#romans hands are too small
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corescorner · 4 months ago
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F2 for @punk-logan
I haven't made any personal designs for canonverse sides, so I think these are a good start, maybe I'll do full coloured portraits.
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akajustmerry · 1 year ago
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I honestly have SO MANY thoughts and feelings about romangerri as a tragic mentor/mentee relationship that I'd love to be able to ramble about for hours on end. but whenever I've tried I just get romangerri shippers in my notes and the way they talk about roman having feelings for gerri is so triggering to me because of something that happened to me in my first workplace that I just kinda have to avoid it <\3
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midnightorchids · 10 days ago
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i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤
I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃
I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.
The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.
This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.
The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.
Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.
Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.
You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.
He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.
Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.
“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.
You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.
“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.
Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.
He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.
The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.
Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.
Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”
You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.
After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.
You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.
He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.
“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.
“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.
“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”
“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.
“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.
After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.
It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.
You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.
Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.
You were definitely going to call him.
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earthtooz · 9 months ago
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cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain
my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...
he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.
you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.
aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.
you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.
a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.
during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.
ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.
your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.
the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.
"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.
"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.
"make haste, then," he urges.
during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.
despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.
(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)
he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.
but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.
it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.
ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.
perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.
and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.
he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.
when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.
you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.
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juletheghoul · 2 months ago
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a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!
This is the fic I referenced in this preview
Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader
word count: 5.1k (whoops!)
reblogs are appreciated
Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist
You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.
“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 
“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 
“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.
“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 
“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 
“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 
He nodded, leaving shortly after. 
Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 
Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 
He has advanced
He has killed the leaders of the rebellion
He is victorious, already on his way home
He has been hurt
He is dead
He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more
The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 
Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 
Your eyes would not leave his face. 
He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 
He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-
“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 
“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 
“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 
You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 
“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 
Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 
He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 
With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 
Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 
“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 
To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 
You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 
“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 
Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 
The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 
“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 
“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 
“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 
His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 
You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.
“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 
“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 
“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.
He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.
“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.
“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 
“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 
“They are worth the effort.” 
He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.
“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 
“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 
“What was it like?”
“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.
“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 
“Yes Dominus.”
“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 
“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.
“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 
“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 
“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 
“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 
“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 
-
You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 
You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 
“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”
“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 
“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 
“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.
“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.
“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance
“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.
“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.
“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 
“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 
“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 
“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 
You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.
“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 
“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 
A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 
“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 
“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 
“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 
“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 
-
Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.
You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 
Things were different. He was different. 
He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.
The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 
For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 
At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 
His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 
Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 
A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.
So many possibilities. 
When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 
“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 
“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.
“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 
“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 
You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 
“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 
“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 
“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 
He tasted like the ocean. 
“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 
“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 
“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 
“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 
“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 
“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 
“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.
It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.
His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 
You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 
He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 
“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 
“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 
“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 
He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 
Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 
Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 
You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 
“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 
“Call me Marcus.”
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authorhjk1 · 20 days ago
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Sana/Jennie museum threesome
The Roman Goddess (part III)
(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)
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"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."
Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.
You knew it was a bad idea, when you saw the invitation to this event lying on the bed in your hotel room. And her note next to it explained why she wanted you here.
"I don't think we should do this."
You take a step back, surprised by your own self control.
"Y-Your husband is right there."
You whisper and point to the next room of the museum.
"Oh, forget about him, baby. I'm just here for that dick of yours."
You watch her looking down on you, before she reaches out to cup your crotch.
You can't do anything. Nothing to resist. Venus has always been something you can't walk away from. Something that draws you in. And that purple dress she is wearing makes your head spin, everytime you look at her. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her curves tightly.
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A satisfied smile plays around Venus' lips, when she sees you glancing at her cleavage.
"You see? We're meant for each other. My body is yours. And yours is mine."
She steps closer. You close your eyes, still feeling her hand on your clothed cock. She places her tongue on your cheekbone and gives your cheek a long lick upwards, until she reaches your ear. Her purpose is clear. Destroy your silent resistance. Let yourself go. Give in.
"Your cock. It belongs in my pussy. As deep as it can go."
You flinch when Venus bites your earlobe. She is way more aggressive than she used to be. But then again, she is used to getting what she wants.
"And I'm not leaving this museum, until you tear this dress off me and fuck me like you mean it."
Your eyes shoot open when you hear high heels click on the stone floor. Someone is walking towards the two of you. Venus takes two steps back and pretends to read the information plate of the glass case on your left. You quickly hide your erection with the brochure you've held onto until now.
When the woman finally rounds the corner, you almost roll your eyes. What in the world? What the fuck is going on?
Her blue dress is barely a dress. More like a tunic. A very revealing one. You can see most of her slender legs and her tummy. The former is decorated with some body jewelry, which catches your eye. You notice you're staring, when she speaks up.
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"I didn't expect you to see here."
Venus turns around.
"Oh, hey you."
She gives the new woman a big smile, but you can tell it's not genuine. Venus hesitates for a moment, but decides to properly greet the other woman. The two of them meet in the middle of the room. You can sense the awkwardness in the air as they give each other a hug. It looks forced and delicate, almost as if both of them are afraid the other might shatter into pieces, if they squeeze too hard.
You take a deep breath, glad you aren't the center of Venus' attention at the moment. Turning around, you try to ignore the two women and regain your composure. The glass case behind you showcases a trident and a net. You read the small plate that is placed next to the case.
The Retiarius, one of the most iconic gladiators of ancient Rome, fought using a trident (tridens) and a net (rete). Unlike his heavily armored counterparts, the Retiarius relied on speed and agility.
"How is your husband doing? You always talk about how he is working all the time."
"He is doing just fine. If I remember correctly, you ended things with your boyfriend? Tell me all about that."
Equipped with minimal armor—typically a shoulder guard (galerus) for protection—he would attempt to ensnare his opponent with the net before striking with the trident. This lightweight approach contrasted sharply with the heavily armed Secutor, creating a dramatic spectacle of skill versus strength.
"You know how guys are. Lazy idiots, who only think about sex. Especially when they see a woman like me. Believe it or not, I had one of his best friends on my doorstep an hour after I ended things with him."
"I can only imagine. My husband is a loyal, loving man. He gives me the world. I hope you'll find someone like that someday as well."
The weapons displayed here are replicas of those used in the grand arenas of Capua, a renowned training center for gladiators.
You move onto the next exhibit, while you hear the two women talk in the background. It's obvious they don't like each other. They're just bragging about how everyone loves them and how beautiful they are. You do have to admit that they're both gorgeous, but their characters seem flawed, to say the least.
Now standing in front of a mosaic, you get a glimpse of what a fully filled arena must've looked like in its full glory.
This intricate mosaic from the arena in Capua illustrates the staged reenactment of the Battle of Zama, the decisive confrontation of the Second Punic War fought in 202 BCE. In this spectacle, captured Punic warriors were forced to relive their defeat, facing off against Roman-trained gladiators representing the legions of Scipio Africanus.
"By the way, I love that dress of yours. I don't think I'd dare to show off this much skin, but it really fits your style."
"Thanks. Oh, but I love yours as well. Did your husband buy it for you? His taste is really something."
The Punic fighters are depicted with their characteristic long spears (hasta), curved swords (falcata), and round shields (caetra), emulating the Carthaginian infantry. Some are shown as Numidian allies, wielding javelins (pilum) and riding light horses, mirroring the diverse forces of Hannibal’s army.
"You know, I'd love to catch up with you some more, but my husband already mentioned earlier that he would love me to accompany him to the arena. But I'm sure we will have a chance to resume this pleasant conversation."
"Of course, dear. You're a loving and loyal wife. You always put his needs over yours."
Their opponents, dressed in Roman-style armor, carry gladii (short swords) and rectangular scuta (shields), symbolizing the disciplined Roman formations that triumphed at Zama. Such events were designed not only as entertainment but as a display of Roman supremacy, reminding the spectators of Rome's victory over one of its greatest adversaries.
You let out a deep breath as you hear Venus exit the room. You already felt bad, because you slept with a married woman. And while your carnal desires have kept you under their control so far, you finally have the courage to stop. You don't want to do it here. Not with her husband in the next room. That's not just morally wrong, but also stupid and dangerous.
You decide to ignore the other woman. She's probably doing the same with you. You reach another, smaller glass case. A figure of Venus inside. You can't help but glance at your own personal Venus through the door in the other room. For a moment, your eyes are glued to her backside, which is tightly wrapped by her dress. But you quickly avert your eyes again, hoping no one caught you. You decide on studying the description of the small figure, waiting for the other woman to finally leave the room.
The goddess Venus, revered as the deity of love, beauty, and fertility, held a special connection with the gladiators of Capua. In Roman culture, Venus was also associated with victory and fortune, making her a significant figure for gladiators who sought her favor before entering the arena. It was believed that invoking Venus’ blessings could turn the tide of combat, granting strength, agility, and the favor of the audience.
"Interesting."
You mumble as you take out your pen. This could make for a great part of your book. The first one featured the Roman legions. The second one was centered around Roman naval warfare. And this third one was supposed to be more about politics, while highlighting the character of a cunning, but charming woman.
Thank to Venus, you've already made great progress. "The Roman goddess", your third book, is almost finished by now. And it seems like you just found the best way to start your fourth book. Very ambitious, since you haven't completed the third one yet. But you know that this could lead you to even more fame. And money. For a moment, you wonder if you could ever reach the same level as Venus' husband. Through writing? Not likely. But it's going well so far.
The idea alone already makes your fingers itchy. You want to go home and continue to write. And you know now, your fourth book will be about gladiators. As you take notes on the museum's brochure, you are already planning out the first ideas for a plot.
You loose yourself in your thoughts, whispering along as you keep on reading the description of the small figure.
In Capua, one of the most renowned gladiatorial training centers of the Roman world, shrines and offerings to Venus were common, especially among gladiators who wished to honor the goddess in the hope of survival and success. The connection between Freya and the gladiators-
"What the fuck happened here?"
You say out loud, starring at the small text.
"Are you okay?"
You jump. The woman who talked to Venus is standing right behind you.
"Yeah, sorry."
You turn back around.
"Is something wrong?"
"Kinda..."
You hesitate. She sounds kinda bored and you don't want to make it worse by letting your history addiction shine through. But what's the worst that can happen?
"Here."
You point at the description.
"For some reason someone switched the names of Venus and Freya."
"And who is that?"
"Well, Venus is this one."
You point at the statue and have to force yourself to not look into the next room.
"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."
"Isn't this the goddess of love or something?"
"Yes, you're correct. She's also responsible for marriage and the spring."
"You seem to know what you're talking about."
The woman next to you crosses her arms in front of her chest as she looks down at the figure of Venus.
"A little. My specialty is Roman and Greek history, but I know a thing or two about other civilizations as well."
"Are you a history teacher or something?"
"An author."
It still feels odd to say that. But you're realizing that you aren't as nervous as you should be. This woman is gorgeous, stunning. And yet, you don't really think about that and just see her as a normal person. Maybe because you spent a lot of time with Venus?
"Are you famous?"
"I wouldn't say so. Not really."
"Too bad. It would've explained why she sleeps with you."
You almost have a heart attack.
"W-What?"
You cross your fingers that she isn't talking about Venus. Not possible. You've never seen her before, so how would she have seen you? And you are sure that Venus didn't say anything either. Right?
You feel your heart beating faster, while your body seems like it's frozen. You wait for her to keep talking.
"Did you never see her taking pictures of you or something?"
You slowly shake your head.
"No... Did she?"
"There's an mobile app for women like us."
She pauses for a moment.
"Rich, famous women. Who are either married or single."
"Ah...."
"The app is used to share our sexual adventures with each other. And recommend people, based on where you are. For example, you told her that you'd be in Italy for a while. How do I know that? I checked the app. She put a picture of you in there. What you're good at, that you're fine with keeping secrets and that you're currently in Italy. And your number as well."
"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"
"Yeah."
You feel a little used. Venus seemed to value privacy so much. So why did she just violate yours?
"I also know that the two of you are playing a little game. You call her Venus. And you're Mars, right?"
You slowly nod your head. It finally dawns on you in which direction this is gonna go.
"I want in."
"What?"
"I want to take what's hers. Make Venus jealous and show her that you like my pussy more than hers."
When she says Venus' name, it almost sounds like an insult.
"Do I have a choice?"
The woman in blue shakes her head, while giving you a mocking smile.
"You don't."
You look at her, then look back towards the room Venus went to, and then look back at her.
"Okay....What do you want to do? A hotel? Or-"
"Shut it."
You're surprised by her rudeness.
"We are going somewhere where she can see us. Got it?"
"S-Sure."
"Oh and we need a name for me too. I want one just as good as hers."
You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.
"Freya?"
You see a smile playing around her lips.
"Sounds good."
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"I don't think we should be here. This isn't just against museum rules, but also inappropriate."
"Zip it. I do what I want."
You sigh as she leads you into the sunlight. It seems like someone really paid the museum a lot of money to host this event. Which makes sense, since everyone here seems to be rich. The museum staff has placed a purple sun blind over the imperial box. From here, you have great view of the whole arena.
Of course it isn't in its original state, but it looks fabulous nonetheless. Which makes sense, since it's the second largest amphitheater of the Roman Empire. In the middle, where the gladiators have fought thousands of years ago, the museum has set up tables and chairs, a large buffet and even a small dance floor.
You feel odd, overlooking this beautiful scenery. Not just because you have a gorgeous woman lean over the balustrade right in front of you, but also because it feels wrong. This was once a place of blood and death. People died down there and yet these rich people treat it as some fancy place for a party.
"There she is."
Freya nods towards Venus, who is standing near the buffet. You can spot her easily. She is the most beautiful woman down there. You can't keep your eyes off that beautiful body.
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You know her husband has to be there somewhere, but you can't tell who it is. And you're not even sure if you want to know. After all-
"What are you waiting for?"
You look over the bent over woman in front of you. Venus has so much control over you, you almost forgot about Freya. But now, you can see how beautiful she is as well. How sexy, how gorgeous. Just as much a goddess as Venus is. Same but different.
"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."
You hesitate. Venus wasn't really this commanding. But in the end, you don't care. As long as it means you are able to have sex with a woman like her.
You feel the naked stone on your knees. Reaching forward, you slowly lift up Freya's dress. Her blue underwear matches the dress. You lean in and give the back of her thighs kisses. You taste her skin, making sure you take your time as you carefully make your way upwards. When you eventually meet her clothed core, you plant a kiss on the fabric.
Freya's legs open a little wider, but you change directions. You lick and kiss her cheeks, giving them an occasional bite or two.
"That feels good..."
You continue, until you feel like she is starting to get impatient. Pulling at her panties, you watch them slowly glide down her smooth legs.
Licking your lips, you stare at her exposed pussy. It's a little darker than Venus', but not less beautiful. You lean in. One slow lick from the bottom to the top. It makes her hum in appreciation. You reach for her cheeks to pull them apart a little further. Taking in Freya's scent, you begin to feast on her pussy, while the rich people feast on the buffet in the arena.
You quickly notice that Freya isn't as wet as Venus is. It takes you a while to finally have her dripping. But for some reason, that just makes it taste even better. You lick along her folds, part them with your tongue, dive in deep. And then you retreat, circle around her outer lips, dip down to let your tongue flick against her clit. And then you start from the beginning once more.
Throughout your delicious meal, Freya has stayed mostly quiet. An appreciative moan here and there, a slight gasp, whenever you try something new. You can really see how the two women differ from each other.
As you keep going, you notice how Freya likes it when you use your hands on her ass from time to time. Pull her cheeks apart a little, slightly dig your fingers into them, squeezing them. You feel how she slowly becomes hotter, how her body's temperature starts to rise. She starts to move back a little as more pleasure rushes through her system.
Making your final move, you take her clit into your mouth. You suck on it, making her squirm for a moment. And then, a deep moan leaves her body. She shakes in front of you, your hands on her ass and hers on the balustrade keep her standing. More of her juices leave her pussy, which you taste as you dive back in during her high.
When you finally move away from her, you take a look at her now glistening folds once more. But when you're about to stand up, you feel one of her hands pushing your head back down.
"What makes you think you're done?"
You're surprised she wants more. You would've loved to feel her lips, or her pussy on your cock. But you decide to follow her lead. Maybe you'll get even more out of this.
"That's a good boy."
You hear her sigh when you place your lips on hers once more. Closing your eyes, you enjoy her taste. The moment is short lived, when you hear your phone's ringtone.
"Answer it."
Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.
You quickly realize why. She must've seen how Venus took out her phone and is now calling you.
"Hello?"
"Are you hiding from me?"
"I'm-"
You get interrupted by Freya, who pulls your face toward her core.
"I'm not."
You resume your meal, while Venus talks on the other end of the line.
"Good. I'm really horny right now. And I need you."
"I'm not sure if we should do it here. Your husband-"
"Oh, don't worry. He won't catch us, I promise."
"I don't-"
"It's gonna be quick."
Freya lets out a sigh as your tongue swipes upwards a little too high, coming dangerously close to her other hole. You bite your lip for a second, hoping Venus didn't hear that.
"I'll reward you."
Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.
"I'm going to head to your hotel room after this event. My body will be yours tonight."
You almost let out a groan into Freya's pussy.
"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"
You feel the other woman's hand on the back of your head again, urging you on to keep eating her out.
"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"
You close your eyes, trying to stay strong. At the same time, you keep you face buried between Freya's legs.
"Yes, that feels good."
Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.
"Mars, what's going on?"
You realize that she did it on purpose.
Freya now reaches for your phone.
"Keep going."
She takes and places it on her ear.
"Hello, darling?"
You don't hear what Venus is saying. You let out a sigh, but resume your work. You kinda feel like you betrayed her. But the again, you aren't in a relationship. She is even married to someone else.
"Oh, I bet he's loving dessert right now."
You hear Freya's breath hitch as you let your tongue circle around her clit once more.
"Oh damn, you really weren't lying. He is gonna make me cum again."
You double your efforts at her words. The damage is done already. Might as well finish the job.
"Don't get all possessive, honey. I'm sure he won't mind sleeping with you tonight."
"Really? And what are you gonna do about it?"
You feel how Freya is getting closer again. This bantering with Venus is probably getting her off even more.
"What makes you think you're a better fuck than me?"
"Oh, I'm so up for that. I'm gonna show you how much better I am."
You suck on Freya's clit once more. And the climax of her conversation and you work suddenly make her cum again.
"Oh, fuck!"
Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.
"That was amazing. Where we are? Just look up."
You notice how a second later the call ends. Freya turns around and gives you your phone back.
"While we wait for Venus, why don't you show me what you got there?"
She reaches for your belt and starts to undress you. When your pants and boxers fall onto the stone floor, Freya wraps her fingers around your cock.
"It's always hard to tell someone's size without properly measuring it, but I feel like Venus underestimated you."
She stands in front of you, while she begins to stroke your length. You can't help but reach out to feel more of her body. You place your hand on her naked waist.
"You like me, don't you?"
It's probably for the best, if you don't answer. So you stay silent, your eyes slowly wandering from her waist to her clothed tits. And your hands soon follow.
"You probably thought she was a goddess when you first saw her, huh? That's why you play this little game. But trust me, she is no better than I am."
Her confident smirk makes you realize that she genuinely thinks she is better than Venus. She isn't just saying that to make you choose her.
"Maybe we should start without her."
You watch how Freya's hand leaves your cock. She sticks out her tongue and licks her own palm. Then, she places her wet hand around your length again.
"Come on. Make everyone watch."
She turns around again. And like before, Freya bends over the stone balustrade.
You hold your breath for a moment. You really must be lucky if you get to have sex with her. But, if Venus is about to join the two of you, this might turn into the best day of your life.
Stepping behind her, you align yourself with her pussy. Your tip grazes her lips. When you push inside, you hear her let out a sigh.
"No wonder she doesn't want to share you."
Your hands are on her waist. You feel that waist chain between your fingers. But that's by far not the best thing you're feeling right now. Her tight cunt is nicely wrapped around your cock, keeping you inside as you attempt to back up.
When you start to properly fuck her, you already hear the sounds of someone walking behind you. It's still a little further away, but it's growing closer. You decide that this the best moment to make use of Freya's pussy as much as possible. You don't know what might happen next.
"Fuck, right there."
She moans when you fuck her harder. Soon, you place one of your hands on her clothed tits, while the other stays on her waist. You take her from behind, enjoying her body to the fullest. As every thrust leads you deeper and deeper inside, you start to forget all about the world around you. Her tight grip on your cock is all that matters right now. Your thrusts become faster. And the sound of your hips meeting her ass becomes louder.
"The two of you started without me?"
You quickly turn your head. Venus is standing behind you, a pout on her lips. Your eyes immediately roam her body. Her beauty and Freya's pussy around your cock make your head spin.
"Why don't you join me? Venus?"
Freya says her name once more with an underlying emotion. But to your surprise, Venus walks closer. She captures your lips with hers, her hands on your chest. By now, you've stopped fucking Freya. Which she doesn't seem to like. The bent over woman moves her hips and you groan into Venus' mouth.
Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.
"Make sure your cum belongs to me."
She gives you a mischievous smile, before she backs away. Just like Freya, she bends over the balustrade. The two women are barely an arm's length apart from each other. But your view has suddenly improved immensely. Your eyes are glued to Venus' ass as you start to fuck Freya once more.
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Your self control only lasts a second. You reach over to squeeze the cheek that is closest to you. Venus looks back at you, a satisfied grin on her face.
"Can't take your hands off me?"
You nod as you try to keep up the pace of your fucking. Freya has begun to moan again, this time a little louder. Her tight pussy is holding onto you as if she knew you're on the brink of jumping ship.
"Come on, Mars. It's not polite to leave a woman waiting."
You close your eyes. Count to three. When you reach three, you don't know if you should pull out or not. You count to three again. And again. And finally you feel yourself pulling out all the way. Freya's walls drag along your length and a long sigh leaves her lips.
Only now do you notice that she is breathing heavily. You decide you're kind enough to give her a break.
A moment later, you stand behind Venus. Your wet cock rests on the fabric of her dress as you squeeze her cheeks. She purrs like a cat in the sun, already getting wet by just your hands on her body.
As much as you love seeing her ass like that, you eventually realize the urge to bury yourself inside of her grows larger. You hike up her dress. No panties. If only her husband knew what a slutty wife he has. The already familiar sight of Venus' pussy doesn't give you time to hesitate. You quickly push inside. That familiar warmth closes down around your length immediately. Reaching forward, you take a hold of both of her naked shoulders. The way she is leaning over the balustrade probably enables everyone in the arena to look deep into her cleavage.
But she doesn't seem to care. Venus' moans are just as loud as Freya's as you start to fuck her as well. You can tell how much wetter she is. Her juices practically coating your cock.
"That's right. I promised you. You own my body tonight."
You groan in response. The urge to lean down and give her exposed back a bite is unusually strong. But you focus on fucking her harder. Her pussy basically asking for it. Her tight walls squeezing you, her juices making sure your thrusts are smooth.
Eventually, you make the mistake of looking to your left. Freya is still standing there, elbows on the balustrade, as she bites a nail while she watches. You can tell that she wants more. It takes you a while to muster enough self control, but then you manage to pull out of Venus. She gasps in surprise.
But before she can even turn her head, you already bury yourself inside Freya's tight and waiting cunt.
That's how you fuck them both for quite a while. You actually last way longer than you thought you would. The constant switching from one woman to the other gives you always a couple of seconds to breathe. After a while, the two of them learn how to live with it and sharing you becomes visibly easier.
You're fucking Venus right now, while Freya has moved a little closer, so you can finger her at the same time. You can't even count anymore how often you switched between them. But when you deliver one unusual deep thrust into Venus, you're suddenly very aware that you probably won't be able to switch again.
Your strength is starting to leave you as well. Freya seems to have noticed.
"You're gonna give us your cum now, right? Dump your load into our pussies, after you used them like you wanted to."
Her words don't slow your approaching orgasm down at all.
"Oh, yes. Fill me up."
Venus sighs as she feels your cock throbbing inside of her. You reach out to Freya, moving her closer. The two of them are now side by side, their asses touching. You try to count your thrusts, but it's in vein.
When you cum, you bite your lip in pleasure. Venus' pussy almost traps you inside of her as you shoot two streaks of cum inside. But after a short struggle, you finally manage to pull out. One long streak hits both their asses, before you're able to push into Freya one last time.
"Fuck, yes."
She sighs loudly as she feels your cum rush into her body.
The three of you are all out of breath and you almost collapse on top of Freya.
"You still haven't answered my question."
You look over to Venus. Her ass is covered in cum and you see how a long trail of it is already running down her right leg.
"How would you like me tonight?"
You think hard about this. You might never be able to see her again after tonight. Who knows where she is gonna be tomorrow.
"I want you to wear nothing, but two things."
She raises an eyebrow in question, a cheeky smile on her lips.
"Heels and a choker."
Freya lets out a chuckle.
Venus gets off the balustrade. You notice how her arms are a little red. She kisses you again, while you're still inside the other woman.
"I'll be there at 10."
644 notes · View notes
borathae · 24 days ago
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↳ Index [Day 18 - Male Self-Fuck]
Pairing: Good Boy!Jungkook x whipped Domme!Reader
Genre: established relationship!AU, hinted polyamory!AU, hinted Magic!AU
Kinks: there is no greater sub than Kook, holy fuck he is THE sub, he is so deep in subspace, sex in a private spa, foreplay & petting in a whirlpool, then sex in the lounge area, wet!Kook with the biggest puppy eyes, nipple play, whiney!Kook, pleading!Kook, droopy!Kook, devoted!Kook, justttt him being so subbyyy listennn, finger sucking, drool, he kisses her feet, slight thigh riding?, use of lube, male masturbation, male self fucking, male anal, anal fingering, double penetration of his hole with his own dick and her fingers, subby boy tears, praise, good boy kink, loving aftercare, Yoongi makes a non-sexual appearance
Wordcount: 4.7k
a/n: you actually wanted this to happen in the bedroom, but i saw too late that you added a location jfjadfj i hope you forgive me for changing the location, but i just needed to write something about ruining wet hot tub! kook, like, fuck, these puppy eyes ngngnng anyways i’ll be dry heaving now if you need me 🤎
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“You know what I’ve been wondering for a while?” 
“What?”
“How it would feel to fuck myself.”
You glance at the side of his face. You and Jungkook are currently relaxing in the indoor pool of the estate. Yoongi built it inspired by Roman baths. The walls and the pool are tiled with small blue tiles, broken up by intricate and colourful detailing. There are statues situated along the walls, beside the big arched windows and the arched doorway. There is even a second floor and a small tiled balcony from which one might jump into the water if one desires to do so. The ceiling is tiled as well, showcasing golden suns against blue skies. Taehyung did most of the tiling when it was built, so he and Yoongi told you. You added your own little touch as well, by filling the room with tropical plants perfect for the humid conditions. The waters are heated by magic-powered generators, carrying many healing minerals and filling the room with a comfortable steam. 
When the months get colder again, you and the others often find yourselves relaxing in the warm water. Entirely naked of course because there won’t be any other people disturbing you. 
Well, except for maybe right now. Jungkook is sitting on the underwater bench of the whirlpool section of the bathhouse. You sit in his lap, chest pressed against his’ and chin resting on his shoulder. He has one hand on your lower back and the other on your butt. You weren’t always on his lap, but decided to hide away when a cleaning staff came to wipe some of the windows down. They have left by now, but you never left Jungkook’s lap, currently lifting your head to look into his eyes. 
“What did you just say?”
“I said I’m wondering how it would feel to fuck myself.”
“Why are you thinking about that?” 
“Because first of all, you’re warm and you smell nice and you’re sitting on me. That naturally makes me horny.”
You chuckle because he is silly. 
“Second of all, I’m sitting directly over a jet and the bubbles feel nice on my hole.”
You don’t chuckle anymore because he is hot and that turns you on a little. 
“And third of all, I was forced to my luck because last night, I got a video on my timeline about a guy putting his own dick up his ass and I can’t get the image out of my head.”
“Okay first of all, what kind of timelines do you have?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that Taehyung reblogs the horniest stuff sometimes.”
“Touché”, you say and chuckle, “but still.” You pinch his nipples playfully, making him whimper and give you puppy eyes. “That’s so random to think about.”
“Why is it random? Please don’t take your hands away.”
You stop in your task of pulling your fingers away from his nipples, rolling your eyes fondly. 
“You should get your nipples checked. It’s insane how much you like getting them touched”, you tease him, rubbing and pinching his nipples playfully. 
Jungkook’s eyes just go a little droopy and submissive and so perfectly pleading. He looks so much better now with his wet hair and wet skin and wet puppy look. 
“Is not my fault that you…I…hng, ___”, he wanted to talk normally, but ends up whimpering and dropping his head against your chest, fingers squeezing your softness. 
You chuckle fondly, giving his nipples an especially good pinch. He mewls and rolls his hips up, naturally moving you on his lap this way. 
“Mhm, you’re cute”, you say and take the pleasure away. 
“Please”, Jungkook begs, looking up at you with big, round puppy eyes. 
You however, simply give him a smile and bury your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp slowly. You press yourself a little closer, allowing your breasts to rub against his nipples. They are so fucking swollen and erect. He is so delicious. 
“So I’ve been in the belief that we’re enjoying a calm, romantic spa day while in reality you’ve been thinking about sticking your own dick up your own ass the entire time?”
“Not the entire time. Just once you sat down on me and the water started going up my butt”, he is having a small lisp. He always talks like this when you have him droopy and submissive. 
You chuckle softly and trace his lips with your pointer finger. He parts them, moaning sweetly as he chases your touch. Gosh, his eyes. They’re prettiest when he uses them to look at you like the good submissive sweetheart he is. 
“You’re such a delight, Jeon Jungkook. Keep being like this and I might need to eat you whole.”
“If you do, please drag it out.”
You laugh. Jungkook mewls and falls even deeper into subspace. He takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them eagerly. His puppy eyes never break their connection with you, hazy and glassy. His mouth and tongue are warm, soft and so wet. You curse under your breath, rolling your hips back and forth on his muscular thigh.
This was once harmless teasing and flirting, but long stopped being that. You are so turned on. Everything inside you screams at you to make him your well-fucked boy. 
With your eyes drinking up the perfect view (one must know that his lips look so pouty and puffy wrapped around a bunch of fingers and that the inner corners of his brows are lifted in a needy beg), you talk to him. 
“What if you get to try?”
He mewls, eyes clouding over in confusion. 
“What if I get someone to bring us lube and you get to fuck yourself?”
He slips off your fingers, sighing out a needy, “what?”
“You heard me. I’ll call someone to get lube and then you’ll fuck yourself. Right here, in this bathhouse, in the lounge.”
In the walls, nestled between pillars and an arch, Yoongi made built-in-lounges. They are also tiled, but are covered in soft towels and pillows. Warm ceiling lights, tangling from the arches, illuminate each of the eight lounge areas. They are big enough to house two people comfortably and three if the people are not opposed to cuddling.
“And you?”
“I’ll watch and help.”
Jungkook gulps, opening his mouth afterwards. He nods his head. 
“Please”, he whimpers. 
“I can’t hear you”, you tease him, knowing that he gets crazy for it. 
“Please Mistress”, he begs louder, widening his eyes cutely. 
 “Mhm that’s better”, you praise and give his nipples a little pinch, just enough to make him moan. 
Nothing more however. Just one pinch to scramble his brain. Then you already climb off of him and get out of the water, using his shoulder to support yourself on. You even have the audacity to step over him, forcing him to be face to face with your warmed up, wet pussy. 
Jungkook sobs softly, chasing you with parted lips and glassy eyes. He tilts his head back as far as possible, snapping for you helplessly but you never allow him a taste. The only thing which hits his lips, is the water dripping off of you. He has to give up, dropping his head against the edge of the pool.
“Oh my god”, you get to listen to him mewl, smiling to yourself. This was a first to him. You can tell from how ruined he sounds. You don’t let it tempt you, walking to your towel to dry yourself off enough that you can use your phone. You text Yoongi then turn to Jungkook. 
He turned in the whirlpool, clearly kneeling on the tiled bench and gazing up at you. His hands are folded, resting against the edge. 
“What’s the matter?”
“Nobody ever did that to me.”
“Well, there is a first for everything.”
“Are you an angel? Or a demon? Were you sent to ruin me?”
You laugh, patting your chest dry, “what are you saying, silly?”
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I’m with you and I feel droopy. You, you talk to me and I get dizzy. You do stuff like this and I want to be nothing but yours. What are you?”
You close the distance and squat down. Jungkook moans, eyes glued to your pussy which you so confidently present to him. He drools just from the view of you. Honestly and literally drools. 
You take his chin between your fingers and tilts his head up, whipping the spit from his mouth. 
“I’m simply me, silly”, you coo and pull him into a kiss. 
Jungkook moans, chasing you by lifting his bum from his heels and hooking his fingers behind your neck. He wants to tongue kiss you, but you don’t let him, pulling back and leaving him craving more.
“Please”, he whispers, eyes glued to your lips. 
“Mhm”, you hum and wipe his mouth. You don’t give in. You deny him more by standing up. 
Jungkook touches your ankles, he grips them downright, looking up at you with sad puppy eyes. 
“Please.”
“Let go of me, Kook.”
“Please, one more kiss please.”
You squat down. Jungkook moans, practically crawling out of the pool to get his kiss. Like this, his butt is presented to the entire room and he has one knee already outside, digging into the floor. His hands are supporting his weight as well, muscles of his arms tensing. Look at him, like a wet little puppy begging for breath after escaping the sea. Except that the breath he craves is your kiss. He moans again when you cradle his face, eyelids lowering and head leaning into your hands. 
You would have kissed him, you really would have, if Yoongi hadn’t interrupted you by clearing his throat loudly. You turn your head away from Jungkook. The latter needs a moment longer before he manages to do the same. 
“You know what? I wanted to ask questions but I think it’s best I just give you the fucking lube and leave”, Yoongi says, showing you the bottle of lube. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, the first thing he saw when he entered the spa was Jungkook’s exposed ass. He doesn’t let it show however, looking at you nonchalantly. 
You stand up, ignoring the agonised whimper Jungkook lets out. You also ignore how he instantly hugs your legs and tries to get your attention by kissing your lower stomach over and over again. Yoongi studies him for a moment, then looks at your tits before landing on your face. He cocks his brow up. 
“What?” you challenge him. 
“Did you use magic on him?”
“No. Why?”
“Cause he is under a spell.”
“He gets like this when I’m being good to him.”
Yoongi scoffs in amusement and hands you the lube. You grin, accepting it. Jungkook mewls and tries to bury his face in your pussy. You wobble because of it, twisting his hair in warning. Yoongi merely hums and talks nonchalantly.
“Just tell me afterwards. I see you two are well occupied”, he says and steals a chaste kiss, “try not to accidentally get him pregnant or something”, he jokes, turning his back to you to leave. 
“Don’t worry, he’ll get himself pregnant. I’m just watching.”
Yoongi lingers in the doorway, looking over his shoulder in confusion. He gives up soon with a shake of his head. 
“I’ll just ask later”, he murmurs and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. 
You snicker. You knew that asking him for the favour would be the right decision. He is so funny without even trying and he didn’t ask any prying questions. It’s perfect because you really want to get back to Jungkook. 
Speaking of Jungkook, he has now resorted to kissing your feet in an attempt to warm your heart. Not that he needs to work for that. Your heart has been beating solely for him ever since he dropped his sinful confession. 
“Look up at me, sweetie”, you order him. 
Jungkook obeys. He is kneeling, folded hands on his lap and eyes so perfectly submissive. His hair and skin are still dripping water, his nipples are swollen and casting shadows, his cock is hard as well and it is wet, so wet. His groomed pubes are wet as well, glimmering in the lights because of the droplets of water reflecting the beams. 
You cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, eyes becoming droopy and happy. 
“Has anyone ever told you that your naked body is so fucking perfect?”
Jungkook moans softly, squirming needily. 
You trace his lips, his philtrum and the slope of his nose before ending your touch by outlining his perfect brows. 
“It is. Literally perfect. Just like your face”, you say softly, dragging an emotional mewl from his lips. 
He puts his hands on your calves as a silent beg for more.
“My perfect Jungkook”, you whisper, bending down to kiss his forehead. 
He whimpers shakily and as you straighten up to look at his face, you watch tears roll down his cheeks. You know that they are of happy nature, that your praise brought him into a subspace of good feelings and happiness. So you wipe them away without worry. 
“Are you happy?” 
“Yes, so happy”, he gets out, leaning into your touch.
“Stand up and get comfortable on the bed.”
Jungkook manages to obey your order after you helped him to his feet. You follow him, watching patiently as he gets comfortable. He decides to lie down on his back, propping his feet up and resting his head back into the pillows. Neither you nor he cares that he soaks the fabrics with water. You have more pressing matters to attend to. 
You climb on the lounge as well, staying on your knees and running your hands down the inside of his thighs. Jungkook sighs, parting his legs further and looking up at you as if you could claim him entirely. Such a strong, muscular man and yet right now, he looks small and weak and ready to be taken. 
You give him a smile, “you’re seriously the most perfect man, my Kookie. Are you excited?”
“Yes”, he gets out, nodding his head. 
You lean down, pressing your hips into him and touching his hair. You claim his lips in a kiss. Jungkook moans, arching his back and grasping you tightly. His legs lock around your hips, his fingers dimple your flesh from desperation. This is everything he wanted and it feels as if you just sunk yourself into him. He curls his toes the very same, tightening his walls just like he would with you inside him and feeds you a submissive whimper like he always does when you reshape him to fit you. 
He also gasps the very same when you break the kiss. You smile, stubbing his nose with your own. 
“You have to let go of me if you wanna do what you wanna do.”
“I’m sorry I…” he drops his legs, mewling softly. 
“Good boy, such a good boy”, you praise him and move back. You sit down on the edge of the lounge, eyes glued to him. 
All you have to give him is a nod of your head and Jungkook knows what to do. He picks up the lube bottle and opens it, covering his hand with a good amount. He drops it by his side and picks up his cock, rubbing the lube all over his balls and shaft. 
He instantly moans, arching his back. It feels so good and feels even better because he knows that you are watching him. 
“There we go, such a good boy”, you praise, sending his nerves into overdrive. 
You are watching him. Holy fuck. Jungkook begins to feel impatient from need. Normally he would work himself up, drag it out, go slow. But he can’t anymore. You have him enchanted and running on nothing but the desire to feel good. He begins to try, bending his cock to one side in an attempt to guide his tip to his hole. He struggles. It pinches and burns. 
“Does it hurt?” 
“A little.”
“Try to breathe, sweetie. I’m right here.”
Jungkook takes a shaky breath and tries again. It burns a little, but doesn’t hurt. He manages to bend his cock enough that he can grace his rim with it. It feels so good that he lets go in shock, closing his legs instinctively. 
Afterwards he just kind of lays there, panting and staring at the ceiling. There are lots of thoughts in his mind right now. Ecstatic thoughts as much as doubtful thoughts. He can’t decide to which he wants to listen. 
Suddenly a pair of warm, tender hands part his legs for him and his mind goes quiet. He shifts his eyes to you, whimpering your name. You speak to him like an angel, glowing just as much and smiling so beautifully. Oh, Jungkook is so safe right now. 
“Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Tell me what’s bothering you right now.” 
“It, it’s difficult to bend. It hurts in a, a weird way.”
“I see. Well if you asked me, I think your cock’s a little too hard to move how you need him to. Why don’t you tell me something boring?”
“I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Why not?” you chuckle 
“Because I’m with you”, he says and spills tears. 
“Gosh you”, you coo, wiping them away, “fine, then I’ll help you. What’s twenty times three?”
“Uh, sixty?”
“Correct. What a good boy. What’s ten time five minus eight?”
“Wait. Uhm…uh…fourty..two?”
“Correct again. Now a more difficult one. What’s sixteen times twelve?”
“Oh god, I don’t know. I can’t do maths”, he whines.
“Try. For me.”
“Uhm..uuuh, something with hundred? hundred and ninety sex? I, I meant six.”
You chuckle, “you’re adorable, but incorrect. It’s a hundred and ninety two.”
Jungkook huffs out air in frustration. 
“Good news though. Your cock is soft enough to bend it.”
Jungkook looks down with parted lips. You chuckle and kiss his knee, resting your cheek on it afterwards. You smile at him with so much love in your eyes.
“You really hate maths, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do”, he chuckles breathily, squirming. 
“You cutie”, you snicker and kiss his inner thigh. You sit back afterwards. “Go ahead then. Try for me.”
Jungkook obeys gladly. He takes his cock and twists it so his tip was facing his hole. He moans, dropping his head in the pillows. 
“That was easy. Did that feel good right now?”
“Yes, so good”, he whimpers, pushing himself farther. He connects his tip with his rim, rubbing it up and down. He arches off the lounge, letting out a desperate moan. 
“Fuck, that’s hot”, you rasp, sliding your own hand between your legs, “how does that feel for you?”
“Like, ah, like I’m, ah, I’m fucking and getting fucked at the same time, ah”, he gets out, and mewls, “I wanna stick it in, oh god.”
“Then do. I’m not stopping you.”
“___”, Jungkook moans, obeying you. He never did something like this before so it is a surprise that he manages to nail it with the first try. It is really obvious however that it is his first time once he actually managed to push himself past his tight rim and the sensations set in. 
The noise Jungkook makes is sacrilegious, the face he makes will be burned into your memories forever. The view of it is the most ruining part of all. His tight, flushed rim so snuck around his own shaft. He is both being penetrated and doing the penetration.
“Holy fuck. How does it feel?” you croak. 
Jungkook gives you a moan. No words, just sounds. He can’t talk. He couldn’t. It feels too good. His hole gets stretched and stuffed while at the same time, his cock gets squeezed by tight walls. He didn’t think that it would feel that good, but it does.
“It’s so sexy to look at. Holy fuck, Kook. Try to move it, okay?”
Jungkook obeys with a whimper, wailing up the moment he moves his cock inside him. He instantly hardens, cock bopping out on its own and flopping against his stomach. 
“No”, he sobs, “no, fuck. No please.”
“Fuck, did it feel that good?”
“Yes. Please more please.”
“Holy fuck Kook”, you growl, “go on, stuff your balls inside.”
“Oh god”, he croaks and obeys with shaking fingers. He pulls them down to his hole and applies pressure. He should struggle, it should be difficult to do, but it isn’t. His big, heavy balls slip into his hole easily. First the right then the left. His skin stretches and burns a little.
Jungkook sobs, toes curling on the towel. You curse, picking up speed between your legs. 
“That’s it, baby. How does it feel?” 
“I can’t”, he sobs, writhing helplessly. 
“Not a fan?”
“No. Fan. Feels so good. Oh god, so good.”
“Fuck Kook, you’re so fucking sexy. Holy fuck.”
Jungkook sobs because it is all that he can do and begins to move his balls inside him. He flinches with each movement, reaching up with his other hand to twist his own hair in disbelief. Because his balls are so big, his hole gets stretched so wide. In return, his balls get squeezed so hard because of how tight he still is. Jungkook is on a constant wave of warm pleasure and blissful pain. The intense stretching of his hole feels so warm, the squeeze of his balls so painful. Jungkook is in his own masochistic heaven, crying hot tears as he works himself dangerously close to an orgasm. 
“This is insane, Kook. Fucking insane”, your voice is distorted in hunger and lust, spurring him on to push himself past his own limits. “Put your cock inside too. Try it for me.”
Jungkook scrambles to fulfill your wish. The pain on his balls was enough to force his cock to soften and it is an easy task for him to bend it to its position. He doesn’t know if he can take more. His balls are so big inside his poor hole, but he has to try. For you. You told him to. Jungkook pushes himself past his own limits with little care of going slow. 
He manages to get out one sound and then his mouth falls open to let out silent screams. 
“Holy. Fuck.” judging by how ruined you sound, the view of it must be incredibly hot. “Kook. Holy fuck. Look at you taking all of yourself.” 
“___”, he sobs, eagerly working to thrust his cock and balls into his own hole. He won’t last long. It feels too good. The tears don’t stop. He can barely even breathe through his nose at this point from how snotty he is. He lulls your name again, drooling down his own cheeks because he unlearned how to swallow. 
“Holy fuck Kook, I’m going insane”, you moan, feeling dizzy. You didn’t believe him at first when he told you about a guy doing it to himself. You were so wrong. It is possible and Jungkook looks so good taking it that you might never get over this view. 
You scoot closer, touching his inner thigh with your unoccupied hand. Jungkook flinches into the touch, trying so hard to look at you through his tears. You have a crazy look on your face. It’s so hot to him that he sobs again and spills precum into his own ass. It smears all over his walls and balls, forcing electric pleasure through his veins. He is marking himself with his own spill. Jungkook hates that he can’t stop crying, but it’s the only way to handle what he is doing to himself. 
“Can I feel it? Please?” 
He doesn’t quite understand what you are insinuating but he still nods his head. You could do anything to him when he’s in such a state. He feels safe because he knows that you would never go too far. 
“Fuck. Thank you”, you croak and slip your hand between his legs. You pick up some of the lube and by the time Jungkook finally realises what you are planning to do, it is already too late. You push two of your fingers into his already stuffed hole, joining his cock and balls. The stretch burns and forces his body to convulse. But what truly ruins him is how you wiggle your fingers inside him to get a good feel. 
“Kook, you-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence before he silences you with his orgasm. It started with his eyes rolling back to the point you fear for them to get stuck, then continued with his body tensing up and his legs closing around your body accidentally. Then it hits him. Deep and punishing it shakes him. His cock is instantly hard, bopping out of his own ass to spill the rest of his cum all over your hand and himself. He spilled enough inside him however that it sticks to your fingers and his walls as well, forcing his throbbing balls to rub all over his prostate. You help with that as well. pressing them against the sensitive spot so he can cum with every single spot of his body. 
“Mistress!!” he screams, making noises of utter bodily ruin afterwards. 
“Good boy, oh god Kook”, you moan, orgasming from the sight of him. It feels so good to share this state with him. “Cum for me. Good boy, such a good boy.”
You might fear for his tear ducts from how much he cries and sobs and wails. And he takes it so well. So fucking well that it is difficult not to continue ruining him after his high dies down. 
“Please no more please”, he begs you, gripping your wrist desperately. You know that he had enough. 
“Fuck, you good boy”, you praise, pulling out groggily. 
“Oh god, oh god”, Jungkook chants between his ragged breaths, trying with shaking fingers to pull his balls out. His hole is so tight from his orgasm that he struggles at first. 
So you help him, rubbing his rim gently and kissing his knee, “good boy, relax. You’re almost there.”
Jungkook shudders. The struggle looks painful.
“Try to squeeze them out, baby. Like you would when you’re douching. Squeeze and pull, baby.” 
He tries again. You watch in delight how his tight rim begins bulging as it loses its battle against his balls. 
“There we go. I can see them, baby. Just keep breathing and squeezing.”
First the left then the right. He flinches and mewls with each one, dropping his legs open once it is finally done. His balls, stretched and squeezed to their limits, hang between his legs ruined. His hole is so gaped, spilling his own cum. 
You instantly claim the emptiness between his legs, kissing a hungry path up his body. He tastes sweaty and feels hot. You purr and moan as you enjoy his body post orgasm, nibbling on his neck especially hungrily. 
Jungkook soaks up your affection with a dizzy head and little whimpers each time he breathes out. 
“What a good boy, holy fuck”, you rasp, kissing his ear. 
Jungkook reaches up to hold your wrists. You instantly take his hands to pin them above his head, lowering yourself to your elbows. Like this, your breasts melt with his chest and he gets to feel your middle against his sensitive middle. 
“How are you feeling? How was it?”
“A lot”, he gets out, voice still frail from the intense pleasure he was on. 
“Yes? You looked and sounded like it was. Fuck, I can’t believe you actually did that. You’re such a good boy.”
“Oh god”, Jungkook croaks and sobs softly, rolling his head to the side. 
“Hey sweetie”, you gasp, cupping his cheek to make him look at you. You wipe his tears. “What’s wrong? Are you sub dropping?”
He shakes his head, “just can’t stop crying. It felt so good.”
“Yes?”
He nods his head and forces a smile to his lips. They are shaking, but his smile is honest. You retort it, soothing him by caressing his cheekbone.
“Well, that’s good to hear then”, you whisper, “my good boy. Now we can officially say that I’ve got you pregnant with your own children.”
“Don’t say that, oh my god”, he whines and giggles.
You chuckle, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He chases the affection, still giggling.
“You’re adorable. Gosh Kookie, my sweetie you.”
“___”, he gets out and hugs you, giggling into your chest and kicking his feet. There is nothing better than riding on warm, happy afterglow with you.
502 notes · View notes
grillthegridmydear · 2 months ago
Text
✧・゚: ✧・゚:  The Good Witch :・゚✧:・゚✧
pairing. F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Ollie Bearman x Leclerc!reader
summary ~ The baby of the Leclerc family experiences the worst heartbreak of her life while living in London, so she writes an album.
faceclaim ~ Maisie Peters
notes ~ This album has been my roman empire since it dropped and I am making it everyone else's problem now. My school level french is no use to me here so please pardon any terrible translations.
yourusername
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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 12 621 others.
yourusername London I love you, you'd have to drag me away kicking and screaming <3
view all comments!
arthur_leclerc still cant believe you moved out before I did
yourusername cry about it I guess
user1 begging for the next ep drop on my hands and knees
charles_leclerc would it kill you to come home every once and a while?
yourusername voir maman ou Lorenzo? non. Pour te voir TOI ? oui, oui, ce serait le cas. (to see mom or Lorenzo, no. To see YOU? yes, yes it would) liked by lorenzotl
alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous as usual ❤️
yourusername Je t'aime belle fille ❤️❤️❤️ (love you beautiful girl)
yourusername Let me know when you finally get rid of my idiot brother, I wanna get a custom cake
charles_leclerc QU'EST-CE QUE J'AI FAIT ??? (WHAT DID I DO?)
yourbfusername my london girl ❤️
loved by yourusername
yourbff girl you're never allowed to leave you have witnessed too much that involves tequila
yourusername blackmail for life
user4 baby leclerc literally eating up the streets
user5 i need to see her in paddock again soon ITS BEEN TOO LONG
302studio
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gridgossip
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gridgossip singer-songwriter y/n leclerc has blacked out all her social media pages and made them private, this comes following the abrupt news that the ferrari drivers sister cancelled the rest of her european tour dates. sources say that she has blocked her long time boyfriend yourbfusername. could the couple's split be the reason for the radio silence?
liked by user11 and 320 612 others.
✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧
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f1gossip
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f1gossip Heartbreak for baby Leclerc as photos of her long time boyfriend yourbfusername were released earlier this week outside of a popular london nightclub kissing another girl. y/n was spotted leaving Nice Côte d'Azur Airport with her brother Charles Leclerc late last night. The 21 year old pop star seemingly escaping her ex boyfriend and guitarist to return to Monaco.
view all comments!
user10 ok this is why we dont give men rights cause WTF
user11 poor y/n, i cant believe it
user12 not what i was expecting
user13 THIS MANS DAYS ARE NUMBERD
loved by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 864 others.
✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧
It took 3 days to finally pull myself out of the pit of my childhood room. The sun bleeding through the crevices of the blinds screaming to be opened for some fresh air. coming back to Monaco felt like defeat but I knew that staying in London would kill me, plus the hushed whispers coming from downstairs reminded me that this was the best thing I could do, my brothers were dramatic enough without deciding to go on strike from racing until I finally agreed to come back.
Small snuffles under the door broke the serene atmosphere in the air, followed by tiny nails scratching to get in. finally pulling myself out from under the covers I cracked open my door enough to let a tiny four legged blonde into my cave, Leo weaved his way between my legs, herding me closer to the door. his persistence finally made me scoop him into my arms and make my way downstairs.
The already whispered conversation died as I took the last few steps into the living room. Four heads turned on a swivel to see me enter the living room. Maman sitting on the sofa with Arthur and Alex, Charles sitting at the piano in the corner of the room. "Bébé ? tu veux manger quelque chose ? nous étions sur le point de préparer le déjeuner." (baby? do you want to eat something? we were about to make some lunch.)
the idea of food made my stomach lurch, I skipped dinner last night in favour of crying into my sheets. Heartbreak had always seemed so stupid when I was young. How could girls spend all their energy loving someone who hurt them? I owe all those girls an apology. I could only nod as I set Leo down on the floor, he trotted over to Alex and with my arms free from the wriggling pup I sat down on the piano stool next to my brother. the guilt over cancelling my tour had been eating my alive for the last week, so many people would be so disappointed. I hadn't even entertained the idea of opening my phone since I landed, but Arthur had reassured me through the door that people were just worried about me, whether I was ok?
I had no idea if I was.
✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧
yourusername
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liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 101 892 others.
yourusername drastic healing measures activated. thank you all for being so patient with me, here's a little treat. Blonde is streaming now!
view all comments!
maxverstappen1 funeral anthem
yourusername nurse! he's out again!!
user16 no cause max is so real for this, this man has a bounty on his head
alex_albon lily hasnt stopped playing it since it dropped. neither has logan.
yourusername i knew you were my number one fan logansargeant
logansargeant its going platinum in my house
user15 AHHHH THE GRID IN THE COMMENTS!
user16 i love their friendships so much
lilymhe WHAT A GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL
yourusername wifey 💍💍💍
alex_albon today is not the day and i am not the one 🤺🤺🤺
alexandrasaintmleux face card is never denied!
loved by yourusername
user27 oscar in the likes 👀👀👀
user21 girl EVERYONE is in the likes
oscarpiastri where was this energy for cates brother?
yourusername tbf Hattie ATE in her cover so its not my song anymore
arthur_leclerc i think maman is still weeping that you went that light with the bleach
charles_leclerc
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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 13 253 others.
charles_leclerc I remember the day you were born and you cried so much we couldn't hear ourselves think. you demanded to be heard and since that day you have had music in your soul. it has been an honour and a privilege to watch you grow into the woman you are today. happy birthday ange, thanks for letting your big brother watch you make an album.
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user21 ALBUM!?! SAY SIKE RN
user22 part time driver, full time stan
user23 can we blame him though?
user24 happy birthday!!! now back to the ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT!!
user25 EVERYBODY STAY CALM
user26 not charles leaking the album announcement 😂😂
yourusername thanks cha! DID YOU JUST LEAK MY ALBUM!
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liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 468 648 others.
yourusername ok since SOMEBODY couldn't keep a secret for 3 seconds 😠 my father always taught me that boys weren't worth the energy and to hit them back twice as hard. so here I am papa, making you proud.
The Good Witch is now streaming on all platforms!
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carlossainz55 spoken like royalty princesa, congratulations!
yourusername gracias chilli !
charles_leclerc je t’aime ange, sorry again.
yourusername i might forgive you
landonorris album of the year i'm afraid
yourusername how tragic 😱
oscarpiastri y/n please Hattie wont stop playing it, im begging you take the album back
yourusername you are the worst piastri
user 15 eating this up
user36 GIRL THIS WAS AN ATTACK! WENDY!!! NO BODY TALK TO ME!
user39 this may go down in history as the cuntiest slay of all time
user40 OH SHIT, HE LOST THE BREAKUP
loved by olliebearman
user40 ARIANNA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??
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liked by landonorris, olliebearman and 792 721 others.
yourusername are you gonna feel the way I feel? are you for real?
comments are limited on this post
olliebearman
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liked by georgerussell63, arthur_leclerc and 87 621 others.
olliebearman this is in fact a john hughes movie and the girl does in fact get the guy ❤❤
tagged yourusername
✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧✧・゚: ✧・゚: :・゚✧:・゚✧
Hey yall! just something a little short and sweet to get back into the swing of things.
i do want to eventually do a series based on this album for the grid cause i am obsessed.
let me know what you think
-A
468 notes · View notes
spencahreadreid · 3 days ago
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Anyone else but you
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fluffy, night in with spencer, he's absolutely SMITTEN with you. no y/n, no gender specifics! (i imagine spencer in the gif attached but any is fine)
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Face to face in bed, his hand on your cheek, caressing the smooth skin, eyes wandering over your face as if you were a piece of Roman art. The short glances, smiles, were nothing compared to the way his clear admiration in this form made you feel.
Spencer could feel the warmth of your cheek in his hand, a pink blush covering both of them when his thumb brushes just below your bottom lip. Stifling a laugh, he takes his hand away, slotting it under his own head, between him and the pillow.
"You look beautiful tonight, sweetie.." the tone is doting and warm, as always. He couldn't take his brown doe eyes away from you. From any of you.
If his eyes left your face they would slowly trace down your exposed neck, collarbone, the shirt you wore for bed. Or they would travel up, your messy hair, the way it splayed out against the pillow so elegantly, as if you were painted by Da Vinci. Maybe they'd go both ways, up and then down.
You were silent, but the smile that mirrored his, suddenly plastered on your face after his small but meaningful compliment showed him your appreciation enough. Sometimes you two wouldn't talk, instead, bodies tangled, taking each other in.
Comforted by the sheets, covering both of you, the small gap between you making it dip. Spencer had chosen them when you first moved in together, he knew you loved the stars, and how much you hated white sheets. Stains would show too easily, of course he agreed. So black sheets, it had to be, adorned with small illustrated sparkles, stars and one image of the moon in the top right corner.
They fit you perfectly, that's what he thought at least, as if all of his thoughts were never about you. They were.
He would never admit it, but you knew, maybe you had never known love before him. Maybe you were delusional, reading into the delicate man's looks far too much, constantly reminding yourself: 'hes the profiler here, not me!'. But it was so clear, so obvious in everything he did. Anything he brought home; flowers, jewelry, clothes, usually just a small pastry from down the road.
Every. Single. Last. Gift. Every interaction, already planned out in his head, he knows what you like, what you want, what makes you happy. He feels as though he's made for it, put on this earth just to make you feel good, feel safe.
You wouldn't have it any other way, neither would Spencer. Even when he came home to music he'd never listen to if he was alone, allowing you to take 'selfies' with him although he hates modern technology.
Then of course, letting you hold his hand, even when it's safer to kiss. But you do both anyway, so why does that matter?
386 notes · View notes
smileysuh · 10 months ago
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penance
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🌙 staring. Cheol & Jeonghan & Joshua & Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”
tw/cw. unprotected sex, orgies, 3some, 4some, 6some, creampies/filling kink, cum play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fucking in weird places (a tank & church & outside & bathrooms), multiple sex scenes, choking, rough handling, manhandling, blow jobs, deep throating, oral, squirting, anal, double penetration, triple penetration, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, sir kink, powerplay, free use subthemes, getting horny during confession, sins: lust/greed, fingering, sex as punishment/penance, jealousy, dubious consent/inclusion of a new person, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, etc... I pet names: (hers) baby, beautiful princess, kitten, whore/slut, good girl, dirty girl, etc. (cheol's) sir. (gyu's) puppy. (others) etc...
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 21.2k
🍭 aus. zombie apocalypse au, poly au, military!cheol/hannie/gyu/wonwoo, priest!Joshua, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. so... uh. I watched Sweet Home season 2 and the military men had me hornier than usual.
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Prologue:
It’s been one week since you arrived at the prison compound. One week since you almost died, only to be saved by a group of four of the sexiest men you’d ever seen. They’d stormed into the grocery store you’d been cornered in, killed the three zombies who’d been attacking you, and offered you refuge at one of the few fortified locations for survivors in the area. 
You’d heard about a prison with militiamen protecting it, but you’d never thought it was real. Since the supposed ‘apocalypse,’ lies have become much too common, and part of you had always been scared to hope for something like normalcy ever again. 
Sure, the prison isn’t exactly normal. Sleeping in a cell and carrying out daily tasks like tending to the garden outside or helping with food ration prep isn’t how you’d pictured your life turning out, but to be fair, when zombies began terrorizing the globe, you hadn’t envisioned much of a future for yourself.
Every day you spend surviving is a day past your expiration date, so you take it as it comes. 
To top it all off, the hierarchy of this new place is something you’re getting used to. 
The militiamen generally keep to themselves in the barracks section, but you catch glimpses of them heading out every few days in their trucks while you do menial tasks around the prison yard. 
For the most part, the surviving citizens have formed a mock democracy, a counsel that determines tasks and deals with small-time disputes between survivors. Everyone is pulling their weight in one way or another, but people are kind to each other, and it’s taken some getting used to. 
Your job today involves handing out rations for dinner. The militia had found a warehouse somewhere in the vicinity with a large amount of instant ramen, so morale is quite high as you serve survivors a hot meal. 
You’re still getting the hang of faces and names, but one person stands out as he patiently waits in line. His dark outfit - complete with the white ‘Roman collar’ around his neck - distinguishes him as the priest who tends to the on-grounds chapel. You’ve heard good things about his services, about the way he uplifts spirits and keeps people’s faith, but you’ve yet to go to any of his speaking engagements. 
He’s a handsome man, and you offer him a small smile when he’s finally standing in front of you. “Hello, Father.”
“It’s Joshua,” he corrects you, with a soft grin of his own. “You must be new here.”
You tell him your name, and explain that you arrived last week. He listens with an expression filled with understanding, and you realize his easy countenance must be one of the reasons people like this priest so much. Although he’s a spiritual advisor to the democracy counsel, he doesn’t act like a few of the more entitled circle members do. 
“Thank God we were able to find you,” Joshua muses, when you reveal that you’d been near death at the time of your saving. “I’ve found that, in a situation like this, it’s always the innocent who are first to be trampled over.”
You’re not sure how spiritually innocent you are, but you understand that he might be coming from an angle of women and children being those who are pure. The ratio of male survivors to women and children is four to one in the prison, and it’s definitely been something that made you uneasy about this place when you first arrived.
“Thank God,” you repeat respectfully. 
Joshua’s smile widens for a moment, then he nods. “Please know that the church on the northeast part of the grounds is open to everyone. If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”
“Thank you, Father.” 
This time, he doesn’t correct you on his name, he simply nods, continuing down the food line. 
You’re doing your best to keep yourself in check. You’ve not been around this many handsome men since the initial outbreak, and you feel like a starving dog who’s finally seen an abundance of food. Not only is the priest hot, and the militiamen as well, but many of the survivors here are quite attractive in their own unique way.
Hansol is the quiet man who’d been assigned to show you around. He tends the garden outside with you, and you’ve come to enjoy the way the sunlight hits his striking features. 
Seokmin works in the kitchen, and you’ve spent hours organizing boxes of food with him. You enjoy the smiles he always sends your way, he makes you forget that you’re in a prison with a zombie infestation just outside the compound's high walls. 
Then there’s Soonyoung, a rambunctious survivor who is always vocalizing the needs of others at circle meetings, much to the dismay of counselman Seungkwan, who fancies himself a clear mouthpiece of the people. 
It’s the end of the dinner rush and you’re lost in thought about your new life in the prison when you notice a familiar person standing in front of you. Jeonghan had been amongst the unit that saved you, and he offers you a large grin. “Hi, new girl.”
“Hi,” you say, feeling a little stupid with yourself as the word slips out. It’s hard to focus on speaking with the beautiful man standing in front of you. He’s dressed in his camo pants and a white tanktop, dog tags dangling from his neck. 
“How are you liking this place?” Jeonghan asks. 
“I’m very happy to be here,” you respond quickly. You’re not sure you trust the prison or its inhabitants yet, but, you are grateful to have a safe place to rest at night. 
“Good, it looks like you’re settling in.” The militiaman’s eyes scan you up and down. “We haven’t had a chance to talk to you since we brought you here, the Z1 unit was wondering if you were okay.”
There are a handful of units that protect the prison. As far as you can tell, the Z in front of their unit numbers stands for Zombie, but it’s not something you’ve been able to confirm. 
“Anyways,” Jeonghan continues, “it’s the end of the rush, how about you clock out and come eat with me?”
You notice Seokmin shifting on the food line next to you, and he casts you a weary look. 
“I’m not sure I can clock out,” you admit.
“It will be fine,” Jeonghan assures you, waving his hand. “Actually, now that I think about it, I should grab food for the others too, and you can’t expect me to hold all the trays, right?” 
You look to Seokmin for guidance, and he lets out a small sigh, nodding. “You can help him bring the food to the barracks.” 
A few minutes later, you’re standing in the food line with Jeonghan.  “I didn’t realize the units eat the same stuff as the rest of us,” you muse, watching Seokmin pile a larger-than-normal ration of instant ramen onto each of Jeonghan’s four trays.
“We normally don’t,” Jeonghan admits. “The barracks have a stash of military-grade food, but Z1 has a taste for this type of shit.” 
“Lucky that you found a whole stash of it.”
“We’ve been very lucky lately,” the militiaman grins. “Found you too.”
“I wanted to thank you again-”
“There’s no need,” Jeonghan waves his hand. “Duty this, and duty that, and all that jazz.”
“Still, I appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate you helping me with the trays. There, we’re even.”
He’d been quite easygoing when he’d first rescued you- well, as easygoing as you suppose a military man could be during a zombie apocalypse, and you’re pleasantly surprised that his carefree countenance has continued.  
As you finish getting your plates full, Seokmin comes out from the line, looking at Jeonghan, then at you. “I’ll see you soon, right?”
“Don’t be so jumpy, Seokmin,” Jeonghan laughs. “She can’t bring the food all the way to the barracks and then not eat anything. I’ll make sure she’s well fed, and I’ll send her back when we’re done with her.”
There’s something slightly ominous about his choice of words, and your skin heats at the idea of eating with the entire Z1 unit. 
You? In a room with your four hot saviors? 
Your stomach twists at the mere thought.
“Are you sure I can’t help you with the trays?” Seokmin suggests, his eyes finding you.
“Nah, she’s got it,” Jeonghan brushes your friend off. “Besides, you know that Cheol likes to talk to all the new survivors that show up on base. We gotta fill out a little detail sheet and give it to the head councilman so that everyone is accounted for, or did you forget that that’s one of our duties?”
Seokmin lets out a small sigh, and with one final nod, he allows Jeonghan to lead you from the cafeteria. 
The prison is like a maze, even though you’ve seen a map, you still find yourself getting lost with some frequency. Jeonghan, in contrast, has no problems navigating the dull, dimly lit halls.
“How long have you been here?” you ask.
“Since near the start of the outbreak,” Jeonghan responds casually. “Before all the cell phone towers went down, the government started sending teams into prisons to clear them out. I guess the thought was that compounds like this one would be good bases to survive the apocalypse. Communications between us and the big bosses got cut, the group of officials that were supposed to arrive for sanctuary never did- then survivors started popping up, so now here we are.”
You stay quiet, and Jeonghan looks over at you.
“Where were you before this place?” he asks.
“Never in one place for very long,” you admit. “There was a group of survivors at a large shopping center, but it wasn’t fortified like this place. Was only there a month before things got bad.” 
Jeonghan nods sympathetically. “Well, the prison isn’t gonna be breached anytime soon. You can rest easy now.”
You continue walking, with Jeonghan asking you surface-level questions about what jobs you’re being assigned to, what friends you’ve made. It feels nice to be talking to someone casually again, and if the conversation wasn’t so based on the situation at hand, you think you might actually be able to forget about the apocalypse entirely while with Jeonghan. 
As you arrive at the barracks wing, you have to walk past a few militiamen rooms before making it to the Z1 section at the end of the hall. As you pass, holding trays of instant ramen, you notice members of Z2 watching you. 
Seokmin had explained to you a few details about Z2, more specifically its unit leader, a short but beefy man they call Woozi, who had been the head of the prison’s guard system before the outbreak. He watches you quite intensely as you walk past, but you also get looks from men you can identify as the Chinese members of the unit.
“What’s that?” the youngest Z2 man asks, stepping out of his room to look at you and Jeonghan.
“This, Chan, is instant ramen,” Jeonghan says, waving one of his trays in front of the soldier. “If you run, you might be able to get some for yourself before they close up the kitchen.”
Chan practically takes off, and a moment later, you notice the rest of Z2 standing to join as well.
“Looks like you’re not the only unit who likes ramen,” you grin.
“Everyone likes ramen,” Jeonghan insists. 
You finally make it to the Z1 section and Jeonghan kicks open the door. It’s clear that unlike the other unit rooms which consist of bunk beds, the Z1 unit has the best quarters. With a middle lounging/dining area, and four off-shooting bedrooms, this is clearly the most lavish place to be in the prison. There are weights and other workout contraptions strewn about, and more guns than you can count- 
Sitting on the couches in the middle of the common space are your three other saviors. They appear to be playing some sort of card game, and when you enter, they all look up.
Your heart beats wildly in your chest to be under the gaze of three of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. 
Seungcheol’s the first to speak, his eyes moving from you to Jeonghan. “What’s this?”
“This is dinner,” Jeonghan says simply, walking around the couch to set a tray down for Cheol before taking his own seat next to the unit leader. “And you guys all remember the girl we saved last week. I needed an extra set of hands.”
You step forward, leaning over to put down the two trays you’re holding in front of Mingyu and Wonwoo.
“Make some room for the girl, Jesus, she’s eating with us,” Jeonghan chastizes the two large men staring at you.
Mingyu and Wonwoo are quick to move over, creating a space for you in the middle of the couch. 
“Maybe I should get going,” you suggest, skin tingling at the idea of being sandwiched between Wonwoo and Mingyu. All four men are in their camo pants and tank tops, muscles all on display- 
“Don’t be crazy,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I told Seokmin I’d feed you, so we’re feeding you. These two don’t mind sharing, do you guys?”
Mingyu lifts his jaw off the floor, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “We don’t mind sharing.”
Wonwoo, in contrast, stays dead silent, his dark eyes watching you as you slowly move to sit in the middle. 
“I uh…” you clear your throat. “I wanted to thank all of you again for saving me last week.”
“Don’t,” Seungcheol says. You stare at him, and he leans forward cocking his head to the side. His next question catches you off guard, “Do you like it here?”
You swallow thickly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”
Jeonghan chuckles, and Mingyu squirms in his seat next to you. Seungcheol, to your shock, actually grins, and you’re amazed at how the smile lights up his handsome face. “No one’s called me that in a long time,” he admits. “I like the sound of it.”
“She’s quite respectful, isn’t she?” Jeonghan notes, winking at you.
“Why’d you bring her here?” Wonwoo asks, addressing the man across from him. 
You’ve kind of been wondering the same thing.
“You know why I brought her here,” Jeonghan shoots back. 
“Have you discussed it with her yet?” Seungcheol questions, his eyes still fixed on you.
Jeonghan gives his head a quick shake. “Of course not, that’s your job… sir.”
Mingyu shifts again next to you, his thigh gently bumping up against your own. You’re hyper-aware of everything taking place, and you stay still like prey caught under the piercing gaze of four predators, holding your breath while you wait for this to play out. 
“You should eat,” Seungcheol tells you, nodding to the tray on your right, which belongs to Wonwoo. “Have a bite.”
When you don’t move, Wonwoo leans forward picking up the tray and setting it in your lap. “Eat,” he echos his superior’s command.
You tentatively pick up the chopsticks, and on your left, Mingyu does the same with his food. You wait for him to shovel a large amount of noodles into his mouth before you follow suit. Across from you, Jeonghan begins eating too, and then Seungcheol picks up his tray to join. 
Wonwoo sits silently next to you, and after two bites, you shift the food toward him, offering the chopsticks. He shakes his head. “You must be hungry,” he insists. “Have some more.”
“Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?” you ask. “Jeonghan mentioned a survey to complete-”
“Let's finish eating, then we can talk,” Seungcheol states.
“I’m not really that hungry today,” you admit, not when your stomach is filled with butterflies from being so close to these men. You shift the tray toward Wonwoo again, and this time, he accepts it.
The four men eat in silence, and each passing moment feels like forever. Mingyu is done first, he’d practically inhaled his food, and he sets his tray down on the center coffee table, letting out a loud groan and leaning back against the couch. His thigh presses harder against your own, and you shift closer to Wonwoo, who blocks you in.
Both men now have their legs touching yours, and you can feel the warmth of their bodies. God, you haven’t been properly touched in months. The chaste closeness of this is driving you insane, and your heart continues to thunder heavily in your chest.
Soon, all four trays are stacked neatly on the coffee table, and Seungcheol lets out a sigh. He relaxes against the cushions, eyes on you. “Do you think you’ll stay at the prison for long?”
“Hmm?” you blink, confused by the question.
“Some people leave,” Jeonghan explains. “They think they’ll find somewhere better, for some stupid reason.”
“I uh… I think I’d like to stay here, for now at least… I’m taking each day as it comes.”
Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. It’s clear he’s trying to read you, and his silence makes you eager to hear more from him. “We have a… unconventional proposition for you,” the leader of the unit says finally.
“A proposition,” you repeat.
“And if you’re not into it, you can say no. No pressure, no questions asked,” Jeonghan quips.
“You’re allowed to say no,” Wonwoo says quietly next to you. 
“We won’t kick you out or anything,” Mingyu adds. 
“But I do ask that, no matter what your response, you keep this to yourself,” Seungcheol states. 
“Okay, sir.” You nod.
Seungcheol takes a breath. “Life is short-”
Jeonghan scoffs loudly, which earns him a harsh glare from the unit leader. “Come on, you can’t start this off by saying life is short.”
“If you think you can do better, then go for it,” Seungcheol retorts.
“Fine, I will,” Jeonghan fires back. He looks at you. “Life is short-”
“Jesus Christ,” Wonwoo cusses next to you.
“Okay, fine, I’m kidding-” Jeonghan laughs. “Look, I’ll make this simple. There aren’t many pretty girls kicking around these days, and I think it’s safe to say everyone is pent-up from killing zombies and surviving an apocalypse. We all deserve a little release.”
You blink at him, shocked at the direction this has taken.
“As a unit, we’re used to sharing everything,” Jeonghan continues. “And if you’re up for it, we’d love to share you.”
Mingyu shifts next to you. “You don’t have to decide right now-”
“Yes,” you cut him off. “Yes. Please. Uh- yes.”
“Well that was easy,” Jeonghan laughs, leaning back. 
“Sounds like she’s as pent-up as the rest of us,” Wonwoo muses next to you. His voice has lowered an octave, and the sound of him makes your pussy tingle. 
“Looks that way,” Seungcheol agrees.
“So… so how do we do this?” you ask.
“Whatever way you want. Whatever combination you want. Whenever we’re here and you want us-” Jeonghan begins to list. 
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Mingyu says, his large hand finding your thigh. 
Something inside of you snaps. You turn to the gorgeous man next to you and simply grab his face, smashing your lips to his. Mingyu is surprised for a moment, but then he wraps his arms around you, easily lifting you onto his lap while his tongue begins to clash with your own, a deep groan escaping from him.
“I guess she’s comfortable with now,” you hear Jeonghan muse.
“Gyu, settle down, we still have questions,” Seungcheol says.
With a moan of annoyance, Mingyu pulls away from your lips, then he turns you in his arms, making you face the unit leader. But he doesn’t stop entirely, his mouth finds your throat, and one of his hands grabs at your breast, kneading you through your shirt. 
You’re breathing hard already- Mingyu’s so warm and big and sexy- even so, you do your best to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, your lips parted unconsciously, body wiggling under Mingyu’s touch.
“Are you on any birth control, princess?” Seungcheol asks, leaning forward to watch the way his friend’s other hand slips down to your core, cupping you through your jeans.
“I got an IUD,” you admit, “right before the outbreak-”
Seungcheol’s eyes darken with lust. “Lucky us.” 
“Does this mean we can fuck you raw?” Mingyu groans in your ear, hips rutting up against your ass. 
“Please-” you whimper, practically drooling at the feeling of his hard cock pressing up by your bum.
“Gonna let us fill you up, baby?” he continues, undoing the button of your jeans.
“Yes-”
Seungcheol stands up abruptly, and he kicks the coffee table to the side, sending cards and trays clattering to the floor. He grabs you off of Mingyu’s lap, tossing you over his shoulder and turning toward one of the connected bedrooms. “You’re in for it tonight, dirty girl.”
The three other men stand to follow, and your entire body tingles with delight.
The rest of the world might be dealing with an apocalypse, but you’re pretty sure you’ve just found heaven.
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One
When Seungcheol had first shown you the tank in the prison garage, you’d been apprehensive about it. He’d explained that they don’t have the gas for it, so it’s never in use, and is more of a fun toy he goes and sits in sometimes to clear his head. The unit leader had helped you inside and taken the main seat, watching you cautiously move around the enclosed space. He’d explained the mechanics and buttons, dragging you to his lap so you could feel the tickle of his breath by your ear.
In the six months you’ve been fucking his unit, it’s become clear to Seungcheol that you like each man for very different reasons. He’s found that you become particularly baby girl with him when he’s explaining things to you, dominating you intellectually and teaching you new information. 
That first time in the tank, he’d begun stroking you, teasing you until he slipped his hand in your pants. You’d been as wet as you always are for him, and you’d eventually gotten the courage to fuck him in his tank chair, after he assured you over and over again that the armored vehicle is pretty soundproof.
He’s proud of how far you’ve come. It’s the same you, the same tank, but you’re much more daring than you were the first time. He’d thought you were pretty wild when he’d first met you, but that insatiable need you have has only grown, and he loves to see it.
The tank has become his favorite place to fuck you, away from everyone else. As fun as the orgies and threesomes are, sometimes, the unit leader just wants you for himself. 
He loves sitting back and watching you ride him, watching the way your ass bounces while your pussy squeezes his aching cock. 
“You’ve gotten so good at this, princess,” he groans, hands finding your hips to help you move up and down. It’s clear that you’re getting tired, but you won’t stop- you never stop until he tells you to, and he fucking loves you for it.
“Thank you, sir-” you whimper, opting for a slower pace but one that sinks you deeper- he can feel himself stretching out your walls near their breaking point, and he notes the way your legs quake.
Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, inhaling the stuffy scent of sex that’s already perfumed the small enclosed space. He wraps one hand around your front, finding your clit. Your shaky legs try to close around him, a squeal of delight escaping you.
“Don’t be like that,” Seungcheol says gently, while roughly pulling your thighs apart. “Let sir help you cum, you’ve been such a good little cock whore, riding me so good- now it’s your turn.”
“I’m sensitive-” you whimper.
“Well, that’s what happens when you let Mingyu eat you for breakfast, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” Seungcheol chuckles. This morning he’d walked in on you sprawled out on the coffee table, a moaning crying mess with Mingyu’s face buried between your thighs. 
He’d watched Mingyu make you cum three times while Seungcheol had sipped his morning coffee, and he’d been hard all day thinking about it, waiting for an opportunity to get you to himself. 
Now here you are, pussy clamped around his cock, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum three times too.
You can take it, he knows you can.
They’d tested your tolerance one day, taking turns making you cum until you physically couldn’t take anymore. 
Your high score had been ten, so six today is nothing… although, Wonwoo had walked in at the end of Mingyu’s meal, and Seungcheol’s pretty sure he has a bone to pick with you over it too, once Cheol is done with his own revenge, that is.
“Sir-” you whimper again, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.
“I can feel you tensing, princess,” he groans, rutting his hips up to meet you. “Be a good girl and let go for me.” He rubs your clit harder and you cry out, which only eggs him on more. “You’ve always been such a good little slut for me, ever since that first night. Don’t start being bad now. You can do it. Follow my order, and cum.”
You take a strangled breath, and Seungcheol can feel your pussy clenching desperately around him- he almost has half a mind to cum too, but he holds back, rubbing your pussy and letting you sink completely on his cock, warming him while your walls throb around his sensitive length. 
“That’s it,” he says in your ear. “Good girl.”
You twitch in his embrace, sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the tank. He gives you everything you can handle, and when you finally slump back against his chest, he relents. His hand leaves your clit and he presses soft kisses to your throat.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he tells you. 
“Please-”
He loves how needy you are, even after you’ve just cum.
It takes no effort at all for him to stand up, forcing you onto shaky legs. Two crude benches line the tank's inner walls, and he’s set up some cushioning on one. He lays you down, adjusting you on your back while you blink up at him. 
He’ll never get tired of that look in your eye. No matter how respectful and good you are verbally, there’s always something like a challenge lurking behind those pretty irises of yours. Seungcheol can’t help the way his hand reaches out to encircle your throat as he gets on top of you, one knee digging into the cushioning while he sinks his cock into your dripping hole.
“Fuck,” you whimper, throwing your head back while he squeezes your neck tighter.
He loves the way you grab at his wrist, applying even more pressure- it’s as if you want him to choke you out, and it’s one of the sexiest things he ever experiences with you. 
You trust him, completely. He has your life in his hands, and you’re more than willing to give up everything for him. 
The pressure on your throat has your whimpers turning squeaky as he begins to fuck you roughly. He loves watching your face, the way your eyes close, your body completely consumed by what he’s giving you.
“Sir-” you gasp, your pussy clenching tight around his cock.
“Are you going to cum again? That fast?” Seungcheol laughs. “And just from a little choking- you’re such a naughty girl, princess. Tell me you love it when I choke you like this.”
“I love it-” you cry out, taking a raspy breath when he lets up for a moment, just to tighten his grip on you again. 
He can see tears welling in the corners of your eyes, and it makes him fuck you harder, his cock sinking in completely with each thrust.
“If you want to cum again, you should cum,” he tells you. “In fact, I want you to cum again. Reach down and rub your clit for me. Get yourself there one more time before I give you what you really want.” 
You moan like a whore but you don’t argue. You never argue with Cheol. Shaky fingers find your clit and you squeal, shivering from the stimulus. 
You feel like absolute heaven, and Seungcheol would fuck you in this tank for hours if he had the time. 
“Sir-” you whimper, a warning of your impending high.
“Cum on my cock,” he tells you, another command that you won’t argue with.
Even if you wanted to, Seungcheol doubts you could control yourself. Your body beats to the sound of its own drum, your brain be damned, and right now, Seungcheol is the one controlling the tempo.
For the second time, your pussy clamps down on his cock, and Seungcheol has to focus really hard on not busting with you. Your pussy feels like magic, warm wet walls wrapped around his length like you were made for him. 
“Look at you,” Seungcheol groans, hips continuing their brutal pace. “Cumming two times in a row- who’s my good little whore?”
“I am!”
“Who makes you cum this good?”
“You do, sir!”
“And what do you want now, my greedy little princess?”
“Your cum- Fuck! I want your cum in me-” 
He loves that you have a thing about being filled up. One time he’d been tempted to finish on your ass, and you’d cried at the thought of not having him inside you. Your favorite thing is when all four of them take turns filling you to the brink- he’s never seen someone as submissive and breedable as you after having four loads in your pussy. 
And the way you thank him every time he fills you up- it’s an experience that will never get old.
“I’m close, princess, but you know sir doesn’t cum unless his pretty girl does,” Seungcheol muses. “You have one more for me, right?”
“Fuck, yes, sir-” He notes the way you rub your clit harder, and you immediately let out a groan- Seungcheol lets go of your neck, pinching your nipple roughly, which earns another strangled sound from your lips.
“Tell me when, princess, then sir will fill you up.”
“Almost there, almost there-” you assure him, brows knitted together in concentration as you work your already oversensitive clit. 
Seungcheol and his unit have spent six months overstimulating you. Six months teaching your body to test the limits and cum over and over and over again- and this is the reward.
Your main dominant leans over you, massaging your breast while his lips meet your throat. He knows your sweet spots like the back of his hand, and you immediately shiver below him, a gasp escaping you.
“Cumming-” you whisper, as your walls clench like a vice on his cock.
The feeling triggers Seungcheol’s orgasm, the tight cord finally releasing.
Seungcheol had thought his sex life before the outbreak was good, but he’s never cum the way he does when he’s with you. His whole body is alight with pleasure, groans leaving him without a care in the world. His hips move to their own pace, twitching as he shoots ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, creaming your pulsing walls and marking you - if even for this moment - as his. 
“Sir-” you whimper, grabbing his face and searching for his lips.
You kiss him deeply, tongue gliding against his own while you moan into each other's mouths, riding out the orgasms. 
As Seungcheol finishes and his hips come to a stop, there’s a knocking on the tank hatch. A moment later, Wonwoo is poking his head through the hole. “These tanks aren’t as soundproof as you think, Cheol.”
“Well, no one comes down here except Z1,” the unit leader points out.
“True.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift past Seungcheol to you. Your body is still mostly covered, but the moment Seungcheol gets off of you, you’re completely exposed. Seungcheol tosses you a handcloth to take care of the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and you blink up at the team’s sniper, who flashes you a wink. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi, Wonwoo,” you grin.
“Looks like Gyu and Cheol have made a mess of you today.”
“If you give me a little, I can take more,” you assure him, which makes Seungcheol laugh.
How’d they ever luck out and find a nymphomaniac able to take all four men and keep up with their appetites? 
Wonwoo cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “I know you like being fucked in a tank, but how would you feel about being fucked on top of one?” 
“What if someone sees?”
Seungcheol laughs again. “Like I said, the only people who come down here are the Z1 unit. If anyone is going to show up, it’s Jeonghan. But we all know you’d like that, wouldn’t you, princess?”
The way your eyes light up is answer enough and Seungcheol pulls on his pants, shaking his head at your insatiable appetite. “Her number is already at six,” he warns Wonwoo, helping you onto your feet and pulling your easy-access dress over your head. “Give her ten minutes to calm down, and when you finally do fuck her, don’t be mean.”
“I’m never mean,” Wonwoo insists, reaching a hand down through the tank hatch hole to help pull you up and out.
Seungcheol follows you on the ladder, making sure your shaky legs don’t lead to any accidents. “Liar.” 
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Two
Jeonghan loves everything about you, but he’s grown particularly fond of your mouth in recent months. When he has to share you with three other men who all fight for your pussy, it’s not unusual for Jeonghan to be perfectly content with getting a blow job while he waits.
He likes the lack of effort he has to put into it, but the reward is quite similar to what he experiences between your thighs. It also opens him up to be able to praise you, or degrade you, in any way he sees fit. Out of all four of your military fuck buddies, Jeonghan is the biggest talker. Mingyu has his moments, but when he’s close to cumming, he opts for moaning instead of chatting, which is Jeonghan’s specialty.
When he gets you alone, Jeonghan still likes a good blow job as an appetizer before the main course, and there’s nothing more fitting than having you on your knees for him in the prison chapel. 
“You look good like this,” Jeonghan muses, threading his fingers through your hair to help you find a good pace on his cock. “My perfect little kitten.”
You moan around his length, looking up at him with those pretty eyes he loves so much. 
You’re naked. He’d stripped you the moment you entered the church, and now, as per his direction, your hand is between your thighs, fingers stroking your clit while you suck him off.
“Always so dirty for me in a place of worship-” Jeonghan muses. “But that’s what you’re doing, right? Worshipping? You’re even on your knees and everything.”
When he’d first started fucking you here, you’d made him check the confession booth every time, just to be sure Joshua wasn’t around. Jeonghan knows you don’t have problems with being watched - or listened to - but it had been clear you felt ashamed of the idea of the priest hearing Jeonghan fuck you in the House of God. 
The first time Jeonghan had pulled open the door of the confession booth to find the priest sitting there, he’d allowed the man to be a quiet vouyer without telling you. It had added to his own enjoyment, and it had been clear from the look in the priest’s eye that he was content with listening too. 
It’s been a few months since you’ve asked Jeonghan to check the confession booths- you’ve become much too used to being railed in the chapel, and now, everytime he fucks you here, Jeonghan wonders if the priest is listening in. 
Jeonghan enjoys the almost performative nature that his dirty talk takes on at the idea of another man being in the vicinity. It makes his skin tingle, and his cock ache, to think that the ‘innocent priest’ is hearing every filthy word- every gagging sound you make when Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat.
It’s become clear to Jeonghan that Joshua is anything but innocent, and the two have an unacknowledged agreement of secrecy. What takes place in the House of God, stays in the House of God, especially the sin that’s being committed here weekly.
“There you go, kitten,” Jeonghan groans loudly. “Take all of me, that’s it.”
His hips push forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes start to water as you stare up at him, and Jeonghan brushes them away, enjoying the wetness on his fingers way too much.
“So good,” he coos. “So fucking good.”
You whimper around his cock and he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to still on his length so he can begin fucking your face. 
“Such a perfect hole for me, kitten.” Jeonghan can feel his muscles tensing, can feel an orgasm building in his balls. “How's your pussy feel? Are you getting close too?”
You let out a moan of affirmation, closing your eyes and relaxing your throat while he ruts into your mouth. He’s spent months teaching you how to take cock like this, how to ignore your gagging instinct- and he’s so proud of the progress you’ve made for him.
“Don’t cum on your fingers, you only get to cum on my cock,” he warns you, using you toward his own end.
As much as he loves your mouth, nothing beats the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his length- and he knows you love his cum, knows you love nothing more than feeling him dripping out of your used pussy as you stagger back toward the prison, clutched to his arm.
He’ll give you everything you want. He always does.
“Just a little more, kitten,” Jeonghan groans, enjoying the way your mouth sucks him in with each thrust.
He hopes you’re dripping already. The wooden floor had been less than ideal to fuck on the first two times you’d used the church as a hookup spot, and since then, Jeonghan’s taken to letting you kneel on his military jacket.
He loves the way it smells like you after, but Jeonghan’s always been a bit of a pervert. Sometimes you grace him by slipping your panties into his jacket pocket, and on supply runs, he can play with them when he’s not occupied.
As you bring him closer and closer to his peak, Jeonghan decides he’s had enough of your mouth. He pulls out, and you take a shuddered breath, drool still connecting you to his cock. Jeonghan can’t help himself, he taps his length against your cheek, grinning down at you.
“Ready for me?”
“Yes, Hannie,” you nod, wiping your face with the back of your hand before adjusting on his jacket. You lay down, spreading your legs so he can see your pretty pussy, all wet and needy for him. “Please-”
Jeonghan gets down onto his knees, grabbing and teasing your breast, thumb rubbing over your pebbled nipple. “Beg for it.”
“I want your cock,” you whimper. “Please, I need it inside- I need it so bad, Hannie, please-”
He groans at your words, adjusting so he’s hovering over you. He grabs the base of his throbbing cock, rubbing it through your folds and teasing your clit. You wiggle below him at the stimulus, grabbing at his shoulders. 
Jeonghan can’t help but kiss you as he pushes his length into your pussy, going as deep as he can while you both groan into each other’s mouths. 
Your legs wrap around his hips, keeping him close even as he begins to thrust. 
His free hand finds your clit, drawing circular motions that have you shaking beneath him. “Aw, kitten, are you close too?”
“So close-” you confirm, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. 
He fucks you harder, enjoying the squeaky sounds that escape you and fill the chapel. Jeonghan watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, your body wiggling beneath him while he fills you over and over again with his cock.
“Hannie-” you gasp, walls clenching tighter and tighter around him.
“Come on, kitten. Cum on this cock and beg for me to fill you up like the dirty girl you are.”
“I need your cum,” you cry out, “I need it- please, Hannie, please give it to me-”
He rubs your clit harder and you let out a choked sound, back arching so your tits are pressed to his bare chest. 
“Hannie-” You gasp loudly, your orgasm slamming into you. Your walls contract around Jeonghan’s aching cock, triggering his own high. He lets out a groan, continuing on your clit while he fucks you through it.
There’s no prettier sound in the world than a woman cumming in a church, your moans echoing through the enclosed space like angels singing.
Jeonghan fucks you until he physically can’t fuck you anymore, and then he half collapses on top of you, dragging your lips to his own.
You kiss him desperately, tangling your fingers in his hair so he can’t get away, your legs wrapped tight around him. You’re still whimpering, trying to overcome the aftershocks of your orgasm.
You’re beautiful.
So, so beautiful. 
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Three
Wonwoo might actually be obsessed with watching you cum- and if he’s obsessed with watching you cum, then Mingyu’s obsessed with making you cum. Even though they’ve both already filled you with their loads, Mingyu’s back between your thighs again. His large hand is pressed over your abdomen, keeping you from thrashing around while he sucks on your clit and finger fucks the cum back into your abused hole.
Wonwoo is sitting in a chair next to the bed, eyes fixed on your body. If he hadn’t already cum twice, he’d be tempted to pull his cock out again.
“Please- Gyu, I can’t- I can’t-”
“One more,” Wonwoo encourages you. “You can take one more, beautiful.” 
You grab at the sheets, twisting them as Mingyu continues his unrelenting pace between your shaking thighs.
“Fuck-” you whimper, sounds becoming more desperate.
Wonwoo can hear how slick your pussy is, each thrust of Mingyu’s fingers has you squelching-
“She’s gonna cum,” Wonwoo announces, knowing your body almost as well as you do.
Mingyu groans lewdly against your clit, and the vibrations must trigger your orgasm, because you wrap your thighs completely around his head, back arching. Your gasps fill Wonwoo’s room, your grip on his bed released in favour of grabbing Mingyu’s hair.
It’s clear you’re trying to push the man away, but Mingyu doesn’t budge, helping you through your high until tears of pleasure are rolling down your cheeks.
“That’s enough,” Wonwoo says when it becomes clear that you’re bordering on overstimulation. The sniper stands from his chair, gaze lingering on your body. “We asked for one more, and she gave it to us. Give the girl a break.”
Mingyu sighs, but pulls away from your pussy, dragging his fingertips along your throbbing inner walls a few more times before he relents there too. He presents his wet digits to your mouth, and you greedily suck them clean, grabbing his wrist and closing your eyes while you lick up every drop of cum.
“I’ll go grab us food,” Wonwoo sighs. It’s past dinnertime, and as far as Mingyu had been concerned, you’d been his meal, but if Wonwoo is fast, he can make it in time to grab something from the cafeteria.
The barracks have a food stash, but Wonwoo doesn’t have the energy to cook, not after fucking you for two hours. 
“Don’t go anywhere,” he warns as he heads to the door.
“As if she can even walk,” Mingyu laughs, pulling his fingers from your mouth in favour of spooning you on the bed, dragging you close to his chest.
Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else as he leaves. Seungcheol and Jeonghan aren’t around, something about a meeting with Woozi to look over maps of surrounding locations with potential food stores. 
When Wonwoo passes the Z2 rooms, he finds them also empty. Z2 generally frequent the compound’s survivor zones before bed, doing final checks for the night.
Wonwoo thinks about you the entire walk to the cellblock. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head lately. There are the physical things- like the look in your eyes when you’re about to cum, the way sweat glistens on your skin, your nipples pebbling under his touch. But there’s the non-physical side too, the way you make him feel at night when you’re curled against his side, neither of you speaking, hands stroking each other gently-
When Wonwoo makes it to the cafeteria, he finds it nearly deserted. Dino is standing to the side of the room with the priest, and Seokmin has just started putting away the last of the food.
Grabbing two trays, Wonwoo immediately heads for Seokmin, who sighs at his lateness but begins serving him anyways. 
The two are silent as Seokmin shovels food for Wonwoo. He doesn’t say anything, but Seokmin serves three portions. As your friend, Wonwoo thinks Seokmin must know about the arrangement you have with Z1, although he’s never mentioned anything about it. 
Wonwoo’s not entirely sure who knows about what’s going on with you and the four men who have solidified themselves as your constant companions. He’d guess that a number of people have figured out there’s some type of arrangement, especially after Seungcheol had insisted you get less work tasks last month when your duties had interfered with his fuck schedule.
Wonwoo can feel eyes on him, and when his trays are full, he turns to look at Dino and the priest. The Z2 member waves him over, and despite every fiber of his being telling Wonwoo to ignore his friend and find his way back to you, Wonwoo approaches the two men.
“That’s a lot of food,” Dino notes.
“Mingyu’s hungry,” Wonwoo says, his gaze shifting to the priest who has a watchful eye that’s always gotten under his skin. “I didn’t know you were friends.”
“I’m friend to anyone who needs an attentive ear,” the priest says smoothly. 
“He’s a really good listener,” Dino confirms.
Joshua cocks his head, staring Wonwoo up and down. “If you ever need-”
“I don’t,” Wonwoo interjects. “Goodnight.”
As he leaves the cafeteria, Wonwoo can hear Dino trying to explain his behaviour. “Wonwoo’s not a big talker,” the Z2 unit member says in a hushed tone.
And even if he was, Wonwoo certainly wouldn’t be talking to Joshua of all people. While many of the survivors clearly like the man, something is off about the priest, and Wonwoo can feel it in his bones.
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Four
Mingyu’s knee had been bobbing the entire jeep ride back to the prison. Missions always make him giddy- any day could be his last, and there’s nothing quite like celebrating another day of life with you when the unit gets back to the compound.
He’s not the only one who’s feeling it. Missions often end with a return to the prison and all four men setting off to find you, eager to see who will be successful in their weekly guessing game of ‘where’s baby?’
“I’m checking the chapel,” Jeonghan announces as soon as the car has come to a stop.
“Jeonghan and his church sex obsession,” Cheol sighs, watching his friend dart off.
“She might be in the garden with Hansol,” Wonwoo says thoughtfully. “It’s a nice day out, that always gets her mind off of shit.”
Adjusting the gun over his back, Wonwoo follows Jeonghan out of the parking garage, which leaves Mingyu with the unit leader.
“They’re both going to be wrong,” Seungcheol grins.
“Yeah?”
“Our little princess gets anxious when we’re gone, especially these days,” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “My money is she’s waiting in one of our beds, napping to pass the time for us to come back.”
“That does sound like her,” Mingyu admits, and the two of them head to the door that will give them the easiest access to the barracks.
“Jeonghan probably could have figured it out, but you know how he gets about his church blowjobs,” Cheol grins. 
“And Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, wondering about his friend’s motives. 
Seungcheol takes a moment before he responds. “I think he likes it when he gets to see her out in the sun.”
Before the outbreak, when Mingyu and Wonwoo had known each other through the military, Mingyu was the designated lover boy. Wonwoo’s never been the type to even look at girls, and the past few months have been a shock for everyone to see what the stoic sniper looks like when he’s falling for someone.
You and Wonwoo had been a slow burn, due to Wonwoo’s generally quiet nature, but in those first months, Wonwoo had probably spent the most time shadowing you. In that time period, Mingyu would go up to the lookout tower and spot you in the garden, Wonwoo a few feet behind, his hand always on his gun despite Hansol being the only other person with you.
When Seungcheol had broached the idea of your only job being their plaything, it had been the first time you’d ever pushed back, insisting that you liked gardening and helping with the plants. Wonwoo had been right there to back you up, and Seungcheol had begrudgingly agreed to let you keep your ‘little hobby.’
In the back corners of Mingyu’s mind, he kind of hopes you are in the garden right now. Wonwoo had almost died on their mission today- zombie jaws had come within an inch of his arm, and if anyone deserves some ‘you time’ after all of that, it’s Wonwoo.
When Seungcheol and Mingyu make it back to the barracks, Mingyu’s small hopes are dashed. The unit leader is the best at guessing moves, in card games and life, and he’d been spot on about you sleeping in someone’s bed. 
You’re in Jeonghan’s room of all places, and you sit up as the two men enter the common space, watching them set down their guns from the messy tangle of sheets. 
You hop onto your feet at the same time that Mingyu begins to run to you. When you jump into his arms, he lifts you off the floor, spinning you around and burying his face against your throat. 
Hugs are never as tight as they are after missions.
“Are you guys all okay?” you ask when Mingyu sets you down, only for Seungcheol to engulf you in an embrace of his own. 
“We’re all good,” the unit leader responds. “A little banged up, but nothing we can’t handle.”
You pull away from Seungcheol to look at his face, and Mingyu watches the way you brush your thumb across the unit leader’s cheek. “Looks like you need a shower,” you muse, having just wiped away some dirt.
“Looks like we all need a shower,” Seungcheol agreed with a groan. He tosses you over his shoulder and Mingyu grins at the sight. Out of all of them, Cheol’s the biggest man handler, but you clearly don’t mind.
One of the nicest things about their little Z1 master unit is that it comes with it’s own bathroom. The other units have small double occupancy rooms, a common area, and a common shower/toilet space. Mingyu feels bad for the other units sometimes, but rank in military means something; Seungcheol is the highest ranking person at the prison, so he gets to call the shots, and his unit reaps the rewards. 
Z1 has taken advantage of the large shower in their bathroom more times than Mingyu can count. There’s nothing like getting steamy in a room full of steam. 
Seungcheol strips you naked, turning on the shower while Mingyu takes off his clothes too. Mingyu can’t wait anymore, and he tugs your nude form against his own, kissing you stupid.
You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your beautiful tits pressing up against his bare chest. Mingyu’s cock is already getting hard, pushing up between your bodies. You wiggle your hips, providing stimulus that has him groaning loudly, his hands reaching down to grab your ass.
It’s all too easy for Mingyu to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his body while he carries you into the shower, your lips still locked in a desperate battle. 
Instead of putting you under the stream of water, Mingyu presses you against the wall, slowly allowing you back onto your feet. As much as he’d love to rail you right now, he knows that he’s just as dirty as Seungcheol is at the moment- which means you’ll wash his body for him. God, he loves teasing foreplay like this- the way you immediately grab at the prized bottle of body wash to lather it up in your hands. 
Mingyu watches, holding his breath as you bring your palms to his shoulders, beginning to wash his large frame.
“Dirty boy,” you muse, grinning while you rub away the dirt and grime.
“Dirty girl,” he counters, lifting his hands so he can box you in against the wall.
He sees the way your breath hitches- you like to feel small, and Mingyu loves to deliver on it. He might not be as outwardly dominant as Seungcheol or Wonwoo, but Mingyu knows that his height does something to you- the way he has to tip his head to look down and meet your eyes.
Your hands trail down to his abdomen, nails teasing his skin there while he shivers. He wishes you’d just sink to your knees and wrap your mouth around his cock-
“Turn around for me, big guy,” you grin, pulling your touch away from where he needs you most. 
With a groan, Mingyu does as he’s told, and you begin to wash his back. When you reach up to do his shoulders, he feels your bare tits press against his spine. He closes his eyes, grabbing at his cock to begin stroking himself.
“Hey,” you chastise, immediately seeing what he’s doing and wrapping an arm around his front to grab at his hand. “That’s my job.”
“He’s needy today,” Seungcheol grins, watching from just outside the shower.
“I’m needy every day,” Mingyu corrects, releasing his length only to replace his hand with your own- you’re so much smaller than him, and when he looks down, he loves the way you make his cock look massive with your tiny hand wrapped around the girth. 
You begin to stroke him, and Mingyu lets out a loud groan. 
“Does it feel good, big guy?” you ask, squeezing tighter to his back.
“Feels amazing,” he breathes, closing his eyes to enjoy you. 
“I hate to be the one to say it,” Seungchol laughs, “but water stores have been low lately. As much as I’d love to watch this, we’re supposed to be saving supply by showering together, not taking our sweet time.”
“Then come join, sir, I’m sure you need a good rub down too,” you grin.
Seungcheol takes a step forward- just as the door to the bathroom opens, Wonwoo sliding in. He takes one look at the scene in front of him, and begins stripping down.
The unit leader stops his advances, and it’s clear to Mingyu that Seungcheol knows as well as he does that if one person needs you right now, it’s Wonwoo.
“I’ll wait,” Seungcheol sighs, making room for Wonwoo to slip past him into the shower now that he’s removed his clothes. 
Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, he simply pushes Gyu to the side and grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours. Your soapy hands find Wonwoo’s toned chest, and you begin to wash him even as he kisses you, pressing you back against the wall. 
Mingyu turns to watch, rinsing the bubbles off his skin while you lather up his best friend. Then, his grip returns to his cock. Your cute little hands have always turned him on, and watching you rub Wonwoo’s shoulders, attacking the specks of dirt there like it’s your job- fuck, everything you do just makes Mingyu horny.
Wonwoo pulls you away from the wall suddenly, spinning you around so your back is now pressed to Mingyu’s chest while the three of you are submerged in water. Mingyu can’t help but lean down and begin to kiss your throat, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it while you whimper and wriggle between their bodies. 
From this vantage point, Mingyu can see your hand slip from Wonwoo’s shoulders and down his chest. You grab at the sniper’s cock, pumping it slowly while Wonwoo continues to kiss you.
The soap washes away quickly, and as soon as you’re all clean, Wonwoo pushes you and Mingyu backward, prompting you to all leave the shower. “Your turn,” Wonwoo tells Cheol as your trio passes him.
“Princess isn’t going to wash me off too?” Cheol’s tone is teasing, but Mingyu can sense the hurt there.
“Not today,” Wonwoo responds gruffy, reaching for one of the towels. He wraps it around your body first, drying you off with efficient motions.
Mingyu grabs his own towel, eager to get rid of the water on his body. He knows what comes next, and he’s not going to waste a second.
When Wonwoo is done with you, you begin to dry him, your lips still tangled together. Mingyu stifles a laugh at the vision in front of him, the way the two of you can be so focused on each other and the task at hand. 
Wonwoo breaks the kiss to look at Mingyu over your shoulder. “If you’re joining, you better go grab some lube.”
“Right-” Mingyu swallows thickly, wrapping a towel around his hips as he exits the bathroom. 
He nearly runs straight into Jeonghan, and the older man grins. “Orgy time?”
“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says, hurrying to his room to grab the bottle of lube he keeps there. “I think it’s me and Wonwoo right now.”
“Cheol must have loved that,” Jeonghan scoffs.
“You two can have her after,” Mingyu promises.
“We will,” Jeonghan laughs, following Mingyu back into the bathroom. 
Wonwoo’s already inside of you, your feet off the ground while the muscular man presses you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips. You’re moaning loudly, Wonwoo’s face buried in the crook of your throat. Your eyes open as Jeonghan and Mingyu enter the bathroom, and the look of lust in your expression is enough to have Mingyu throbbing.
“I’ve got the lube,” he announces. 
Keeping up with four men means you’ve gotten adept at anal. Even so, it had taken you two months before you could properly handle Mingyu’s large cock, but the pay off has been… more than fulfilling, to say the least.
Wonwoo pulls you off the wall, and Mingyu slots behind you, squirting some lube on his fingers. The sniper adjusts his hands on your ass, spreading you open for Mingyu so he can press a finger into your tight hole.
You whimper loudly, and Mingyu does his best to soothe you by speckling your shoulders with kisses. “So good for us,” he murmurs.
You’re taking his finger so well, and it prompts him to add a second, stretching you open while you cling to Wonwoo. 
“Hurry up,” the sniper groans, holding still inside of you while Mingyu preps your ass.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Mingyu admits; none of them do.
“I can take it,” you moan. “Please, Gyu-”
“Fuck,” Mingyu breathes, slathering his cock with lube before tossing the bottle into the sink. He grabs his base, rubbing his tip through your cheeks and prodding your hole. “If you need me to stop, just say something.”
He tries his best to be gentle, slowly sinking inch after inch of his long cock into your ass. You cry out loudly, burying your face against Wonwoo’s neck. 
Mingyu doesn’t try to make you take him all in one go, he starts with four inches, thrusting shallowly into your ass. Wonwoo takes the motion as a prompt to continue fucking you too, and the men begin to manhandle you between them, a push-pull.
Behind Wonwoo, Seungcheol and Jeonghan have switched places in the shower. The unit leader is now standing half dried off, water droplets sinking down his toned chest while his hand works his own cock.
They’ve all gotten used to watching each other like this, but the knowledge that Cheol is fixated on the act has Mingyu wanting to prove himself even more. He sinks another inch of his cock into your ass, and you moan lewdly in Wonwoo’s ear, wriggling in their grasp.
“Feels good?” Mingyu asks.
“Feels amazing,” you whimper, nails digging into Wonwoo’s shoulders. “I want more.”
“More?” Mingyu laughs.
“Don’t hold back,” you tell him.
This time, when Mingyu thrusts, he allows his front to hit your ass, his cock fully buried in your tight hole.
You let out a strangled cry.
“Our little cock whore,” Cheol muses, “loves being full to the fucking brim.”
“Sir-” you whimper, your walls tightening around Mingyu.
“Fuck, I’m close-” Mingyu groans at the sensation. “Baby, you’re close too, right? Fuck, you’re squeezing us so fucking tight-”
“I’m close, I’m close-” you nod desperately.
“Gonna let us cum and fill you up the way you like-”
“Gyu, please-” you whimper, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing his lips to your throat.
“We’ll fill you up,” Mingyu promises.
Wonwoo’s not much of a talker in bed, especially under the watchful gaze of Jeonghan and Seungcheol. But when it’s just Wonwoo, Gyu and you, Wonwoo gets out of his shell more. Mingyu’s become an expert at listening to his older friend’s sounds, of anticipating when he’s on the brink-
The soft grunts escaping the sniper’s lips are a clear indicator that he’s as close to the edge as you and Gyu are. Mingyu knows better than anyone that the moment you cum, it’s over for them both. They don’t have the control Seungcheol does to hold off an orgasm while your walls throb around them, and they don’t have the vindictive side to edge you.
No, Wonwoo and Mingyu understand each other. What you see is what you get, and when you begin to beg, they’ll give you anything and everything you could ever ask them for.
“Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you cry as they both fuck you even rougher.
“Cum for us, beautiful,” Wonwoo groans. “Cum on our cocks.”
You let out a pitchy scream, and your walls clamp down on Mingyu’s length, driving him into a frenzy as you throw him over the edge with you. His fingers dig into your hips, his cock pistoning in and out of your ass while Wonwoo matches the fevered pace. The two men moan deeply while your body milks them for all they’re worth, drawing their cum deep inside of you.
“Holy shit-” Mingyu moans. He’s not one to cry from sex like you are, not the type to get so overstimulated that tears fall, but fuck, he feels like he’s on the verge of it tonight.
His body takes over, his animalistic instincts driving him to fuck you through your high even though his muscles are screaming at him to stop. His cock is throbbing endlessly, pleasure surging along his skin hotter than any shower water ever could be.
It’s Wonwoo who stops first, pressing his lips to yours while you grab his face, moaning like their perfect little whore. Mingyu’s thrusts end shortly after, his cock buried deep in your hole, his chest pressed to your back while he kisses your neck.
The sound of the shower has stopped. Mingyu’s not sure when that happened, but when he opens his eyes to inspect what’s going on, he finds Cheol wiping his own cum off his chest.
“What about round two?” Jeonghan asks, cock in hand as he stands in the shower.
“No round two,” Wonwoo says flatly. 
“No round two?” Jeonghan looks shocked, and his gaze shifts to Seungcheol. “Is he allowed to declare that?”
“They fucked her stupid, Hannie,” Seungcheol laughs. “You should have had the brains to make yourself cum while you had a show.”
Mingyu pulls out of your ass, and the two of you groan at the loss. Grabbing some tissues, Mingyu immediately cleans up the cum leaking from your hole. When he’s done, Wonwoo heads to the door with you still embraced against his chest. Mingyu follows like a helpless puppy as the sniper takes you to his room. 
It’s evident that Wonwoo is intent on cuddling you now, and it’s clear from your expression that you’re on the verge of passing out. To make things easier on everyone, Mingyu puts his towel onto the bed, hoping to catch any more cum that’s going to drip out of your used holes.
As the three of you settle onto the bed, Wonwoo’s the one who holds you close to his chest, and Mingyu’s more than happy to be the big spoon behind you.
“You’re in a mood,” you whisper, clearly speaking to Wonwoo. Your finger traces his collarbone, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his throat. “Are you alright?”
“I’m alive,” Wonwoo says simply.
Mingyu knows it’s not his place to join this conversation. He feels lucky that he can even witness it, that the two of you feel comfortable enough being even slightly vulnerable together in front of him. 
If Wonwoo’s not going to go into details about his near zombification bite today, Mingyu’s not going to bring it up either, although the sentiment of the words ‘I’m alive’ weigh heavily on his heart.
When this whole thing had started, Mingyu thinks you were all taking each day like it was your last. But now, six months in, it’s clear you all have something important to live for.
Call it love, call it attraction, call it lust- whatever it is, it’s the glue holding you and the unit together, the thing that’s become worth fighting for.
“I’m happy you’re okay,” you tell Wonwoo, but when you place your hand over Mingyu’s, it’s clear you’re talking to them both.
Mingyu squeezes your fingers gently, a silent agreement that he’s happy you’re all living another day. 
If anything ever happened to any of you at this point in your unconventional relationship, he’s not sure he could continue going on.
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Five
Joshua has been distracted his entire sermon. It’s getting hard to read the holy words while his brain is preoccupied with the most unholy of thoughts.
He’s known for a while that the Z1 unit tosses you amongst themselves. He’s heard Jeonghan fucking you more times than he can count. But he’s never witnessed any of these… indiscretions with his own eyes. 
Until now.
He’d been out for a walk in the morning, touring the prison garden with the hopes of bumping into you. What he’d stumbled upon, however, was the sight of you pressed against a wall, the Z1 sniper’s pants hung low on his hips, your legs wrapped around his body while he fucked you stupid, his hand clamped over your mouth.
Joshua had been frozen- or maybe he’d chosen to stay, although it’s hard to admit that to himself. Despite the palm over your lips, your muffled whimpers had still been music to the priest’s ears, and he can’t get the song of you out of his head.
And then you’d opened your eyes, looking directly at him.
Joshua’s voice hitches, and he mentally smacks himself, clearing his throat as he continues the passage he’s reading to the group of adoring survivors. They have no clue that the podium he’s standing behind is hiding the half-chub growing in his pants, and Joshua almost revels at the secret knowledge, the secret sin. 
If only they knew what the dirty priest thinks about when no one else was around.
The chapel door opens, and Joshua pauses to watch you slip into a seat in the very back.
You’ve never come to one of these before, and it can’t be a coincidence that today of all days, you’re here to listen to him speak.
Your presence is a distraction, but it also pushes Joshua to do better. He wants to perform for you, wants to show you how good his sermons can be.
It almost feels as if the passages end too quickly for Joshua’s liking, and with a closing statement, survivors begin to dispurse. By now, his half chub has died down, and Joshua stands in front of the church, bidding goodnight to the parishioners who come to thank him for service. 
Even as he chats briefly with people, his eyes keep finding you.
You haven’t moved from your seat, and as more bodies leave, it becomes clear that you have a motive behind being here.
Finally, it’s just the two of you left. Joshua approaches, his hands clasped in front of his body. “You came,” he notes, delighted at the double entendre to his words. 
“Yeah, I uh…” you lick your lips. “Father, I wanted to apologize-”
“We have a confession booth for that,” Joshua muses. “You’ve been here six months, I think it’s time, don’t you?”
You take a deep breath, your eyes shifting to the booths in the corner of the chapel. “Do we really have to do this there?”
“There’s no better place,” he assures you, stepping back and holding out a hand in the direction of the confessionals. “After you.”
After a moment of deliberation, you stand up, nodding as you pass the priest. As you walk in front of him, Joshua notes your body. You’re wearing a jacket and a dress, the cream colour of the skirt’s fabric almost looks virginal, except he knows better. You’re anything but a virgin.
When you get to the booth, you look at both doors. “Which one-”
“On the left, darling.”
With another tight lipped smile and a nod, you enter the confession booth.
Joshua takes a deep breath, his skin tingling with excitement. As he enters the priest’s side, his mind reels with the possibilities of what you’re about to say to him. 
Joshua revels in the knowledge that his parishioners bestow upon him. Their confessions help him figure them out, see what makes them tick. He’s long been wondering about you and your… motives for being.
You’re a math problem he can’t wait to crack, and he’s excited for you to give him a cheat sheet.
The booth is silent, and Joshua waits patiently. 
Finally, you sigh. “How do I even begin?”
“A confession generally starts when you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ then you tell me how long it’s been since your last confession, and we go from there,” Joshua explains. 
He can hear you breathing, can feel the anxiety wafting off of you.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say. “It’s been… too many days to count since my last confession.”
There’s silence again, and it’s clear you need more guidance. “What are your sins, darling?”
“Lust,” you blurt out. “Lust is a big one… and I think… probably greed too. Do you think I’m greedy, Father?”
He definitely thinks you’re greedy. One girl being passed around by four men- it’s as greedy and lustful as he’s ever seen, but Joshua keeps that to himself. “I’d need more details about your situation in order to make an adequate assessment.”
“Well, I mean… you saw me with Wonwoo today.”
Joshua stays silent.
“I just want you to know… We didn’t think anyone would see us.”
“God sees all.”
“God I can handle, but you? It’s different that you saw it.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, because-” you pause. “It’s just different.”
Joshua considers your words. “We live in rough times,” he says finally. “Unprecedented days. It’s not unusual to seek comfort in a situation like this. I would never judge you for finding comfort in the arms of a man like Wonwoo.”
“Except… I think… I think we both know it’s not just Wonwoo I seek comfort in.”
Joshua’s heart beats loud in his chest, and excitement tingles across his skin. “Go on, darling.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“Why are you apprehensive?” Joshua asks.
“I was asked not to discuss this with anyone, but- I mean, you saw me and Wonwoo, so I wanted to come here to apologize for that, not to get into the messy details.”
The priest immediately guesses the culprit behind your secrecy. It’s just like Choi Seungcheol to give you a boundary like this. You’re the Z1 unit’s open little secret. Anyone with eyes trained to look can see what’s going on, but the prison has a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. And no one pries into the personal lives of Choi Seungcheol or his men.
“It would feel better to confess,” Joshua tells you. “No one would have to know.”
“I’d know.”
“And it would stay between us. You can trust me.” Joshua’s a master secret keeper, and he’s eager to add yours to his long list of indiscretions carried out by desperate survivors.
“That’s the thing, Father, I’m not sure I can.”
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” Joshua asked, perplexed by you. Has he been slipping? 
No, it couldn’t be. His carefully created mask is good enough to charm and convince anyone-
“Wonwoo wasn’t happy about you stumbling across us today,” you note.
Ahh, Joshua nods to himself, Wonwoo, the sniper with the sharp eyes. Things are beginning to make sense. 
“Maybe Wonwoo should be in the confessional, not you,” Joshua muses.
“He’d never come here,” you laugh. “He wouldn’t even want me to be here right now, not alone.”
“And yet, here you are, darling. Alone.” 
“This wasn’t a good idea.”
Joshua hears you stand up. Part of him wants to find a way to manipulate you into staying, but he’s already toed the line by calling you ‘darling’ multiple times. If he does anything else, it might incur the wrath of Seungcheol. The priest still has plausible deniability on his side for the petnames, but anything further might be the tipping point.
“I’m always here,” Joshua assures you, wondering if you’ll clue into the word ‘always,’ and see the true meaning there. “You’re welcome in my confessional any time.”  
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Six
Your pulse is still racing from your interaction with the priest when you make it back to the Z1 dorm. Your four lovers are playing cards, a general pastime for them when they’re not blowing your back out, and they all look up as you slip inside the room.
“Baby?” Mingyu puts his cards down, standing to address you. “Are you alright?”
“Me? Yeah- of course, why wouldn’t I be alright?” you ask.
“You look off,” Wonwoo notes, also getting to his feet, an expression of concern evident in his handsome features.
“Tell us what happened,” Seungcheol commands.
“Sir-”
“Tell us,” he insists.
“I went to the chapel,” you tell them, watching Wonwoo’s expression drop. “I uh- the priest saw me and Wonwoo today so I went to apologize-”
“The priest caught you?” Jeonghan laughs, still seated and clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him. “Naughty, naughty.” 
“Shut it,” Seungcheol warns his friend, gaze shifting back to you. “Then what happened?”
You swallow thickly. “We went into the confessional and- I mean, I didn’t tell him anything, but, there was something about the vibes- the way he spoke to me-”
“How did he speak to you?” Wonwoo questions, irritation clear in his tone.
“I can’t explain it,” you sigh. “It almost felt… It almost felt like he was flirting with me- and maybe, maybe I gave him the wrong idea, I don’t know- it was weird.”
“Maybe you gave him the wrong idea,” Seungcheol repeats your words back to you. “Have you been flirting with the priest, princess?”
“I don’t think so-”
“You don’t think so,” Seungcheol scoffs. “Sounds like we all need to go have a talk with this fucking priest.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Jeonghan says, jumping to his feet and drawing all eyes. “I mean- come on, he’s a man of God, right? He probably wasn’t flirting with her-”
“Why so jumpy, Hannie?” Seungcheol turns to his friend, looking him up and down. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then you’ll have no problems if we go have a chat with him. All of us. Right now.” It’s clear that this isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order.
Seungcheol heads to the door, holding it open and looking at your group expectantly. Mingyu’s the first to sigh and head out. Jeonghan is next, and you can’t help but notice the slight skip to his step, as if he’s excited about what’s to come.
Wonwoo grabs your forearm, dragging you past Cheol. “Going to the chapel alone wasn’t a good idea,” he tells you. 
“I know,” you frown. “I knew that while I was there. I’m sorry.”
Seungcheol falls into step on your other side, his gaze forward, jaw set. 
“You know how I feel about that man,” Wonwoo continues. 
You nod. “You don’t trust him.”
“Can you even imagine how any of us would react if something happened to you?” Wonwoo asks, his grip tightening on your forearm.
“Joshua is a priest,” you insist. “He wouldn’t do anything-”
“He’s more capable than you give him credit for. All survivors are,” Wonwoo states harshly. “We’re still alive for a reason. Some of us had to do bad things to get where we are now, and I wouldn’t be shocked if your priest has made choices that even his own God wouldn’t like.”
You can’t respond, because you know what Wonwoo’s saying is true.
In fact, if anyone on the base is able to spot a predator, it’s probably the man holding your arm. He’s a sniper, and it’s his job to see threats and dispose of them before they become a problem. 
The five of you are silent as you make your way through the prison, heading outside to walk the short distance to the chapel. When you get there, Jeonghan pushes the door open. He’s been here so many times that he has no problem entering the sacred space, but the rest of you are a little more hesitant.
Mingyu heads inside, leaving you on the doorstep with Seungcheol and Wonwoo.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Wonwoo states.
“You’ve never doubted me before, don’t start now,” Seungcheol grins. “A talk with this priest has been long overdue, don’t you think?”
“She doesn’t have to be here for this,” the sniper looks down at you.
“Of course she has to be here for this,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I know you don’t like Joshua, but you have to trust me on this.”
Wonwoo takes a deep breath, watching Seungcheol enter the chapel. When it’s just the two of you still outside, Wonwoo cups your cheek. “Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you. How any of us feel about you.”
“What do you think is about to happen?” you ask, confused at the ominous tone that’s been set.
Your sniper simply stares at you for a few moments, then he looks down, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “With Seungcheol in charge, you never know.”
Wonwoo kisses you then, and he’s surprisingly gentle. You kiss him back, leaning against his strong chest- the door to the chapel opens and Mingyu pokes his head out, “Are you two coming, or what?”
With a sigh, you enter the church. Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua are standing by the podium in the front. They’re speaking too quietly for you to hear what they’re saying, but they all look up when you enter.
Joshua’s the first to smile. “Seungcheol has told me that you’re here for a real confession this time.”
“Hmm?” Your gaze shifts to the unit leader, and he grins.
“Go on, princess,” Seungcheol encourages. “The confession booth is all yours. We’ll be right here, for moral support.”
Wonwoo lets out an annoyed sound, but he doesn’t stop you as you stumble to follow through with Seungcheol’s command. You make your way to the confession booth, hand shaking as you pull away the long velvet curtain to step inside.
Your heart is racing wildly in your chest, but you try to be patient as you wait for the priest to enter his own side. 
When you hear Joshua sit down, you do your best to remember how this starts. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… an hour since my last confession.”
There’s a distinctly Jeonghan-like snicker from outside the booth, and it sets your stomach into knots. 
You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress.
“When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.” 
“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.
“In my experience, the truth is what’s important,” Joshua muses smoothly.
“I think… I think I’m here right now because I told Seungcheol about coming to you earlier. There was something- something I couldn’t quite explain about the interaction.”
“Go on.”
“It almost…” you swallow thickly. “It almost felt like you were flirting with me, Father.”
“Greed and lust are most definitely your sins,” Joshua notes. “Would you have liked it if I was flirting with you?”
Someone whispers ‘what the fuck’ from outside the confessional, and you’re pretty sure it was Wonwoo. He’s voicing your own thoughts, and you scramble for a response.
“I don’t… I don’t know,” you admit. 
“I’d like to tell you something, and I think you should consider it when looking at your sinful actions. Perhaps you can think of it as a way to release yourself from any shame you feel.” Joshua’s tone is soothing, and you hang onto what he’s about to say next. “While many men of my religion believe that God created the world and all its creatures in a matter of days, I think a lot can be learned from a Darwinian approach to life. Our closest ancestors are primates. They live in a warzone. Nothing is guaranteed but death. I’d be tempted to confess that their psychology isn’t that different from our own these days. Survivors of an apocalypse become no better than our primitive ancestors, and our behaviours are reflective of that. When certain species of female primates ovulate, and head out in search of a partner, do you know what they do?”
“Erm… no, Father.”
“The female bonobo primate will mate with as many fit males as possible. There are a number of reasons for this, but the primary one seems to be the need for protection. Not only for herself, but for future offspring. A male bonobo is less likely to throw out a baby if there’s a chance it could be his own. I would guess you’re using a contraceptive, but the psychology of a female in need of a band of male protectors in desperate times still applies. It’s animal nature, and the world we live in now has turned us all into animals. Instincts take precedence over logic. You might be greedy and lustful, but I would argue that you’ve needed to be in order to secure your survival.” 
“I…” you clear your throat, mind spinning at what he’s just suggested so eloquently. “I can’t believe you’re comparing us all to primates.”
“And how do you know so much about monkeys?” Mingyu asks loudly from outside the confessional, earning a chorus of snickers.
“If you won’t accept this comparison as… a justification of your greedy and lustful ways, then how about you try to explain it yourself?” Joshua suggests, ignoring everyone but you.
“I think… maybe I just like to be fucked,” you admit. “I think we all come at this from different backgrounds, with different motives for what we do.”
Joshua lets out an understanding sigh. “And what are your friend’s motives?”
“Mingyu likes companionship. He’s like me. He needs reassurance, needs physical touch. Jeonghan likes the fun of it all. He likes enjoying himself, likes to indulge. Wonwoo… I think it started as something just physical for him. A way to distract himself from the pressure he has on his shoulders. And Seungcheol likes to dominate. He likes to feel as if he’s won at something. I’m guessing he sees this whole thing as a punishment.”
“A punishment?” Joshua enquires. “For you?”
“For me mostly,” you nod. “He likes to humiliate me in certain ways, and I think this might be one of them. He also likes to challenge God, he’s not a believer, so I’m guessing he’s enjoying this because we’re bringing sin into a place of worship. He’s in control right now. Not you, not me, not even Wonwoo-”
“Is Wonwoo also receiving this punishment?” the priest asks.
“Of course he is. Wonwoo doesn’t like you, that’s no secret, Father.”
“What did the two of you do to deserve such a punishment?”
“I admitted that I probably flirted with you a little,” you say quietly, your skin heating at the admission. “And Wonwoo’s been taking more of my time recently, been talking back to Seungcheol in ways that Seungcheol hasn’t liked.”
“It’s quite the dynamic you’ve found yourself a part of,” Joshua muses. “An entanglement of wants, needs… indulgences. If you have such a good understanding of Seungcheol, how do you think this whole thing will play out for you?”
“I think he’d like for me to confess in deeper detail, confess my personal sins instead of talking about the others so much. I think he’d like for me to feel dirty, and when this confession is over, I’m guessing he’ll prove how dirty I am, here in this church, for all your eyes and God to see.”
“How would you feel about that?” Joshua asks.
“Humiliated… excited…” you consider the emotions running through you. “I’d feel like I’d done something to deserve it, which I have.”
“A simple thing like flirting doesn’t constitute a punishment of this magnitude. What other sins have you partaken in? If you know Seungcheol wants details, you should give us all details.”
You take a deep breath. “I’ve done practically everything a lustful greedy sinner could do to deserve this. I’ve had more orgies than I can count. I’ve had three men inside of me at once. I’ve been filled with cum over and over and over again. I’ve been insatiable, always greedy and ready to take more. I’ve been fucked to the point of passing out, only to awaken and go another round. I’ve reveled in the fact that I have four men who like watching me get fucked, who touch themselves to the view of their friends fucking me to the point where I can’t talk or walk. I’ve become a fuck toy instead of doing actual survivor work in the prison, giving into my own greedy desires instead of the good of others. I’ve had sex in all sorts of places that I never thought I’d have sex in-”
“Like this church,” Joshua interrupts you. “You’ve desecrated it before.”
“I-” your heart thunders in your chest. 
“Admit it,” the priest insists.
“Father, I-”
“You’ve been a very, very bad girl.” 
You hate that you’re getting wet from this. There’s a feeling of relief that’s come from confessing your lustful ways, and now Joshua’s deeper tone is setting you on edge. He’s degrading you, like Cheol does, but it feels more extreme coming from a man of God- from a priest who clearly knows you’ve been fucked in his place of worship.
“What’s the correct penance for a naughty whore like her?” Seungcheol’s voice makes your skin tingle. He opens the confessional fabric screen, staring down at you. His thumbs are hooked in his belt, and the way the light hits him from behind makes him look shockingly angelic and demonic at the same time. It illuminates his broad shoulders, the soft curls of his hair- but his face is shadowed.
“Sir-” you whisper, cowering against the back of the booth.
“It’s clear that she’s insatiable,” Joshua responds smoothly, shifting on his side of the confessional. “I’d say you’re within your right to do anything you want to her. As long as I’m here, the dirty ways you choose to defile her will be penance, a Godly act.”
“A Godly act,” Seungcheol grins, turning to look over his shoulder at the others. “I don’t know why you’re so offput by this priest, Wonwoo, he makes all the sense in the world to me.” The unit leader’s eyes find you again. “Now, what to do with our naughty little whore of a princess.”
“I think you know what we’re going to do to her,” Jeonghan says sinisterly from outside the booth.
“Yes, but in what order… decisions, decisions.” Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. “I think I’ll have you first, pretty girl. I was the first one to have you in the beginning, it’s only fair that I have you first now.”
You can’t help yourself, you drop to your knees, shuffling forward. Seungcheol’s grin widens, and he looks down at you while you begin to undo his belt. 
“Good girl,” he muses, threading his fingers through your hair as you pull down his pants. He’s already hard, his cock springing up toward your face. You can feel yourself beginning to drool, and you grab his base, guiding him to your mouth. 
Seungcheol releases a low groan as you begin to blow him in the confessional. You don’t hold anything back. You sink down on him as much as you can, suctioning your lips around him and swirling your tongue. Even so, it’s not enough for Seungcheol. His grip tightens in your hair, holding you still so he can begin to fuck your face.
You moan around his cock, relaxing your throat so he can go as deep as he wants- and Seungcheol always likes to test your limits.
Your hands find his strong thighs, looking for something to anchor yourself while he uses you for his own pleasure. 
“Letting me fuck your face in a confessional, this is a new low, even for you, princess,” Seungcheol laughs, pulling you off his cock. “Open.”
You part your lips, sticking out your tongue. Seungcheol spits into your mouth.
“Now swallow,” he instructs, smirking as you follow through with the command. “Who do you belong to?”
“I belong to you, Sir,” you whimper.
“Keep that in mind tonight,” he warns, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He squeezes you roughly, and then pulls you to your feet. Seungcheol thrusts you out of the confessional, holding you against his chest while your eyes take in the men all crowded outside. “Who do you want after I’m done with you?”
You can’t help but shift your gaze to Wonwoo, not because you want him to be next in line, but because you’re worried about how this is affecting him. He’d been more riled up than you’ve ever seen him before when you’d entered the chapel, and now that it’s clear Joshua will be joining this orgy, you wonder how he’s feeling.
Seungcheol follows your eyes. “Wonwoo goes last,” the unit leader announces.
“The priest goes last,” Wonwoo retorts, the words coming out in something near a growl.
“Now I see what she meant about him talking back,” Joshua muses as he steps out of his side of the booth. “Is that any way to speak to your superior?”
Wonwoo clenches his jaw tightly. If looks could kill, the priest would be dead, but it simply makes the man standing next to you laugh. The sound causes an ache in the pit of your stomach.
Jealousy has never been a part of this dynamic- that’s what makes this whole thing work. You worry about the implications this night will have on the rest of your time in the prison, worry about your safety going forward.
“Okay, princess,” Seungcheol brings his lips to your ear, his hands sneaking down the front of your dress and gripping the fabric, “I’m done waiting.”
In one quick motion, he reaches under your skirt, grabbing your panties and tearing them off. Then he pushes you forward, bending you at a ninety degree angle while he brings his cock to your soaked core. 
“I knew you’d be wet from this,” Seungcheol laughs, rubbing his tip through your pussy lips. “You know, priest, she wasn’t lying when she said she revels in the act of being watched. She goes fucking crazy for it. Let me show you just how crazy she gets.”
Seungcheol sinks his cock into your tight hole and you moan desperately, trying your best to hold yourself up in this position with your fingertips to the floor. The unit leader’s hands are on your hips, and he begins to rut into you roughly, forcing squeaks and moans of pleasure to slip out of you.
“Tell us how much you love this,” Seungcheol prompts.
“Fuck, I love it so much- oh my god-”
“Bet you’d love it more if you had something to suck on.”
Jeonghan and Mingyu both step forward immediately, and you feel Seungcheol’s hand leave your hips as he points at the elder of the two. “You.”
“Thank God,” Jeonghan grins, already working on his belt. “It’s been too long since I fucked your face in this church, kitten.”
“Put your hands behind your back,” Seungcheol instructs.
“I can’t-” you’re hardly stable and standing as it is, bent over like this.
“Give me one wrist,” the leader insists, grabbing it as soon as you’ve presented it to him. “And now the other.” With both your hands caught in a bruising grip, Seungcheol helps stabilize you, holding you up from behind. Your muscles are already beginning to ache, but when Jeonghan slips his cock into your mouth, you nearly forget about the burn.
“Fuck, this is so hot,” Jeonghan groans, thrusting gently in comparison to the man fucking your pussy. 
“She likes it too, gets all tight and wet whenever you hit the back of her throat,” Seungcheol laughs. “She loves being used like this.”
You can only moan like a whore around Jeonghan, an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. 
“Gyu’s already touching himself, princess,” the unit leader tells you. “You love it when he gets needy and can’t wait.”
You do, you love it more than you can ever put into words-
“Tell her how good she looks like this,” Seungcheol demands.
“You look so fucking good,” Mingyu groans. “Our perfect little baby-”
“Your perfect little whore,” the priest laughs. 
“Mingyu’s too soft on her,” Seungcheol says with a grunt, fucking you so hard that your legs begin to shake. “He always has been, and he always will be.”
Great, now Seungcheol’s degrading Mingyu too. He’s not usually like this. You’re not sure why he’s in such a mood today- or why he has such good compatibility with Joshua.
“Enough talk, fuck,” Jeonghan groans. “If you’re not going to cum in her soon, I will.”
“You know I only cum when she begs,” Seungcheol retorts.
Jeonghan is quick to pull you off his cock, fisting your hair while tendrils of spit keep you tied to his throbbing tip. 
“Fuck, please, sir- I can hardly stand- please, I need your cum-”
Seungcheol laughs darkly. “You can do better than that.”
“Sir, I’ll die without it. I need it- I need it deep inside, please, I want you dripping out of me for days-”
His speed increases as you babble pathetically, and you can feel your core tightening around him. 
“I’m gonna cum- fuck, Sir, please, please cum with me, please- please let me cum-”
“Cum on my cock, dirty girl, show everyone how much you love getting fucked like this.”
As your orgasm slams into you, so does Jeonghan’s cock. He fills your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure while Seungcheol fills your pussy. Your entire body is thrumming with hot energy, alight with the ecstasy that your lovers always provide.
You can feel your wet walls milking Seungcheol’s cock, and his low groans only make your pussy throb harder, your orgasm lasting so long that it almost hurts.
It’s hard to breathe with Jeonghan fucking your face, but the lack of oxygen only adds to the copious stimulus, and you can already feel yourself beginning to cry a little from how good it all is.
The moment Seungcheol’s finished, Jeonghan is tearing himself away from your mouth. “My turn, my turn-” he insists, tugging you off of Seungcheol only to flip you around with your back to his chest. He bends you over in the same manner that his superior did, sliding his cock into your cum filled hole. “Fuck-”
“Hannie-” you whimper, legs still shaky.
“I know, I know,” he coos at you. “I’ll give you what you want.”
His hand wraps around your body, fingers finding your aching clit. You’d cum from penetration alone with Seungcheol, and your sensitive bud had been throbbing at the missed action- now, each rub of Jeonghan’s digits has you crying out.
“Need you to cum again,” Jeonghan tells you. “You can do that for me, right? Cum on my cock just like you did for Cheol- you’re a good girl, aren’t you, kitten?”
“I’m good,” you insist, on the verge of tears again.
Suddenly, hands are cupping your face, and you open your eyes to see Mingyu on his knees in front of you. He wipes your tears away with his thumb, pressing his lips to yours. “Wanna see you cum, baby,” he murmurs.
There’s nothing like a gentle touch after the number Cheol just did on you, and something about Mingyu’s words tip you over the edge. You gasp against his lips, pussy clamping down on Jeonghan like a vice while he groans loudly.
You feel him spilling deep inside of you, pressing his hips flush to your ass while your walls contract around his cock. “Fucking hell-” Jeonghan grunts, thrusting shallowly while orgasms surge through you both.
Mingyu kisses you deeper, his large hand finding the back of your neck, stroking you while his tongue invades your mouth. You get lost in the kiss while your orgasm subsides, and when Jeonghan pulls out of you, you crumple down onto your knees.
“Come here,” Mingyu says softly, collecting you into his lap while he sits against the wood floor. There’s no cushioning tonight, no jacket placed down to make things easy on you. Your knees hurt as they dig against the hardwood, but part of you thinks you deserve the pain while you wriggle against Mingyu, immediately grinding on his hard cock while cum begins to drip out of you.
Mingyu grabs your dress, tearing it off your body to reveal your naked form to the house of God. Your hand finds his cock, pumping him desperately-
“Two loads are never enough,” Seungcheol muses, but his words feel distant while you kiss Mingyu. “Look at her, stroking him off- I bet she can’t even last a minute before taking him next.”
He’s right. You hate that he’s right. 
Although, in this instance, you don’t want to fuck Mingyu only for yourself, you want to fuck him for him too. He’s clearly as needy as you are tonight, moaning sinfully when you kiss down his throat, finding his sweet spot and sucking it.
“Can you take me, baby?” he asks. “It’s okay if you can’t-”
God, you love him. 
He doesn’t realize that you have something to prove. Doesn’t realize that tonight, failure is not an option.
You lift yourself up enough to bring his tip to your core, and then you sink down on every glorious inch he has to offer. 
Mingyu practically whimpers into the kiss, and the sound of it releases something feral inside of you. Suddenly you don’t care about your knees getting bruised on the floor, you simply want to fuck this man like you’ve never fucked him before.
Your hands find his shoulders, and you push him onto the ground. Your hips begin to move and you tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him desperately while you ride him. His cock is so big- so long and hard, that it gives you a lot to work with. There’s no fear of it slipping out, no fear of losing him- he’s yours, completely. 
Mingyu is groaning into the kiss, his hands skimming down your back and grabbing your ass, helping you with each thrust.
“Holy shit,” Jeonghan breathes. “I didn’t know she could ride like that.”
“That’s cuz you like to fuck her face,” Seungcheol retorts.
“Still,” Jeonghan insists, “look at our little superstar go.”
Their words make you more confident, and you push yourself up using Mingyu’s shoulders as leverage. You throw your head back, moaning loudly in the sanctity of the church. You’re aware that you’re giving every man watching a full view of you now, your breasts bouncing, hips rutting wildly as you claw at Mingyu’s chest-
You open your eyes. Seungcheol’s sitting on a pew, his boots up on the bench in front of him, where Joshua is perched. Wonwoo’s leaning against the confessional, arms crossed over his chest. Jeonghan is simply sitting on the floor a few feet away. They’re all watching you intently.
“Gyu,” Seungcheol says suddenly, taking off his dog tag and throwing it at the two of you, “put this around her neck.”
“What?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, a large, muscled arm reaching out across the church floor to grab the chain.
“In case our little whore loses track of who’s already filled her up,” Seungcheol explains, although, you’re pretty sure that won’t be a problem. 
No, as Seungcheol’s dogtag is placed around your neck, followed quickly by Jeonghan’s, you think this must be another way of your men to claim you as theirs.
Joshua doesn’t have a dog tag, his mark won’t be around your neck like a collar showing off who you belong to.
As you ride Mingyu, the dogtags bounce against your breasts, the metal clinking softly together. The material is cool against your hot skin, and you hate that you enjoy it like this.
Mingyu sits up abruptly, burying his face in your tits. His mouth wraps around your nipple and you claw at his hair, throwing your head back and moaning. “Fuck, puppy-”
You hardly ever call him by that petname, but it feels fitting like this. Mingyu groans, palming your other breast with his hand, and it’s a confirmation that he enjoys the term. 
“You’re so deep-” you continue, knowing he also loves praise. “You fill me up so good-”
Mingyu’s arms wrap around the small of your back, and then he’s rolling the two of you so he’s in the top position. He adjusts your thighs, pressing one up against your chest as he begins to fuck into you hard and deep, hitting spots that have you clawing at the floor.
Part of you wants to leave a mark on the wooden planks outside the confessional, a constant reminder to Joshua that you’ve desecrated this holy place. That he’s allowed you to do so, that he’s even sanctioned it. 
Mingyu’s lips find your throat, and a shiver runs through you. One hand threads through his hair, massaging his scalp while he fucks his friends’ cum deep into your core. Your other hand lifts from the floor, sneaking between your bodies to find your clit.
Your pussy clenches at the touch, and Mingyu groans lewdly, fucking you even harder.
“I’m close, puppy,” you tell him, panting in his ear. “I’m so fucking close-”
“Me too,” he whimpers, sucking on your ear. “Me too, baby, fuck- you feel so good-”
“You feel good too,” you assure him, applying more pressure to your clit. “So, so good, Gyu-”
“Shit, I can’t-”
“Cum for me, puppy, please, just cum for me-” you beg, drawing his lips to yours as he groans loudly, shooting his load into your pussy.
His thrusts are rough and erratic, and he triggers your own orgasm, making you gasp into the kiss. The two of you are panting, tongue tied and animalistic as you work through your shared high. 
You claw at his back- it’s as though you need him closer, you want to devour him even though he’s as physically close to you as he ever possibly could be.
Mingyu’s large form shudders as his orgasm subsides, and you know he’s on the verge of overstimulation. He’d kept fucking you for your sake, not his own, and you kiss him lovingly at the thought. 
The two of you have a close bond. You take care of eachother, and you always will. 
Mingyu finally breaks the kiss, looking down at you while he catches his breath. “I-” he swallows thickly. There’s a deep emotion brewing behind his chocolate brown eyes, and you wonder if he’ll voice it for the first time, in front of everyone else. “Wonwoo hyung probably wants you now.”
Your adoring puppy boy pulls out of you, and you whimper at the loss. He sits back on his heels, looking down at you, then he takes off his dog tag, gently placing it around your neck to join the others.
You turn to look at Wonwoo, and he smiles at you softly from where he’s leaning on the confessional. “Hey, beautiful, can you walk?”
You nod, allowing Mingyu to help you up onto shaky legs. You’re aware of the cum beginning to drip down your thighs with each step you take, but you can’t bring yourself to care. When you finally make it to Wonwoo, you throw your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he hugs you, twirling you around so you’re now the one pressed up against the confession booth.
His lips meet yours. It’s not a hungry kiss, not at first. It’s a kiss that speaks a thousand words, and yet, none at all. It’s a kiss that reassures you that everything he said at the door before you entered the church was true. 
‘Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you.’
When you’d started all of this six months ago, the last person you expected to have a true soft spot for was Wonwoo. He’s not a huge talker, but when he does speak, he’s sincere. It’s one of your favourite things about him- well, that, and the way that his arms have started to feel like the first home you’ve experienced since the outbreak.
His hand cups the back of your head, and the kiss deepens. You press your bare chest against his own, moaning at the contact. Wonwoo grins, nibbling at your bottom lip while his fingers begin to trail down your body.
He’s soft as he circles your clit, and it leaves you wanting more, rutting your hips against him. It’s all too easy for Wonwoo to slip his fingers into your dripping pussy, and the squelching sound your core makes has your skin heating with embarrassment. But Wonwoo clearly doesn’t care about the noise as he begins to pump his hand, curling his digits to reach your gspot.
You grab his shoulders, legs already feeling shaky. You’re moaning too much now for him to kiss you properly, so his lips find your throat.
Whimpers and wet sounds fill the church, and as Wonwoo’s pace increases, you realize what his intention is. The sniper has always had skilled fingers, and it’s not uncommon for him to make you squirt- you can already feel your pussy beginning to drench his hand, but you’re not sure if it’s your cum or someone elses.
All you know is that it feels amazing. The pressure in your stomach is like hot ecstasy, and each rough pump of his fingers has your body tingling with pleasure. 
“Fuck, Wonwoo-” you moan, words caught as he palms your clit. Your eyes clench shut, you feel more liquid squirting out of you, can feel the impact of it hitting the floor, sending droplets that skirt by your toes-
“That’s going to be a bitch to clean up, Shua,” Jeonghan notes with a snicker.
You can feel your lover grinning by your throat- maybe this was his intention all along. 
“Wonwoo-” you whimper, shocked at the amount of squirt that’s left your body. “Too much-”
The sniper doesn’t hesitate when he hears this, he simply pulls his fingers from your core, presenting them to your lips as he pushes his pants down with his free hand.
You suck greedily on his fingers, tasting the mix of cum you find there. 
Wonwoo pulls his hand away too quickly, reaching down to grab your thighs and lift you off the ground. He pushes you against the confession both, pressing his cock into your hole while his lips attack yours again.
God, it feels good not to be standing. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, and now, you can focus on the cock filling you up. You just get to relax against the soft wooden booth and take what Wonwoo is giving you.
The kiss is a hungry one, his tongue battling yours as he finds a quick pace. You’ve been fucked by three other men already, but it still feels so good to have Wonwoo inside of you like this. 
You tangle your fingers in his soft curls, moaning desperately while he rails you against the confession booth. Your mind goes pleasantly blank. With Wonwoo, no words have to be said, you can feel what he’s expressing, can feel how much he cares for you. 
The angle he’s holding you in has his cock hitting deep, teasing that special spot that has your toes curling. Each smack of his hips against your own has your clit being teased, a consistent pressure that’s quickly tightening the knot in your abdomen again.
“Wonwoo-” you whimper.
“You’re close?” he asks, sounding a little shocked as he breaks the kiss to look at you.
“Sensitive,” you remind him, pouting out your lower lip as you cup his cheek. “You feel so good.”
He releases a groan, kissing you again. 
Wonwoo’s not Cheol. He doesn’t make you beg for an orgasm. He’ll simply give it to you- kiss you stupid while his body does the work of getting you to cloud nine. 
You allow the orgasm to build naturally. There’s no demanding that it comes, no countdowns or ‘cum with me’s- Wonwoo cumming with you is a given. He has selfcontrol, and he holds out till the moment your pussy clamps down on his cock.
The two of you groan into each other’s mouths, Wonwoo’s fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he fucks you through it. You cling to him desperately while he eats up all your sounds of pleasure. 
For a moment, you’re not some free-use whore being tossed around a group of men in a church- it’s just you and Wonwoo.
You get lost in him, your orgasm feeling endless- but all good things must end, and soon, Wonwoo’s motions stop. His cock stays buried inside of you, his body pressing your own against the confessional while you both breathe heavily between kisses.
Finally, Wonwoo pulls away. He stares at you for a moment, more unspoken communication making your heart swell. He sets you onto your feet gently, helping you stand with one hand while he does up his pants.
Then he takes off his dog tag, leaning in close as he puts it around your neck. “I hate this,” he whispers, and you can’t be sure that he’s only talking about the act of owning you with the chain on your throat.
Wonwoo moves away, and you open your mouth to say more- but you’re cut off by someone clearing their throat. Your gaze shifts to Seungcheol, who stands from the pew he was sitting at. “One more to go, princess.”
Joshua grins, stepping forward. “How should we do this?”
It takes a moment for you to realize he’s not asking you. Seungcheol lets up a deep breath. “Honestly, knowing my insatiable princess, I’d say she could take both of us. You can fuck her ass, priest, but her pussy belongs to us.”
You hate the tingle of excitement that runs through you, your eyes dipping to the front of Seungcheol’s pants, where he’s already growing hard again. 
“You’re the boss,” Joshua muses, watching the unit leader step toward you.
Seungcheol takes you into his arms, one hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. “You’ve been so good for us,” he says softly. “Gonna keep being good, right?”
“Yes, sir,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can bring him in for a kiss.
The touch of your lips is short-lived. Seungcheol gets down onto the ground, lying flat while he helps you on top of him. “I’ll fuck this pretty pussy,” he announces, undoing his belt for the second time tonight, “and you can lube up Joshua with a taste of your mouth.”
“Okay, sir,” you whimper, looking down between your bodies to watch him pull out his cock. The moment it’s free, he lines it up with your core, his warm hands finding your hips to help you sink onto him.
You both let out moans of pleasure, your eyes closing as you begin to bob up and down slowly. 
The sound of another belt being undone draws your gaze to Joshua, who’s come to stand next to you and Cheol. “Open wide,” he tells you, grabbing the base of his cock and pumping.
You look up at the priest, doing as you’re told. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he slowly pushes his cock past your lips. He doesn’t go in all the way, only giving you half, and waiting expectantly for you to begin sucking him off.
As you hollow your cheeks, digging your nails into Seungcheol’s chest for leverage, the unit leader begins rutting up into you. You can’t help but moan around Joshua’s cock, and you watch as he lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing the back of your head so he can hold you still. He begins to fuck your face, and once again, you’re just a fuck toy caught between two alpha males.
You know what comes next, know that Joshua will be in your ass soon, so you do your best to lube him up with your spit. It’s clear that your wet mouth is driving the priest into a frenzy, his cock hitting the back of your throat now with each thrust.
You’re doing your best not to gag, your eyes welling with tears that you blink away as you gaze up at the priest. 
“She’s so pretty when she cries,” Joshua muses, wiping away one of the tears with his thumb.
“Our little princess is always pretty,” Seungcheol insists with a grunt, forcing you to take his cock fully, keeping you pinned on his hips. “Are you going to fuck her ass or not?”
Joshua pulls himself from your mouth, clearly amused by the lines of drool that still connect him to you. “Be good for us,” Joshua says sweetly.
Seungcheol tugs you to his chest, his hands moving to your ass where he spreads your cheeks for the man who sinks to his knees behind you. 
You feel Joshua’s tip rub against your hole, and you do your best to breathe normally, relaxing your body so you can take him as he slowly pushes inside.
There’s nothing in the world like being full- with cum, with cock, with everything-
“This is too hot,” Jeonghan’s voice makes you look up. “Wanna suck me off too, kitten? If you don’t, I might bust all over myself from this view alone.”
At this point, your mind is fuzzy, and you can’t help but nod, sitting up and opening your mouth for Jeonghan.
“There’s our good kitten,” he grins, immediately whipping out his dick and slotting it past your lips. “Fuck, so fucking good for us. I know you love it when you get three cocks at once. Our little kitten with her kink for being completely full-”
At this point, there are no thoughts swirling around in your head, only the feeling of three men filling you up to their heart’s desire. Seungcheol and Joshua find a push-pull motion that has tension building in your abdomen much too easily. Jeonghan, meanwhile, is fucking you slowly, taking his time and releasing groans as you suck him off.
The tip of Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat, and your body convulses, making both Joshua and Seungcheol moan loudly. Their fingers dig into your skin, you can feel hot breath against your chest and shoulders.
“You know,” Seungcheol groans, “A priest really shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Not so willingly, at least,” Jeonghan adds.
“Well,” Joshua sighs loudly, “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you all that I’m not actually a priest.”
“What?” Jeonghan and Seungcheol stop thrusting, and you sputter as Jeonghan’s cock slips from your lips, taking haggard breaths.
“It’s not like any of you asked for a resume when I showed up here,” Joshua jokes.
“That’s because you were dressed as a fucking priest?!” Seungcheol’s voice is raising now, his fingers digging into your ass while Joshua continues to fuck you nonchalantly.
“I’ve been quite convincing, wouldn’t you say?” You’d bet your life that the ‘priest’ is wearing a shit-eating grin, but at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care.
“Sir,” you whimper, clawing at his chest.
Seungcheol swallows thickly. “We’re gonna make her cum, but you and I are going to have a talk about this later, priest.”
Jeonghan presents his cock to you again, and you take it into your mouth. You suck on him hard, wanting to get him as close to the edge as you are. In response, Jeonghan begins to fuck your face again, hitting the back of your throat so your body clenches around Joshua and Seungcheol.
“Fuck,” the unit leader moans, landing a slap across your ass that has your mind spinning. “Need you to cum for us,” he tells you. “Need you to be a good little cock whore and take what we give you.”
You moan loudly around Jeonghan, getting lost in the feeling of being so completely full that you can’t think straight.
Seungcheol lets go of your ass, bringing his thumb to your clit-
The first rough drag of his digit across the sensitive bud triggers your orgasm, and you practically scream around Jeonghan, entire body fizzling with electric energy.
“Fuck-” Jeonghan groans, giving one last thrust before he cums down your throat, holding your head so your nose touches his pelvis, not allowing you to go anywhere as you sputter and take what he gives you.
Seungcheol and Joshua let out moans of their own, and you can feel the heat of them cumming too, filling up both of your holes to a point that’s almost dizzying. 
Jeonghan pulls out of your mouth and you immediately slump down against Seungcheol’s chest, body shaking as you struggle to breathe. Joshua also retreats. You can feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks, too many emotions swirling around in your post orgasmic haze for you to even keep track of.
“Sit up for me, princess, let’s get a look at you,” Seungcheol insists, stroking your back.
With a deep breath, you slowly sit up, rubbing at your eyes.
Joshua comes to stand in front of you, an expression akin to concern on his face. “You’re forgiven for your sins,” he tells you.
Wonwoo scoffs loudly.
The priest reaches up, taking off his cross necklace. As he begins to hold it over your head, intent on adding his claim to the four that already hang around your throat, Wonwoo grabs his hand roughly. Then your sniper tears the cross from Joshua’s grasp, throwing it across the church. “Don’t even fucking try it,” Wonwoo growls. “She doesn’t belong to you. This was a one-time thing.”
“And you’re the one making decisions now?” Seungcheol glares, sitting up and pressing his palms flat to the floor behind himself to balance, his abs moving under pretty skin. 
“Kitten should choose,” Jeonghan agrees. “Like she did at the start.”
“Look at her,” Wonwoo insists, voice breaking. “We all fucked her brains out. She’s not making any big decisions right now. In fact-” Wonwoo reaches down and picks your dress off the ground, helping you put it on, “We’re taking her home. Gyu.”
Your largest lover encircles his arms around you, lifting you up and off Cheol without a question asked. You tuck in close to his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying the bridal style of the carry. 
“Clearly this wasn’t punishment enough for your subordinate who likes to talk back,” Joshua muses, speaking to Cheol while he watches you, Wonwoo and Mingyu head toward the church doors.
Wonwoo’s fist clenches at his side, Mingyu looks back, but no one says anything else. You pass out in Mingyu’s arms while they carry you back to the Z1 dorm. Mingyu lays you on a bed softly, immediately cuddling up to your side. He begins to stroke your hair and you open your eyes when you feel a warm cloth cleaning your inner thighs.
“Hey, beautiful,” Wonwoo looks up at you. “How are you feeling.”
“Okay,” you murmur.
Wonwoo frowns, exchanging a look with Mingyu. 
“Did i say something wrong?” you ask.
“No, it’s just…” Wonwoo swallows thickly, “usually you say ‘good’ or ‘great’ or ‘amazing.’”
“Oh. sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to us.” Wonwoo finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, and he tosses the cloth on the floor, getting onto the bed with you. You curl up against his chest, and Mingyu presses to your back, his soft fingers caressing you. “We shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Wonwoo insists. “But we shouldn’t talk about this right now. You need rest.”
The mention of sleeping makes you yawn, and you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth that your protectors provide. “Goodnight.”
Mingyu presses a kiss to your shoulder as you begin to drift off. “Goodnight, baby.”
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Epilogue
It’s been a week since the orgy in the church, and you’ve spent every night since then cuddled between Wonwoo and Mingyu, thinking heavily about yourself and the relationship you have with the men in your life.
You wake up on the seventh day with your mind set. Wonwoo’s already awake, sitting silently and staring at the wall while acting as your pillow. He looks down at you when you stir, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Hi, handsome,” you retort, loving the way his new petname tastes on your lips. “Can I… can I be vulnerable with you for a moment?”
“Always,” he assures you, nudging Mingyu to wake him up.
The man behind you groans, but presses kisses to your shoulder nonetheless. “What’s happening?”
“Baby has something to tell us,” Wonwoo says softly.
“Okay, baby.” Mingyu speckles more kisses along your skin, tucking closer to your back.
“I think… I think I need to end things with Jeonghan and Seungcheol.” You’re shocked at the resolve in your tone, but at the same time, the declaration feels right. 
“What?” Mingyu holds you tighter, kisses ceasing.
“When I entered this dynamic, I never thought I’d pick favourites,” you explain, “but I think it’s clear that I have. It’s clear to me now that you two care for me in a different way than they do- and… I’d rather focus on this, what we three have, then betray myself with them any longer.”
You’re proud of yourself for putting all your chaotic thoughts into such simple words, and you wait patiently for a response.
“I think that’s a good decision,” Wonwoo says finally, letting out a shaky breath. 
“I just feel like- I mean, I love Jeonghan, I love Seungcheol, but I’m not in love with them. Not in the way that I’m in love with you guys… and I think… I think you’re both in love with me too.”
Mingyu lets out a soft groan. “It’s been hard not to say it.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t,” you whisper, reaching to thread your fingers with his hand resting on your hip.
“It wasn’t you,” Mingyu reassures, “it was the way the five of us worked. It didn’t feel like there was room to say it.”
“Well you can say it now.”
“I love you,” Mingyu groans, squeezing your hand. “Fuck, I do. I do love you. A stupid amount.”
“I love you too,” you grin, light airy energy surging through your body. You find yourself looking up at Wonwoo. “Do you love me?”
“Is that even a question?” He lets out a small laugh, cupping your cheek. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”
“I wish we’d all said it earlier,” you admit. “I came into this living each day like it might be my last, but I neglected to do the one thing that’s most important- I didn’t tell either of you how I felt, and I promise I’m going to make up for it every day I have with the two of you.”
You’ll talk to Jeonghan and Seungcheol later. You can deal with whatever reactions they have, as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are by your side.
Seungcheol has always called you insatiable. He’s made you feel like a needy whore who couldn’t get enough- and yet, that final penance was more than enough. It made you realize that you are satiated- by love, not lust. 
You’ve paid your dues, your penance is complete, and now, even during an apocalypse, you can finally try to secure a life for yourself that you always wished for, with your two protectors. You can finally be happy, and fulfilled. 
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☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I really don't know how this happened, but uh.... I want them. If you liked this one, I've done this pairing before here
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🔮 preview. It’s practically perfect to have Mingyu worshiping between your thighs while Wonwoo is the anchor at your back, whispering soft nothings in your ear and massaging your breasts. This is what love is, and you’re so fucking happy you’ve found it.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, pussy eating, oral, deep throating, fingering, breast play/worship, overstim, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of old bdsm style ‘rules’/begging, soft boy lovers, dirty talk, praise, size kink, hand job, stroking wonwoo while mingyu rails you, multiple sex positions (sideways, doggy, etc…),   I petnames. (hers) beautiful, baby, etc… (mingyu’s) puppy. (wonwoo’s) handsome.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k I teaser wc. 250
🌙 staring. Mingyu & Wonwoo x afab!Reader
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bonus
You love the feeling of sun on your face. The warmth reminds you of your two lovers, who hang back, sitting on a barricade a hundred feet away. There are no supply runs today, so Mingyu and Wonwoo have taken to shadowing you at a respectful distance, giving you and Hansol your space to putter around the garden and tend to the growing food.
“You seem happier lately,” Hansol muses as he digs holes to plant beet seeds Wonwoo had found for you on his last trip to the city.
“I am,” you admit, gazing over at the two men who are chatting and laughing together. “It’s nice to be spending more time in the garden again.”
“And I see you’ve picked up your cafeteria tasks with Seokmin again,” Hansol points out. “I know he missed you for a few months.”
“Yeah, I had a lot going on at the time.”
You’ve never outwardly spoken with Hansol about your prior arrangement with Z1, but you can tell he’s noticed Seungcheol and Jeonghan not pulling you away anymore. Your closest survivor friends are too respectful to ask for details, but it’s been a few weeks since you’d ‘broken up’ with the elder Z1’s, and you think you’re finally ready to talk about it a little.
“My priorities weren’t straight,” you continue.
“But it looks like they are now,” Hansol says, straightening to look at the men on the barricade. “You all look a lot happier.”
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hunnidmilly · 1 month ago
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Hi baby! I loveee your writing! I saw you asked for ideas. Can you do inexperienced reader and Roman teaching her how to take the d?
nice & slow — r.r +millytober+
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parings: roman reigns x early 20s black!reader
kink: inexperienced kink. (?)
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warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, inexperienced ≠ virgin, crying, roman being gentle, pet names (18+ MDNI)
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“you ready, baby girl?”
your body shuddered under him. your hands clasped together above your head, making sure he had full view of your face— currently filled with fear.
you weren’t the most experienced with sex. with only two previous sexual partners ruining it for everyone. only fucking until they got theirs and leaving you empty handed. you thought, if this is what sex was? you wanted no parts. you wanted to feel good too, and when roman learned your wish, he made it his goal to show you.
you were in your early 20s and the man being near 40; he was so much more experienced than you knew. he’d fuck plenty of pussy before, had numerous adventures with them, even flew a few out for a good time with their homegirls.
but none met more to him right now than you.
“i—i’m nervous, ro.” you squeaked out in a small voice staring into his eyes, adorned with passion “i know it’ll feel good, but you’re just so b—“
“we’re gonna go real gentle, with you alright? you gotta stay with me. m’kay, baby girl?”
you nodded, as he rubbed his dick through your crying folds. the fat mushroomed tip rubbing against your clit. you jolt at the contact and let out a small moan. roman, by any chance wasn’t small—his long, thick, dick splitting your opening wide instantly. he grunted and continued to push; you clamped down onto him as tears prickled your eyes. luckily, he stops once he’s halfway inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.
he leaned down to kiss away your tears, “lift your legs around my waist, there you go…good girl. open up for me.”
he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp at each sudden movement. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing further into you. his tip inches away from bottoming out.
“look at you, baby. so fuckin’ pretty & perfect. you can take it, can’t you? my baby can take it.”
he whispered into your ear, before taking the lobe into his mouth. he began to slowly fuck into you. your pussy tightly clamping around his dick and leaking onto the bed sheets. roman could feel your pussy start to mold to his dick, almost like a blanket tightly wrapped around a body.
you let out a whine as you locked your legs around his lower back to signal him that you were ready for more. tears formed in your eyes for a different reason now.
“fuckk, ro—please, fuck me.” you whimpered out thrusting your hips to completely impale yourself onto his dick.
he let out a laugh before letting go of your hands and moving them under your ass to pull your lower body closer, “don’t hold your breath, hike your knees up a bit…push your hips towards mines.” he coached your every move, determined to make this everything you wanted.
his pace quicken, his dick pumping you full force causing your boobs to bounce. his eyes firmly planted on them, before taking one in his mouth.
he pressed his dick deeper inside you, as he felt himself twitch as you fluttered around him. your pussy was warm; it felt like heaven to be inside of. he was nearly losing his mind at the sight of your fucked out face looking at him with such satisfaction. the more he coached you through the experience, the more he wanted to see how far he could go.
you trusted him with your pleasure, a gift he’d treasure forever.
“ughn! right there, please don’t stop, roman! ohh god!” you moaned out into his ear, the sound of your toes popping sounding like firecrackers in the room
“you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. i love this pussy. i’m not stopping till you cum on it. my girl wanna cum? hm?”
unable to form another sentence, you just nodded turning your head into the pillow and feeding it your loud moans, as he roughly fucked. the bed began to hardly knock against the wall as his thrust becoming deeper and harder; the bed springs squeaking beneath you.
you slipped your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit harshly, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. your ear immediately going deaf at the force from it and your eyes rolling into your head. you squeezed his dick, causing him to growl and your loud cries to fill the room.
“let it out, sweetheart. you did so good, for me. bring your knees to your chest baby, atta girl.” you bring your legs firmly together raising them to your chest, “good girl…keep cummin’ for me, pretty girl. get it all out. that feel good?”
his hips snapped against your ass to chase his own orgasm. with a few more sharp thrust his cum shot out in thick pools into you.
“r—roman. i feel like im gonna p—“ you hiccuped as the sensation triggered you to squirt over his dick, bringing you to your 2nd orgasm of the night.
the sight was mesmerizing; his chest harshly heaving up and down, his head thrown back, and his dick plugging his cum into you making sure nothing spills out.
“you did so good, baby girl. c’mere.” he spread your legs apart leaning down to embrace you into a bear hug and rain kisses across your face
you slipped your tongue into his mouth, hoping you convey how grateful you are for him.
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softpascalito · 4 months ago
Text
I Healing Hands I Marcus Acacius I
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Summary: Acacius returns home with an injury—and you try to care for him. But his ideas of healing (and baths) are a little ... different. Especially when you finally have some time to yourselves.
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 2.3k Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Handjobs, Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bathing/Washing, Blood & Injury, Secret Relationship, Mention of Period-Typical Violence, Mention of Period-Typical Slavery, Not historically accurate
AO3 LINK // Masterlist
notes: i can't believe i wrote smut about romans. anyway, i can't wait to see the trailer, enjoy the porn <3
domus - a type of house dulcissima - sweetest anaticula - little duck (affectionate) subligaculum - a type of underwear (i had three years of latin so i absolutely know what i'm doing)
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The domus he lives in sits on the edge of Palatine hill, a small house that feels more welcoming to you than any palace could. The atrium is decorated with a variety of plants, the green colors peaking through the columns that line the sides of the open space. You’ve come to know the details of this place well, from the feel of the stones below your feet to the artistically created, coffered ceilings.
As you let your gaze wander over the sunlit atrium, you find yourself looking at the small statue that sits in the middle of a small fountain, both almost hidden by the plants around them. The water below reflects the merciless sun above and sends small reflections of light dancing across the open space. The form of Apollo stands still, frozen in a heroic movement with one arm raised and his head held high.
The god of music, of truth, and most importantly, of healing. You always think your presence in this house must please him, because since being here, you have felt more healing than you have known before.
You hear Acacius before you see him, his breath coming in a little shorter than you’d like. His footsteps sound through the atrium and you catch glimpses of him as he passes behind the columns on the other side. Even from a distance, the way he’s holding himself tells you he’s hurt, not to mention the dirt on him and his armor. The golden details usually shine in the sun—now they look almost ancient, covered in grime.
You sent a silent prayer to Apollo, your eyes briefly flying back to the statue. When you turn back towards Acacius, he has rounded the corner, making his way over to you, though much slower than he usually would. A small sigh leaves his lips as his eyes land on you and you can see his body deflate visibly.
“Acacius.”
You’re by his side in an instant, attempting to let him prop himself up on you, to use your body to support his. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own arms around him, a hand finding his hair and attempting to brush through it—only to find it matted with blood. He must feel you tense next to him, a sharp breath escaping you as your fingers feel over his scalp, trying to locate the wound.
“Not mine,” he mumbles under his breath. He pauses for a short moment. “I promised I would come back.”
“You always do and yet I dread the day you will break that promise,” you say, a sad smile playing around your lips. You pull back enough to look at him, taking in the small cuts on his face and the deep lines between his brows that you want to smooth out until he looks as peaceful as he does in his sleep.
He does not protest when you try to take some of his weight on you, silently wishing you could take his worries too, and lead him away from the atrium and towards the small bath that is off to the side. You maneuver him through the small archway that is framed by beige columns on either side and into the middle of the room, the scent of the bath salts filling your nostrils as soon as you take a deep breath.
Acacius lifts his right arm—and immediately screws his face up in pain. You send a stern glance his way. “Let me do that.”
You nudge his arm to the side just enough to reach the leather strings that hold his armor together, slowly working your way through them until you can easily slide the dark leather off him, shaking your head weakly when you see how caked with blood and dirt it is. When you’ve placed the armor on one of the stone benches that line the wall, you move on to his braces and his shoes—and finally, the undercloth, taking it off just as carefully and leaving him in just his underwear.
And then, you suddenly see the reason he’s holding himself the way he is.
A nasty cut marks his right side, just below the ribs. You swallow hard, reaching out and tracing the dried blood around it with a motion that comes naturally. You feel Acacius shift under your fingers, bringing his own hands towards yours and wrapping them around it. They fit perfectly, his grip strong despite his injury.
Your gaze is drawn back to his face by the movement and he smiles weakly. “It looks much worse than it is, dulcissima.”
He’s not wrong. He’s definitely had worse injuries, including the time he barely made it to the atrium, instead collapsing into your arms just behind the entrance to the domus. But, quite frankly, it doesn’t mean you don’t worry.
“It stopped bleeding halfway here,” Acacius adds, correctly interpreting your silence.
“Why didn’t you clean yourself at the baths? They would’ve tended to your wound.” You search his face as you speak.
“I wanted to be with you.”
You sigh disapprovingly at his response, though you can’t deny you like to have him close too, especially when he’s injured. Which, with him, feels like it’s every other day.
He leans down to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, mumbling. “It really does not hurt all that much anymore.” His arm sneaks back around you, though his hand is now wandering much lower than it did before.
You bite your lip, trying to give him another stern look but you can feel the way you begin to falter as he smoothes circles into the fabric of your tunic. “Acacius, your servants—”
“They are busy,” he assures you, dragging his lips over your cheek and towards your earlobe. “Besides, if any of them attempted to talk, I’d have their heads.”
You listen into the silence that follows, almost determined to catch a pair of feet approaching or a voice in the distance. But the only sounds that reach your ears are those of the small fountain in the atrium and Acacius’s breath against your skin.
“We won’t be disturbed,” he hums and you sigh in defeat, reaching down to undo his subligaculum, the soft fabric falling away to reveal the trail of dark hair that leads down towards his cock. You’re only mildly surprised to find him already half-hard.
“Let me clean you first at least,” you mutter, leading him further into the room and towards the small bath embedded in the tiled floor. You sit him down at the edge of it, letting him dangle his legs into the warm water. You reach for a cloth, wet it slightly and get to work. You start with his arms, watching as the dirt and blood starts to come off, revealing the tanned skin underneath.
You hear Acacius sigh above you and you feel his eyes on you, the soft gaze he looks at you with so different from the one he carries on the battlefield. His hands begin wandering again, dipping below the thin fabric of your tunic and you are just reaching down to wet the cloth again when he manhandles you into him, placing you comfortably on his lap.
You tense for a split moment before he catches your lips in a kiss—and then you hear yourself sigh as the protest inside you makes space for a fire that’s rapidly building in your lower abdomen. You can smell him, his sweat mixed with a hint of blood, you can feel the dirt rubbing off on you but you don’t care. You just want him.
His voice is a growl. “Merda, get out of that thing already.”
You obey, crawling off him and slipping the tunic off your body, carelessly letting it fall to the dirty floor. You see Acacius’s eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve like he’s seeing you for the first time rather than the hundreth.
“You are as beautiful as the gods, my dulcissima,” he mumbles, pulling you back onto his lap, one hand securely placed on your back to keep you from falling into the water behind you.
He’s careful not to lean on his bad side as he sneaks his free hand between your bodies, dragging it down ever so slowly until he reaches your mound, his index finger drawing a few circles around your bundle of nerves before moving on, a smile spreading over his lips when he finds wetness waiting for him between your legs.
You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inserts a finger without warning, the size of them always taking you slightly by surprise. His moves are shallow, never quite pulling his finger out completely but always keeping you on that delicious edge. When he adds a second one and starts curling them, he has you whimpering almost immediately.
“Marcus, please—”
“I thought I was Acacius to you. Just to make sure you do not—how did you put it—slip up,” he mumbles, a smirk on his face. The groan you intend to sound annoyed comes out much more desperate than you would like.
“You know we have to be careful—” you try to start, but with his fingers inside you, your brain simply does not work the way it usually does.
“One of these days, I’ll make you my wife,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice so low you can barely hear it. Without taking his eyes off yours, his thumb finds the spot that, combined with his words, almost drives you over the edge. “And you’ll live with me and we can make as many babies as you want.”
It catches you off-guard, but not in an unpleasant way. It’s just a fantasy, one that may very well be unattainable, but you like to let your mind drift there regardless. Judging by the twitch his cock gives against your skin, you’re clearly not the only one who does.
At that thought, you manage to hold off a bit longer and reach for him in return, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when your hand wraps around his attention-starved cock. His gaze flies down, to your bodies already so intertwined, touching each other impatiently. And you know he craves it as much as you do—to be even closer, to feel the weight of him nestled inside of you.
“You are so dirty,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand and making you whine at the loss. He wipes at some of the dirt on your thigh, mixing it with your own juices.
“And you seem to rather enjoy that,” you mumble back, squeezing him slightly. An affirmative chuckles leaves his throat before he lifts you up and lowers you into the small bath in front of him, the warm water immediately soothing your body.
He follows a moment later, stepping into the blue mass. A few petals swirl around on the surface, stirred by your movements in the water as he pulls you close again, his body seemingly all around you as he wraps you in his arms. Then he lowers his head, trailing kisses over your collarbone and down your skin until he reaches your chest, grazing his teeth over your hardened nipple.
“Marcus—” you whine, impatiently pressing your body into his, attempting to get any friction, a task made even harder by the water around you. “I want you inside, please.”
“Always so polite, Anaticula,” he mumbles into your skin but he does satisfy himself with one more nip at your skin before pulling back. “Is that what you want?”
You nod impatiently and feel him lining himself up below you, gently directing you towards the far edge of the bath, where he immediately braces himself against the wall for support with you in his arms—and just a moment later, you can feel him sink into you.
Your bodies mold together, his cock making you feel so deliciously full and complete. You can hear him grunt as he begins to thrust into you gently, his hands on your hips as he guides you onto him again and again, making you moan into his neck as you cling on, half a mind not to touch his injury.
Acacius groans your name, his movements speeding up slightly. “Come on, I want to see your pretty face, dulcissima.” You pull back enough to see him and press your forehead against his. Your thumb comes up to wipe a spot of dirt off his face and brush over his beard, the hairs of it more gray than dark, like they were when you first met, and for a few moments, you both just stare at each other as the water around you ripples with your movements.
“Let go for me.” It's just a whisper—and one you don’t think you could ignore if you tried. You feel the wave wash over you, your vision going weak as you fall apart—knowing that Acacius will hold you close until you’re put together again. You barely notice that he follows suit, spilling himself inside of you with whispered promises of all the things you’ll have one day.
You stay intertwined in the water like that for a while. Eventually, you begin to gather some in your hand and let it run down Acacius’s scalp, beginning to wash the dried blood out of the gray-streaked hair.
“You are going to let me put a proper bandage on your cut once we get out,” you state, earning a loyal nod from him. His eyes are searching yours again, carrying the soft look you know is reserved for you.
“I did come back,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
“I know.”
You kiss him softly and he kisses you back just as softly as you curl into him, inhaling his scent and pulling him close and ever closer, determined to let noone take you from him.
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thank you for reading! feel free to follow my socials or leave a comment if you want more of slutty roman men <3
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punkshort · 4 months ago
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In Another Life | Part I
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)
Chapter Summary: Your brother and his friend surprise you after work with a handsome stranger crashing on your couch who claims to be from Ancient Rome.
Chapter Warnings: language, food consumption, major romcom vibes, mentions of prostitution, mentions of OC death, mentions of OC pregnancy, flirting, sexual tension
WC: 6.5K
A/N: this is a soft/romcom Marcus Acacius mini-series. Heavily inspired by Kate & Leopold. Also, let's just assume Ancient Romans spoke and could read English.
Series Masterlist
Time was of the essence. He had to move quick.
People would say he was a coward, no doubt his legacy would be tarnished, but if he escaped with his life, so be it.
He didn't bother with spare clothes, just an extra set of sandals and food thrown into a satchel before he crept down the dimly lit hallway, careful not to wake one of his many servants.
He loved his palace. It was a place of peace and comfort for him, but come morning, it would be ripped away and he would be thrown into the pit. A general, Rome's deadly sword and the Emperor's right hand man, would become a lowly gladiator. Trained to perform and kill for amusement.
And all because he refused to play the Emperor's sick game.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't help train another legion of young men half his age to fight and die for their vanity. For their greed. When the Emperor announced his new task, all he could think of was his unborn son. He would be of age now, had he lived. He could have been training him to die.
He padded down the stone steps softly, hardly making a sound, his combat training serving him well. He managed to get just outside the city limits while it was still dark, but he could see the glow from the sun breaking the horizon. He didn't have much time to find a place to hide. He was still too close, and no doubt warriors would be looking for him once Geta realized he had fled.
Gods above, if they found him... his fate would be far worse than one of a gladiator.
He stumbled across a small clearing, head twisted around to make sure he was not being followed when he tripped over something large and heavy.
"Oh, shit!" he heard a young male voice exclaim.
Quickly, he unsheathed his sword and aimed it toward the voice. Confusion painted his face when he saw the unusual clothing and utterly strange contraption behind him. Before he had a chance to say anything, leaves rustled and he swung is sword towards the noise. Another young man, similarly dressed to the other, emerged from the thicket.
"State your names. Quick."
"Uh..." the first man trailed off, hands raising slowly in the air. "D-Danny. Daniel. And this is... Victor."
"Dude! C'mon! You know I -"
"Silence!" the general roared as loud as he dared. "What is your business here?"
"Science! Just... experiments. And the like," Danny said hurriedly, glancing at Victor for help. He nodded.
"Yes. Experiments."
"And are you citizens of Rome?"
They paused and looked at one another again.
"We are citizens of... York," Danny said.
"It's new," Victor added.
The general looked back and forth between the two men before ultimately deciding he did not have the time to quarrel with them and they did not appear to be a threat. He dropped his sword to the side and glanced around.
"You did not see me," he said sternly, turning to leave.
"Wait!"
He glanced back over his shoulder, pausing.
"Are you running away?"
"Fleeing," Victor added quietly.
"Fleeing?" Daniel repeated.
"I do not see it fit for you to ask such questions of someone above your station," he snarled. The two men exchanged worried looks before continuing.
"We're leaving. If you're looking to jet, you can... y'know," Danny said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder towards the strange looking contraption.
"Can you get me to Greece?"
They grinned and nodded.
"Sure, dude."
The general glanced around once again, his brow furrowing when he saw the light stretching high into the sky, brightening the landscape and soon, giving his position away.
"Then I accept."
He sheathed his sword and stomped over to the men, startling them both with his intensity.
Victor turned to unlock a door, struggling a bit before it popped open and crawling inside. Danny stuck out a hand and gave him a nervous smile.
"What's your name?"
His eyes dropped down to the frail looking hand before him, then slowly, as if he couldn't decide, lifted his arm to grasp the inside of Daniel's forearm, giving him a vigorous shake.
"General Marcus Acacius."
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"What the fuck?" you grumbled under your breath, rereading your brother's text.
Danny: I have a friend crashing on the couch, won't stay long
Shuffling your bag onto your other shoulder as you walked down the bustling city street, you tapped out a response.
You: It better not be Lizard.
Danny: It's not, but he's here 2
Danny: Just visiting
Fucking Lizard. You've known him since he was maybe ten years old and you were fairly certain he never matured past that age.
Given you had two extra people waiting for you in your already cramped apartment, you decided to grab a couple pizzas on the way home instead of the sushi you had been thinking about all day. Choosing to be a little selfish, you made one of them a white pizza, it being your favorite, and made your way home with the last bits of energy you had left.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you walked into that day.
You stopped dead in your tracks when you stepped into your apartment, door wide open behind you, two pizza boxes balancing in one hand as you stared blankly at the massive man standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room. He was dressed in some strange type of robe that fell just above his knee and his head was bent, looking at something on your coffee table.
When you cleared your throat, he swung around and defensively placed a hand at his waist. That was when you noticed the massive and very real looking sword at his side and your blood ran cold.
"D-Danny!" you yelled, your eyes glued to the stranger's hand. As if he finally sensed your fear, he dropped his arm and straightened up.
"Apologies-"
"Danny!" you yelled again, louder this time.
"Yeah? Hey! Sorry," Danny said, hurrying into the room with Lizard following on his heels.
"Oh, pizza? Sweet," Lizard said, reaching for the boxes and brushing past you as if an armed man wasn't standing in the middle of your home.
"Who the hell is this?!" you exclaimed, pointing towards the stranger while glaring at your brother.
"I told you already, he's a friend who's crashing on the couch for a few days," he replied, following Lizard into the kitchen, pizza the only concern at that point.
"My lady," the man began again, "please allow me to explain."
"My lady?" you repeated with a scowl. "I thought you guys stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons after high school."
"That's not -" Danny shook his head with a mouthful of pizza, "this is General Acacius."
"General?" you said quizzically, raising an eyebrow first at Danny, then towards the large man in your living room. "Be serious, Danny."
"He is!"
"I promise, what he says is true," the general chimed in, taking a step closer and stretching out his hand. You sighed and dropped your things onto your table.
"I'm too tired for this, it's been a long week."
The general frowned, hand still outstretched. "Daniel, please explain to your mistress she is not to challenge men above her lover's ranking."
You balked and gagged. "Lover?!"
"Mistress?" Danny said at the same time with a similar look of disgust. "Gross, dude, she's my sister."
Something in the general's face shifted when he learned you were siblings and he looked at you with renewed interest. "Ah, so you do not belong to another?"
You rolled your eyes and grabbed a plate, tossing a piece of white pizza on it before Danny and Lizard ate it all. "I don't have a husband, no. And that's a super sexist thing to say, I don't care if you're role playing or not."
Turning around to exit the kitchen, you were surprised to find the general somehow snuck up on you. Standing just a few feet away, you nearly ran into his strong, broad chest. He lifted a hand to tilt your chin up and whatever biting remark you had locked and loaded died on your tongue. You finally allowed yourself to get a good look at him. Dark, brooding eyes. Thick, brown curls dusted in grey, the color matching his beard. Sharp, angular nose and pouty lips.
Okay, so he was good looking. That didn't negate the weird dress and obvious mental illness.
"Your name?" he murmured softly, finger still hooked under your chin.
You cleared your throat and responded with your name, to which he nodded before dropping his hand. His gaze drifted to your plate and his nose wrinkled. "What is this you are eating?"
"Pizza?" you replied, squeezing up against your counter so you could get past him and get some space. "Help yourself."
"What is pizza?" you heard him ask Danny. You collapsed onto the couch with a groan and took a bite, fully not in the mood for whatever weird shit your brother had going on.
"It's Italian, you'll like it," Danny replied.
The three men trailed in from the kitchen to join you in the living room, your moment of peace and quiet over.
"This appears to be some bastardized version of flatbread," the general said, lifting the piece of pizza and giving it a tentative sniff. "What is this red? Some kind of pepper paste?"
"It's tomato sauce."
"Alright, enough with this bullshit please," you said, but the men ignored you.
You watched as he took a bite and almost instantly spit it out. "This is vile."
"Hey, that's authentic New York City pizza. Nothing vile about it," Lizard said. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
"General - I'm sorry, I'm not calling you that. What's your real name?"
"That is my real name," he answered, cocking his head at you from the other end of the couch.
"General Marcus Acacius," Danny told you, cursing under his breath when he dropped some cheese on his shirt.
"Okay, Marcus," you began, but he shook his head.
"It is quite inappropriate for you to -"
"I don't give a shit, I'm not calling you General like I'm in the fucking army!"
The room fell quiet as you glared at Marcus, daring him to say another word. When it became evident he wasn't going to, you took a deep breath and continued.
"If you don't like the sauce, there's another pizza in the kitchen without it. Go try that," you said, voice a little softer now. He nodded and rose to go find the white pizza, leaving just the three of you for the first time.
"What the fuck, Danny?!" you whispered angrily. "Why the hell is there a guy in a dress pretending he's a fucking general in my home?"
"He is a general," Danny whispered back. "From Ancient Rome. I'll explain everything later," he said, straightening up when Marcus's footsteps approached.
"This is far better. Thank you, my lady."
"Oh, look at that. You already have something in common," Lizard said with a fake, syrupy voice. "You both love gross pizza."
"Thought you just said authentic New York City pizza can't be gross?" you sneered.
"Boom! She got you, Lizard," Danny laughed. Marcus looked around the room, confused.
"You said your name was Victor, did you not?"
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with a napkin.
"Lizard's just his nickname. His real name is Victor," Danny explained.
"Yeah. No one calls me Victor. Just like no one calls you Marcus," Lizard explained.
"Only those dearest to me are allowed to use that name," he explained. "Such as a parent or a lover." His eyes flickered up to you quickly before focusing on his pizza once again.
"Does that make you his lover now?" Lizard teased. You kicked a foot out and jabbed him in the hip.
"Shut up," you grumbled.
"Do you not follow the proper steps to obtain a lover in your land?" he asked, genuine curiosity painting his face. "It is much more than simply calling another by a name. If a man were to deem a woman acceptable, he would make an arrangement with her father to wed." He scratched his chin in thought for a moment before adding, "unless, of course, she is a whore."
Lizard and Danny doubled over, howling with laughter while you stared daggers at them both.
"Did I say something to warrant such laughter?" Marcus asked you. You rolled your eyes.
"No, you did not."
"Rule number one, General," Danny said, gasping for air and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Don't call girls whores."
Marcus looked taken aback.
"I meant no offense. A whore is a common profession where I am from. There is no shame in it."
"Alright, can we stop talking about whores?" you asked, exasperated.
"Yeah, good idea. Let's find you some clothes to wear and we'll set up the couch so you can sleep. It folds out, don't worry," Danny told Marcus.
"My tunic should suffice," Marcus said, glancing down at his clothes.
"Uh, not in New York, man. Might stick out a little," Lizard joked, then stood to take his plate back in the kitchen for seconds.
"Depends on what side of town you're on," you mumbled under your breath.
"You can borrow something of mine," Danny said, standing up to go to his room. "You're a little bigger than me but I think I have something that'll work."
You eyed Marcus up over your plate, taking in the finer details of his appearance. "Where are you from? Really?" you asked. He turned to you with a sigh.
"Rome."
"Come on. You can drop the act, they're gone," you said, narrowing your eyes at him.
"I promise, I am telling you the truth," he replied, his gaze boring into you so intensely that it left you spellbound for a moment. "Your brother and his comrade found me on the outskirts of the city with some... contraption. They said they would take me to Greece, however it is clear this is not Greece."
"A contraption?" you repeated nervously. Oh, fuck.
He nodded. "I had never seen anything like it. I do not know what happened but once I entered, there were bright lights and a loud crack and... I must have lost consciousness. I woke in your lounge, utterly confused."
"Shit," you whispered, putting your plate down so you could angrily scrub your face with your hands. Danny, although very irritating and far too dependent on you for basic survival, was incredibly gifted. His intelligence stunned his teachers since he was three years old. He was doing long division at five and became fluent in Spanish at seven. By the time he entered high school, he had grown extremely interested in science, where he met Lizard. For years you had witnessed failed experiments and fireballs in your backyard, but you saw all their successes, as well. Since they were fourteen, Danny and Lizard talked about time travel and you always brushed them off, even when they began to build different devices throughout the years that claimed they were on the verge of a breakthrough, but of course, nothing ever came of it.
Until now.
No, that was crazy. There's no way they actually travelled back in time to Ancient Rome and returned with a Roman general... right?
"Why were you going to Greece?" you asked, tiredly dropping your hands in your lap.
He paused for a moment and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply right when Danny emerged from his bedroom with an armful of different clothing options.
"We'll go shopping tomorrow and find something else that will fit," he said, sheepishly handing over the clothes. Marcus slowly reached out and set them down on the cushion next to him.
"Thank you."
"Hey, I'm gonna take off," Lizard said from the kitchen doorway.
"Yeah, alright. Hey!" Danny said, swiveling around before he left. "You'll be back tomorrow, right? I need your help with the... thing."
You narrowed your eyes in his direction but remained silent. Once Marcus was asleep, you planned on having a very heated conversation with your brother, so you saved that little tidbit for later.
"Yeah, sure thing, man."
You stood to clean up the leftovers while you listened to Danny explain the concept of a pull-out couch to Marcus, then after that, a bathroom. The more time that passed, the more nervous you became. What if this was real? Was it even possible?
Quietly, you stepped out from the kitchen. Marcus was sitting on the edge of the pull out mattress, hands clasped together between his knees as he stared blankly at the floor. For the first time, you felt bad for him. If everything he said was true, he had to have been so confused and scared.
"Hey," you said softly. He lifted his head with a jolt of surprise. "Here's some water," you said, offering him a plastic bottle. He took it and frowned. "You twist the top to open it," you explained, ignoring how ridiculous it felt to tell a grown man how to open a bottle of water.
"Thank you," he replied, setting it down on the floor next to his bed.
"Do you need anything else?"
He shook his head and gave you a small smile. "No, my lady. Thank you for your hospitality."
"You're welcome," you said shyly, inching towards the little hallway that led to your bedroom. "We'll get you back home, Marcus. Don't worry."
He swallowed and smiled again. "Of course."
You smiled back and awkwardly clapped your hands together. "Well, if you need anything at all, just knock on one of our doors."
He nodded and with a sigh, began to peel back the sheets.
"Good night, my lady," he said once your back was turned. You swiveled back around and gave him a little wave, his deep brown eyes looking breathtaking in the evening light.
"Good night."
Flustered, you knocked into the doorframe on your way back to your room. Cursing under your breath and rubbing your shoulder, you slipped behind your door, finally putting an end to your humiliation.
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The next morning you sipped your coffee in your kitchen as you replayed the argument you had with Danny the night before once you were sure Marcus was asleep.
"You need to get him back home. Tomorrow, Danny," you had said sternly.
"There might be a slight hiccup with that," he replied, bracing himself for your anger. "The machine needs repairs."
"What the fuck do you mean?!" you seethed as your paced around his cluttered room.
"Don't worry, sis! We can fix it! But we just need a couple days."
"How many days?" you asked with a glare.
Danny shrugged. "Two. Three."
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.
"A week, tops."
"A week?!"
"Shh! You'll wake him up!" he scolded, pointing angrily towards the door. "Lizard's coming over tomorrow, we'll get working on it right away. Something happened on impact when we returned, I didn't factor in modern day atmospheric pressure originally, but -"
"I don't give a shit what the reason is, you just need to fix it! You have no clue what the ramifications are by keeping him here! You could alter the course of history or something!"
"You watch too many movies," Danny chuckled, but quickly stopped and cleared his throat when he saw the look on your face. "I'll fix it. Promise."
The caffeine hadn't even had a chance to enter your bloodstream before Danny woke and dropped yet another problem onto your lap.
"Do you think you can take him shopping for some clothes today while me and Lizard work on this thing?" he asked as he poured cereal into a bowl.
"So now I'm running errands for you?" you snapped.
"C'mon, don't be like that," he replied as he put the carton of milk back in the fridge. The dynamic between you and your brother was wearing thin. It was always up to you to be the levelheaded one while he just allowed the wind to take him wherever it pleased, completely carefree while you harbored all the stress of basic responsibilities.
"Try to just enjoy the adventure for once," he added before messily scooping cereal into his mouth.
"Yeah, right," you grumbled under your breath before bringing your mug to your lips and taking another sip.
"So, is that a yes?"
"Fine," you said with a roll of your eyes. "If only so I can get away from this apartment and the inevitable chaos those repairs will bring. Just don't piss off my neighbors, okay?"
"Deal."
"Good day," you heard Marcus's deep voice rumble behind you. You jumped and swiveled around, gaze flickering down briefly to take in his borrowed clothes. Danny was right, he needed something that fit.
"Morning, General," Danny said with a grin. "Sleep well?"
"Surprisingly, yes. Even with all the noise outdoors... tell me, is it ever silent here?"
"No," you both said in unison. He nodded and looked down at his tunic, which was crumpled up in his fist.
"Do you have a servant I can give this to for washing?"
"That would be me," you said, stretching out your arm. Marcus hesitated for a moment.
"The lady of the house shouldn't have to perform such arduous tasks."
"I agree, yet here we are," you said, taking the tunic and tossing it over your shoulder. "I have to put in a load, anyway."
You changed your clothes and freshened up while listening to your brother scrape together some type of meal for Marcus that he found acceptable, then pressed the button on your tiny washing machine before heading back into the kitchen.
"Ready?"
Marcus glanced between you and Danny while chewing the last piece of a baguette.
"My sister's gonna take you shopping for some clothes," Danny explained. Marcus looked down at his attire and nodded.
"To the market, then?" he asked you, trailing after you as you tossed your bag over your shoulder and walked down the hallway towards the elevators.
"Something like that."
"I have plenty of denar," he said as you jabbed the call button.
"Denar?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather satchel filled with unfamiliar coins. You grinned and shook your head.
"Don't worry, I got it."
"Please, your hospitality has already been gracious enough," he said, following you into the elevator when it opened.
"If you can find someone who will take that, then be my guest," you said, tapping the lobby button. He was about to say something else when the doors closed and the car violently jolted, startling him.
"What is this?"
"It's an elevator. It lifts us up and down so we don't have to take the stairs."
His jaw hung open in disbelief until the doors slid open to reveal the lobby, then he broke out into a huge smile.
"Incredible."
But once he followed you out onto the busy New York City street, peppered with pedestrians, bicyclists, couriers, and a sea of vehicles, then his eyes practically bugged out of his head.
"I see now where all the noise comes from," he said to you, raising his voice a bit over the commotion as you walked. It was actually endearing to see him experience the city for the first time, something you took for granted every day leaves most people in awe. It was easy to forget that.
"Stick close," you said with a small smile when you saw him tip his head back to gaze up at the towering skyscrapers.
"What is your profession, then?" he asked as he walked by your side. You noticed with envy that others on the sidewalk veered out of his way, his massive shoulders and hulking frame no doubt the reason, instead of brushing past him, like what most do to you every day.
"I write for a fashion magazine."
"Oh, so you're a poet?" he asked, intrigued. You shook your head with a small laugh.
"No. I write about romance in the lifestyle section. I have a column every month on a different topic and I also pick three reader questions to answer and publish on the website every week."
It was clear he hardly understood what you were talking about, so you stopped at the nearest newsstand and grabbed your magazine. After paying, you ushered him over to a bench and sat down while you thumbed through it.
"Ah! Here we go," you said, proudly handing over the magazine and tapping on the corner of the page.
"'Are Soulmates Real'?" he read aloud the title before frowning at you. You nodded.
"Yeah, I talk about the idea of soulmates and how it's putting too much pressure on the modern woman to find this perfect partner when in reality, they don't exist."
"And how do you know this?" he asked, clearly amused.
"I don't, but I wrote from experience," you shrugged.
"So, since you have not found a soulmate, that means they do not exist?"
"No, it's an opinion, Marcus," you explained, "the magazine pays me for my opinion and outlook on things."
He sighed and closed the magazine with a shake of his head. "I am sorry you feel that way."
"Are you saying you believe in soulmates?" you asked.
"Well, I cannot say one way or another from experience, but I like to believe they exist, yes."
"Do you have a wife or family waiting for you back home?" The thought hadn't even occurred to you before now and you felt guilty, but he shook his head.
"My wife died many years ago during childbirth," he said sadly, and your heart plummeted. "She was young and I had just made rank, so her father arranged our marriage in order to ensure a safe and comfortable life for his only daughter." He looked down at the magazine in his hands but he wasn't really reading it. He was too lost in thought.
"She was with child very quickly after we wed. I had not even known her a year by the time she passed, but the time I had with her was enjoyable. I thought very much one day we would learn to love one another," he said, giving you a sad smile. "Was not meant to be."
"I'm so sorry," you said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's horrible... I don't even know what to say."
"It was a long time ago now. I never did remarry, although I had many offers. I became entirely focused on war, fighting to keep Rome and her citizens safe. It is what I was meant to do," he said, exhaling loudly and looking around. "Is this what you feel you are meant to do?" he asked, holding up the magazine. You laughed, grateful for the change of subject.
"No, probably not."
He grinned and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I imagine you are destined for much more, my lady."
"You think so?" you asked, scrunching your nose self-consciously.
He nodded, his gaze drifting over your face solemnly.
"I do."
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If elevators impressed Marcus, then the escalators within Bloomingdale's practically floored him. He was so enraptured with them that you had to nudge his shoulder to remind him to step forward before he tripped when you got to the top.
"This is unlike anything I have ever laid my eyes on," he said to you in wonder, his head rolling around on his shoulders as he gazed around at all the lights and signage.
"Yeah, Bloomingdale's is special," you said dreamily. "Sometimes I get to tag along with girls from work to pick out fashion samples for the magazine. It's always so much fun."
You led him over to the men's section and turned to study his broad frame. "You're probably an extra large," you said as you began to sift through the racks, picking out various shirts in different styles and colors and draping them over your arm. He watched you without saying a word, just occasionally feeling the material between his fingertips whenever he saw something that caught his eye. When you got to the pants, you paused and pursed your lips. Glancing around, you spotted a measuring tape left on one of the registers. Grabbing his hand in yours, you dragged him over and shoved the shirts in his arms.
"Here. Hold these while I measure your waist and inseam."
He frowned for a moment but did as you asked, then jumped when you wrapped your arms around his middle with the tape.
"Sorry, it will only take a second," you murmured, ignoring how muscular and firm he felt under your hands. You took note of the number and flushed when it came time to measure his inseam. You chewed on your lip and glanced around, searching for a worker to maybe do it instead, but none were nearby.
"Okay, I'm going to have to measure the length of your leg," you began to explain. "I need to... put my hand close to..." you trailed off and gestured vaguely towards his lap and it finally seemed to click.
"Oh," he said in surprise, glancing down. He cleared his throat and nodded but you could see the pink creeping up his neck.
"I'll be fast," you assured him, "unless you prefer I find someone else."
"No, that is quite alright," he told you, standing tall and tucking his hands behind his back. Glancing around the store once more, you fell to your knees with the measuring tape. You tried not to think about it, tried not to look, but his clothes were too snug as it was and it was right fucking there.
Jesus Christ, you had to get it together. You were not lusting after a time traveling Roman general in the middle of Bloomingdale's. But it was impossible to ignore the impressive looking bulge right at eye level.
"Okay," you said quickly, standing up so fast your head spun. "Got it, let's go."
You hurriedly dropped the measuring tape back on the counter and swiveled around, looking for men's pants while trying to hide how flustered you were. You grabbed a few pairs of jeans and khakis before adding them to Marcus's pile, and avoiding his eye, you pointed over to the corner.
"You can try them on in there."
You waited outside patiently, listening to him struggle with a zipper. You had to draw the line: there was no way you would help him with that. But when he emerged from the dressing room for approval wearing a nice fitting pair of jeans and a white polo shirt, you kind of missed those tight clothes from before. You gave him a smile and thumbs up and he grinned before stepping back into the dressing room. When he turned around and you saw his ass in those jeans, you tilted your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.
Okay, the new clothes weren't so bad, either.
You picked him out two pairs of pants, an assortment of shirts, and paid before going to the intimates floor to grab some underwear, socks, and pajamas. On the way to the men's section, you passed by some mannequins wearing lacy lingerie and robes. Marcus frowned and tugged on your elbow.
"What is that for?"
You glanced in the direction he was pointing and inwardly groaned.
"It's undergarments women wear," you explained, hoping to leave it at that, but he still had questions.
"What is the purpose of the colors if they are under your clothes?"
You sighed and pinched your nose. "It's for sex, okay?" you whispered to him, looking around quickly to make sure nobody could overhear you.
"Sex?" he repeated at full volume. You shushed him, your cheeks flaring with heat, but he just gave you a bewildered look. "Why must I be quiet?"
"We don't talk about sex in public here," you told him, voice still lowered. "It's inappropriate."
"Why on earth not?" he asked, but he kept his voice soft for your benefit as he followed you into the men's section. "Nothing is more natural or beautiful than sex."
"Yeah, well, I don't have all the answers, Marcus."
"And why would a woman drape herself in such garb? A woman's body is a work of art. It is meant to be worshiped and admired just as it is. One would not hang ornaments off a statue of Venus, so why would a woman -"
"I don't know, Marcus!" you said, grabbing a pack of boxers and then a pack of white socks. "Men just like it, I guess."
He scoffed and shook his head but chose not to say anything further when he picked up the agitation in your voice.
You paid for the rest of the clothes and handed him the bag to carry as you led him to the exit. "Are you hungry What do you usually eat around this time of day?"
"It varies. I quite like fish with some bread and cheese."
You thought about it for a moment before your face lit up and you snapped your fingers.
"I have an idea."
Right around the corner from Bloomingdale's was one of your favorite bagel places. You found a table outside and made him sit then hurried inside to order two lox bagels. You almost grabbed Diet Coke but then thought that might kill him, so instead you got two waters and met him back outside in less than ten minutes.
"Try this," was all you said, handing him a warm bagel wrapped in paper and smelling absolutely divine.
Carefully, he peeled the paper away and sniffed the bagel before taking a hesitant bite. You waited, your own bagel untouched, for his reaction. His eyes snapped up to yours and a slow smile spread across his face.
"This is magnificent."
You giggled and tore into the paper covering your own lunch. "I had a feeling you would like it. Fish, bread and cheese."
He nodded and took a bigger bite. "Very wise. Tell me," he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "How has no one asked your father for your hand in marriage? You are bright, strong and beautiful. I am shocked you are not taken."
You decided to let the taken comment go that time and swallowed your food before replying. "Our parents are dead, first of all. But secondly, even if someone was interested in marrying me, they wouldn't need to ask my father. They just ask the woman directly now."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "My apologies. I was unaware of your parents' passing."
"That's okay," you shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Danny was a teenager and I had just graduated high school." You looked up at him, realizing he wouldn't understand what that meant. "I was nineteen. I had to grow up fast and help keep an eye on Danny," you settled on saying, figuring that would sum it up enough.
He nodded and looked down at his food, quietly thinking over what you said. "Has a man ever asked for your hand?" he asked before taking another bite of food.
You laughed. "Uh, no."
"Why is that humorous?"
You sighed and glanced around. "I haven't exactly dated many winners." He cocked an eyebrow at you and you added, "I seem to only attract assholes."
"Ah," he said in understanding. "I am attracted to you. Does this make me an... asshole?"
Your eyelids fluttered and you nearly choked on your water. "W-what?"
"I said, I am attracted -"
"No, I heard you, I just needed a second to process what you said," you told him, feeling your heart beat loudly in your chest. He tilted his head at you curiously.
"Does this surprise you?"
You laughed and fanned the back of your neck nervously. "Um, yes, a little. People don't usually go around just announcing when they're attracted to someone. They're a little more subtle than that."
"Oh. Have I made you uncomfortable? I do apologize," he said, his deep brown eyes softening as he gazed at you across the table.
"It's okay, I just didn't expect it," you chuckled, waving him off and focusing on your food with a stupid smile stretched across your face. He watched you eat for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as he replayed what you just told him.
"You did not say if you are attracted to me," he said, drawing your attention back up to him. "Is this because you are not, or are you being... subtle?"
You grinned and shook your head. "You have a weird way of flirting."
He smiled back, the creases next to his eyes deepening. "I told you. Where I am from, sex is not something to be ashamed of. It is enjoyable and discussed often. Unless one has devoted themselves to a life of celibacy."
Definitely not, you thought. He let the subject drop as he finished the rest of his lunch and sat back in his chair, looking around at the cars inching by and beeping their horns angrily. You remained quiet for a few minutes, debating on what to say, if you should say anything at all until you finally decided fuck it.
"I'm attracted to you, too."
His head swiveled in your direction and he grinned. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
You giggled in disbelief before you said, "you're welcome."
Something had shifted between you on the walk back to your apartment. It felt so different from just a few hours ago, and it wasn't just the shocking confession over lunch. You had learned a little more about each other, let the other in and shared personal details about your lives, trusting one another with your vulnerability. And for once, you didn't feel raw and exposed. Strangely, it felt like you could trust him. Maybe it was because you knew he would be gone in a few days and it didn't feel like you had much to lose.
However, when you got off the elevator and walked toward your apartment, the sounds of power tools and shouting coming from the other side of the door, Marcus stopped you. He plucked your hand from your side and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing over them gently while maintaining eye contact, the entire moment making your hands tremble and your heart to flutter excitedly in your chest.
"Thank you for today, my lady. I had a lovely time with you."
You smiled shyly at him and looked down at the ground.
"Me, too," you replied softly.
And it was then you realized you very much might have something to lose after all.
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lovelookspretty · 2 months ago
Text
lover of mine
drew starkey x actress!reader au
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— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.
warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS
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authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight
anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333
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you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.
it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.
drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.
you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.
the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.
“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.
there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.
“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”
“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”
“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”
“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.
you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”
gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.
you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.
“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”
“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.
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you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.
“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.
“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”
libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”
you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”
and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.
when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.
theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.
“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”
roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.
“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.
she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”
“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.
you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.
you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.
drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”
you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.
libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.
she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.
“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.
after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”
you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”
libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”
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the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.
it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.
fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.
and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.
“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”
“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.
when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.
“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.
you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.
drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.
you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.
and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.
you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.
you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.
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after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.
there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.
you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.
“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”
“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”
“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.
“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.
“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.
and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.
you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.
you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?
you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.
you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.
the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.
you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.
drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.
“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”
you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.
he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.
“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.
he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”
he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”
you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.
he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”
you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.
“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”
he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”
there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”
what?
you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .
his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”
“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”
“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”
you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.
he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”
you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.
“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”
your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”
you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”
his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”
you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?
you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.
“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."
he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.
“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."
for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.
“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”
you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.
“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”
you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.
he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”
the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”
his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”
you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.
you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.
when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.
you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.
and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.
you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.
toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”
the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.
his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.
his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.
his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”
you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.
you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.
you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?
“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.
finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.
“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.
he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”
“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.
he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”
your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.
you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.
he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.
after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”
he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.
“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.
“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.
he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”
and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.
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@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier
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belqva · 27 days ago
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₊˚⊹౨ PTOLEMAEA (C.M.) ৎ ₊˚⊹
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warnings: emotional and physical abuse, inappropriate comments (only one), parent issues, confessional themes, religious themes, mentions of miscarriages, alcoholism, cheating and gambling
summary: In a church’s embrace, faith and desire collide. A daughter’s silent struggle beneath parents’ guise, seeks solace in forbidden thoughts.
pairing: charlie mayhew x reader
word count: 2.8k
a/n: umm.. what can I say? I’m just a girl and I am obsessed with Nicholas Chavez so ofc I had to write something for him!! Sorry if there are any inaccuracies I am not a roman catholic Christian, and in no ways do I approve of any kind of religious discrimination or whatsoever!! This is just a work of fanfiction. Just to mention yet again English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes. Feel free to write your thoughts and opinions, requests are open as long as you are respectful!! And as always I hope you enjoy <333
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You stood at Sunday morning mass beside your parents, the familiar scent of candles and incense filling the air. Your hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, a delicate bow resting against it—just the way your mother liked it.
You wore a knee-length skirt with an appropriate top, an outfit that aligned with the image of a good Christian girl. You were supposed to be focused on prayer, absorbing the priest’s sermon, but your mind wandered elsewhere.
The morning had already been eventful, and your thoughts kept replaying the chaotic scene at home before you arrived at church.
It had all changed so quickly once you stepped through the church doors. Your mother and father, as if by some silent agreement, shifted into their usual roles.
They greeted neighbors with wide smiles, exchanging pleasantries as though everything in your household was perfectly ordinary. Then, during mass, they stood on either side of you, hands folded in prayer, playing the part of a devout and happy Christian couple.
But it was a charade, and you knew it all too well. Only an hour earlier, their voices had echoed through the house in another heated argument.
Your father, as always, was a shadow of the man you had once imagined he could be. He had wanted a son, a dream he clung to until after your birth. But after several miscarriages, his hope dissolved, replaced by bitterness. His drinking became a constant, and gambling soon followed. He found his escape in these vices, and over time, he drifted further from any sense of family.
Your mother, meanwhile, had her own form of escape. The affairs started when you were still too young to fully understand, but over time, even your father became aware. They would argue and scream, but the fights eventually gave way to indifference. They had stopped trying to fix anything, stopped pretending they even wanted to.
And then there was you. A silent observer, a helpless child who could only watch as her parents’ marriage fell apart piece by piece. You wondered, even at a young age, what you had done wrong. What could you have done differently? Why did you feel like it was your fault?
It wasn’t uncommon for your mother to slap you when things got particularly tense. Your father, too, had his moments—he would make inappropriate comments about your appearance that left you feeling small, but thank God, it never went beyond that.
Still, you tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, the ideal Christian girl. You volunteered at the church, memorized Bible verses, and always said your prayers, hoping that maybe one day it would be enough. Maybe one day Jesus would answer your prayers and fix what was broken.
But as you stood there in church, surrounded by people who had no idea what your life was really like, you felt tired. Tired of pretending, tired of praying for something that never seemed to come.
“Why don’t you focus, sweetheart?” your mother whispered sharply, her breath hot against your ear as she nudged you with her elbow.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes down. You forced yourself to listen to the priest’s voice, though his words washed over you like water over stone. But the truth lingered, always at the back of your mind.
You prayed every day, but sometimes, even you doubted if anyone was listening.
“We talked about this, Y/N. Pull yourself together,” your mother hissed, her voice sharp as she leaned in close.
Then, just as quickly, her face softened into a warm smile when an elderly woman nearby turned to glance your way. The performance was flawless—an image of maternal grace. But you felt the sting of her words sink in, a quiet reminder of how fragile your role in this family really was.
Your attention drifted back to the priest, Father Charlie, whose voice filled the room with conviction. “…Remember, the Lord hears all cries, even those spoken in silence. He sees every tear and knows every sorrow in your heart,” he said, his tone both soothing and firm.
“And He asks that we carry these burdens with faith, for through Him, we are never alone. We are called to forgive, to love, even when it feels impossible. For if He could forgive us, how can we withhold forgiveness from others?”
Father Charlie had been the priest at your church for a few years now, and in that time, he had become somewhat of an enigma to you. He was young, undeniably handsome, with a presence that was both comforting and mysterious.
His words held weight, and you admired him for the way he commanded the attention of the congregation, always knowing what to say.
You were fond of him—perhaps too fond. But you couldn’t entirely blame yourself for it. The girls at your Christian school were the ones who started the gossip.
You thought back to the way they whispered about him, shamelessly thirsting after him as though he were some untouchable prize.
“Did you know he was a personal trainer before he became a priest?” one of the girls had said, wide-eyed.
“What a waste,” another had added, grinning. “Who wouldn’t want to be with a man like him?”
At first, you found their comments disgusting and inappropriate. You tried to dismiss them as nothing more than vulgar fantasies. But then, despite yourself, the idea of Father Charlie as something other than a priest began to creep into your mind.
You imagined what he might have been like before his vow to the church. Your cheeks flushed as the thought of him—of his strong body and sharp features—set your nerves alight, and soon an embarrassing heat bloomed in your body, spreading across your skin.
You prayed it away. You really did. You asked God for guidance, for the strength to rid yourself of these sinful thoughts.
You even tried to crush on someone more suitable, someone your age, but it never lasted. Your mind always wandered back to Father Charlie, back to his deep voice and the way he seemed to command every room he walked into.
As he continued preaching, your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. For the thousandth time, you marveled at his otherworldly face, the perfect symmetry of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke of forgiveness and grace.
And though you knew better, though you told yourself it was nonsense, you swore you saw something—some glimmer in his eyes when they landed on you.
His gaze lingered, just for a moment, but it was enough to send your heart racing. You shifted uncomfortably in the pew, a wave of guilt and excitement washing over you.
What if he knew?
What if he could sense what you were thinking?
Of course, it was impossible. But each time his eyes flickered in your direction, the thoughts in your head grew louder, more intense, and far more dangerous.
You fought to keep your composure, but it felt like you were unraveling. Even as his voice carried on with words of love and forgiveness, you couldn’t shake the weight of your desires—desires that no prayer seemed capable of silencing.
The soft echo of footsteps faded as the last congregants filtered out of the church, leaving behind the lingering scent of incense and the faintest hint of candle wax. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, glancing at your parents as they walked toward the car, your mother’s back rigid, your father’s shoulders slumped. A familiar heaviness settled in your chest.
“Aren’t you coming, dear?” Your mother’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp yet feathered with concern.
“Just a moment. I would like to have a word with Father Charlie... alone,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with trepidation.
Your mother narrowed her eyes, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “Oh dear, I’m sure Father Charlie is quite a busy man. You shouldn’t be bothering him with... pointless nonsense.” Her forced smile did little to mask her annoyance.
“Mother, I—”
A throat cleared nearby, interrupting you. You both turned to see Father Charlie standing there, his friendly smile disarming and warm.
“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his voice a soothing balm. “I am here to listen to everyone’s worries and thoughts. It is a part of my calling.”
Your mother opened her mouth to protest, but Father Charlie cut her off effortlessly. “I assure you I am more than glad to help your daughter with whatever it is.” His gaze shifted to you, filled with an understanding that made your heart flutter.
After a moment of tense silence, your mother relented, though it was clear she was not pleased. “Well, alright. We’ll be waiting with your father in the car. Don’t take too long.” Her words dripped with coldness as she turned to leave, casting one last accusatory glance your way.
“Yes, Mother,” you murmured, your heart pounding.
“Father Charlie,” she nodded, the tone of her voice suggesting she was dismissing him more than acknowledging him. He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“I hope to see you soon, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere.
As the heavy doors of the church swung shut behind your mother, a sigh escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Father Charlie chuckled softly, the sound like music—a melody far more pleasant than the hymns that had echoed just moments ago. “She is quite the figure,” he observed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Oh, that she is…” you muttered, the embarrassment creeping into your cheeks.
“Come, walk with me.” He gestured down the long aisle, and you fell into step beside him, your heart racing as you moved past the rows of empty pews. The church felt different now, as if it were just the two of you in a sacred, intimate space.
For a few moments, silence enveloped you both. The quiet was comfortable, yet heavy with anticipation. Then, Father Charlie broke the stillness. “I don’t mean to rush you, but why did you wish to speak with me?” His voice was gentle, with a hint of curiosity.
You hesitated, the words caught in your throat, feeling more vulnerable than ever. “I—um…” The embarrassment was suffocating.
“It’s alright. No need to rush. Take your time,” he encouraged, his gaze unwavering, offering a safe harbor in the storm of your thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart. “Well, I’ve been having some... inadequate thoughts about certain things... and aspects of my life. I’ve tried to pray about it, but it doesn’t seem to help.” The confession spilled out, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing heavily on your chest.
Father Charlie nodded, his expression one of understanding. “That is understandable. Sometimes it is hard for us to connect with the Lord. Temptation is not an easy thing to deal with.” He paused, a shadow crossing his features as if battling something within himself.
“And resisting sin is certainly…” He faltered, the words hanging in the air, unfinished.
“Perhaps coming to a confessional could help?” he suggested, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and something else—something deeper.
The thought of confession made your stomach churn, but you felt drawn to him, the connection between you sparking with unexpected intensity. “I don’t know if that’s what I need…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.
“Sometimes, sharing our burdens can lighten the load we carry. It’s a safe space, a chance to speak freely. I’m here for you,” he assured, his tone steady and inviting.
You looked up at him, caught in the sincerity of his gaze. “It just feels... wrong, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Christian. But I keep failing.”
A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed his features. “It’s not about perfection, Y/N. We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. What matters is the intention behind our actions and the effort to seek forgiveness.”
His words resonated within you, echoing the very truths you had been grappling with. “But what if my intentions are... inappropriate?” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.
Father Charlie stepped a bit closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm embrace. “We all have thoughts that we may not be proud of. It’s what we do with those thoughts that defines us. Have you spoken to anyone about this before?”
You shook your head, feeling exposed. “No, I’ve kept it all inside. I’m afraid of what they might think—especially my mother.”
“Your mother may not understand, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer in silence. You deserve to express your feelings.” His voice was firm, yet tender, grounding you in the moment.
“Do you really think so?” you asked, searching his eyes for reassurance.
“I know so,” he replied, a soft smile breaking across his face. “You are not alone. I’m here, and I’m listening.”
A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, filling the void of loneliness that had settled within you for so long. “Thank you, Father Charlie,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckled softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “It’s my calling to help. You’re brave for reaching out; that’s a step in the right direction.”
You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of your worries still pressing down but feeling a little lighter. “I just wish I could find a way to... reconcile what I feel with my faith.”
Father Charlie nodded, his expression serious yet encouraging. “That’s a journey many embark on, and it’s not always straightforward. But I believe that through honesty—both with yourself and with God—you can find a path that feels right for you.”
His words hung in the air, resonating within you. “But how do I begin?”
“Perhaps we can start with confession. It’s a way to unburden yourself—an opportunity to speak openly without fear of judgment. I would be honored to guide you through it.”
The thought sent a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. “I’ve never done that before,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.
“It’s perfectly alright. Everyone starts somewhere. Just remember, it’s a safe space,” he reassured, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “Okay... I’ll think about it.”
Father Charlie’s smile widened, a genuine warmth emanating from him. “That’s all I ask. Just take your time.”
You felt a sudden rush of emotions, a mixture of gratitude, fear, and something akin to hope. “Thank you, Father. For listening, for understanding.”
“It’s my pleasure, Y/N,” he replied softly. “Remember, you are not alone in this.”
The moment felt suspended in time, an electric charge hanging in the air between you. You were acutely aware of his presence, the way he seemed to draw you in, making the world outside fade away.
But reality came crashing back as you glanced toward the church doors, where the shadows of your parents loomed. “I should go,” you said reluctantly, the weight of the outside world pressing back in.
“Of course,” he said, his tone understanding, yet a hint of disappointment lingered in his eyes.
As you turned to leave, you felt a sudden urge to say more, to linger in that moment just a little longer. “Father Charlie?”
“Yes?” He looked at you, his expression expectant.
“Can I—can I come back and talk to you again?”
“Anytime, Y/N. My door is always open for you.”
You nodded, a small smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Thank you.”
With one last glance, you stepped toward the heavy doors, your heart racing with the thrill of what you had just shared. As you pushed them open, the sunlight flooded in, illuminating the path ahead.
“See you soon, Y/N,” Father Charlie called after you, his voice wrapping around you like a promise.
You took a deep breath, feeling lighter as you stepped outside, the echoes of your conversation lingering in your mind. The conflict within you still simmered, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope.
As you made your way to the car, your mother’s cold gaze met yours, but you held your head high. You were beginning to understand that seeking guidance, even from a handsome priest who stirred feelings you never knew you could possess, was a step toward finding your own truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, you were on the brink of discovering a deeper connection to both your faith and yourself.
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© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024
SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!
THE PLOT OF GROTESQUERIE OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS EXCEPT FOR THE ONES I CREATED DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!
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mari-the-bimbo · 8 months ago
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Husband Higuruma
A/N: Kinda fantasising about this fine ass man so naturally I gotta write about him 🤭 Enjoy! <33
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Oh the way this man adoresss you. His saving grace from the continuous painful cycle of surviving a capitalist economy.
Spoils you to no end. Of course you live in a massive comfortable house where all your makeup, hair, nails and every other luxuries is cared for. And being the humble man he is, he’ll simply shrug his shoulders and kiss you when you thank him for all the gifts.
I know everyone sees him as a easy going man but I can totally see him being a mean flirt.
“I’m so tired” he’ll say, “me too!” You reply as you straddle him, “Aw is procrastinating hard baby?” he replies as he wraps an arm around your waist, you tut in annoyance and try to move his hand away but his hand doesn’t budge, “shut up Hiro!”, “make me” he’ll quickly retorts with a chuckle when you hit his chest in retaliation.
But don’t get me wrong, he’s still a massive simp for you. This man does not play when it comes to you, he is at your every beck and call. “Hiro can you give me a back massage?” “Yes ma’am”
The second the lawyer walks through the door, his tired eyes scan the area for his pretty princess. A small smile graces his face as he watches you skip towards him in your skimpy pyjama romper.
“Come here beautiful” he says as he stretches out his arms.
He doesn’t like undressing himself it’s so much more fun when you help him. It starts with you on your tip toes loosening his tie as he kisses your neck as a thank you, which soon turns into something more as you reach for his blazer, then his shirt, then his trousers.
“Where’s your hands going angel?” He’ll ask amusedly without taking his eyes off your figure. And he knows it’s over for him when you stare up at him with big hopeful eyes as you pretend innocence “hm? Just helping you undress handsome” you lie, and he chuckles knowing he’ll give in to your trap willingly.
“Careful sweetheart, don’t start something you can’t finish” he warns but when you giggle in response and decide to hook a finger into his boxers, he’s done with self control.
And that’s how you find yourself getting railed in the bathtub. Water splashes out of the tub with every thrust from the much larger man pounding into you, his fat throbbing cock deep inside you. You whine “o-oh Hiro~” and attempt to grasp his broad shoulder for stability goes in vain, because this man is a beast when he is pussy hungry, “so fucking good” he praises in your ear, nudging your cheek with his Roman nose when you blush. The sloppy squelches from your pussy had hiromi’s eyes rolling back before both of you cum, hot ropes of his thick cum eventually leaks out of you. But that’s okay, because he’s going to make you lick it up in a sec.
So yeah.. quite an experience dating hiromi huh? ;)
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