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thewritingrowlet · 5 months ago

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The Anniversary, ft. tripleS Kim Yooyeon

tags: fuck it, no tags this time

length: 14k+

author's note: I've lost count of how many times I've been asked to write a Yooyeon smut, so for those who yearn for it, this one's for you.

Yooyeon stirs awake in the middle of the night, feeling uneasy about not having you, her husband, in bed with her like she usually does. She rolls onto your side of the bed and reaches for the framed picture sitting on the bedside table. It’s a picture of you and her, taken on the first night of the vacation trip to Europe to celebrate your first anniversary. “It’s been over 5 years, hasn’t it, love?” Her finger runs up and down on the side of the frame, recalling the memory from what feels like a lifetime ago.

A few days before the trip, Yooyeon and you had a disagreement over some things—things that mattered little but were handled poorly enough that they created a fissure in the new and fragile marriage, even though they shouldn’t have been to begin with.

“I don’t want to talk to you ever again! Leave me alone!” She yelled out, letting her frustration and anger be known to you.

Yooyeon remembers the way you slammed the bedroom door on your way out after the final argument of that Sunday evening. Yooyeon also remembers the way you skipped kissing her before leaving for work the following morning. Finally, Yooyeon remembers how her cheeks were drenched in tears because she thought you weren’t coming home on Monday.

At that point, she thought she had lost everything—over nothing but some de minimis matters. She vividly remembers the way she was leaning against the front door, praying to whatever higher being could hear her for you to come back home—for you to say that you love her and that everything wasn’t so doomed; for you to take her hands in yours and recite the vow: “together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.”

Yooyeon recalls how surprised she was when the front door she had been leaning against suddenly swung open, making her tumble backwards. “My love, it’s you! Oh my God, it’s you!” She exclaimed when she saw you at the front door, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You took me in your arms and carried me to bed, love,” Yooyeon recalls, “y-you told me that you were sorry, and-and you promised that you’d work on becoming a better man for me.”

All this recollecting has her shedding tears subconsciously, but her mind doesn’t want to stop here just yet. It reminds her of that moment after the super late dinner on Monday where she bent over your lap, hiked up her negligee, and offered you her round butt to be spanked. “Punish me, my love; I’ve been a very bad wife,” she said. She shut her eyes to brace for the impact when she saw you lifting your hand. “I was so scared, my love; I thought you were going to really hit me,” she wipes the tear on her left cheek, “you have no idea how relieved I was when I felt you caressing my butt instead of hitting it.” “I would never hurt you like that, my love,” she impersonates you, getting your deep voice as close to the original as she can.

Yooyeon rolls around in bed as she contemplates calling you. She knows that you wouldn’t get angry about it, but at the same time, she wonders if maybe you were asleep—she hates disturbing your sleep. “Ah, I can’t take this anymore.” She grabs her phone and finds your contact easily. “Please pick up, my love.”

You just got off the airplane that took you from Florence back to Seoul. You’re very tired but at the same time, you’re very excited to get home. You’ve spent the last few days going through an absurd amount of work; you’ve met with foreign partners, signed countless documents, and the most painful of them all: eaten at good restaurants without your beloved wife.

Right after you get in your car, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. You read the name of the caller and see that it’s your wife.

“Hello, love.”

“Are you okay, honey? Why aren’t you sleeping? Isn’t this super late in Seoul?”

“I-I was asleep but not having you in bed with me is awful”

“Really?” You tease her, smirking as you do.

“What—of course! You know this better than anyone, love!”

You try your best to stay in character and not burst out laughing—you even cover your mouth with your palm so that your phone doesn’t pick up any sound.

“Love? Why are you quiet?”

“Oh, sorry,” you clear your throat, “I was looking at the flight schedule.”

“Flight sche—are you coming home!?”

“I’m about to, honey—I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’m waiting for you! I love you!”

“I love you more, honey. See you soon, alright?”

As soon as you end the call, you start laughing; you just told your wife a harmless lie and now you’re about to appear at the front door of your house and surprise her. Before you start driving away, you grab a velvet box from your suitcase that’s sitting on the passenger seat. You open it and inspect its content, “I hope you like jewelry, love.”

One last turn to make before you reach your house, and you start feeling nervous and excited at the same time. This electric car doesn’t make any noise, so that’s a plus and minus at the same time: you can approach the house without making any noise but at the same time, you need to come up with something to get her open the front door, since Yooyeon must be in the bedroom on the second floor, which has windows you can see from the driveway.

You think about whether you can pull off the surprise. “Oh, man, how can I get her to come to the front door at this hour?” Your eyes wander around the front side of the house as you look for ideas. They finally land on the CCTV that’s pointed at the front door. “Should be able to use that.” You pull out your phone and call her, and she picks up immediately thanks to her sleeplessness.

“Honey, I’ll be quick so listen to me,” you say in a serious tone, “I see someone at our front door.”

“F-front door? W-who?” She’s starting to fall for the prank. “Wha-what do I do, love? Do I call the police?”

“Just—oh, fuck,” you dramatize, “just bring a gun or a taser and check—be careful, honey!”

Your wife hangs up the call, presumably to get one of the self-defense weapons you’ve provided for her. You get out of the car and stand at the front door, and while you wait, you pray that she won’t pull the trigger against you, its master.

You didn’t have to wait long, because after a few seconds, the left half of the butterfly door swings open, revealing your wife, who is wearing a pink nightgown—she’s also aiming her gun at you. “Hi, baby,” you greet her with a smile, “missed me?” Yooyeon can’t believe her eyes; her husband, who she thought was still in Florence, is standing in front of her. “H-honey? I-is that really you?” You approach her and lower her gun so that it’s not aimed at your face. “Yes, love, it's me.”

Yooyeon lets the gun fall onto the floor as she falls limp into your arms. “Hi, love,” you greet the baffled woman one more time, “I’m home, love—I’m here for you.” She pulls away from the hug and takes a good look at your face. “Oh my God, it really is you, love,” she rubs your cheeks gently, “b-but how? I thought you were still abroad?” You reveal to her that you were actually in the airport’s parking lot when she called: “I literally just got in the car when your call came in.” Your wife lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you fooled me like that, love.”

You ask her to let go of you for a second so that you can close and lock the door. You then pick up the gun from the floor, lock the safety switch, and hide it among the books on the nearby bookshelf. Once you’re done, Yooyeon wraps her arms around your body and leans against your chest. “I love you, hubby,” she says softly, almost too quiet to reach your ears, “I love you so much.”

Without saying it back, you lift your wife and carry her to the sofa. You carefully lower her and have her sit on it while you take a knee in front of her. “Are you proposing again, love? I’ll say yes again, don’t worry.” You chuckle, “no, but I do have something for you.” You fish the velvet box from your back pocket and open it for her. “Happy anniversary, baby.” The actual anniversary is later this week but whatever—there’s nothing stopping you from giving your wife a gift.

Yooyeon looks at the necklace you’ve bought for her in awe, seemingly very fond of it. “This looks expensive, love,” she takes the box from your hands and takes a closer look, “is this for me?” You chuckle again. “Well, yeah—who else deserves such a gift aside from my beautiful wife?” She hands the box back to you and lifts her hair off her neck. “Please, honey,” she says. You move behind her and connect the chain right on her nape. She then turns towards you and shows the centerpiece—it looks majestic hanging on the center of her chest, right underneath her neck. “Absolutely beautiful, honey,” you let out a praise, causing her to blush. “Me or the necklace, love?” You smile at her lovingly. “You are beautiful, and that necklace wouldn’t look as good on anyone else, honey.”

You take a glance at the square clock sitting under the TV: it’s now a little past 2 a.m. “Love, you said you couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t with you,” you run a thumb across her soft cheek while looking deep into her eyes, “do you think you can sleep now that I’m home?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath and smiles after. “When you’re with me, I can conquer the world, love.” You put on a sad face. “If you’re busy conquering the world, then who would I be cuddling every night?” She playfully slaps you in the chest. “Oh my God, stoooop,” she fans her red face with both hands, “anyway, yes, I can sleep now that you’re here.”

She opens her arms wide open while her beautiful eye smile is forming on her face. You lift her up with little trouble and walk towards the bedroom with her. “My God, you’re so beautiful, honey,” you let one more praise fly out of your lips. She accepts the praise with a giggle and returns it in the form of a peck on your cheek.

You let her down from your arms and move towards the wardrobe to find something to wear to sleep. You know that your wife likes seeing you undress, so to accommodate that, you take off your clothes in front of her. “You age so well, love,” she bites her lip sexily. You ask if she’s in the mood for sex: “sorry, love, not today.” “It’s fine; it’s not like we’re running out of time” you grab a pair of shorts from the wardrobe and put them on, “let’s just cuddle and go to sleep, okay?”

Yooyeon moves to the center of the bed and taps the empty spot next to her with a grin on her face, “over here, my love—right next to me, your lovely wife.” Your wife is indeed lovely; this is a verifiable fact. You join her in bed and without any word said, she moves to rest her head on the side your chest and place a hand nearby. You hear her yawning, a sign that she’s now ready to sleep—properly this time, with her husband’s arms around her. “I love you,” she suddenly says, “I hope you know that.” You roll over and get on top of her—yes, you know that she’s not in the mood for sex and that this is a very typical sex position, but this is necessary. “I haven’t the slightest doubt in my mind that you love me and I love you back,” you say to her, your tone serious but sincere, “I love you so, so, soooo much, Kim Yooyeon.” You haven’t addressed her by name like that in a while, so she is visibly surprised.

“Please lie down again, honey,” she says, “you’re going to make me horny if you stay like this.” “I don’t see the problem,” you shrug, “just say the word and I’m yours.” Yooyeon taps your cheek gently a few times, and that’s your sign that she’s really not in the mood for it at the moment. “Maybe later, honey, but not now—you need some rest first.” You lie down in bed and pull her into your arms again. “By the way, I’m skipping work today and tomorrow, love,” you say to her, “do you want to do anything?” She yawns audibly one more time. “I don’t know yet—I’ll tell you if I have ideas.”

Yooyeon is a morning riser; she’d rather wake up early and immediately start doing whatever she needs to than sleep in and not have enough time to do things. You, on the other hand, used to have the same habit as her, but after becoming a director, you often find yourself working past your bedtime, so you compensate for the lack of sleep by sleeping in. Thankfully, your wife never makes a big deal about the difference—she has used it to her advantage on a handful of occasions, actually. Last year, she woke up before 5 a.m. to make cookies for your birthday and finished just in time before you woke up.

Today, however, after not having seen her husband in almost a week, she’s opting to stay in bed, savoring the moment of having your scent in her nose and your warmth on her skin. You slowly wake up and see that your wife is still in the same position as when you closed your eyes a few hours ago: her face is on your chest and her legs are entwined with yours. “I love you,” you whisper to her, not expecting an answer. “I love you more,” she replies, surprising you.

“Honey,” she softly calls to you, “I’m tired.” You start massaging her arm even if you’re only partially awake. “You are, love? Can I help?” Yooyeon gathers her strength and moves to lie square on your body. “Just stay like this, please.” You put a hand on her back and move it up and down, just the way she likes it.

“Honey,” she calls to you, “can I ask what we’re doing for our anniversary?” You want to open your mouth, but the urge to yawn gets to you first. “What do you think about dinner at The Sapphire, love?” Yooyeon lifts her face off your chest and looks at you with a smile. “Yes, please,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to go there.” You apologize to her for not coming up with something grand for the 6th anniversary, but she rejects it. “As long as I’m with you, I’m down for anything. Without you, all I want to do is stay in bed all day,” she says.

“Wakey, wakey, my love,” she says, poking your cheek repeatedly to get you to wake up. You slowly open your eyes and look at her in the eyes. “Am I in heaven? Are you an angel?” Your wife slaps you lightly on the chest and covers her sheepish grin with a hand. “Y-yes, I-I’m your angel,” she looks away to hide her blush, “c-can you wake up, please? It’s almost 10, love.” With a grunt, you move to a sitting position with your legs hanging off the bed. Yooyeon takes the space in your lap, straddling you and placing her palms on your nape. “Love, can—erm—can we have some fun, please? I-I’ve missed you,” she requests shyly. “Sure, honey—one second, please.”

You inhale and exhale a few times to get yourself together and ready to please your wife. “C’mon, honey,” she urges you, getting impatient, “you haven’t touched me in 10 days.” You burst out laughing. “10 days? Really?” Your wife puts on a pout. “Look at that calendar, honey,” she points at a calendar hanging next to the mirror, “I bought a new calendar to keep track of our sex life.” You look at it and see that there are indeed 10 X marks on it, from the 1st to the 10th; three of them are in black and the rest are in red. “What’s with the red and black marker?” She explains that she’ll use a red marker for when you’re not at home and a black one for when you’re at home but have no sex. “That’s interesting,” you peck her once on the lips, “are we ready, then?” “That’s my—ah!”

Yooyeon didn’t expect you to move that fast, and now she finds herself lying in bed with you hovering closely over her. Your deep gaze overwhelms her, forcing her to look to the side. “Are you okay, love?” You peck her exposed cheek gently. “Do you want to change your mind? It’s okay if you do.” She shakes her head rapidly. “Sorry, love, I just got reminded of our first time.” What a great and special time it was; the both of you had saved yourselves for marriage and was each other’s first time almost 6 years ago. “I remember how nervous you were, love,” you show her a gentle smile, “we hugged for almost an hour because you weren’t ready for it, remember?” “I’m so sorry for that, love,” she finally makes eye contact with you, “I don’t know why I was so hesitant—hell, you’re my husband, not my boyfriend.” You tell her that she has nothing to be sorry for: “even if we hadn’t had our first time right there, it would’ve been completely fine.”

“I am glad that you’re of that opinion,” she grabs your hand and places it on her thigh, “now please, let’s start, love.” You run your hand up and down her thigh for a moment, enjoying how soft it is. “I love you, Yooyeon-ah,” you refer to her the way you used to, surprising her again. “I love you too, Harvey-oppa,” she replicates the gesture, referring you to by your other name—the name your dad gave you.

You and Yooyeon always start sex by kissing (sometimes going as far as tongue-wrestling when you’re extra thirsty), and today is no different. You come in for a kiss, and your wife welcomes you warmly. She likes placing her hands on your cheeks when kissing, and you like the way her soft hands feel. “Love,” you break the kiss momentarily, “you’re so damn hot.” Yooyeon knows that she’s very attractive (there were plenty of reasons why people called her the goddess when she was in university) but sometimes, she’s too shy to admit it, and that’s where you come in: you’re the husband who will never get tired of praising her beauty—let it be known, however, that beauty isn’t all she’s about.

Your wife responds by lowering the thin shoulder straps of her nightgown, partially revealing her breasts. “Oh, I know, honey,” she winks, “you’ve told me that so many times in the past few years.” You chuckle slightly in amusement. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to be with you, love.” She gives you a fleeting kiss and tells you that the feeling is mutual, which is amazing to hear.

Yooyeon continues lowering her nightgown until her breasts are fully out in the open. You latch your mouth onto one of them and place your hand on the other, earning a mix of gasps and moans from her. “I-I wish they were bigger for you, hon,” she utters. The shock puts you to a halt. “That’s very uncalled for,” you say, your tone firm, “I didn’t marry you for your bodily assets, my dear wife.” She shuts her eyes when she feels your hand squeezing her breast. “B-but still, I—” You cut her off with a quick kiss, and while you’re there, you snake your tongue into the space in her mouth and fight her tongue.

You pull away from the embrace and pull your wife into a sitting position. You then move to sit behind her and wrap your arms around her body. “Look in the mirror, dear,” you point at the mirror that’s hanging right in front of you, “tell me what you see.” Yooyeon scans her reflection, her gaze going up and down from her head down to her toes. “I-I’m pretty,” she utters softly, “I-I look sexy right now.” You sneakily put your hand on her crotch and start rubbing her over her panties. “There you go,” you praise her, your voice gentle, “now, let’s never say such thing again, okay?” “Ah, ah—o-or what?” She dares challenge you. “Wha-what would you do if I said such thing again?” You bite the side of her neck lightly, earning a surprised yelp from her. “I will tie you to each corner of the bed and not touch you until you say sorry.”

You increase the intensity of your fingers’ movement on her crotch, and you notice that she’s starting to wet her panties. “H-honey,” she calls to you, “c-can I take off my panties, please?” You don’t answer her, and instead, you start rubbing more aggressively. “Oh, oh, oh,” she’s letting out moans freely, “y-you’ll make me cum, honey.” You started doing this to warm her up, but if she wants to cum, then she’s free to do so—in fact, you’ll gladly make her cum.

She uses one hand to hold your hand that’s busy stimulating her and while the other reaches for your nape. She then leans back against your chest and hands over the control of her pleasure to you—submissive as always. “Honey, please—oh, God, please, that’s so good, honey.” You can tell that she’s enjoying this; not only is she moaning freely, but she’s also rolling her hips around. “P-please, take off my panties—I’m begging you.” She sounds desperate enough for it, so you grab the waistband and pull down her panties recklessly, not worried about whether it’s properly off or not.

Yooyeon screams from the top of her lungs when your fingers are directly on her nub, finally getting what she’s been begging for. “Yes, yes, like that, hon,” she eggs you on, “please, please!” You put your mouth close to her ear and lick it, adding a dose of tease to the stimulation. “Cum for me, baby,” you whisper in a low voice, “cum for your husband like the good wife that you are.” To increase your chance of making her cum, you place your other hand on her left breast, alternating between massaging and tugging it.

Your wife lets out a very loud scream and lifts her butt of the bed as juice gushes out of her core—that’s her first orgasm in 10 days (because she doesn’t touch herself, ever), all thanks to you. You remove your hand from her crotch and place it on her stomach, gently rubbing it as she rides the high of orgasm, moaning oh-so-sensually as she does. “Good, baby, good,” you praise her, “such a good wife, aren’t you?” You notice that your wife is getting limp, so you lean backwards against the headrest so that she can lean against your body more comfortably.

“Oppa,” she calls to you, still weak, “thank you so much—I love you.” You peck her cheek from the side and tell her that you love her more. “How are you feeling, love?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath to compose herself. “I feel great,” she sighs, “you don’t know how desperate I’ve been, hon.” She takes off her nightgown and tosses it onto the floor, she then does the same with her panties. “That’s much better,” she says.

You spend a few more minutes just chilling; your wife’s heartbeat has returned to its normal pace, and she is now calm and collected, just like she usually is. That is, until she’s reminded of something: “honey, what about you?” You didn’t know that you were drifting to sleep again. “Huh? What about me?” Yooyeon slaps your thigh lightly, mildly annoyed. “Get your head in the game, hubby,” she says, “you haven’t cum yet.” You let out a yawn first before responding. “That’s where you come in, no?” Yooyeon turns her head to peck you quickly. “Of course, I’m your wife.”

With a small grunt, your wife moves away from your body and gets on her hands and knees in between your legs, your cock pointing right at her face. “May I, honey?” You give her your approval in the form of a nod, and she starts moving her head closer to your tip. Without breaking eye contact, she parts her lips and takes you in her mouth. “That’s good, love,” you put a hand on the back of her head and pet her gently, “you’ve gotten so good at this, haven’t you?”

It's not an empty praise; Yooyeon from 6 years ago wouldn’t even touch your penis, let alone put it in her mouth. It took her almost two years to muster up the courage to give you head—shout out to Kotone, your friend Yunho’s wife, who convinced her to try it. You still remember the first time she took you in her mouth. It happened around a week before your 2nd anniversary. She had her lips as far apart as possible and slowly moved her mouth along your length, gagging multiple times in the process. Fast forward a few years later, and she’s now much better at it. She’ll even give you head when she’s either not in the mood for regular sex, or when she’s having her period. She’s turned out to be crazy like that—she just needs a little push sometimes.

Your wife notices that you’re not paying full attention to her (because you were too busy recollecting the past), so she bites your shaft slightly to retaliate. “Fuck!” You let out a profanity when you feel it. “You didn’t have to do that, love.” Your wife removes you from her mouth and pouts. “If you’re not paying attention then I don’t want to do it.” You take a deep breath and apologize. “But do you know what was in my head?” She tilts her head in confusion, so you explain to her that the memories of your first time getting a blowjob from her were returning to you and that you were deep into reminiscing it. “Really?” “You know I wouldn’t lie about such thing, love,” you defend yourself.

Satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon returns to the task at hand and takes you in her mouth again. This time, to make sure that she knows that you’re paying attention, you maintain eye contact with her, only breaking it when it’s impossible for her to look at you because she’s too far down your shaft. “That’s good, love,” you praise her with pets on the head, “keep going, please.” Your wife winks at you and starts going along your length faster, and there’s no better way to egg her on other than throwing praises at her.

You don’t know how many times praises have escaped your lips, but it matters little; your wife likes hearing praises and doesn’t care if they’re repetitive. “Love, I don’t think I can last long,” you announce, a hint of sadness in your voice because you don’t want this to end so soon. Your wife removes you from her mouth, looks at you straight in the eyes, and whispers, “give me your cum, honey.” You nod, and she returns to her previous position.

You wait until she takes you in her mouth again. Once she does, you palm the back of her head and force her down your shaft. Unready, your wife gags instantly, and you can feel your arousal peaking thanks to the sound. “Be good, love.” You use this final stretch to fuck her mouth—nothing too rough, though; you don’t want to hurt your lovely wife.

“God, fuck,” are all you can come up with right now, as the wetness of her mouth proves to be very pleasurable for you. “Love, I really can’t hold on,” you announce again. Just before you blow, you retreat from her mouth. “Oh, God—fuck.” You close your eyes and ride the high of your orgasm as your cock sprays semen onto your wife’s face. In the meantime, your wife grabs your cock and strokes it, trying to get every last drop of semen out of your system. “Mm, mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “that’s it, honey—give me everything.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of your wife, whose smiling face is covered in cum. “Thank you, dear,” you don’t forget to thank her, “I’ve needed that so bad.” Yooyeon takes a bit of cum in her fingers and licks it. “Should’ve released in my mouth, but it’s fine,” she says. She probably just realizes how naughty she sounds, as she looks away to cope with the heat on her cheeks. You chuckle at her. “I know how naughty you are, honey; we’ve spent enough time together.” You peck her hair, precisely on the spot that’s not covered in cum. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

After getting cleaned up with your wife, you take her to sit on the sofa. She turns on the TV and begins scrolling through Netflix to find something to watch, while you sit on the other side of the sofa and pull out your phone to catch up with work. “Ah, what am I doing—my husband is literally next to me.”

She turns off the TV and moves to sit on your lap. You ask if you can help her with anything, your eyes still locked on your phone. Yooyeon reaches for your phone and slowly takes it from your hands. “Love, I’m here,” she says, “can I have your attention, please?” You show her a loving smile and kindly ask her to hand the phone back. “Let me text Jeon Yunho one time, love,” you say, opening your palm to receive your phone, “you’ll have my attention after that, I promise.” She looks particularly sad hearing you say that, but you do need to text Yunho; you need his help to make a reservation at The Sapphire, and for reasons you don’t know, he has exclusive access when it comes to making reservations at these fancy places.

After sending the text, you put your phone on the sofa and turn your attention to your wife. “Sorry, love,” you take her hands in yours, “I need help making a reservation for our anniversary.” Your wife shakes her head and tells you that it’s fine. As you’re about to open your mouth to say the next sentence, your phone rings. Based on the ringtone, it’s one of the important people in your life. You can tell that your wife is quite unhappy about getting interrupted, so you apologize to her, even if it’s not your fault. “It’s your mom, love,” you inform her, “one second, please.”

“Hello, this is Harvey,” you greet your mother-in-law, “you’re on speaker, mama.”

“Hello, Harvey”

“Can I help you, ma? Do you need anything?”

“I tried calling Yooyeon-ie but she didn’t pick up—where is she?”

Hearing that, Yooyeon jumps off your lap and runs to the bedroom to find her phone.

“Oh, she’s home with me—she just doesn’t have her phone on her. Is there anything you want to say to her?”

“No, not really. I just wanted to say congratulations—you’re celebrating your 6th anniversary soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are. I’m taking her to dinner this Thursday evening to celebrate,” you reveal your plan to her.

“Sounds great,” she says, “have you thought about getting her pregnant yet?”

The timing couldn’t get any better; Yooyeon was on her way back to you when her mom said that. You notice that she’s looking at you with a flat face that you can’t decipher.

“Erm,” you try to find an answer to the question, “we haven’t talked much about that, actually. We, uh, we’ll talk about that one day.”

“Is it you or her that doesn’t want to have children?”

You see Yooyeon pointing at herself, indirectly asking you to make her take the blame, but you can’t do that—you’re not throwing your wife under the bus, ever.

“It’s not that we don’t want children, ma. It’s just that we haven’t talked about it that much,” you deflect, defending yourself and your wife.

“Fine,” your mother-in-law gives up with little fight, “if you need help convincing my daughter to get pregnant, just call me—talk to you again soon, Harvey”

“See you soon, mama—stay healthy, please.”

You hang up the call and look at your wife. “Love, come here, please,” you tap your lap a few times. Instead of sitting on your lap like before, she gets down on her knees in front of you. “Love? Are you okay?” You’re unsure of her intentions. “F-forgive me, my love, b-but I’m not ready to have children yet,” she says while looking down at the carpet, “please don’t divorce me for that—please, tell me that everything is okay.” There’s no way you’d divorce your wife for not wanting a child, and you make it clear to her that it’d never happen: “I won’t leave you for that, love—trust me. I’m sure you have good reasons as to why you don’t want to have children, and whatever it is, I’m willing to accept it.”

Your wife slowly shifts her gaze upwards, and when you make eye contact with her, you show her a gentle smile. You tap your thighs again. “Come here, my love.” She slowly gets on her feet and moves to sit on your lap. She then hugs you and leans against your chest.

“Am I a bad wife, hon?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you say, “you’ve been the best wife I could ever ask for.”

“Am I a bad daughter, perhaps? Am I letting my parents down?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you repeat, “with respect to your parents, love, this life is ours, not theirs. We get to decide what to do, don’t we?”

Yooyeon stays silent, but you’re not satisfied until you get an answer. “Answer me, love.”

“Y-yes,” she says, “yes, we do.”

“Ding-ding-ding, that’s the correct answer,” you reward her with a peck on the head, “let me worry about your parents, love; I’ll tell them that it’s my choice to not have children, okay?”

Feeling satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon thanks you. “I love you, oppa,” she says, her voice soft, “I love you so much.” “I love you more, baby.”

You notice that a text just came to your phone. “Yunho needs some time to make a reservation for us, love,” you say, “if he’s successful—he should be, honestly—then we can go to The Sapphire on Thursday evening, just like we’ve planned.” “Great,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice, “I can’t wait, love.”

Before you know it, it’s now Thursday. You want to take Yooyeon on a little breakfast date today, so last night, you set up 3 alarms 15 minutes apart from each other to make sure you can wake up on time. When you wake up, though, she’s not in bed with you—even with alarms, you can’t beat her at waking up early; she’s just too good at it.

You collect yourself and start walking out of the bedroom. Your wife hears your heavy, sleepy steps from the kitchen. “Good morning, my love,” she greets you from the kitchen with a cup of (presumably) tea in her hands. You take the cup from her hands and put it on the counter. You then turn her around and hug her from behind, sinking your face in her hair. “Good morning,” you greet her back, “happy anniversary, wifey.” “Happy anniversary to you as well, hubby.” You’re not sure if she said Harvey or hubby—her accent makes those two words sound similar. You ask to make sure, “did you say Harvey or hubby?” “Yes,” she giggles, “it works either way, no?” True, it does work.

You hand your wife her cup again and let go of the hug. She asks if you’d like to have some tea, but you decline. “Let’s have breakfast out, love,” you say. “Sure,” she replies. She turns around with a smile on her face and points at the sofa. “Can we sit there, hon?” “We sure can, lovely.”

You sit on the sofa and your wife takes her favorite position on your lap. “My love, my honey, my world,” you call to her, “thank you for staying by my side all these years. I’m very thankful for you, love.” Yooyeon still gets shy whenever you praise her, which is cute, really. “Oh my God,” she covers her red face, “you’re always so sweet to me, honey.” She takes a deep breath and looks at you in the eyes. “I-I’m also thankful for you.” Her gaze stays strong and does not stray away from yours. “You’ve been the best husband I could ever ask for—I love you so much.”

After a quick kiss, Yooyeon tells you to take a shower. You lift her up and take her to the bathroom with you. “Ah, are we showering together?” She asks. You slap yourself internally for not asking first. “Oh, sorry, do you not want to?” “It’s not that,” she says, “it’s just that showering together takes longer.” That’s a valid point: “alright, you go first—I’ll wait for you on the sofa.” You lower her in front of the bathroom and turn around to walk towards the sofa again, but she stops you. “Look at me, please.” Your wife takes off her nightgown and shows you her nude form, and you notice that you’re getting hard—she probably notices it, too. Your eyes roam on her body, looking at her from top to bottom. “You look good, love—you always do,” you praise her, holding back your drool, “now go take a shower, please.” She mutters a soft thank you as she disappears behind the bathroom door.

After taking a shower yourself, you’re now ready to get breakfast with your wife. She says she wants to take a ride on the motorcycle, citing that she’s missed hugging you from behind while you ride around the city with her. She’s dressed for it, so you have no reason to say no, so here you are: riding around the city with your wife on the passenger seat, hugging you from behind as she wishes.

You arrive at her preferred breakfast spot after a short ride on Bob, your motorcycle, and your wife immediately jumps off in excitement—she’s so excited that she forgets that she still has her helmet on. “Not so fast, love,” you call to her via the intercom, “come here, let me take off your helmet.” She turns around comedically, and you can see her eye smile through the clear visor. You reach for the latch and lift the helmet off her head, making a small mess of her hair. She tidies it as much as she can, and you finish it by tucking a stray hair behind her ear. You then proceed to take off your helmet and walk with her inside the restaurant.

Yooyeon says that she’s been craving Singaporean-style butter toast, so she orders not one, but two toasts for herself—she even stutters when ordering, feeling embarrassed by herself. You, on the other hand, aren’t too interested in toasts, so you opt for congee with char siu beef, because congee in the morning is just too good to miss out on. After ordering, you find a table to sit at and talk to kill time.

Your wife pulls out her phone from her pocket. “Honey, your brother just texted me,” she says. “Which one?” You ask because you have twin little brothers. She scratches her head as she tries to remember his name. “Uh, erm, Jaehyun-ie—whatever his other name is.” You chuckle slightly. “Shane,” you remind her, “it’s Shane.” She puts on a grin as she nods. “Anyway,” she returns to the subject, “he said congratulations on the anniversary, and that he hopes to propose to Jiwoo by next month.” You’re glad that things are working out for your brother and his girlfriend; he’s a nice person and she’s an even better person. You tell your wife to thank him for the congratulations. “Also, tell him that I wish him a happy life with his girlfriend,” you add. “Alri—oh, he’s calling us, hon.”

Before she picks up the call, she moves to sit next to you. “It’s a video call, hon,” she says as she aims her front camera at the two of you, “I’m picking up in 3, 2, 1.”

“Hey, guys,” you greet Shane and his girlfriend, “good morning!”

“Good morning, hyung and noona,” he says, “congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys. We wish you eternal happiness.”

“Thank you, Shane,” you put on a thumbs-up, “how are you guys doing?”

His girlfriend takes the turn to speak, “we’ve been very good, oppa. I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

You put on a big smile, in approval of their relationship. “Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it.”

You then turn to your wife and hand the talking stick over to her. As soon as she starts talking to them, you see a waiter walking towards you with a tray full of food in his hands. You help him place the bowls on the table and ask Yooyeon to show them the food. “Yah, look at this,” Yooyeon switches to her rear camera and aims it at the food, “you guys want to join us?” Through the video call, you see Jiwoo slapping Shane’s thigh repeatedly. “Ahhhh, unnieeee,” Jiwoo whines cutely, “that’s Morningside, isn’t it? Oh my God, I’ve missed Morningside!” Jiwoo turns to Shane and whispers something to him, and he responds with a nod—they probably just set their next date. “We’ll join you next time, unnie,” Jiwoo says with an eye smile on her face, “we have other things to do today.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, they’re now ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” You and Yooyeon thank her for the kind words, and after exchanging waves, they end the video call. “Love, text Shane for me, please,” you say as you sprinkle pepper into your congee, “tell him to visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box.” She asks what it means, but you deflect: “he’ll know, love, don’t worry.”

“Let’s get changed, love,” you poke your wife, who is scrolling mindlessly through social media, “we need to leave soon.” She puts her phone down on the bed and moves to sit on your lap. “I have something special for tonight, hon; I hope you like it,” she says. “I’d say the chance of me liking it close to 100%,” you peck her on the lips, “get off me, please, love.”

Your wife returns the peck before jumping off your body, and in turn, the bed—and you follow suit after her. Based on how her face is decorated with a grin and pink cheeks, you can tell that she’s excited to show you what surprise she has up her sleeve. “Come oooon, get out of here!” She fixes her hands on your back and pushes you out of the bedroom.

You walk towards the spare bedroom that was turned into a walk-in closet a few years ago to find something nice to wear. You estimate that Yooyeon will be wearing a dress, but it’s the color of said dress that is the question. So, to anticipate, you grab some sets of jackets and trousers of different colors: navy, light grey, and dark blue. Along with them, you also grab a black shirt and a white shirt. “Do I need to wear a tie?” You tap your chin as you think about it. “Eh, probably not,” you decide, “I’m not in the mood." You then proceed to unlock your phone and say, “hey, Nudle, choose a number between 1 and 3.” After a short animation, the AI voice assistant picks 1. “Navy blue, it is.”

You quickly get rid of your T-shirt and shorts and let them pile on the floor. You then take the white shirt off its hanger and put it on. Before you put on your suit, you take a quick sniff to make sure it doesn’t smell when it’s being stored, and thankfully for you, it doesn't. “Oh, perfume—how did I forget.” You unbutton your shirt again and spray your wife’s favorite perfume on your belly button, chest, armpits, and nape. You continue dressing up and stand in front of the mirror to make sure everything is nice and tidy. “Heh, I look good,” you praise yourself, “no wonder Yooyeon-ie fell for me.”

After getting dressed up, you walk towards the bedroom and knock on the door. “Are we ready, love?” The door slowly swings open, revealing your wife, who is dressed in a fancy black sleeveless dress—she’s also wearing the necklace you bought for her. “Goodness me,” you feel your breath get taken away, “you look incredible, love.” Yooyeon reveals that she bought it when she went out with Kotone yesterday afternoon while you and Yunho played tennis.

“You like it, hon? I bought it specifically for tonight.” That’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it? “Of course, I do, love,” you scan her from top to bottom, “my God, aren’t you God’s most beautiful creation.” She smiles oh-so-beautifully thanks to your praise, and she rewards you with a peck on the lips. “Come on, hon,” she says, “I have a feeling that we’ll start getting horny if we don’t leave now.”

A staff member of The Sapphire greets you at the front door and asks, “are you here for a reservation?” You say yes and tell him your name, and after looking at his list, he turns to you again with a smile. “Follow me, please, sir and madam.” Your wife wraps an arm around yours as the two of you follow the staff into the restaurant to be taken to your table.

You follow him up the fancy stairs and onto the second floor, where a table costs more than any other part of the restaurant thanks to the privacy it offers. “I should thank Yunho for this,” you think. The staff stops at a table in the corner and politely points at it. “Would you like to have wine or champagne, sir and madam?” You decline politely, telling him that you and Yooyeon stopped drinking years ago—you’d like to have water in its place. “Of course, sir,” he says, “your course will start soon; please kindly wait.”

You show the staff a kind smile as he starts walking away, leaving you alone with your wife. “Love,” Yooyeon places her hands in the middle of the table, “thank you for taking me here—I love you.” You hold her hands and rub the back of them with your thumbs. “I love you more, love,” you say, “happy anniversary.” “Happy anniversary to you, too.” Your wife smiles at you lovingly, and you notice the way her eyes are glassy from unreleased tears.

“Love, listen to me, please,” you take a deep breath before saying your next point. “I know that sometimes I spend too much time working and come home very late but believe me that everything I do is out of love for you—you matter the most to me, love, and it’s been an honor for me to be able to provide for the two of us like this.” You don’t know what made you say that, but it just feels right at the moment. “I know,” her voice trembles from the emotions, “believe me, I know.” She pulls out a handkerchief from her purse and wipes a tear with it. “I always pray for you when you’re not at home, and when you are, I always want to show you how much I love you,” she adds.

You can tell that she wants to kiss you, but this round table is in the way. There’s no one else on this floor, so you summon her to you so that you can kiss her. She sits sideways on your lap—because her dress doesn’t allow her to sit like she usually does—and kisses you passionately, screaming at you how much she loves you. “I will always love you, Harvey,” she says, her eyes still glassy. “Did you say Harvey or hubby?” You crack a little joke to lighten the mood, earning a laugh from your wife. “Go back to your seat, love; the food will be here soon.”

“What are we having, honey?” Yooyeon asks. “Yunho showed me a list and here are the things I chose—you ready?” Before you can say the first thing, your wife shows you an open palm to halt you. “That’s alright, hon; I’m sure the server will tell us what we’re eating,” she says. You burst out laughing as a response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t have to wait long until the first dish was brought out to your table. “These are the sea scallops with avocado, frisée, and key lime vinaigrette, sir and madam.” A server sets two small plates on your table while another server pours water into your glasses. “Please enjoy, sir and madam; we are glad to have you with us tonight.”

After the servers leave your table, you raise your glass. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse,” you say. Your wife repeats the line and clinks her glass with yours. “I will never get tired of saying that line,” she says, “now, shall we?” Yes, we shall—let’s stop talking and start eating, hey? It’s what the two of you came here for.

You’re now back at home after a few hours of dinner. You sit on the sofa without changing your clothes, because you can’t be bothered to do so just yet. “Wait here, hon,” your wife enters the bedroom, presumably to get something she wants to show you.

She comes out of the bedroom while hugging a photo album. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “would you be down to go down the memory lane?” You nod, “sure, come and sit next to me, love.” She waddles cutely towards you, her face decorated with a beautiful eye smile and an adorable grin.

“First thing first,” she says as she opens the album, “your love letter to me, which you sent via Shane.” You feel your cheeks getting hot; you had Shane go to the post office and send a letter you had written to Yooyeon, in it a love confession and an invitation to dinner—the mail was under his name, too. “I wonder if Shane wrote Jiwoo a love confession like his brother did to me,” Yooyeon piles on. “Do you remember what you wrote, by the way?” You nod. “Of course I do—how can I forget? That was my last attempt at courting you.”

The letter went a little bit like this:

“Dear Miss Kim Yooyeon,

I’ve been meaning to share with you the thing that has been on my mind for quite some time.

From the moment we met, I felt attracted to you in a way that I couldn’t describe. Your sweetness, your sharpness of mind, and the way you perceive things around you have captivated me in ways that I never expected. In the short conversations we’ve shared, I found myself longing for the next one, and the next one, and the one after that. I eventually realized that there was something deeper than just mere excitement or admiration—it’s love.

With this letter, I would like to be honest and let you know that I cherish and treasure you more than words can express. Your presence in my life, despite being minimal (for now), has brought me so much joy and excitement, and I can’t help but think of a future together, where we share more memories, more laughs, and more dreams.

With that in mind, I would like to have the chance to spend more time with you in a special way. Would you like to join me for dinner? My family has a special place we often go to together, and I think that it would be such a great honor if you could be my guest. Perhaps we will be able to talk more about us and see how we might proceed from here.

Kindly let me know if you’re free next weekend and interested in this. Please understand that I want you to know how much you mean to me, and I look forward to hearing from you.

With affection and respect,

Han ‘Harvey’ Hyunjin.”

“I was so confused why you wrote your name like this,” Yooyeon says, placing a finger on your name, “I had always known you as Harvey.” You chuckle in response. “You’re not the first person to say that, love.”

Yooyeon then moves on to the picture on the first page. “Florence, honey.” She shows you a selfie of the two of you eating gelato while sitting on a bench. You sigh as you carefully tread the lane of memory. “We had fought a few days before we left for Florence, hadn’t we, love?” Your wife lets out a sigh too. “I saw a piece of paper on the kitchen counter, and I thought that was our divorce paper,” she says, “imagine my surprise when I found out that it was our plane ticket.” You wrap an arm around your wife and softly say, “I’m so sorry for that, love; I was so self-centered and didn’t take your feelings into account.” “It’s okay,” she pecks the side of your face, “I think we’ve learned a lot since that.”

“Next,” she looks at the other side of the page, “moving into this house.” The price of the house had gone up a few weeks prior, forcing you to sell your cars so that you could afford it. “You could’ve taken my money and kept the cars, you know,” your wife says, a hint of regret in her voice. “But that was your life savings, love; I couldn’t bring myself to take it,” you reason. “I know, but still, I wouldn’t have had a problem with that,” she counters.

She bursts out laughing when she sees the first picture on the next page. “Oh my God, I remember this like it was yesterday,” she points at the picture of her getting licked by a camel in Dubai. You join her in laughing as you recall the memory. “You were so startled that you fell backwards—if you hadn’t worn jeans back then, the camel guy would’ve seen your panties.” Yooyeon covers her face and shakes her head. “God, it was so close to being disastrous.” Aside from the photo, you also have a video on your phone of her sliding down a sand hill on a sled while screaming from the top of her lungs, which is both very funny and memorable.

Her smile fades instantly when she sees the picture placed on the 4th page—it’s a picture of you bearing your uncle’s pall with your twin brothers and dad, taken by Yooyeon from a distance. “Your uncle, hon,” she says, sadness woven in her voice. Your mom’s older brother passed away from cardiac arrest in the middle of the night, right when you were having sex to celebrate your 4th anniversary. You remember stopping abruptly when you heard the news through your smartwatch, thus ruining your and her mood. “What went through your head when we had to stop, love?” You ask, trying to understand what it was like for her. “Please don’t get mad, but initially I was so unhappy,” she says, “I had been so desperate for your touch, but then we had to end awkwardly like that.” You peck her head as a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry about that, love, but I’m sure you know what he meant for us.”

You move on to the final page of the album, which has two pictures on it. Placed on the top is a picture of Yooyeon holding a plate full of cookies with you sleeping in the background. Underneath that is a group selfie of you, Yooyeon, Shane, Jiwoo, and Shaun who was holding the phone (he was single at the time), taken after dinner at your house. Jiwoo made scones and they were so good that Yooyeon asked her to make one more batch before letting her leave. Jiwoo and Shaun ended up staying the night at your house because it was so late by the time she was done.

“Did you hear Jiwoo’s moans, by the way?” Your wife’s question stuns you momentarily. “Excuse me?” “Oh, you must’ve been asleep,” she chuckles, “I heard them when I was on my way to the toilet, and all I’m going to say is that Shane must be good at sex, just like his older brother.” “Shane, you—oh, my fucking God!” You palm your forehead, unsure of what to make of this information. You certainly did not need to know that your little brother was smashing his girlfriend while staying at your house. “Well, at least Shane and Jiwoo were happy,” you think.

“Speaking of moaning,” your wife moves to sit on your lap, “you haven’t made me moan yet—it’s time to rectify that, don’t you think?” You burst out laughing, amused by her stunt. Yooyeon from 5 to 6 years ago would beat around the bush whenever she wanted sex, but nowadays, she’ll say the craziest things to get you to touch her. “I never thought you’d be so crazy, love,” you say. “Can we start now, please? I-I’m impatient,” she says, her cheeks hot.

Your wife doesn’t want to have sex outside the bedroom, and as boring as it is sometimes, you don’t want to go against her wishes. With that in mind, you carry your wife by her butt to the bedroom. On the way there, you notice that her breathing is getting faster, so you rush to the bedroom and promptly sit on the edge of the bed.

“Love, are you okay?” You ask, concerned about how her heart is racing for seemingly no reason. She takes a deep breath before answering. “I-I have a feeling that I’m fertile today, a-and you might make me pregnant if you… y’know.” “Do you want to get pregnant, love?” She stays silent for a little while as she thinks of an answer—only to end up returning the question to you. “D-do you want me to get pregnant, honey?” “No, no, no, it doesn’t work like that,” you deflect, “this isn’t just about me, love; if you don’t want to get pregnant, then we’re not getting you pregnant.” She takes another moment of silence as she thinks about her options. “Don’t worry about your parents, love; this life is ours, not theirs, and we get to make our own choices,” you assure her. “Okay,” she says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get pregnant—not yet at least.” You assure her again that she has nothing to be sorry for and that you’ll never let anyone press your wife into getting pregnant.

“I love you,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere, “thank you for everything, honey.” You want to say it back to her, but you think that it’s better to kiss her instead. Without breaking the kiss, your wife holds your hand and guides it to the zipper on her back, signaling to you that she wants to undress. With little effort, you manage to unzip her dress all the way down and sneak your hand inside to feel her soft skin. She abruptly breaks the kiss and jumps off your lap. You ask if she’s okay, and she responds by putting on a sexy smile and turns her back against you.

You keep an eye on your wife as she wiggles her body around, and would you look at that: her dress falls off swiftly with little effort and pools around her feet, revealing her strapless bra and matching panties. She turns her head to the side just enough to see you wiping drool from the corners of your lips. “You’re never going to get tired of me, are you?” “No, I’m not,” you say, “have you seen yourself? Do you need to look in the mirror again?” Satisfied with the exchange, she turns around and kneels in between your legs. “What are we waiting for then?”

You can hear the machine-like hum from the AC, so you know that the only reason it’s getting so hot in this bedroom is because of your arousal. With your wife still kneeling on the floor in front of you, you free yourself from the constraints that are your jacket and shirt, and you see that your wife is smiling at you. You’re struggling to decide if her smile is sexy or beautiful, though—you know you like it, that’s for sure.

“Would you like to do the honors?” You offer your wife the chance to take off your pants. Without saying a word, she unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants. “May I?” How cute is it that she’s still asking for permission in this position? “Yes, love, you may,” you say. She puts her hands on the inside of the waistband and makes sure that she’s also grabbing your boxers. She gives you one more look and you respond with a nod. With a grunt, Yooyeon pulls your pants and boxers down, thus freeing your cock from its constraints.

She starts stroking your shaft, admiring the length and stiffness. “Wow,” she utters, “it’s crazy how it fits in my body every single time.” It seems like she said it without thinking, judging by how she jolts a little after. “Anyway,” she chuckles, “here I go.” Your wife parts her lips and eases you into her mouth—nothing too crazy for now; she’s not rushing to take you deep right away. That said, it’s still very pleasant for you. You place a hand on her head and pet her gently, praising her for the good work and encouraging her to keep going. “Yes, love,” you say, “that’s very good, baby.”

She does love hearing praises (especially from you) but at the same time, they make her get overexcited sometimes, so you keep an eye on her and make sure that she won’t end up hurting herself while sucking your cock. “Ghlk!” Well, speak of the devil; she just choked on your shaft. “Easy, love, easy; there’s no need to rush,” you try to calm her down—alas, it doesn’t seem to work. In the moment of panic, your wife stumbles backwards, thus removing you from her mouth, and starts coughing. You pick her up from the floor and make her sit on your lap. “It’s okay, love—it’s okay,” you rub her chest gently, “you’re okay, you’re okay. Let’s calm down for a second, yeah?”

After catching her breath, she’s now able to function properly again. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I-I got excited because you praised me.” “I had a feeling that’d happen,” you peck her on the lips once, “thank you for trying, love.” Yooyeon accepts your thanks with a smile, which makes you smile yourself.

You move to the middle of the bed with her, and that’s when she says that she’s ready to continue. “C-can we try something?” She asks, and you swear that you can see a floating bulb over her head. “We sure can, love; tell me what you need from me,” you say. First of all, she asks that you let her go and lie on your back, which is very easy to do. She then moves to sit on your lap and tells you the next part. “I will ride you like this, hon, but you can’t touch me at all,” she says as she takes off her panties, tossing it over her head after. “That sounds difficult, love—are you sure you’re not asking too much from me?” She lets out a laugh at your joke. “That’s your challenge, hon; do that and I’ll make sure it’s worth your while,” she promises, “now, hands above your head, please.”

You do as she asks and put your hands on the bed above your head. “I’m all yours, baby,” you hand over the controls to her. “That’s usually my line, is it not?” With your cock in her hand, she guides it towards her entrance and slowly takes you in. “Oh, God, this will never get old,” she says. It feels odd to not have your hands on her, but you’re committed to completing the challenge. Your wife maintains eye contact with you as she starts rolling her hips back and forth, basking in the sensation of being stretched by your girth. “S-struggling, hon?” “Yeah, and so are you,” you say, “I know—” Yooyeon cuts you off with a slap on the cheek. “Quiet, you; I’m calling the shots today.”

“Fuck, that’s naughty,” you think to yourself. You’re not offended or turned off by the little act of violence—it arouses you more, in fact; you’re as hard as you can get in her tight core right now. “I’m yours, mistress,” you rile her up by playing submissive. “Damn right you are,” she puts on a naughty smirk. She leans forward to hold your wrists down and she’s far enough forward that her tits are within licking range. “Be a good boy and make me cum, will you?”

After getting a nod from you, she starts fucking herself on your cock, going up and down at her own pace. It’s cute to see that she’s moaning so freely despite her tough and dominant front. On the other hand, you’re having so much fun right now; your wife is taking control after being submissive for countless sessions over the years, and you seriously hope that this isn’t just a one-time thing.

You notice that she’s starting to slow down and showing signs of exhaustion. “Is that all you have, mistress? All that talk and you’re tired already?” You taunt her, hoping that it’ll trigger her into speeding up again. “Fuck you,” she snarks, “fuck, this is harder than I thought.” You lift your head off the pillow just enough for your mouth to reach her tits and bite a nipple lightly. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you—oh, fuck, fuck!” You put on a teasing smirk, “what are you going to do about it, mistress?”

The teasing proves to somewhat work—she makes a move for your exposed neck and bites you lightly, making her annoyance at your disobedience known. “Apologize,” she demands, “you don’t want to get hurt, do you?” “N-no,” you adhere to her demand, “I-I’m sorry, mistress.” She pecks you on the lips, satisfied with your apology. “That’s a good boy.”

Your wife fixes her lips on your neck and starts moving her hips again, squeezing you with her tightness, and you can’t help but let out low-pitched moans right into her ears. You notice that she starts sucking on your neck harder. “Mark me, mistress,” you egg her on, “show everyone I’m yours.” Thankfully for you, she’s good at multitasking; not only is she trying her hardest to plant hickeys on your neck, but she’s also not letting up the bounces of her hips. “You’re so good, mistress—you’re so good to me,” you praise her, and you’re starting to wonder if this is considered being submissive.

It seems like she’s finally satisfied with her work on your neck, as she retreats from it and straightens her posture—she also frees your wrists and plants her hands on your chest. “Make me cum, my dear boy,” she reminds you of your task, “please, make your mistress cum.” Her wish is your command tonight, so you do your best to thrust into her from below, making her entire body bounce in the process. Your wife seems to approve this method, as the moans she’s letting out are louder and more frequent. “Am I doing it well, mistress?” “Yes—God, yes, you are,” she says with heavy pants, “please, please, I’m so close already.”

You pick up your pace and fuck her as fast as this position allows you—all the while you’re fighting the strong urge to lay hands on your wife. “Honey, honey,” she calls to you, “I’m about to burst—oh, oh, yes!” Her announcement removes whatever sign of exhaustion from your body and instead fuels the flame of your arousal. “Come on, love,” you subconsciously drop the name, “let’s cum—let’s fucking cum now.”

With a scream, Yooyeon lifts herself off your cock and sprays her juice all over your torso—some of it even hits your face, how nice. You take some in your fingers and have a taste—hmm, interesting taste. You look at your panting wife, whose eyes are closed and lips trembling, as her orgasm takes her to the seventh heaven. You guess that you’ve completed the challenge and are now allowed to touch her, so you take her in your arms and pull her into a cuddle.

“Did I do well, mistress?” You ask teasingly, not forgetting the name. “Ve-very well,” she shows you a thumbs-up, “I am spent, hon.” You ask if she liked taking the dominant role, and she covers her face in shyness. “I-I think I liked it,” she says, “y-you were cooperative too, hon.” You pepper her face with quick pecks, overwhelming her with them. “I aim to please, my love.” She puts her hands on either side of your face and comes in for a proper kiss, and you can really feel that she loves and appreciates you. “I love you,” she affirms, “I love you so, so, so, so, so much.” “I love you so, so, so, so, so, much more,” you say, chuckling after.

You excuse yourself to get some water and your wife asks you to grab her phone from the living room while you’re at it. “A missed call from someone named Jaehoon?” You furrow your eyebrows, a hint of suspicion in your head. “Oh my God, Jaehoon-ie,” you slap your forehead as the realization hits, “that’s just Shaun.” You almost forget that your wife saves you and your brothers by your other names on her phone.

You walk into the bedroom with her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Love,” you call to her, “a missed call from Jaehoon-ie.” After getting her phone back from you, Yooyeon calls Shaun back in case he has something important to say.

“Hello, noona,” he says, “were you asleep?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she looks at you with a naughty smirk, “your brother was smashing me so I couldn’t pick up the phone.”

“What the f—I didn’t need to know that, you know.”

Yooyeon hands her phone over to you, and in exchange, you hand the bottle over to her and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yo, hello,” you take over, “what time is it in New York, Shaun?”

“Uhh,” he takes a moment of silence, probably to check his watch, “around 9 in the morning—we just had breakfast.”

“Oh, right, you’re there with Seeun-ie, aren’t you?”

As soon as you say it, you hear a woman’s laugh from Shaun’s side of the call—wait, why is your wife crawling to you?

“Hello, oppa,” Seeun greets you warmly, “good morning from New York!”

“Good morning, cookie,” you say, still keeping an eye on your wife, who is now kneeling in between your legs like earlier—she must be up to no good. “So, what did you call us for?” Shaun is giving you an answer, but your focus is directed at your wife, who’s starting to give you head. You take a deep breath to concentrate and make sure you don’t arouse suspicion from your brother and his girlfriend.

“I have a feeling that you’re not listening to me, hyung,” Shaun notices, “is noona touching you?”

Well, you’re caught—might as well open the cards for everyone to see. “Yeah, she’s sucking me off,” you reveal nonchalantly, “talk to you guys soon.”

You hear a little surprised yelp from Seeun as you’re hanging up the phone but it’s whatever; you’re all adults. “You couldn’t wait, love? Are you that impatient?” You question your wife, who’s going up and down your shaft with her mouth. She gives you a little wink, and a naughty idea enters your mind. With her phone in hand, you open the camera app and aim it at her. “Say cheese, love.” As soon as she makes eye contact with the camera, you take a picture. You show your wife the picture of her with a quarter of your shaft in her mouth. You expect her to get mad and ask you to delete it, but she doesn’t—she just lets out a giggle. “I guess that’s our entry for this year,” she says, “anyway, I’m going again—don’t disturb me, please.”

You want to say that it was Shaun who disturbed the two of you, but the way she’s wrapping her lips around your shaft stifles your tongue. “That’s really good, love,” you praise her, “remember, don’t get too excited.” Yooyeon takes a deep breath through her nose before negotiating your shaft deeper into her mouth, possibly into her throat. “Fuck, you’re crazy, love,” you comment.

You see that she’s in a halt, so you ask if she’s okay. She pulls away momentarily to take a breather and possibly say something. “I’m okay, don’t worry,” she says, “how far do you think I can take you?” “Sorry?” You can’t believe your ears. “I want to see how far down I can take you, hon, but I think I need your help—you’ll need to push my head from behind.” “If I see that you’re uncomfortable, I’m pulling out, okay?”

Once the two of you have come to an agreement, Yooyeon parts her lips again and takes you in her mouth. You let her go as far forwards as she can while making sure that she’s not in stress or danger. It’s when she reaches halfway down your shaft that she stops. “Let’s try this, love, alright?” You place a hand on the back of her head and gently push her towards your crotch. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at this, love,” you let another praise fly out of your lips.

Yooyeon closes her eyes as more of your shaft enters her mouth, and she can feel the tip of your penis poking the back of her throat. “Stay calm, Kim Yooyeon; you can do this—do it for your precious husband”, her brain tells her. She plants her hands on your thighs as she tries her hardest to keep her jaws as wide open as she can. She tries looking up at you to find comfort, and you make sure to look her right in the eyes, smiling as you do. “You’re doing great, love—you’re so damn good at this,” you pet her head gently, not pushing her further down your shaft.

You notice that she’s getting limp, so you promptly retreat from her throat so that she can breathe. You pull her into your lap again and immediately spam her with praises. “You were so brave, love,” you say, “I admire how you’re willing to go the distance for my pleasure.” You don’t care if it sounds so self-centered, but it’s true in your opinion. “You’re my husband,” she rubs the side of your face gently, “your happiness is the top of my priority.” You thank her for that attitude, but you also assure her that she’s equally important in this relationship, and that she’s always welcome to express her desires.

“Is that so?” She asks the obvious. “Yes, that is so,” you state the obvious. “Well in that case,” she places her hand on her crotch, “you haven’t been here yet.” You ask if she wants you to wear a condom, but she firmly declines. “I’ll just take the pill after, it’s not a big issue,” she says. You ask if she wants to take control again, but she says no. “Being dominant is tiring, hon,” she says.

With that out of the way, you stand up and lower your wife onto the floor. You then turn her around and bend her over the edge of the bed. “Oh, I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” she says, letting out a chuckle after, “well, what are you—oh, God, honey.” You cut her off by plunging your cock deep into her. “Sorry, you were saying?” You tease her, but she can’t reply because she’s too busy moaning—she also doesn’t have to put on a charade like earlier; she just simply needs to act like she usually does: submissive and obedient.

You failed to notice that your hands were on her hips the entire time, so you remove them and put them behind your back. “Oh, oh—w-what are you doing? Where—ngh—where are your hands?” Well, it seems like she does like it when your hands are on her body. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you,” you say jokingly, “here, let me fix that.” You place one hand on her hip and use the other to deliver a slap onto her butt, making her scream. “Like this, love?�� You spank her one more time with your other hand. “Or maybe like this?”

Your wife squirms around as she tries to cope with the sting from the slap, but your big hands don’t allow her to move too much. “H-honey,” she says weakly, “s-stop hitting me, please.” You stop your thrusts momentarily to apologize and ease her pain by rubbing her butt cheeks gently. “I’m sorry, baby—was I too rough? Would you like to stop for a moment?” Seeing that she’s nodding, you retreat from her warmth and flip her onto her back. You then move her into a more comfortable position in bed, giving her the time to catch her breath and calm herself down.

After getting herself together, Yooyeon reaches her arms out, inviting you to enter her warm embrace. “To me, please,” she asks, her voice weak and quiet. You join her in bed and wrap your arms around her, not forgetting to apologize for being too rough on her. “I-I often forget how lustful you are for me,” she says. “You are my wife, love; if I’m not lustful for you, then something must be wrong with me,” you reply. It is true, though, is it not? If a man like you is married to a woman like her but isn’t interested in getting sexual with her, then that guy must be fucked in the head—and the narrator shares the same idea, too.

She stays in your arms for a few more minutes until she feels ready to go again—she begs you to not be so rough this time. “Certainly, love,” you say. You roll over so that you’re on top of your wife, and without being asked, she parts her legs and wraps them around your body. “You know,” she calls for your attention, “I always feel loved when we do it like this, oppa.” Hearing her refer to you by that term makes your heart flutter—it makes you feel like you’re 26 again, back when you were still trying to court her. “I do love you, sweetheart—I will always love you until you’re sick of me.”

She places a hand on your nape and pulls you down towards her for a kiss, and while your lips are connected with hers, you hold your cock in one hand and ease your way into her warmth again. When it first goes in, Yooyeon breaks the kiss and moans right against your lips. “I love you, Hyunjin-oppa,” she says in a soft tone, “you’re always so kind and sweet to me.” “Thank you, love; I try my hardest for you,” you replicate the soft tone, “and I love you more, Yooyeon-ah.”

You start moving your hips slowly, really savoring how warm and tight she is around your girth. “Love, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can last too long,” you say, hoping that she won’t be disappointed. “That’s fine; I don’t want to work too hard for your cum anyway,” she says. You move your head to the side and latch on her neck, and your wife’s moans get louder in response.

You can feel your cock twitching in her core, and she can feel it too. “C’mon, honey, give it to me. Give it to—oh!” With a grunt, you blow your load deep into your wife, just the way she likes it. You stay inside her and wait until all of your cum has come out of your penis. At the same time, your wife is letting out a very long moan, as your warm semen enters her body.

You’re starting to get drowsy for some reason, though. “Kim Yooyeon, I… love—”

You stir awake in the middle of the night when you hear a thud. In your half-awake state, you move your hands around, and the fact that you can’t feel your wife’s presence makes you jolt in panic.

You lift your head and see that your wife is on the floor while rubbing her knees, seemingly in pain. “Love, are you okay?” You ask, still unable to fully open your eyes. “I am, honey—ow, shit!” You ask what she’s doing, and she tells you that she was trying to get the polaroid camera from the wardrobe, but her legs were too weak, causing her to fall on her knees. “I will—” a yawn cuts you off, “I will get it for you, love.”

You gather your consciousness and get off the bed. You first help your wife and place her on the bed before heading towards the wardrobe to get the camera and film. You insert one film into the one-eyed machine and hand it over to your wife. “What are you doing with it, love?” Your wife claps her hands twice to turn on the lights and asks you to sit next to her. “Let’s take a picture, oppa; I don’t think a picture of me sucking you is appropriate to be displayed,” she says.

You chuckle in agreement with your wife. You move to sit next to her and rub your eyes to fully wake up. “Say cheese, oppa.” Yooyeon aims the camera at the two of you and presses a button. After a short while, the film comes out and she shakes it with all her might until the picture is clearly visible. “Happy anniversary, my beloved husband,” she says, love and affection woven in her voice. “Happy anniversary, my dear wife,” you reply.

After a quick kiss, you hold her hands in yours. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.” “Indeed,” she replies, “together always, until death do us part.” “Hey, that’s new—did you come up with it recently?” She slaps your chest lightly while laughing. “Come, let’s go back to sleep, oppa.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #triples smut #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

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neuvistar · 2 years ago

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JUST FOR TONIGHT.

— featuring ┊ dan heng x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊SPOILERS FOR HONKAI STAR RAIL. (?) dan heng’s dragon form bruh, hear me out on this one, oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, you grab dan heng’s horns as he eats u out like a mad man, um um um pussydrunk!dan heng me thinks, oh my days dan heng’s dragon form omyomymomygodsh, use of nicknames, overall suggestive content || 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n. bro god has not been on my side lately i’m not getting anything done I’m so sorry i have a life out of tumblr n sometimes i just poof, so i’m sorry but anyways i reached lvl 40 on hsr i need to touch grass me thinks also this is kidna short but i have an excuse i stopped n kept writing n stopped n kept writing n then rushed it n got lazy wooohoooo (oops)

✦ 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

“y—you want me to what?”

honestly, you should feel guilty for asking dan heng something so absurd, but it was worth it. i mean, how can he decline when he’s faced with a smiley you, all pretty and dolled up, eager for him to please you, and most importantly eager for him to absolutely ruin you. he was kneeling infront of you, those sweet pretty eyes of his gazing straight into yours, blazing with hunger. he leans forward as he slowly began to plant small yet gentle kisses on your thigh, the shy yet lustful look remains on his face. it’s clear that he's enjoying this.. far too much.

“..are you sure you want this?” he mutters in a soft, raspy voice as he stares at her exposed form, his dark eyes are practically burning with the desire he feels towards her as he grew impatient, wanting to taste you right here and now.

you nodded, reaching down to caress his soft dark locks as he melted in your touch, as red spread across his cheeks. “relax, of course i want this, i’m all yours anyway. why do you think i asked you in the first place?”

“i just don’t want to be rough with you. i don’t want to go too far or anything.”

you pause for a moment, the desire in your eyes growing as you smirk at him, slightly tugging on his locks as you gazed down at him lovingly, “what if i want you to be rough with me?” his dark eyes burn brighter, the fires of lust and hunger engulfing the man's soul as he sees how much you want him, craving him, how much you need him, god.. it only drives him crazy.

“fuck.. you’re getting me all riled up, angel.” dan heng bit his lip as you feel his fingers hook into the hem of your panties, slowly dragging them down before suddenly ripping them apart with his bare hands, letting you feel the cold air on your soaking cunt. “hope you can take everything i give you, baby. you’re a strong girl, aren’t you? you should be able to.”

he spread your legs as he held them down, feeling the wetness of his tongue on your slit. he was just getting started, yet sinful sounds came out of your mouth already. you could feel the softness of dan heng’s skin as it rubs against your own, shoving his tongue inside your hole. not a even a few minutes in and he was already slurping up your juices like it was his last meal. you were absolutely stunning in his point of view, he couldn’t get enough of how hot you looked, how hot you looked with the hem of your shirt in your mouth as an attempt to put a stop to the lead sounds you let out, cock throbbing in his pants at the sight. dan heng’s hands slide between your thighs pushing your legs wider apart, feeling your body shiver as his palms brush over your warm skin, a whimper of pleasure slipping past your lips. he was lapping at your juices like it was no tomorrow, rubbing his thumb on your bud at a harsh pace as he works wonders on your cunt, eating you out like some mad man, he wasn’t ashamed one bit. he wanted to ruin you, he wanted you to remember how good his tongue felt, how skilled he really is.

“danheng.. shit..”you reach down, running your fingers through his hair as your hands slowly run up towards his horns, back arching at how well he was eating you out as his tongue swirled around your bud, sucking and nibbling on it. you whined as you held onto his horns for support, feeling him grunt against you as low vibrations rumbled through your skin. he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t hold himself back. he interlocked his arms with your thighs, digging his face into your pussy even more, desperate and hungry for more.

“s—shit.. sweetheart. ‘keep doin’ that.”

he slid two fingers inside your cunt, a warm thickness that was almost enough to make you cum on the spot, overwhelming you with pleasure. he savoured your taste, he wanted more of it. he wanted more of you and your taste as he circled his tongue around your clit, fingers pumping in and out as they slid in and out of you, the lewd sounds of squelching filling the whole room as he crooks them perfectly, plunging them in your deepest areas as wetness began to coat around his fingers, indicating that your orgasm was close.

“d—danheng..”you tightened your grip around his horns, making him moan against your folds as you threw your head back. the feeling of your fingers shaking around his horns drove him to the edge, as if it made something within him snap in a millisecond.. he just love how soft your hands felt around his horns, groaning at the way his cock throbbed when you did so, palming himself gently through his pants. he looked up at you as he saw the way your head was thrown back, the way your legs spread even more as if it was asking him to eat you out even more, cheeks flushed and eyes rolling back to the back of your head, you couldn’t take it anymore. “dan heng.. c-can’t anymore— ‘m gonna cum, please!”

you tried pushing him off of you, which only lead him to tighten his grip around your thighs, pressing himself closer against your cunt as the flicking of his tongue never stopped one bit, he wanted more, way more, more than he was given. he wanted so much more of you, eating you out once wasn’t enough, he wanted to savour in your taste, he just couldn’t.. couldn’t get enough of you. dan heng wasn’t usually this hungry for you, but tonight was a whole different story.

“‘m gonna cum! gonna cum..!” you buck your hips against him, it’s happening once again, that feeling in your stomach. your aching pussy spasmed around his tongue, tightening around him so well so he could savour every single ridge of your insides gazing up at you as you cried out, reaching your orgasm as you squirted all over his face, panting heavily as the blush on your face reddened completely. dan heng pulled away from you, sliding his fingers out of you as well before licking his lips, wiping his cheek with a slight smirk. both of your thighs shook viciously, wetting the bedsheets underneath making a mess.

“look at the mess you made, baby.” he chuckled before leaning down once more, bringing his tongue down to lick your dripping slit once more. “it would be a such shame if you made even more of a mess, wouldn’t it?”

oh yeah, he wasn’t done with you. he wanted more alright.

#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა #dan heng smut #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr dan heng #hsr smut #dan heng <33 #dan heng in his dragon form bruh holy shit #pussy drink dan heng?? pussy drink dan heng!!!

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sir-sunawani · 1 month ago

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Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 4: Punishment

The older gentleman that measures you has such an air of professionalism, you don’t even care you’re almost completely naked. Save for a pair of ill-fitting underwear, you have on nothing else. He lets you stand near the fireplace and works quickly, stating numbers to a younger assistant who has kept his back turned since you were requested to disrobe.

Crocodile watches the whole thing, he may be working at his desk no one doubts he is paying due attention to the process.

“All done. You may redress, young Miss, thank you.” He instructs with a small bow before gathering his things. “I’ll have a catalogue brought in and you can choose what you like.”

You freeze, the large shirt you’d been wearing falling into place only because of how large it is.

“Choose?” You question, looking from a seemingly disinterested Crocodile to the tailor. “I will have options?”

The sound of Crocodile’s pen stops, the tailor going pale at the sudden silence. Something about it unnerves you too, but you aren’t sure why.

“Yes.” Crocodile answers for him, taking a deep drag of his cigar before letting out a long trail of smoke. “You may choose whatever you want.”

Logically you understood what that meant, but you were struggling with the practice of it. You’d never decided something for yourself. Your attendants dressed you, and your clothes were decided by someone beyond even them. Your meals, your breaks, when you slept - you existed within the borders someone else set.

The only thing you ever had the right to enforce was that no one was allowed to touch you. Even the tailor had taken care to barely even graze your skin with his gloves despite the closeness with which he worked.

You decided not to overthink it, and sat down near the fire when the tailor returned with a catalog.

“If you have any questions, I am at your service, Miss.” he says, stepping back and letting you have some space.

You sit and flip through the catalog. There are all sorts of items listed, from uniforms to evening wear. When you reach the accessories, gloves and the like, you go back to the start.

“Do you have things that are easy to put on?” You question as flatly as you can. Asking a question at all feels demeaning, but you don’t want to pick something with complicated clasps on accident.

“Yes Miss. There are a couple sundresses available, which are generally just pulled on over one’s head. Button-up shirts have easily accessible buttons down the front of the garment, you may like those as well.” He turns the pages of the catalog slowly, pointing out various items.

He speaks evenly and carefully, nothing given away in his tone if your questions are absurd or not. It puts you at ease, and you realize after some time that you must have demanded this man’s attention for at least an hour, and he never faltered. With clothes decided he steps over to Crocodile’s desk, and the two finalize things.

You’d chosen two sundresses, two pants and two shirts. The tailor told you that undergarments would be provided and you decided not to point out that while you knew what under clothes were, it’d been so long since you’d been permitted to wear any you weren’t sure you wanted to.

The whole affair started after lunch, and was done by dinner.

For you the day had been long, aside from eating and dealing with the tailor you did nothing else but lounge on the small couch and watch the fire. You didn’t want to walk the grounds in nothing but his shirt, and you didn’t even really want to leave the room in the first place. It was comfortable now that you’d gotten used to it.

Since he took his meals at his desk, you took yours in the room as well. People came in and out in a near steady stream - the only break for him had been while you were being measured.

“After dinner, you’ll have your lesson.” He says when no one else is left in the room with you.

“My lesson?” You question and feel yourself stiffen as you remember before he says it.

“Proper and efficient hygiene.” He answers flatly.

“Right, I… I mean, I didn’t do anything today, I’m hardly in need of a shower.” It’s a weak argument, but you don’t want the eight foot tall alpha to be in the shower with you again. His scent has been enough from this distance.

“You’ll still do it.” He asserts. You should let it drop there, you know, but something coils between your legs at the idea of him being naked again, and it makes you nervous.

“You’ll be standing outside and in-instructing me?” You know the answer before you ask, but you can’t help it.

“No. Tonight I will be cleaning you. Tomorrow you will repeat what I’ve done.” You can hear a tinge of irritation in his voice, or maybe you imagine it. He sounds irritated randomly throughout the day as it is.

“It wouldn’t be very efficient.” You barely say the words, and Crocodile doesn’t even acknowledge what you know he heard. You hear him get up, but you don’t want this. It felt far less humiliating to have the attendants clean you, than it feels to have someone teach you something you should know.

And you do know it. You know what is done and how, you just haven’t had to do it yourself.

“I’m not even dirty it-!” You suck in a breath as your wine glass is lifted and splashed into your face. There’s silence between you and Crocodile, who is carefully and with graceful practice, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm.

“Wuh-why?” You manage to ask, red wine dripping down your skin.

“You needed a reason.” He says curtly. “Now you’ve ruined my shirt, stained my sofa, and wasted my time. You will be punished, and then you will be cleaned.”

“Punished?! You’re the one who threw the wine around!” You shout, pointing at him and watching in slow horror as the wet sleeve of your shirt whips around and flicks wine onto his vest.

“I’m… sorry, I’m sorry, I did not mean to do that, I -.” Panic rises up in your voice, but he cuts you and your panic off.

“You are my guest, and have been treated as such.” His voice has an edge that sits at your throat. “And to repay that, you act like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry, I-.”

“Silence.” He snarls and you press your lips together. You weren’t ever punished, you didn’t know what to expect. You were sure he wasn’t going to kill you, and it was unlikely he was mar you in some way. You were too valuable, but you didn’t know what a pirate and an alpha would do to you.

“If you do as you’re told, it will go better for you. Take off that ruined shirt and stand by my desk.” He commands and you do as you’re told.

Crocodile walks over and opens his door just a little, saying something to someone outside it before closing it and locking it.

“Put your hands flat on the desk and bend over.” He orders, and you do as you’re told, or you think you have. He presses you down until your chest is flush against the desk and waits until you put your palms flat against the desk.

“If you remove your hands from my desk, I will carry you out of this room and take you into one of the big tents.” He explains, hand still in the middle of your back. “Hundreds of pirates will watch me continue your punishment. Do you understand?”

“No,” you cry, fear starting to overtake you. “No I don’t know what a punishment is, I don’t understand!” Sobbing you keep your hands on the desk. “My hands, my hands stay on the desk!” You almost whimper the words, smacking your hands on the desk. “I understand that.”

You hear a metallic sound, thin metal against thin metal and realize he’s removing his belt. “Spread your legs and lift your ass. I’ll show you what a punishment can be.” He commands.

You do as he asks, stomach in knots, body shivering. You’re afraid you’re going to throw up onto his desk and if you do that it’ll just be worse. You’re already staining pages with tears and the wine that was in your hair.

“Please, I’m sorry,” you can barely form the words against tears and fear, but it doesn’t matter. The leather of his doubled over belt cuts through the air and bites into the curve of your ass, licking a painful strip against your skin. You shriek, more from surprise and fear than the actual pain, and he pushes you harshly back against the desk.

“HANDS.” He growls, and you put them on the desk, shivering and sobbing. “It’s alright. You didn’t know, and it took you by surprise.” He admits, his own hand almost soothing against your back until you calm down a little.

“But now you know. Keep your hands in place.” He warns.

Crocodile’s POV

Fuck, you smelled delicious once you became afraid. Your scent was good all the time as far as he was concerned, but right now you were divine. He wanted to shove his tongue into your cunt and taste the scent that was driving him half mad right now.

He brings the belt down a second time, eyes focused on the impact of leather against your skin. He wanted to make your ass red and puffy, but he didn’t want to risk any cuts or other more permanent marks. Your flawless skin was going to stay like that until he sank his teeth into your neck.

You were going to be his. You already were, you just didn’t know it yet. You were his the second Buggy had the intelligence to bring you to him. He would have to reward the idiot clown.

He pauses after the third strike, setting the belt down and putting his hand on your ass.

“Tell me why you’re being punished.” He says, his voice almost tender compared to earlier.

You sob and hiccup, this new experience for you is more fear than pain. He’s sure you know what punishment is as a concept, but it’s very possible this was your first direct experience of it.

“I… I got wine on your vuh-vest.” The scent rolling off you has his pants uncomfortably tight. He wants to split you in half with his cock, burying his knot into your cunt until his own spend bubbles out past the tight fit.

He smacks your ass with his bare hand, delighting in the feel of your skin, hot against his palm. You yelp, keeping your hands on the desk. He appreciated your fear of the tent - he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

“And?”

“And… and I was a buh-bad guest. I’m sorry.” You cry.

“Good girl.” He says. “You learned, and this is so you don’t forget. Be sure to say thank you after each one.” He warns.

Your POV

His hand lands, sharp and heavy against your ass cheek, the impact stings.

“Four!” You cry.

“One.” He corrects. “Don’t worry about before now.”

Sniffling you nod. His voice had been so gentle once you admitted your mistakes that you didn’t want him to talk to you the other way again. That was scary, this was reassuring.

Another heavy smack on the opposite side.

“Two,” you gasp as he grabs your stinging cheek in his massive hand, squeezing it. The pleasure from the massage chases behind the harsh sting and addles your mind.

“You won’t be a bad guest again, right?” He questions, punctuating it with another slap. Shaking your head you count out, the sound turning into a soft mewl as he grabs your cheek again.

He repeats the action, but after you count you can’t stop the breathy, “No,” that slips between your lips.

“No?” He inquires, a dangerous tone in his voice. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“No! No, I - I mean�� I …” you almost start crying again. “I… It feels weird.”

He slaps your ass cheeks in quick succession, raining down blows so fast it is impossible for you to count. Just as it starts to really hurt he stops, grabbing one red and stinging ass cheek and forcing a sound out of you, that you hadn’t expected to make.

The lascivious sound is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry!” Panic rises in your throat, but Crocodile just turns you over, laying you on your back, your legs dangling off his desk.

The look on his face has you frozen in place. He looks like he’s going to eat you. The golden amber eyes are slit tight, burning as they look down at you.

“You’re turned on?”

“I’m sorry!” You cry, tears running down the side of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - I learned, I swear I learned! I didn’t know, I -!”

Crocodile’s POV

His hand over your mouth quiets you. You shiver beneath him, the look on his face sending an odd heat through your body and once you calm down a little he moves his hand away from your mouth.

“You’re going to get your wish,” he says, his voice dripping with restraint. “But only because it may be after midnight before I’m sated.”

He pushes your leg up onto the desk, pining it in place with his hook. You scream, covering your mouth as you realize he hasn’t impaled you, just restrained your leg with his hook. Terror is making your scent stronger and he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs your other leg by the ankle and pulls you open, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. The smell puts visions in his head of him truly devouring you like a small shivering rabbit.

“No, no please!” Panic claws at your voice and you put your hands over your mound. “Don’t-don’t! You’ll-you’ll lose money if you take it! I won’t-.”

“Silence.” He forces it upon you and you fall silent, hands still covering yourself. “Move. Your. Hands.”

Your face flushes down to your shoulders, but you do as he commands.

“What value you have to the gods doesn’t matter to me.” He says, kneeling down between your legs. “They’re beneath me, so it only matters what worth you have to me.”

The tip of his nose grazes the hair of your pussy, and he breathes in deep, letting the sweet scent soak his lungs before his tongue parts your labia and the tip flicks against your clit. You tense and squeak, unable to close your legs, body shivering for all manner of reasons.

The taste of you is a delight he couldn’t dare name, but the single lick isn’t nearly enough. You’re going to enjoy what he’s going to do to you, even if you haven’t been good enough to truly earn it yet.

Your POV

The first gentle lick sends a jolt through you, but you don’t have time to say anything before his mouth begins to devour you again. His lips press in deep, parting yours and letting his thick tongue press against the slick between your folds. The hot wet muscle sends a strange sensation through you, and you squirm uselessly against his hold on you.

“What - wait, I - whaaaaaat’s this?” You whine, as he licks heavy against your clit.

“Consider it part of your punishment.” He grumbles into your skin. His voice is soothing to your ears, but his actions have you on edge.

Another heavy lick and you can’t stop yourself as your body rolls from the pleasure that ripples through you. Crocodile growls when you move, but doesn’t stop licking your cunt. You reach out, putting your hands into his hair and the growl shifts into a purr.

The new sound relaxes you from head to toe, and with less energy spent on holding you down Crocodile focuses on eating you out. Hungry lips and a heavy tongue urge more and more slick from you, and drag thick, heady panting moans from you.

The airy moans falling from your lips turn into whines as the pleasure builds. You’re squirming beneath him, but since you’re holding onto his hair you’re not squirming away from him.

“Please, please,” you huff, feeling a delicious pleasure coil between your thighs. You’d never orgasmed before. You’d come close, but you weren’t permitted that kind of pleasure outside of your heats, and during them you couldn’t attain it by yourself.

What you knew well was the climb to that elusive precipice.

“I’m close, I’m close, please, please, I’m sorry, please let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t - won’t argue again, please, please!” You cry, your body shivering as he brings you closer and closer.

Just before you tip over the edge, Crocodile shifts, plunging his thick tongue into your vagina. He releases your ankle and rolls his thumb against your clit as his tongue curls inside you.

An unintelligible sound is ripped from your lips as pleasure pulls taut every muscle in your body. You can feel yourself throbbing against his thick tongue, each twitch of your own body sending another merciless jolt of pleasure through you.

Crocodile doesn’t stop. Some addled part of your brain thinks that’s fitting, but it does you no good as your overstimulated body jerks and curls.

“Please,” the word shivers from your lips as Crocodile withdraws his tongue from your twitching cunt.

“One more.” He husks, eyes soft and out of focus. “You taste even better than you smell, little starling, and I will drink once more at least.”

He pushes your leg back again, engulfing your breast with his hand and holding you in place as he licks heavy into your slit. All you can do is hold onto his arm as he drinks his fill bringing you to the edge a second time.

This orgasm soaks into your body, making your heart rush even as your muscles seem to relax against it. The pleasure rolls your eyes back and loosens your grip on his arm, letting him press your body into an immovable hold even more than before. Sweat begins to slick your skin and his tongue moves away from your cunt, licking the salt and thin sheen from the crease of your hips.

“Cr-Crocodile… please,” you paw at his arm as he licks up the backside of your thigh.

“Mercy then, perhaps.” He purrs, and his teeth look so sharp, and his eyes look so reptilian, and the scent of sand and honey that surrounds him is thick and sticky, and you can almost feel it pulling your cunt open for him.

“Now there is plenty of reason to wash you.”

#reader insert #x reader #omega!reader #sir crocodile #one piece #mdni #yandere #a/b/o #omegaverse #Starling

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my-religion-greek-myth · 2 months ago

Text

Freedom far away - H

I think I'm nearly there; the end! Though, I feel personality changes in as I keep write Agatha and Rio ... SSSSHT

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

The longer you stayed, the more the strange tension that had first hung between you all began to dissolve, replaced by an ease that both comforted and unsettled you. It wasn’t the answers you had come for, but it was something else—something warmer, something real.

Rio sprawled out on cushions on the wooden floor, her head propped up by her hand as she laughed at something Agatha had said. The sound was bright, almost childlike in its glee, though there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken. Agatha, in contrast, sat with her legs crossed, her expression carefully composed, though the occasional smirk betrayed her amusement.

"You two are impossible," you said, shaking your head as you watched them bicker over some trivial detail. "Sometimes, I don’t know how you can stand each other less love each other."

"Oh, it’s not standing—it’s thriving," Rio quipped, her dark eyes glinting mischievously as she threw a casual arm over the back of a mountain of cushions. "Agatha keeps me on my toes, and I keep her�� entertained."

"Entertained?" Agatha scoffed, raising a brow, not taking her eyes off her book. "Try exasperated."

"You love it," Rio teased, her grin widening as she reached over to tug at Agatha’s sleeve playfully.

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, and for a moment, you caught a flicker of something raw and unguarded in her eyes. She quickly masked it with a roll of her eyes, brushing Rio’s hand away with feigned annoyance. "You’re incorrigible," she muttered, though the corners of her mouth curved into a faint smile.

You watched them with a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Their connection was undeniable—intense, magnetic, and filled with a depth that made your heart ache. You wanted to be a part of that, to share in the love they so clearly had for each other. Your cheeks burned as you took it all in. Their ease with each other was too different the rigid decorum you were accustomed to, and yet it only deepened the strange love you felt growing for them.

Rio tilted her head, clearly sensing your lingering look. "Still reacting like this after everything, pretty lady?" she teased, her grin widening. "You’ve already chased us down, asked all these questions, and even admitted you love us. Surely, a little casual behaviour isn’t going to scare you off."

You couldn’t deny the lingering culture shock of seeing Rio lounging so casually, her feet almost carelessly close to the table. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head at your own absurdity.

"You’re so different, and sometimes it feels like I’m the one out of place here."

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, her smirk deepening as if she found your flustered honesty amusing. "Out of place?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Doll, you’re sitting here with us, aren’t you? That’s hardly out of place."

Rio stretched out further, her posture even more relaxed as she flashed you a knowing grin. "Exactly. You fit in here more than you think, pretty lady."

You glanced between them, feeling the tension that had been knotting in your chest begin to ease. Their casual confidence was infectious, and though part of you still felt out of your depth, another part began to wonder if they were right. Maybe you weren’t as out of place as you feared.

Shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh. "You two… I don’t even know how to describe it."

"Describe us?" Rio interjected, her grin widening with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, please do. I’m dying to hear how utterly charming we are."

"Charming isn’t the word I’d use," you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Frustrating might be more accurate."

"Frustratingly charming," Rio corrected without missing a beat, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "But go on, don’t stop now."

Agatha chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. "She’s catching on," she murmured, her sharp gaze flicking to you with amusement. "Doll, you might just surprise us."

"Do you two ever stop?" you asked, exasperation laced with affection as you leaned back in your chair.

"Stop what? Being devastatingly and frustratingly charming?" Rio asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence that only made her grin more infectious.

Agatha rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. "Infuriating is the word you’re looking for, doll," she said dryly, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

"Infuriatingly charming," Rio declared triumphantly. "I’ll take it."

Agatha let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rich. "Careful, doll. Keep this up, and you might actually start enjoying our company."

"Too late," you admitted without any hesitation. The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your cheeks flush under their combined gazes.

Rio’s smile softened, and for once, there was no teasing in her expression. "Well, that’s good," she said, her voice warm and genuine. "Because we’re starting to enjoy yours too."

A quiet laugh escaped you, and before you could overthink it, you stood and crossed to where Agatha sat. Without ceremony, you flopped down beside her, the cushion beneath you sinking slightly as you settled in. Your shoulder brushed against hers, and you couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of floral clinging to her.

Agatha arched a brow, her sharp blue eyes flicking to you as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Comfortable, doll?" she drawled, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Yes, actually," you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze with a small, teasing smile. "You make a good shield."

"A shield?" she echoed, amusement lacing her voice as she leaned back, closing her book. "From what, exactly?"

You didn’t answer, instead glancing over at Rio, who was watching the two of you with an expression that could only be described as delighted. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and she didn’t hesitate to shift closer, effectively sandwiching Agatha between you.

"Perfect," Rio said brightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. "Now I get to see you both up close. It’s like my birthday."

Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t move, though you noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders. After a moment, she let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning discomfort. "Honestly," she muttered, "if you’re going to crowd me like this…"

She trailed off, her arm lifting and draping casually around your shoulders. The motion was fluid, almost dismissive, but the weight of her arm sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. You stiffened, the warmth rising from your neck to the tips of your ears as you tried to focus on anything but the fact that Agatha was now holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rio’s grin widened as she leaned her chin on her palm, clearly enjoying the scene. "Well, isn’t this cosy," she remarked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Agatha’s smirk deepened, her fingers tapping lightly against your shoulder. "Cosy enough for you, doll?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"I…" You faltered, the words catching in your throat as your face grew impossibly hotter. "It’s… fine," you managed, though your voice sounded embarrassingly high-pitched even to your own ears.

Rio laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained as she reclined against her cushion. "Oh, you’re precious," she said, her dark eyes twinkling. "I think I like this side of you, pretty lady."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and warm. "She’s full of surprises," she murmured, her gaze flicking to you briefly before returning to Rio. "Wouldn’t you agree?"

The conversation shifted after that, flowing naturally as you all fell into an easy rhythm. Rio’s wild gestures and exaggerated stories filled the space with laughter, her energy infectious even when it bordered on overwhelming. Agatha, in contrast, remained sharp and composed, though her biting humour and occasional soft chuckles hinted at a depth she kept carefully guarded.

Despite their differences, their connection was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but feel the strange love toward them grow stronger with each passing moment. Sitting there between them, with Agatha’s arm still draped around you and Rio’s teasing gaze never straying far, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: belonging.

"You’re awfully quiet," Agatha remarked suddenly, her piercing gaze cutting through your thoughts. "Something on your mind, doll?"

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. "Just… thinking," you said softly, glancing between the two of them. "About how different you are. And yet, how… perfectly you fit."

Rio raised a brow, her grin turning sly. "Are you saying you admire us, pretty lady?"

"Maybe," you replied, your voice steady despite the warmth rising to your cheeks. "Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how you haven’t driven each other mad yet."

Agatha laughed, the sound unguarded and rich. "Oh, trust me, we’ve come close," she said, her tone lighter than you’d ever heard it. "But somehow, we always find our way back to each other."

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and you wondered if they felt the same way about you. Did they notice the connection forming between the three of you? It felt fragile yet undeniable, and for now, you chose not to ask, content to let the moment linger, warm and unhurried.

Time had passed, and the tension that had once defined your visits to Agatha and Rio’s surreal home had softened into something far more comfortable. You spent more time in their world, wrapped in their unique blend of wit, charm, and enigmatic allure. You had begun to understand their quirks—the way Agatha masked her emotions with biting humour and Rio’s unpredictable energy could shift from playful to commanding in a heartbeat.

Sometimes, both women disappeared, citing 'business' that required their attention. Though they never explained in detail, you suspected it was tied to their magic. Occasionally, you heard whispers of Lord Rio at your household—visiting the court or being spotted in the city. Those moments left you both flustered and intrigued as you wondered what she was up to in your world while you lingered in theirs.

One morning, your grandfather summoned you to his chambers. The moment you stepped inside, the heavy atmosphere made your chest tighten. He sat at his desk, a letter open before him, his expression as stern as ever.

"You wanted to see me, Grandfather?" you asked politely, though a part of you already dreaded what was coming.

He gestured for you to sit, and you obeyed, folding your hands neatly in your lap. For a moment, he studied you, his piercing gaze weighing heavily on you.

"There is an important matter to discuss," he said finally. "A marriage proposal has been brought to my attention. From the royal family."

Your stomach dropped, and your carefully composed expression faltered. "The royal family?" you echoed, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "It is a significant opportunity for our family. To marry into the royal line is an honour and a privilege."

Your thoughts raced, panic clawing at your chest. The idea of marrying someone from the royal family—someone you did not know, someone who was not Agatha or Rio—felt like a weight pressing down on you.

"I…" You hesitated, searching for an escape. "What about Lord Rio?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted your impulsiveness, knowing your grandfather would not accept.

Your grandfather frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. "Lord Rio?"

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to sound composed. "He is well-respected, is he not? A foreign lord with influence and intelligence. Surely, he would make a suitable match."

For a moment, your grandfather said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Lord Rio is indeed an impressive individual," he admitted. "But he is a foreigner. Marrying him would not bring the same advantages as joining the royal family."

Your heart sank, though you struggled to keep your disappointment from showing. "But surely… there is value in forging alliances beyond our borders," you argued weakly, knowing your words held little weight against his unwavering logic.

"Enough," he said firmly, cutting off any further protest. "You are a noble daughter of this household. Your duty is to strengthen our family’s position. A marriage to the royal line achieves that."

You bit your lip, your hands clenching in your lap. "And what if I do not wish to marry at all?" you asked quietly, the words slipping out in one breath.

Your grandfather’s eyes darkened, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Wishes have little place in matters of duty," he said coldly. "You would do well to remember that."

The conversation left you feeling both trapped and defiant. Your mind swirled with thoughts of Agatha and Rio. Their world felt like freedom compared to the suffocating expectations of your family. But what could you do? The love you felt toward them had only grown stronger, but it seemed the ties of duty were tightening around you with every passing day.

You needed to see them, to be in their presence again. Perhaps they would know what to do—or perhaps simply being near them would remind you of the courage you so desperately needed to find within yourself.

You did not even realise you ran out of your grandfather's study and were running until your lungs began to burn. The sound of your grandfather’s angry shouting echoed faintly behind you, but you did not care. You just kept going, your feet carrying you instinctively toward the only place that felt safe anymore.

The entrance to their realm came into view, the shimmering gate glowing faintly in the daylight. Without hesitation, you passed through, the familiar sense of comfort washing over you like a warm embrace. It was as though the air was cradling you, soothing your frayed nerves even as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall—slow, silent drops rolling down your cheeks. Tears started falling drop by drop, staining the collar of your dress as you walked toward their house. It stood there as it always did, serene and otherworldly, its soft glow contrasting with your turmoil.

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open. The silence inside was palpable, the air still and expectant. You stepped inside, your legs feeling heavier with each step. When you reached the corner of the room, you could no longer hold yourself up. You sank to your knees, wrapping your arms around them as you waited for them to return.

You did not know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of your dress as you sat in the stillness of their home. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and before you realised it, sleep claimed you.

A soft touch pulled you from the haze of slumber. Gentle fingers brushed your shoulder, shaking you awake with a care that felt almost reverent.

You blinked your eyes open, and the first thing you saw was Agatha’s face hovering above you. Her piercing blue eyes, usually guarded, were filled with an unspoken concern. There was no smirk, no teasing remark—just raw, unfiltered emotion. It startled you almost as much as the tenderness in her touch.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. She crouched down in front of you, her hand lingering on your shoulder as her eyes searched yours.

The flood of emotions you had been holding back broke free. Without thinking, you threw yourself into her arms, your hands clutching at the back of her robe as you buried your face in her shoulder. A sob tore from your throat, followed by another, and another. Sobbing, you tightened your embrace around her.

Agatha froze for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden embrace. But then, slowly, her arms came up to wrap around you, holding you close as you cried. Her hands were gentle, one resting on the back of your head while the other rubbed soothing circles against your back.

"Shh," she murmured, her voice softer than you had ever heard. "It’s alright, doll. Let it out."

The sound of her voice only made you cry harder, the weight of everything crashing down on you at once. The pressure of your family’s expectations, the suffocating proposal, and the fear of losing the connection you had built with these two women poured out in a torrent of tears.

Agatha didn’t pull away or try to quiet you. She simply held you, her embrace firm and reassuring as you let the storm within you rage. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel everything without restraint, knowing you were safe in her arms.

When your sobs finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, your face flushed and tear-streaked as you met her gaze. Agatha’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Her expression was soft, her sharp features unusually tender as she looked at you.

"You’ve been holding this in for a while, haven’t you?" she asked gently, her tone free of its usual teasing edge.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. Her hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before she pulled you back into a hug, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head.

"Good," she said softly. "I’d hate to think you didn’t trust us enough to let it out."

The words hit you harder than they should have, and you clung to her even tighter. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

You hadn’t realised Rio was there until her voice broke the quiet behind Agatha. Turning your head slightly, you met her gaze, and what you saw there startled you—a mix of anger… and was that jealousy?

Rio said nothing as she stepped closer, her movements fluid and purposeful. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on the top of your head in an almost comforting gesture, though her intense expression said otherwise. Her dark eyes seemed to shimmer before they glinted fiercely, a predatory light flickering within them.

Her eyes gleamed sharply.

Without a word, Rio drew a dagger from her robes—a weapon you hadn’t seen for some time, its sleek blade catching the faint light of the room. She tilted her head, her voice dangerously soft as she asked, "Who do I need to torture?"

Despite the tension of the moment, a soft laugh escaped you. The absurdity of her statement and the fact that Agatha’s arm was still wrapped securely around you made the situation feel oddly surreal. Your laughter was light but genuine, and it caught Rio off guard.

Rio pouted dramatically, her expression shifting into something almost petulant. "I’m not joking," she whined, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "If you don’t want me to do it, Agatha always can. She’s much better at getting rid of problems anyway."

Agatha sighed, her hand moving to rub your back as she spoke gently. "Rio," she said, her tone laced with exasperation, though a fondness was underlying it. "You’re not helping."

"But look at her!" Rio retorted, gesturing toward you with her free hand. "Someone made her cry. That deserves retribution, doesn’t it?"

You shook your head, a faint smile still tugging at your lips despite the lingering ache in your chest. "I don’t need anyone to be tortured," you said softly, your voice steady but kind. "I just… needed to be here."

Rio huffed, crossing her arms as she tucked the dagger back into her robes. "Fine," she muttered, though her tone was far from resigned. She leaned down slightly, her face close to yours, as she added, "But if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you let me know."

Her declaration was so fierce, so unapologetically protective, that it sent a strange warmth coursing through you. You glanced up at Agatha, who was watching Rio with a bemused expression, her lips quirking into a half-smile.

"She’s serious, you know," Agatha said, her tone carrying a teasing edge. "It’s not often she gets this… worked up."

Rio straightened, her pout returning. "Worked up? I’m perfectly calm."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Of course you are," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Perfectly calm, with a dagger in hand and murder in your eyes."

Rio rolled her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to plop herself down on the floor beside you and Agatha. She rested her chin on her palm, her gaze softening as it lingered on you. "Still," she murmured, her tone quieter now, "whoever hurt you better hope they never cross me."

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, though they were spoken with deadly sincerity. The knot in your chest began to loosen for the first time since you’d arrived. Here, in their surreal, star-lit realm, you felt a strange sense of belonging—a place where you could fall apart and still be held together.

You felt Agatha’s lips press gently against the crown of your head, a gesture so unexpected it sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you. The soft touch of her lips against your hair lingered, and you realised, to your own surprise, how much you liked it.

Agatha pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting yours momentarily before flicking to Rio. "Help her up," she said simply, though her tone had an unspoken tenderness.

Rio moved to your side, her hands firm yet gentle as she helped you to your feet. But before you could steady yourself, she pulled you into her embrace, her arms wrapping around you with an almost possessive edge. The unexpected closeness made your heart race, and before you could process the moment, Rio leaned down and kissed your forehead.

It wasn’t soft or fleeting. It was deliberate, lingering, and filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. The way her lips pressed against your skin spoke volumes, and you could feel your face flush deeply.

"Rio," Agatha said, her tone carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. She crossed her arms and raised a brow at her companion. "Really? You kiss her forehead before I do?"

Rio pulled back slightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. She glanced down at you, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "First one wins," she said playfully, directing the comment at Agatha rather than you.

Your cheeks burned hotter at the exchange, but Rio didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she enjoyed your reaction too much to stop. She shot Agatha a challenging look, her grin growing wider as she added, "You snooze, you lose."

Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically but didn’t bother to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, how mature," she drawled, turning away with a flick of her wrist. "Perhaps I should let you handle this, then."

You watched as Agatha moved toward a small cabinet in the corner of the room. With her usual flourish, she waved her hand, the faint purple haze of her magic shimmering in the air as a teacup floated toward her. It settled gently on the table, steam rising from the fragrant brew within.

She returned with the tea in hand, her expression softening as she offered it to you. "Drink," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It’ll help."

This time, you didn't hesitate and took the cup, the warmth seeping into your hands as you cradled it. Agatha sat down beside you, her gaze steady and encouraging, while Rio settled on your other side, her playful grin giving way to a quieter curiosity.

"What happened?" Agatha coaxed gently, her eyes searching yours. Her tone was free of its usual sharpness, replaced instead by a genuine concern that made it hard to look away.

Rio leaned in slightly, her presence as steady and reassuring as Agatha’s, though her approach was more casual. "Take your time, my lady," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of protectiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. "We’re not going anywhere."

Their combined attention was overwhelming but in the best way. You felt safe enough to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the tea in your hands steadying you just enough to begin. "It’s… about the marriage proposal," you started, your voice faltering slightly as their attention sharpened on you. "A royal family has made an offer for me."

Rio’s brow lifted, her casual demeanour shifting into something more focused. Agatha’s expression darkened, her sharp gaze growing colder.

"My grandfather called me into his study to discuss it," you continued, your words spilling out faster now. "He talked about alliances and duty, all those things I’ve heard before. And then—" you hesitated, the memory of your desperation making your cheeks burn "—I panicked. I told him to consider… to consider Lord Rio instead."

Rio’s eyes widened, her grin spreading so quickly that it was almost comical. She leaned back with a triumphant laugh, her dark eyes glinting with pride. "Did you now?" she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. "Oh, my lady, I knew you had excellent taste." She turned to Agatha, her grin practically splitting her face. "Did you hear that? She picked me."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. "Yes, Rio, we’re all terribly impressed," she said dryly, though her attention quickly shifted back to you, her piercing gaze softening slightly.

Rio didn’t stop, clearly relishing the moment. "Marrying into the royal family, huh?" she mused, her voice playful but carrying a dangerous undertone. "And yet, you suggested me. I’m flattered, my lady. Truly."

You couldn’t help but feel flustered under her burning gaze, her words only adding to the heat already burning in your cheeks. "It wasn’t—" you started to protest, but Rio’s grin silenced you, her satisfaction radiating like a tangible force.

The playful air around Rio didn’t seem to extend to Agatha. Her expression had grown darker as you spoke, her hand tightening slightly around her teacup. Her voice was low and firm when she finally spoke, carrying a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"He has no right to force you into anything," Agatha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She set her tea aside and reached for your hand, her touch warm and steady. "You are not a bargaining chip, not some prize to be traded for alliances."

Her words were fierce, but the kiss she pressed to your hand was surprisingly gentle, the contrast leaving you breathless. When she looked up at you again, her blue eyes glinted sharply. "You’re ours," she declared, her voice quiet but filled with a conviction that made your heart race.

Rio’s grin softened into something warmer, though no less mischievous. "Agatha’s right," she said, leaning in slightly. "You’re not going anywhere, my lady. Not unless it’s with us."

You felt the weight of their words settle over you, heavy but not unwelcome. Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you—confusion, fear, longing—you couldn’t deny the comfort their presence brought. Here, with their unwavering attention and fierce protectiveness, you felt more at home than you ever had in the confines of your own family.

Agatha’s fingers lingered against yours, her touch steady as she studied your face. "You don’t have to decide anything now," she said softly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. "But know this—we won’t let anyone take you away from us."

Rio reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. "And if your grandfather insists on pushing this," she added, her voice carrying a dangerous undertone, "he’ll find that he’s underestimated just how far we’re willing to go to keep you safe."

You couldn’t help but smile, their words filling you with a strange, undeniable sense of belonging. For the first time since your grandfather had brought up the proposal, you felt… at peace.

#agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #rio vidal x agatha harkness #fem reader #rio vidal x reader

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cleewii · 2 years ago

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rating: R18+

cw(s): 18+ content/MINORS DNI. sub! izuku, dom+gn! reader, izuku is into being called your wife, everyone is sort of a freak here

wanna make a housewife outta IZUKU.

i mean, it’s all just teasing at first. the occasional comment meant to pull that rosiness out of his cheeks whenever he makes you dinner or does your laundry for you.

“you’d make a good wife, izuku.” paired with a laugh that grows with the way his face blooms afterwards.

it’s all jokes, and he knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but slowly the jokes become more and more frequent. calling him your trophy wife, cute little housewife, telling him how pretty a ring would look on his finger.

when you have him laying against your chest, comfortable between your thighs, the jokes keep coming, even after you’ve already fucked him tender and dumb.

“y’could be my cute lil’ wife, you know.”

the soft feel of your lips against his skin has him shuddering a bit. the feeling only just feathers along his neck, then below his ear, until eventually your pressing kisses trailing across his temple.

“just stay home and look pretty f’me. never have to do all that horrible hero work.” your finger slides down from his soft cheek to his chin, turning his head to face you, all the while he’s staring into your eyes with a glazed over, fucked out expression that has a smile spreading across your face. “wouldn’t you like that, honey?”

“uh huh,” he nods, though the words aren’t reaching his brain. there’s only the light post-orgasm buzz warming him up inside, not a single thought can come through. he’d say yes to anything you’d propose right now, because in his eyes you’re divine, and he is nothing if not devoted to you. “please…”

“sweet thing,” you coo, “of course you would.”

“i’d get home from work n’ you’d be makin’ dinner while wearing that pretty ring i’d get you. as a present, i could bend you over the counter and fuck you on it, just like that…wouldn’t that be nice?”

the blood is starting to make its way back into his cock, and all he can do is stare wide eyed and stupid.

“could dress you up all nice and introduce you to my boss ‘n coworkers. And when we leave the party i’ll screw your pretty brains out in the backseat of the car for being so good f’me.”

you giggle a little, and it’s a sound so delicate and innocent he can hardly wrap his head around the filth coming out of your mouth. but that doesn’t stop the way it twists him up inside and leaves him squirming against you.

“bet you’d love that, huh baby?”

“Y-yes…yeah…oh—,” he groans. “please.” his face is starting to get hot, the rest of his body is already beginning to ache with the need searing in is cock. your words paint pictures in his mind that almost leaves spit trailing under his chin, and he’s not quite sure what to do. beg, cry, whine, it’s horrible, the way you toy with him. “please!”

“what’re you sayin’ please for?” Your fingers trail over his bare chest and teas across his pert nipples. “c’mon angel. use your words.”

“f-fuck…fuck me….!” he gasps. “please! make me…make me yours I—I wan’ it! i wan’ it! wanna be y—yours! please…please…please!”

“yeah? you wanna be mine that bad?”

“yes! oh…oh fuck—! yes!”

“but you’re already mine.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “tell me what you really want.”

his breath catches in his throat and it comes out a strangled whine, one that forces another shade of pink across his face.

‘what you really want’ it’s absurd, it’s embarrassing, but the longer you tease him the more he unravels, and he can feel himself slipping. “don’t—“

“oh c’mon angel…humor me won’t you?”

his lips press together tight as he stares at your hands, which lay on either side of his hip bones, thumbs tracing light circles against his skin. it’s a tantalizing feeling, a dull ache forming in his chest that threatens to bubble up into his throat, and he’s trying with the last threads of self control he has left to keep it at bay.

“do you hate the idea that much?”

“no!” he cries, shaking his head like he’s desperate. “n—no I….I….”

it’s too much. this feeling is too much, your touch is too much, the idea is too much.

But he loves it. he holds onto it like a secret he’ll only share with himself, but with you prodding this way, he’s worried he’ll spill.

He just can’t admit that he loves the joke a little too much.

#i blacked out and woke up with this in my drafts #i’m sick in the brain this is honestly so strange and i have no idea where it came from #izuku x reader #deku x reader #sub deku #sub izuku #sub midoryia #midoryia x reader #izuku midoryia x you #dom reader #clee.r18 #clee’s.drabbles

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xoxoch3rry · 2 months ago

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𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝔸 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~

Word count: 1,041

────

2003 Peter Pan x fem!reader

Warnings: Nightmare?

Summary: Neverland is no place for nightmares.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The moon hung high over Neverland, its soft glow casting a silvery sheen over the enchanted island. The usual cacophony of distant laughter and mischievous shouts had faded into silence as the Lost Boys and their leader drifted off to sleep in the treehouse. You, however, were not so lucky.

You bolted upright, heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The dream had been so vivid—too vivid. Darkness had consumed the landscape, and you had been utterly alone, calling out to Peter, but he never came.

The twisted images still lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind as you hugged your knees to your chest, trying to steady yourself.

A quiet rustling broke the silence, and your head snapped toward the source. There he was, Peter, crouched just outside your corner of the treehouse, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the wooden slats.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with concern. “You’re awake?”

You nodded, unable to find your voice as the remnants of the nightmare pressed against you.

Peter tilted his head, his boyish curiosity mingling with something gentler—something rare for him. He hopped down from his perch, landing silently before crossing the space between you in a few quick strides.

“You were crying out in your sleep,” he said, sitting down beside you. His green eyes studied your face, searching for answers. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You swallowed hard, finally managing to whisper, “Yeah.”

For a moment, Peter was quiet. He rarely sat still, but now he did, his energy subdued as he waited for you to say more. When you didn’t, he leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the stars through the cracks in the ceiling.

“Nightmares can’t hurt you here, you know,” he said after a moment, his tone light but not dismissive. “Not in Neverland.”

You huffed out a shaky laugh. “Tell that to my brain.”

Peter grinned, his usual mischievous glint returning for a moment. “Brains are funny things, aren’t they? Always worrying about what-ifs and could-bes. I don’t have that problem. I just live.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, hugging your knees tighter.

Peter shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours. “What was it about?”

You hesitated. The dream still felt too raw, too real, to put into words. But the way he looked at you—so patient, so unexpectedly understanding—made you feel like you could try.

“I was... alone,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything was dark, and I couldn’t find anyone. I kept calling for you, but you weren’t there.”

Peter’s expression softened, his playful demeanor fading entirely. “That’s silly,” he said, but not unkindly. “I’m always here.”

You shook your head. “It didn’t feel silly. It felt real. Too real.”

Peter frowned, his brows furrowing in a way that made him look far older than he was—or rather, far older than he let himself be. Without a word, he reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and grounding.

“Do you know why nightmares can’t hurt you here?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You glanced at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because Neverland is mine,” he said, his grin returning, this time with a fierce, protective edge. “And I don’t let anything hurt the people I care about. Especially not you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt the tightness in your chest begin to ease. Peter always had a way of making everything feel simpler, as if the weight of the world—or your nightmares—didn’t stand a chance against him.

“You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Of course, I do,” he said, as if the idea of him lying was completely absurd. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “If the nightmares come back, I’ll chase them off with my sword.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter this time. “Pretty sure you can’t fight a dream with a sword, Peter.”

He puffed out his chest, pretending to look offended. “You don’t think I could?”

“Well...”

Peter leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wanna know a secret?”

You nodded, curiosity piqued.

“You can’t fight nightmares with a sword,” he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. “But you can beat them by dreaming better dreams. And that’s what I’m here for.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Peter stood abruptly and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous energy.

“Come on where?” you asked, not moving.

“To dream better dreams, of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Still hesitant, you let him pull you to your feet. He led you to the edge of the treehouse, where a rope ladder dangled into the night. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks as Peter climbed down, motioning for you to follow.

Once you were both on the ground, he grabbed your hand again, pulling you through the forest with childlike glee. The trees whispered around you as the two of you ran, the ground soft beneath your feet.

Finally, Peter stopped at the edge of a sparkling lagoon, its surface reflecting the stars above. Fireflies danced around the water’s edge, their soft glow mingling with the moonlight.

“See?” Peter said, spreading his arms wide. “Better dreams.”

You stared at the scene before you, your breath catching in your throat. It was beautiful, magical in a way only Neverland could be.

Peter turned to you, his expression earnest. “Whenever you’re scared, just think of this. Think of me.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt still. Slowly, you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said softly.

He grinned, his usual cocky energy returning. “Anything for you, Y/N. Now, come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your hand again and pulled you toward the water, his laughter ringing out like a melody in the night. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the shadows of your nightmares began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the endless magic of Neverland.

#peter pan #peter pan x reader #x reader #peter pan 2003 #disney

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malicedragoness · 1 year ago

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Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

(Keep in mind, he would never hurt you like that. But he says things in the throes of pleasure.)

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

#MK Havik #havik #havik x reader

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lexicorp · 1 month ago

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Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[inserts Starscream next to Hashtag-] Seriously, its so hard getting a good view of their bunker, and there's never a screenshot of Star at their place so i can only manifest lmao

But yeah! Starscream is now amidst the Malto family and oh boy is this era of the fic complex to write oml. This chapter certainly matched the previous in length, and i feel like that might become a pattern with tryna wrap up these types of interactions/scenes.

Starscream is full of so much hekin anxiety dude, but this time he actually does get a bit of assistance!

Previous Chapter: The Illusion of Freedom

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Bee's Good Guy Crash Course

Chapter 9: Settling Into Circumstance

Finally.

After an absurd amount of kliks being knocked around the blasted box the bots had apparently needed to throw him in, they reached their destination. Signaled by the gradual slowing of momentum, paired with a collection of conversation, and the trailer door beginning to be pulled open. Starscream was not going to allow either of those femmes to wrestle him out of his predicament, he needed some dignity. So, he maneuvered himself as closely to the entrance as he could to prepare his exit.

The effort was extremely uncomfortable, but he didn’t care, as long as he got out of there with at least a scrap of his pride intact. As soon as Elita-1 became fully visible, he shoved her aside with one servo while pushing off from the edge of the trailer with the other. “Out of my way!” He’d almost stumbled into a faceplate full of dirt, but instead ducked into a haphazard roll with an involuntary yelp. Not exactly as graceful as he would hope. Starscream’s wings fluttered and twitched in relief from finally being able to move, although it perhaps too could reflect his lingering embarrassment. He quickly picked himself up and dusted his servos with an air of disinterest. “I will never understand the choice to travel by way of wheels.”

Arcee had the audacity to laugh. “Aww, someone’s cranky.”

He glared at her, up until he noticed Elita-1 staring him down in turn. A rather malicious grin came upon her faceplate as she approached him. “Have fun at con daycare. Don’t make me come pick you up early.” She hit her shoulder against his as she forced herself past. “C’mon Cee.” Arcee shrugged and they made their oddly hasty retreat, as if they had something better to do.

Starscream flapped his servo in a mocking gesture as he muttered their words in a perfect imitation of what they sounded like. Then flinched to rigid attention when the Prime called his designation. Who was followed by the bug trailing behind him with a pouty squint to his optics.

“Starscream. Will you follow us to the barn please?” The Prime was apparently quite fond of phrasing his orders as if they were requests.

“You talk as if I have a choice in the matter.” Starscream tossed his servo at the absurdity before making his way by their side.

“Tough Screamer. We aren’t exactly thrilled about this either.” Bumblebee kept pace if only to point a digit at Starscream to display his clear frustration at the seeker’s intrusion on his human hideout. “But Optimus is trusting me with this assignment–so just know that we’re not here to mess around. This is very serious.”

“I’m sure he’s aware, Bumblebee.” The Prime was standing right at Starscream’s wing opposite to the bug. Great. Boxed in between two bots to be chaperoned away to a different wooden box. He was thrilled.

So much so in fact that he began to ignore them in favor of scanning his surroundings. They looked to be in a patch of wilderness cleared out for an organic farm of some sort. Beside the “barn” was assumedly where the humans took residence. The Malto’s human femme guardian, he couldn’t quite recall her designation, was loitering at the entrance. Talking with Megatron.

Starscream stopped walking.

What were they conspiring about over there? That human was the leader of their odd family if he remembered correctly. Was that the “Dorothy” Megatron had referenced in the brig? The buckethead already had an inside agent with full control over the operation! She’d report any measly thing Starscream would do–to him. Of course they would put Megatron in charge of this little scheme of theirs. They were probably discussing all of what he should be notified about. Starscream could vent incorrectly. Or tip over one of those fences. Or get one of their designations wrong. Or not stand right. Talk too much. Or not enough. What other things might he be able to do wrong? Megatron would surely be sent to rip his wings off if he didn’t behave how they wanted. But Starscream didn’t know how these mechs thought he was supposed to act! Even when he’d thought he’d known how to navigate the Decepticons, he always had found a way to anger Megatron!

Primus, he was doomed.

“Are you alright?”

Starscream jerked and shuttered his optics. “W-what?”

It was the Prime. Had they been trying to get his attention and realized he had started to ignore them? Scrap–he’d been ignoring them! And Megatron had certainly seen him shove the femme aside earlier… He was so, so fragged.

“I asked if you’re alright.” The Prime repeated, and Bumblebee was looking at him weird.

Megatron was looking at him.

“YES–never better–in here, you said? So sorry for the delay.” Starscream was trying his oh so innocent tone on the mechs who hadn’t given a single slag back at the Titan; but hey, maybe it’d work this time. He quickly ducked inside the door, and only the bug followed him. He supposed the Prime was breaking away to meet up with Megatron and that Dorothy human. To report Starscream's obvious insubordination no doubt.

He hated it here already.

Red lightning flickered between his wings, and the cracks running from his optics began to burn. When had those gotten there? He suddenly became very aware of how flammable this structure was.

“You know, I zapped myself with one of the chaos clouds once to beat Breakdown. How come I didn’t get some perma-buff? What, ‘cause I didn’t slap the whole artifact itself on my arm?” Bumblebee complained casually as he hovered his ped above a particular portion of the floor.

“Trust me, you don’t want this curse.” Starscream absentmindedly responded in a far away whisper.

“Riiiight. Well, get ready for the drop.”

“The wha– AAh!” The ground beneath his peds pulled apart in a smooth yet abrupt motion that tripped him off his peds and into the opening. Apparently that was what the bug had been up to. He stumbled down the stairs until he fell on his tailpipe with a metallic thunk, which made Bumblebee burst out laughing. Starscream’s wings flicked and his optics flickered red. “Don’t laugh at me! You did that on purpose, you slagging glitch!”

“Pff– I did warn you, fly boy. But, yeah. Mmmaybe a little bit.” The damn bug looked so smug as his doors fluttered with lingering amusement. “And make sure to watch your language ‘round the kids will ya? Already have to worry about human curse words as is.”

Starscream growled with a roll of his optics, “No promises,” and shakily stood to follow him down the short, newly visible hallway. It quickly opened up into an artificial cavern, which looked like a rudimentary undercity. Well, an extremely small one in comparison to Cybertron’s. And with far too many silly nicknacks strewn about with questionable use. Even so, at least he actually wasn’t going to be staying in the horrible shack above them. And the Terrans apparently did have their own stylized residence that wasn’t falling apart. Perhaps that is why they actually liked their humans. Although a reliance on the creatures would always prove precarious regardless.

“Here comes his highness.” Bumblebee announced flatly like it was some form of satire, as he entered in front of Starscream to join the others. There were so many of them. That dinobot brat, the avian beastformer, the three wheeler, Sprite’s twin, Hashtag, and those two blasted human twerps. They were all staring at him with varying levels of contempt or apprehension.

Starscream’s optics flitted across the crowd and hesitated far longer than he should have as his vocalizer betrayed him. “Uh, yes… right, hello.” That displayed too much anxiety, try again. He straightened his posture to exude more confidence and attempted a friendly smile that might have looked a bit more sinister than he intended. “I’m sure you all are absolutely ecstatic to be graced with my presence. So, what redemption inducing activity do we have on the agenda for today?” He couldn’t help but focus his gaze upon Hashtag, who looked too uncomfortably tense. Starscream approached the group carefully with one servo behind him, and acted as though he didn’t notice.

The human femme brat–it was Mo, he remembered–crossed her arms. “We’re just settling in right now.”

Her brother, Robb something, seemed to finish her thought as he stepped in front of her defensively. “Yeah. Hold your horses Decepticreep.”

Starscream looked down at him with a twinge of confusion and annoyance. What on Cybertron was a horse? And why in this context would he need to hold them? Regardless, he forcefully kept a smile on his faceplate as the others continued with their own comments.

The dinobot trotted up with a hunger in his optics that made Starscream inadvertently centihic away from him. “If he tries anything, I can bite ‘im! I’m good at that–”

Bee patted his head with a fond grin, “Cool your core there J.B., remember, a good scout needs to be patient.” Yes, conspire their bloodlust right in front of him why don’t they. Certainly feeling the love around here.

The three wheeler Trash–no, Thrash–stepped up beside the dinobot, “Optimus wants us to give you a chance, Starscream, but don’t think for a second that we’ll fall for any of your sweet talk or poor me con business.”

Starscream put a servo to his chassis in faux surprise at such an accusation. “I would never dream of doing such a thing! I agreed to y–our glorious leader’s generous offer, in a true aspiration towards change!”

“...Not just to get out of the brig?” Hashtag asked skeptically with a tipped servo.

Starscream’s optic twitched red for a split nano-klik. “Of course not! Our conversation really made me realize my wrong doings, my dear Hashtag.” When he tried to step closer to her, Spitfire’s red clone Twitch inserted herself between them.

“Give her space Starscream.” The little drone had a stern glare that reminded him of the scowl Sprite so often gave him in the Titan. “Whatever reason you wanna give us, you’ll have to prove it.” The rest of them nodded in agreement.

Except the beastformer–Nightshade was the designation, Starscream was nailing this–who interjected with an effort to diffuse the tension. They raised a servo and put it on Hashtag’s shoulder, while looking at Starscream with a strange…indifference, in their optics. “Come now siblings, let us engage in more friendly conversation. For instance, we can display the room we constructed for our new house guest!” They broke away to begin walking toward a corner extending from one of the structures.

“A room, you say? How exciting.” Starscream’s vocalizer slipped a twinge of sarcasm, although he could admit he did harbor some surprise at the idea. They were providing him with his own whole in the wall where he could potentially keep things from them in? Why would they trust such a thing? There was certainly something sinister lurking within this ruse of hospitality.

He began to follow them, with Bumblebee doing the same, while the others lingered a bit further behind. Whispers prodded at Starscream’s audials, but those were of no use to him. Let them scheme or complain all they want. He was used to bots talking behind his back.

“I do hope you like it.” Nightshade said earnestly as they gestured a servo in an invitation for Starscream to enter, while they stood to the side. “I did not have as much reference in terms of personability as I did my siblings. So, the decor is primarily influenced by us having a bit of fun with it, admittedly.”

The door was actually constructed perfectly for Starscream’s height. He hesitantly took a step inside with a servo gripping the doorframe, in case a forcefield decided to shut him in immediately. There was a berth fixed against the corner wall, with a couple odd panels that could be distinguished across it. One even seemed like there was an attempt at hiding it with the odd array of colorful, plush squares littering the berth. The walls were painted in accordance with Starscream's own colors, although tainted by a horrendous assortment of human transformers propaganda. Including one that was an offensive illustration of him plastered to a “hang in there” poster. The black ceiling speckled with glowing star decals, barely made up for it. Even if they weren’t arranged to resemble favorable constellations as one would expect from such an effort. The only attempt he could make out was a string lined in a way that vaguely resembled a valve wrench. Although the strangest addition was a human sized lamp that could resemble Bumblebee placed in a corner. Which was backdropped by a sign that read in bold letters: “No evil allowed” with an X’ed out Decepticon emblem. How subtle.

“So…what do you think?” Nightshade asked hopefully after a stint of silence.

“They didn’t rig the place to explode, the kids actually tried to put some thought into this thing. So how about maybe a thank you, or something?” Bumblebee had become far too close to Starscream’s wings, and was obviously gearing to shove him inside to make a point.

Starscream forced himself to release the doorframe from his hold to gain some distance from the looming mech, and made his way over to a different poster. The least disgusting of the bunch, which displayed three familiar seekers soaring through the sky with a burning city below. “Yes, well, it is certainly far more lively than my most recent arrangements.” A groveling thank you at such a ridiculous thing, seemed hardly appropriate. Still, he should probably sound more enthused than that to appease them. “And I appreciate that so much, my sweet little Terran friend!” He tipped his helm to the side with a grin aimed toward Nightshade and ignoring the bug. Then dropped it as soon as he turned away from them again, although still made certain to control his tone. “I see you all have quite the humor about you.” He commented in a vague gesture towards one of the more absurd posters displaying a Decepticon defeat. They’d obviously gone for some acute air of irony in their approach.

“Ah yes, the others did enjoy adding a couple playful jabs, as one could say, when it came to the posters.” Nightshade shrugged with a grin at the memory. “The stars were my idea. Do you like them? I simply assumed, with star being in your name and all, that it might be something that could appeal to you.”

Starscream could simply say that he did, with some exuberant air of elation. It wouldn’t be a complete lie, after all, the stars were indeed the room’s best feature. Yet his curiosity got the better of him as he hesitated, glancing back at them discreetly. “Why do you care whether I like it?” The whole thing was rather excessive despite their clear disdain for his presence. Why had they bothered?

“I want to make certain that I did a satisfactory job in making you feel welcome.” Nightshade fiddled with their servo’s anxiously. “This is a rather… odd situation we have come upon. I wish it to go well.”

“That so?” Starscream brought his servos behind him, turning to fully face the Terran again with a smile. “I assure you, your addition trumps all others! Well, except perhaps that poster displaying Megatron getting blasted across a ravine.” As he gestured to it, Starscream threw his ped backward to knock the Bumblebee lamp to the floor with a satisfying clunk. “That is certainly my type of humor.” He succeeded in distracting the Terran from his petty action, yet not the bug, who glared at him from the sideline. Good. He flashed him a sparring glance and a smirk before smoothly shifting attention back to Nightshade, approaching the door again to make his exit. “You and your siblings did a wonderful job, Nightshade.”

The Terran lit up at the praise and clapped their servos together. “I am glad! Perhaps as we all get better acquainted in the effort at becoming allies, we can add upon it with your own input! I promise to not take offense to any changes you wish to make.”

Starscream came up beside the Terran, then began to trace the perimeter of the cavern as he was followed. The other children seemed to have taken to their own perches while still keeping watch of his movements. Did they really have nothing else explicitly planned? The loosely structured nature laid before him made Starscream uneasy.

“You seem more hopeful than the others.” He began while entertaining his optics with every little detail of his surroundings. “Does… Hashtag share such a sentiment?” Her focus seemed to only be hard locked with whatever was on her datapad. Perhaps it was foolish of him to yearn for some sort of connection with the kid now. She too did think him worse than Megatron, after all…

“Yes. I believe she does.” Nightshade responded decisively with a nod. “Although if I were to disclose further, I fear it would cross a line of privacy for her feelings on the matter.”

“You can’t expect her to be jumping with joy right after you blatantly threatened her back at the brig.” Bumblebee added snarkily as he continued to be a diligent little shadow. “Get a grip on reality, why don’tcha.”

As if Starscream wasn’t already quite aware. As if he didn’t remember. As if the damned bug thought he was stupid. Why did these bots keep acting as though he couldn’t understand the situation they’ve thrusted upon him? Did they really think so low of his competency? Starscream had a perfect grip on reality! His processor never deleted things without his knowledge. Or bent his perception in any way. He knew exactly what was happening–

Starscream in-vented sharply as the crimson lightning sent a surge through his frame that shot pain through his spark, and stopped him in his tracks. He felt a sudden urge to purge his tank–which had apparently obtained a higher energon level at some point–as the cracks from his optics burned. Why had it flared up so much?! Nightshade had given him a positive response hadn’t they? Frag the bug, he needed to focus on what the kid said. Which was…?

That, maybe, Hashtag didn’t hate him after all. Right? That was good.

But he still couldn’t move.

Quintus’ curse was intent on imbueding him with an intense desire to strangle that Autobrat until his smartaft voice box broke. Or whip around and snap at him with a verbal assault that would no doubt lead to a larger altercation. But he knew he couldn’t. Even as it was increasingly difficult to discern the difference between the curse’s power over his processor, or if it actually was what he wanted to do.

When the bug decided to kneel down in some attempt at gaining his attention, Starscream couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was too close. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Starscream threw his servo at Bumblebee, which the lightning empowered to send them both stumbling backwards. Starscream gripped his helm and furiously struggled to will the blasted power to stop shaking every centihic of his frame, and force it back into whatever crevice it’d made for itself. “J-Just–GIVE me a nano-klik to– AUGH COME ON!” He needed control. If he couldn’t even trust his own frame to work with him–

“Dude, Starscream, buddy, you need to chill– just sit down and uh…take deep breaths or something?” Bumblebee sounded as though he were trying to help, but all he seemed to be able to do was state the obvious.

“Don’t you think I’m trying, you slagging fool!? This is your fault! I am NOT delusional, or crazy, or any of those things you idiots want to think!” Starscream growled while throwing his servos around wildly in his sudden burst of anger. The others were coming upon them after having sprung to their peds at his outburst. For once, a large crowd of optics on him was the last thing he wanted. This was bad. If Megatron wasn’t going to be sent to blast him into next week, he certainly was now. They’d stick him with that needle again. He needed to get this blasted power under control. But it just kept cycling in on itself. He felt tired. Yet overcharged all at once.

Bumblebee put his servos up in some form of surrender but his vocalizer betrayed his own frustration, “How is it my fault??”

“Let me try!” It was Hashtag. “Okay, there’s a 5 point countdown grounding thing I found.” She knelt down a couple hics away as she held up her servos. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Starscream stared at her with confusion addled with frustration as his optics flickered, but managed to answer, “...Six.”

“What color’s my paint?”

“Violet.”

“What about yours?”

“Red…blue, yellow–” This seemed stupid.

“Good. How about four things you can feel right now?”

The burning in his spark was slowly beginning to subside. Starscream intentionally scraped his servo down his faceplate to distinctly connect the sensation in his processor. He couldn’t name those things, could he? Not the lingering pain in his patched wing. Or the crick in his knee joint. Those things would surely elicit an awkward reaction.

After his silence, Hashtag continued on with her strange strategy. “What about three things you can hear? Like my voice right now.”

“I suppose…Bumblebee's incessant tapping of his ped. Or perhaps the fact that those lights over there are emitting a ridiculous affront to music.”

Hashtag laughed at his apparent audacity, “Hey, that’s our LED stereo and that music is awesome! I think you could grow to appreciate the glory that is Hatsune Miku. She’s kinda like us! I mean, in a way…”

“What is the point of this…?” Starscream’s wings clicked back into their neutral position as the last traces of lightning retreated from them, and he straightened his posture.

“Well, he stopped tweaking out, so I guess it worked.” Thrash noted with an air of surprise, “Nice work sis.”

Hashtag grinned with a bit of pride as she put her servos on her hips, and kept her focus on Starscream. “To get ya out of your head! See? You don’t have that weird red junk all over you anymore.”

Starscream blinked and realized that he did in fact feel far calmer than he had just moments before. He looked down at his servo and tested the workings of his now only slightly shaking digits. “Hm…” He hummed with the intent of adding something further, but became transfixed with the strangeness of the whole interaction. Thus only continued to blankly stare at his servo, for a long, arduous stint of silence before he found the words. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

“No problem.” Hashtag had a rather sorrowful look in her optics as she brought her servos up to hug her frame again. What was that about?

Starscream narrowed his optics at the group. “Don’t tell Megatron about this.” He phrased it as a stern warning, despite knowing his inability to make threats at the moment.

“Still afraid of ol’ Megs there Screamer?” Bumblebee had a quirk of amusement on his faceplate, even as there was that odd, pitying expression lingering behind it as he crossed his arms.

Starscream scoffed, but moved on. Any topic but that. He could deal with it at a time that decidedly wasn’t now. “What is this Miku you speak of Hashtag? Perhaps you could attempt to convince me.”

Hashtag’s attention perked and she bounced in place, “Oh that is SUCH the rabbit hole–” She whipped out her datapad and ushered him to follow her to some sort of seating area. “Get ready to be absolutely dazzled by the sickest lore and the most bangin’ of bops!”

Starscream followed and sat by her side as the crowd began to find their own places again. “That could be questionable, but I suppose that is what you will be attempting to convert me into believing.” He grinned at her in a way that encouraged a challenge. “Try me.”

After a surprisingly long and passionate presentation; he couldn’t say that he was wholly convinced of why this Hatsune Miku character deserved to be on such a pedestal with millions of mindless followers. Although he could admit that some of the messages were rather intriguing. And some of the music, not half bad. He might even consider a servoful of them borderline good. Particularly that “Rolling Girl” one.

Perhaps between Hashtag and that Nightshade Terran, Starscream might actually be able to stay sane in the Autobot’s newest prison. At least there was some semblance of room to move. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

He could focus on the rest later.

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