#► sometimes i need a little sunshine (modern) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachesofteal · 3 months

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The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends.

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone.

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera-

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along?

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this?

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo.

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

“I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold.

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods.

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not-

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment.

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone.

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand.

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day.

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core.

Ungovernable Persephone.

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.”

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison.

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still…

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling.

My darling…

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort?

No.

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself.

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away?

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack.

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth.

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld.

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them?

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you.

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool.

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What?

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck.

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from.

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic.

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town?

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have?

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway?

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them?

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose?

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I’m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.

Fuck.

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool.

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always.

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him?

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods.

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough.

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more.

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are.

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #AIV #ghost x reader #hades and persephone #AIV(OFK)#modern retelling

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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Can you write for Masky/Tim that has a grumpy x sunshine dynamic with the reader? Bonus points if it’s enemies to lovers. They’d literally be Branch and Poppy from Trolls 😭😭

Tim/masky x sunshine!reader !

hopefully this can be read as either mh or creepypasta, since i adore both takes on masky/tim (more so modern creepypasta takes that ive personally seen at least) so! going to split this into 2 parts so tim and masky can have their own parts since i write them a little differently from one another! i! need to watch the trolls movies, ive heard good things about them, especially the newest one....

Tims part//

honestly in a weird way you kind of rub oeff on him.. now does tim just become more... upbeat and happy? ....maybe just a teeeeeeny tiiiiiny smidge, but no where near your level. you have a positive effect on him, thats for sure, but hes still very clearly handling his own issues and hes still his usual self. though, you do sometimes catch him smiling just ever so slightly when hes watching you go on about your day or rambling about something! and i think that alone is very sweet, like hes going through so much/has gone through so much if this is post MH/MH specific, but he still finds it in himself to unwind just a tiny bit thanks to your energy. though, you do sometimes tend to be a little too kind, so sometimes he feels he needs to step in to make sure you dont get hurt or taken advantage of. its not that youre dumb, but you can sometimes see the best in people before they have the chance to show that they actually possess that good in the first place, you know? kind of envies how you just roll with things and dont let most things effect you, though there will be hell on the chance something DOES upset you... more so a solutions than comfort guy, though!

Maskys part//

very similar to tim in regards that masky likes observing you when youre being your joyous self, and you just slightly rub off on him. while tim is more grumpy and cautious, masky is more so.... well he doesnt emote a lot and the mask sure as hell doesnt help matters, as well as him not speaking... though your energy is still infectious, sometimes when hes signing to you, his signs are a little more energetic and such. but not by much. to outsiders they wouldnt be able to tell something is different, but you can... though i dont think masky does, and if he does he doesnt say anything.. while tim would offer solutions when youre upset, masky... well he also offers solutions, but in a much different way. not going to elaborate other than that his solutions tend to be very "hands on" and "straight forward" in regards to handling the issue. less of a grumpy stormcloud x sunshine dynamic and more of a collected stoic x sunshine! if that makes sense!

#marble hornets x reader #marble hornets x you #mh x reader #mh x you #masky x reader #masky x you #tim wright x you #tim sutton x you #tim wright x reader #tim sutton x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader

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elliespet · 1 year

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i love the idea of ellie having an s/o who's basically the total opposite of her :(( ellie wears a lot of baggy clothes with dark green or sage green or just dark clothes in general and she tends to keep to herself. while, her s/o is pretty girly, wears skirts or low waisted jeans with a baby top, and is a friendly with lots of people. it's kind of cliche but it's so cute 😩

　　　　 opposites attract | e. williams

pairing + wc: ellie williams x girly fem!reader, wordcount 853!

description: modern ellie wearing baggy clothes and neutral colors, being protective and quiet unless need be dating girly reader that’s fairly popular, outgoing and a serious fashionista.

warnings: mentions of reader being intoxicated and fighting!

a/n: thank you for this req!! this is sooo cute i hope i could do a little justice to your thought :(( i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing so i’m reallllly praying this is okay!!

you were the girliest girl ellie had ever been with. skirts, pink, mani-pedis, jewelry. all of it. you were the complete opposite of your girlfriend.

she wore baggy clothes in neutral tones and greens, skated, played guitar. her fingers were littered with heavy rings that made her veins pop so well. ellie was quite reserved, actually. always clinging to your side when you were around others and not speaking unless it was a small mumble of a ‘hey’ or ‘hello’.

she felt awkward, you were so outgoing and walked around with confidence like a ray of sunshine. she loved it. this is how things worked for the two of you.

tonight, you had settled on going to a party and of course, dragged ellie along with you. as much as she disliked parties — she’d never object when it came to you. how could she? your big doe eyes and pouty lips always entranced her in and she shook her head with a sigh, agreeing. you’d bounce around the room cheering that ellie had actually decided to go.

“els.. what’re you gonna wear?” you peered around her shoulder watching her scroll through her apps in a pair of sweats and a tank top. “err.. probably just some cargos and a tee.” she mumbled, not really caring to look good for anyone that wasn’t you. with a little nod you were off, rummaging through your closet and dresser for things to wear.

you had finally settled on a pair of dark wash low waisted jeans that hugged your hips so well and a small white crop top. it wasn’t anything special, sometimes you’d really go all out. you felt as if your girlfriend isn’t showing off, why should you? usually you liked to stand out but tonight was different. you wanted to try and sink into everyone else, not garnering attention like a moth to a flame.

ellie didn’t care what you did as long as you were happy. she wanted to please you. going wherever you asked her to and listening to everything you said. “baby, you ready?” you heard her ask from behind you as you finished applying your lip gloss. all you did was hum in response and she knew your answer.

ellie grabbed your hand and held your bag for you all the way to her car, opening the door and keeping her hand on your thigh the whole drive to the party. as soon as you arrived, you sprung out of the car faster than the flash. it was exciting, seeing your friends and meeting new people.

you had stepped into the house with your girlfriends arm slung over your shoulder as she peered around, looking for a place to sit. as soon as she did she had whispered to you to have fun while she made her way over, keeping her eyes on you in a protective manner even from a distance.

it’d been about an hour, that’s when ellie noticed the guys in a corner staring at you and whispering. you were slightly tipsy, dancing and laughing with dina while you held onto one another. ellie continued to watch, ready to attack as soon as something happened.

ellie loved when you were confident, happy. of course she did. but she hated when that began to blossom into unwanted attention. this isn’t the first time this has happened and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

you were paying no mind though, giggling and bringing the cup to your lips while talking to dina, glancing back once in a while to shoot a cheeky grin at your girlfriend. she’d just smile back thinking about how pretty you looked and how you were hers.

right after this, all hell would break loose. one second its a guy creeping up behind you and dancing against you and the next it’s him on the ground, ellie straddling him and throwing punches. you stood there shocked before registering what happened, trying to pull your girlfriend away. “Next time I see you, I’ll fucking kill you!” was the last thing she shouted before you, dina and jesse had successfully pulled her out the party.

“els, calm down!!” you held her cheeks and all she could do was drop a string of curse words. ‘fucking douche’ and ‘bastard’ every five seconds. ellie held onto you as if you were slipping away from her, huffing into your neck.

as soon as you got situated, you were on the way home. ellie’s grip on the steering wheel turning her knuckles white. she loved you and she loved the attention you got, but she despised when that attention ended up in her having bruised knuckles and a sore throat from yelling.

you were soft and kind, sweet like honey.. and ellie? she thought she was more of a rock. hard, rigid, tough. yet you two fit together like puzzle pieces. the perfect pair, sweet and caring matched with strong and protective. you made it work. it must be true what they say then, opposites do attract. the night ended in small kisses and playing with hair. you were her safe space. you were her home and with those thoughts, you both had fallen asleep hoping tomorrow would better.

a/n: thank you for reading if u did!! this was literally the cutest idea ever and i was like omg.. protective ellie with girly reader that always has eyes on them. i hope u enjoyed!! reblogs & follows are appreciated <3

#ellie x you #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #₊ ⊹ ➶ ⌣ ┆reqs 💌 ‹𝟥

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maybege · 9 months

Text

A Helping Hand

Summary: When one more omega is in the group, the suppressants aren’t enough for everyone and you end up getting your heat for the first time since the outbreak. (Part of The Weight of The World AU)

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 5.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, heats, etc.), yearning, unrequited love (or is it?), a little bit of fluff, explicit sexual content, dry orgasm(?), pet names (princess, good girl, etc.), praise kink

Good morning everyone and happy weekend! I hope the summer is treating you well and that you are looking forward to the second half of this year. 🥰 It has been way too long since I delved into my love for Boba, so if you’re interested in a part two (perhaps he helps Reader out with her heat? 👀), let me know! I really hope that you enjoy this story and would be very very happy if you let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!

Please note that “Sunshine” is essentially Reader from the Paz version but I had to give her a nickname somehow to make sure she is still part of this.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

When Charlie presented as an omega, everyone in the group knew you were fucked.

There was no better way to say it.

“We don’t have enough suppressants,” Paz said out loud what everybody knew already, “They are harder and harder to come by and the last pharmacy didn’t have any. Chants is already on half a dosage, I am not sure how we can stretch them more.”

“What’s that? Suppressants?”

Din turned to the little boy that had snuck his way into the conversation. “Something for grownups, buddy, c’mon let us talk in peace.”

You smiled when Grogu shrugged, completely unbothered, and returned to where he had been playing with Pan and Jarno.

Sometimes you envied the kids in your group for the semblance of innocence they could still afford to have. And then you felt bad because this was not the childhood you wanted for them. Stars, you knew about babies being born and the thought that this was the only kind of life they would ever get to know made your stomach hurt and your heart ache.

Yet, they did not have to deal with problems like you were now. The adults of the group had come together, standing together and saying nothing but muddling over the same thing. Deep down, you knew that there was only one solution and you were pretty sure that almost everyone had come to that conclusion.

Almost.

“Maybe I don’t need suppressants,” Charlie piped up, shifting nervously next to his mother, Bernie, “I could pass my heat just like that.”

“No, you can’t,” Briggs said flatly, the old man crossing his arms in front of his chest. He had not been here the longest, only joining the group a few months ago when Paz had found him and Sunshine fighting off a horde of zombies. But despite his recent status in the group, he had risen in rank quickly, his advice and opinion honoured by those you had chosen as unofficial leaders.

One of these leaders was Boba who was standing right across from you. Like Briggs, he had crossed his arms in front of his chest, his biceps bulging and you swallowed, trying to keep your staring as subtle as possible.

With the late summer now cooling down, he had started to wear flannel again and you were a little embarrassed to admit that fall had not only become your favourite season because of the harvests you could make but also because you got to see the alpha stroll around with rolled up sleeves.

Trying your best not to look too long at him, you glanced back at Charlie.

“But what if I –“

“Charlie, dear,” Moira piped up, her voice gentle and kind. It was the same voice she had used to comfort Bernie this morning after she had made the discovery that her son’s scent was not as beta-like as she had hoped. “Briggs is right,” the older woman explained, “You will need your suppressants more than anyone else in this group.”

More than you.

You swallowed heavily, trying to get enough oxygen into your lungs to fool your heart into believing that you were not about to have a full-blown panic attack.

Charlie’s light eyes met yours and you knew him well enough to know that he was feeling the same way.

“Come on, Charlie,” you heard yourself say, stepping forward, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Everyone else let you pass without a word of protest and Paz nodded at you in approval. Bernie looked like she had about a thousand different things on her mind and you could not blame her. The outbreak was the least ideal place to be an omega – much less discover being an omega. And to see that your child had to be an omega in this cruel world? You could not imagine the pain she was going through.

The tree line was only a few steps away from where you had stood, the clearing only barely big enough for you to set up camp, and so it only took a few more steps until the thick trunks provided you with some privacy. With the summer nearing its end, the leaves filtered the sunlight a light gold and you took a moment to appreciate the pure beauty and peace of it.

In the last few years, there had not been enough moments like this.

You watched as Charlie started to pace from tree to tree, bouncing off them like the DVD logo on the sides of the screen. There were a lot of things you wanted to say, a lot of things you wanted to assure him of. But you also knew that he was not prone to listening right now and you could not blame him.

“I don’t want to take your suppressants away from you,” the boy started, tears of anger running down his cheeks, “I – I don’t want to be an omega and I don’t want to have heats and I don’t want everyone to look at me like I am a fucking failure!”

His voice got louder and louder and in peak teenage fashion, he kicked his foot over the ground, sending a bunch of leaves up in the air and sailing down to the mossy floor.

Your brows rose in surprise.

“They are not my suppressants,” you corrected him gently, “They are for those in the group that need it most. And that is you.”

Charlie huffed, still not looking at you.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you said, “And it’s okay that you are unhappy with your presentation. Stars knew I always wanted to be a beta. But,” you stepped closer to him, “We don’t always get to choose what happens. And while it speaks to your character that you don’t want to put me in an uncomfortable situation, Briggs is right. Everyone is. You don’t know what a heat is like, especially your first one. It is too dangerous. At least I had mine already, I know what it is like.”

“That was years ago,” he protested, “Before the outbreak.”

“Yes, but it is still more experience than you have,” you added.

That seemed to get him thinking but he still did not look very happy. Deep down you knew it was not your fault that he was feeling this way or your responsibility to make him feel better. But you remembered how terrified you had been when you had your first heat and how terrified he must feel now.

“Look,” you took a deep breath, “We always knew that there would come a point where we have to choose who gets the suppressants. We were just lucky until now. Lucky that Chants has an implant and that Moira doesn’t get her heats anymore. And we got especially lucky when Sunshine mated with Paz before she could need them,” you said glancing over at where the giant man was gazing at his omega like she hung the stars in the sky.

The gaps in the trees afforded you the perfect view of the camp and when you saw the couple, so very in love with each other, something tugged at your heartstrings. You had never been interested in Paz that way but something you stung when you saw the way he looked at his mate. You wanted someone to look at you the way he looked at her.

You wanted someone to love you.

Charlie’s shaky breath snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Anyway,” you sighed, putting your hand on his shoulders, “If you are feeling like you take the suppressants from me – you are not. I know what I am getting into.”

“I always thought I was going to be a beta,” the boy finally said, revealing the true reason for his upset, “Like mom … and like dad.”

Your heart ached.

“You’re not less like your parents just because your presentation is different,” you assured him, “You will always be their son.”

“I know but … I feel like I disappointed her,” his shoulders slumped, his head “Mom, I mean.”

“Oh honey,” you pulled him in for a hug, “She is not disappointed. She is just worried about you.”

He wrapped his arms around you and you pretended not to notice the way his body was shaking or how his hot tears soaked your shirt.

Minutes passed like this and you could see the birds flying in the crowns of the trees, the leaves and canopy shaking and throwing intricate patterns on the forest floor. You wished you could stay here forever, in this little, safe corner of the world that seemed so far away from everything that wanted to kill you.

But you knew you never stayed in a place too long and it would be time again soon to move somewhere else.

“Thank you for that,” Charlie mumbled and pulled away from you, “Can – Can I be alone for a bit?”

“Sure thing, kid,” you smiled, “Don’t stay too long or else Briggs will send a search party out.”

He nodded and you smiled before making your way back to the camp. The leaves crunched under your shoes and you spotted a little squirrel rushing its way up a tree.

Your head was spinning as you approached the group, the reality of the situation really sinking in. Then again, it really should not be a problem at all. There was no reason to be nervous. After all, you were in a somewhat protected environment and you were an adult. You should be able to face a heat alone. Right?

Everyone was busy doing something (your heart warmed at the sight of Grogu, Pan and Jarno listening completely enraptured to Moira and Briggs retelling a Shakespeare play) but you could not find it in yourself to join anyone.

“All good?” Chants asked you, looking up from where he was working on one of the cars with Din.

You nodded, “All good.”

There was no reason to tell him that you felt like your heart was about to explode from fear or that you could feel your palms get sweaty at the thought of stopping to take the pills immediately.

That night, the entire group sat by the fire, seeming like the issue from this morning was long forgotten. Briggs, Paz and Din were bowed over a map they had placed on the hood of Altarf’s truck, probably planning the safest route to take when it was time to change camps.

Altarf and Sluice had been on dinner duty today and the stew they made still sat warm in your belly. The night air had cooled down significantly so you had remained at your place by the fire, amicably chatting with Sunshine and Bernie. You could see Grogu and the kids playing in the dirt by some of the cars.

Chants and Moira were off collecting the hanging laundry of the day and you already looked forward to wearing some freshly washed clothes.

How lucky you were that even years later you could all go to bed with a full stomach and the knowledge that you would wake up in the morning. Somewhat safe, somewhat sheltered, and surrounded by people who had become family.

“Wisconsin would take us right by Minneapolis,” Paz said, drawing a line with his finger. You smirked when you noticed how Sunshine immediately zoned out of the conversation, all her attention on her alpha.

“We are definitely not heading to Washington,” Din protested, “Heard that corner is a powder keg waiting to explode.”

“North, then?” Briggs asked, “If the tracks we found are anything to go by we would need to get a few days’ distance between us and here.”

Hearing them talk about moving camp made you anxious. When would your heat strike? Would you be so unlucky to have it while you were on the move? You had been on suppressant for so long that you hardly remembered what it felt like to go into heat. Would you really survive several hours in a car with your mind occupied with being fucked seven ways to Sunday?

“You okay?”

You flinched, looking up at the alpha that had just joined you.

“Boba,” you chided the man who gave you the hint of a smile.

He sat down next to you, the fire illuminating his features and you allowed yourself to look at him a little longer than usual.

Boba Fett was … He was …

Boba Fett was the kind of man you had dreamt about before the outbreak. And, to be honest, after the outbreak. The way he held himself so full of confidence and competence had always attracted you and you found that with each day that passed, you had another little thing you loved liked about him.

One day, it had been the way the crow’s feet on his eyes showed when he laughed. It was a rare sight but that made it all the more special, seeing him joke around with Din or Paz or one of the kids.

Another day, it had been exactly that: the way he was with the kids. At first, you had expected him to be a grumpy loner but there was a kindness there when he taught them about the dangers of weapons and made sure to show them to properly handle one if they ever came across a rifle.

Then there had been his hands. Stars, his hands. Thick long fingers and palms weathered from work. You knew he hadn’t been a mechanic like Din but that he had helped him out and he still did now, fixing cars and engines right and left in that week when all of your vehicles had started making problems, threatening to get you stuck in Northern Arizona.

That was another thing: his competence. It made you weak in the knees and your panties wet to see him be so knowledgeable about so many things. Sure, it started when you had seen him, hands greasy and white tank top stained, fix one of the trucks like it was nothing. But it had continued when he had disassembled and cleaned his guns and put them back together again like it was no big deal. Or that one night where you had crossed a group and had spent dinner together and one of them had a guitar. You remembered it like it was yesterday, the surprise on (almost) everyone’s faces when Boba had asked for the guitar and played a few songs for the group.

Another day it had been his jaw and the stubble that grew when he went a few days without shaving. You wondered what it would feel like on your neck or between your thighs and you woke up more than one morning, vivid dream memories in your minds of how he had scented you with a stubble jaw like that.

Yes, Boba Fett was the alpha that made your voice stutter, your heart race and your pussy feel so very empty. Only that you were too shy to ever do anything about it. With Paz and his mate, it had been obvious to everyone (except for them) that they were meant for one another and it had taken barely any time for them to figure it out, too.

But you and Boba … You had been part of this group almost for the entirety after the outbreak. If anything were to happen, it would have happened by now. You were sure of it.

Realizing that you had stared at him for a little too long, you cleared your throat and looked at the glowing ambers of the fire.

“You okay, Princess?” he asked you quietly, “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged, trying to ignore how that made your cheeks feel suspiciously hot, “Just thinking.”

“You’re worried about the suppressants, aren’t you?”

You did not say anything which, apparently, was confirmation enough.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” he stated, calm and confident and it was so easy to just believe him when he continued, “You’ll be the safest you can ever be, omega. It will be over before you know it and then we can see if we can some more suppressants up in Wisconsin.”

“Charlie’ll need them,” you said, your hands fidgeting, “I won’t get suppressants any time soon, Boba, we both know it.”

When you turned your head to look at him, you were met with brown eyes gazing at you so intimately, it made you want to crawl right into his arms. It made you want to curl up in his lap, tuck your face into the crook of his neck and just breathe him in until everything was right again in the world.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something and you saw his hand twitch like he was about to reach out to you.

“Now now, what are we whisperin’ about?” Moira laughed, sitting down on your other side. Sluice and Chants were with her and you watched as Sunshine walked over to Paz, being greeted with a grin and a soft kiss.

“Nothing of importance,” Boba replied, still looking only at you but straightening up. Only now did you notice how close he had been, how his knee had brushed against yours, and now with him standing up, how it left you cold and alone. “I think I’ll head over to Din … get the details of the route we’re taking.”

You wanted to ask him to stay with you a little longer but your shyness made the words dry on your tongue and you watched him leave.

“Hey there, princess,” Sluice grinned, sidling up to you. You knew she was just teasing you. It was the running joke in the group that Boba kept calling you princess like it meant something.

Of course, it didn’t.

(But stars knew you really wanted it to.)

It took four days for you to notice that something was wrong.

There even was a moment where you had had the slightest hope that maybe you wouldn’t get your heat. That you had taken the suppressant for so long that your body has just decided to skip them altogether and make your life that much easier.

But of course, it didn’t.

It started with you feeling more restless than usual. Whereas the kids’ shenanigans previously amused you, they now surprised you. Even more so when they would jump from behind trees but fake scare you only for it to end up really scaring you. They laughed at first at your surprised squeal and the little jump backwards you made, good-natured as kids were, but by the fourth time it happened, a stern Boba rushed over, his hand on your back, and telling them off on how it was mean to keep scaring you like that.

Then your temperature rose. Only at night at first. Despite the evening cooling down and Chants getting, you kicked off your blanket more and more, wishing you could just take off all your clothes and bathe in a cool stream. Then it happened when people touched you. Altarf brushed your hand once when giving you a few dishes and it felt like your skin was on fire, making you flinch. The same happened with Paz, the big man frowning with concern when you jumped away from him when his hand landed on your shoulder.

(It didn’t happen with Boba. Or at least it didn’t happen like that with Boba. Boba’s touch caused a warm fire in your belly that spread outwards until your entire skin was gently tingling with the need to be touched by him. Which was perfectly normal, you tried to tell yourself.)

You flinched away not only from but from everyone who had not approached you loud enough or anyone who touched you. No, your clothes started to feel scratchy, ill-fitting and just way too thick. Sluice started to tease you about how you were always fiddling with the collar of your shirt, trying to get the cool late summer air onto your body.

Not to mention the smells.

Stars, the smells.

You had never really bothered with how the others smelled. Sure, you had been faintly aware of how Paz’s scent had changed when Sunshine had first joined and how they both had become more prominent. Or how Charlie, now having his own presentation, had gotten his own scent. Or how musky and woodsy and comfortable Boba smelled. But that was nothing compared to the stench they now all emitted – except for Boba.

It was like you could no longer stand being around them. The only people you tolerated were the kids and Bernie. But the person you sought out the most was Boba because he smelled divine.

If he noticed it, he did not show it but the important part was that you noticed. And you knew you didn’t have long until things would get serious for you.

Only that you had not expected it to get serious so soon.

The night was dark and quiet when you had snuck out of the truck. You tried to tell yourself it was because you could not sleep but deep down you knew it was because you were way too hot and even Chants – Chants! – started to reek so bad you could no longer spend even a minute in that truck with him.

You knew it wasn’t his fault. If anyone’s, it was yours. But so, you snuck out, into the cool night air that made your skin feel normal again and that was free of any stench because everyone was fast asleep in their cars. If you focused enough you could even hear Altarf’s snoring.

Being outside helped, you found, but as quickly as your body cooled down from the heat wave, just as quickly did it reach a temperature that had you shivering. Debating if you wanted to risk getting back to the truck to get you something warmer or if you could –

Your thoughts were interrupted by pain so bad it made you double over.

A split second of confusion gave way to the realization that you were starting your heat.

The muscles in your abdomen cramped up again and you gasped, falling to all fours as you tried to gather the strength to press your palm against your belly. The touch helped minder the pain a little but it also made you aware of how you were yearning to be touched.

You wanted to feel hands on you – in your – and your pussy to be filled and someone to sink his teeth into your neck and mark you his.

Who were you kidding you didn’t want someone, you wanted Boba.

Tears of frustration and fear stung in your eyes and you tried to even your breathing.

This was okay. Everything was okay. It was not the first time you had your heat and it would not be the last time and hell, if you had gotten through it before, you would get through it again. Didn’t matter if it felt like your body was burning up from the inside and the only thought that made it better (and then much worse) was that of an unattainable alpha claiming you.

“Shit,” you cursed, furiously wiping at your cheeks, “Shit shit shit shit!”

Someone’s shoes appeared in your field of vision.

It was none other than Boba.

A breeze rustled the trees and his scent filled your nose, sending a wave of calm through your body. Closing your eyes was involuntary but you did not mind because your body felt so much lighter now. It was like a weight had been lifted off your chest and you could breathe.

He smelled even better than before, the scent of pine wood and something you could not yet pinpoint driving you crazy. You could feel your temperature rising a few degrees and suddenly it all came rushing back to you. The frustration, the fear, the panic, the desire.

“You okay?” Boba asked, sounding very concerned.

You could not help the way your bottom lip trembled as you allowed yourself to admit that –

“No,” you breathed out, “I’m terrified, alpha.”

He sank down to his knees in front of you. Your eyes immediately fell to his crotch and you were ashamed to admit that the first thought you had was to reach out and undo his zipper, to try and see what he

Thick arms wrapped around you and pulled you out of your thoughts and into his chest. His body exuded warmth that yours had been missing and you relaxed into him. His hands were on the back of your neck and your lower back and his touch caused pure warmth in you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, just like you had dreamt of, and breathed in his scent.

In a movement so small, you barely registered it, his nose brushed over your neck and you gasped softly.

“I know,” he said, his lips moving against your skin, “I know, princess, I can smell how scared you are.”

“What if I fuck it up?” you gasped into him, trying to hold the tears at bay. Your hands grasped at the back of his flannel, the fabric not feeling as repulsive as your own clothes, “What if – what if Chant can’t sleep because of me and we get attacked and he cannot defend himself and – and what if it is all my fault?”

A sob wrecked your body and you huddled closer to him.

For the longest moment, Boba did not say anything, merely holding you to him as you tried to gather yourself. Having him so close, with his hands on your body and your nose pressed against his neck, made it that much easier to calm down. You felt safe with him.

“You will sleep in my truck,” he stated, then, “I can bunk with Chants.”

“But – but –“

“Omega,” he interrupted you warmly and your mouth snapped shut, your brain short-circuiting at him calling you that, “You will have your heat, there is no question about it. You need rest and a safe place to nest and soft things. My truck has that and all the privacy you could desire.”

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to form in your eyes (again), “Thank you, alpha.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered that calling someone by their presentation was something intimate, something special. But it felt right, calling Boba that. Because if anyone was your alpha, it would be him. You could not imagine anyone else having the effect on you that he did. And you did not want anyone, except for him, to have that power.

His nose brushed over your scent gland again, this time right behind your ear, properly scenting you.

“Oh,” you whimpered, feeling a trickle of arousal gather in your panties. You clenched your thighs, he

Boba growled, his chest rumbling against yours, “Fuck, I’m sorry, omega, I shouldn’t have –“

He pulled away, ever so slightly, his hand cupping the side of your neck and the trickle became a wave when his rough fingertips brushed over the sensitive spot.

“No!” you protested quickly, a little too loudly, maybe, but you did not care if it meant you could have him scent you again, “Please … I – one more?”

The alpha in front of you froze and your eyes fluttered closed when his fingertips continued to caress your neck.

“You want me to scent you?” he asked and you were too far gone to notice if he sounded surprised. But what you did notice was how his thumb rubbed gentle circles onto your neck, how his eyes seemed a little darker in the light of the moon and how his scent seemed to get just a little bit stronger.

Shyly, you nodded, deciding to throw all caution into the wind. “Yes please, alpha.”

There was that rumble in his chest again, the one that made your pussy pulse and your thighs clench. But you could not even pretend not to be affected by his ministrations. Not when his nose, making your body break out in the best kind of shivers.

“That okay?” he asked against your neck and the fact that his lips were touching your skin now, the hint of his tongue peeking out again the patch of skin, made you almost feel blind with lust. “That feel good, princess?”

“Uh huh,” you brought out, tilting your head back so he had better access.

“Sweet little omega,” his lips grazed your ear before he moved his mouth back to where you needed it most, “Good little omega.”

His hand moved back to the back of your head, holding you against him and keeping you this and that way so he had the best angle to lavish your neck with attention. You allowed him to manoeuvre you as he needed, knowing instinctually that you would be rewarded in the best way.

And oh stars were you right about that.

“Smell so fucking good,” he grunted, his hips snapping against yours, “Bet you taste even better”.”

You did not know what made you come. His filthy words, the idea of his mouth, the feeling of his teeth on your skin, threatening to mark you or the outline of his hard cock against your flimsy sleep shorts, pressing right into your clit.

Maybe it was a combination of all of those things that had you stifling your moan against his neck and your vision going white. That had your pussy pulsing and clenching around nothing and your folds getting even wetter with your release.

You knew the first orgasm of a heat was the hardest to achieve. Which made it all the more surprising that it had been so easy with Boba. You were so stunned that you did not even have it in you to feel the slightest bit of shame at how needy you were. How you had just come undone in front of him like it was always meant to be.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear before gently untangling himself from you, “Feel better now?”

You nodded quietly, still reeling from what had happened but also feeling drunk on his pheromones.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his hands helping you stand up onto shaking legs, “Let’s get you into bed, sweet thing, wouldn’t want to keep you from your nest for too long.”

You could only hope that he would join you.

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut #apocalypse!boba vibes

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wendytestabrat · 3 months

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creek & kyman’s parallel as opposites attract ships (FROM THE VAULT [2020])

I didn’t even give a shit about Creek and it never even crossed my mind back when it was a crack ship but when it became canon I started to ship it and look more into it. I honestly think Tweek & Craig are really good for each other, and Creek is a classic case of opposite’s attract. Tweek is all neurotic and overly emotional and anxious while Craig on the other hand is chill and gives zero fucks lmaoooo. And yeah since they’re so different they can fight sometimes because they don’t always get each other, but I think they make each other better because of their differences. Craig knows how to get Tweek to like calm tf down and chill out, like it was shown in “Tweek x Craig” how Craig gave Tweek the confidence he needed to act and put on that performance when they pretended to break up lmaooo. And Tweek on the other hand has been able to bring out Craig’s softer gentler more emotional side, because Craig is very caring towards Tweek and we don’t really see this softness from Craig with anyone else in the show. I really think Creek might be the healthiest canon ship on the show and the most positively portrayed, unlike Heiman and Stendy jesus fuck. Especially since “Put it Down” which is one of the best modern episodes of the show, I feel like that episode portrayed their relationship really well. It was an episode where they did get into a disagreement, but they were able to communicate with each other and work it out in the end which every healthy relationship should do. I mean all couples fight and disagree with each other sometimes, no couple is just sunshine and rainbows getting along 24/7, but it’s whether or not the couple can work out their issues in a communicative way that forms a healthy relationship. But back to the opposites attract thing, I really feel like Kyman is similar to Creek and could work too for those reasons. I mean Cartman & Kyle are total opposites (even though Kyle is more like Cartman than he thinks). Kyle is super neurotic too, just like Tweak, and he’s a rule follower and Kyle is obsessed with trying to be a good boy and everything, Cartman on the other hand is the complete opposite and just does whatever the fuck he wants, breaks the rules, and is completely reckless. I think Cartman & Kyle could both make each other better, because Kyle would get Cartman to be less of a shitty person and do more good things LMAO and Cartman could get Kyle to stop being such a little cranky bitch all the time and loosen up more and have fun.

#creek #kyman #tweek x craig #south park #KYMANRANTGARBAGE #CREEKRANTGARBAGE

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andofone · 11 months

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SNS fic rec

I have found lots of SNS fics that I think deserve even more love and recognition, so buckle in and here we go!

-PS, if you don’t want your fic on this list, I will take it off.

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O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot? by Skyheaven

Naruto thought he could impress his crush by landing the role of Romeo in their school play. With Sakura playing Juliet, it would be the perfect way to get close to her. So how is it that he ended up being forced to play the modern version titled Romeo and Julian with his arch rival Sasuke instead?

(It’s a full, flushed out fic. It was a joy to read through)

(This is part two - a POV change to see what Sasuke is thinking, I strongly recommend reading after the first.)

And Julian is the moon by Skyheaven.

Ever wonder what Sasuke went through when he got stuck playing the romantic lead together with Naruto in their school play about Romeo and Julian? Here's the answer.

A pov change of the fic 'Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot?'

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The Frog Dealer by lilypheria

Naruto’s trusty frog wallet breaks down after years of faithful service, and someone delivers a new one to his office. Naruto is elated, not caring if it’s proper for the Seventh Hokage of Konoha to wander around with a wallet like that. But then he starts to get even more deliveries to his office—frog-shaped keychains, fridge magnets, everything you can think of.

Naruto has no clue who has found out about his affection towards frogs. But the gift giver is closer than he thinks…

(It’s a adorable one-shot. What else could you possibly want.)

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Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

(Another wonderful, simple one-shot. Easy and very nice to digest.)

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In Good Company by weialala

This will sound a little ridiculous, no matter how Sasuke phrases it. I see dead people is embarrassingly tacky, and I'm half-spirit seems like something Sakura might say when she's stoned sky high. So he settles for a shrug.

(This is a gem of a fic. Highly recommend.)

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Iced coffee with extra base by Dotec_1

Working in a cafe certainly isn’t the worst thing, that is if you find a certain raven a few tables down.

(Not too long, just 25,000 words and a good plot.)

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Fire & Wind by Cyllia

Wind and fire: it's the most powerful combination of elements there was. So when Sasuke, the most talented fire elementalist in his year, pairs with Naruto, who has the greatest air element seen in centuries, they should've been the most formidable team in history. Yet they can't seem to win one match.

(OH MY GOD, okay, this has got to be one of my favorites on this list. And these are all some of my favorite.)

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all i want to do, just like this by lunoiere (aeon_uriel)

"Good morning," he whispered, content, and peaceful.

Naruto's nose twitched, still asleep. His lips were pursed to form a pout that somehow looked even more childish in this state.

Sasuke's smile got wider and wider and something in his chest bloomed and exploded.

Unbidden, a thought passed by: he loved that man so much it was unreal.

Sasuke gets another reminder that waking up with arms around his waist and the smell of sunshine filling his lungs means opening his eyes to yet another good dream.(Because Naruto is there and he’s never leaving.)

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I hope this gives you some good reads!

And if you want more, check out another SNS rec I created here

#ao3 #ao3 fic rec #sasunaru #SasuNaruSasu #sns #ao3 is why i dont sleep #fic rec #naruto #Sasuke Uchiha #sasuke is amazing #Naruto Uzumaki #narusasu #amazing things #some of these people should be authors fr #enjoy

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604to647 · 23 days

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Mi Galleta (Part 3 - Salted Caramel)

4.5K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Dating Pero feels like a dream, until you overhear something that makes you question everything.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), dating Biker!Pero needs a warning (check out the ✨vibes✨), allusions to smut (reference to oral, unprotected PiV, aftercare, fingering, semi-public sex), dirty thoughts, the bike helmet stays on 🤷🏻‍♀️, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), misogynistic, classist and degrading language used to talk about women (not by Pero, but... you'll see).

A/N: A friend of mine once told me that the restaurant business can be super misogynistic and I was actually shocked to hear some of her stories 😣 For our story, Lin isn't one of those types of establishments, but sometimes, bad eggs make their way into a good carton.

Series Masterlist

You wake up the next morning naked and snuggled into Pero’s side, your arm draped over his broad chest. Trying not to wake him as you carefully climb out of bed, you look back and admire Pero’s peaceful face, much soften with sleep and framed by hair messy and tossed from the previous night’s activities. Gosh, he’s so handsome. Even the scar over his left eye is becoming one of your favourite features; a fearsome token of some past violence that belies the softness of the gentle giant who bears it. You wonder if he’ll ever tell you where it’s from. Throwing on a camisole sleep set and robe, you pad out to the kitchen and leave your snoring Adonis to his rest.

Grinning to yourself lazily as you make coffee, your mind drifts back to events of last night. Of the multiple orgasms Pero pulled from you with his skilled mouth, hands, and cock. Of the heaviness of his balls on your tongue and how sweet and salty he tasted as you worked his length down your throat. God the things that man said in bed: calling you a goddess one minute, then his dirty fuck doll the next, all while you bounced cock drunk on his lap. His eyes, however, never expressed anything but devotion and wonder, grounding you even as he made you shudder and convulse in pleasure. Humming contently while cooking eggs, you’re pulled from your daydream state only when a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and patchy scruff tickles into your neck where Pero whispers, “Good morning, Cookie.”

Turning in his arms, you immediately lose yourself to the searing kiss Pero lays on you. He had missed you the moment he woke up and found himself alone.

After Pero accepts your invitation stay for breakfast, he sips on his coffee and takes in your apartment; you’ve decorated for a clean and classic aesthetic, it’s not overly opulent but there are obvious touches of luxury and understated elegance that trim the furniture and personal items that litter the grand space. You catch him admiring the breathtaking panoramic view of the city through the window wall running down the length of your apartment, “Really nice place you have here.” He doesn’t miss your slight wince at his compliment; blink-and-you-miss-it, but he catches it before you smile, almost apologetically, “Thanks. It used to be an investment property of my parents’. They gifted it to me when I started work in the city to help me out. Or to claim the tax deduction.” You make the joke, not sure why you think you should feel embarrassed? Because normally, you’re not. You love your place and you’re so grateful to your parents, but you don’t want Pero to think you’re some type of… freeloader? You're not even sure where you head is at with this.

Sensing your discomfort, Pero sweeps you into his arms; kissing you gently, he explains, “I just meant, this place is beautiful and I can tell you’ve poured yourself into making it a home. It’s calm. And welcoming. I see you everywhere here.”

Your chest swells with emotion and a little embarrassment at how quickly you had gone on the defensive; Pero’s been nothing but kind and sweet. Face still buried in his shoulder, you nuzzle in even closer to envelope yourself in his warmth and whisper, “Thank you. It’s my favourite place in the world.”

Over a delicious breakfast, Pero asks you what your plans are for the day and you tell him all about the famers’ market you like to visit on the weekends. When asked if he wants to join you, Pero looks thoughtful, “I’d love to, Cookie. But I have to work at 3:00 today… and I had planned on making you come a few more times before that.”

Giggling at his shit-eating grin, you cross to the other side of the table where Pero is sitting and climb into his lap, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Over you, under you. On every surface of this gorgeous apartment, Cookie. Gonna give you a couple more reasons for it to be your favourite place,” nudging your nose with his a few times, Pero urges you to open your mouth and let him in. His kisses are unhurried, long and sweet; sated with good food and the promise of unfettered access to your body, Pero feels no reason to rush. Fingers finding the knot of your robe, he works it loose with his nimble fingers and opens the garment to reveal the soft satin number underneath, “My my, what do we have here, princesa?” Pero licks his lips and his eyes darken as he takes in the way you shiver and your nipples perk up and tent the delicate fabric when he slides the robe off your shoulders.

You never make it to the farmer’s market.

Dating Pero is like something out of a movie. Most nights you enjoy decadent, late dinners with Pero after he gets off work; he takes you to some of the city’s most celebrated and exclusive restaurants, always entering through some hidden staff entrance and eating in private rooms or employee access only areas. Whenever you ask about paying, Pero waves you off and say there’s a restaurant staff quid-pro-quo arrangement with Lin. You’ve never heard of any type of restaurant industry secret community, but you suppose it’s possible. Either way, the food is always impeccable and the company is dreamy.

Being a biker’s backpack is one of the most unexpected, yet fun things you’ve ever experienced; you love riding with Pero. Some nights, he’ll take you for casual, aimless rides in the city, just weaving through the busy streets; the city lights always seem to be brighter and even beautiful when whipping by in streaks. Other times Pero will pick a farther destination under the guise of trying a bakery or some local delicacy, taking you out on the open road for longer rides. You think you like these rides more; when you’re alone on a highway or side road, you’ll egg Pero to go faster and he will just to amuse you, loving when you squeal from excitement and hug him tighter.

Pero loves taking you out on his bike, too; he loves the weight of you against his back and the feel of your hands wrapped around him and the way they press up against his stomach, and, if he plays his cards right, grip and rub his thigh. When he lowers his speed, he’ll hold one of your hands in his glove, loving the way your slender fingers intertwine with the leather. He should buy you gloves, he thinks. He does buy you a helmet.

Surprising you one day after work, Pero, looking like a dreamboat, turns heads in his sleek dress clothes topped with his motorcycle jacket as he leans against his parked bike. Crying out in delight when you see him curbside in front of your office building, you practically leap in his arms before slotting your lips over his in a hungry kiss. Not caring if your co-workers see, you open your mouth to Pero’s and let him lick into your mouth slowly and sensually; he cradles your head in one of his big hands, the other pressing you flushed to his broad frame. Pero on the other hand wants your co-workers to see (and maybe even hear) as he worships your soft, supple lips with his own, his hands working their way lower on your body until they’re both full of the plush globes of your ass. Mine, he brags, as he massages and gropes, turning you into putty under his touch.

“What are you doing here, Pero?” you exclaim happily, thrilled by the surprise.

“Took the day off today, Cookie. Thought I’d come grab ya, surprise you with a present.”

“A curbside pick-up and a present? What did I do to deserve this?” You’re still learning not to be surprised by Pero’s thoughtfulness. Turns out you didn’t have a clue just how thoughtful he could be because you’re positively floored when he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a helmet smaller than the one he wears, and holds it out to you with both hands.

“For me?” A question more rhetorical than anything, you’re astonished as you reach out to accept.

Pero is pleased by your reaction, “For you, princesa. Gotta protect that pretty head of yours.”

“Should I feel special? Or is this the helmet you keep on hand for all the girls you let ride… your bike?” your eyes crinkle mischievously, leaving no doubt of the double meaning to your words.

But Pero isn’t about to let this romantic moment get away; he turns the helmet in your hands so that you’re looking at the back before he leans in to plant a soft peck to the upturned corner of your mouth, “Brand new just for you, Cookie.”

You look down and see that on at the very back, near the base of the shiny black helmet, is a small silver etched cartoon of Hello Kitty baking cookies. You love it! It’s so cute. So you. Pulling the helmet over your head, it smells brand new and you feel the baby pink lining personally picked for you fit snug against the sides of your head; definitely not a shared helmet. Internally, you swoon.

“I love it!” you call out loudly so Pero can hear you through the thick plastic. Grinning big back at you, Pero helps adjust your chin straps before playfully flipping down your visor, “Looking good, hermosa. Ready to ride.” He winks at you before helping you up onto the back of the bike and putting on his own helmet. You’re overcome; it’s more than the fact that Pero cares for your safety. Your heart flutters at the idea that Pero is planning for future bike rides with you, frequent enough that it warrants you getting your own gear. When he takes off, you hold on to him tighter than necessary.

---

That night, he fucks you on all fours, naked except the helmet. The protective headgear muffles your pornographic screams of ecstasy, while the sensory deprivation amplifies every orgasm he pulls from your overwrought cunt. After he paints your insides white, Pero runs you a bath to help soothe your strung-out body; cradling you in his arms under the steamy water, he asks if you might like to do that again, but where he keeps the helmet on as well. Sleepily, you tell him the truth, “Anything for you, Pero.”

The next morning you come twice while riding him just from watching the way your tits bounce in the shiny reflection of his helmet visor.

Sleepy Sunday mornings with you are Pero’s favourite. The two of you still naked from the previous night’s lascivious activities, bodies tangled in your crisp bed sheets, just talking; he’ll press soft kisses to your hair while you draw endless designs on his chest with your perfectly manicured nails. It’s as close to domestic bliss as Pero’s ever felt.

“Cookie, don’t take this the wrong way…”

You tilt your head up to see Pero smiling indulgently and raise your eyebrows to play along.

“Why aren’t you married to some rich investment banker, living in a mansion and being treated like the princesa you are?”

You can tell it’s a genuine question, not meant in any way to be insulting; you think you also read unspoken questions in Pero’s eyes: Is that the life you want? What are you doing with me, then? Something to get out of your system before you settle down?

You lay your head on Pero’s chest, chin resting on your hands as you try to be thoughtful about your response.

“I probably could be, if that was what I wanted? I’ve dated those guys before, I grew up with a lot of them, and they can be nice enough. Although, I suppose some of them aren’t.” Pero’s eyes darken at this but lets you continue. “It’s just that with everything they do, they… I guess, maybe a way to describe it is, they lead with money. Having money, making more money, showing off what money they have – it’s what drives all their decisions. It’s core to who they are or who they want to be.”

You take a deep breath, “And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it doesn’t mean they are bad people. But, I don’t know? My measure of value and success has never been wealth. I just… never want money to define me like that. I wouldn’t want to feel like it’s my identity.”

Pero seems quiet, giving you a chance to add, “I know that that’s a very privileged thing for me to say. Money is important, and I’m very lucky to not have to worry about it. I’d just want to live a life and be someone, be with someone, that contributes beyond that.”

You sigh. It sounds silly even to your ears; first world problems, indeed. But Pero pets your head lovingly, lightly massaging your temples with his thumb and reassures you, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Cookie. I’ve seen the way you care for your friends, and the love you hold for your family. Life has treated you well and you don’t take it for granted. You carry yourself with gentleness and pour kindness into everything you do. Everyone you meet or is lucky enough to know you is made better having had a chance to bask in your sunshine. Including me. Especially me.”

Pero’s sweet words have you tearing up. You’ve suspected it for a while, but now you’re sure that of the two of you, he’s the kinder one; he of the tender heart. You remain convinced that it must be some sort of cosmic prank that one of the most deeply feeling men you’ve ever known makes his living being intimidating and scaring people on purpose. You think you’re falling in love with him.

“You’re so different than people think you are,” you whisper, contemplatively.

“Oh, how’s that, hermosa?” he gives you a deep scowl, not unlike the one he wore when you first met, but you’re not fooled. You don’t think that scowl will fool you ever again. You crawl up his body, and break up your words with soft kisses all over Pero’s neck, jaw, face, lips, “So you’re a little grumpy. But grumpy is a mood, not who you are. You’re fiercely loyal; maybe you don’t have a million friends but the people you decide to let in, you treasure. You’re a friend for life. You’re hardworking and you love what you do; and even though you’re supposed to be intimidating for your job, I’ve never seen you treat anyone disrespectfully. More often than not, you lead with kindness. And you’re so generous! Both with your time and your good humour. And thoughtful. The most thoughtful man. You’re always so considerate of my heart and feelings – don’t think I don’t notice when you do things just because you think they might make me happy. I’m so lucky, Pero. Maybe I’m not living in a mansion, but I’m already being treated like a princess.”

“You deserve it, princesa. And more,” Pero wraps his arms around you and rolls you gently so you lie beneath him, caged in by his strong arms and his heavy gaze, “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” you whisper, before closing your eyes and letting Pero show you how deeply your words have affected him.

Once, you asked Pero what he loved the most about riding a bike, and he told you it was probably the sense of freedom and also calm that the open road brings him; then throwing you a wink, told you that having a pretty backpack to show off was getting up there.

Your favourite part of rides with Pero is ironically when you’re not riding at all, but when you’re stopped by the side of the road for a breather, to take in a pretty view, or if you just can’t wait to get home to sample the food you rode all that way for. You’ll sit on the backseat and Pero will sit with his back against the fuel box facing you, the shared food placed in between. As you savour the trip’s procured delicacy, Pero will pull your legs off the back peg and massage the back of your calves lovingly, melting away the tension built up from the long ride. Inevitably, he’ll start to inch his hands higher and higher; how far you let him go really depends on how horny you are that day. Most of the time, you're wet with want for Pero by this point of the ride, powerless against how adept he is at turning you on – once, while you were parked in a rest area right next to the highway, he had walked his hand up your skirt to stroke you over your soaked panties so expertly, you had been one shudder away from just letting him finger fuck you to completion while unsuspecting traffic zoomed by. You don’t tell Pero, but lately you’ve had an increasingly vivid fantasy of sinking down on his cock and riding him on his bike out in the open, public decency be damned, until you both come, moans drowned out by passing commuters who get the show of a lifetime.

As it is, sex with Pero leaves you breathless and more than fulfilled. He worships your body and reaches parts of you that you didn’t even know existed, setting you on fire with his every touch. His particular brand of filthy dirty talk combined with gruff praise, gets you shockingly wet every time; just the memory of his low baritone growling ‘good girl’ in your ear can have you distracted and fantasizing about his dick at the most inconvenient of times. More than once, you’ve had to turn off your camera during a work video call, afraid that your colleagues would be able to read your far off, cock drunk expression for what it is.

You’re definitely falling in love with him.

“Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never been to Pero’s place?” you wonder out loud. You’re not sure it bothers you, but it’s something you realized only recently.

“No? Not weird… but I didn’t know you hadn’t,” says Eloise, surprised.

Dorothy doesn’t even look up from her magazine, “No, it’s not weird at all, babe. I mean, I’m sure your place is way nicer than his.”

“Maybe. Well, I don’t know really, I guess,” you crinkle your nose.

“No, babe, it’s definitely nicer. Maybe he thinks his place isn’t good enough for you. Or maybe he’s too scared to find out if you don’t think his place is good enough for you,” Dorothy says with certainty.

You can’t imagine Pero being scared of anything, “That kind of thing doesn’t matter to me.”

“We know it doesn’t!” sympathizes Eloise, “But if you’re thinking about it, why don’t you just talk to him about it?”

You nod; you think the next time you see Pero, you will.

The next day, you make your now typical lunch time trip to visit Pero; when you walk into Lin’s lobby, it’s empty but that’s not unusual. Walking over to the reception desk where Pero works, you see that his computer is on so you decide to just wait until he comes back, unpacking a small container of snickerdoodles you brought for him in the meantime. As you put the container on the desk, you’re surprised to hear voices coming from the small alcove for the staff elevator hidden in the corner of the lobby.

“Heard you got yourself a designer pussy, Tovar.”

“Best part of working in restaurants like this is getting a shot at all these rich sluts who wouldn’t normally look twice at you on the street, but now they want to slum it with the kitchen staff.”

“Hey, come now…” That’s William’s voice, you realize; the other two you don’t recognize.

“Oh you’re a married old fart, but I’m sure you’ve got some of these wannabe trophy wives throwing themselves at you. You can’t expect us to believe you’ve never had a taste!”

“Yeah, how you can look at that piece that Tovar is tapping and not want a slice for yourself?”

“Or do you guys share her? She into that?”

“Fuck, if she’s into that, then please, please call me the next time she wants to go to Paris. Better yet, bet she’d pay for an actual trip to Paris. Chick probably has more money than she knows what to do with. Let her pay for that good dicking, yeah?”

“A couple of us have a little competition on who can bag the hottest, most desperate sugar mama from the restaurant. You want in, Tovar? There’s a prize for who can keep it running the longest too. You’ve been banging her for a few months now, so you’re a shoo in for that. So fucking easy. All you gotta do is give these dumb rich bitches a little bit of attention and they’re opening up their legs… and cheque books like that.” You hear a finger snap, followed by loud, spine-chilling cackling.

You think you’re going to be sick. You’ve never heard such misogynistic, classist, and honestly vile talk in your life; you’re about to march over to the alcove where these assholes think they’re so cleverly hidden and given them a piece of your mind when you hear Dorothy’s name.

“Your girl got that friend, Dorothy? Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk, wanna tap that snobby, entitled pussy so fucking bad. She’s always strutting around the restaurant like she owns the place; want to put her in her place… on my cock.”

“Introduce me, Tovar. Or you saving her for yourself? This skirt you’re fucking now is just a stepping stone to a bigger, richer fish? Hey! Kudos to you man, but do me a favour – when you’ve moved on and up, send that pretty thing over my way for some comforting. I’ll make sure she’s fucked so good she doesn’t even remember your name.”

You haven’t heard Pero’s voice at all during this stomach-churning exchange; you keep waiting for him to speak up and shut down this type of talk, when you hear the cruelest sound you’ve ever heard.

Pero’s laugh. He’s laughing. Then you hear William join in, and soon all four men are laughing uproariously. At you. At your friends. At women. Women who have the means to dine at this restaurant which apparently means they’re stupid, desperate, and not worth any respect or even the decency of being treated like human beings with feelings. All of this is what Pero thinks of you. Every cadence of his ongoing laugh is sharp like cruelty itself, piecing and shattering your heart. You didn’t even know there were men out there that debased and demeaned women this way; how could you have let one into your life, your bed. Your heart. They laugh for what feels like forever; you can’t stand to listen to it anymore and you flee.

---

Pero can’t help but laugh at what fucking idiots this busboy and dishwasher are. They were spewing such despicable garbage and they fucking dared to talk about you in any such derogatory way, and did so with big smug grins – did they seriously think there wouldn’t be repercussions? No fucking way anyone could be that dumb, he laughs. William joins in on the same wavelength as Pero. The laughter crescendos for a while before William catches his breath and manages to choke out, “You guys don’t even know...” Still laughing, one of the idiots manages to ask, “Know what?” And that’s when Pero goes silent, grabs the asshole by the neck and shoves him up against the wall, “You don’t even know how much shit you’re in, talking about my girl like that.”

“Hey dude, we were just kidd-,“ the busboy doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Pero reaches out and William shoves him into Pero’s outstretch hand.

“Shut up. I talk now.”

Though gritted teeth, Pero growls menacingly, inches away from the dishwasher’s face, “You piece of shit. You don’t deserve to think about her. Talk about her. Or share the same air as her. If you ever go near her, you’ll be eating through a tube.”

He slams the busboy up against the wall next to his friend, “This is what is going to happen, William’s going to take you upstairs, and you’re going to thank him, because it was me, you’d both be losing blood before the elevator doors even closed. You will get your things, and you will never fucking set foot in this restaurant again. You’re fired. Your last cheques will be mailed to you. Never come back.”

He punctuates his point by pulling back and shoving both frightened men into the wall again, harder than before, hands firm on their throats, “…I’m this fucking close, just give me a reason to squeeze.”

“Pero.” William’s voice is barely audible through the thick cloud of rage fogging up Pero’s brain. He felt physically disgusted at the way these two morons had talked about you and that they had even thought about you in the manner they were describing. His sweet Cookie - the kindest and gentlest creature he had ever known. That these assholes had contemplated laying a finger on you made him see red. Never mind they trying to taint your friend, or any woman at all, with their gut-less filth. They had said there were others like them, he seethed; he would root them all out and deal with it today. If he could find it within himself to let go of their necks, that is.

“Pero.” William’s second attempt to bring Pero back down to earth finally ringing through. He lets go, and the two pathetic excuses for men slide down the wall they had been pinned against, gasping for air.

“Every restaurant worth working at will know what kind of shit you pull with their female patrons, don’t ever bother trying to apply for another restaurant job ever again. Get the fuck out of my face now.”

William roughly hauls the two idiots into the staff elevator and out of Pero’s sight as quickly as possible, lest Pero failed to contain his rage any longer.

Taking some deep breaths, willing himself to calm down and for his breathing to even, Pero walks back to the front desk hoping there aren’t any patrons waiting in the lobby. When he gets to his seat, his heart plummets. There, on his desk, is a container of cookies. From you. You had been here. What had you heard? It couldn’t have been anything good because you had left without making your presence known. He’s desperate to see you, comfort you. Pero frantically rushes out the front doors and looks up and down the busy sidewalk, but you’re long gone.

Fuck.

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern au #modern!pero tovar #no y/n

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geralts-yenn · 10 months

Text

Hearts Too Big

Modern AU Melot (Tristan&Isolde) x OFC x Mike (Hellraiser)

summary: Nina goes on a camping trip with her boyfriend Mel and his cute neighbor Mike. Plenty of feelings - that’s the whole plot

warnings: alcohol and drug use, vaginal fingering, anal fingering (F/M receiving) oral (F/M, M/F, M/M ), vaginal sex, anal sex (F receiving), double penetration

word count: 10,4k (sorry!)

Inspo boards

A/N: I told @raccoon-eyed-rebel (in a tumblr post that I can’t find anymore) that I had plans on making Mikey her partner in Ray Of Sunshine. This exploded into a whole universe of its own in our heads (we share our brains from time to time) and you will get a lot of biker boys in the future because I know Nina won’t stop asking for more. This one got quite big, quite queer and quite Nina-indulgent. It’s Melot and Mikey, it’s bi and it’s polyamorous, so if that’s not for you, feel free to NOT read it. And if that doesn’t draw you off, enjoy! This one was really hard for me to write, took me a month, I went through highest highs and lowest lows. And I feel both excited and anxious posting it. So please, more than ever, tell me what you think about it! I need feedback for this one, every word from you will mean the world to me!

Not a good idea! Not a good idea at all. Nervously, you gazed at the hands of your boyfriend, drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was playing. His eyes lit up as he met yours through the rearview mirror, and your heart stopped for a beat. You were still so madly in love with Mel.

But then you turned your head to the passenger seat, where Mikey sat. His feet were folded under his cute butt as he tried to make sense of the map that lay in his lap.

You had really tried not to crush on him. But soon after he moved into the apartment next to Mel, you knew you had no chance. It was absolutely impossible not to fall for him. Which meant you were screwed. Well, until yesterday you had at least thought you were safe, just ogling Mike from afar and maybe sometimes including him in your little daydreams. Until Mel told you about that ugly break up between Mike and his boyfriend that had left him crying in the hallway. Mel wanted to cheer him up. They had become friends and Mel wanted to be there for him. And this meant Mel asked you to take Mike with you on your trip along the coast.

You had been planning it for weeks. Mel had bought the old camper van, you both spent your free time working on it to make it more comfy. You had planned every segment of the trip. And most of all, you had planned where you wanted to fuck. Because, to be honest, the main purpose of this whole trip was to fuck Mel the whole day and night everywhere you were going to stop. That wouldn’t be happening now.

You said no at first. Not only because you would rather not cancel the main activity that you had planned, even more so because you were panicking at the thought of having to spend days in a small car together with those two. You wouldn’t be able to hide how much you were attracted to Mike. And you couldn’t hurt Mel.

In the end, your brain decided to stop working when Mel gave you this look of a sad puppy that you could never resist and you agreed. Mel had asked Mike to join you and the boys were soon making the last preparations for your tour. You sat next to them and just watched them talking and laughing. Yes, you were definitely screwed. All you could think of was kissing them. Both!

You stared at the map in front of you. Not that you really tried to find the right direction. You just needed to keep your eyes from Mel and Nina. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea to agree to join them. But to be fair, you hadn’t had your best day yesterday. Why did you just always manage to destroy every relationship you had? You really liked Will. You tried to make it work. But Will soon got jealous. And rightfully so. Why couldn’t you just stop thinking about others? About Mel. About Nina. Your heart was just too big for one person.

However, going on a trip with the exact two people who were, unbeknownst to them, responsible for your break-up, was probably one of the worst decisions you had ever made. Now it was too late. Somehow you were going to make it work. Hopefully, without making a fool of yourself and without ruining another relationship.

A hand brushing over your thigh got you out of your thoughts. You sucked in some air in surprise and raised your gaze to Mel.

“Could you please hand me a bottle of water, Mike?” Mel looked at you, and it took you a second to comprehend that you were supposed to do something. Right! Getting some water for Mel. You turned to the back of the van, where Nina’s head was sunken onto the side of the car. She looked too cute, her mouth slightly open as she was sleeping. Now that explained why Mel had asked you for water and not Nina who was sitting next to the cooler. You needed to crawl back to reach it. And as you did so you couldn’t hold yourself back, you brushed some strands of hair from Nina’s face, your fingers lingering probably a little too long on her soft skin.

As you handed the water to Mel, your hands touched for a moment. Your heart dropped a beat and there was this fluttery feeling in your stomach that you knew far too well. Oh no, it was getting worse. You were going to fuck this up badly.

You couldn’t be happier. You exchanged looks with Nina, sitting in the back seat, humming along with the music. Then you moved your head to watch Mike as he ruffled his nose, scanning the map. You had no idea why Mike was so focused on the map at all, you knew the directions you had to take. But you didn’t complain because you really liked how your friend looked so much happier than he had yesterday. Something about seeing Mike next to you made you feel excited, you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was exactly.

You stopped around midday at a small parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Nina had told you that there had to be a beautiful lake with a waterfall nearby, and you decided that this should be the spot to take your lunch break. The three of you packed some food and water in your backpacks and went on your way to find the lake. It took you only a few minutes of walking. Nina spread a blanket on the grass, and you all sat down cross-legged, munching on your sandwiches. Mikey jabbered without a pause, making Nina laugh. You leaned back onto your arms and closed your eyes, taking in the warmth of the sunlight, the smell of moss and wood, the gurgling sounds of the waterfall, Mike’s deep voice and your girlfriend’s bright laughter. It was just perfect.

After you had finished your lunch, Nina took off her shoes and strode along the way through the shallow waters on the shore. You took the opportunity alone with Mike to check on him. The whole day you had been wondering if he was doing okay. Well, as okay as someone could be the day after they got their heart broken. He was a lot calmer than usual, and you really hoped that he didn’t regret coming with you. You put your hand on Mike’s shoulder. “How are you? Can you cope with me and Nina?” You nodded over to your girlfriend who was trying to make pebbles jump over the water.

Mike looked at you through his lashes and smiled. Or attempted to smile because somehow it looked odd. Not his usual cute beam.

Fuck! What were you supposed to say? ‘I’m falling hard for you AND your girlfriend?’ That wouldn’t be smart. So you just nodded.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I really appreciate that you try to distract me. And it’s working.” Working a little too well, to be fair. You turned to watch Nina. She was so cute, attempting to skip stones over the surface of the lake. And she was giving you a nice view every time she bent down to grab another pebble. You’d better get back to Mel. He was watching his girlfriend, too and the look on his face was just so adorable, you could kiss him right here and now. Damn it, Mikey, what made you think spending a whole weekend with the two of them would be anything but a disaster? You were desperately trying to think of something else when a gush of cold water startled you, making you and Mel both jump up in surprise. Nina was snickering, proud of herself for making both men scream like school girls. But as you started to run into the lake, she screamed herself and tried to get away from you. Mel followed foot and you both chased her down, ending up in a tangle of limbs and giggles when both of you finally lunged for her.

When you stood up again, all three of you were laughing and spluttering. And your heart was about to burst. Having them both in your arms was just the best feeling ever.

If you didn’t want to wreck another relationship, you had to retreat. You stepped back, waddling towards the shore and sat down on the grass. A heavy lump formed in your stomach as you watched Mel and Nina. They were laughing and kissing and running their hands all over each other’s bodies. It was the most beautiful thing ever and yet, it crushed you to look at it.

You pulled your wet shirt over your head and dropped it next to you. Mel and Nina’s kisses were getting more intense and your body reacted to it. Carefully you tried to adjust your pants, which wasn’t really successful as they were dripping wet, too. So you got up and walked into the woods, trying to bring yourself to reason.

You had noticed that Mike was leaving you alone, and you wondered what he was thinking. It wasn’t very empathetic of Mel and you to give Mike such a show while he was trying to get over his heartache. It was just so hard not to get handsy with Mel when he was standing so close to you, completely wet.

You pushed Mel away from diving his head into your cleavage. He pouted at you but as he saw the concerned look on your face, he understood.

“We better get going,” he just said and turned to walk back to the shore. He was still hard, and you just hated to see him leave like this, but you knew it was the right thing to do. When you had packed everything, Mike was back too, and you headed back to the van.

You changed into dry clothes, but the guys decided to just switch to new shorts, neither of them bothering to put on a shirt.

Great! So now you were not only stuck with your boyfriend and your crush, no, now you had to endure them half naked for the rest of your ride. Which luckily didn’t take too long, and somewhere along the way you even managed to think of something other than being sandwiched between the two of them.

You had picked out a small secluded cove for the stop of the night. Mel and Mike went to gather some wood for a campfire. Meanwhile, you rearranged the van to build comfortable beds for Mel and you and Mike. The pop top roof was meant to be your bedroom and Mike got the back of the van to himself. You even arranged some fairy lights on the ceiling, making it look more romantic and comfy.

As the boys got back, you all worked together to make yourself some pasta for dinner. And after that, you spent the evening at the fire, talking and laughing.

At some point, Mel took his guitar and started to play. You leaned your head on his shoulder and stretched your legs over Mikey’s thighs. You didn’t even think about what you were doing. It just felt natural and somehow domestic.

After two beers and a shared joint, Mike got all talkative again, telling you the most ridiculous stories about his love life. You hung on every word he spoke, and Mel did the same. You cuddled together around the fire and everything just felt perfect.

“And then I rubbed a whole glass of honey all over my body, from my neck down to my toes. I was completely covered with that sticky mess. Don’t ask me what I was thinking because I wasn’t! And then she sent me a text that she wouldn’t come over. So, I had ruined my phone, and it took me the entire night to get myself and the bedroom rid of that sticky shit. Advice from me: Don’t overdo things for food play!” You giggled. “Who the hell bails out of the opportunity to lick you clean?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. You bit your lip in regret, but the guys just laughed at your comment.

Mike cocked his head. “I think I am talking way too much. What about your most stupid sex accidents? I want to hear, please!” Mike was just as successful as Mel at making the most adorable puppy eyes as he looked at you two.

Mel snorted: “Not nearly as entertaining as yours, Mike, but I once tried my best to show my dominance and threw that girl onto the bed only to break my toe on the bed frame the next second. So I was curled on the floor, crying like a baby, instead of manhandling her. Ruined the mood pretty quickly!” All three of you chuckled at that before the eyes of both boys turned to you expectantly.

You turned away shyly, not wanting to appear boring. “I don’t really have anything to tell,” you admitted. “I am not that experienced in this area.” You felt the heat crawling up your neck and ears.

Mel sensed your discomfort and pulled you closer in his arms. “We’re working on it, babe!” he told you with a wink

You knew it wasn't going to be easy. But in no way had you expected how much this whole trip would mess with your heart. There was only so much longing a man could handle. And this was too much.

You had to focus on every word, on every movement tonight, not to let the affection you felt for Mel and Nina show. Maybe you weren't trying hard enough. The way your heart started racing when Nina put her feet in your lap. And the way Mel looked into your eyes as you tried to hide your feelings by telling all these stupid stories. Surely, they must have seen how much you felt for them?

As you lay in your bed and stared into the darkness, you debated with yourself whether you should open up about your feelings. But did you really want to risk your friendship? Their relationship? No, you had to suffer in silence.

You chuckled sadly as you recognized the sounds coming from the roof. They were trying to be quiet. But of course, they couldn't be so careful that they were completely silent while fucking in an old camper van. There were the creaks of the old vehicle, the stifled moans, the small giggles. You imagined what it would be like to join them. It wasn't difficult, you had pictured them in your head before. And after this day, where you were able to watch them and feel them… It was easy.

Your hand slipped into your boxers. It wrapped around your hard cock, and you started to stroke yourself slowly, with a tight grip. It was hardly enough to still your desire, but you could at least ease a little of the tension that had been building up the whole day. Nina’s small whimpers shot straight into your guts.

Then there was this grunt that must have escaped Melot's lips. You tried to hold back your own sounds of pleasure as you rubbed your thumb over your leaking tip, spreading the beads of pre-cum all over your dick. You thought of how their bodies slammed into each other. How Nina's wonderful tits bounced as Mel rutted into her. You pictured yourself being part of it. How you would lap at her core, how you would kiss him and let him taste his girlfriend on your tongue. How you would tremble when his hands finally touched you.

Shit, you had lost all control, panting heavily as you looked down at the mess you had made all over your chest. Surely, you had been too loud.

But you could still hear them. Maybe they hadn't noticed, in their own euphoria.

You feared you wouldn't find sleep at all, but this storm of feelings had brought exhaustion with it, and you fell asleep shortly after your shameful rapture.

You almost fell asleep at the fire, snuggled against Mel and Mike. You felt so happy, so cared for. Your heart was full, it felt…complete.

Mel had taken you back to bed at some time. And as you climbed up to the mattress on the roof you were immediately awake again, hungry for Mel's touch. You needed him now.

As you pressed your palm against the semi hard cock in his boxers, he hissed.

“We need to be quiet!” he told you, only to groan once more, when your fingers circled over the sensitive spot on his frenulum. Happy to draw this reaction out of him, you giggled.

You freed his cock, which was far from semi by now. His boxers were already ruined from the pre-cum that leaked from his slit.

With soft, open-mouthed kisses you descended from Mel's lips, moving over his whole chest until you reached your destination. Your tongue darted out to lick at what was left of the salty evidence of his arousal.

Closing your lips around his swollen tip, you started to move your head up and down, your cheeks hollowed. You would never get used to how good he felt in your mouth. Your hand came to aid, wrapping around his shaft, close to his root and mirroring your movements.

His muscles tensed with every little bit of sensation you gave him.

The air in the tent was damp, and sweat was running down your spine. You stopped for a moment, thought you heard something, but you didn't notice anything now.

Melot guided you to look at him. He gave you a pleading look and hooked his finger, silently telling you to get up to him.

When your faces were pressed against each other again, he whispered in your ear:

“I need to fuck you so badly, baby!”

You happily obliged and straddled his thighs. It wasn't easy to move in the cramped space of the van. When the car creaked under your actions, you suppressed a giggle.

After finally finding a comfortable position, you raised your hip and sank down again, this time with Mel’s cock stretching you open.

Both of you needed to move slowly, but after the constant buildup of sexual tension throughout the day, it took little to bring you pleasure. You felt every twitch, every bit of friction inside of you. And when Melot's fingers pinched your sensitive nipples you couldn't hold back some whimpers.

You looked into Mel's eyes, his face glowing from sweat in the shine of the fairy lights. His self-control was just as close to being shattered as yours.

Leaning back, you found a new angle that hit you exactly where you needed him. The rhythm to which you moved your hips got faster. You were almost there. Your hand ran up Mel's inner thigh until they reached his balls. They were drenched in your arousal.

He clenched his jaw as you ran your fingers up and down to spread your juices even further. Leaning forwards, you found access to move your fingers briefly between his cheeks.

The sound he made as you slowly brushed over his tight entrance was almost enough to make you cum.

Your eyes met and you shared a small smile.

Slowing down your rhythm as you tried to catch a breath, you heard him: Stifled moans, coming from below. Your pussy clenched around Mel's cock as you thought about what Mike was doing to himself.

You had stopped moving but Melot rutted into you, jerking his hips up as hard as he could.

Mike must have been close now, by now he had completely forgotten to stay calm. Your gaze fell upon Mel and what you saw just turned your whole world upside down. This pained expression in his eyes, full of longing and desire, it wasn't meant for you. It was all for Mike.

As you sat by the fire, you thought about your day, and you came to the conclusion that it was just perfect. Better than it could have been without Mike, like you had originally planned.

No, it felt so good to have him with you. You all had so much fun.

When you had seen him the day before, curled up on the floor and crying, your heart broke for him. And seeing him now, laughing again. It did something to you: A warm feeling spread in your chest.

But now it was getting late. Mike had already gone to bed and Nina's head lay heavy on your chest now, too. You pulled her in your arms and carried her to the camper. As you stood at the ladder you still wondered how you could get your sleeping girlfriend up to your bed when she stirred in your arms.

“Put me down, Mel, I can walk!” Her voice was husky. You did as she told you, but when she tried to climb the ladder, you had to steady her, putting both your hands on her magnificent ass. Nothing to complain about.

The bed on top of the van was just beautiful. Nina lit up the fairy lights and dragged you down to her.

She was very much awake again, you noticed, as she pressed her soft body against yours.

As her hand found its way to your growing erection, you tried your best to keep quiet, not quite successful. It got even harder when she wrapped her beautiful soft lips around your cock. Pressing your heels into the mattress, you focused to keep at least a little composure not to wake Mike.

There was some rumbling down in the van and Nina stopped for a second.

It was a perfect opportunity to guide her up to you again. You were so desperate to feel her warm, wet pussy around your cock. Luckily, she needed you as much as you needed her.

She rode you way too slowly. Your dick craved every little bit of movement she gave you. You fought hard not to take over control and fuck her hard. Feeling for her heavy breasts and rolling her hardened buds in your fingers, also wasn't helpful to calm you down. You drank in the picture before you. She was so fucking gorgeous as she rocked her hips.

When she repositioned herself and let her hands run over your thighs, you lost it. Her fingers worked eagerly over all these sensitive spots. Spots where you hadn't been touched before. A loud moan escaped your mouth at the unfamiliar feeling. All this made you feel so needy.

Your eyes shot open as you realized what the sounds you heard, coming from below you, meant. Suddenly, there was this image of Mike in your head. You pictured him pumping his cock. You pictured his face, frowning in effort. You pictured touching him, helping him with his endeavors. Whatever it was that made you feel this way, you couldn't change it. And so, you just accepted it, as you fucked your girlfriend, thinking how desperately you wanted to kiss the man that lay in the bed below you two.

You stared into the night and listened to the noises that Nina and Mike made in their sleep. You weren’t able to stop thinking. What were you supposed to do?

As you realized that sleep wasn't an option anyway, you decided to get up. Maybe it was easier to form some clear thoughts if you got some fresh air, away from the soft and warm body of the woman you loved.

You carefully climbed down from the roof of your van and sat down by the smoldering fire.

By now you had accepted that there was more than just friendship you felt for Mike. But you still felt the same deep love for Nina as before. How was this supposed to work?

There was some rustling and, before you could turn, a pair of hands ran down from your shoulders to your chest. Nina wrapped you in her arms as she sat down behind you.

"We should talk!" she whispered softly in your ear.

"About what?" Your heart was pounding in your chest. Yet, you still hoped that she wasn’t aware of your feelings.

"About Mike!" Panic started to build in your center. So it was that obvious? After a deep inhale, you turned so you could look at Nina. You took her hands in yours and sighed. How should you even start a conversation like this?

But you didn't have to search for words as Nina began to speak: "Melot, I saw it. What you feel for him. Your face is like an open book. And it's okay. We can't fight what we feel. Just be honest with me, okay?" She looked at you with a shy smile and big eyes. You swallowed down a sob that tried to escape you. It was never your intention to hurt anyone. But that was probably what was about to happen as soon as you started to speak.

"I didn't know, not until I heard him. And it doesn't change anything I feel for you, babe. I love you!" It sounded ridiculous and yet, it was the truth.

To your shock, Nina started to laugh. Not the sad, sarcastic chuckle you deserved but her bright, joyful laughter that made you call her your ray of sunshine.

"Just look at us. So happily in love, and yet we both fall for someone else. For the same guy even." Your eyes widened when you perceived the meaning of Nina's words.

“Wait! What?” you stuttered. “You feel the same? What… What’s wrong with us, Nina?” This whole situation was becoming more and more like a dream. Your whole body was shaking and your eyes searched for Nina’s in hopes that she could somehow help you out of this nightmare.

And she could: “Nothing is wrong with us, Melot. It looks as if our hearts are too big for loving just one person.” She chuckled softly. “There’s enough room for Mike to join.”

Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes as you realized that Nina wasn’t mad at you. That you wouldn’t lose her. Relief rushed through you, it felt like a heavy stone was lifted off your chest. Nina pulled you closer into her embrace and kissed away the tears that had found a way down your cheeks.

Your voice was still trembling as you dared to speak again: “Nina, I was so scared you’d hate me! I don’t ever want to lose you!” She pressed a firm kiss onto your lips.

“Melot, you fool, you won’t lose me. I’ve never felt so much for a person as I feel for you.” With more kisses, you tried to calm your overflowing emotions. It took you a while until you finally could get back to talking.

“But what about Mike?” You couldn’t just ignore the affection that you both had for him.

Nina sighed and with a look on her face that told you she wasn’t nearly as sure about this as it sounded, she said: ”We need to talk to him. We should ask him if he wants to join us”

You shook your head in disbelieve. “Like what? Hey, you wanna fuck my girlfriend - and me?” Your voice cracked as you spoke the last words and panic rose in your chest once more. “Damn, that feels strange! I never…” You couldn’t end the sentence, but Nina knew what you wanted to say anyway. She pulled you closer once more and soothed you with her fingers running through your hair and the warmth of her body pressed against you. When she was convinced that you were as relaxed as one could be, who just found out that they were not as straight as they had always thought they were, she spoke again:

“Let’s take our time and see what happens. Maybe carefully test the waters. See how Mike reacts to us.” A reassuring smile spread over her pretty face. “If we’re lucky, we can share our love. And if we aren’t, we can share our heartache."

You spent way too much time hiding in the van after you woke up, not wanting to see either of them. You feared they had heard you last night and alone by thinking of it, you felt the blood rush through your ears. But that wasn’t the only cause for your retreat. You were sure you couldn’t face another day in their presence. How could you ignore your feelings? You were someone who carried their heart on their sleeve. You were someone who was expressive with their emotions. Keeping them shut away was completely against your nature.

But, you could brood as long as you wanted, at some point, you couldn’t ignore any longer that you really, really had to pee.

To your surprise, you found them sleeping, cuddled into blankets at the dying campfire. After you had relieved yourself, you got back to the camp. Melot and Nina were both stirring in their makeshift bed on the grass. You silently turned and decided to get more wood for the fire so you could make some much needed coffee.

When you returned with an armful of branches, Mel and Nina were both awake. They greeted you smiling, and you were grateful that, if they had noticed you tonight, they were kind enough to just ignore it.

Mel helped you to start a new fire and Nina prepared the coffee and cut some fruit.

There was an awkward silence as you all went about your work. But when you sat down on a trunk, Nina squatted down between your thighs and gazed softly at you with her beautiful brown eyes.

"How are you doing, love?" The pet name made your heart flutter, and you didn't know how to take it. Melot stood behind you and joined the conversation: "Are you still thinking of Will?"

You carefully chose the words for your response: "To be honest, it wasn't ever much about Will. Hell, this sounds mean, but it's the truth. We split up because I fell in love. And it obviously wasn’t Will I fell for." You closed your eyes for a second, thinking back to the awful last conversation you had had with your ex-boyfriend.

"He noticed how I looked at them, how I yearned for them." As you stared off into the distance, you didn't notice the looks that Mel and Nina exchanged with each other.

Nina put both of her hands on your knees and slowly brushed them up and down your thighs. Her touch shot straight to your heart, and you could barely hold back the moan that threatened to escape your mouth.

To make it even harder, Mel sank his palms onto your shoulders and massaged your tense muscles. Electric shocks ran through your body as they touched you like this.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" Melot asked, his voice dropping.

You bit down a sarcastic chuckle. "You are already doing too much."

You had the window rolled down and enjoyed the wind in your hair. On the outside you might have appeared calm, but there were a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Within the last twenty-four hours, the whole idea of your relationship had changed into something new. Something that had you getting excited but also scared.

The realization of Melot’s feelings for Mike had felt like a hit in your guts for a few seconds, until you admitted to yourself that it was only fair to allow him to feel the same way you did. And not long after, you came to the conclusion that it was probably the best thing that could ever happen to you, that your man shared your crush on Mike with you. The night by the fire with Melot in your arms, you felt closer to him than ever before and though you thought it wasn’t possible, it felt like your love for this man grew even bigger. Your thoughts drifted to another scene earlier that day that made your heart jump. Mike confessed he was falling in love. He didn’t tell you with whom. But maybe your senses didn’t trick you and there was something between him and the both of you. Maybe his heart was racing just as much as yours when he touched you. And maybe the way he looked at Mel when he thought no one was watching was really the yearning you thought you recognized.

You could have just asked him, but you didn’t dare. And so Mel and you chose to just tease the hell out of Mike and wait for his reaction. Mel turned to you for a second, as you were in the passenger’s seat today, and smiled mischievously. His hand dropped to your thigh and his fingers dug into your flesh. Yeah, you should take another turn teasing Mikey, so you got up and crawled between the seats, trying to give Mike a perfect view of your cleavage as you pretended to search for something in one of the bags in the back seat. You moved as slowly as possible, brushing your fingers along Mike’s calves, making it look like it was just an accidental touch. And with satisfaction, you saw how Mike tensed at the contact. He clenched his jaw and his eyes widened just for the part of a second. Yes, he wasn’t unaffected by you.

Mel stopped when he found another beautiful deserted beach. It was a hot day, and you decided that swimming was a better option than going for a hike.

You changed into your bikini in the camper and as you stepped out into the sun you smiled. Mel was standing with his back to you and Mike was close to him, rubbing sunscreen onto the tattoos on your boyfriend’s skin. You joined them, taking the sunscreen tub, and you started to work on Mike’s back. He felt so good under your hands. When every bit of skin on all three of you was cared for, you made your way into the waves. Mike and Mel had fun chasing you once more. The three of you were screaming and laughing and soon enough you had found yourself in an entanglement of arms and bodies again. It was just perfect, this was how you wanted it to be, from now on, until forever.

There were hands on your waist, and you couldn’t even tell to whom they might belong. Another arm wrapped around you and tugged you down into the water. You felt lips on your neck. When you turned, you looked into the eyes of your boyfriend, and they were sparkling with joy. He pressed a firm kiss onto you and grabbed your hand. As you followed him back to the shore, you realized that in his other hand he held Mike and pulled him with you, too.

Mel dropped down onto your blanket and Mike and you both followed him. Mel moved you to straddle him and shared a deep kiss with you. You answered him, opening up, letting his tongue enter and explore you. Mel's hands cupped your breasts through the thin, wet fabric of your bikini, sending shivers down to your core. But then you heard a frustrated grunt and pulled back. Mike sat next to you with an expression that you didn’t know from him. There was a deep frown on his face and if you were to guess, you would say he looked hurt.

When Mike saw that he got the attention of both Mel and you, he started to ramble:

“Sorry guys, I can’t take it anymore! You are both playing with my feelings! This might be fun for you, but it’s not for me. In fact, it hurts like hell. All your looks, all your touches, do you realize what they do to me? You are not helping me, all you’re doing is make me fall even harder for you two!”

That’s when Mel rushed forward. His mouth was on Mike’s before you could even blink. It looked awkward, there were noses brushing against each other, teeth clicking, as they were trying to find the right position, but in the end it was the sweetest kiss you had ever witnessed. And it was your boys who were kissing. They were yours.

You were so fucking nervous as you watched Mikey through the rearview mirror. He looked tired and tense. And yet, he was just so beautiful. Nina found ways to taunt him from time to time, and it was too cute to see him blush. When you saw the beach, you knew you had to stop. Just thinking about fooling around with them in swimwear made you lose your mind. And you were just about right. You weren’t even in the water before you were a total mess. Did you really have the stupid idea to ask Mike if he could help you with the sunscreen on your back? Well, you didn’t want to ruin your tattoos, right? But there you were, trying your best to hide all the emotions that you felt as Mike let his hands roam over your skin. They were soft and warm and yet, they gave you goosebumps wherever he touched you. He was so close. You just needed to turn and kiss him. But you couldn’t. Not yet. Nina joined you, applying some sunscreen on Mikey, and you did the same for her. As you went to extra lengths to take care of the sensitive skin of her breasts, you saw Mikey’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. It was really time to get into the cool water or else your heart would overrule your mind, and you would do things you just shouldn’t do. Nina was the first to run into the waves and Mike and you followed her. All of you were screaming and laughing, trying to get one another to dive into the water. Your heart jumped as you felt Mike tickling your side. Then you had Nina in a tight grip. You pressed your lips on her neck and sucked at her soft skin. First you looked into Nina’s eyes and realized that she was just as happy as you were. And then you turned to study the deep blue eyes of Mike. You saw that bittersweet expression that you knew from yourself. He was longing for you. For both of you most likely. You decided that you had to go all in now. There was no way to drag this out any longer without hurting someone. You grabbed both the hands of your girlfriend and of Mike and guided them back to the beach.

There was no plan you could follow, and your brain wasn’t working properly at the moment, so you just improvised. You dropped to the ground, taking them both with you. Not daring to touch Mike, you started to kiss Nina, pulling her into your lap. Her nipples, hard from the cold water, were peeking through the fine material of her bikini, and you couldn’t just ignore it. You cupped her breasts, deepening your kiss. Now you needed to find a way to let Mike know that you wanted to share this with him. But there was no need to because Mike was done with the teasing. He was so angry and it was so adorable. And as he confessed that he was really falling for both of you, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You pulled his face to yours and, your heart dropping a beat, you pressed your lips on his. It felt so different, so new. Your nose was in your way, and you were moving way too fast. But it was such a great feeling. Mike’s tongue was exploring you, and you sank your hand into his wet curls to pull him as close to you as you could. Nina, who was still sitting in your lap, wriggled between the two of you, and you finally pulled back to look at her. Your heart was racing. What if she changed her mind? What if she couldn’t see you kissing someone else? But then you saw her face and she looked happy and - proud. Her hand cupped Mike’s cheek, and she started kissing him just as passionately as you had a second earlier.

As you watched them, you felt your cock twitch in your pants. You wanted them, you wanted them both so badly. But just as you reached out for Mike’s chest, he pulled out of your embrace. He sat back, his eyes rushing from you to Nina and back to you. “Sorry, I need to know. Is this what you are doing here with me a casual hookup? Because I can’t do that. I can’t have my heart broken again.” Nina took his hand and answered him, a soft smile on her face: “No, Mike, we’re both so totally into you. We want to ask you if you would like to be part of what we have.” His eyes went big as saucers and his head turned to you, looking at you quizzically. You nodded. “You have to be patient with me. I’ve never been with a guy before. But I really, really can’t stop thinking of you.”

Mike ran with his hand through his hair, still a look of disbelief on his face. But then he grew a smug smirk from ear to ear. “I think I just won the jackpot!”

You started kissing again, taking turns. Your hands were exploring each other's bodies. The sensations were overwhelming. Mike felt and tasted so different but just so good. The bulge in your pants grew with every touch. And then a hand pressed against your erection. Your gaze dropped: The hand belonged to Mike. For a moment, you froze in your movements.

Mike must have sensed your hesitation because he removed his hand from between your legs and cupped your cheek instead.

"Relax, we're just having fun. If you're not comfortable with something, let me know. But please let me try to make you feel good." His words soothed you. You covered his hand with yours and let your forehead sink against his.

"Okay!" Your words were barely a whisper. Mike rubbed his nose against yours, the cutest smile on his face. The kiss that followed was sweet and gentle.

When he pulled back, Nina replaced Mike's spot on your mouth. You decided to close your eyes and just let whatever was about to happen, happen.

There were lips and hands all over your body. A gasp escaped you as a hand slipped into your pants. They were sticky and wet, and you were eager to get them down. When you managed and your cock sprang free, you heard a deep moan. You opened your eyes and saw how Mike and Nina exchanged looks, Mikey biting his lip in anticipation.

Turning your attention to Nina, you pulled on the strings to undo her bikini top and both Mike and you grabbed a handful of her tits. It didn't take long until Mike replaced it with his mouth. And then you felt Mike's hand, skin on skin. Damn, why did this feel so good? He stroked you in slow motions. When his mouth left Nina's nipple he grinned at you.

"This is heaven! Boobies and dick, all for me!" You were totally in love with this stupid dork.

Somehow you found yourself lying on your back on the blanket. Nina was kneeling next to you, apparently just as excited as you, as Mike slowly descended your body. He pressed wet kisses on every bit of skin that he passed, until he stopped just inches away from where the tip of your cock lay heavy on your ab.

"Come here, baby!" you told your girlfriend and dragged her leg over you. You pushed her bikini to the side and guided her to sit on your face.

Nina was soaking wet and you devoured both her delicious pussy and the sweet sounds that she made in response.

And then you felt Mike's wet, warm mouth. "Fuck!" To silence any other profanities that dared to escapeyou, you kept your tongue busy drawing circles around Nina's pearl.

Mike knew exactly what he was doing, he found every spot that needed attention. It was sloppy and eager and you really had a hard time not forgetting that there was a pussy in your face that should be cared for.

When Mikey started to hum with your dick deep down his throat, you lost it. You threw your head back. "Damn, Mike, you're really making it hard for me not to cum."

Nina giggled as Mike hummed once more. They were fucking teases. She had moved and you couldn't reach her with your mouth anymore. Instead, she gifted you the best sight of your life: This curly head between your legs, your cock disappearing between those beautiful full lips and a pair of blue eyes gazing at you. And her own pair of eyes, switching between adoring that gorgeous guy giving you head and watching you, so much affection written onto her pretty face.

With her hands and mouth gently caressing you, Nina moved further down your body. Mike straddled your leg, making room for Nina to join him. And she did. They took turns, licking along your shaft, sucking you and kissing each other. You were so close now, it was hard not to shut your eyes and let go, but you needed to enjoy this for a little longer. You needed to see their beautiful faces hovering over your cock.

Nina stopped working on your dick and instead she moaned and whined, her eyes rolling back. You clearly recognized her O-face. Mike kept going, shoving you deep down his throat. Whatever Mike had done to Nina, he had brought her to collapse onto your side. She was trying to catch her breath, starfishing over your thigh. You took her hand and laced your fingers with her.

Mike repositioned himself and, pulling your leg up, he opened you wide. His fingers were wet, covered in Nina’s juices as they brushed over the sensitive area between your sac and your ass. “You want me to go lower?” His gaze was so lustful as he awaited your answer. Your voice broke as you mouthed a desperate “Please!”

Mikey’s finger carefully pushed into your puckered hole and at the same time he resumed his work with his mouth on your cock. You could hardly breathe at the sensation, your whole body felt like it was about to burst. And as Mike added a second finger, you were gone, seeing stars and shuddering uncontrollably as you exploded into his mouth.

It wasn’t by far the first time you rode your boyfriend’s beautiful face. But watching him getting a blowjob from this silly handsome boy while he licked and sucked at your clit? That was something else! You couldn’t even be mad when he stopped eating your pussy. You imagined what it must feel for him. And to be honest, you wanted nothing more in the world right now than to join Mike. You crawled down and settled on Mel’s thigh and Mike generously shared your boyfriend’s dick with you. Wait? Did you have two boyfriends now? Didn’t matter. You felt Mike’s finger running through your folds, and soon he had them deep inside of you. He found your most sensitive spot with ease and curled his fingers to hit you there over and over. You were a whimpering mess by now. Mike built so much pressure in your core, and when he used his palm to rub over your swollen bud, you snapped. You came undone, your juices gushing over his skillful fingers and your limbs finally gave out. You dropped onto Mel and couldn’t do anything other than breathe and watch Mike.

You could hardly keep your eyes open but you had to. And it didn’t take long until you felt Mel trembling under your body, and you saw Mike swallowing the seed that Mel shot down his throat.

A sound escaped you from deep in your throat and as Mike pulled away from Mel, your lips crashed into his. Your tongue tasted Mel as it brushed over his lips and when he opened them for you, the salty taste of Mel’s cum got even stronger.

All of this made you so happy, you could cry. In fact, you noticed there were tears streaming down your face. Mel reached out for you and pulled you into his arms. Mike joined you on the other side of Mel’s chest and both men stroked your hair and back tenderly. Mike cooed soft words into your ear and Mel pressed kisses on your and Mike’s hair.

“Are you okay, sweetcheeks?” Mike’s eyesshowed concern. You nodded with a sniffle. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just love this so much. I’m happy. I really am!” Mel and Mike both kissed your forehead. You relaxed and sunk onto Mel’s chest, unable to tell if it were seconds or hours that passed until you could form a straight thought again. And that first thought was guilt. You felt bad for Mike who was still in his soaked swimming shorts while Mel and you were totally spent thanks to him. And yet, he was soothing you and didn’t push for you taking care of him eventually.

You started to nestle on his shorts but Mike took your hands and pulled them up to his chest. “I know what you’re up to, sweetcheeks. But there’s no need to rush this. Mel and you both need a break. What about we’ll enjoy these cuddles a little more, then pack our stuff and get comfortable in the camper?”

At first you wanted to protest, but Mel stopped you. “He’s right, Nina. Come here!” His lips felt warm and soft and his taste soothed you as his tongue found its way into your mouth. A sigh escaped you when he retreated and his lips left your mouth.

But it was only a second that you lacked his warmth and smoothness, as Mike’s lips closed the gap that Mel had left.

The three of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. When you woke up you thought it was just a dream for a second, until you realized you were still resting your head on Mel’s chest and Nina’s hand was tangled in your hair.

The rest of the day was just a happy bliss, feeling so comfortable around them now that no one had to hide their feelings anymore.The time was filled with more swimming, some shared sandwiches and those teasing little caresses that the three of you shared. Those caresses that made you want to take it further. But you wanted to do this right, you really felt so much for them already, and you'd hate to mess things up by rushing them into a situation they were not ready for. A little part of your heart still feared that they would regret their decision.

That was until you took the last bags to the van. Nina and Mel were in the back of the camper and you overheard them talking:

“Mel, I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know, it’s so fucking perfect, isn’t it?”

“When I saw you with him… Damn, Mel, my heart melted!” “Stop it, I’m getting a boner just by thinking about how you two looked with my cock in your mouths.”

You cleared your throat before you opened the tailgate further to climb onto your mattress with them. There was no need to talk, they must have seen what you were craving as you kissed them hungrily. Mel didn’t hesitate to pull down your shorts. But then it was Nina who first took your hardening cock in her hand.

"Wow, did that hurt? That’s cool! When did you get that? Does it do anything for you during sex? Can I touch it?" she blurted out, making you laugh.

“Yes, it did fucking hurt, I got it when I was 18, it was a bet with a friend. Yes, it does something to me during sex. Best lost bet ever. And I’d love for you to touch it.” Nina bent down to examine your reverse prince albert piercing. Carefully, she let her fingers brush over the titanium ring and the pre-cum that leaked from the pierced flesh.

"It's gorgeous!" she remarked and you groaned as you watched her licking her fingers. Mel and you shared the same thought as you both pawed at Nina to get her rid of her clothes.

Your piercing still had her very interested, as she sank her head into your lap and drew lazy circles around it with her tongue. Mel watched you, his fingers working on Nina and stroking himself. Oh, this was going to be fun!

She got you moaning and panting in no time, though the other two weren't exactly more subtle with the lewd sounds that left their lips.

"Doing so good for us, baby!" Mel cooed, massaging the soft flesh of her ass. Oh, she liked that, you noticed, as she squirmed.

"Such a good girl for us, just look at her, Mel! So eagerly sucking my dick!" Nina whined needily at the praises.

You expected Mel to start fucking her, her rear pushed up high, inviting him. But he had other plans.

"Babe, where's the lube?" Nina couldn't answer him with her mouth stretched around your cock, so she just waved a hand into the direction of some bags. You were about to pull back to let her speak when Mel was successful in his search and started to coat his fingers.

When Mel entered her tight hole, Nina sucked on your dick like her life depended on it. You felt it shooting deep through your body. Cradling her head in both your hands you thrust into her mouth, drops of saliva running down Nina's chin and your thighs. She was so fucking gorgeous, whining around your cock.

Mel added another finger, you felt it as Nina responded to it with more desperate moans and her technique getting to a point where it was just a hair's breadth from being uncomfortable.

Mel laid back, his head resting against the back seat. “Come here, baby!” Nina followed his orders and let him guide her to lean her shoulders on his chest, his hands on her hips as she slowly descended, his cock stretching open her puckered hole. When he was buried in her to his hilt, Mel covered her neck in kisses and little bites and more words of praise, whispered into her ear.

You devoured the sight in front of you. Mel spread Nina's legs open wide over his thighs so you could see her dripping pussy, squeezing out more of her arousal as it clenched around nothing.

There was no way you wouldn’t dive between her legs. You lowered yourself, wrapping your arms around Mel’s thighs to keep you steady and put your mouth against her. She tasted like heaven, you thought, as you lapped through her open petals. When the tip of your tongue rolled over her swollen clit, Nina let out a moan. Was this your doing or Mel’s? You tried again, pressing your tongue down on her. This time there was no doubt you were responsible for her reaction. She repeated that sweet sound and her hand pressed your head to her core. She wanted to make sure you stayed exactly where you were. You took the invitation and kept doing what she longed for, dragging more moans and profanities from her lips as you kept working on her. Mel’s thrusts got faster, and you had to adapt your rhythm to follow him. You increased speed and pressure, and right when you thought your mouth was going to get numb, you heard Nina screaming your name, followed by a deep grunt from Mel. You looked up at them with a smile. Mel locked his eyes with yours and guided you to get up. Kneeling in front of them, Mel pulled you close and locked his lips with yours. His tongue darted out, desperate to taste Nina on you. When you pulled back, Mel brushed his thumb along your jaw and rubbed it over your lower lip. “Please fuck her, Mike. I want to feel you move inside of her cunt.” You gasped at the thought of it.

Yes, you really wanted nothing more than this. You asked if you needed a condom, but as you were all clean and Nina was on birth control, there was no need to. So you finally aligned yourself at her entrance and sank your cock between her soft, warm walls.

Your heart raced as you were finally united with them. It took you a whileto find a position in which you were both comfortable, and able to bottom out because damn, you needed to feel as much of this as possible. When you had found the right position, you started to move. Feeling Mel thrust into Nina made it hard for you not to cum on the spot. Taking deep breaths, you focused on your motions. Your hips moved in a slow rhythm and your mouth searched for Nina and Mel and soon your bodies were moving in sync. As Mel pulled out you pushed in. Nina was alternating between whimpering and screaming whenever you left her lips.

When Mel bit down hard on your lip, you knew he was fighting, too, to hold back his release. You kissed down his neck, sucked at the soft skin behind his ear and, between your own moans, you told him: “Cum for me, Mel. Cum for me and Nina!”

“Fuck!” Mel grunted, and he started to rut into Nina’s ass relentlessly, not holding back any longer. You stopped moving, just feeling how Mel’s dick pressed against yours as he moved. And you felt Nina clenching around your cock, close to her own climax. Mel threw his head back, another “Fuck!” pressed through his teeth. You held him, keeping him and Nina in place and resumed thrusting into Nina’s pussy. You didn’t hold back any longer either, and it took you only a few more strokes until you released yourself into her. It was hard not to collapse onto the mattress, but you needed to check on Nina. Mel was already pressing kisses on her cheek, but you held her close and started to kiss her other side. “Was I too fast for you?” you asked her, but Nina chuckled in return.

“You were fucking me senseless and didn’t even notice?” she asked, making all of you laugh. And then the three of you settled down onto the mattress, a chaos of arms and legs and heaving chests.

It took you another two hours of cuddling, talking and kissing until you were ready to head back home. All bags were stowed away, Nina crawled into the backseat and Mel was sitting behind the steering wheel, waiting for you to get in.

Your eyes drifted back to the beach where you kissed them for the first time. The memory of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach at that moment made you smile. You’d had the perfect day here today!

You reached out for the passenger door handle of the van, but then you stopped. With a smirk on your face, you opened the rear door instead. „Would it be too mean if I spend the drive home in the back seat with Nina?“ you asked, giving Mel your best puppy eyes. He just shook his head in return and chuckled, which you took as his okay.

Dragging Nina‘s legs over your thighs, you started kissing her before Mel was even out of the parking spot.

You had one hand in Nina‘s shorts, the other one under her shirt and your tongue down her throat when you heard Mel‘s growl. „Just so you know, we‘re taking turns driving and making out in the back seat, okay?“

3 months later

When you put the comforters on the bed, your gaze wandered through the room. There were still a lot of boxes littered all over, but it already felt comfy. It felt like home.

You smiled as you saw Mike's arm wrapped around Mels broad shoulder when they entered the room. Could they be any cuter? Your heart swelled with love and pride at the sight of your boyfriends.

"Is this your pillow in the middle?" Mel asked with a raised eyebrow as he looked at the oversized bed. You grinned mischievously at him.

"No way you'll get the middle spot. It's mine." Mel jumped onto the bed and grabbed your pillow. Before you were able to react in any way it landed in your face.

And so, the next moment, three grown adults found themselves in a pillow fight.

Mel had you pinned to the bed, ready to tickle you until you gave up, when Mike dropped next to you with a huge grin on his face. "Hey peanuts, stop it! I’ve got the solution."

Mel stopped his attack but didn't let go of you just yet. You both looked expectantly at Mike.

"I will give up my chance to get the middle spot. And I know how to decide which one of you two earns it." He paused for a more dramatic effect. "You compete with each other -" another pause and Mike's smile growing even wider… "in a blow job contest!"

That smug bastard was so proud of his idea. You just laughed. But Mel took your pillow and threw it to the side of the bed, winking at you. "Make yourself comfortable over there, then, baby!"

Then he slid down to kneel between Mike's thighs and started to unbutton the jeans of his boyfriend.

#hearts too big #my writing #mikey hellraiser #mike hellraiser fanfiction #mike (hellraiser) x ofc #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#melot fanfic #melot fanfiction #modern au melot #melot x ofc #melot #mike hellraiser fic #hellraiser mike #polyam relationship #polyamory #bi biker boys

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renxzs · 1 year

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Aelin Week - Day 6: Rowaelin | @rowaelinscourt | AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Aelin is having a very bad day… or week. Okay, more like a very bad year. She’s in dire need of a little kindness and comfort. Although she tries to deny herself of it, feeling utterly undeserving—Rowan Whitethorn will deny her none of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: basically shameless smut (18+ only), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depressive thoughts, Aelin desperately needs a hug, mention of parental deaths, coworkers who become..a bit more, modern au

I won't always have the words to pull you back from the dark.

But I will always be here to sit with you in it and take your hand or wrap my arms around you until it passes.

For every day of sunshine there will be a night of darkness,

but I want to spend both of them with you.

—S.K. Williams

Arobynn Hamel, her prick of a boss, slowly shook his head as the crease between his brows deepened. He flipped harshly through the pages of the case folder she had handed him moments ago.

Aelin’s body went rigid, preparing for whatever verbal lashing he was about to spew. Entirely negating the amount of time and effort she poured into this case over the last two weeks, discounting hard work she was actually proud of.

She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his condescension had on her, how truly deep it sometimes cut. She maintained a look of impassivity and waited.

“This is your best work? Really?” Arobynn scoffed derisively and leveled her with a hard stare, contempt rolling off him. Aelin focused on breathing steadily through her nose.

“If this is it, then I need you to do the fucking best of someone better.” His words were small glass shards being hurled at her, slicing and stinging upon contact. She curled her shaking hands into tight fists on her lap, nails digging into the flesh of her palms.

Today had been shit, the general week a living hell.

Then again, Aelin couldn’t honestly say many of her weeks spanning the past twelve months have been much different.

This weekend marked the one-year death anniversary of her parents. One year since the tragic accident that had left her entirely alone in this world. One year since unwavering guilt and shame had settled and made a home in her chest.

Spoken out of hurt and anger amidst a heated argument, those final words to her parents only a handful of hours before they were just… gone would haunt her until the dark god came to claim her.

Aelin could usually endure Arobynn’s volatile mood swings and mistreatment—weather the rage storm and emerge from his office relatively unscathed.

But this particular week…?

The very moment consciousness had greeted her this morning, she knew she should have stayed curled under the blankets and out of reach from the rest of the world.

Aelin expelled a long breath. It did nothing to relieve the heaviness twisting in her gut and weighing in her bones. It was a marvel how one could feel so heavy yet utterly empty at the same time.

She tipped her drained glass towards the nearby bartender. “Another, please.”

A moment later, a new glass was slid in front of her and her eyes fell to the sloshing liquid. She must look as pathetically dejected as she presently felt, considering the very generous pour.

A chill of awareness pricked across her nape and skittered down the smooth curve of her spine as a presence sidled up next to her. Quiet flutters stirred low in her belly, and Aelin cursed her traitorous body’s response to his proximity.

Because of course it was him—she knew it was him without needing to look. It was as if she had a preternatural sense specially tuned to him. And she’d been more than aware of his presence across the room—felt him all evening. Those piercing green eyes boring into the back of her.

Aelin refused to look at him. “Can I help you, Whitethorn?”

“You know,” he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the bar top next to her. “Agreeing to drinks after work typically entails actually sitting within the remote vicinity of those who extended the invitation.”

Aelin lifted the glass of dark amber liquid to her lips and took a long, pointed sip before speaking cooly, “I’m here for the drinks, not the company.”

Rowan slid into the vacant stool next to her.

Not easily deterred, then.

A few silent minutes passed between them. Rowan patiently waited, watching her still. Aelin inhaled a long breath as frustration started to build. Couldn’t he just leave her alone to sulk in solitude?

“What do you want, Whitethorn?”

She couldn’t fully tamper the edge in her voice. All the better though. Maybe he’d take the hint and finally rejoin his rightful group of coworker-turned-friends.

The heat of Rowan’s gaze flitted across the side of her face. She took another drink.

“Are you okay?” His soft sincerity caused her chest to constrict.

“Christ, Aelin—what do I even pay you for?” Arobynn flung the heavy file folder back across the desk at her. “Being a pretty face around the firm? You barely manage that lately.”

Her eyes closed against the resurfacing memory. The slight burn of unbidden tears pricked in her nose. Aelin sniffed then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine.”

Aelin met his stare in challenge, to show just how fine she was. But her voice had sounded strained, even to her own ears. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rowan either, if the gentle look of disbelief and concern were any indication.

Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. She couldn’t stand him looking at her like that. She didn’t need his kindness or concern.

Didn’t deserve it.

Yet Rowan is always so fucking nice to her. Checking in during the day and inviting her to outings with their coworkers. Most recently, he’s started bringing his lunch over to eat at her desk once he realized she was never going to take him up on the invitation to join him and the others in the break room.

Time and time again, he has tried to scale the icy fortress she’s spent years carefully constructing around herself. Yet his efforts seemingly remained undeterred, even with her doubled efforts to keep all others out throughout this past year of hell.

Aelin threw back the last of her drink. She needed to get away from him before he made a crack in her barrier. Only the gods know he’s come close before. And something deep, deep down screamed at her to let him do it.

But once he did crack her open, only to find cold, ugly darkness seeping out—what then? He’d inevitably discard her like everyone else. Because why would he want that? Why would anyone?

She couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t risk the hope of maybe having him just to lose him and have her chest hallowed out once more.

Aelin slid from her seat and threw a few bills onto the bar top.

“Hey, hey—Aelin.” Rowan reached for her arm.

She whipped towards him with a withering glare that could usually send anyone running. Rowan didn’t falter.

“Talk to me,” he implored.

“Why do you even care?” She demanded.

Still seated, Rowan tugged her into the space between his legs. A quiet sadness swirled with the flecks of deep green in his eyes.

“I just… do.”

Aelin’s heart felt crumpled and emotionally stripped.

Home. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed. Wanted to be done with this day—this dreaded weekend.

“You shouldn’t.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from wobbling. Her gaze lingered in the direction of their coworkers huddled together in a circular booth. Laughing and joking and clinking glasses. Rowan should be over there with them, not here attending to her mess.

She averted her eyes upwards, blinking a few times to keep impending tears at bay. A calloused hand smoothed down her arm until he wrapped his hand around hers. He squeezed gently.

“What do you need?”

A single tear streaked her cheek. Rowan’s free hand gently wiped it away. He kept quiet, but she didn’t even know what to say. What did she need?

So many things, all seemingly out of reach.

So often the silence was deafening and the loneliness gutting within the dark place she’s locked herself, behind the icy fortress wall. Numbed for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to live.

The silence stretched between them before she finally rasped, “To feel something.”

Rowan traced a thumb along her cheek. “Then let me help you feel.”

His words hung between them, their implication glaring and heavy. Every nerve in her body roared for his touch, his kindness, his comfort. Him.

Aelin’s denied herself of all of it for so long, from anyone. Let alone from this beautiful man who refuses to let her fade to the black nothingness constantly on the brink of consuming her whole. This man who has unknowingly taken hold of her beaten down heart, bit by bit.

Just this once.

Just this once she could allow herself to give in, to want him. Just for tonight.

Her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, “Yes.”

His small answering smile so soft, so warm, it made her chest ache.

Aelin toed off her heels before stepping past the entry way. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, tidy and warm. Her focus snagged momentarily on a bookshelf nestled against the far wall. The spines a variety of colors, sizes, and conditions of wear. She was inclined to step closer and nose through what kinds of books filled his shelves, to gain a small insight into his mind—

Rowan moving deeper into the living room caught her eye though, and she turned to watch him ease onto a plush sofa. He offered her one of his rare soft smiles, then reached a hand out.

“C’mere.”

Aelin approached him slowly until she stood between his parted legs. He looked so good like that, splayed out lazily. Lap and warm smile more than inviting. Heat emanated from his large hands as he gently gripped her hips. She didn’t resist, allowing him to settle her astride his muscled thighs.

Her form-fitted work skirt rucked up to her hips so her legs could accommodate his width. Deep green eyes devoured the newly exposed skin, tracing calloused hands up the soft flesh before hooking behind her to pull her impossibly closer.

Aelin’s stomach curled and skin pricked with the intimacy of their position. Never imagined they would ever be this close—never allowed herself to.

Rowan ran a hand up her back and she arched gently into the touch, chest pressing into his. It’d been so long since she was last touched like this. Her body craved it.

So did her heart.

She closed her eyes against that thought.

“This is just sex.”

Rowan hummed noncommittally. He brushed loose tendrils from her face and smoothed them behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she settled her gaze back on him.

“I’m serious, Rowan,” she hedged.

He nodded softly, running a thumb along her jawline, over her bottom lip. “Is that truly what you want?” his voice hushed.

Was it? No. At least she didn’t think so. But…

“It has to be,” she whispered, resolute.

His eyes pierced through her, burned to her very soul. As if he could unearth all of her darkest thoughts and secrets and turn them to ash.

“Why?”

Because I am nothing. Worthless. And you should be running—away from this, away from me.

She wanted to push him away, protect him from herself. Instead her fingers flexed in the soft silvery hair at his nape. The tightness in her chest splintered out as unwanted emotions and thoughts bubbled to the surface, a familiar numbing ache seeping into the hollow parts.

A slow, sad shake of her head. “I have nothing to give.”

Something crumpled behind those pretty green eyes. Then Rowan pulled her face closer, grazing his lips over hers. “I don’t want anything.” The featherlight touch of his lips as he spoke sent a chill up her spine. “Just you, Aelin.”

His words… the way her name sounded on his tongue—it fractured something deep within. And she was helpless to the sob that racked up through her body. No one has ever wanted her before, not for just her.

“Shhh,” Rowan soothed. “I’ve got you.” He gently wiped the salty streaks from her flushed cheeks. Ran soothing fingers through her long golden waves. Held her so close to stave off any fears that he’d let her go. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Aelin nuzzled into the crook of his neck, too far past the ability to feel embarrassed over her tears seeping into his shirt collar and skin. Rowan didn’t seem to care anyways. So she sunk into him—reveled in the strength and warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her. Tentatively allowed herself to be comforted by his unyielding presence.

It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and the dampness on her cheeks nearly dried that she pulled back to find eyes open and searching, a gentle caress across her face.

She stared back, in disbelief of this man and his kindness and his heart. Always so stoic and broody to the outside world… but for whatever reason she’d always had a special pass to the softer, gentler parts of him. Gods knew she’d done nothing to earn that trust of vulnerability.

But she was… thankful, anyways. And she wanted him to know. She could at least give him this.

Aelin swallowed then placed a gentle hand along his jaw. “Rowan…” she rasped, voice not sounding like her own, hoarse with spent emotion.

The rest of her gratitudes died on her tongue. She wasn’t any good at these kinds of things. Aelin resolved to showing him then.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as she shifted on his lap, tilting his head back so she could lean over him. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, then Aelin pressed her lips to his. Rowan didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss, slow and deep.

Her mother used to always say Aelin was born with wildfire in her heart. Burning bright and wild, yielding to nothing and no one. Always one to unapologetically blaze her own trail. And oh, how far Aelin has fallen from that little girl once with wildfire. Her heart has been cold and shrouded in darkness for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

Until now. As Rowan breathed flame back into her and it crackled through her blood with every touch and brush of lips. This single kiss fractured her very foundation and reforged her anew.

A prolonged moan fell from her lips as Rowan’s hands ran down her body then back up her bare thighs, smoothing around to knead and cup her ass. Using the leverage, he ground her thinly cladded core against his straining arousal and devoured the little gasps and whimpers coaxed from her.

Aelin broke away and pressed open mouthed kisses along his strong jawline as deft fingers worked the front buttons of his dress shirt, only pausing for him to yank hers overhead. The second it was off, her mouth and hands were back on him—touching, licking, tasting.

Her bra was next to go and Rowan soaked in the sight with pupils blown wide. He almost looked crazed with want, and hell—maybe he was. She surely was.

The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smirk before tangling her fingers into his hair and guiding him back to her in a messy kiss. Rowan licked into her mouth and greedily swallowed her moan when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her underwear. And he was so good.

All coherent thoughts fell away. Leaving her with just the feel of him beneath her—of them, moving together.

“Rowan,” she panted, hips rolling against his very skilled fingers.

Small hands flitted over broad shoulders, across the expanse of firm chest, over thick biceps, into silvery tendrils—unable to decide where to land. Entirely overwhelmed with an incessant need for him—for more.

Finally her hands landed on his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. Shimmying them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, jutting proud and head glistening with his desire. The urge to wrap her mouth around him pulsed through her. But first—

Aelin rose on her knees to align herself above him. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly and gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down.

“Aelin… like this?”

His eyes darted over their still half-clothed bodies then back up to her face as if he were asking, Here? She was sure he had a perfectly fine bed somewhere but Aelin swore she was going to die from scorching need if she didn’t have him in the next five seconds.

She didn’t need romantic gestures and soft mattresses. Just to be filled with him, consumed by him.

Aelin nodded emphatically. “Please.” Desperation to feel something—to connect—threatened to swallow her whole.

A look passed through the green depths of his eyes and she knew he understood. Rowan pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell me how you need it.”

“Hard.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes as he smirked up at her and her stomach flipped. “As you wish.”

Rowan’s mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss—demanding, claiming. His thumb hooked and pulled aside the dainty lace that still covered her core, and guided her down onto his cock.

A throaty whimper fell from her. The way he stretched her open fell just on the side of painful, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Fuuuck, Aelin,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

Before she could fully adjust to his size, Rowan snapped his hips and set into a punishing pace. And she was glad for it—eager to be ruined by him.

Aelin’s head fell back with a cry.

All she could do was hold on, nails digging into beautiful bronze tattooed skin, and lose herself to the burn building within her. Nothing else mattered outside this moment, outside of them and the way he made the flames flicker and dance in her soul.

Rowan wound long gold tresses around a hand and tugged to draw her head back, keeping the hold on her hair taught. Aelin moaned and arched just as he nipped at the exposed skin before licking up the length of her throat.

“Rowan, please,” she begged. Desperate for a release that dangled just out of reach.

Rowan latched on to her pulse point and pressed a thumb to her clit, the added sensations just what she needed to be sent hurtling over the edge with his name singed on her lips.

His breaths turned jagged while he shook with restraint. “Again,” he ground out. Molten pleasure sparked through her core in response to the command.

Aelin rolled her hips into his, milking the drag of his swollen cock along her oversensitive inner walls. All the while his ministrations didn’t falter, thumb still pressing tight circles against her clit. The the pleasure sharp and bordering too much.

Her nails dug deeper into his heated skin, she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood and—

O-oH, gods!

Rowan grunted as her body began contracting around him again, and a prolonged moan fell from her lips as she drowned once more in a blanketed wave of pleasure. He thrusted one final time before spilling deep into her and joining her in bliss.

Golden waves tumbled down her back as Rowan finally released his hold. He sagged against the sofa cushions, bringing Aelin with him, both of them panting and boneless.

Minutes ticked past, maybe hours. It didn’t really matter as she’d lost all concept of time. Only aware of the warm drag of his fingers up and down her back; of the soft brush of his lips against her temple.

Rowan shifted beneath her, slipping out, then effortlessly hauled them both up from the sofa. Aelin’s legs wrapped around him as he carried her deeper into the apartment.

A mattress gave way at her back as Rowan gently lowered her to the bed. He looked her over for a moment with shining eyes and a soft smile before wordlessly removing her remaining garments, leaving her fully bare before him.

With eyes glued to her lithe body sprawled out across his bed, Rowan groaned in appreciation while discarding the rest of his own clothes.

Aelin sucked in a breath.

He was glorious standing there in the nude—all corded muscle, bronze skin, and tattoos.

Heat reignited in her core.

Rowan eased onto the bed and crawled slowly up her body, kissing and nipping along the way. Aelin stretched beneath him and arched into his touch. His hand ran up along her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast.

“Gods, Aelin, you’re beautiful.” His reverence washed over her with gentle warmth.

She smiled lazily. “I know.”

Rowan snorted, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face. “There you are,” he murmured.

Yes, there she was. With the whisper of a flame finally flickering back to life in her heart.

The smile remained until Rowan leaned down to capture her awaiting lips once more.

Masterlist

#aelinweek #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin smut #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #rowan x aelin

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pluviacuratio · 7 months

Text

@cosmicdreamt || ♡

{ ♪ } -- "Neff, you don't understand. This is a travesty! A tragedy worthy of the Greek poets! I have two day passes for a really nice spa and salon, but I've got no one to go with!"

She's fibbing. She bought these passes specifically to use with Neff.

#cosmicdreamt #► sometimes i need a little sunshine (modern)#friend tag tba

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darlingpwease · 8 months

Note

Oh hello I'm kind of new to this but I was reading most of your post I see you have been busy with your draft and I don't want to put some work on the request list but here I go saw you can write about some characters from dark fall I wonder can request

Yandere Nergal if you comfortable with it

hello hello~ <3 don't worry about things like that, sunshine; it just means I'm slower to react because I'm writing~ it doesn't increase my workload or anything like that,,,

too late; I love you more than

through the pain you feel my feelings [2000 words]

♡ unhealthy behaviour (forced relationship), mention of violence, power imbalance; transmigrator!reader, reader with hypersensitive skin

This body (or this world?) did not accept you, but you yourself weren't sure what exactly was wrong. After all, even appearance hadn't changed so significantly that you could claim it was a 'completely alien body'; more like some alternate version of you — but the skin felt wrong, not as it should, too sensitive and responsive to everything, doesn't matter if it was the wind that was blowing somehow wrong, or a hidden blade that you could dodge by acting even on pure instincts. Undoubtedly, this contributed to the improvement of your skills and reactions, as if the slightest movement around always found a physical response in you, making you feel like some kind of herbal or wind spirit.

... But every look, every touch — your whole being was so tense, like a stretched fabric about to tear, from which any attempt to touch was perceived as a cut or a blow. You knew for sure that it wasn't the skin itself, physically it received and reacted to wounds like any other, without being too gentle, but you were always where this line between mental and physical reaction passed. Perhaps it was even something psychological — you can't say for sure, not that you remember anything at all from your life that is connected with the past, even if you are clearly aware when this or that reaction is caused by muscle memory. Your body remembers what your mind is not able to reproduce — but without mind, you would not be able to take care of this uncomfortable body, like a worn-out cell that tries to keep your 'soul' inside, although it costs too much.

Was this a kind of punishment for the fact that you occupied a body in which you were not actually born? You didn't know — not when you were too focused on fighting for survival in this world, more like a burnt-out wasteland after some devastating war. Disgusting in its grotesqueness social darwinism — 'who managed, they ate', even if this is the body of someone who was a little less lucky to be where it was not worth being, and these are not only monsters, but also lands that absorb blood with meat, trying to satiate themselves in aimless greed, — as deep as the pupils of a person who holds out his hand to you in a dark glove, smiling senselessly, as if you have not survived this nightmare for a couple of years, forced to adapt from the life of a modern person to one of the links in the food chain, where you are far from the top.

Even if it was the hand of the blackest and most vile creature, you would accept it.

And even after a while, you can't say that you regret your choice. You have everything you need to not worry about that body: comfortable clothes, the necessary treatment, and your mana is more than normally restored — even if sometimes you are drawn to things like food or the Internet, especially when you see the dull dying earth from the balcony, you try to remind yourself that everything is fine. Everything is fine now. You still have to work and work hard, but at least you don't have to think about where you should spend the night, where to hide and where to expect enemies, constantly turning in your head the memories of a past life in an attempt to use the current one to survive.

... In the end, it is these features that NERGAL keeps you close — at least, you hope that only for these.

Maybe in a previous life you would have accepted him as 'your type', but in the current one? Getting involved with any of... these ones has consequences much more serious than just a 'broken heart', and you can't say whether you will have a next life — and whether your next body will not be even worse.

(NERGAL had never been in the habit of asking when he wanted something, however.)

NERGAL knows 'what's wrong with you' and this is used more as an excuse to pull you even closer, as if the fact that the place next to him is the most profitable among many others is not enough — after all, the safest place when the typhoon is inside, and you tell yourself the same thing, even when the how carefully he treat you becomes disturbing and slightly unnerving. NERGAL does not hide the fact that he cares about you or that he is responsible for things that are more convenient for you — even if does not always say it out loud, you know for sure that because of him the servants treat you differently, with more caution, like fragile porcelain.

The King of Dark Fall is not at all the type who pays attention to the physical characteristics of others at all and does not know how to recognize them, — he does not need it, after all, — so you do not even try to flatter yourself with thoughts that 'this is how he highlights his special subordination', not when NERGAL politely asks if you like this 'more light clothing' or 'soft fabric'. And it is precisely how different your positions are that makes you overlook everything — do you want to go back? Do you want to fight every minute for your life again and sleep with one eye open? Didn't you have enough?

There is no need to shout "wolves" while they are just looming at the edge of the forest — otherwise, when they cling to your neck, no one will come running to the screams.

(of course, you are not deluded that anyone will be affected by your requests for help — social darwinism is soaked into the blood, which dictates that 'own skin is more important' than someone else's problems, and you can only go along with the current, trying to draw boundaries between yourself and him, even if he is the type who is used to pushing these very boundaries.)

NERGAL is not trying to overstep the boundaries — this is not in his spirit; even if he tends to force you to do things that you initially don't want, over time you get used to it — largely due to the fact that his leadership is closer to "look at me and do as I do" than to trying to explain something, and this soon begins to involuntarily relax you, since NERGAL is not too emotional, restrained and respectful, especially in relation to your personal space and desire / unwillingness to physically approach, not allowing you to fly away or think that you are ready to give up your current comfort to avoid creepy behavior, because NERGAL is not creepy.

Yes, even when he is responsible for the full degree of comfort with which you live, knows your preferences perfectly well, takes a more dominant position and you feel that you are becoming too dependent on better conditions that are directly controlled by him — he is not the type that clearly feels more creepy, especially compared to everything that you saw before you were accepted into the service of the King of Dark Fall.

His control appears gradually and prudently, but even so, you hardly notice — the society of this world is so far from yours that you have no idea when something is 'strange' or 'normal', and this only worsens everything around when NERGAL, encouraging your ambitions if there are any, at the same time, clearly restricts you as soon as signs appear that you can sail away from his control or custody. By the time you realize that everything looks too strange, — even if no one dares to point it out, — any attempts to swim out will first lead to a decrease in comfort, then— to a more than direct threat that you will experience serious consequences if you think that the smartest in the room.

NERGAL is not the one who hides his attitude — he has a goal and he goes to it; perhaps, while he is still Leon's assistant, you can somehow hide from him by running off to some tasks in the battlefields against monsters or locking yourself in a room, since he does not have such the authority to force you directly, but when does he become the head? Escape attempt is excluded — no matter where; if his credit of trust in you is exhausted, you will eventually be locked up, and you will have nowhere to go, because it is even less likely that you are stronger than NERGAL, and given that he now has power, no one can give you even an illusory protection from him. He is straightforward in this, even if at first moves gently and gradually, as if reveling in the fact that you have nowhere to run and no one to go to.

You won't be surprised if it turns out that he's just enjoying how defenseless you are now, even if you're not as weak as Leon is now; and perhaps, perhaps, he is too happy to devote more time to you than is worth in current position, changing schedule just to be with you.

He is sticky — even if at first NERGAL clearly refrains from touching or hugging, experimenting and trying different ways to get closer and touch you. Not only literally, but also metaphorically: he always knows where you are and what you are doing, especially if he has suspicions that you may be trying to get out of the castle or room — and often he regrets that he cannot deprive you of your strength, just as Leon lost his strength, in order to reduce his own anxiety about your movement and make you more dependent on him.

However, your "touchiness" is more fun entertainment for him than something that causes irritation — NERGAL is interested in your emotional and physical reactions, and seeing how you react to various stimulations and interactions is closer to the kind of foreplay that he can afford if he sees that you are not comfortable enough for more actions. He pushes the boundaries, but does not try to bend them — even with a more... ambiguous morality in society, he is not so desperate or needy to scare you away, at least outwardly.

He is more than busy, and although it may sometimes seem to you that you are in the palm of his hand, along with your actions and thoughts, NERGAL always lets you unobtrusively realize this — his right to claim everything he considers himself worthy, including the persons he considers his own, is not a 'painful place', that you could somehow manipulate or influence, and attempts to break out of this not-too-honey web will not be successful, no matter what you do.

NERGAL is more than transparent about what he expects from you — there are no emotional manipulations or attempts to muddle your brains, at least not for a long time; in the end, sooner or later, you will move on to a conversation in the style of "why should I stay here with you" and willingness to discuss this. Undoubtedly, you will be given the choice to 'leave' — only if he is sure that you will invariably return. The body that you have made your weapon for survival is more than sensitive to any change in comfort, and even whether this comfort is emotional and physical does not really matter — after all, NERGAL is emotionally stable and calm, despite his strange behavior, like most servants, but how will you are live normally in an environment where you will lose everything that have achieved for years?

He does not persuade when it comes to the decision to stay in the castle with him. It's not like him. You are either "yes" or "no" — and if you are "no", but one day you will invariably become "yes". Nergal has long arms — while you don't have a wide range of choices.

No one will want to mess with him. Even you.

#❖.my jewelry #🥮 — dark fall #✉.nergal #🧸.yandere au #🧸.power imbalance #cw dark content #gender neutral reader

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lovestay-channie · 4 months

Text

Written in the Stars ☆ Chapter 5

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem reader

Genre: SMAU, Stray Kids x Modern Hogwarts, Hufflepuff x Slytherin, (minor/one sided) Enemies to Lovers, Reverse Grumpy Sunshine

Warnings: mentions death, several battles, a few swear words here and there

Synopsis: It is modern time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One Hufflepuff who suppresses her emotions while one Slytherin who breaks the stereotype of the Slytherin Prince. Will they connect? Or will they continue to clash?

Word Count: 860

Screenshots: 11

Taglist: OPEN

“Welcome,” you say to Chris who is running into the library.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late!” he says panting.

You shrug while opening your notebook to a blank page. Chris pulls out a chair across from you to sit down. It’s been weird being civil with one another. You aren’t used to being this kind to him. You knew that you have been unfair towards him, but you can’t help but feel like there is something up his sleeve. Maybe it’s your brain trying to protect you. Maybe it’s you being mean. Sometimes you couldn’t tell. You wonder if things could turn around for the better between the two of you.

“Alright,” Chris sighs, interrupting your thoughts. “We left off on trying to see if adding flavoring could help with the bitter taste.”

“Right! I was talking to Professor Villium after potions the other day to see about how to do that, and she mentions that it can be tricky. She talked about putting natural flavoring like lemon, orange, rose, lavender, etc.,” you explain.

Chris jots down what you said to remember for later. While working on the potion, you notice Chris’ mannerisms. It’s been a long time since you guys have been together one on one. You forgot how he would hum a random tune when flipping through pages; or how he would straighten his posture when writing down notes; or how he adjusts his tie loser after a certain amount of time. The little things you used to notice were forgotten, and you are trying to remember everything you lost.

After a few hours, your head was starting to hurt from trying to search where to find certain ingredients you would need for the potion. “Are you okay?” Chris asks.

You looked up from your book. His eyes were filled with concern. How did he know you were starting to feel achy? “Oh, um, yeah. I’m okay.”

“You sure?

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been sighing every 2 minutes for the past 15 minutes.”

“Sorry.” You didn’t notice you were continuously sighing. “I might have to call it quits soon. I think I’m starting to develop a headache.”

Suddenly, Chris reaches his school bag. He takes out a brown, paper bag and pushes it towards your direction. You look at the bag suspiciously. “Just take the bag, Y/N.”

You slowly grab the mystery item in front of you and open it. It had a soft roll and two pills. “What’s this?” you question.

“I know that your head hurts after some time of studying. It’s why you don’t study for a long period of time. So, I thought I would get you a roll and some medicine because you shouldn’t take medicine on an empty stomach,” he explains.

“Did my brother tell you that?” you scoff, taking the roll and pills out of the bag.

Chris fidgets in his seat, “Uh, y-yeah. He’s just a worried brother, you know.”

You nod your head in agreement. You quickly finish the roll and swallow the pills so you can continue studying. However, your mind started to wander to the tournament tomorrow. Deep down, you know it’s wrong to bring it back. It stopped for a reason; it’s too risky. You have been trying to see the joy in a tournament, but you wish it could have been a different Quidditch teams coming to compete with students. Anything other than the Triwizard Tournament would be better.

“Hey, Chris?” you softly call out.

His eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”

You put your quill into its ink bottle and rest your hands on your lap. “I am truly sorry for what I said yesterday. It was out of hand. I know you are really excited to compete in the tournament. I don’t like the idea of anyone getting hurt for fun. It’s not fair. I just…” You look down at your hands, too embarrassed to keep looking into his deep brown eyes.

Chris put his quill in his ink bottle as well and rested his arms on the table. “Look, Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize anymore. I’ve been quite rude to you as well, and I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you.”

“You have every right to. I’ve been so mean to you these past few years, and I want to apologize for that as well. Lee Know, Marina, and Annaliese have been talking to me about how I need to take a chill pill, and they are right. I guess what I’m trying to say is…” you pause. The words on the tip of your tongue seem foreign yet familiar to you at the same time.

“Trying to say what?” Chris asks softly, egging you to finish your sentence.

You finally look up to meet his eyes once more. “I want us to be friends again.”

His eyes widen at your sudden statement. He couldn’t believe his ears. He could feel the tip of his ears turning red. He reaches up to one of them to hide them. A smile creeps onto his face. It’s like he was 14 again.

“I would love to be your friend again as well.”

taglist: @minhosimthings @jiisungllvr @charmer-c @blackhairandbangs @foxinnie8 @sunshinessky @lixie-phoria @asherthehimbo @haewonluvr (if you would like to be tagged, let me know!)

#lovestaychannie #stray kids #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan imagine #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #smau #kpop smau #stray kids smau #stray kids x hogwarts #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 8 months

Note

Writing request thing: Bucky + "friends kiss each other all the time, righr?"

OMG @bolontiku, this prompt grabbed me so hard, and I had so many different scenarios immediately pop into my head. This little shorty was the favourite way I saw this playing out. __________

It was obvious to everyone, except for maybe him, that you were smitten with Bucky Barnes. It didn’t help that he was weirdly affectionate with everyone on the team. With Steve, you got it. They’d been best friends for close to a hundred years. The lack of personal space between them made sense. It did with Natasha too, after all, they had some Red Room history that neither of them spoke about, but somehow had trauma-bonded them. With the rest of you, there were easy touches, affectionate shoulder bumps and sometimes, and this was where it was weird, kisses. Usually just on the forehead. But it seemed strange to you that this formerly-brainwashed murder machine had turned into the unofficial goddamn sunshine officer.

You were flopped on the couch watching the news, feet propped up on an ottoman when he popped over the back of it and flopped down beside you, slung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to kiss you on the cheek.

“How was your day, doll?” The low rumble of his voice hit you right in the sweet spot and you thought you might need to bit your tongue lest you moan and lean further into him.

“The usual. Nat beat the crap out of me on the mats, Clint killed me at the range, and I thought Steve was actively trying to kill me when we went on our run. Then I cleaned the table at poker this afternoon, and reminded them it’s my big brain that makes me so important,” you laughed.

“You even beat Tony?”

“I’m thirty-five thousand to the better because he’s too cocky. Might not be a big bet to him, but that’s going to my favourite charity,” you laughed.

“You didn’t consider going on a vacation?” He asked.

“Nah. Don’t have anyone to go with,” you shrugged. He squeezed you close.

“I’d go with you,” he offered.

“Yeah, but I want to go on a romantic vacation, with a view of a perfect turquoise beach, where it’s just as easy to lay in bed all day than head to the swim-up bar, and clothing in the room is optional,” you laughed, leaning into him. Bucky leaned away from you and smiled.

“Sounds good. I’m in,” he said, his voice just a shade lower, just a touch rumbly-er. A whole lot sexier.

“Oh but -”

“Sweetheart, I know dating is a lot different now than it was during the ‘30s, but I’m ready to take our relationship to the next step. I’d like to make us a steady thing. This sounds like the perfect opportunity,” he said.

“Oh.” You couldn’t find other words. You blinked and looked at him, and tilted your head, confusion washing over you. “Oh?” It was Bucky’s turn to look confused.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been dating for months now?” He asked.

“We have?” You asked.

“We have a standing Friday date night, we go to the pictures together every Monday. And Taco Tuesday?” He replied.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You’d been dating your dream man for months and hadn’t noticed? He started laughing and pulled you in to kiss your forehead again.

“I don’t kiss anyone else. Do you?”

“But,” you paused, gaping. “But friends kiss each other all the time, don’t they?”

Bucky let out a loud bark of laughter. “I know I was out of it for a long time, but even I know that friends don’t kiss all the time. Maybe I moved slower than a modern girl like yourself likes,” he chuckled, leaning close enough that you could smell his mint toothpaste. “Maybe I should have done this sooner.” He closed the gap between you and pressed his lips against yours.

__________

@rampant-salamander

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ilarianae · 1 year

Text

— 10 Reasons to Share a Bed with Hoseok

pairing. hoseok x reader (modern au)

wc. 3,700

note. back from vacation! divided a list of 50 prompts; the final 10 reasons will be for seokjin, so stay tuned for that! as always, thank you for reading, and the writing below is inspired by the list of prompts provided from the tumblr @promptful. check their blog out, fellow writers!

cw. — just a mix between angsty and fluffy.

Because you both made a mistake.

His breath was hot against your shoulder. Bare flesh with bare flesh, and the mix of sweat and intimate satisfaction. It was enough to make your heart jump and crack simultaneously: the realization that you and Hoseok did it again. You had sex when you shouldn’t have.

Hoseok was quiet as he rolled away from you on the bed. He sat up, having the shame of at least hiding his nakedness with your sheets, refusing to look at you. He seemed distraught, and you knew the feeling.

“We need to stop doing this, Hobi.” You softly spoke, grabbing your discarded shirt from the floor.

“I know… I know.” He hid his face in his hands, muttering a swear.

“This is the last time.” You declared, knowing well in your heart that it won’t be.

Hoseok knew it too, facing you with an unbelievable look.

The two of you were cursed, forever haunted by what wasn’t but what could’ve been of your past relationship. Every time you tried pulling away or Hoseok did by meeting someone new or different, you’d always end up back at the starting line, back in your bed, naked, full of bite marks, and disappointed. Sometimes, you wondered what would’ve happened if you simply returned together. Yet, the thought of the toxicity and arguments made you hold your tongue.

Hoseok frowned, and you braced yourself for the start of your usual dispute— the same one that occurred every time you two returned to your senses. But his look fell, and he pulled you into his bare chest. With a gentle grasp around your chin, your lips met in a soft, chaste kiss.

Hoseok sighed sadly. “Knowing us, it won’t be.”

You nodded.

It would be you and him and this, now and forever.

Because this is the first time you’d ever seen him cry.

He was initially quiet when he first received the news on your couch.

Hoseok didn’t say a word, but his silence spoke volumes, and you understood what had occurred. Someone passed away. You could hear his mother’s panicked gasps through the phone, yet the boy you loved remained quiet and still. He only flinched when you touched his shoulder, taking the phone from him.

“I’ll take care of him, Mrs. Jung.” You spoke to the phone, watching Hoseok with careful eyes. “Yes, I’ll send him over as soon as possible.”

Ending the call for him, you rose to quickly pack his things. Hoseok was known for staying over at your place, his little impromptu sleepovers, so it wasn’t surprising to you to see all of his items in your apartment. You stuffed his extra clothes in his bag, moving to your entryway to grab his shoes so he could get ready to leave.

“Hobi,” you started with a gentle voice, “come on, you need to get ready.”

“…No.”

“Hm?” Turning around, the sight that greeted you made the backpack in your hands drop.

Wetness surrounded his eyes, and he shook, holding his body with his arms as if he was afraid of falling into pieces the moment he’d let go. Hoseok’s face was crumbled entirely, but he couldn’t look at you or show you how badly he felt.

He whispered your name softly. “I don’t want to go home, not like this.”

“Hobi—”

“Please.”

You neared closer to his seated position on the couch, hugging his shoulders tightly as he hid his face in your stomach. This was the first time you’d ever seen him cry; Hoseok was always the happier of the two, bringing sunshine to any damp situation. The wet evidence of tears on your shirt broke your heart, and as much as you loved his mother, you knew you couldn’t let Hoseok leave.

At least, not tonight.

“Come on,” you pulled him up, raising your hands to wipe away his tears. “You’re not going home.”

“I—”

“Don’t worry, I understand.”

Turning off the tv and discarding the movie the two of you were watching, you led Hoseok to your bedroom, allowing him to sleep with you tonight. He instantly melted against you, keeping his face hidden against your neck. You softly began to play with the little hairs at the base of his nape, and sometimes, he’d shiver from your featherlike touch.

“Thank you,” Hoseok murmured.

“Always.” You wouldn’t dare let him mourn by himself, not Hoseok.

Because he’s the savior to your sleep issues.

Namjoon let you in without hesitation, immediately understanding the drained look in your eyes.

“Another rough night?” he said as you nodded in thanks and entered the apartment. “You should really see a sleep doctor or something for this….”

“Please, Joon. Let’s save the lecture for tomorrow morning.” You shrugged off your coat. “Where is he?”

“Where do you think?” Namjoon nodded towards Hoseok’s bedroom. “He’s already asleep, but knowing him and knowing you, I don’t think he’d mind your company.”

“Thank you, honestly.” You gave him a tired smile.

“Goodnight.” He patted your shoulder as you passed by him and set towards Hoseok’s room.

Hoseok had always been the one to help you with your irregular sleeping patterns. He was never judging or misunderstanding, always keeping his door open for the nights you suffered immensely. And those nights were many; it was almost a nasty habit at this point. You felt somewhat guilty about the ordeal, knowing that Hoseok barely had girls over because of you or would’ve at least slept more peacefully with his bed to himself. But every time you brought up the topic due to your concern, Hoseok would shoo your worries away.

“I heard you come in,” he mumbled as you entered the dark room.

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be. I’d do the same if I was in your shoes.”

You heard shuffling and knew he raised part of his comforter to allow you in. Darkness surrounded you as you stepped up to his bed, knowing his bedroom layout by memory. You quickly entered under the sheets and were wrapped in everything that smelled like Hoseok, like your protector and favorite comrade of the night. He pulled you close with an arm around your waist, his muscular body almost resting on top of you, and you let out a soft sigh.

Hoseok kissed the side of your head gently and spoke so quietly you thought you imagined his words: “I’m glad you came. I’ve gotten so used to sleeping with you, now I can’t without.”

Because everyone else left you.

The fighting match was over, and you lost. You frowned as your friends rolled their eyes at you and left your home, the last one making sure to slam your front door harshly enough to prove their fury. A portrait of you and your cherished pet fell from the wall, the side of the frame denting from the impact against the floor. You didn’t hesitate to pick it back up and put it in its original place, your fingertips caressing the ruined side with the calmness and gentleness you didn’t have during the argument.

Then, you turned to face the remaining person in the room. “I think you should go.”

Hoseok didn’t waver. “Why?”

You glared at him, at his stupid question. “You heard them, what they said. I don’t want to have company over anymore, so just head out.”

Hoseok shook his head, refusing to leave you with your negative thoughts. “They were just angry….” He stood from his position at your dining table, towering over you with a look of care and sincerity that almost made you want to cry. “Things were said that weren’t meant. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him anymore, turning away to hide your wavering lips and the familiar sensation of tears tickling your lashes. “Oh, they meant it. I want you to go too. You’ll be better off without me, so they can at least remain friends with you.”

“No,” he placed his hands on your cheeks, raising your head to meet his eyes, “I could give less of a shit about what others think. You were always the one I cared about the most.”

His following kiss to your lips was longing and full of desire. Hoseok caressed your jaw softly, moving his hands down to rest his thumbs on the pulse points on your neck. His kisses made you swoon as he directed you back toward your bedroom. He didn’t care about your friend group; he chose you over them in a heartbeat. You pulled away for a moment, feeling your bed touch the back of your knees. Recognizing your surroundings as your room, you marveled at how dizzy Hoseok made you with just a few kisses.

“So, you’re not going to leave me?” Your question sounded shy and worried, as if he was about to sneer, and this could’ve been a cruel joke.

Hoseok let out a small chuckle. His hands on your shoulders pushed you down onto the bed. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

You both landed on your sheets.

Because he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you like he can.

“He already left.” Hoseok’s emotionless voice greeted you from behind.

Turning around with unfocused eyes and crinkled brows, you whispered a soft “what?”

Your boyfriend was not the type of guy to leave you behind like that; you wanted to argue. But your drunken, hazy mind thought otherwise. Drunk body, true thoughts had never felt more accurate. If he wasn’t the type to abandon his girlfriend at random parties, your current boyfriend would stick around and whine— a manipulative tactic to convince you to have sex whenever you were dangerously tipsy. Hoseok knew this; hell, you knew this, even if you continued to deny it.

“Why would he do that…?” You let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your head uncomfortably.

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” Hoseok didn’t miss a beat, crossing his arms in displeasure. “Abandoning his girlfriend at a party and place like this… says a lot about the boys you choose.”

You glared, your drunken stupor making you bold. “Well, I chose you once, didn’t I?”

His face fell, only for a split second. “Yeah… You did.”

The two of you stood uncomfortably in the kitchen, surrounded by others focused on having fun rather than your little spat. The lack of space brought you close to each other, and if you wanted to, you could run your fingers down his clothed chest like you used to when you were his. When he was yours.

You almost did, catching yourself and dropping your hand before coming into contact with his person. Hoseok didn’t let you though, grabbing you with his own, pulling you close.

“What… are you doing?”

“I’m not going to leave you at this shitty party because you can’t seem to choose a good guy.” His response was swift and slightly damaging. “Come on, you’ll just sleep over at mine tonight.”

“Why with you, though?” You allowed yourself to be directed out the front door and into his car with a short huff. It almost felt like home, being with Hoseok, bickering, being his passenger princess. “I’m sure Jin or Namjoon can help take me home too.”

“Because no one can take care of you like I can.”

“But you only have one bed in your apartment, so… you’ll take the couch?”

“Hell no, we’re sharing.”

Because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Legs intertwined. His hands around your waist. His face buried in that delicate space between your neck and shoulder. There was nowhere else Hoseok would rather be.

Pulling his face back to lightly rest on your shoulder, he watched as soft puffs of air left your open lips. He could feel your slow heartbeat, how soothing and lulling it was to him. His fingers played with the frayed endings of your sleep shirt, sometimes wanting to touch skin and slipping under to caress your hips and stomach. He liked how it made you shiver, how goosebumps rose on your skin due to his ghost-like caresses.

Hoseok scooted closer, placing his lips firmly against your neck. He quickly glanced to see if he woke you up and smirked when realizing you were still sound asleep. Choosing a perfect spot for his love mark, Hoseok gave your neck a swift kiss before wrapping his lips around your skin and sucking. Once he pulled away, a soft pinkish-red formed around the spot he targeted, making the vexatious boy smile brightly.

“Perfect,” he whispered, about to add more, but you pushed him away.

“Hoseok, stop…” You chided sleepily, sighing in annoyance as he chuckled mischievously and kissed up your neck, away from the newly-forming hickey he made.

“I’m doing nothing wrong, babe. Just proving to myself this isn’t a dream.” Another kiss to your lips. “Proving to myself you’re finally mine.”

Because you fell asleep on his shoulder, and he carried you to bed.

Your week drained you immensely; that much was true.

Hoseok smiled awkwardly as Jin and Namjoon sent him questioning stares, having noticed your soft snores during movie night. “Should I wake her up?” He whispered to them after making eye contact for the third time.

“How in the hell does someone fall asleep during a horror movie?” Jin marveled, raising his finger to poke your cheek.

“Don’t.” Hoseok glared, smacking Jin’s hand away to protect you from his annoying antics. You remained in your deep sleep, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, and snuggled close to Hoseok’s side. Your head rested on his right shoulder, and if it wasn’t for his phone on the dining table far away, he would’ve already taken a photo of you. “Leave her alone.”

“You should take her upstairs, Hobi,” Namjoon suggested, placing the movie on pause. “So she doesn’t end up with a sore neck when she wakes up.”

“To my room?!” Hoseok whisper-shouted in alarm. The thought of you sleeping in his bed made his heart clench. He wouldn’t know how to handle such a situation. “Wouldn’t that… be weird? I don’t know.”

“What, you’d want her to sleep in our beds?” Jin smirked at Hoseok’s instant frown. ”Didn’t think so.”

“I mean, she fell asleep on you,” Namjoon added with a shrug.

Hoseok glowered at them for a moment, at the truth behind their words. Then, he caved. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Attaboy,” Jin said as he clapped Hoseok on his free shoulder.

He was careful in his movements, holding your upper back with one arm and the underside of your knees with the other. Hoseok allowed you to rest against his chest, ignoring Jin and Namjoon’s interested stares digging into the back of his skull as he took you to his bedroom. He hoped his actions weren’t seen as weird once you woke up— but you were never the type to be untrusting of Hoseok. He was one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember, and falling asleep against him only proved it further.

“There you go,” he whispered as he rested your body against his mattress.

Hoseok fluffed the pillow under your head and brought his blanket to your chin. He thought you looked absolutely perfect, which tugged on his heartstrings. He let out a humored sigh when noticing a strand of hair covering your face and gently pushed it away.

“What are you doing to me?”

Jin and Namjoon can wait. Hoseok laid down beside you, intertwining your fingers with his own.

He was too infatuated; Hoseok wouldn’t dream of leaving you by yourself in his big and empty room.

Because you help with his nightmares.

A cold sweat ran down his back.

Hoseok paid it no mind as he tried his best not to throw up in bed, his heart racing a mile a minute. He could feel himself shake, and the thought of a simple nightmare having this much of an effect on him made him furious. It was always the same dream too: a flash of shadows surrounding him, screams and blood, and… you, unsurprisingly. You were the focus of his daydreams, so why wouldn’t you be the focus of his nightmares?

It made him sick; how dangerous his mind was to his body.

He became lost in his thoughts, shivering silently, trying to calm down well enough to return to sleep and not disturb you. The latter failed, however; Hoseok almost jolted out of bed at a feather-like touch caressing the ends of his damp hair.

“It’s me, it’s me.” You instantly soothed, running your fingers through his hair. “Another nightmare?”

He didn’t trust himself enough to speak, simply scooting closer to you and hiding his face in your shoulder. You were always patient with him, wrapping him closer to you and whispering sweet nothings to calm him down. Sometimes, you spoke about your dreams and what you wished to explore with him. Other times, you simply sat there quietly, letting out soft hums and eased breaths he could follow until his heartbeat returned at a regular pace.

“Do you feel better?” You asked once he pulled away. “What happened?”

“It’s always the same damned nightmare,” he sounded like he could cry. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Shh,” you climbed into his lap, wiping away the sweat from his brow line. “Nothing is unbeatable for you, Hobi. And I’ll always be here to help you out every step of the way.”

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you.”

You left a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll stay up with you until you fall asleep.”

Because he’s scared to lose you.

He couldn’t get close enough.

Hoseok was two centimeters from crawling into the hospital bed you rested upon. He cringed as his eyes raked over the tubes and wires going in and out of your body, slightly grateful for your medical coma so you wouldn’t feel the discomfort of them prickling your skin. Bruises and cuts littered your person. A cast covered your left leg and arm, reminding him of the brutal state he found you (and your car) in when receiving the call. His hand grasped your pale one tightly, almost as if there was a risk of losing you if he let go.

He didn’t like it; he needed to be closer.

Hoseok whispered your name. “Please… wake up.” But you didn’t move, not even a twitch to show him you listened. “Please…”

He dropped his head softly against your chest. The thumps of your heart echoed throughout his ears, and Hoseok breathed a sigh of relief, tears slipping from his eyes and onto your hospital gown.

Hoseok knew he would get scolded by your assigned nurse, but at the moment, he frankly didn’t care. He climbed onto the hospital bed, shrugging off his jacket and shoes, keenly aware of your wires and IV drip.

His hands were gentle, loving, as he wrapped you into his arms and breathed in your scent. You didn’t smell of your signature perfume; you reeked of sterile, disinfectant, and metal— hospital. Knowing this almost made Hoseok cry harder. Instead, he made sure every part of you was protected by him: his hands covered your hands, his chin rested upon your head, and his body spooned you and granted you comfort.

Hoseok leaned down to leave a kiss on your cheeks.

“Whenever you want to wake up, Sleeping Beauty, I’ll be waiting.”

And wait, he did. Your nurse didn’t have the heart to wake him when finding his position in your bed the following day.

Because your room is flooded.

“Oi! I don’t even know you!” Your upstairs neighbor, Hoseok of Apt. D403, snapped in shock.

With a huff, you turned around to face him, having barged into his apartment the instant he opened the door. It was a lovely apartment, clean and tidy, but frankly, you would’ve preferred the comfort of your own. “Hello, delighted to meet you, D403! I’m D303, the victim of the apartment you flooded!” You quipped sarcastically with a dangerous amount of charm.

Hoseok’s face fell in recognition. He gulped. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me. What, you thought I wouldn’t knock on your door?”

He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Listen… About that, I’m sorry. My pipes are finicky if you turn on the high pressure, and my cat—”

“No need for excuses,” you held a hand up, stopping Hoseok in his tracks. It was insanely amusing how your movements kept him on edge, even if you were a whole head shorter than him. “You flooded my bathroom and bedroom. I’m here for compensation.”

He blanched, his angry demeanor shifting to terror at your words. “I don’t— I don’t have any money right now, though. I’m just a college kid. I barely get by as it is!”

“D403, I’m not asking for money to replace my furniture. That’s what home insurance is for, duh.” Your statement took away the tension from his shoulders. “Buuut,” tension returned, “I don’t have a place to live in for a couple of weeks. So, I’m your new roommate.”

“Oka— wait, what?”

“It’s only natural, you fucked up—”

“Technically, it was the cat.”

“—right, right, your cat fucked up, and now you need to compensate me.” You crossed your arms.

Hoseok shook his head, displeased. “There’s only one room in my apartment.”

“Perfect, I’ll take the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch!”

Hoseok allowed you to lean around him to pull your luggage into his apartment. He made a face at your words, coughing twice to gain your attention before raising his arms to demonstrate his living room. “Are you blind, D303?”

You finally took in the room you stood in. It was neat and tidy because it was absolutely empty: no couch in sight, along with no tv, no end tables, no lamps, no rugs, etc. Oh my god, you thought, D403 had nothing. And you were just like him, most of your things downstairs still wholly drenched in water.

An awkward silence filled the empty room.

But you didn’t let it waver you. “Right… then I suppose we’ll share the bed, then.”

Oh, if only you were able to record the look on his face.

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