”

“Someday,” The word slips out of you like an agreement, and despite all the fears shared with Wooyoung earlier, you do want them like that. You want to someday be able to give each other that.

“Then we’re pack,” Mingi lights up at your words, “officially, unofficially, I don’t care. You’re with us, we’re with you.”

Your body fills with warmth, but you can feel your heart rate picking up.

Yunho smiles, “What did they used to call that back in the day?”

“Courting,” You fill in the blank for him, and the word feels strangely old fashioned considering the fact that you’ve already spent a heat with them. When packs were more common, groups of alphas would court compatible omegas until it was sure they were a good match in more ways than just scent. The implication then was something more akin to a modern engagement and you can’t believe after everything you’ve been through with these two men, this is the conversation you’re having suddenly so casually in their kitchen.

“Well,” Yunho laughs, “we don’t have to call it that,”

“We’re,” You trail off, trying to find the words, “dating?”

“Partners?” Yunho offers a slightly less casual word.

“Together,” Mingi cuts in, “that’s what we are. We’re your alphas, we belong to you, and you,” he draws you closer in his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, “are our omega.”

“And at work?” You trail off.

“We’ll be ourselves,” Yunho suggests, “people probably already know after last week anyways,”

Mingi nods, dipping forward and pressing a kiss to your lips, “No more pretending we don’t mean something to each other,”

“No more pretending,” You shift in his arms, wrapping your arms properly around his shoulders so that you’re hugging each other tightly.

Mingi hums appreciatively, his breath warm against your hair and then he chuckles a little as he readjusts you in his arms, “Is it too fast if I start calling you yeobo, though? I feel like it suits you,”

You pull back from the hug, “We’re not married, Mingi,” you remind him, “and I didn’t hear a proposal,”

“You want to get proposed to, baby?” He teases and you shove his chest.

“Knock it off,” Yunho smacks the back of Mingi’s head, “our relationship doesn’t have to break the sound barrier,”

“I’m kidding,” Mingi squeezes you, shifting to take a few steps and deposit you on the kitchen counter before stepping back with a quick peck on your lips.

“Hmm,” Yunho rolls his eyes and slumps back against the counter next to you, one wide hand smoothing over your thigh, “we just got you back, I’d like to avoid scaring you off,”

“I’m not scared,” You shake your head, and as you say it, you realize it’s true. Six months ago you would have balked at Mingi’s veiled promise of his intentions, you would have told them all their hormones were mixed up and confused. You would have told yourself the same. It feels strange to feel completely at peace with the idea of a real someday with them.

Yunho’s eyebrow quirks up in a question at your words and Mingi grins, a little self satisfied.

“Actually,” You exhale heavily and straighten up, “I talked to Wooyoung yesterday and he helped me figure some things out,”

“Things?” Mingi asks.

“Um,” Your pounds in your chest, “yeah,”

Yunho gives you an encouraging squeeze to keep going.

You meet his eyes and take the leap, “Can you make that call? For me to talk with someone?”

He softens and nods, “I’ll do it first thing,”

“Okay,” You say, taking another deep breath, “then there’s one more thing to tell you,”

Mingi doesn’t say anything, but he steps back closer to you, resting his hand on your opposite thigh.

“It’s my turn to ask you to be patient,” You give them both an anxious, close lipped smile.

“We’re listening,” Mingi soothes you.

“Okay,” You take both their hands in yours, “here goes. The idea of bonding with you both is kind of sending me into a tailspin right now, and I’m terrified that it’s something I’m never going to get over. Wooyoung told me to talk to someone to work through that and I want to. I thought about it all day, and the truth is that I want to be with you both for as long as you’ll have me. You feel like you’re mine, now more than ever, and I’m scared, but I’m also scared of not trying,”

“And if I can be yours like this for now,” You continue, “without bonds like you said, pack even if it’s unofficial, then maybe I can work through this and make it official someday. I’m just scared your definition of ‘far in the future’ and my definition are different though, and I,”

“Fuck bonds,” Mingi interrupts, moving to cup both your cheeks and draw your eyes to his, “that shit doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re together by choice, not by claim. If you want my bite someday, I’ll give it to you, but you won’t ever hear me ask, alright? Never.”

“Me too,” Yunho’s hand brushes down your hair, coming to rest on the back of your neck, “as far as I’m concerned it’s secondary, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d sooner leave you than push you into a bond you aren’t ready for,”

You jolt forwards, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and nearly slipping off the counter when you do, but they hold you steady as you pull them in.

“We just want you,” Mingi’s rough, low voice murmurs, “just this.”

You feel their warmth, the steady thrum of each of their heartbeats, their scents curling around you like a safe, easy memory. The words find themselves right on the tip of your tongue again, only this time, this time they come.

“I love you,” You take in a sharp, emotional breath as you get yourself together, overwhelmed by their words, “I love you both so much,”

Yunho dips back to find your mouth, locking his lips on yours and sighing a breath of true relief against your mouth, “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Mingi redirects your gaze with his fingers on your jaw the moment Yunho starts to lean back and he kisses you hard, leaving you gripping his shirt for balance, “I love you,”

“God,” You smile, every part of your body alight with joy, “I think we might be crazy, but I don’t care,”

“Good,” Yunho glances between you both, “because I think I’m having a crazy idea,”

“What idea?”

“Move in,” He blurts out, and he can’t stop smiling, “fuck giving you a key, fuck calling you our girlfriend. Move in properly, be ours. If we’re together, let’s be together, we’ve lost enough time,”

“Who’s moving fast now?” Mingi says, but he’s smiling too.

Everything in your body feels right, feels safe. You’ve been calling this home for days, and you’ve been calling them yours in your head for so much longer.

You’re nodding before your mouth can catch up with your brain, “Okay, okay, yes, let’s do it,”

Yunho pulls you up into his arms and holds you close, peppering kisses across your temple, “We’ll figure everything else out later, but at least we’ll be together,”

“Thank God,” You melt into his embrace, meeting Mingi’s eyes over Yunho’s shoulder, “because I really didn’t want to leave,”

“No leaving this time,” Mingi smiles softly as Yunho nods his head against yours.

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, agreeing with his words.

“We’ll get everything from your place as soon as we can, make it official,” Mingi adds.

You nod, and then a thought occurs to you, “Is there even enough room for me here?”

Yunho unwraps himself from around you and nods, “We’ll need a bigger bed,”

“For a start,” Mingi nods, “and you need a nest,”

“Yeah?” Your very own nest, a real one.

“Oh, babe,” Mingi finds your hand, tugging you in, “you’re about to get fucking spoiled, anything you want, we’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to, I just want to be here,” You tell them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho says, “we’ve waited for you for so long,”

“Too long,” Mingi wraps his arms around you both, “way too long,”

It doesn’t matter anymore what pushed you into their arms, what kind of day you’ve had, everything you’ve had to get through. Not a thing in the world matters but this choice, the safe home of their arms, three of you against the world like it was always meant to be.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #mingi fic #mingi ff #yungi fic #yungi ff #yungi series

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kosmicdream · 7 months ago

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Hello. After drawing webcomics for 10 years and making about 10,000 pages of comics, here are some things i have learned/observed in that experience..

1) making comics does not get easier.. Not really

Making comics is a tedious and slow process and with so many different facets of the experience to learn - you’ll never run out of stuff to learn or weaknesses to work on. I’m not saying this to discourage but to just give the frank reality that it really takes a lifetime to understand. Be patient with yourself and try to set healthy expectations.

2) Read your own comics after making them.

I don’t know if this is as important to other people as it is to me, but I do think that sometimes its easy to not re-read your own work and just go from your own memory of it, or maybe you’re tired of looking at it because of all the flaws. I don’t personally get sucked into the “rewrite/remake” cycle that I know is common with comics, as I sort of just accept things as they are, but re-reading my work does help me see where I have come from and where I need to go to next. I personally don’t like to lose sight of that, and I think re-reading helps ground me in the planning process of my work and gives me a better perspective on all aspects.

3) A lot of comic advice should be taken with a grain of salt, because its the person talking to themselves. (including this)

I see a lot of advice that never would have worked for me, or just simply wasn’t something I was ever going to follow. “Dont start with your big epic long stories”! Is a common one. I don’t think that’s bad advice exactly, but how many young artists are going to listen, especially if they’ve never told a story in the first place? Yes, the advice to start small and build yourself up with experience sounds great, I’m sure people do it, but if you’re an artist you’re probably not gonna be that responsible. And for me, when i tried to do this with eggshells, my house burnt down and i kinda gave up comics for a while because i lost a lot of work.

Writing short stories is still something I struggle with, its just not easy for me. I have gotten better at it but i don’t think that makes me less of a comic artist because I haven’t gotten good at that particular format, or that I jump around on my projects. Is it more impressive to have more completed work under your belt, sure. But I also think that.. Idk.. what is the advice actually saying, because with that one it sort of feels (often times) as a warning that you’re setting yourself up for failure/embarrassment by attempting a comic like that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but comics are gonna be embarrassing no matter what you do and there’s no guarantee you’ll be more successful/not experience failure by avoiding your passions. Something to think about anyway.

4) Don’t draw every leaf. Unless you really want to.

I’m the kind of comic artist that kind of doesn’t care about the art as much as the whole package of the comic. When i see a very impressively drawn panel/page, with laborious detail that is well drawn and maybe even colored ect.. That usually is kind of, I guess, a turn off for me as part of the reading experience. The thing is, when i encounter that, it usually signals to me that someone has poor planning skills for comics. It says to me that comic is probably not going to see its end or that artist is overworking themselves in an unnecessary way, that ends up concerning me about how they’re doing. Because i know how hard it is to draw comics. When an artist phones things in a bit, or has a limit on how much they work on a page, its a relief for me to see! because I understand they have healthier boundaries and expectations, and the art itself usually is less stiff too. This is all an overgeneralization, but I think with a lot of webcomic artists we are usually drawing a comic for the first time ever, so it makes sense we want to do our best and try as hard as possible - that just usually isn’t the smartest plan to put all the stock in the visual department. This also kinda frustrates me to see because most comics (professional or not) will also (generally) not reel the art in ever or make a more simple style. Generally I see it always trying to outdo itself, which leads to burn out. I personally only work about 1hr on each page i draw, that hasn’t changed in the 10 years I have been drawing comics, but i used to spend hundreds of hours drawing detailed lineart for eggshells and it didn’t even read well and i’d be disappointed with the results, feeling more lost with my goals than ever. PLEASe.. Just draw worse, its usually better looking in the end too. (because you wont have the experience to judge visual clarity until you’ve been drawing comics for a while imo..)

5) Don’t draw ahead, draw those inbetweenies.

“Inbetweenies” are the pages for the “boring” ones. They are also usually the most common KIND of page. Its the pages that are necessary, but “inbetween” the action. The impact moments in a scene, ect. You gotta draw them. They’re always gonna be there. They’re the pages where maybe, the character is walking somewhere, thinking, ect. The after impact from an action.. There’s a million examples, but hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when I say they’re both necessary pages/panels, sometimes so mundane/redundant, but also required for telling the story.. As a comic is a sequence of images. This is why, the previous advice is also important IMO- because if you really want to “draw every leaf” - maybe you should save that energy and effort for those impact moments that you want to impress the reader with.. And not for the inbetweenies, which are the foundational support, but also not the most important moments. If you conserve your energy a bit, the contrast OF that effort will also pop more. I personally find it funny when I put more effort into a page and end up tricking my readers into thinking I got better at drawing, when really i just have been able to draw better and only save it for moments like this instead of always.

Also, when I say don’t draw ahead.. I mean I draw each page at a time before going to the next one. I have no idea if this is an unusual practice or not, and I know a lot of people will draw their chapters/episodes/whatever in sections like sketch/ink/color/ect.. But I personally draw and finish page by page, unless its the thumb/sketch stage. Even then, i don’t go ahead much. I think that you can control flow/pacing better by doing chapters all at once of course, I see that as a benefit. But i also think that makes things very overwhelming and can also result in a lack of flexibility if something isn’t working. No matter HOW much planning you do- comics are always going to have an aspect of IMPROVISATION with the result you get in the end. There are way too many factors in play to be in complete control of all of them and always know the result of the reading experience. SO for me, this technique is easier and has been something that continues to get me to working effectively. Plus, rumiko takahashi said that’s what she does. And i think she has some of the best visual flow/compositions in comics. So that’s what I do.

I could write more personal advice or rules that i follow..but I think those are the ones I find are the most important to me anyway. Of course, comics are a strange medium and not everything that works for me will work for you. That’s all for now.. Bye bye…!

Oh by the way, my comics are here: feastforaking.com nastyreddogs.com https://kosmic.itch.io/ Support me on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/kosmic

#webcomics #webcomic #webcomic advice #comic #comics

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xetlynn · 1 year ago

Text

Imagines- Jasper Hale

Spoiled

Requested

I was walking in between Angela and Bella, my eyebrows furrowed as I think about my homework for Chem class that I still haven’t finished. Along with how Jessica asked to hang out later, completely forgetting that I was mid conversation with the two beside me.

“[Name], what do you think?” Angela taps my arm to which I slightly flinch at but then I look at her with a smile.

“What?” I tilt my head, confused by what she meant. I heard Bella snort a small laugh as Angela sighs, still with a smile on her face. “You weren’t paying attention again?” She questions, I glance around. My face becoming warm from the embarrassment.

“I was then I remembered I forgot to do my homework.” I sheepishly admit, holding my hands together in front of me. “It’s okay, [Name]. I was just asking what you thought about helping me take pictures for my project.” She repeats herself causing me to feel more guilty than before.

“Oh! Of course!” I nod my head, then the one minute bell goes off warning us to speed it up to our next class.

“Shoot, I passed my classroom.” I mentally curse after noticing the numbers on the doors were wrong from where I needed to be.

“I should’ve warned you.” Bella speaks up, I stop myself from continuing to walk, turning to her. “It’s okay! It’s my fault.” I grin, patting her shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go!” I laugh, hurrying down the hall, the opposite of my friends. I heard Angela chuckle as well. I get into my classroom almost a second too late but fortunately I made it in time. I sit down beside my boyfriend, Jasper, kissing him on the lips quickly catching him off guard.

“Hi, my love.” I sing, getting my books out for not just this class but my Chem class as well since I gotta finish the homework before next period.

“Hey, darlin’.” He goes to smile at me but I see his face falter a bit at the site of my books. There’s loose papers in them, making it look messy and unorganized.

“You forgot your homework again?” He calls me out, my eyes widen and I shush him.

“Maybe, but it’s because last night I had so much to do. And I also kind of I guess… in your words forgot about it.” I sadly say, opening the book up, grabbing the loose leaf paper that only had one question answered.

“You were with me, darlin’. You barely did anything.” He reminds me to which I try to cover up my smile. “Right,” I laugh, kissing his cheek.

“You’re lucky the teacher said today is a free day so let’s focus on your homework now.” He cuts off my kisses, pulling my chair closer to him while also placing the paper in the middle of us so he can look at it.

As he reads over the paper I begin to admire his features. Notice his dimple becoming more and more prominent when he moves his mouth even a little bit.

“Sweetheart, you’re not focusing on your homework.” He tells me, not even looking me in the eyes.

“Right, sorry, love.” I turn my focus back to the paper.

Jasper explains everything to me in detail, sometimes repeated since I have a hard time understanding and well focusing.

“Sorry, Jas. I think I’m really starting to get it now!” I try to have a positive attitude, writing my second to last answer down. “You’re fine, darlin’. I know you have a hard time with this.” He assures me, rubbing my back. I smile to myself but then my hand stops moving and I stare at the page again.

My eyebrows furrow at the last question. “I feel like I’ve never seen this before.” I pout, wanting to rip the stupid paper up for making me look dumb in front of my boyfriend.

“It’s in your pretty little mind, [Name]. You just have too many things to remember.” He taps my head jokingly. I give an estranged smile in response that probably makes me look constipated. “Can you explain it once more?”

And he does… three more times. His patience is thicker than most that’s for sure but I eventually got it and got an A when I turned it in. All my work didn’t even matter!

And after school, Jasper and I decided to walk to his house since it was a nicer cloudy day than usual.

“And then I turned it in… and he gave me an automatic A for just turning it in!” I exasperate loudly, explaining with my hands. “And that’s a bad thing?” He quizzes. I gasp, turning to look at him.

“Of course it is! All our hard work! For nothing!” I shake his shoulder dramatically. He smirks at me, obviously trying not to laugh.

“It’s okay, laugh at your girlfriend for caring so…” As I was walking I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and my foot went right onto a bigger rock that causing my ankle to twist.

I let out an almost inhuman sounding noise as I fell to the ground. Jasper was quick to react, I mean he’s a vampire I’m surprised he didn’t catch me before I actually hit the ground.

I hissed as I held my now painful ankle. “Are you alright?!” He asks, I shrug it off.

“It definitely hurts, but I’m okay.” I tell him, lifting myself up, being careful with my ankle but when I went to take my first step a pang shot through my leg and I leaned on my boyfriend so I wouldn’t fall.

“Definitely hurts.” I giggle to myself, silently grimacing from the pain. All of a sudden Jasper stands me up and then puts one of his arms behind my knees and then one on my mid-back.

“Jasper what- Oh!” He then picks me up. “Jasper what are you doing!” I laugh out. He’s already beginning to walk again.

“You can’t walk on it, it will get worse.” He tells me and I burst into a laughing fit.

“Love, I’m okay. It’s just a twisted ankle!” I grin at him as he continues to carry me. “You could barely stand up.” He disagrees with me.

“I just got to toughen it out, hun.” I lift my left arm that was smushed between our body’s and wrap it around his shoulders. “Not while I’m around.” He shakes his head.

“It makes me feel so spoiled.” I frown, dramatically throwing my head back.

“You are spoiled.” He mutters and I gasp. “Am not!” I slap his chest, he chuckles at my response, “are too, darlin’.” He kisses the temple of my head.

“What ever.” I roll my eyes, now just watching him as he walks us to his house.

He even got Carlisle to check on my ankle which wasn’t necessary because all it was, is a sprained ankle.

I’ve had plenty of them! But Jasper thinks I’m some fragile doll and decided to carry me the whole day or whenever he could. Even the others were telling him he was too worried about something so small. He ignored them though so it didn’t even matter.

I went to get up from the couch, it being the next day after I sprained my ankle. Not even seconds later is he trying to pick me up.

“Jasper,” I place a hand on his chest. “I have to use the bathroom.” I get up on my own.

“So?” He still picks me up and I squeal not expecting how fast he was going to do it.

“Babe!” I laugh. “I can go to the bathroom on my own!” I tell him but he insists on carrying me the whole way.

“I’ll be here for when you get out, m’lady.” He kisses my hand and I shake my head.

“I might hide in here for the rest of the night, sir.” I pull him in for a kiss before pushing him away and shutting the door.

Twilight Imagine M.L.

Master list

Requested by: @northerngalxy

#twilight #twilight x reader #alice cullen #bella swan #carlisle cullen #jacob black #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #alice cullen x reader #esme cullen #jasper hale #jasper cullen x reader #jasper cullen #jasper #twilight imagine #rosalie twilight #the twilight saga #twilight saga

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leth-writes · 6 months ago

Text

yandere Tim Drake x meta reader

This is the first part, I'll probably post a second tomorrow!

Summary: you're a meta who struggles to be seen, and Tim thinks you're the most interesting thing he's laid his eyes on for a long time.

Warnings: none, though as always my blog is 18+.

Tim was the only person to really see you. You’d been born a meta, though your powers slowly ramped up through your early childhood; unfortunately you didn’t even get a cool power. You weren’t even fully invincible, just slightly… fuzzy. It was frustrating, how no one would look you in the eye as a kid, at least until it progressed to most people not even being able to look at your face. You felt like half a person, like a silhouette without the details penciled in.

Then, as you got older, it got worse and worse. Suddenly, your own parents were forgetting you. You’d go to get dinner only to find none left, they almost gave your bed away, most of your clothes got donated… you learned quickly to keep your personal possessions close to your chest to avoid them being given out at the first chance. They could barely remember your name even when they could see you, always messing it up by a few letters. It was even worse at school. You found yourself often having your desk given away to new students, being forced to sit on the floor and try to get your work done, and your teacher always managed to misplace your homework. Eventually, the other students would attempt to walk right through you, as though you were a ghost and not a real person.

Maybe you were a ghost, maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you’d died and gone to hell after a life of sin… you couldn’t imagine God being good if they’d condemn you to this living, waking, purgatory. Eventually, you’d been completely kicked out of the house. You’d come home one day, only to find your whole family gone; they’d moved without you. The realization that you’d been erased from their eyes at the snap of a figure only left you hollow.

The hunger to be seen, to be known, left a giant gaping maw in your stomach, all teeth and gnarled, twisted flesh. It was horrid, this living, breathing, monster eating away at you until you couldn’t breathe or blink, curled up in the small, ragged blanket you’d found one day after dumpster diving. You often spent hours just laying on your side in an alley, praying to be released from your suffering, only to fail over and over again. It was horrible, but it was your life.

Everything changed when you met him. You’d been sneaking into Gotham Academy, mainly to use their bathrooms to shower and change into some spare clothes you planned to steal. You took the shortcut through the library, looking for something good to read to distract you from the gawping hunger growing steadily, trying to feed it so it wouldn’t consume you whole, when you heard the clearing of a throat. As always, you assumed it was just some rich kid with a mild case of the sniffles ditching class to read magazines in the corner.

You were wrong.

Suddenly, there was a hand on your shoulder. A hand, on your shoulder! It was the first time you’d been touched in 2 years. You whirled around and threw yourself into the chest of the boy who’d grasped your shoulder, the force of you colliding with him causing him to take a step back and readjust his weight, letting out a soft “oof!”. Tears streamed down your face, the hungry maw gnawing at you practically overtaking you.

The boy let out a gentle sigh, slowly raising the still outstretched arm to pat at your back awkwardly.

“Hey, are you… okay?” He asked, tentatively.

You realized you were still clawing at him like a wounded animal, and quickly stepped away, clearing your throat and looking down.

“Sorry, it’s just… been a while since someone hugged me, I guess I forgot what it felt like?” you said sheepishly, looking down and away.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering if you were new here? I haven’t seen you around campus before…” He started hesitantly, stepping closer. Shit, you couldn’t let him know you didn’t attend the school, or he’d call the cops on you! Who knows how long you’d be left in a quiet, dingy cell, hands cuffed together, before they remembered they’d put you there!

“Yeah, yeah, I’m new. It’s my first day and I got a bit lost… Silly me, huh?” You said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing your arm.

You looked up at him for the first time. Shit. It was Tim fucking Drake, heir to the Wayne and Drake empires, and practical king of the school. He ruled with an iron fist, blackmailing bullies and solving problems; even as an outsider, you couldn’t deny the power he held. The way he acted, you knew he was aware of his power as well. He was dressed in a rumpled uniform, something that would normally be a suspendable offence, but he managed to get away with it. He was leaning back, tie loose and shirt untucked partially, hair messy and fluffy. The sun filtered gently through the arched windows, a rare sunny day, illuminating the soft brown undertones of his hair and shining on his pale, exhausted looking face. He had deep eye bags but was otherwise unblemished, and the lightest green eyes you’d ever seen, almost sickly green.

Looking at him made you uncomfortable; it’d been years since you’d been able to talk to another person. His eyes glinted and his face slackened, looking stern and serious.

“No you’re not.” He said, voice low and threatening.

“W-Yes I am! I just don’t have my paperwork in yet!” You stuttered, backing into the bookcase and holding your hands up as if to defend against a physical blow. He sighed and shook his head, once again stepping into your personal space. “No you aren’t. I would’ve recognized you. I know everyone in this school; you don’t even have a uniform on.” He continued, glancing out the window as if uninterested.

Fuck, what should you do? You could run, but you had the feeling he’d be able to catch you… Or you could try and lie again, but he did seem pretty certain… Maybe you should just confess?

“Fine. I don’t go here. I’m just… I just need to use the bathroom, okay?” You hedged, looking away as though embarassed. It was best not to confess your status as a meta, for fear of Batman showing up to arrest you; you’d heard he had a vendetta against metas for some reason.

Tim nodded, looking satisfied. “Finally, the truth. Let’s go.” He stepped away, grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently along. You dragged your feet, sputtering, trying to stop him. “where are we going?” You asked him, incredulously. “We’re going to get you some clothes, my treat, and a shower. I can’t have you wandering around like that, you’ll never fit in. Besides, you’re the only interesting thing I’ve seen all month.”

You were so excited to finally be seen you didn’t even question why he referred to you as a thing instead of a person.

#yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere tim drake #yandere tim drake x reader #lethwrites

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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

Text

The Perfect Brat

Dom!Elle Greenaway x Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid

Summary:

Spencer acts up. You and Elle put him in his place. It’s an unconventional relationship, but it works so well.

Dom!Elle Greenaway x Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 2,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is primarily a smut fic; reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this could be read with or without considering the major canon events; dom/sub dynamics - Dom!Elle, Dom!Reader, Sub!Spencer (he is definitely more of a brat in this and I had so much fun writing it); implications of an ongoing poly relationship between the three of them; punishment and reward (Spencer is punished for being mouthy/talking back); size difference kink/reverse size kink (the reader loves how skinny and easy to toss around Spencer is); Spencer is spanked, Spencer is gagged with his own tie (the tie is also used like a leash on him); general rough play; Spencer calls the reader ‘Miss’; undertones of humiliation kink, mentions of subspace, mentions of pain kink, Spencer is called a whore, a slut a stupid brat;degradation kink (towards Spencer); mentions of paddling; mentions of jealousy; bondage - Spencer has his hands tied behind his back; Spencer wears a cockring; orgasm restriction (toward Spencer); Spencer is forced to watch while Elle fucks the reader with a strap-on (the reader is a bottom between Elle and the reader, but she still is 100% a dom in this); as mentioned - strap-on sex (Elle fucks the reader with a strap-on); crying kink (Spencer is pretty when he cries); mentions of pegging (from Elle toward Spencer); hair pulling (reader receiving); Elle is called 'Mistress’; the reader and Elle could both be considered mean in this. I hope that’s everything and I haven’t missed anything important.

A/N: the inspiration behind this is actually so funny. I was working on the second part of Lessons For A Genius and I literally thought to myself 'Spencer is too nice in this. he’s too well behaved’ - and then I started thinking about a fic where Spencer is a bratty sub and gets punished, and then in that scenario, Elle suddenly appeared in my head (I guess because Elle has such dom energy and she’s always bossing Spencer around in the show, this is just too real, they have so much chemistry) - and next thing I know I was opening another tab to write this because I couldn’t help myself. So I hope you guys enjoy it!! I would love to write more fics where Spencer is a bratty sub in the future. I just love writing sub!Spencer in general. (some people have asked me to write dom!Spencer and I am warming up to it very, very slowly.) anyway, please enjoy!

...

You were in the room for less than thirty seconds when Spencer’s pants were down.

Usually, something like this occurred out of pure lust or need. Spencer was a very needy boy. It was rare that you felt this much annoyance building up inside of you. It was rare that you tore off his clothes out of anger.

But he had mouthed off to you in front of the local cops, whining that you ‘weren’t his mother’ when you asked him how many cups of coffee he’d had that day and advised him to drink some water. It had been a sassy comeback that had several of the men in the room laughing, and at the time, Spencer had been grinning into that ill-advised seventh cup of coffee, thinking that you couldn’t see him.

It was something that got a warm rage simmering inside of you.

Generally, he had been the biggest kind of brat all day. He had been mouthing off, even going so far as to talk back to Hotch when given orders. And you weren’t taking too kindly to it.

He had to know who was in charge. He had to know that you wouldn’t stand for him being a mouthy brat.

The door to the hotel room had barely closed behind you before you had his belt undone, the heft of the leather causing the fabric of his slacks to drop to his ankles. This left him entirely exposed from the waist down, feeling a rush of vulnerability, knowing he was in trouble. His stomach clenched in anticipation. You weren’t entirely surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He had been acting out all day because he was feeling needy, apparently.

Before he could speak, only uttering out a few half hearted protests, you shoved him hard. He was so skinny, so easy to push around, it was almost laughable. You pushed him until you had him exactly where you wanted him - bent over the dresser in the middle of the room. It was a chest of drawers with an attached vanity mirror, forcing him to bend over it and brace his hands on the surface so he could look at himself in the mirror.

So he could stare himself down and face all of his beautiful shame as you tore him apart.

“Look, Miss, please-” He stuttered out.

Clearly he was still trying to come back from this, still trying to grovel, trying to apologize.

But it was too late for that. You had decided that during the car ride back.

“Shut up.” You told him gruffly.

You reached around his body to his front and grabbed his tie, slipping it slightly loose before you brought it partway up his head. He was confused by this, until you slipped the loop into his mouth, effectively gagging him. You then spun it so the length of the tie was at the back of his head. You tightened it harshly then, causing him to moan as the fabric scuffed sorely against the sides of his mouth.

But that wasn’t all.

You yanked back on the length of the tie as though it were a leash, pulling his tall body into a tense arch, forcing him to be exactly where you wanted him to be. He moaned deeply as a wave of pleasurable pain shot through his body, his back cracking slightly as you forced him into such an uncomfortable position. Your other hand was on his lower back, keeping his hips pinned against the edge of the dresser as you forced his neck back as far as it would go.

His muscles quivered and tears easily came to his eyes. His cock throbbed harshly with all of it. He always needed to be put in his place. He needed his head to be emptied as the control was taken away from him - as he was owned wholly, his body and mind no longer his own.

When you were sure that he would stay like this, the subspace setting in and making him slightly more compliant, you moved the hand on his lower back. This forced him to hold the position on his own, his legs becoming shaky - but he didn’t move to make himself more comfortable, which did cause you to grin.

Then, you hauled your hand back, delivering a harsh spank across his bare ass cheek.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You bit out harshly. “I know I did not train you to be such a fucking brat.”

You delivered another spank, his soft skin already turning red from your hits. Your palm was stinging slightly, but you didn’t care. It gave you a certain thrill, and it was worth teaching him a lesson if his ass was sore tomorrow and he remembered this. Usually not being able to sit right did help him remember to behave.

All Spencer could do was moan in response, being very effectively gagged by his own tie. His cock was angry and hard, trapped between his pelvis and the edge of the dresser as you punished him.

“You’re just a needy little whore, aren’t you?”

You barked, pulling his neck back even harder. This caused him to whine out in pain, such a beautiful sound that had you dizzy with pleasure as your ego swelled. You pulled him closer to you and placed your lips close to his ear, hissing the next words near his cheek with malice.

“What’s wrong? The needy slut doesn’t get enough attention?”

“Come on, Y/N, take it easy on him,” Elle chuckled from the corner, taking a sip of her drink.

She had ridden with Morgan, so she had made it to the room an easy five minutes before you and Reid had. And thus far, she had been heavily enjoying the show that the two of you were putting on. But she did think you were being a bit too rough considering that Reid was a bit lippy on a good day.

“Oh, I need to take it easy?” You chuckled sarcastically, looking over your shoulder at her.

You tossed your hold on the tie, letting Spencer’s body relax forward slightly while you assessed Elle. He let out a whimper of relief, but didn’t make any further noise to draw attention to himself - not wanting the two of you to gang up on him and make his punishment even worse. (The two of you were devious minds, and when you worked together, it was a beautiful kind of destruction.)

Sitting there, Elle was smug as ever, staring you and Spencer down with a clear heat in her eyes.

“Last time you paddled him, he couldn’t walk for a week.” You added on, bringing up the memory to try and prove your point.

“He was flirting with that waitress, he deserved it.” Elle said, speaking as though it was the obvious thing in the world.

Generally speaking, you weren’t even sure if Spencer knew how to flirt. You thought that for the most part he just didn’t know when other people were flirting with him and didn’t know when to deflect it to stop it from pissing you and Elle off. But you had enjoyed it too much to argue with Elle about it - his bright red ass and awkward gait for the week following that paddling had just been too good.

You used the tie-leash and a tight hold on one of his hips to spin Spencer around, tossing him onto one of the double beds in the room. He landed roughly on his stomach with a light bounce. He let out a jagged moan as his exposed cock scraped against the cheap hotel bedspread. But - true to form, trying to prove that he was a good boy, he did nothing more than lay there, staying perfectly still where you had put him.

Elle grinned at him before she looked back to you.

“So, what do you think we should do with him?” You asked, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder to flip him over onto his back, presenting him to her like a filthy prize.

Spencer whimpered quietly and blinked up at you and Elle with big, wet eyes, clearly thinking that the puppy dog look could get him some sympathy. But there was no chance of mercy. He had already made his bed, and he was going to get fucked in it.

“I have a few ideas.” Elle chuckled.

…

That was how Spencer ended up in his current position.

He was sitting in the chair that Elle had previously been sitting in, stripped completely naked. A light sheen of sweat had formed over his skin, causing his hair to stick to his forehead in that beautifully desperate way. His hands were tied behind his back with his own belt, and a cockring was secured around the base of his needy, throbbing cock.

There was no possible way for him to get relief. Even if he became so desperate as to hump the furniture, all that he would get was a fruitless, horrible dry orgasm. The cockring so tight around him definitely assured that. And with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t take it off. Especially not with the way the two of you were keeping a watchful eye on him.

You and Elle certainly weren’t going to let him get away with anything.

He certainly wasn’t going to get out of your line of sight. That was the whole point.

The bulk of his punishment was to watch.

To watch you and Elle and not be allowed to touch his needy, throbbing cock. To have a feast of sights before him, but be stuck, not allowed to cum. Not even allowed to feel the slightest bit of relief against his pathetic dick until you or Elle decided that he’d had enough.

“Please.” Spencer begged hopelessly.

His hips arched up into the air slightly, humping into nothing, fruitlessly seeking contact. His cock dribbled out precum, almost as if the pretty pink cockhead was weeping out in protest, trying to show his deep, unsatisfied need.

“Please!” He bawled. “I’ll be a good boy! I promise!”

His voice was so beautifully wrecked. It sent a wave of pleasurable tingles right through you.

“Did you hear that?” Elle chuckled behind you. “He promises.” She cooed these words mockingly.

Both of you knew that it wasn’t a promise he could keep for too long.

Elle huffed out a devilish laugh as she raked the sharpness of her nails across your back. She sounded just as amused as you were watching Spencer’s pathetic attempts to get back on both your good sides.

“I fucking doubt it.” You grunted back breathlessly.

“If he wasn’t so pathetic, I might take pity on him.” Elle said, her voice taking on that mean edge that she knew Spencer loved.

He moaned at the words, his hips flexing up once again. Unlike when he played poker, during sex, he always gave away all his cards, always showed what pleased him most and what his weakest spots were. It was one of the reasons you loved taking him apart so much. One of the reasons you loved owning him.

“If you were a ‘good boy’, you’d shut up and watch me fuck your precious Miss without complaining,” Elle said, continuing to mock him, fucking her hips harder into you to drive home her point.

She had you in the middle of the bed, perfectly on display for Spencer - on your hands and knees, completely stripped naked. The two of you were a perfect visual tease for him - with Elle in her bright red lacy bra, a commanding presence behind you with her thick seven inch strap-on buried in your wet, wanting pussy. You were absolutely enjoying yourself as she fucked in and out of you with an intense roughness.

Most of the time, the two of you teamed up as a wicked force against Spencer - and combined, you were a deadly sinful team. But when the two of you took the time to enjoy pleasuring each other, it was a rough, chaotic slice of heaven. Like lighting clashing against itself in the best way.

When you did let her fuck you, you weren’t whiny or submissive to her wills. You took it well, never begged for it. And she understood you and what you needed - the feeling of a thick cock splitting you open, that rough touch that Spencer never gave you because he was so subservient to your will. You loved the fact that she didn’t treat you like a glass doll.

“Please!” Spencer tried again, going directly against Elle’s order to sit there and shut up.

You weren’t sure if it was him playing up again or if he actually thought he could talk his way out of this somehow.

“Please, let me touch you! Let me help you cum! Let me service you, Miss! I’ll be so good!” Spencer begged, his words dissolving into sobs as the desperation heightening within him.

“What? You think you’re allowed to touch this pussy? You think you should be allowed?” Elle growled, fucking into you so hard that it caused a wet smacking to resonate through the room - something that made Spencer want you even more.

You laughed in response to Spencer’s whiny antics, and the incredible fake cock plunging into you from behind - a sound that dissolved into a loud moan when Elle reached around and rubbed your clit, clearly wanting even more from you.

Elle hammered her hips against you like she hated you, fucked into your pussy with a brutal passion. She was partially trying to show Spencer what he was missing out on, a deadly ache growing in his gut when he thought about the emptiness he felt without her perfect fake cock. Because he did spend a fair amount of time fucked out and drooling on her strap when she wanted to fuck him with it - from either end.

And she was partially trying to get you to be messier, wetter, louder, putting on more of a show for him. The more beautiful and pornographic you were, the more effective his punishment was (not that it was hard for you to become a walking sex dream, as gorgeous as you naturally were).

Elle loved to fuck you like this - she loved having your tight pussy hugging the silicone of her cock. You were a challenge. You didn’t simply beg for her cock, your body didn’t just mold and bend to her wills because she touched you with strong hands. You always fucked your hips back into her twice as hard, and you laughed and snarled back if she called you a dirty bitch.

It was part of the reason that the two of you so perfectly destroyed someone as needy and submissive as Spencer. Spencer, the type of person who got whiny and started acting up if he didn’t get enough attention from either of you in the run of a day.

“I’ll be good!” Spencer whined. “Please! Please, just touch me! I promise I won’t do it again!”

His eyes had become as wet as his cock, the tip glistening with precum as tears dripped from the corners of his eyes, his entire being reeking of desperation and uncontained lust.

“Do you even know what you did this time, you stupid brat?” Elle prodded, her voice dark and lacking any sweetness as she spat the words across the room at him.

Spencer let out a wounded sound that was barely recognizable - perhaps he was trying to compose himself to speak, perhaps he was truly clueless.

He could be so mouthy sometimes, but most of the time, he didn’t even recognize his sass as a problem.

“What makes you think you’re worthy to touch her? What makes you think that you get to touch her after being such a dumb brat all day?” Elle teased him.

She emphasized her words by yanking back on your hair, delivering a pleasurable amount of pain that made you moan out as she continued to harshly thrust her hips into your wet cunt.

“What makes you think that a brat like you gets to touch these perfect tits?” Elle mocked him, leaning over you to grope roughly at your swaying breasts. Of course, just to show him what he couldn’t have and heavily enjoying your body in the process.

You chuckled at this, enjoying the way Spencer’s features twisted up in displeasure. Clearly he was whiny, wanting so badly to touch you - but he hadn’t earned it. Not tonight.

He let out a few more tears before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled quietly. “I’m a bad boy. I’ve been bad.”

“Why?” You heaved out, breathless from Elle’s efforts. “Why are you bad?”

“Good boys don’t talk back.” Spencer finally admitted, his voice weak with defeat.

“Look, the genius finally figured it out.” Elle commented, beautiful condescension dripping through her voice.

“Good!” You huffed, fucking your hips harshly back into Elle’s cock while you locked eyes with Spencer’s wet, glassy ones. “Now keep your whiny fuckin’ mouth shut while Mistress fucks me, and maybe - fuck - and maybe I won’t keep that cockring on you all day tomorrow.”

Spencer whined harshly at this, but didn’t protest. Elle grinned, planting a kiss on the back of your neck before she dug her nails into your hips and fucked you faster.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, and there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed this, please comment about the body of work that has been written. If you want to see more Spencer fics that I have written, definitely check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or check out my other Masterlists to see if anything catches your eye.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds #elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #elle greenaway x reader spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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