#song: only the good die young | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muwapsturniolo · 19 days

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✯𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠✯

IN WHICH...Y/N meets a biker who gives her the best night of her life, and manages to turn her world upside down.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!! drinking, public fondling, dom!Matt/asshole!Matt, spanking, choking, knife play, unprotected sex, slight predatorxprey concept, dumbification,, stomach buldging. If I forgot anything please let me know!!!

this is a long one so sorry not sorry <3

“I’m f-r-e-e fuck nigga free!”

My friends and I shout the lyrics to Glorilla's song at the top of our lungs as we fly down the street.

It was one of those nights where you feel like a teenager again, staying out late and sneaking out to go to parties to do lord knows what with your friends.

It was different in my case.

I was grown, 22 to be exact. I didn’t have to sneak out, I could walk out the door and not have to tell anyone where I was going.

“And I’m s- i- n -g- l- e again, outside hanging out the window with my ratchet ass friends!” Buddy stops at a light and I jump out of the car, immediately throwing it back. My girls scream and start recording me, making me act up even more.

We haven’t been out in a long time due to adulting. You know how it is, one of you is free while the other three have other things to do, and then you have to schedule two months out, only for someone else to cancel. it's the rare occurrence where our schedules finally sync up, and we decided to make the most of it, acting out like we have no type of decorum.

“At the red lights twerking on them headlights!”

I hop on the hood of the car and grind down.

“Bitch get in the car!” Buddy shouts while still recording me, her laughter louder than the music.

Suddenly the sound of revving engines makes all of us turn. A group of guys on bikes pull up next to us, clapping and revving their engines in encouragement. One of them takes off their helmet and puts it between his legs, licking his lips before smiling.

“You trynna ride sweetheart?”

I look back at my girls and they are vigorously nodding yes. I climb off the car and skip over to him, “ride what exactly?” He smirks and looks me up and down, “I was talking about my bike, but I could make the other situation happen too.” His answer makes me heat up, although it could be the three shots of Casamigos in my system.

He’s attractive, it wouldn’t hurt to have fun.

Live fast die young, right?

I say nothing as I walk around the bike and swing my leg over, pressing up against him as I wrap my arms around his torso. “You know how to ride?” I ask, taking the helmet from him.

“I’m in the front for a reason.” I can’t see his face but I can hear the smirk. “Bitch where are we going?” Buddy screams from the car. “Trail us! We’re gonna show you girls a good time!” One of the other guys shouts.

It seems like the light follows his words, switching from red to green instantly. The engines rev and soon we are flying down the streets of LA. He pops a wheelie making me scream in excitement and tighten my grip around him. The wind whips past us, the inches on my head flowing behind me.

I look to the side and see Buddy easily following along in her car, music still bumping loudly, filling up the abandoned streets.

It doesn’t take long until he slows down and pulls into a lot. The lot is filled with a bunch of bodies, bikes, and cars. People begin to hoot and holler seeing us pull in.

He parks his bike and climbs off before aiding me in doing the same. “What’s your name pretty girl?” He begins to help me take off the helmet.

“Y/n. You?”

“Matthew, but you can call me Matt.” He lightly squeezes my hip as he looks down at me. He's attractive, nice jawline, a beard, and tattoos going up and down his arm as well as his neck. His piercings fit his features perfectly. I usually wouldn’t go for the punk-looking dudes, it was something about him though.

“Well, thank you for the ride, Matt. You’re a great driver.”

“You’re a great rider, what else can you ride?” He shoots me a look, making me smack my lips and lightly push him. “Boy bye.” He laughs and keeps his grip on me.

“So what is this?” I ask looking around in curiosity. He lets go of me and begins to take his gloves off, “it’s a meet. A bunch of people round up and show off their bikes or cars. We do them every Friday.” I hum and continue to look around. I see my friends by the trunk of our car, sharing our bottle with the new people around us.

“So tell me something, you often get out of cars and shake your ass?”

“You often offer girls a ride?” I shoot back.

“Only the pretty ones.” He winks before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him. “You’re staying with me for the night.” I quirk a brow at his statement.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, problem?” He seems secure in his words, like he’s daring me to tell him there is a problem.

“No”

“That’s what I thought. Let’s get your pretty ass to your friends.” He takes the lead, guiding me to clean white jeep.

“Girl I thought you were going to fall off when he popped that wheelie!” Lani exclaims. “The way I screamed when I saw that shit!” Mika adds. “I really thought your lashes were going to fly off.” Buddy finishes. I giggle at their over-exaggerated statements. Soon a drink is shoved into my hands, “drink up bitch!”

The night ensued, everyone having a good time. I mingled with a few people, attempting to learn about their bikes and cars. Everything honestly went in one ear and out the other. Matt kept me close, my back pressed to his front, both of his hands resting right on my hips. If it was any other guy, I would have been annoyed and pushed them away, but I’m not. My girls keep eyeing me, mouthing a “You ok?” occasionally. I respond back with a smile and a sip of my drink.

"You wanna get out of here?" His breath tickles my ear as he talks to me. I smirk and take another sip of my drink before turning around, "and go where?"

He gives me a look, "somewhere private." I feel his hands travel from my waist down to my ass, gripping the exposed flesh tightly. He softly kisses my neck, biting occasionally. I sigh out in relief, craning my neck as his beard tickles me.

"Come on sweetheart, you know you want to." He whispers in her ear before pulling away and giving her a look. She bites her lip and looks back at her friends before turning back to Matt. "let me tell my friends." He nods and watches as she scampers off towards the group of girls. She's soon skipping back with a wide mischievous smile on her face.

"Let's go."

Matt puts the helmet on her head and helps her onto the bike before climbing on himself. He starts the bike, revving the engine before pulling off.

Matt's going over the speed limit, pushing the gas to the max so he can get the girl behind him in his bed. Y/n holds on to him tightly, only loosening her grip when they arrive at a red light.

She's not sure how long it's going to take for them to arrive at their destination, so she decides to have some fun. She rests her hands on his thighs, rubbing them softly and allowing her nails to draw random shapes. Matt doesn't think anything of it, taking it as her relaxing at the light.

She slowly inches her right hand toward his crotch, palming him through the rough material. She bites her lip and smirks feeling him tense, noticing the way his hands grip the handlebars tightly. She decides to take it a step further and snakes her hand into his pants, wrapping her hand around the base and slowly jerking.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop." His threat is oddly calm, his voice not rising in any way. She takes the threats with a grain of salt, rubbing her thumb over his tip.

"Fuck this-" he mumbles to himself. He releases the brake and speeds off, ignoring the flashing of the red light camera.

Y/n gasps and snatches her hand out of his pants, going back to holding him tightly.

After ten minutes of running multiple red lights and speeding, the two arrive at a house, the garage opening as Matt presses a button on the bike.

The bike inches forward before Matt turns it off and kicks down the stand.

They climb off the bike and Matt aids her in taking off the helmet, dropping it to the floor. He's quick to yank her forward by her throat.

"You think you're funny touching me like that?"

"I think I'm hilarious ac-" A whimper of pain and pleasure tumbles from her mouth as Matt smacks her ass. She looks up at him with wide glossy eyes filled with lust, Matt returns the look, a devious smirk coating his face.

"Take your shorts off."

Just like before his voice held no room for defiance, it was a demand that she had to follow,

So she does just that.

She continues to stare at him as she unfastens her belt, dropping it to the cement floor of the garage. She unbuttons the acid wash denim and shimmies out of them, standing in front of Matt with nothing but a bright blue thong on her bottom half.

He quickly turns her around and bends her over the bike, knocking her legs apart. He runs his ring-clad hand over her ass, enjoying the way the soft skin feels.

He doesn't think twice before spanking her, enjoying the choked moan that falls from her mouth. He enjoys it so much that he does it over,

and over

and over.

25 smacks later, she's sniffling and clenching her legs shut, her wetness causing a tingle in between her folds. Matt stands behind her, admiring the number he did on her ass. The soft brown skin was forming purple and blue bruises, ring indentations clear as day. He allows his eyes to trail to the blue material being swallowed by her ass, noticing the change of color.

He pulls the thong to the side, watching as a thin string of her slick attaches itself to the lace material. He puts his index and middle finger together before gliding them through her folds, moving her slick around. Y/n whines softly, pushing herself back in an attempt to chase his fingers.

"Tsk tsk tsk, so eager." He shakes his head as he clicks his tongue, eyes still trained on her wet cunt. Suddenly Y/n is yanked upward by her hair, her body now flushed with Matts. He turns her head and brings her into a heated kiss, their tongues meshing together.

She hears a 'shink' and chooses to ignore it, thinking it was something in the garage. However, she was proven wrong when she felt something sharp and cold against her collarbone.

She freezes as Matt smirks against her lips, pulling away slowly. She looks down and her heart begins to race seeing the pocket knife. He slowly begins to drag the sharp object downward, ripping her shirt in the process. She gulps watching the fabric fall to the ground, her boobs bouncing as they release.

Her breathing speeds up as he circles her nipple with the knife, pressing it softly against her skin. Goosebumps rise along her body as she sharply inhales.

"You like it, I could see it in your eyes," he whispers as he watches the soft buds harden under the coldness of the knife. He quickly pulls it away and forces her back down onto the bike. He leans over her, one of his hands still wrapped in the blonde hair on her head. She trembles feeling the knife move with the curve of her ass. He chuckles feeling her flinch as he cuts the band of her thong. He catches the material before it falls, and holds it in front of her face.

"Look at that, you ruined them."

Before she could say anything, he shoves the wet material into her mouth. Her face burns in embarrassment as her leftover slick touches her tongue.

He drops to his knees and spreads her cheeks apart, his mouth watering as her lips spread. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and slurping through her folds. Y/n moans as her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the way his soft and warm tongue laps at her juices.

He flattens his tongue and moves it back and forth across her clit, his nose softly pressing against her entrance. "F-fuck Matt!" He pulls away from her, licking at his lips as he pushes two fingers into her.

His fingers stretch her out, providing some form of temporary relief, but it's not enough. "M-more, please I need more!" She begs pathetically.

"My fingers not enough for you sweetheart? You need my dick that bad?" She struggles to speak as he relentlessly pounds his finger into her tight cunt, occasionally curling them.

"No they're enough, you're just a greedy girl aren't you? Well, guess what?-" He adds a third finger into her cunt, not slowing down his handiwork by any means. "You're not getting my dick until you cum on all my fingers. So, I suggest you hurry up if you're that eager."

She whines knowing it's going to take awhile for her to reach any type of orgasm if it's just his fingers.

Matt's not dumb, he knows how to pleasure a woman, so he drops the switchblade and uses his free hand to draw endless figure eights' against her clit.

She throws her head back and lets out a deep moan, her walls squeezing down on his fingers. "That's it sweetheart, come on I know you're close." He moves both of his hands faster making Y/n's legs shake slightly.

His finger hits that special spot inside of her and she lets out a high-pitched moan, her whole body tensing up as she reaches her peak.

She's too busy trying to catch her breath, she doesn't even notice Matt undoing his pants and pulling them down.

Her head suddenly drops as Matt slides into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. He's big, stretching her out perfectly and hitting all the right spots. Matt wastes no time snapping his hips, her body lurching forward with each thrust.

She grips onto the bike, her palms becoming sweaty against the metal. Matt is relishing hearing her wheezes as his cock nudges against that sweet spot, his tip pressing tightly against her cervix in the process.

"Fuck!" she finally manages to shout, her eyes rolling back.

It's almost euphoric the way he's fucking her, almost too euphoric.

She reaches behind and tries to slow him down but it's no use. He grabs her arm and folds it to her back, using it to pull her back and meet his thrusts.

"Already falling apart?" He taunts, a laugh exiting his throat as he continues to thrust.

He watches the way she sucks him in, her walls eagerly clamping down and welcoming him,

like he was made for her

like she was his.

"Whos pussy is this?"

She's so caught up moaning and wheezing around the lace in her mouth, she doesn't hear the question. He slaps her ass making her walls squeeze him even more. He throws his head back, his rhythm breaking as he basks in the feeling.

"Answer the question sweetheart. Who's pussy is this?''

"Ymm-Speak up baby, I can't hear you." He removes her thong from her mouth and snaps his hips harsher than he has before making her squeal, "Yours! Oh fuck it's yours!" She sobs out, not being able to handle her current situation.

"Good girl."

He sneaks his hand down and begins to circle her clit once again.

Her eyes roll back as her whole body begins to shake violently, her second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. "You wanna cum? Hm? You wanna make a mess on me and my bike?"

She moans loudly in response, her body getting weaker from his harsh thrusts and her approaching orgasm.

"Go on, make a mess for me, make a mess all over me."

Her body goes limp as her juices splash all over him and the bike, falling to the concrete floor of the garage.

Matt pulls out of her, pulling her up by her hair. Her legs shake as he drags her over to a free space in the garage. He flips her around and pins her against the wall, the cold concrete aiding in helping the welts on her ass.

he takes a moment to examine her face.

Her makeup was messed up. Her eyeliner and mascara were running and making black tears down her cheeks. Her lashes were beginning to loosen as well, somehow managing to keep some attachment to her lids. Her lipgloss was smudged around her lips as well, some even on her chin.

He presses both his lips and body against hers, gripping her sides harshly. His hands travel to her ass, separating the skin from the wall and hoisting her up, both legs wrapping around his waist.

She throws her arms around his shoulders as he pushes himself into her. She struggles to kiss him back, her moans vibrating against his lips.

His fingers dig into her thighs, leaving crescent-shaped marks on the brown skin. He presses her even harder against the wall and proceeds to position his hips upward, using his as an opportunity to claim her.

He dives in on her neck, working diligently to leave the bruises on her skin. He trails the marks all the way to her collarbone, eventually stopping to admire his work.

His eyes burn bright, his pupils dilated as he watches the marks shine in the dim light, spelling out his name.

His eyes fall onto her breasts that are bouncing with each thrust. He takes one into his mouth, softly biting at her nipple and using his tongue to soothe it. Y/n throws her head back, ignoring the ache that follows when hitting the wall.

"Please! Oh go-shhit!" Matt moans and looks down at their intertwined bodies, watching the way her juices splash on his abdomen.

"That's it baby, let it all go." He coos as her trembling body collapses into him, her grip still tight on his shoulders. She tries to put her legs down but he keeps her locked in place,

"I'm not done with you yet princess."

He opens the garage door and quickly rushes to his room, not struggling one bit as her carries the girl in his arms. He slams his bedroom door and throws her on the bed, her body bouncing on the silk sheets.

He stands over her, watching her body occasionally twitch, her chest rising and falling quickly as she pants in a delirious state. Her cunt glimmers in the light, her wetness pulling him into a trance. He falls to his knees and begins to lap at her cunt once again. She arches her back, going cross-eyed at the overstimulation.

She whines and shakes her head, trying to push his head away. "N-no more." She slurs, her mind hazy from the three orgasms she's had.

He yanks her closer by her thighs, and flattens his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. He circles her clit before sucking on the sensitive bud.

Her manicured fingers find their way to his head, gripping the soft brown locks and yanking. Her mind and body are fighting, her mind telling her to stop him before she passes out, and her body telling her to keep experiencing the rhapsodic moment.

Matt closes his eyes as he breathes in the scent of her juices, lapping at her like a dehydrated dog. He could eat at her for hours, finding her sweeter and more delectable than others. Her moans and withering body fueling his appetite even more. he snakes his other hand down and wraps it around his base, jerking himself off.

He moves back to her clit as he inserts two of his finger, moaning at the way her walls clamp down around them. All it takes is a few pumps and the curling of the digits before she releases over his face.

He swallows everything she gives him, making sure not one drop escapes him.

She manages to weakly push him away, her legs clenching as she heaves.

She didn't think her night would turn out like this.

She knew they were going to have sex, maybe one or two rounds, but she didn't expect four orgasms. She didn't expect him to make her squirt either, she's only ever been able to squirt alone and using a vibrator.

She looks over her knees, watching as Matt rises to his feet, his lips and chin glimmering in her mess. He walks around the bed and that's when the girl notices something.

He's still hard.

He hasn't came once.

That's when it finally hits her, she isn't done until he is.

She doesn't know how much more she can take. She's already had four orgasms, if she has one more she's sure she's going to pass out.

She watches with hazy and glossed eyes as he crawls over her, his eyes zeroed in on her as if she were his prey.

And she was, she was the prey and he was the predator.

he leans closer, his breath fanning over her face.

"You're pretty when you cry."

He rubs his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the mixture of makeup and tears. Suddenly, that same hand is wrapped around her throat. It's not tight, but it's enough to establish dominance.

"You gonna give me one more?" She shakes her head, beginning to cry softly. He shakes his head, shushing her softly, "Nuh uh, none of that baby-" He kisses over her face, his other hand running up and down her side affectionately.

He rests his forehead against hers, his blue eyes dark and predatory.

"You wanna be a good girl for me right? You wanna be a good girl and make me proud?" She whines and looks away from him, not being able to handle his gaze.

"Hey, hey, look at me-there she is, my pretty girl." He smiles seeing her dilated pupils, a clear sign that he did exactly what he planned on doing,

Dumbing her down and making her submit.

"You're gonna be a good girl and ride me, hm?" She nods, not thinking clearly in the slightest. He chuckles and taps her face a bit harder than he should have before he kisses her forehead. He flips them over, his hands finding their way to her waist.

Seeing that her mind is a bit hazy, he aids her in sinking down on him, throwing his head back at the familiar feeling of her walls that he has quickly grown to love.

She begins to rock her hips, throwing her head back and mumbling to herself. "You can do better than that can't you?" Matt taunts as he starts to lift her up and down. She nods absentmindedly and does her best to bounce on his cock, wanting to please him, needing to please him.

Her movements quickly become sloppy and Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He plants both feet on the bed as he wraps his hand around her throat.

She gasps and lets out a choked sob as he begins to thrust upward, her nails digging into his chest. He watches the way her breasts bounce up and down, the way her jaw goes slack, and how her eyes roll back.

He grabs at her breast, twisting and tweaking her nipple.

His thighs become sore so he flips them over once again, missionary.

He throws her legs over his shoulder and re-wraps his hand around her throat. She lets out screams with each deep thrust he gives her, the bed banging against the wall. He notices the small bludge in her stomach and it drives him further.

He removes her legs from his shoulder and pushes them back to her head, his hips ricocheting off the back of her thighs.

Y/n screams go silent, her eyes rolling back and her jaw-dropping as he reaches deeper than he has the whole night.

"There it is, let go for me sweetheart." She lets out a bloodcurdling scream as she reaches her last orgasm of the night, her juices splashing all over Matt and herself. Matt gives 3 more deep thrusts before he stalls inside of her, painting her abused walls a nice shade of milky white.

Y/n lays there a sweaty panting mess, her eyes hallway closed as she remains limp. He looks down as he pulls out of her, the corner of his lips quirking seeing her flinch. he watches as his own seed spills out of her, falling onto the silk bedding beneath them.

He so badly wants to scoop it up and push it back inside her. he already marked her in more ways than one, it wouldn't hurt to mark her in another,

Right?

He's snapped out of his thoughts by his door swinging open, his brother Chris standing in the doorway looking pissed off. "I should beat your ass for keeping me up."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep Chris! We're done now so stop your bitching." Matt rolls his eyes as Chris slams the door. He hears a noise making him look back at Y/n.

She's asleep.

He chuckles knowing he truly pushed her to the limit. He climbs off the bed and rushes to his bathroom, cleaning himself up and slipping on a pair of boxers. He returns with a wet rag and cleans her up, slipping a clean shirt over her body.

He takes the sheets off the bed and throws them in his hamper, deciding to handle it later. He shuts off the lights and climbs into bed, grabbing his phone in the process. He checks his notifications and smirks when he comes across a particular one.

He mutes their conversation and throws his phone on the nightstand, ending the night with a smile on his face.

YUHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I DECIDED TO FEED YALL SUM GOOD CUZ I DONT BE POSTING FICS LIKE THAT SO I HOPE YALL ENJOY!!! LEMME KNOW IF YALL WANT A PART TWO!!!

XOXO PEACHES🍑

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 months

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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.

It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.

A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.

He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...

Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.

If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.

"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"

"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.

"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"

Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?

Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.

"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.

Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.

Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...

"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."

He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.

At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.

Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.

"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.

"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.

"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.

"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."

"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.

"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."

"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.

"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"

He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."

"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."

The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."

"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.

"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."

"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.

"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.

"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.

"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"

Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.

They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.

"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.

"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."

"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.

"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"

The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.

Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.

Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.

That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.

"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?

"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.

Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.

With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.

Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.

That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.

She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"

"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.

How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?

He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...

...

Perhaps... She should stay with Al...

He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...

Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.

In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.

As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.

Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.

"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."

Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.

"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"

Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."

"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."

Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.

What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?

Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.

Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.

Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.

She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.

"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."

She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."

"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."

"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"

"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."

"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."

"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."

"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.

"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.

"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."

"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"

"Of course I do. What's that question?"

With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."

"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"

"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."

"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.

"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.

"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.

"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.

"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."

Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."

"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.

"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"

Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"

"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."

"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."

Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"

"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."

"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.

"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.

𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.

𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾��𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.

Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.

♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husker #hazbin husker #husker x reader #husker imagine #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel husker imagine #charlotte morningstar #hazbin vaggie #Hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine

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chokchokk · 9 months

Text

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?�� Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

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