#they will turn over your private conversations happily

[settlercolonialismisbad]

I’m begging you not to use products owned by Meta to discuss your abortion.

#meta is dangerous #they will turn over your private conversations happily #fuck meta #reproductive rights #abortion #authoritarianism

[hotmencore]

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨” 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Pairing: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader (she/her), Max Fewtrell x reader

Summary: Reader and Lando share a sweet moment on stream, that the fans absolutely crumble over.

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 600+

A/N: I'm not really sure about this one, so let me know what you think!

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this account, @hotmencore

It was currently late on a Saturday night, and you were in the living room of Max's apartment, him and your boyfriend Lando on stream in the next room. You didn't mind at all though, as you and Lando hadn't been back home in the UK for a while, and you two had spent the day with your friends yesterday. You currently held a copy of Before the coffee gets cold in your hands, as you were finally coming to the last few pages of the book. A blanket lay over your legs, the only noise apparent coming from the TV playing at a low volume, and the muffled talking and laughs of Lando and Max from the next room.

You and Lando didn't have a secret relationship, but more of a private one. You came to any grand prix that you could, supporting him as much as possible whilst still working your own job, but didn't feel the need to put your relationship all over the internet. You appeared a lot on Lando's jgp account, which the fans absolutely adored, but that was the majority of which you were seen on social media, your own account being private.

So when it came to twitch streams, you preferred to stay out of the way and leave Lando and Max to it.

You just came to the last line of your book, and placed it at your side, taking a sip of the tea Lando had made you earlier. You put the mug back onto the side table, and tilted your head over the back of the sofa to look almost longingly to the door of which your boyfriend was. You wouldn't admit it, seeing that it has only been about 30 minutes, but you miss his touch. But you knew you didn't really want to be seen on the stream, so decided to leave it and just wait a little.

10 minutes passed, and you had decided that you were just going to have to pluck up the courage to appear on camera if you wanted your boyfriend. You got up from the sofa, put your now empty mug in the sink, and walked to the door, slowly pulling the handle down.

The boys stopped mid conversation to peer over at the door, just as you peeked your head round to see if you were in shot of the camera.

"You okay baby?" Lando asks, a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah I just got bored" you reply with a chuckle, walking into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Come here" He says, also with a chuckle, beckoning you over as he shuffles back in his chair, an arm held out towards you. You walk over to him, putting your hand in his, him softly pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your head naturally falls onto his shoulder, your face away from the stream as you shut your eyes, Lando's arms almost instinctively wrapping around your waist in an instance. Lando looks round at you, kissing your cheek before turning back to the stream. For a few minutes, him and Max carried on chatting, Lando absentmindedly dipping his hand underneath your top to trace random shapes on the bare skin of your lower back.

"Mate the chats going mad over you two" Max says with a chuckle, turning his head to look to Lando.

"What?" Lando laughs, shuffling closer to the chat screen on the chair, you lift your head up to also look.

Pretty much every single chat that popped up was about how adorable they found the interaction between you and Lando, though you struggled to read each one fully as they just kept flooding through. All you both did was laugh, Lando and you looking at each other, giving him the chance to place a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocated.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x yn

[wileys-russo]

put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

lil LW6 fic based on this request put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

"here she is!" you sung out as you launched yourself onto your friends back, alessia stumbling slightly but finding her footing with a laugh. "player of the match! player of the match!" you continued to cheer as alessia hoisted you up properly carrying you round on her back as you did your laps.

"the penalty was perfect less, see i told you they weren't cursed!" you grinned, pulling her into a tight hug as she placed you back down on your feet. "doesn't mean i'll be putting my hand up to take anymore!" the blonde shook her head, though neither of you were unable to keep the smile off her face with a 4-1 win over chelsea.

"i see now why the two of you are so perfect for each other." the taller girl laughed as you both clapped and waved to the fans, nodding toward your girlfriend who was getting a piggyback of her own off manu.

"leah's got an excuse though you're just lazy!" alessia teased, often having you demanding she piggyback you around on national duty and now you played for the same club team.

"you're one to talk! who carries all the bags when we go shopping?" you laughed shoving her, waving at a small group of girls who called out your name. "who buys the most and therefore has the most bags to carry!" the blonde countered bumping her shoulder into yours.

"thats definitely you babe, because its me who carries all the bag when we go shopping!" suddenly your girlfriend appeared, wedging her way in between the two of you with her arms slung over both yours and alessia's shoulders.

"i earn and spend my money the way i want, why all this hate!" you tutted with a playful roll of your eyes, the three of you falling into conversation as you continued on your lap round the emirates.

"heard you've got some competition for your girls hand leah!" kyra zoomed past with a cheeky grin, leah frowning in confusion but unable to ask for any further context as kyra sprinted off chased by vic.

"i didn't know your relationship was open williamson. can i have a crack?" katie was next, playfully kissing your cheek with a wink as now both you and leah looked on in confusion.

your relationship with leah could be described as private but not secret. for years now you'd posted pictures with and of one another, but paid no mind to the spamming of comments asking if you were together.

you lost no sleep to the rumours of what you two were and made no move to placate or deny them, rather just happily existing together and focusing your energy on your relationship rather than what people thought about it or assumed it to be.

however it was most certainly not open.

"what the hell is everyone on about?" leah huffed, annoyance replacing confusion as you squeezed her bicep to try and gain her attention seeing she was becoming upset. "um, i might have an idea." alessia chuckled beside you, clearly trying to cover up her amusement but failing miserably.

nudging the two of you she tried to subtly point something out in the crowd, and it didn't take very long for leah to follow along. "oh you are taking the piss mate." came the scoff and grumble as you tried to catch on, alessia rolling her eyes and moving your head so you finally spotted it.

"ohh." you sighed in realisation, your girlfriends mumblings beside you and closed off body language now making a lot more sense. "do they think thats going to work?" you laughed, which was cleary the wrong thing to say as leah scoffed again and stormed off before you could say another word.

"will you be saying i do then?" you grunted as the tables turned and kyra reappeared, jumping onto your back and wrapping her legs around your waist, vic and teyah not far behind her.

the teasing in question was all due to a large sign reading 'marry me y/n?' held up by a grinning girl who definitely looked too young for you whose eye contact you avoided as you turned away from the sign.

"someone will be sleeping with the dogs tonight!" vic roared with laughter as leah shot you a look over her shoulder and followed into the tunnel after beth.

"i didn't even do anything! this is all of your faults for pointing out that stupid sign and winding her up." you huffed and promptly dropped kyra, who swore after you as teyah helped her up and you hurried off toward where your girlfriend had dissapeared.

though before you could go after her there was a small group of fans calling your name and you diverted, spending a little while alongside laia and alessia signing and chatting things before finally breaking away and heading inside.

returning to the change rooms everyone seemed to be in good spirits and celebrations were in full swing. music was pumping and you couldn't help but laugh at some of your friends and team mates dance moves which were more than questionable.

"having fun wally?" you grinned at the poor swiss woman who was desperately trying to count heads for how many people to include in a dinner booking at one of the teams favorite pubs later tonight, with very little success.

"lee and i will be there." you laughed at her pleading eyes, kissing her cheek and searching the room for the blonde in question. "hey have you seen leah?" you asked beth who finally sat down to take her boots off and stopped singing (yelling) for five seconds at vivs pleading.

"maybe that way somewhere." beth jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the rest of the team as you rolled your eyes. "yeah thanks beffy." you chuckled, quickly changing out of your socks and boots, a twenty minute warning given for the bus leaving you scrambled toward the showers just beating stina into the last free one.

knowing there was a line of inpatient girls waiting their turn who were only growing rowdier now someone had popped a bottle of champagne, you were fast with your shower and the way you changed into clean dry clothes in record time.

you'd think with the way the team was carrying on you'd all won the conti cup again though amusing as the celebrations were a frown was very much present on your face seeing leah was still nowhere to be seen.

you tried calling her as you grabbed your bag and filed out of the change rooms but huffed as it rang out and went to voicemail. "she's probably driving, she drove herself and laura right?" alessia tried to reassure you as your eyes roamed the carpark, leahs car nowhere in sight at all.

"yeah maybe." you mumbled, following the taller girl up and into the bus, loading your bags and settling into your seat. "ah ah no anti social behaviour we're celebrating!" you groaned as beth snatched your headphones from your hands, hanging them around her neck with a wink as jen ruffled your hair and steph smiled apologetically.

much as you did worry about leah a half hour later you couldn't help but laugh and try not to let your overthinking consume your mind too much as karaoke was in full swing and you'd almost arrived back to colney.

"macca please, give our ears a break!" alessia groaned playfully beside you, her head falling to your shoulder as the two of you plugged your ears and the older girl scoffed, making a point to saunter over closer and yell mr brightside even louder, vic belting it out from the other end of the bus.

you continued to check your phone, having still tried to call around to leah and sending her a few messages all of which had gone unanswered. "hey, get out of your head." alessia tapped at your forehead sensing the worried nervous energy pouring out of you.

"why would she be mad at you? you didn't make that sign, you didn't interact with the fan who made it, you didn't encourage anything." the girl rubbed your back comfortingly as she drew you in for a hug and the bus parked up, everyone hurrying off and agreeing to meet for dinner at seven sharp.

"text me yeah?" alessia encouraged as you nodded and sent her a grateful smile before slipping into your car and flicking through your playlists, needing the right sort of music to try and pull yourself from your thoughts as you drove home.

a small sense of relief flooded through you seeing leahs car was indeed in the driveway once you arrived, meaning at least she was home. quickly parking and shutting off your engine you grabbed your bag from the back and headed toward the front door.

though before you could even get a hand on the door it swung open taking you off guard, though the state of your girlfriend caught you even more so by surprise. "why are you-" you started, your girlfriend dressed up in a beige two piece suit with her hair done and light makeup apparent on her features.

"we're going out." leah announced, ushering you inside and grabbing your bag for you. "for dinner with the girls? i didn't think we were meeting until seven and we were just going to the local." you wandered in with a confused frown as leah shook her head.

"no, just you and i. i already called lia and let her know!" your girlfriend answered the question before you could even ask it. "but-" you started cut off by a shake of the blondes head.

"no more questions. our reservations at five and i already laid out something for you to wear. go change please darling!" leahs hands landed on your shoulders, turning and gently pushing you toward your shared bedroom. "you're being very weird williamson." you stated glancing at her over your shoulder as she waved you off and started to unpack your bag for you.

~

"come on babe it's nearly five!" leah groaned, still refusing to answer any of your questions as you finished doing your hair, nodding happily with the final product and grabbing your bag.

"hey thats not the bag i chose or the shoes!" leah huffed with a frown at your changes. "as sweet as it is that you wanted to dress me love, i get final say." you smiled pecking her lips and silencing any further protests.

"isn't it nearly five?" you reminded as she attempted to argue again, the blonde nodding and taking your hand, locking up after you and hurrying to open your door as you slid inside. "such a gentlewoman." you teased, the defender grinning and stealing a kiss before shutting your door and rushing around to her own side.

"will you tell me where we're going now?" you asked as leah pulled out of the driveway with a shake of her head, nodding for you to select some music. "you're an incredibly frustrating individual sometimes i leah catherine." you sighed but grabbed her phone none the less since it connected first.

"you still love me but." leah smirked teasingly, eyes focused on the road as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. "lee. why did you run off today?" you questioned after a comfortable silence had fallen between you, unable to ignore the topic any longer.

"i didn't, just had to drop laura home." leah shrugged it off as you gave up trying to work out where you were going as she turned the opposite way that you expected her to.

"right. only after we saw that silly sign you seemed-" you continuned softly, cut off as leah turned up the current song and started to loudly sing along, wordlessly sending the message she didn't want to answer.

dropping it for now not wanting to spoil the blondes seemingly improved mood before a meal together you sang along with her as she drove. "oh we've not been here before." you perked up as leah finally turned in and parked, not recognizing where you were.

"some of the girls recommended it awhile back, i think dean took steph here for their anniversary if my memory serves correct?" leah commented, parking up and clicking her tongue at you as you went to open your door.

"you really are something else." you smiled as she appeared in front of you swinging the door open. "i will open doors any day for you my pretty lady." leah bowed as you smacked her shoulder and the defender stood up straight with a grin, grabbing your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your interlocked fingers.

the two of you fell into step as another comfortable silence fell between you, the sun starting to set bathing you in a warm golden glow, the dark clouds from earlier today now long gone.

"williamson." leah spoke with a smile to the hostess at the front who nodded, grabbing two menus and leading the two of you through the resteraunt. "its beautiful in here lee." you squeezed your girlfriends hand with an awestruck smile at the interior.

floor to roof there were old stone pillars, painted to look washed out as plants hung from the tops and vines spiraled around them, gold edged finishing on the dark mid century wooden furniture.

"wait till you see outside." leah murmered, kissing your cheek with a smile as the two of you were lead outside, your eyes lighting up seeing a small fire pit. "here?" you asked as the waitress gestured for the two of you to take a seat, the semi circle bench with an in built table a little sunk into the ground creating a cosy but private atmosphere.

there was a live band playing on a small stage and the soft chatter from your fellow diners just added to the cosy atmosphere as you thanked the hostess and sat down, leah making sure you were comfortable before taking a seat herself.

"like it?" leah raised an eyebrow but curiously and a little nervously, the two of you were creatures of habit and seldom tried new places, rather preferring the guaranteed satisfaction of what you knew wouldn't disappoint you.

"it's perfect leah. but why?" you laughed quietly, leaning in to kiss her properly and pulling away, neither of you overly large fans of pda given your shared 'famous' status and the risk of prying eyes or phone cameras.

"do i now need a reason to take my beautiful wonderful gorgeous girlfriend out for a nice meal?" leah smiled charmingly, resting her chin on her hand. "mm no but its much less suspicious when you do have one." you retorted, knocking your knee against hers as someone arrived to take your order.

not even having glanced at the menu yet you both smiled apologetically and ordered drinks, busying yourselves deciding what to eat and ordering food once your drinks arrived.

"so this lovely spontaneous meal would have nothing to do with that sign today then would it love?" you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow, sipping on your drink as leah rolled her eyes.

"no it would not!" "you do realise i've known you for years now williamson and you are a terrible liar."

"alright maybe the sign had me a little tiny teeny weeny bit jealous. but mostly i realised we'd not had a proper date night in far too long!" she grinned at the last part of her answer, hoping you'd skip over the first bit.

"jealous i might marry a wee stranger with a sign were we? thats a bit rom com cliche for me my love." you chuckled as your girlfriend playfully smacked your leg and finished her drink, setting the empty glass down as within seconds it was whisked away by someone.

"dunno i bet if i turned up outside your window with a big speaker and confessed my undying love for you you'd be swooning quite hard darling." leah smiled, eyes ablaze with nothing but sheer adoration for you.

"that would have certainly been much more romantic." you teased, leahs cheeks flushing pink at the memory. "stop! i was young and nervous and....sweaty." the defender cringed, having practically cornered you in the showers sweating bullets with nerves and practically yelling at you to go on a date with her.

"now babe how did it go again?" you pondered as leah groaned and hid her face in her hands. "go on a date with me tomorrow!" you mocked her accent and hummed. "no that wasn't it." you stroked your chin thoughtfully as your girlfriend groaned louder and smacked your knee, hiding her face in her hands.

"date tomorrow me please really like you!" you again mocked her accent and nervous stutter with a wolfish grin as the blonde was saved any further embarrassment as your food arrived.

the two of you grew up together on the football pitch in your teen years, both growing quite close through the arsenal academy leah made her senior team debut just a season before you and you couldn't be prouder.

though the distance between you now as you stayed training with the b team meant she realised she wanted to be more than friends and harboured quite unfriendly feelings.

feelings she made the mistake of confessing to her new teammates who'd at first teased her relentlessly and then came the ongoing pushing to tell you how she felt.

leah finally cracked once you signed your own contract and were finally training by her side again, the teasing growing worse for a very clearly flustered leah, a side you weren't used to having known her to be occasionally over confident.

you'd chalked it down to nerves for the talks of her impending senior national team call up, everyone else chalked it up to her being disgustingly head over heels for you and surprisingly too scared to let you know.

this meant six agonisingly slow months passed where leah continued to be given shit for the pining looks sent your way when you weren't looking, until one day something snapped and she decided no more would she hide the truth away.

it may have coincidentally also been the day she heard rumours of you allegedly being dragged along speed dating later that night with some of the other older girls 'for a laugh'.

so swallowing every single doubt which screamed at her this was a terrible idea leah had tried time and time again that day to speak with you, but something or someone seemed to pop up and get in the way every time.

which had been what lead to the abrupt and incredibly awkward shower room incident, though really as much as leah was horrifically mortified you'd found it endearingly cute.

given you still teased her for it this day and the two of you had been dating for years and years now as leah got older the regret of how she'd gone about asking you out had begun to melt away.

"ready to go baby girl?" leah asked as your plates were cleared, the two of you practically now sitting on top of one another as you relished in the welcome warmth both from the fire pit and one anothers bodies.

"did you want one more drink?" you turned your head to question, quite comfortable in your current position. "nah, one of us has to be sober enough to drive home." leah teased, ducking her head to press her lips to yours, pulling away far sooner than you'd have liked as she squeezed your hips indicating you stand up.

making your way hand in hand through the restaurant, now both well fed and a tiny bit tipsy in your case you both cared less about the displays of affection, having been papped together many times over the years anyway but just never directly addressing anything.

thanking the hostess leah was quick to grab the door for you, your cheeks flushing bright red as she lightly patted your bum as she walked out after you, causing you to shoot her a playful glare over your shoulder.

the blonde was even quicker to pull off her suit jacket, draping it over your bare shoulders and silencing your protests that now she would be cold with several kisses, mumbling about how she was warming herself up with them causing you to laugh against her lips.

many sweet kisses and cheesy compliments exchanged during the walk back to the car you shrugged off leahs arm and darted to her door, pulling it open for her for once as she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"must be the jacket." you teased as she rolled her eyes but slid into the car, making a point to lean over the console to push open your own door for you anyway.

finally pulling into your driveway with a firm look from your girlfriend you waited patiently for her to make her own way to your door, gasping in mock surprise as she pulled it open and once again bowed.

"sap!" you teased shoving her as you grabbed her hand and stood, leah closing the door and locking her car up after you. "okay before we go inside." your girlfriend started halting you in your tracks by the front door, causing a suspicious frown to grow on your face.

"i need you to trust me please." the taller girl took your hands in hers with a gentle squeeze as you slowly nodded. "i do."

"okay good. now please put this on then, no questions." leah reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a blindfold as you raised an eyebrow but begrudgingly did as she asked, flinching as her hands fell to your shoulders once you'd heard her unlock the front door.

"i got you." she chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and carefully guiding you inside, murmering when steps were coming or there was obstacles.

you heard the back door sliding open and felt your girlfriend carefully help you down the back steps as she asked you kick off your shoes and your feet sunk into the soft grass of the backyard.

eventually you felt yourself step onto something rougher causing your eyebrows to furrow curiously as leahs hands fell from your body and you heard some shuffling around but you knew there wasn't a point to you asking anything as she would just not answer.

"okay, you can take it off now love."

it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust once you'd pulled off the cloth blindfold but once they did your hand flew to your mouth and your body locked up, your reaction clearly amusing the blonde knelt down in front of you.

the roughness beneath you was a large aztec blanket, with two beanbags and cushions scattered all around as lanterns and fairy lights hung from the trees and on each corner of the blanket around you illuminating your backyard in a soft golden glow.

"leah..." you trailed off, shaking your head unable to find words as she sent you a soft smile and held up her hand to silence you.

"now you know why i was so pissed off with that stupid bloody sign today. i've had this planned out for weeks and of course the day i choose to do it, which i promise was long pre planned, some other randoms got a sign asking for your hand and making me look like some jealous numpty whose concocted a last minute proposal just to spite some teenage fangirl!" leah scoffed with a shake of her head making you let out a half laugh half sob as her features softened.

"you're such an idiot." you managed to get out making her grin and shuffle forward a little, reaching into her other trouser pocket as your heart rate accelerated even faster if that was humanely possible.

"jesus christ." you exhaled shakily as she pulled out a small velvet box and popped it open, the ring inside glinting back at you. "not my name love but i'll take it." leah grinned boyishly as you again let out a laugh, hand still covering your mouth in shock.

"my beautiful girl. i've loved you for as long as i've known you and though it took me a little bit to realise i think i might've been in love with you that entire time too." leah started as your knees felt like buckling.

"you are the most warm, caring, kind, attentive, empathetic, passionate and selfless person i've ever had the utter pleasure of having in my life let alone the absolute honor of calling my partner in life. you've always been the one whose better with words between us but i'm going to do my very best to remember all of-" as excitement shot through your body you couldn't help but interrupt.

"yes!" you cried out suddenly, taking leah off guard as she faltered mid speech and your face blushed bright red. "yes?" leah asked wide eyed as you nodded furiously. "yes, yes, yes, a million times yes." you laughed as another sob wracked your body.

the blonde was up and on her feet within seconds and hoisting you off the ground, spinning you around as tears of joy spilt over from her own eyes and you wasted no time smashing your lips to hers.

"i had a whole lovely long heartfelt speech planned out about how much i love and adore you dickhead. i've proposed to laura, lia and beth about three thousand times now for practice!" leah laughed against your lips as she carefully settled you back down on your feet and pressed her forehead to yours.

"save it for your vows?" you smiled guiltily, biting down on your bottom lip as leah let out a pelt of laughter, letting go of you to wipe away her tears before very gently wiping away your own with the pad of her thumb, tugging you into yet another kiss.

"wait! at least let me-" she pulled away and dropped down onto one knee again, carefully pulling out the ring and placing the box down by her side.

"may i please be your wife?" leah asked, eyes once more welling up with tears as you nodded and she grabbed your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger as you pulled her up to her feet.

"you know i also had this to get to, you really are so inpatient!" leah threw her head back with a laugh, stepping back and lifting one of the beanbags pulling out a bundle of red.

as she dropped it open you let out a laugh of your own, seeing it was an arsenal jersey with williamson on the back but with your own number, clearly an indicator of the future to come.

"mm mrs williamson has such a perfect ring to it my girl, i can't wait to be your wife." "i love you so so very much, fiance." "i bet that girl is gonna feel proper stupid now." "leah!" "what? she beat me to the punch but i got the final knockout." "you're forever and always the winner in my eyes baby."

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso community

[neoarchipelago]

Cotton candy pacifier

A/N: Was this scheduled? No. Did I wrote it? Yes. I have a blank page problem right now and went out to an amusement park last weekend. My own hormones have made me fantasize and throw together this shit. Please have mercy on me at this point.

Warnings: (f! Reader x Simon) ADULT CONTENT. 18+ pregancy talk, breeding kink, cursing, p in v. Oral receiving. Slight blood, biting.

Simon never wanted to be a father. Too much baggage and trauma, too much fear of never having a good role model to be a good father. You had talked about it. You had long conversations. And even if you were understanding, accepted this fate, saying that he was all you could ever wish for, words hitting him like a mix of pain and pleasure, he saw the hint of sadness behind your eyes. 

He had tried to be extremely soft, and passionate for months after those discussions, trying to show you how much he loved you. 

So here he was. Black t-shirt tight around his torso, mask on and black cargo pants. Looking at the large group of recruits in front of him. Price Laswell and another higher up beside him as the last warnings were given. 

Soldiers and their families had been offered a full day at an amusement park the military had privatized for the occasion. 

As much as he tried to remain professional, his eyes often turned to you, pretty little excitement sprawled across your face, almost jumping in place. Jeans shorts and tank top with your little backpack, hair messily tied up. Soap was a menace next to you, already giving him a headache. But you were such a lovely sight. 

When finally, the briefing was over and everyone made their merry way into the park, Price, Laswell and Ghost walked towards the group. Laswell joined her wife and so did Price, the two little munchkins jumping at the sight of their dad. You immediately rushed to Ghost's side as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Soap was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, gaz not too far behind causing Price's kids to be overexcited. Ghost sent them a warning look before everyone headed for the first attraction. 

The morning went smoothly, Soap and Gaz betting on who would handle the worst roller coasters while Price and his wife indulged in some of them, as you accepted to look over the kids during the ride time. The kids were thrilled to simply spend time with their Uncle Ghost, sometimes joined by Soap and Gaz, for small carousels or mild roller coasters. The parents were thankful and indulged in some time without taking care of the kids too much. 

It was what first started bugging him. The way you were happily cleaning up Kyle's chin as ice cream had dripped down. The look in your eyes made something burn in him. Or the way the little Lily munched on a few fries in your arms while you made sure her little hat was secured and her skin hadn't been too touched by the sun. 

He didn't mind at all John's kids. He even liked spending time and taking care of them, feeling a sense of protectiveness over the small cute beings. He sometimes grumbled that Soap and Gaz were even harder to take care of than John's well behaved kids. 

Something else bothered him. Not the little heart strings being pulled when he saw you smiled at him when he won two plushies for the kids. He was almost sure you looked at him with something between happiness, adoration and pure fucking need. He was almost taken aback by it but also by the way he absolutely adored seeing that look on your face. That same look that seemed to show up more and more through the day, as he held Kyle on his shoulders, or held Lily as she fed on her bottle.

But it vanished quite quickly. When another recruit whispered to you that the lieutenant seemed to be the perfect dad and you two would be amazing parents. He had heard. Of course he did. He was a trained soldier with years of experience and trauma. 

After that, you had avoided eye contact when he held up the kid unless it was a polite smile or kind smile. You'd turn to the child in his hold for something but ignore his gaze on you. You weren't exactly sad. Something else was laced with your new avoidance. It was growing on his nerves. That and the new intrusive thoughts of you, holding a child. The image far in his mind, a high resemblance with you and a mix of him. 

He could feel his fists clench as the images rushed through his mind. You, glowing under the sun, swollen with his child. The idea mixed with his fear. He tried to pull you closer to him as you held the little girl, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as the little girl reached for his mask without an ounce of fear in her eyes. He could feel your breath hitch and the shiver that ran through you. His hand reached for the little girl's cheek, barely pinching, making the girl giggle. The soft skin against rough calloused one, hands that saw more horrors than the child would ever witness. 

"S..Simon?" You stuttered, turning your head to send a questioning look. 

He didn't answer, only dropping a kiss on your head through the mask. The idea crept in his mind, nesting there and haunting his mind. Price noticed. Of course he did. He knew Simon all too well, even through the mask. 

"Ghost. What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to him. 

Simon remained silent, eyes looking at you as you ate the soft cloudy pink thing in your hand. 

"If you keep looking at her like that she'll notice." He teased. 

"She wants kids." Simon blurted out. 

"And you don't.." Price deduced. Simon groaned, closing his eyes. "Simon. Talk to me." Price added. 

"I… shit." Simon felt the frustration grow. "I'll never be a good father. Fuck. I don't know what's a good father." 

"Now you're hurting my pride and feelings." Price added. 

Simon's head snapped towards the man who arbourded one of his signature smiles. 

"I didn't mean… Price, you're an amazing father." Simon caught himself. 

"I wouldn't say amazing. No one's perfect." He clarified, straightening himself. "But I try." He smirked. "Simon. It is your decision whether or not you want to have kids, and her decisions to accept it or not. But don't take that decision based on your past. You are not that man." He said, eyes locking into Simon's one. "I'd like to think, I raised you all to be better than that." He joked. 

He was right. Price was the closest thing to a father he ever had. The best role model he could think of. It didn't erase the fear of it all. But a tiny part of his brain was unlocked, one that might see himself with a baby later on. Price patted his back, smiling again before getting up to join his wife. Simon tried to look at you, falling into your pretty eyes. He frowned at the worried look on your features. He straightened himself, subtly patting his thigh. He cursed under his breath watching you obediently skip to him to sit on his lap. 

"Are you.. ok, Simon?" You asked, a low voice. 

"I'm ok baby. Are you ok love? " he asked as well. You looked away for a second, making him slightly squeeze your thigh. "Talk to me Y/N." He insisted. 

You bit your lip before looking up at him with your pretty soft eyes. 

"I'm sorry…" you whispered. 

"You're sorry baby?" He frowned. "Tell me why." 

"For.. I mean.. I've been with the kids all day so far.." you stumbled on your explanation. 

"Yes. You have, why are you apologizing about that?" He was confused. 

"I know… you don't want kids… we've talked about it. I don't want to annoy you by playing mama-" 

He groaned, eyes shutting closed. Images of you playing 'mama' making his cock twitch in his pants. Now where did this new attraction come from? 

"I'm sorry Simon!" You whined. His eyes snapped open.

"No baby. I'm not mad. I'm not annoyed.. don't think that." He reassured, his hand leaving your thigh to softly caress your cheek. 

"You're… not?" You asked, a slight hint of relief in your voice. 

"Of course not baby. Shit… you've been.. beautiful, playing mama.." he hissed. 

He watched you blink, with a little shocked expression on your face. You tilted your head slightly. 

"What..?" You asked. 

"So fucking pretty… with Lily at your hip.." Simon groaned again, face burying in your neck, his pants getting uncomfortable. You shivered slightly. 

"S-simon…" you whined a bit. "There's… people…" 

As if on cue with your words, his hand caressed your thighs, featherlight fingers up and down your skin, sometimes too close to the burning heat growing in between your legs. He was supposed to behave. Just like he had instructed the recruits this morning at the briefing. But you looked tempting. And the new images in his head, him fucking his seed deep in you, with the slight possibility of watching you later on with your own baby. He was a pleaser after all. Your hands squeezed slightly his shoulders, trying to squirm nearer to him. 

"Fuck.." he cursed against your neck. "Need you baby.." he growled against your ear. 

"We… the car.." you tried, making him grin at your already hazy mind, just from the thought of him fucking you. 

"No. Too long." He shook his head. He tapped your thigh lightly to make you stand, as you looked at him with a questioning look. He intertwined the tip of your fingers with his, barely pulling you forwards in front of him, your obvious compliance making him eager. He made you walk, sending a last glance to the group as Price caught his eye, shaking his head playfully at him. 

His hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the nearest 'staff only' door. 

"S..sir, you can't-" 

Simon threw a death glare to the poor employee who simply walked away, pretending not to have seen anything. You were softly pushed inside, the door closing behind the both of you.

"Simon-" 

He had already lifted his mask above his nose, hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed your lips softly. A sigh escaped him, as if he finally felt the tension release from his muscles. You stepped closer to him, hands on his chest, a burning touch that made him crave more. Perhaps you were the sun, burning brightly for him, and he was Icarus, with the only goal to fly to you, no matter if you burn down his wings. He made sure to wrap his arm around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he pushed you back against the wall. Once he was sure you were safely against the wall, his hands now caressed your body freely, pushing and pulling at your clothes, only aching to feel your skin against his. 

You were already whimpering, your hands slipping under his shirt, nails softly scratching his lower back giving him goosebumps. He ached for more. Needed to feel you. His hand pulled on your top with a rougher pull, freeing your perky breast. 

"Simon! Someone could… walk in-" your complaints turned into a moan as his mouth found your sensitive nipple. You pushed forward your chest, giving him more access. 

"So willing for me princess…" he groaned against your skin. You whined, hand at the back of his neck, trying your best to stifle your moan. His cock was painfully hard, images of you pregnant with his child only bringing him over the edge of control. He kneeled suddenly as you gasped, his hands undoing your short's button and zipper with expertise before pulling them down with your panties. He lifted one of your legs making you grab onto his shoulders to keep balance. 

"Need to taste you.." 

His hands hooked under your legs, wrapping around your ass before he planted a soft kiss on your naked lips. He could almost make such a sinful act look like the purest of them all. His eyes looked up at you, the sight of him down on his knees, mouth against your already soaked pussy made you whine pornographicly. His eyes were firmly planted into yours as his tongue slowly darted out, almost lazily, licking a stripe across your folds, not dipping in. You whimpered at the sight, your hands meeting the side of his face as you looked down at him lovingly, abandon written all over your gaze. 

He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling unworthy of such dedication. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you as he groaned, feeling the wetness of his boxers as his cock leaked precum. He swirled the tip of his tongue on your puffy clit a few times, delicately before losing once again all control. He ate you like his life depended on it, his hips thrusting forwards slightly at a higher moan from you. 

"Simon!" You hissed, scolding him from making you be so loud. 

You weren't truly mad. How could you when his tongue was dragging you to the pits of hell where he sat on his throne ready to fuck you just like you like it. He was your devil, your beast, the one you'd happily sin for, give in your soul and life to. You shut your eyes, feeling the familiar high approaching. You whined his name, but he knew. Of course he knew. One would say you were an open book to him. He'd say you were a holy scripture. You'd say that he was the only one able to decipher you. 

When you felt your body shake, stars behind your eyelids from pleasure and your hand hitting the wall behind, Simon's grip tightened on you, making sure to hold you up. You were panting when he pulled back, licking his lips greedily. He let his forehead fall against your stomach as his fingers traced down lazily to your still pulsating pussy. Two fingers at your entrance, toying with you before slowly pushing inside. 

"Simon… ah.. please.." you moaned, unable to keep your level down. 

He thrusted slowly, making sure to stretch you slightly, preparing your tightness to him. The impatience was killing him. Now was too much. His fingers left your heat, his tongue lapping at his fingers as he moaned against them. He got up, kissing you again, tongue demanding and dominating. His hand flew to his belt unbuckling it single handedly without breaking the kiss. Your breath hitched at the sound of it. 

"Need to have you now… need to fuck you.." he said, his voice deeper and tone darker. The heavy contrast with the screams and laughter from outside of the door. Yes. Your devil. 

But as he lifted you up, hands hooking underneath your knees, his tip at your entrance- when did he even?!- you snapped into reality. 

"Simon wait! We don't have any condoms!" You yelped. 

Condoms? Ah yes… you had stopped the pill two months ago for some hormonal problem. Shit… his mind went blank, neurons gone to play cards or something while the little naughty thoughts of his newly found kinks spurred his nerves. He bottomed out in one thrust, your wetness helping but the stretch and burn still present as you yelped. 

"Si.." you tried to shake him out of his trance. 

"Shh.. baby, let go… it's ok…" he shushed, hips thrusting up into slow movements, easing the burn and letting his fat cock rub against your walls the way he knows you like it. You were trying to keep a stern face, trying to scold him, but you'd lie if you'd say his behavior didn't truly turn you on. The position only helped him grind your clit, sending little electricity waves up your spine. When he finally had your brain into a cockdrunk mush, he grinned, picking up the pace. Your hands holding on to dear life around his shoulders as you whined and moaned loudly, eyes glossy and brows furrowed in a little pout. 

"That's it baby… good girl… god you look so pretty, fuck, look so pretty taking this fat cock…" he groaned, making you squeeze around him, second orgasm way too close already. How did he even get you there so fast? He was damned skilled but shit… the way he looked at you. Logic gone, pupils dilated, muscles flexing underneath your palms. He looked ready to devour you… or devote himself to you. At this point you were sure both were knotted into a messy curse. What had happened to have him completely lose himself? Risk it all for a wild fuck? 

A ping sadness coursed through you, probably flashing through your eyes as he thrusted deeper once to grab your attention. 

"What's wrong baby?" He panted, slowing down his pace to slow, longing thrusts. 

"You're… ah…Si… you're risking.. a lot…" you whined, trying to focus through the pleasure. He was. He definitely was. And he loved it. Loved the idea to fill you up with his seed and pump you full until he was sure to see you round with his- 

"God.. fuck." He cursed loudly, craving giving him goosebumps as he slammed roughly into you. His mind was dirty talking him into a mess. "Yes. Shit. I'm risking it. I want it. Fuck. I need it." He chanted. 

The heat rose to your cheeks, you didn't know if his words did something, but you came hard, unable to keep the loud moan echoing through the room. 

"Wh..what..? Simon!" You tried to gather your thoughts. 

A little tsk escaped him. Now that wouldn't do. He needed to up his game. You were thinking too much. His face was close to yours. Eyes boring into your very soul that you knew he had a chokehold on. 

"Did I fucking stutter? You've been so pretty today…" he growled. "Acting like a mama with the kids… shit… been trying to stop myself from bending you over the, fuuuck… nearest surface just to breed this pretty little cunt.." you were going to talk. Say something but he cut you off. "We'll talk… not now… focus on me. Let me make you feel good… enjoy the feeling… the idea of me stuffing you full of my cum.." he rasped against the skin of your neck. 

A curse, a jinx. Perhaps a devil but also some old god that came to ensnare you. You obeyed. Willingly give in. Entrusting him. The idea blooming in your mind, his eyes trapping you in that familiar feeling of no one else in the world but the two of you. No more laughs and screaming from outside. Nothing more but the two of you, the feeling of his length splitting you open at a reckless pace. 

"Good girl… there you go.." he praised, feeling you relax in his arms, finally unable to think of anything else but him. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, the grinding of your clit making you jolt slightly, tears overwhelming you. 

"S'good.. so… good…" you whined, tears running down your cheeks now. 

"Yes baby… shit, so fucking good… you're doing good." His thrusts were sloppier, the sound of skin slapping and the sound of wetness filled the air. You were going to cum again, that one would wreck you. But wasn't this Simon's favorite pastime? Wreck you. Ruin you until the only thing on your mind is him. 

"Si-" you moaned hiding in his neck. 

"I know baby… I know… me too… s'close.." he moaned as he let his head back, giving you access to his neck. You nudged the fabric of the mask with your nose, just enough to show skin you could sink your teeth into as he made you bounce on his cock like you weighed nothing. 

"You gonna cum for me? Milk my cock deep in you?" You moaned pitifully as an answer. "Yes you are mama… make me so proud of how well you're taking me…" 

His new found nickname he found for you made something in you snap. You sank your teeth into his neck, the pain making him groan and jolt his hips up, hitting that sweet spot of yours. Now he was focused. Had a goal. His hips slamming into you at the perfect angle to make you crumble. And you were going to. He could feel it. His own high dangerously close. 

"Cum with me mama… milk daddy and keep it all inside baby…" he cooed with a hiss as you bit another spot on his neck. 

You shuddered around him, hips trembling trying to meet his thrusts, not that you needed it. The next wave of pleasure was blinding, your whines lost in sobs, nails digging into his back through the shirt, teeth drawing tiny droplets of blood on his neck. The loud curse, followed by moans as his sticky warm cum filled you up so deeply made your mind dizzy, your hearing gone for a few seconds. 

He remained like this as you both tried to breathe the same air. His cock deep in you, plugging you full.

"Simon.." you sobbed. 

He shushed you, lulled you in his arms, rocking left and right. 

"Did so good baby… proud of you." He kissed your hair, slipping out of you before quickly putting you down on your feet, helping you stand before kneeling to help you slip back your panties and shorts back on. He zipped them up and buttoned the jean fabric. 

"Darling… I'm still dripping with your cum…" you whined through a hiccup. 

He let you slowly back against the wall just enough to shove his cock back in his briefs, closing his cargo pants. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He looked around the room, now taking in your surroundings, some kind of storage rooms for props. An old couch in a fairy tale against a wall. He picked you up bridal style, walking to the piece of furniture before sitting down, cradling you in his lap. He hugged you tight, praises kissing your skin. 

"Simon… where did that come from…" you tried making him look at you. 

"I…" he tried, clearing his voice. The reality of what he did hit him. "I've been watching you with the kids all day… don't know, what came over me…" he said, in some sort of apology. 

"It's.. I'll get a plan B…" you mumbled. 

"No-" he hurried. You looked at him in shock. "Listen… we'll talk about this… I, need to talk about this again. I don't know if I changed my mind, but I definitely… like, the idea of you bearing my child." He spoke, voice strained, unsure of his own words, feelings running across his mind at full speed. 

"We'll talk about it then… but.. this" you blushed, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the way your panties were soaked with a mix of the both of you. "It happened…" 

"Yeah… it did. I think… we still have a bit of time to think about it… doesn't have to be now. We'll talk at home. Just.. sorry I lost my shit." He apologized. 

"I like it…" you whispered. His heart jumped. 

"Oh mama… don't make me bend you over the couch…" he warned. 

You giggled. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, nuzzled against your neck. Yes. You'd talk about it. You had to. He had to face every possible consequence of his actions. And make up his mind. He kept you in his arms for a long half an hour, making you giggle and cuddling you close to him. When he finally stood up with you, watching close your eyes and bite your lip, probably at the sensation of his seed dripping into your panties, he fought the need to simply fuck you again, or put you in his car and drive home to keep you in bed for the rest of the weekend. 

"Simon! No!" You scolded. 

You had seen his gaze. You knew that burning gaze. He smirked before pulling down his mask, walking to the door with you. The sun was blinding, the noise of the park bringing you back to the real world. Simon glared again at the poor employee who immediately looked away. He held your hand as you both walked through the park, looking for the rest of the group. Soap was the first one to notice you, loudly calling you, bringing your attention to the group. 

"Hey! Where have you guys been?! Ghost you gotta ride that roller coaster with me!" He excitedly blurted out. Ghost sighed, making Soap roll his eyes with an overdramatic groan. 

"Come on Y/N! You're coming then! You splash in the water after" He smirked at you. 

Ghost tightened his hold on you, hand swiftly wrapping around your waist. 

"I think Y/N needs a moment of rest. I think she's wet enough…" John's wife said, a teasing look towards you, making you blush madly. 

"What are you talking about? She's totally dry…" Soap argued with a frown, looking at her and then at you and your blushing face. His eyes widened when his mind snapped things together. He stepped back, widening his stance to point a finger at Ghost. 

"You naughty rascal! In an amusement park?! After telling us to behave?!" He almost yelled. 

You hid your face in your hands. Little Kyle turned his attention to Soap while Lily giggled in her mom's arms. 

"Soap…" Ghost warned. 

"You're an animal." Soap shook his head, emphasizing the last word. 

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. Lily leaned forward, grabby hands towards Ghost. His eyes softened picking up the girl in his arms, slowly rocking her. Soap had gone from his rant to being scolded by Price for being so loud as Gaz laughed and John's wife tended to her son. Simon looked down at you, freezing on the spot. The look of lust, craving and desire in your eyes. Perhaps… This was getting interesting. 

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #captain price #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare

[potter-imagines]

Jealous Jerks

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

Prompt: After their girlfriend is asked on a date by Randy Meeks, Billy and Stu remind their girl who she belongs to.

Warning: Light smut towards the end, swearing, mentions of murder, extremely possessive Billy, typically ghostface warnings.

Word Count: 4.1K

If looks could kill, Randy Meeks would be laying guts out on the concrete pavement moaning for mercy at Billy and Stu’s feet as they happily slaughter him. The slasher pair would take pride in inflicting a world of pain and cruelty on their classmate, if given the chance. A thousand thoughts a second raced in his mind as Billy considered all the endless possibilities of taking his ‘friend’s’ life. 

Sidney had her back propped against Billy’s knee, deep in conversation with Tatum who sat between Stu’s legs. Neither girl seemed to notice their boyfriends shared distractions and boiling annoyance. Billy had to constantly remind himself not to kick Sidney off in anger as he desperately tried to focus on anything but the light blush kissing Y/n’s cheeks as Randy ranted on about different horror movies and their defaults, something Billy and Stu took pleasure in discussing. There was a possessive sting tainting his bloodstream watching her share that sweet smile she only saved for the duo. It made his stomach churn in abhorrence.

Forcing himself to tear his sharp glare from the two, Billy found a pair of blue eyes already evaluating him, blue eyes he could recognize in a dark room. Stu smirked, a light chuckle escaping from his throat. His amusement towards his boyfriend’s clear anger at the situation their girlfriend was currently tied up in. 

It was an odd arrangement the three had- odd in terms of describing the functioning. On the outside to everyone who had a viewing seat, Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott had been in a loving relationship for the past year, while Stu and Tatum had started dating recently. Billy and Stu were childhood best friends who maybe hung around each other a bit too much and Y/n had been Billy’s neighbor and best friend since birth. Friends is what anyone would label a trio, bestfriends. In private however, it was an entirely different story. In private the three could be honest about their feelings together. In private there was no reasoning to bottle the affection they shared. 

However for the time being, until their problem was resolved, the three continued to keep their real relationship underwraps and settled for covers instead. Now, Billy was honest that he felt zero love towards Sidney, although he wasn’t honest with his partners about his deep rooted hatred for his ‘girlfriend’.  To Stu and Y/n, Sidney was their classmate, a nice friend, and that was it. They didn’t know of the constant itch Billy had to slice her throat open and watch her bleed out. They didn’t know Billy consistently dreamed of torturing his ‘girlfriend’ for all the pain her mother had caused him. No, Stu and Y/n had no inkling to his true intentions, all they knew was Billy loved them and Sidney was an easy excuse to blanket the reality. 

Speaking of, Billy’s daydream of murdering Randy died off at the loud shrill of Tatum made his head ache. Tatum gossiped over the latest breakups and rumors spreading through the halls of Woodsboro High as Sidney nodded along, leaving Billy and Stu to steal casual glances at Y/n and Randy. Stu lolled his head to the side in a dramatic roll, making a face of disgust. 

“Would you two quit with the eye fucking eachother? It’s getting old, man.” 

“I’m sorry you’re incapable of having an intelligent conversation with a female without the idea of fucking her tainting every thought that crosses your brain- which trust me, I know there aren’t many that pass by, but we’re actually discussing something if you don’t mind.” 

The cocky grin Stu sported was wiped away in an instant. Billy watched his light hearted stare turn cold in a matter of seconds at being put down. Y/n didn’t seem to pay any mind to her lovers as she hardly moved her body to glance at Stu, which only seemed to frustrate the teen even more. In a twisted way Billy found himself pleased at Stu’s reaction. He knew Randy’s comeback had caught him off guard as no more words fell from his always yapping lips. Instead, Stu sent Y/n a knowing glare, almost as if warning her she’d be paying for Randy’s words later, then turned back to Billy. 

In five minutes the group would be forced back in the stuffy halls and classrooms, all they needed to do was make it five more minutes, then three more class periods, and the trio would have an entire weekend alone at Stu’s home. Only five more minutes. Billy was determined to force a lid over his emotions and keep his cool until the bell struck three. Once they were off school grounds and away from prying eyes and cover ‘lovers’ could he make Y/n pay for the unknowing torture she was throwing on her boyfriends. He was aware it was hypocritical, sure.

Day in and day out Y/n was forced to watch Stu cuddling up to Tatum and Sidney hanging off Billy’s arm, and never once did she snap. However, that cool, calm demeanor she possessed was not a trait Billy or Stu had any desire to develop. Besides, the three had rules set in place to keep eachother from going crazy. Kissing was acceptable as it was mandatory in a way to keep their acts up, although sex was off the table. All three had agreed on that unanimously. If they were that desperate to get their rocks off, they’d simply hangout at Stu’s place and consummate their relationship until the sun rises. 

Now the rule of touching was an unspoken rule, one Billy and Stu had yet to have a reason to discuss, until today. Billy was determined to drill it into Y/n’s head over and over later that he would murder the next man to have his hand resting on her thigh the way Randy did right now. 

A soft weight fell on his shoulder as Sidney turned to him, a concerned look gracing her features. 

“Are you alright? You’ve been quieter than normal.” The sweetness in her voice nearly made Billy recoil in repugnance. She was the last person he wanted to comfort his sour mood. It was as if he was a different person around her- a character in a Halloween mask of sorts. Sidney was like the spring play he worked so hard to perform perfection for, but it was just that, an act. Y/n and Stu, now they were the real deal and there was no need to feign any front around them. 

Lips pulled into a tight line Billy forced a smile as he nodded, 

“I’m fine.” 

This seemed to satisfy her enough as Sidney resumed her conversation with Tatum, and Billy’s attention fixed once again on the movie geek and his girl. His girl who refused to make eye contact since the group had sat around the fountain- hell, her back had been facing the four since she arrived, her full attention devoted to Randy. Billy Loomis was livid. Hell, even Stu who was oblivious half the time was beginning to twitch in annoyance, his gaze shifting between the two like clockwork. 

Y/n popped a handful of green grapes in her mouth, smiling as Randy explained his theory on whether Michael Meyers is capable of death or not.

“I never realized you were so knowledgeable in the world of horror movies. You know, if you don't have any plans for tonight, you could come uh, you could come over and we can watch a few together? And hangout and stuff… if you want.” Randy rubbed the back of his neck, his flooding anxiety seeping through each word. Stu’s head whipped to Billy without warning, eyes wide in shock. There was no way in hell Randy actually believed he could score a date with their girlfriend- well, their non-exclusive exclusive girlfriend. 

Billy’s glare hardened like molten lava forming into jagged rocks. The audacity, he thought to himself. Did Randy truly believe he had a chance with her? If his advances weren’t so obtuse, Billy might’ve found a pinch of humor to the situation. Stu scoffed loudly, already set for a line of low blows and insults when Tatum turned her attention to the pair. Resting her hand on Y/n’s shoulder the blonde sent her a bright smile, 

“Aw, that’s so cute! Randy has a crush!” Leaning forward, her voice turned to a whisper, though not quiet enough for the others to miss. “Believe me, you can do a whole lot better than that dweeb, Y/n.”

A slight tug of a smirk pulled at Billy’s lips while Stu howled in laughter. He slapped his knees, as if he was sitting front row at a comedy show. Sidney pushed on his shoulder signaling to quit his overdramatics, but Stu only stuck his tongue out at her before continuing his public shame on their friend. Randy rolled his eyes, a fresh coat of red dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Don’t listen to them, Randy, they’re just being jerks.” Yn reassured him, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp his in an attempt to lighten the load of public scrutiny he fell in line of. Right as his hand grabbed hers, Y/n became all too familiar with the dangerous territory she entered. Slowly stealing a glance over her shoulder, the girl held her breath. 

A shiver rattled her bones from the intensely cold stare Billy gave. Brown eyes that could easily pass as a shade away from black, every racing spark of anger flickering through. They were in a silent conversation, no words were exchanged in fear of exposure although the expression of disappointment twisted with fury was telling enough. 

Tearing her shaken gaze away, Y/n smiled up to Randy in reassurance. Sure, the girl felt nothing more than friendliness towards the boy, however that didn’t excuse a need to be rude. Randy scoffed as he leaned over to snarl at Stu and Tatum, 

“Assholes are more fitting.”

“Bet you love those, don’tcha Meeks?” Stu didn’t miss a beat as he howled with laughter at his own jab. Roughly shoving his shoulder, Randy muttered a disgruntled ‘fuck off’, before looking back to Y/n in suspense. She then realized she had failed to give him an actual answer, but the second she parted her lips ready to agree, Billy was two steps ahead.

“Too bad Y/n’s already got plans.” 

All five heads turned in curiosity at his sudden quip. For not having muttered more than a sentence the majority of lunch, everyone was rather shocked to hear him speak up. Stu chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. He could see his best friend unraveling by the seams, which to him meant the trio would be in for an eventful night at his house. Y/n peeked over her shoulder to Billy, her features scrunched in confusion. 

“Thought you had to babysit this weekend.” He stated plainly. Despite the surface level statement, Y/n could recognize the knee deep hot water she was treading in. 

“O-Oh uh, yeah. Billy is right, I’m nannying for my cousins. I’m sorry, Randy.” She offered a sympathetic smile, trying her best to hide the sensation of fear crawling up her spine. Randy nodded his head in understanding and returned the kind gesture. 

“That’s alright- maybe another time?”

The surrounding conversations resumed back to normal, however Y/n couldn’t shake that strange feeling of being watched- or rather scrutinized. She didn’t need to turn her body to know Billy had his eyes locked on her, nor that Stu was still picking fun at Randy behind her back. 

No more than a minute later had the bell rang singlaing to the group it was time to head inside. As Y/n stood to gather her things, Billy brushed shoulders causing her to stumble forward a step. Stu grabbed her by the waist as if helping to steady her, but it was all part of their plan. A hand entered the back pocket of her jeans then disappeared faster than it emerged. A small folded paper has been jammed into the denim, and before she could question either boy, they were both entering the school leaving her standing alone at the fountain. 

Curiosity got the better of her as Y/n shimmed the note from her backside and quickly unwrapped the paper. In chicken scratch was her boyfriend’s writing, and a warning of sorts,

‘glad to see you having such a great time with randy, sorry to ruin your little date. pack a weekend bag and be ready by four. we’ll pick you up after school.’ 

Y/n hadn’t even buckled her seat belt before Billy was speeding away from her home like a bat out of hell. The moment her skin touched the leather of the cushion, the car was launching forward heading for the outskirts of town where Stu resided. She had hardly muttered a ‘hello’ before Billy’s fuse burst and he allowed all those bottled up emotions to fly wild. 

“You really think we’re jerks, huh? You’d rather be spending your night cuddled up with that fucker, wouldn’t you?” Venom poisoned each word he spat. When it came to the temper of Billy Loomis, the best course of action was reassurance over arguing. His jealousy casted a threatening cloud over the atmosphere in the car. Stu sat smirking to himself in the passenger seat, clearly fine with letting Billy take the wheel. 

Casting her e/c eyes to the passing trees outside the windows, Y/n shook her head softly. 

“N-No, that’s not true, Billy. Randy is our friend-” 

The sound of skin smacking against leather caused Y/n to jump in fright as Stu let out a low whistle. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel and for a brief moment, Stu wondered if he was better off switching seats with the boiling teen.

“Our friend who wants to fuck you!”

“Maybe that’s what our little princess wants-” In a flash Billy threw his hand across the middle console and socked Stu like a ton of bricks in the chest. He hunched over, groaning in pain. “Fuck man! It was a joke!”

The sight of Stu’s remote home- a home one bedroom away from being considered a quaint mansion. Dirt and rocks kicked out from under the tires as Billy sped his way up the gravel path and launched the car to a halt in front of the driveway. Tension filled the silence as Stu turned in his seat, his hand reaching out to rest on his girlfriend’s shaky knee. Smiling over he gave her skin a squeeze, 

“You would never do that right, sweetheart?”

Y/n’s head shook ferociously, desperate to prove her innocence. Both men knew she was being honest, but that didn’t settle the rage burning inside Billy as he recalled the way Randy smiled at her as if he actually had a chance at being with her. 

“We were just going to watch some movies… that was all.” Her voice was a soft whisper, a pitch away from silence. Fear swam laps around her stomach as she carefully looked up. Billy stared straight back at her through the rearview mirror, not shying away an inch from her weary gaze. 

Opening the passenger side door, Stu stepped out of the car with a chuckle. He couldn’t help but bask in the memories of the countless times they had invited Y/n over with the concept of ‘watching a movie’, that never failed to result in her bent over the side of his couch and Billy and him traded places fucking her senselessly. Even before Y/n had joined their relationship the offer of a movie was how Billy and Stu had their first time together. In their eyes, watching a movie typically had a hidden agenda. 

“Yeah, cause everytime we watch a movie together we all totally focus on just the movie” Stu teased. 

Y/n reached out to open her door but it seemed Billy had already beaten her to the hook as he yanked the backseat door open. Grabbing her by the upper arm, he forcefully pulled her out of the vehicle. Stu was already swinging his front door open by the time Billy had slammed the back door shut. His arm remained locked around hers while he dragged the girl inside the house. 

“Billy, please stop! You’re hurting me!” If the situation were any different, Y/n might’ve been embarrassed of the squealing sounds running from her mouth. However the pain shooting through her arm was enough to distract her from the shame. 

Entering the house, Stu was nowhere to be seen. His shoes were messily discarded by the front door, but he himself wasn’t in sight. A sound of bowls crashing in the kitchen gave hints to his whereabouts. Y/n longed for Stu to help her- he had always been less temperamental than his counterpart, and was easier to talk down. Billy on the other hand seemed to have already dove head first in the deep end of envy. 

Kicking the front door, he placed his hand on her chest for no more than a second as he shoved her into the wood. Y/n’s head smacked against the oak as she groaned in pain. 

Billy’s hands moved from her chest to her face faster than the speed of sound. The grip he latched around her face was sure to leave a bruise on her chin, but scolding him for his harshness seemed to be the worst option.

“Now you know how we felt earlier watching you flirt your ass off with that stupid fuck earlier.”

Soft tears welled in her e/c eyes as she clawed at Billy to let her go, not that her attempts did anything to help. Whines poured like a river as she begged and pleaded with him to put her down. 

“I’m sorry! I was being nice, I swear! I wasn’t flirting with him, Billy, please!”

Loosening his hold around her face, Billy dropped his hands to his side, sharp glare studying her meticulously. Y/n didn’t need a mirror to know she looked like a frightened puppy in a thunderstorm, which Billy bathed in. He loved the control he possessed over her and the effect his words had. Intertwining their fingers, he wordlessly directed Y/n to the living room where Stu already had the television on and ready for the first film of the night. Guiding her to the couch, Billy motioned for her to sit as he crouched down in front of her. A sinister smirk kissed his lips.

“I want you to show us how sorry you really are, doll. Want you to show us who you belong to. We’re gonna start our scary movie night a little early, got it?”

Rounding the corner Stu excited the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn and three cans of pepsi. He tossed one to Billy, then plopped himself on the couch to Y/n’s left. His arm flung around her shoulder pulling her into his side as he planted a kiss on her temple. 

“I’m just in time, eh?”

Billy remained on the floor, his calloused hands massaging her legs, slowly working his way up until he found home in her upper thighs, lifting the cotton of her skirt for more access. 

“Our girl wants to show us how sorry she is, what do you say?” That cocky smirk remained as his attention moved to Stu, patiently awaiting his response, which didn’t take long at all. Pulling his lips from her face, Stu trailed a line of wet pecks down the skin of her neck, pausing every so often to give a small nip. Y/n couldn’t help the moans escaping her lips at the feeling of Billy’s hands hovering over her underwear and Stu making out with her neck. It was all too much at once- but she was loving every second. 

“Count me in!” He hollered. “I don’t think just once will be enough. Might have to make it up to us all night, princess. It's gonna be a scream, baby!" Stu popped his tongue out, laughing. An idea flashed through Y/n's mind and within a split second, she acted on it.

Leaning forward Y/n captured Stu's tongue in her mouth, taking him by surprise. A small gasp sounded as he tried to regain his composure. She darted her tongue against his own and kissed him with a weight of passion Stu was almost certain he had yet to experience. A wave of love flooded through the steam of the exchange making his insides feel warm to the touch.

Billy simply smiled at his loves, more than pleased with the display in front of him. As he watched the two making out, Billy slid his hand in-between the silk material clutching to his girlfriend's pussy. His fingers were cold against her heated body, causing her to jump from the pressure. Stu took the opportunity to regain control as he delved back in to deepen the kiss. His mouth wrapped around her tongue, absorbing every fiber of her being available.

Billy steadily pulled the black thong from her legs, parting her knees as he did so. A small line of slick coated the tips of his fingers, which he happily brought to his mouth for a taste. Licking his middle and pointer, Billy pushed the two digits inside at an agonizingly slow pace, working his way inside her tight hole. Y/n's back arched in reaction, a surge of pleasure washing over. Her legs kicked out an inch at the sensation as she tried to force herself to divide her attention evenly among the two men, but it was impossible. Her body was on fire and there was no calming the burn.

"Stay still, doll." Billy commanded. She could feel the vibration of his voice agonizingly close to her exposed heat, creating shivers in its wake. Breaking from Stu’s lips, Y/n’s head fell back against the red sofa. Her hand reached down to pull Billy’s away, the flurry of emotions all blending together, but Stu was too fast and caught her wrist in his grasp. Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth he pointed towards the brightly lit television. Johnny Depp was on the screen sporting a cropped jersey and shorts as he lied on his bed chatting on the phone. Nightmare on Elm Street had always been a favorite of hers, yet she had no room left for further distractions, but Stu wasn’t having it. He could see her hazed over eyes practically rolling to the back of her skull hardly paying any piece of mind to the movie. Lifting his reach, Stu sent a light smack to her cheek causing her eyes to snap wide in shock. He chuckled to himself and motioned towards the tv.

"Watch the movie, baby. Your favorite part is coming."

Billy drew a line of faint kisses up her thighs as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her core. A lewd squelching sound took priority over the screams coming from the screen as Johnny Depp's character was sucked through the mattress of his bed. Y/n couldn’t help but squeeze herself around his masterful digits. He curled himself inside of her, eager to soak the gummy texture he longed to be fully buried in. Stu took her pleated distraction as a moment of chance to place her clenched hand on top of the growing bulge confined by the zipper of his jeans. He forced the heel of her hand against the tip of his clothed cock, palming himself against her skin. He could feel her pressing back, causing him to groan at the friction. A sly smile crosses his features as he glanced down to Billy who was nearly head deep in her glistening pussy.

“Told you, princess. No one is focused on the movie, are they?”   

And Stu was right, the three hardly paid any mind to the slasher film playing on repeat in the background, they were far too busy and entangled in each other. As Billy’s hot breath fanned over her pussy, diving in without warning, Y/n was almost thankful for Randy putting her in this position. Maybe she’d have to ignore her boyfriends a little more often.

#billy loomis #billy Loomis x reader #billy Loomis imagine #scream 1996 #scream #stu macher #Stu Macher x reader #stu macher imagine #poly ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #skeet ulrich #skeet Ulrich x reader #matthew lillard #matthew lillard x reader #slasher x reader

[prettiestgrlinthemorguexo]

Made with love (Alastor x Baker! reader)

Description: Y/N invite their boyfriend Alastor to bake, of course he’s takes his own twist

This is inspired of a TikTok by @matineaux

Thank you thank you thank you @witchywriter18 for the idea!!

Warning: tooth rot fluff, established relationship, Alastor being Alastor, mentions of murder and cannibalism, polar opposite pairing

⛧☾w༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

No ones POV

Y/N and alastor had been going out for a little over a year. Y/N met Alastor after Charlie employed you as head chef claiming “the best way to the heart is through the stomach.”, even though their personal talent was baking she happily took the job. Cooking and baking food for their good exercises along with breakfast, lunch and dinner. Most of the food request were normal…expect one.

Alastor was a cannibal, so they couldn’t blame him, they tired to do what they to make him his meals…but he seemed to always be appreciative of their efforts. Cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner, Y/N was nearly always in the kitchen, after a few weeks of getting to know Alastor, he seemed to always appear in the kitchen, starting conversations which Y/N happily did even sometimes helping them prepare food, everyone knew he had a soft spot for them, after the extermination and Alastors brush with dead, made them not realize they liked each other. They were complete polar opposite pairing but they loved each other’s.

Both had their own responsibilities to attend to put always made time for eachother, if it be Y/N sitting in this little radio tour while he on air or having a conversation while you cooked. But Y/N’s favorite was their baking sessions. Alastor knew they loved to bake so he happily help them. Today was one of those days.

Y/N invited Alastor to bake with them after his daily broadcast, they had to prepare vegetables for tonight dinner during his broadcast, so they sadly couldn’t join him, while Y/N was preparing the baking tools and the ingredients, they felt a new familiar presence in the room, they smile and turn to see Alastor nearly looming over then due to his sheer height. “Hello my dear!” Alastor said happily to them as he kissed the top of their head.

Y/N smile at the show of affection, which in private was more than around the others. Alastor lend down to Y/N’s eyes level and cocked his head to look at the tools and ingredients. “Now what are we making today?” He asked curiously.

Y/N smiled putting on an apron, “Nifty asked for “cute cookies”, so we’re making heart shaped cookies for her.” Alastor somehow was able to smile wider at your words, Nifty was an important person to Alastor. “Sounds delightful? Where do we start?” He asked happily. Y/N knew he knows, the helped them bake cookies before.

Alastor love to help with the little things, if it be mixing cookie batter. Today since the cookies were heart shaped, Alastor was of course helped were is was needed. Once the two big pieces of dough was flat. Y/N open their knife drawer handing this a small knife, “you can cut a heart shape right Alastor?” Y/N asked jokingly taking another identical knife for themselves. “Of course my dear, I am a cannibal after all!” Y/N laughed at this word as they started to cut out little hearts.

After a bit Y/N was finally done, they slowly pealed off the dough around the heart revealing about a dozen of cookie hearts. “Done!” Y/N said as they threw away the extra dough. “How’s its coming love?” Y/N asked Alastor as they walked over to him. “Just finished.” Alastor said without batting an eye as he removed the extra dough. As Y/N peaked over his arm to see…hearts, but not normal hearts, they were human hearts.

Y/N batted their eyes at it for a moment before looking and seeing Alastors eyes. “Thoughts?” Alastor asked smiling wide. Y/N looked at him for a moment before smiling warmly. “They’re perfect..they remind me of you.” They said with a small laugh as they moved the cookies onto a pan and into the oven.

After they were done and cooled down. Y/N walked out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies, Alastor following close behind. “Ohh niftyyy~” Y/N Sang out. Soon Nifty was rounding the corner fast. “AHH, YOU MADE THEM!” Nifty screaming as she ran up jumping for the tray. Y/N laughed as they got on one knee showing her the tray of cookies, they were a mix of normal hearts and human hearts shapes. Nifty looked at them for a moment blanco faced before giving me a sinister smile. “THERE PREFECT!!” She screamed as she snatched the stray running away.

Y/N stood to their feet watching her scurry away quick before turning to face him, “she seems to like them huh Al?” Y/N said with a smile. “Of course she does!,” Alastor said with a smile as he took their hand, giving in a small squeeze. “You made them with love..”

Tag list

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @pooplyface1423

#x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x you

[forgeofthenine]

Can I request headcanons for how Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor would react if their gn crush (non tiefling) just asked him why their tail sways so much?

Great request Anon, I love writing about tiefling body language and this was a very fun prompt. I hope you enjoy :)

The bachelors being asked why their tail sways so much

Dammon

It seems like every time you see Dammon his tail is sweeping from side to side

As soon as you ask he gets this adorable blush on his face, breaking out in an embarrassed chuckle

He's definitely embarrassed about being caught but he's very good natured about the situation

Dammon is the type to rub the back of his neck because he feels it warming up with a blush, it's a very endearing sight

He's the most open about his feelings though, Dammon has no issues saying he's interested in you

As the two of you talk you'll notice his tail starts to move again, swaying idly behind him

You'll get a laugh out of him if you point it out

Honestly, the only end to this conversation is that the two of you now have a planned date

Please continue to tease Dammon for wagging his tail around you, he never stops doing it

Zevlor

This distinguished gentleman likes to think he has a good control over himself and his tail

He's very much just in denial about the second part

It's obvious to any other person that his tail is quite happily swaying and curling behind him

As soon as you ask generally about what tiefling tail movements mean, not why he specifically moves his tail, then he'll absolutely explain

It's when he mentions the curling and sweeping motions tieflings often make while pining for someone that things become obvious

That's the perfect time to ask if how his tail moves when you're around is a good example

You can see the exact moment the lightbulb goes off in his head

Zevlor is incredibly embarrassed, but now you know he'll absolutely tell you about his feelings

He's very sincere, the type to hold one of your hands in both of his as he asks to court you

Rolan

Cal and Lia snigger every time you come to speak to Rolan

It's confusing at first, but no one gives you a straight answer if you ask

What's even more confusing is why he's always curling his tail when you're nearby, and if it's not doing that then it's sweeping side to side

When you and Rolan are together in his private study is the best time to bring it up

He's reaching for a book on his bookcase, turned away from you, when you ask the question

You can see how his whole body goes rigid right away

His tail stops in the middle of it curling, even

When he turns to look at you Rolans whole face is covered in a blush, he doesn't quite know where to look either

Despite how good he is with words, it takes him a while to explain what's been going on

Please just give this sweet, blushing tiefling a kiss once he confesses

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 dammon #baldurs gate 3 dammon #dammon x reader #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 rolan #rolan x reader #bri answers

[setsugekka]

↳ Forever was simple: meet a man you love, and live happily ever after.

A hope built on lies, and when it all comes crashing down, you find a new faith inside of the atrium at the countryside.

painter!lee minho x fem!reader/prince!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader (side pairing) — arranged marriage au, historical au. royalty, slow burn, angst, idiots in love, sexual content. [26k wc] cws: themes of vaguely period-typical sexism, themes of loneliness, (heavy) pining + the poor decisions that sometimes result from that, themes of social anxiety + using alcohol to cope, heavy sexual content.

𝕀.

Everything around you glitters in the ambient light of the evening masquerade ball.

Tables lined with beautiful cloths sit along the edges of the ornate hall, piled high with decorative and delicious foods. Amber, bubbling drinks flow and occasionally spill out of long, crystal glasses held by perfectly manicured hands holding them just a little too excitedly.

The kind of night life that you have grown so accustomed to.

Your dress is stunning and perfectly to your tastes, hair styled to match and draped in decadent jewels to showcase yourself with. The suitors are dressed much in the same, though in far more drab colors as men tend to do. This is of no consequence to you, because your eye is set on only one in particular.

Crown Prince Hwang Hyunjin.

You watch him from across the marbled floor, through groups of guests who might as well not even be present with how rapt your attention is on him. He is tall and broad, far from lanky but toned enough to give the impression of a certain kind of sturdiness that has always edged a particular curiosity in you. Hyunjin's hair is black, tied back from framing his face with its length, and you watch him laugh through conversations with other women who likely desire the same thing as you.

Engaging in private rendezvous with potential suitors is strictly against the royal code, all the more reason that no one must ever find out about the edge above the rest that you have taken for yourself in regards to him.

The memories date back to the summer—winter now—a late night out with other women that you've mostly grown up with and set as your entourage. The first time, running into the royal Hwang entourage without prying eyes to watch you felt like something of a hint, and the second, more of a blessing as the night ended with soft hands against your skin, and plush lips pressed against your own.

These secret encounters carried on through the months, as well as implicit promises in relation to the royal choices soon to be made. Between the sheets and with warm breaths of air exhaled against the shell of your ear, Hyunjin has promised time and time again: "You will be my choice, you have nothing to fear, my love. It's all for show and display, isn't it?"

You believe him.

"Are you going to spend the whole evening in the corner by yourself?" A woman steps up beside you with a knowing grin, and you offer your elbow to her side lightly in response.

"I've no particular interest in showing myself off like some prized cut of meat for men to fawn over, you know this, Sana."

This woman, a friend since your earliest days, looks out across the crowd not unlike yourself just moments before, and then offers yet another smile of understanding before speaking.

"Not for men, perhaps, but for a man," she says. "Are you really so sure that you only carry interest in Crown Prince Hwang? There are so many other perfectly acceptable suitors to choose from."

You sigh, taking a small sip from your glass. "I do not doubt that there are, but when have you ever known me to be the type to spread myself so thin between any such possibilities in life? I have always been something of a single-eyed woman."

"That much I do know, yes," Sana says with a small laugh, "but I don't want you to be left with nothing in the event of things not turning out the way that you wish them to. The Prince has many hopefuls, and while he is the only prince, would it be so bad to consider a life outside of the royal court? You've never much cared for the excessive nature of their goings on, anyway."

Turning to look at her, you cast Sana a questioning glance, "I have grown up in the lap of luxury, it is all that I know, are you to imply a step down is what suits me rather than a step up?"

"I would never, but there are many levels between poverty, and royalty."

"Anything other than a step up, is a step down," you say firmly, pressing the rim of your glass to your painted lip again. Your eyes wander out towards Hyunjin once more, and a slight curve upwards takes them, perhaps some enjoyment in the fact that you know something that even your closest confidants do not. Perhaps some enjoyment in the fact that you have already won a game that the others still insist on competing in. "Besides, do you think not of me as future Queen?"

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing, just remember me and all of our times shared once you begin lobbing off the heads of people who dare to oppose you."

Feigning horror, you reel exaggeratedly, "Now who is assuming things?"

Sana's hand finds the small of your tightly bound back, and lightly pushes you forward.

"Go dance with your future husband, would you?"

𝕀𝕀.

While far from unusual for your nights to end up like this, perhaps after everything that this one has presented, the aura casts something different, something intangible and strange that you can't quite grasp despite its familiarity still.

The masquerade ball winds down three levels from where you reside now. People still dance and laugh and shout amongst themselves, though the largest collective of guests have long since begun their journeys back to their own homes. Your entourage awaits you somewhere outside for much of the same, though they have long since learned not to bother coming and finding you in the event that you have disappeared.

For that, you are thankful, because nothing good can come of being discovered like this.

The room is small—a sitting area with little more than a table, chair, window, and tall bookshelves filled to the brim with just that. Moonlight shines in as the only illumination, faint and appearing cool to the touch if one were able to. Only enough to find one's way, and plenty to remain hidden in the darkness while people engage in their disagreeable deeds.

Lips hurriedly find your own, teeth nipping at them with a needy hunger. Palms graze up the outside of your legs, dress hiked up and leg eventually along with it. The door is pinned shut by your back firmly pressed against it, your head tips back with a small thud, Hyunjin chuckles under his breath at the sound, and then drives his hips forward to give the both of you what it is that you've been waiting all evening for.

"I saw you speaking with Lady Sana this evening," Hyunjin whispers, mouth feathering against your neck. "Am I wrong in suspecting that you were speaking about me?"

He presses himself forward, pulls your body down and against the effort simultaneously, ensuring no space is left between your figures. You gasp at the feeling, and he smiles at the sound, fingernails digging into the flesh of your thighs and hips in places that you don't dare let any of your house staff see.

"You would not be wrong," you reply, forcefully maintaining some semblance of composure. "Only good things, of course."

Chest pinned against your own, Hyunjin pulls back, then presses into you again. The glide is smoother this time, and you can't help the moan that escapes you suddenly.

"Have you told her?" he asks, drives quicker and less shallow than before. "I must announce my decision tomorrow afternoon, not long to wait now."

The ability to converse is leaving you with each steady roll of Hyunjin's hips. Your fingernails grip tightly into his suit jacket, though it grants you little purchase with the smoothness of it. Harder, faster; the tell-tale signs of nefarious activities beginning to be heard in rhythmic fashion against the wood of the door, as well as the explicit, unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin.

"No," you manage to say, though barely, "I would never, would never jeopardize what we have waited so long for."

Hyunjin's lips trail up your neck, along the edge of your jaw and settle lightly against your own. He kisses you gently, then merely sits there to drink down the gasps and whimpers of you accepting him. There is little time for this—something that the both of you know—rolls and snaps of his hips become quick, erratic in order to meet his end, and so he does with the kind of rapidity that leaves you terribly wanting and wishing for more.

There is a parting kiss left to you, and Hyunjin readjusts himself so that he can reemerge into the public. Smoothing your dress and slipping out from the doorway, he cracks it open to leave but looks back at you with a smile that you can only assume to be full of sly adoration for you, and for this. The joys of engaging in such things unbeknownst to others, the excitement of deception.

"A shame that tomorrow we will put an end to this, isn't it?" he says.

A shame indeed, you think to yourself. And then he is gone.

𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Just as you had anticipated it would, the city streets come alive for the naming of the Crown Prince’s companion.

Bodies crowd around you by every inch, music performed with accompanying dancers displaying their crafts as well as shop setups lining the way selling beautiful merchandise; hand crafted with care that shines blindingly under the sunlight above.

As you move along your way, the numerous scents of charred meats and grilled vegetables infiltrate your senses, all encompassing and inviting in a way that makes you almost wish to give up on what it is that you are meant to do today. In order to keep your mind set, you remind yourself that soon you will be at the receiving end of royal chefs and all that it is they have to offer you. There is charm to the street cooks and their home grown and cut ingredients, but nothing matches the knowledge and adeptness of the throne.

You have dressed simply today, not wanting to draw attention to yourself nor wanting to appear expectant. Reaching closer to the stage, the bodies are packed in far more tightly, as do the frequency of other potentials come more into vision. So many women; hair stacked high and curled in such a lovely way, all standing in wait in their best dresses with moderate jewelry. It is cold today, and the lavish, heavy coats that hang around their shoulders allude to as much, but you are warm with a deep understanding of what you are to gain this afternoon.

 A few rows back from the front of the stage, you find Sana as well as another friend shared between the two of you, Tzuyu. A beautiful woman wrapped in dark vermillion red with black hair that hangs so opposingly to Sana's blonde. They both smile and greet you, as do you, to them.

"Are you anticipating the naming as much as the rest of us are?" Tzuyu asks, a bright, cheerfulness to her tone that gives her something of a charmingly juvenile expressiveness. "So many women are here in wait, I do wonder what His Highness has in store for us."

"A difficult choice awaits him, no doubt," Sana adds, glancing up towards the place where he will soon call his decision towards the people. "I question how these sorts of decisions could ever be made through matters of the heart, but I suppose when it comes to royalty, the heart is of the least concern."

Pulling your coat tightly against yourself, you force back the smile that wishes to take your lips. "I trust that he will make the right call, do you not?"

"I'd sooner disappear into the forest, never to be seen again than dare speak ill of the royal house and their choosings," Sana says through a laugh. "Besides, I would be banished to such a place for doing so, anyway."

"You speak in theatrics," Tzuyu scoffs, a roll of her eyes punctuating it. "The rulers of our country are not so sinister."

"One can only hope, but knowledge of the Crown Prince and his ways are not well known to the people, only time will tell if he is as benevolent of a ruler as His and Her Majesty are," Sana says.

You look at her questioningly, "You suspect otherwise?" you ask, but she is quick to shake her head.

"No, but I am realistic in all of the possibilities that lie before us. Quite the contract, in fact, I have heard rather good things."

Sana's tone is peculiar to you in a way that you find difficult to pinpoint as she speaks on the intricacies of Hyunjin's personality. Her face is simplistic enough to not give anything away, but the sound of her voice carries a sort of inflection when referring to him that settles a strangely ire spark within your chest.

You are given no time to question it further, however, because the royal guards set themselves perfectly in place along the stage, and the arrival of the throne is loudly announced from beyond.

His and Her Majesty step forward first, luxuriously sparkling with expensive jewels and fur coats that you would otherwise never hope to afford, not even from your own place of incredibly comfortable class. The two of them settle in the background, and without wasting any further time, the man that you have grown to love and adore enters the stage in long, tall strides that exude confidence and elegance both.

Thankful for your place in the crowd, you gaze up at him and await his eyes to meet your own. A scroll is handed to him by one of the royal staff from just outside of the main stage, and he slowly unfurls it for all waiting eyes to see.

Hyunjin, all white in attire and garnished with a stunning sash that weighs heavily with brooches and sigils, inhales deeply and then looks out towards the crowd. You stare expectantly, because this is your time. So many nights shared hushed and secret between the two of you, discussed between sheets and pillows of just this very moment that will be granted unto you. His eyes do not find yours, but it is of no particular concern to you, as there will be so many more times for adoring moments to be had between the both of you from this day forward.

No more secrets, no more hiding your love for one another.

"Thank you for gathering here today, it is an honor for me to be able to share this with the people of my country. I do not wish to take much of your time, as there are far more convivial activities for you to be partaking in, aren't there?"

Gentle laughter resounds through the crowd, and Hyunjin smiles ever so slightly at the sound of it before glancing down at the paper in hand once again.

"With my greatest pleasure, I will announce to you the future Queen of the Hwang throne…"

Excitement flows through your veins, head light and nearly dizzying as you await the call. You clutch tightly to your robe, knuckles white and forcing your breath steady as the seconds pass by you like decades until the name is called.

A name is called.

"Minatozaki Sana."

A name that does not belong to you.

From just beside you, a shriek falls from Sana's lips but is forced back halfway through, presumably as to not embarrass herself. Tzuyu clutches at the friend’s shoulders and the two of them celebrate with covered mouths, wide eyes, and hushed shock. The world dulls into a kind of unfelt, nonexistent quietness around you as you stare forward and towards this man; this man that you have shared your body and a bed with, so much of your time and trust with.

He has betrayed you.

You can no longer hear the other women around you, shrouded in disbelief as you gawk at him. Something within you wishes to disappear—humiliation beginning to thrum up and across your skin—there is a small token of solace in the fact that no one else knows of your engagements with him prior as it is widely and heavily frowned upon for the both of you, but this knowledge does nothing to ease the pain that swiftly starts to replace all of the other initial feelings that have befallen you in these seconds passing.

The dizziness begins to set in faster and heavier, you realize that you must take your leave now. You take a step backwards, bumping into another saddened hopeful, but don't even have your wits about you enough to apologize for having done so. Sana and Tzuyu grab at you, say something, but you cannot hear it through the thick blanket of betrayal that casts so heavily between you, and them. Perhaps you congratulate her, words leave your lips but you haven't the slightest clue of what they are. Sana is smiling, crying, so perhaps they have been adequate enough.

Another step back, and you look up towards Hyunjin again. This time, his eyes find yours, and all he offers you is the faintest of wicked grins.

You take your leave quietly, without another word. Heart hanging heavily and not allowing him to take the tears from you that he has so evilly and rightfully earned.

𝕀𝕍.

You are not given time to grieve your loss, as if to intentionally add insult to injury.

Unfortunately, your parents can only be as understanding as information granted allows them to be. The first month, you are given space to wade through your reasonable disappointment, but past that point in time, questions of your next potential suitor once again begin to find themselves at the forefront of discussion amongst the dinner table. You did not know this man, I understand your disappointment in not being chosen, but it's high time to look forward and set your sights towards other potentials, your mother says. Royalty is not everything, there are plenty of other perfectly well-to-do men to take your pick from, your father says.

You tell them that you will look, with no intention of truly doing so. Once the second month passes by with little more progress, you begin to find the signs around the house of your parents taking matters into their own hands.

Letters line the desk of your father’s library room, and one in particular causes the hair at the back of your neck to stand on end.

Only partially sticking out from beneath the stack, you just so slightly pull the corner to unearth more of the words that bring a sickness to your stomach. 

"Would be honored to be chosen as your daughter's suitor. The estate is grand and well-kept, though rather empty of life—" the sentence is cut off, you skip to the next area that you can read. "Staff around the clock. Any endeavors she wishes to engage in will be made available—"

The spin inside of your stomach has you reaching forward and clutching at the sides of your father’s desk. It has only been two months, and already there are discussions of having you shipped out and elsewhere, to a strange man that you have never met, and will be expected to placate in all of the ways that one might. While these sorts of scenarios are nothing new to you—the knowledge well known—this was never supposed to be you. No, you were to marry into the royal house, to be made Queen, and having done so through a shared love. 

Not pawned off to a stranger who intends to keep you as a moderately cared for pet. You have heard the stories of other such arrangements before; the best that you can ever hope for is a perfectly tepid and boring man who has no interest in your being there, and has only accepted it for the offerings that such an agreement carries between the families in a monetary and societal sense.

How could your parents do this to you? The truth of the matter, however, is that they do not know the intricacies of what it is that they are doing to you. The details of your prior goings on. They must never know, and god forbid potential suitors were to ever find out about your involvement with the Prince beforehand…shunned and displaced, you will forever remain.

Turning towards the doorway, you begin to take your leave. The wheels are in motion and there is nothing left for you to do. Moving forward, you will await the day that your father comes to you with the news of having come to an agreement with a man for the arrangement of your marriage, and you will grin and bear it as daughters of high class households are told to do. In the meantime, you will hope and pray that the man chosen by your father is a kind one, a simple one. Dull and uninteresting and with only enough attention to give to his own things.

𝕍.

Writing takes you by the soul, and always has for as long as you found yourself able to hold a pen.

Your timing in finding out about your father’s misdoings an impeccable sort, because it is only two days later that he finds you in the large study of your manor and informs you of the news. A decision has been made about your future—one that you have had no part in making—and you will be sent off in two weeks time to the northern countryside to live with a man who he describes as "kind, albeit a little eccentric from what I can gather." The documentation has already been signed, and as far as you are concerned in a legal sense, are now married to someone whose name you do not even know.

"Lee Minho," your father says quietly, and you can't help but wonder if the airiness to his voice is of true sadness in having done this to you, or a feigned one, only given because he believes it to be what you desire of him. "He's a painter, quite gifted. A very well-off man, you shouldn't worry about wanting for anything in the absence of our affluence."

Hand gripping the pen tightly, still pressed hard against the paper, you find yourself indifferent to whether or not he can see the displeasure washing over you.

"Understood, I'll have my belongings packed by the handmaidens in proper time."

Your tone is simple, offering nothing more than the most basic of expressions. He does not reply to you with any sort of swiftness, and instead sighs as he turns to make his exit.

"I'm sorry it had to come down to this," he says suddenly, and with no warning. "As you know, you are coming up on your age and—"

"I know, father," you reply, just as flatly as before and continuing with your work along the page. "It is understood."

He leaves, and your scribbling comes to you with a slightly more erratic speed.

𝕍𝕀.

The goodbyes shared with your family carry little weight, and while there is a large part of you never wishing for this day to have come, there is another area that finds solace in no longer having to live under the roof of people who have done so wrongly by you, and with such great ease.

All you needed was time, and you were not given that. Is it so difficult to carry empathy for people who are hurting? To cast aside asinine traditions of age and worth for the sanctity of caring for those that share blood? 

Sitting in the back of the carriage as it plods along, you stare out of the small window and contemplate just that. What is family, if not the people meant to care for you above all else? Hyunjin betrayed you with a kind of extravagant ease, but your family, he was not. What excuse do your parents have to cast you aside so eagerly? All but sell you off to a man and for no other reason than to maintain social appearances. Yes, my daughter married that famous painter, Lee Minho. How exceptional and prized such a partnership is. 

The journey is a long one, and you hope to have settled in your anger by the time that you arrive. You have no interest in maintaining any sort of exceptional appearances with this man, but perhaps at the very least, he does not need to be on the receiving end of your indignation.

Instead, you fantasize about the perfect life you may be able to cultivate upon your arrival. Perhaps there are perks to him being involved in such a solitary way of life; you imagine two sides of the same mansion, one for you, and one for him. The painter and the writer, and never shall they meet.

𝕍𝕀𝕀.

Nighttime falls upon the land before you make your arrival, and late into the evening do you come. 

The estate is seen long before you come upon it, with a handful of lights standing out against the otherwise stark darkness of the countryside surroundings. You recall a mention of the home being relatively lifeless, and so few lights on inside certainly give truth to that. Barren trees line the street and as far as the eye can see given how deeply into winter it still is. There is little snow piled up into little hills along the ground, but it is impossible to see the vastness of the land without proper daylight to guide you.

When you arrive, a handful of house staff are there to greet you. Three women smile and bow, help you out of the carriage and then move along to retrieve your things. One remains with you, and you pull your jacket tighter so as to not allow the frigid air to touch you.

"It is much colder in the countryside than what you are used to," she says gently. "You'll get used to it in due time, but it can be frightening at first."

You glance at her, though not for long. It feels strange to be attended to by staff other than those that you are used to being handled by. This strange woman—older but softer in demeanor—smooths a hand down your arm with little more than a feather-light touch, and then offers you a slight yet understanding smile.

"My name is Mai, I am the head of the housing staff, you'll be seeing me around quite often, so I hope that we can grow comfortable with one another quickly. I understand that this is difficult for you, and strange, so please take your time. There's no rush to become acquainted with myself or the estate grounds."

It's only then that you come to realize the stark lacking of someone else's attendance to your arrival. You glance around slightly, perhaps you have missed him? But there are no men, and so, you ask the question, "What about Mr. Lee?"

Mai's features drop ever so slightly, like she feels some level of sympathy for you. Her hand smooths over your arm again, then gently tugs you towards the large doorway.

"The Master of the house will seldom make himself known, I wouldn't worry too much about that, dear."

"He didn't even come to welcome me, a strange sort of fellow to not bother greeting his wife upon her arrival," you say pointedly. It garners another, particular sort of look from the woman bringing you inside.

"Yes, the Master has been referred to as strange before, this would not be the first time. Please don't take it personally, or as some sort of slight towards you individually. I'm sure that given enough time, the two of you should meet and become acquainted with one another."

You chuckle under your breath, "Husband and wife, acquainted with one another. What have my parents done."

Though your wish upon arriving has ultimately come true, you sift through the confusion in your feelings regarding Minho's disinterest in finding you. The woman that he has taken into his home, agreed to marry, surely expected to have children with—yet with no apparent interest in your being there whatsoever. Stepping inside of the home, it shines and exudes beauty, almost like a museum. Pieces of painted art and statues sit at every inch, as far as the eye can see, but all you can think about is the absence of the man who has beckoned you here.

"I apologize for the darkness of the estate, as you know, it's quite late. I hope that you will take it upon yourself to wander tomorrow during the day. Everything is yours, please make yourself at home." Mai extends a hand forward and towards the large staircase, then points upwards at the centered emptiness created by the winding steps. "At the highest level is the atrium, the only place that is strictly off limits. The Master does most of his work up there, though it's difficult to simply stumble upon, no cause for concern as far as that goes."

Continuing to gaze up at what feels like forever, you slowly bring your attention back down and then fully towards Mai.

"Why has he brought me here?" you ask.

A single corner of her mouth perks, as if contemplating offering a smile that may or may not be apt. Besides that, however, the only expression of feeling you can find amongst her features is that of compassion, and perhaps, maybe even pity.

"As you know, these sorts of things tend to be about maintaining appearances…" Mai trails off, likely on account of having nothing more to add to the fact. It is plenty enough, and indeed, you are very well aware.

"I'd like to be taken to my room now."

There's a hazy numbness that finds your limbs as the staff take your things and begin moving towards the stairs. This is your new life, your new normal for the rest of your life. A loveless existence, a loveless marriage with a man that you will scarcely meet. You wonder, albeit briefly, what you have done to doom your existence to that of such fleeting tenderness. 

Hyunjin did not love you, but he was willing to pretend, and while your body was beneath his, you could so easily believe it.

Minho does not love you, and will not even grant you as much. No willingness to try, no interest in feigning the possibility of as much. You are not so foolish to expect to fall in love with this man, but is it so wrong to wish for moments that offer themselves to the fleeting fantasy of it? Infrequent dinners, shared glances from down the hall, and if all goes well, even a kind of friendship developed amongst incapable lovers.

Your bedroom is stunning and immaculately decorated. Mai informs you that anything that you wish to have added or removed is yours to have, and that she will see to it being done swiftly. The walls are lined in a dark, royal blue and accented at the corners with incredible, gold fillings that make the estate feel more like a castle than a simple home for only one man and his house staff. 

The thought is appreciated, but you truly cannot fathom wanting for more, not in the physical sense of owning and acquiring physical things. The emptiness inside of you is so much heavier and deeper than the shade of the walls, or the perfectly waxed oak of the floors.

"Thank you," you say. The words are small, and sound far more defeated than you would like them to. Mai is heavenly, everything that you could ever want from someone that you're likely to be spending the majority of your time here with. "What time shall I come down for breakfast in the morning?"

Mai smiles in the doorway, her light gray dress swaying with every slight movement that she makes.

"Eight is standard for the house, but whenever you prefer. If you are an early riser, we can see to it that it is ready and waiting for you by the time you find your footing."

You glance at your handbag, manuscript of your writing sticking out by the corner from it and make your decision going forward.

"I am something of an early morning type. I like to write, I find that I do my best work before the rest of the world begins to stir," you say, forcing a small smile into your lips. "I don't require much, especially just for one person. Just some small breads with butter and coffee will suit me just fine."

Mai nods happily, so obviously delighted by your willingness to allow her to do what she does here. "Of course, anything you wish. If you need anything else in the morning, please don't hesitate to inform any of the staff, we want to make your transition here as smooth and seamless as possible."

"Thank you," you say again, and Mai takes her leave.

Sleep does not find you well that night, despite the weariness of your body from the travel. Instead, your mind races with possibility and wonder about the ghost that you now share a home with, and when you finally do find rest, all that is there to greet you now is the dark, faceless silhouette of a man that you may never come to meet.

𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Time at the estate feels as though it crawls, and yet slips away and through your fingers in ways that make it feel as though it doesn't really exist at all.

Another month passes you by, a new routine set into motion not unlike yours from back home. Different settings, different foods offered; scents that arrive to you like they are foreign and fabrics against your skin that feel entirely different from that which you have become accustomed to. Life here is easy, and for that, you are thankful, but the dull ache of listlessness begins to take hold of you faster than you might have anticipated it to, and your curiosities about the manor creep up and make themselves known to you without much of an ability left in you to fight them off.

You have yet to meet Minho, even in all of your time here. A month is not long to spend in one place, but feels like a lifetime to not have met the person that you live with, the man that you are married to and meant to spend the rest of your days alongside.

Writing, at the very least, comes to you with incredible ease while cased inside of these walls. Your manuscript—a sort of anonymous autobiography of your life—grows and grows like it is showered with all of the sunlight and nutrients of a lovingly kept garden. There is nothing else for you to do here, after all.

These routines come to you naturally, not one to stray from those things that come naturally and comfortably to you. In the mornings, you wake early to head downstairs to eat warm, buttered bread and take your cup of coffee; leaving towards the large study that sits looking off into the flowerbeds with a large, never dirtied window to grant you such a view.

Books surround here, as do their smells. You could never hope to read them all, though you might like to. When particularly down about your circumstances, you consider the fact that you have ample time to begin such an endeavor, as nothing else inside of this building will ever bother to ask for time from you.

One day after the mark of a month from your arrival, you stay up a little later than usual and slowly sip an aged, red wine from the shined lip of a glass. Your nighttime gown already drapes from your body, but you have no such intention of finding sleep any time soon.

For one reason or another, the atrium calls to you silently in the ambient darkness of the house.

The house staff is long asleep, nobody lurking the corridors to ensure that the inhabitants are not allowing the whimsy of curiosity to get the best of them. You step out and into the hallway, small candles lining the way and towards the stairs that lead further up, guiding lights beckoning you, asking you to follow them, telling you to take liberties not truly afforded to you.

So you do. Up so many flights, a climb that feels endless at points, until of course, you reach the top. 

Perhaps you had expected too much, built up the possibilities so much in your mind that whatever it is that you might find here never standing a chance in living up to your imagination. There is little that greets you once you climb the last step; no warning signs, no guards or traps set for intruders stumbling upon this place. Instead, you find an incomprehensible mess along the large and wide expanse of floor. Canvases sprawled as far as the eye can see—some still basking in their unmarred perfection, others splashed with color or linework—paint pots and filthy brushes, palettes that appear as though they've never seen the loving touch of water to clean them.

Furthest away from where you stand, you find a table and a single chair, though it would not seem to be used for its intended purpose with the way items have been set against and atop them. There are papers sitting on the wood, however, and your budding curiosity gets the best of you even more as you carefully step forward and over all of the belongings that coat the floor.

The floor beneath you is sturdy, and for that, you are thankful. There are no creaks of footsteps to alert anyone of your presence here, and when you arrive at the table, you find piles upon piles of letters pinned down beneath dirty, likely forgotten jars of water.

The penmanship of one draws your attention, familiar and loud as it stares back at you. It is from your father.

This date is recent, one of the few things that you can make out from where it sits. You care little for maintaining your invisibility here now, and pull the sheet out from within the others so that you can read it in full.

You realize quickly upon scanning it that you did not know what to expect, but what it is that you have found now somehow sits even more strangely in your chest. Your eyebrows furrow as you take in the words from your father—they are nonsensical in every sense of the word—incomprehensible when paired with the realism of your life at this place.

One part reads: I am happy to hear that the two of you are getting along so splendidly. Of course, it is impossible to say when putting together such matters, but I had something of a feeling that it would be right, and I am so blessed to find that this meeting has been a successful one.

He has been lying to your father ever since your arrival here.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Your attention shoots up from the letter, which drops from your hand on account of the shock in being found. What jars you from your thoughts much more than having been caught, however, is not that fact in and of itself. Rather, it is the fact that it is the voice of a man that has questioned you.

And looking up from here, back towards the stairs, the moonlight shines in from the glass ceiling panels of the atrium, down onto the face of a man with somewhat long and relatively unkempt black hair that curtains in front of his eyes delicately. His jaw is strong, sharp; outlining narrow eyes and lips that settle into a somewhat upturned position when not forced into another shape.

Could it be…?

You do not respond right away, and neither does he press you further for a reply. Instead, the man carries himself forward and kneels down in front of a particular pile of painting supplies. Perhaps you hadn't taken careful enough notice of them, the way that the paint is still fresh and wet, now that you look at it.

His shirt is white, sleeves rolled up along his forearms and cuffed carelessly at the bend of his elbow. He appears strong, not at all the dainty, frail image of an artist type that one might typically assume someone like this to be. Somewhere within you swims the possibility that this is not the man that you are married to, merely some other person who also is granted the ability to use the atrium for its assigned purpose, but the thought seems asinine with the evidence presented in front of you.

He grabs a brush, takes a palette into hand and dips the bristles into something dark. One stroke, then another onto a canvas that has already been seen by his hand previously. He ignores you for many long moments, and as a result, you merely stand there in silence and watch as he continues on.

The brush dips into a jar of water, swirled around and faintly clinking against the glass. Then, the man looks up at you again.

"Is there?"

Forgetting that there has ever been a question posed, your mind races to catch up to what it is that he's asking. Nervousness catches your limbs, not knowing what to do with your hands, your feet, the expression on your face when suddenly and finally addressed. 

But you have no interest in answering his inquiry, and instead, pose one of your own.

"Why have you been lying to my father?"

"Ah," he says, the sound quiet and coming out with a knowing exhale. His attention drops back to the canvas and colors in front of him. "Do you make it a habit of reading other people's mail, then?"

"We've not even met once since I moved here, yet you're telling my father that we're getting along swimmingly, why?"

"Are we not?" Minho says, his engagement in the discussion confirmation enough of the fact that this is him. "No arguments, no raised tones or names called. As far as I'm concerned, we're getting along as well as one might hope, all things considered."

"We have never even met!" you nearly yell, dropping your volume at the tail end with the way that you know voice carries through the halls of the estate. This is a discussion meant for the two of you alone. "The least you could do after all of this time is introduce yourself to me, especially if you're going to be lying to my parents about the goings on out here!"

Minho looks up at you then, but his face is empty of feeling. "This is why I thought it best that we not meet, now I have to tell him that things have taken a turn," he says.

His face does not allude to it, but his tone very much does in the way that the faintest hint of amusement can be discerned throughout his words. Hearing such coyness does nothing to calm your growing resentment towards him, if anything, only adding fuel to the budding fire.

"Do you think this is funny?" you ask, anger laden in your voice. "Is that why you brought me out here? For your amusement, so that you could laugh to yourself in the late hours of the night about the woman that you're keeping holed up while I rot away inside of these walls and lament what my life might have been if my father had only allowed me a little more time?"

Stare unwavering, your eyes remain locked onto Minho's once you finish speaking, and he is not quick to reply in any fashion. Silence slips in between the two of you, only the faintest ticking of an old, antique clock stationed off to the side heard between the nothingness growing inside of the atrium.

Then, he sighs.

"I brought you out here because of the nature of our society and the expectation of certain norms therein. You know this as well as I do, what is expected of us by certain ages. Unfortunately for you, both of our time is nearly up and as a result, this is how fate would have it."

He explains it so matter of factly that the entire concept of these arrangements feels strange and foreign to you, despite its familiarity. Minho is right, and what he says to you is true, but it does little to make you feel calm in the matter. He offers you no comfort, no easiness or soft words to sort any pain that you may be feeling as a result of it. Perfunctory in delivery, Minho only gives to you precisely what it is that the two of you already know; nothing more, and nothing less.

You know this, but the dull ache of pain inside of your chest does not wane. It grows instead, so much so that you find yourself losing the ability to maintain disdain for him, or the fact that he brought you here, at all.

"Did you reach out to my father, or did he call out to you?" you ask, voice timid and broken. The details of the arrangement are of little consequence now, but you find yourself questioning it all the same. Perhaps they have only both ended up here by chance, and if so, is that the best possible outcome of all?

Lips thinning straight, it's a sort of forced smile that barely ever comes through, and Minho breaks eye contact once you present the question to him like he is aware that nothing he has to offer you will ever be enough.

The brush handle rattles against the glass once again, the sound sharp and jarring, bothersome to your ears now.

"He reached out to me," Minho says plainly, "and for that, you have my condolences."

𝕀𝕏.

Two weeks go by without so much as a sighting of the man that lives among you. In that time, however, a letter finds you from your mother. Late in the morning on a particularly dreary day, Mai comes to you in your study and hands off the envelope with a gleeful smile, seemingly thrilled to be offering you something instead of your husband.

"I was hoping that they would write to you soon," she says. "The early stages still require much conversing between the Master and your parents, but it's good that they have found the time to reach out to you now, as well."

"Yes, very good," you reply, forcing the sound of pleasantness through the words. You wonder if she knows about your meeting with Minho not so long ago, if she has been informed of your snooping and the knowledge you gained therein. "Thank you, I'll read it quickly."

Mai takes her leave and you are once again left to your things. Your finger slides beneath the flap of the envelope and pulls the seal apart, nimbly releasing the letter inside from its confines. Heart beating rapidly and not knowing what you will find, you attempt to steady your anxiety and land your eyes onto the page.

The words penned across it are happy ones, and that shifts your nerves at a sudden pace. She expresses her joy at all of the things your father has informed her in regards to his constant speaking with Minho; how well things have been going between the two of you, how worried she had been at the possibility of otherwise, and how proud she is of you. The words feel empty and as if they are not meant for you—how could they be? There is no truth held inside of any of it.

Once finished, you slip the letter back inside and tuck it away beneath your manuscript, opting instead to turn your attention towards the garden that awaits you just through the dampened window. Rain lightly pelts it, a calming sound that is very much needed in the aftermath of this reminder. 

Recalling your conversation with Minho in the atrium, you hone in on the specifics of it now. In particular, his stoic interpretation of this combination between the two of you. It was not he who intended to seek you out, and rather, the both of you share the difficulties of age and societal expectations that have been casted upon you at birth. A loveless marriage it is, convenience, even; but circumstances that the both of you are flattened beneath the pressure of.

You had once wished for him to be a man with no interest in you, and that is precisely what you have been graced with. Minho does not care for your presence, does not wish to spend time with you or converse with you in any way that people who share a home tend to do. This is what you had wanted for, so then why now does it feel so rotten to be on the receiving end of it?

A flash of lightning in the far off distance comes to pass, and it is at that moment that you come to your decision: you will make your way to the atrium once more.

𝕏.

Shadows flicker and dance across the darkness of the walls and bookcases lining the crescent shaped sides of the atrium, seen long before you reach the topmost step. There is no sound besides faint rustling, and the occasional, familiar clinking of wooden stick against glass rim.

Minho is there.

You reach the top and find him; on his knees and hunched over not unlike your last meeting in this place. His shoulders and back flex against the tightness of the white blouse that holds him, deceptively firm muscles that you are only now able to see from this angle. He stills briefly, silent acknowledgment of his knowing that you are there, but carries on with his task for a while before bothering to utter a word.

"You shouldn't be up here."

An expected warning, but it does little to deter you. Instead of turning back, you continue forward, towards him, and stop only a few more strides away. Distance given out of the goodness of your heart, and because you accept wrongdoing in ever having come here in the first place.

"Why?" you ask.

With busy hands, Minho remains fast at work, splashing blues, pinks and purples across the white canvas. His features do not twist or contort in any sort of way that one might expect from tortured artists who suffer at the hands of their crafts. Quite the contrary; he appears at ease, calm and collected in this place that is meant only for him and the creations that pour from his skilled fingers.

"For no other reason than it being my working space, and working spaces must be maintained as such." He pauses finally, drops the bush into the water sitting just beside and then looks up at you through messy, loose strands of black hair. "It is no place for conversing, especially if you wish to fight with me like before."

The reluctance in his voice, almost pained in the way that he says it, has your eyebrows pressing together with rather intense confusion. While it is true that you had been far from pleased with the discoveries made the first time you made your way up here, to call it something of a fight feels rather excessive to you, in hindsight.

"I wouldn't say that we fought, can you blame me for feeling the way that I had felt then?"

"Not at all," he admits with ease, "but you shouldn't go through my things, and you shouldn't raise your voice at me in regards to matters that are just as much out of my control as they are your own."

That rubs you wrongly, and your eyes narrow as a result of it. "They are not equally out of our control. You desired a woman to live idly in your home and that is what you received. I desired only the smallest allowance of time in order to get my surroundings back on track, and in the end, what I received was nothing more than being the aforementioned idle woman."

Minho sighs heavily, then turns back to the canvas in front of him. "How many times must I apologize for that? It's not as if I had known when the inquiry was sent to me that you would be so displeased. Is it not enough that I do not force you to engage with me?"

"That's not—"

"I ask nothing of you," Minho continues, a newfound pointedness to his voice. "I do not request your company in any capacity, no expectation of you to entertain me in any way. I do not bother you, I do my best to stay out of your way. Anything you desire, it's yours. Money, gifts, luxury cloths or even the most expensive art pieces from all across the globe…any of it can be yours, should it suit you."

His voice wavers as he reaches the tail end of his words, and the weight of it hangs heavy on your heart. Minho sounds sad, defeated in a battle that he hadn't even bothered to take on. 

Then, he looks up towards you again. 

"If a lover is what you wish to have, you may take one. I understand the difficulty in meeting people so far out in the countryside, but I'll see to it that the staff will accommodate your needs in any way."

Once he finishes, you stand silently just off and to the side of him. Your stares towards one another rest in the balance, you anticipate him saying more, but the words never come.

You frown at him, just slightly.

"What do you know about me?" you ask.

The question seems to take him aback, eyes widening slightly at the suddenness of it being presented towards him. His eyes fall from yours then, cast around the floor between you as if the answers sprawled out somewhere there. Eventually, he accepts his fate, and looks back up towards you.

"I…I don't know. Nothing, I suppose. Not beyond what your father has told me throughout our correspondence."

"My father knows nothing about me, not beyond the perfected image of daughterhood that I am expected to present. You know all about expectations, don't you, Mr. Lee?"

His watching you continues, but no words dare to be uttered by the man.

"Perhaps instead of holing yourself up here your whole life, you come down and do what is expected of you." Turning back towards the stairs that brought you here, you begin your descent down—one, two—and then pause to turn back for your final parting words.

"A man is expected to be seen by his wife, is he not? To talk to her, to know things about her, to learn. More than that, a husband is expected to do all of that, and even more. I refuse to allow you to use my invisible presence here as nothing more than a story that you can tell people while you're away presenting your art pieces. You wanted me here, and so I am. You will have to do better, because I have nothing left to lose, and the humiliation of returning home from a failed marriage is a far cry from the things I have already endured."

Minho does not reply.

𝕏𝕀.

The next morning, just as any other, you maintain your routines.

Exiting your bedroom, your feet pad along the floor one after another—simple slippers that adorn them, keeping your toes warm—the sound of it is one that you have now grown accustomed to, the echo as it carries through the emptiness of the estate.

Thankfully, as you draw nearer to the lowest level and towards the kitchen, the gentle music of other inhabitants fondly make themselves known to you. Scents mix in as well, cinnamon and coffee and vanilla all whirled together in the air that you can't help but find peace amongst it all. When you enter, you are greeted brightly by Mai, as well as the other housekeepers lending their hands to ensure a seamlessly run ship.

You offer your thanks, and head along your way towards the study. The door hangs ajar, just as you always leave it. No concern for whether or not Minho will make his way down and curiosity will get the best of him upon catching sight of your belongings; a man who has made it more than clear that he holds no such fascination in you.

The large seat situated in front of the window awaits you. Today is sunny, the short rain that tells a tale of spring soon to come, having since passed during the nighttime and bringing after its having gone bright skies and pristine white clouds. A good day, a nice day. You sit, opening the drawer inside of the desk and pulling from it the notebook that holds your manuscript. So many years of work, so personal and encompassing everything that makes you. 

With your back towards the door, you only vaguely hear the sounds of Mai's hushed utterance from just within the kitchen. Some exclamation of surprise, though it disappears with the same swiftness that it seems to have caught her. Perhaps a bug, or a misplaced knife settled within the wrong drawer—anything could be the case—and for that very reason, you brush it off and focus instead on the pen and paper before you.

Then, there's a knock at the wood of your door.

"Yes?" you call back out at it, unsure of what the housekeepers could be wanting from you. Your typical routine with them has been more or less concluded, no obvious reason for anyone to be looking for you now. "I've not finished with my first coffee yet, I'll come when I have, you need not wait on me and worry yourselves sick."

"Does the Lady of the house have a moment of her time to spare?"

Before you can so much as fathom it, your body whips around and you nearly wholly twist in your chair to look back at the place that the masculine voice has come.

As if what awaits you there could be anything else, anyone else; Minho stands in the small crack of the doorway, barely enough for him to fit half of his body through. He does not dare attempt it, waiting outside for your word of affirmation. His face is downcast, looking up through eyelashes at you like he is doing something entirely wrong of the both of you. Anticipating being turned away, expecting to be berated for having the gall to make such a brave attempt.

"Y-yes, of course, come in!" you reply, biting back the eagerness in your tone at the end of the sentence. Suddenly, you become painfully aware of the space around you and how unkempt you have allowed it to be. "I apologize, it's something of a mess. I only come in here to do some small tasks to keep myself busy and then I leave so I don't think much of keeping it tidy."

Minho steps inside, though the effort is barely there. Two steps into the room, and then he stops; looks around it like he has never been here before. Eventually, you come to understand that he is not so much looking at the things he keeps and rather, that he is avoiding eyes that belong to you.

"It is yours, you may keep it as you wish," he says. His hands dance between being cradled in front of himself, to similarly behind his back. Forward again, thumbs craned into his pockets, then out and to his sides—strangely, uncomfortably. He does not know what to do with them. "I apologize for intruding on your time like this, I—" he pauses, stops looking around once he realizes he has seen all that there is to see, and then has no other option than to look at you. This action is short lived, however, eyes quickly falling to the wood beneath his feet. "I believe that you were correct last night, in your assessment of me and our arrangement. For that reason, I want to make an effort. I want to…do what is expected of me."

Silence blankets the room, his eyes cast upwards again; "If that's all right, of course."

"Yes, yes of course it's…what I would prefer, I think." Once again, excitement that betrays your unwillingness to give too much, too fast. Even if he weren't looking at you, the glee would be heard in your voice. "At the very least, an effort made to get to know one another on a more personal basis. We may never fall in love, may never become lovers…it's impossible to say if we will ever even become friends, but I think it best for the both of us if there is some level of acquaintanceship here."

Minho nods once, swallowing so hard and through a throat so dry that you swear you can hear it. "Understood. Though I must say, I do…" he trails off in thought, returns to it only moments later, "I still intend to spend the majority of my time in the atrium, for work. I must insist that even with our new arrangement, you do not come up there. I will instead…make myself more common down here, or if you request my presence—not that I suspect you will—please inform Mai, and she will retrieve me."

"I accept these terms, but in the inception of such, it is only fair that I forge those of my own."

Eyes widening in shock, Minho seems surprised by your candor. Though you do not know him well, one thing you are thankful for is his seeming unwillingness to abide by much of the traditional social construct that exists around the expectations of the way that men and women are meant to engage with one another. You speak loudly and brashly with Minho, a man that you barely know, and he accepts as much with grace. When he wishes for you to not engage with him in such ways, he calmly asks it of you, rather than demands it through authoritarian fear.

When you wish to push back, he takes a step backwards of his own in order to grant you the space to do so.

"That indeed is fair," Minho agrees, a barely-there smile curving into the corners of his lips. "What does the Lady seek?"

"We have a meal together, most days. Breakfast or dinner, it is of no particular consequence to me. I do not know if you prefer the morning or evening hours, but based on your artistic habits and the dark circling beneath your eyes currently, one can only assume that breakfast is out of the question."

Your own smile perks up, and along with it, Minho's widens. He turns his head, looks over in an attempt to find the nearest reflective surface. Only a silver vase, his face coming out all wobbly and distorted as he looks at himself against it. The truth of your words is still found, however.

"I accept," he says. "Dinner. Let's have dinner together tonight."

You grant him a nod, and he cumbersomely turns towards the door to take his leave.

"One more thing," he adds, paused perfectly within the doorframe but choosing not to look back at you. "Perhaps we should…prepare for the conversations that will be had. It would be awfully unfortunate to waste our time together among the dead of an otherwise quiet night."

Charmed in all of the most fascinating and incomprehensible ways, you see straight through the veil that Minho has attempted to hold up. A million questions run through your mind already; regarding him, this estate, his work, where he has been, and you cannot fathom the possibility of him not experiencing the same. Rather, the second likelihood swims within your thoughts, humorously intriguing, and serving as the catalyst for your ability to begin putting the pieces of him together into something far more recognizable.

Lee Minho is reserved. Locked away in the countryside and borderline cripplingly timid in the face of anything new and not easily understood—made sense by the dabbing of colored paints onto a canvas, dragged and splotched into something that his eye can really and truly see.

Later that evening, Mai and her staff spend far more time and effort preparing a meal than is truly necessary. You worry to yourself slightly watching the lot of them hustle about—there are only two of you, after all—but Mai insists each and every time that she finds the concern spread across your features that she is actually quite thrilled to be doing something such as this for once.

"The Master does not have company often, and for that reason, does not frequently take a proper meal in the evenings," she says, delight dripping from her voice.

Comically to you, however, is the fact that Minho is here and seated at the table across from you already; spoken about as if he is not even in the room. You look him over when Mai admits as much and his features pan, somewhat pained by the truth of it all, you suppose.

"I'm busy in the evenings, more often than not, you are well aware of this, Mai."

"That's no reason not to allow us to have some fun in this kitchen." Her fists ball up at the tops of her hips, and then a handful of other staff begin making their way over to set dishes atop the table.

"You shouldn't say it like I don't permit you to do so," Minho says. He glances up at you briefly, as if to gauge how you're taking all of this. Worried you might think him to be an evil ruler of the manor. "You can, it's just—"

"Wasteful!" Mai finishes with a knowing nod, and then disappears from your side of the table altogether. Her next words are spoken from quite a ways away, down the hall and out of the dining area. "Enjoy your meal! Call for us if you need anything!" she says.

And then the room is silent.

The smells of roasted chicken and glazed vegetables quickly beckon your attention. Buttered dinner rolls in wicker baskets and already poured glasses of wine await each of you. The serving of food has already been completed, your plate piled high with items that drown in delicious looking gravy and topped with garnishes. 

You reach towards your wine glass, and make short eye contact with Minho along the way.

He clears his throat, shuffles uncomfortably in his seat after it, and then picks up his eating utensils.

"Some men," he starts, then waits, like he isn't sure that it's so much of a good idea, "some men can be strange about the types of food, or the amount, that their wives eat."

You continue staring at him, because what is the point of this?

Minho reaches for his glass, takes a large sip from it. "Uhh, I'm not like those men, so please, have your fill."

"Are you informing me that I am permitted to not go hungry for appearances?" you ask flatly.

"I—" he begins, short and cut off, not sure where to go from here. "Yes, I suppose that I am. I just wanted to be clear, in case there was cause for concern."

"With all due respect," you say through a light chuckle, "we're in the middle of nowhere, and I've not left the estate since I came. Who am I really intending to impress?"

Minho does not respond to that. He seems to be willing to relent to the conversation at just about any turn, which amuses and also confuses you. Watching him, he cuts into a piece of potato and carefully puts the chunk between slightly crooked, off kilter front teeth. Sort of charming, one of those quirks about a person's appearance that grows on you over time.

He looks up at you suddenly, then takes another sip of the wine.

"What do you do here? How do you spend your days?"

That is unexpected, though you can't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it is the brashness of finally asking something so quizzical, so personal; a true attempt at learning something about you in a way not before seen or expressed by him. You do not answer right away, nor does he press further. Only the scraping of silverware against fine porcelain is heard throughout the space for entirely too long.

Might he think you strange for your habits? Is he someone safe to tell?

It's worth the chance, and you will yourself to be unbothered by any negative reaction that he may have.

"I…um, I'm writing a book," you say, steadying the tremble that punctures the words, "I do a lot of writing. In the mornings I wake up early, have my breakfast, and then I write in the study by the garden."

You remain nervous about Minho's reaction, but for no discernible reason you come to find. His eyebrows perk up, attention rapt by what it is that you've said. "A book? That's quite impressive, how long have you been working on it?"

"Oh, many years." Stumbling through the strangeness of his sudden exhilaration, you attempt to maintain your composure. "It is something of a memoir, so I have been collecting moments of my life for as long as I can remember."

Minho shakes his head, evidently stunned by such a possibility. "Writing is such a magnificent craft, everyday I wish that the gift of language and written word is the one that had come to find my hands."

"Painting is an incredible art, so few people are creatively capable of mastering the concepts of color or line like you have. Anyone literate can write a sentence."

Minho looks up and the two of you meet glances. It is a moment shared between people who have a newfound understanding amongst one another, and as a result, it feels special; magical. He smiles slightly, and you can't help but match it, too.

"Well, anyone can scribble color onto a canvas, but I think we both know well enough that there is much more that goes into the arts than that," Minho says, a newfound casualness that you feel as though you have only just unlocked to his tone. "Are you looking to publish someday?"

"I think I might like to, if the opportunity were to arise." You stop, reconsider the content therein, and correct for that. "Anonymously, or under a penname. Not my own."

He nods in acceptance of that, then takes another bite of food with his vision cast down towards the plate. In times like this, Minho reminds you of a small child, poorly socialized and unsure of how to move about the world with other people in it. He tries his best, has only the best of intentions, but it never quite feels as though it's enough.

Little by little, you're peeling through those layers. All things considered, so far, the journey isn't half bad.

"I'm pleased that we've decided to do this," Minho says, focused solely on pushing the broccoli around on his plate idly. "Spend time together, I mean. Getting to know one another."

Thus far, perhaps there is a part of you that cannot help but agree.

𝕏𝕀𝕀.

New routines unearth themselves throughout the estate.

Spring washes over the land in waves; flowers in their fullest blossom, live with color and birds that joyously scour the land for new perches to rest their tired wings atop. The trees fill in once more with lush greens and fruits that begin to fill in along the firm branches.

Minho makes himself more often seen throughout the manor corridors, though often brief and insistent on his having some other place to be. You learn not to take it to heart—his insistence in giving himself an out of the conversation—as it would seem that conversation with others is not a skill that comes naturally to him.

Still, you appreciate the effort. Some mornings, Minho slinks down the stairway and into the kitchen, long before his usual rising hours, and asks you about the agenda for your day. You often do not have much to offer him, but Minho watches on as you fill him in with his chin cradled in his hands and eyes that sparkle under the barely breaking dawn that washes in from the windows. He always smiles; somewhat crooked, with one side pulling ever so slightly higher than the other. It isn't a lot, but for now, it will do.

The month is April, and out of the study window you find Minho tending to the garden.

The outside grounds are not well traveled by you, partially on account of arriving to the countryside in the dead of winter. Now that the breezes have warmed and the snow has melted, it's as fine a time as any, and you carry yourself off towards the side door in the kitchen to take your first few steps into the garden that you have adoringly watched all of these months.

"Decided not to keep yourself cooped up in there, did you?" Minho asks playfully, only briefly glancing up towards you from his bent and knelt position in the turned soil. His hands are dirty—no gloves to be seen—but his forearms flex and pulse with strength as he rips at weeds and digs his holes. "People are going to start to think I don't permit you to leave."

"People? What people?" you reply. "Even my own parents have grown bored of writing to me. I don't think you live in any fear of what the people might think. Perhaps they assume that we are wildly happy together, no interest in sharing that with the rest of the unworthy world."

"Aren't we?" Minho says, chuckling lightly. 

You make an effort to ignore the question, as well as the way his muscles all appear taut and well attended to beneath his moistened white shirt. Minho is a good looking man, in ways that are a little surprising to you and even in spite of his lack of social character, but even as your husband, he is a stranger. A man that you now live with because it is nothing more than convenient for the both of you, not someone to be lusted after.

Hyunjin comes to mind suddenly. Every time you find yourself missing the touch of a man, it's him that torments you still.

"Of course." You make an effort to ignore the thoughts, and change the subject. "I didn't know you had an interest in gardening. Perhaps I wrongfully assumed it to be something kept up with by the staff."

"Wrong indeed," he says, wiping at his forehead with the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. His skin glistens under the spring sunlight, hair collecting the moisture of his face within its strands. 

You are only lusting after him in this way because you wish to be touched by a man again, you barely even know him, you reason. Some reason.

"It's something I picked up a good many years back, when I was shoved deeply into the success of my career. I spent even more time locked away with my work and my paintings, if you could even believe it," Minho says, smiling at himself at the memory of it all. "So, I had to find a reason to get out of the house. Not too far, or for too long, but something. Additionally, I enjoy the act of creation…" he pauses, picks up a small vegetable bulb and holds it up for you to look at. "What's more creative than life?"

You smile, wide and with teeth in a way that you don't remember having done in such a long, long time. Minho laughs at your reaction, and then carries on burying the plant into the ground as originally intended.

"You like to play God in the garden, then?" 

"I wouldn't say that."

"What would you say?"

Minho looks up, a surprisingly thoughtful expression etched into his features, as if really, genuinely giving the question an ample amount of thought. "I would say that I like to create!"

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Minho continues on with his task. You cock your head to the side, watching him quietly as he moves as if an incredibly bizarre exchange hasn't just taken place. The truth of the matter, you know without so much as even having to ask, is that the discussion is more than likely not strange to him, at all. A perfectly fine chat, nothing out of the ordinary.

Naturally, in the midst of moments like these is when Minho seems most at ease.

"You're a bit odd, Mr. Lee," you say. Calmness is heavy in your tone, marking down the potential distaste that might otherwise accompany such words. "Do you often hear that?"

"Yes, but my oddities and eccentricities are what make the mind tick, the art work and come to life. If I were anything other than myself, who knows what may come of it. I'd rather not find out. Oh, that reminds me—"

Setting his tools down and wiping his hands uselessly on his brown trousers, Minho pauses all of his toiling about to give you his full attention for the words that he is intending for you. His face appears somewhat disappointed, but there's something else mixing within the emotions that you might easily name that you can't quite pinpoint.

"At the beginning of the summer, around June or so, I will leave you to carry on with a showing. I will be gone until autumn time, perhaps November…it will be cold again when I return."

Your stomach drops, and that feeling shocks you.

"Of course, the estate is yours to do as you see fit, and you may leave it as frequently as you wish, too. All of the staff will be yours. It is all yours."

Your lips thin into a frown, and as it would seem, the reaction surprises Minho. He looks up at you in confusion, and perhaps quickly works through the thoughts by himself, because his eyes dip down and away from you, unable to share his gaze with your own with how displeased you appear.

"I'm going to be alone here…for months…"

"Well, you won't be alone…" he says quietly, offering nothing.

"We've finally begun the process of getting to know one another in a meaningful way, and now you're leaving until autumn…it'll be as though we're strangers all over again when you return."

"Surely it won't be that bad…" Minho forces himself to give you answers, but none of them quell the feeling that presses against your chest. "I'll return before you even notice I'm away. For a long time upon your arrival, it was as if I wasn't here at all."

"And I hated it!" you reply quickly, brashly. The words come out loud and honest in a way that you have not intended. Your eyes sit wide on your face, and finally, Minho slowly looks up at you again with eyes not unlike your own.

Neither of you speak for a long while, until Minho sighs and has no other option but to do so himself.

"I apologize, I…did not anticipate that you would feel this way about it, but nevertheless, there is nothing that I can do. This is a part of my work, I often must leave to do such things. The year after this one will be no different, and if it is, then the futility of fame and the fickleness of the human intrigue has finally caught up to me." He quiets again, continues trying to wipe the dirt caked onto the skin of his hands off and onto his pants uselessly. A pointless endeavor. It feels not unlike wanting to be loved. 

"I can…try to come home sooner, at the tail end of things. Sometimes it wraps up earlier than anticipated," he says, looking away from your disappointed eyes. "I've not bothered to rush home before, with nothing waiting for me. Not to imply that you are…waiting for my return…"

"I would like that," you say, simply put. "Suppose then we should make an effort to make these last two months together count, yes?"

Minho doesn't look up at you, too socially strangled to do so. It's not necessary, however, because the small perk at the corner of his mouth as a result of what you have proposed says plenty.

𝕏𝕀𝕀𝕀.

"Another lovely dinner, thank you, Mai."

She nods to Minho kindly, accepting the compliment, and then finishes up her small cleaning tasks to head out and away from the dining area. You look out and across the living room at the large window that leads into the garden—not unlike your study—and bask in the way that the moonlight shines down onto the glistening, wet leaves and petals that have since come to bloom.

"Have you been out yet? In the evening, I mean." Minho turns to you when he says it, notices where it is that you've been looking, but you shake your head.

"No, too busy with my writing, I suppose."

"You'll find an excuse forever if you allow yourself to, come on, let's go."

Minho doesn't touch you, but he waves his hand towards you and then back into the direction of the side door that leads into the garden. You follow along without much argument, wanting just as much to see what the grounds have to offer you, and perhaps now is as good of a time as any.

The nighttime breeze is cold, and you are not at all dressed to be traversing it with only a thin shawl draped over your shoulders. Immediately upon stepping down and onto the cobblestone pathway your arms fly up to cradle yourself, attempting to hug back the warmth that escapes. Minho seems far less bothered by the pricking of cold against his skin. He is never dressed in anything special or extravagant for as long as you have known him; a plain, white button down shirt with brown, fitted pants suited for not much more than becoming dirty without a care. 

Regardless, you push through. It is not often that the two of you partake in anything other than a dinner, or a coffee together. Two people so wrapped up in their own things that they nearly forget about the existence of the other. You make an effort—Minho is getting better over the weeks—but only so many hours in a day.

The two of you slip around the gray, brick corner of the home; grand in its stature. As far as the eye can see sit beds of flowers, ornate bushes, and the shining droplets of rain from earlier in the day that still collect on each. It's a beautiful sight, the way that they twinkle, and when Minho turns to look back at you, a rare and wide smile pulls at his face.

And then it falls.

"Are you cold?" he asks, concerned and rushing towards you instead. "You should have said something, only now do I realize that you're not dressed for the evening breeze."

"I'm fine, really," you insist, something of a lie with the way that you tremble. He must not be thinking clearly, too wrapped up in the sight before him to thoroughly consider all of his options. Minho reaches for you, presses smooth, warm palms to your arms and runs down them carefully before grasping gently at your wrists and pulling your body against his. He wraps his arms around you—he is firm, both in body and embrace—and he smells like the strangest combination of paint and cinnamon.

Indeed, you are warmer now.

You are not unfamiliar with the touch of a man, and it is not that in particular that dredges up the nervousness in your stomach. Rather, you have never shared a touch with this man, and this man is the one that you live with, are married to. You wonder if it is only natural to have considered the possibility of wanting him; handsome, smart, kind, who wouldn't at the very least enjoy the fantasy of such a thing.

But never to touch.

Minho's hands, surprisingly strong and confident, inch down your back to pool at the small of it as distance is created between the both of your bodies. You crave the kind of intimacy that being like this gives you, but still it feels wrong when it comes from him. Accepting this arrangement as nothing more than a marriage of convenience cements certain ideas for the remainder of your time with this man, and one of those, unwaveringly, is that love and love making will be strictly absent from it.

Yet you enjoy the way that he touches you now.

In the dark of night, and just outside of the manor, Minho pulls back from you slowly and it's like this that you are finally able to see him up close, the tiny, charming intricacies of his face otherwise missed due to proximity. A small freckle on his nose, the ever so slight crookedness to his front teeth that—while you have noticed—are so much more handsome and real like this.

His eyes sparkle looking at you, and there's a pause before anything more happens. In your mind, you beg. Loudly asking for that which you seek, no matter the outcome. You can deal with that when it comes, and perhaps you don't even know precisely what it is that you desire from him now. Still, you beg; please, please, please…

Minho's eyes fixate on yours, and then drop down, down, to where your lips sit. His own part, as if with intention to speak, or a desire to taste, one you prefer far more than the other. He does neither, however, finds eye contact once more, but his fingers grasping harder into the loose fabric sitting at the small of your back sends chills down your spine in a way that the meeting of your lips might not even manage.

Do you want, Lee Minho? Do you crave, as well?

"We should go inside," he says, a whisper that shakes. His gaze finds itself fixated down towards your lips again, and all concern aside, you want in that moment for him to have you. "You're not dressed to be out here, you'll catch a cold."

If Minho has ever desired you, even for a moment prior to this, never has he shown so much as an inkling of it. Now, he stands unraveled, pulled apart and bare for you to see. You wonder if he aches, you cannot help but wonder whether or not the need will be sated.

"Yes, let us do that," you answer, but only because you should. No part of you wishes to find warmth within the walls of the estate. 

The following weeks bring a sort of comfortable bliss to the previously cold, ominous interior of the home. One morning, however, that all changes.

Early mornings are warmer now than they once were, each passing day cutting through the chilly breeze. The grounds come to live in lush greens and colorful petals; you've even begun taking trips out of the countryside and into the nearest, small town. It has little to offer besides functional necessity, but leaving the estate is a breath of fresh air that rejuvenates your senses.

You hope to make that journey today, but first, there is work that must be done.

The manuscript is coming along, words filling each page like they've always meant to be there. With your coffee in hand, you make your way towards the study that keeps your things like an untended vault. Secrets hide inside, but no one dares to seek them out—or so you thought.

You push the door open, and what you find is nearly enough to drop the cup from your hands and to the floor completely. Your heart stops similarly instead, and for a brief moment, you cannot believe your eyes.

Minho looks up at you from inside, standing by the desk from which you often work. In his hands sit all of your deepest, innermost secrets. Things you wish not to share with him now, perhaps ever, but the look on his face is one of someone who now understands everything.

He is difficult to read from here, his feelings incomprehensible from just what his features have presented as the two of your eyes meet.

You rush inside, though the damage is done, you know. "What are you doing?" you ask, making little effort to mask your feelings on this matter. Once you reach him, you snatch the pages from his hands and shove them back inside of the drawer from which he got them. "That's not yours to read!"

He does not respond right away, and instead, the room fills with a heavy silence. Minho's hands drop slowly to his sides as he watches you, lips pulled thinly across his face. He appears neither angry, nor sad. He has the appearance of nothing, at all.

"I only wanted to understand you better, get to know you more than what we already have, I thought…" he trails off, eyes falling away from yours, "I thought this to be the best way, suppose I was not mistaken."

You don't dare make an attempt to find his gaze, not looking at one another. It's better like this. Anger bubbles up inside of you, as well as the humiliation of everything that has led you to this point, to this place with him. "So, now you know. Now you know everything."

"I don't…" Minho starts again in response, once again there are words that he cannot seem to find with the same sort of urgency that he needs them. "If it is some concern about my feelings on the matter, I'm unbothered by what you've done, by your history."

"And why should you care?" you ask, the words coming out biting and spit like a kind of venom. "We are not involved in this partnership in any typical sense of the word. This is a marriage of convenience, and convenient it shall remain." It feels bad when spoken, as if betraying your own self-interest. What you feel it to be instead is the most logical course of action given the circumstances; neither serving you nor your heart as far as any potential, budding relationship between the two of you is concerned.

Minho's eyes dart up at that and find your own, but you continue on. "A wife for show, am I not? And for show I will continue to be. No one else knows, you will never experience the same sort of humiliation as I have, if that is your concern."

"It's not." His face twists at the words you've said to him. "That couldn't be the furthest thing from my concern. Do I come off as someone who loses sleep over the opinions of people?"

There's more fight in his voice now, something you're not used to hearing from him. It rattles you, but only slightly, because you are not frightened of him or what he may do. Rather, it serves as a sort of reminder of just how little you appear to understand about him. Most men, most husbands, in these situations would be livid, and demanding of the dissolution of a partnership from which has been built upon deception. This, however, would seem to be far from Minho's interest.

"I would be dishonest if I said that I didn't wish you had told me, of course I do, but I am reasonable enough to understand why you have not," Minho says. "You have lived a whole life before ever having met me, your path leading you elsewhere. That is neither my business, nor my concern. My concern is…"

He does not complete the thought and instead turns away from you once more. Minho makes his way towards the door of the study, but gives pause just before making his exit.

"I am to leave in a week's time, perhaps the space will do us well, after all."

The reminder of all of the time that you will spend by yourself hangs grossly dense inside of your heart. Everything about this feels so wrong, not as it was meant to ever be. Birthed from some incomprehensible place is the desire to beg him to stay, to not leave you here alone despite knowing that he cannot. So much progress has been made between the two of you, only to be spoiled by this; left to fester for the summer months, and you cannot fathom a scenario in which he returns having missed you now.

𝕏𝕀𝕍.

When Minho leaves for his trip, you do not bid him farewell.

Instead, you watch from the window of your bedroom as bags and canvases are piled into the carriage. Minho, Mai and the rest of the staff all smile and say their goodbyes—you can't help but wonder if he wishes you were there alongside them.

It is unimportant. What must be done carries on regardless, and Minho sits himself inside, the carriage pulls away, and down the pathway he eventually disappears; not to return until the leaves on the trees begin to color and fall away with the soon to be onset of winter air once more.

You wonder if you will miss him, only time will tell.

The passing months bore you, and offer you little to placate your wandering mind.

Summer is in full swing, it comes and works its way to closing before you have much of a moment to enjoy it. You make many trips into town to partake in the fresh bakeries and even engage with the folk who enjoy their lives there. They seem happy, you can't help but wonder what that must be like.

Though the manor had been lonely upon your first arrival, there is a stark difference between then, and now. The knowledge that Minho was there—somewhere—within the halls somehow serving as just enough of a comfort to take the edge off of the blanketing nothingness, now gone; and worse than that, you do not know what awaits you when he will return.

Mai offers you kindness, and that is appreciated, but her dedication to her job makes it so that the line towards friendship never truly becomes crossed. You have not seen your parents, and they do not write to you as often as you might like them to. Tzuyu has sent a letter or two, but they are as infrequent as the others, as she is busy with the courtship process herself after the announcement from the prince.

Seven days into September, there is a knock at the door.

Sitting in the vast living room area, surrounded by old paintings, books and other such decorations, the sun begins to set on the home and the summer heat finally starts to wane. The book in hand—one Minho had recommended before his departure—is one that tells the tale of an old painter who traveled all around the world, and gifted a canvas of his art to every person that he met along the way. You wonder if this is the life that Minho wishes for, you wonder if eventually, you will be left behind for good as nothing more than another collectible that he has accumulated inside of the estate.

"Miss…" 

Mai comes up from behind, wringing her hands strangely, unlike anything you've ever seen from her before. Nervous. "You have a visitor."

"I do?" you question, reeling. You are not expecting anyone. "Who is it?"

"I think it might be best if you come quickly."

She has never appeared so concerned to you, and thus, you make haste to follow her and trust her word. The strides past the kitchen and through the small hallway are quick and long, there's a kind of worry bubbling up inside of you. All of the worst potential things begin to muddle your mind; what if your parents have passed away and someone has come to deliver the news in person? 

But turning into the foyer puts a different kind of nail into a different kind of coffin.

Three men stand in the doorway, one on each side of the person intended to be the centerpiece of their arrival. A simple, loose black shirt draping over broad shoulders and a thin, lithe torso, cinched at the waist and carelessly tucked into the matching black trousers there.

He nearly gives the appearance of someone normal, everyday. Just a spot above Minho's own, usual look. Fascinating, the way your mind instantly moves to compare the two.

"Hello, darling," Hyunjin says. Then, he turns to his guards. "You may go."

You feel Mai's eyes on you, and quickly turn to acknowledge them. "Please, leave us."

She nods, and you can only imagine the questions running through her head. You have not a clue how you intend on ever addressing them in the future, but there are many things that you do not understand yet in front of you.

"Your Highness," you say, and then begin to take your bow. Hyunjin steps forward with a gentle scoff, and quickly waves the display away, instead setting his hand atop your shoulder as he moves past you and into the direction from which you came. 

"That's not necessary, let us leave the theatrics of royalty for the streets, where the people might see them, shall we? I think we are a long way away from requiring that between us."

And so you do. The two of you make your way back into the common area of the downstairs and each take an end of the lengthiest couch. Hyunjin sits leaned forward, hands clasped together and resting against his knees. His hair is still long and dark, you thought he might cut it to relinquish such a boyish, juvenile look, but you find that has not been the case.

"I must admit," he begins through a sigh, "I was a bit taken aback when I heard who it was that you ended up being married off to."

"Yes, well, suppose I experienced much of the same when it came to you," you reply curtly.

To that, Hyunjin smiles slightly and stares down at the floor between his feet.

"Fair play. Unfortunately, there are certain expectations…"

"Was everything a lie? Did you never have any intention of marrying me? Did you never love me? If there are expectations then surely you knew when we began our private affairs what could come of it all, so why…"

"It's not so simple," Hyunjin says slowly, turning to look at you now. "My parents have the majority of say in who gets chosen. How lovely it would be if falling in love were enough."

You look at him, but frown. The possibility that the choice be wholly out of his hands is not one that had ever crossed your mind, too busy cursing him for a choice that may have never been his to begin with. Your eyes rake over him, his face; and perhaps there is something of a sadness behind his eyes if you dare to give him the grace of seeing it.

"Where is Sana?"

To this question, Hyunjin sits back with a heavy, loud exhale. "At home, perhaps shopping with her friends as she tends to do. Where is Mr. Lee?"

"Away for work, until the end of autumn."

"It must be lonely, being cooped up here in the countryside alone for so long."

"I…" you hesitate, unsure of how much of yourself you wish to indulge in a man who has already hurt you so gravely in the past. "I make do."

Looking towards you again, Hyunjin's gaze is heavy and narrow, full of a silent contemplation that he has not yet shared with you. Talking to someone that you know so well feels comforting, welcomed. You feel at home. He is disarming.

"Does he suit you?" Hyunjin asks.

You hadn't thought about it in such simplistic terms before. Does Minho suit you? you question yourself in your mind again.

And then you give one, single nod. "He suits me enough, I suppose. Our partnership is a bit…unorthodox perhaps, but we find joy in each other's company."

His eyebrow perks up at that, catching the hint of something unspoken hidden between the words.

"Is that so? A loveless marriage then?"

You scoff, shifting uncomfortably in your seat at the mere mention of it, regardless of how much truth there may be in the statement. "I think loveless makes it seem so much more harsh than it is. I believe we have begun to care for one another in some fashion, over the months. We talk, we have meals together—"

"But he doesn't make love to you."

Stilling your awkward movements, you slowly turn to look up and meet Hyunjin's curious gaze once more.

"No. We've not…reached that point in our relationship, if we ever do." Your eyes fall away. "Surely you are familiar with marriages of convenience, and that very much is ours. We are both at peace with it. Minho is kind, he is accepting of my interests and allows me to do as I please in order to maintain a sense of self, I couldn't ask for more."

As if taking your words as an invitation, Hyunjin slowly begins making his way down the length of the empty couch and towards you. A wry smile tugs at his lips, and though the better part of you knows better than to entertain the possibility of whatever it is that this man may have to offer you, there does still remain the wicked loneliness of a woman who misses—craves—the adoring, wanting touch of a man who desires her.

You tell yourself to create more space between your bodies as Hyunjin comes near, to stand to your feet, to ask him to leave. You are not frightened of him, not an ounce of concern laden in you that he may wish to take something that you are unwilling to give him; no, the horror lies within the fact that you very much do wish to give to him.

Hyunjin's hand finds your leg. The touch is light, tentative and testing. You do not pull away.

"That is no way to live the rest of your days, my love."

It should be harder, you imagine, to give in to his whims. The consideration should weigh heavier on your chest, not handed over so easily once his lips find the skin of your neck, and shortly thereafter, your own. Hyunjin's hands smooth up your legs and beneath your dress, laid back against the sofa. He hovers over you with long, black hair that curtains the both of you inside of this moment. Unsure whether or not it is right, or wrong. For him, the answer is a simple one, but suppose these sorts of things are commonplace among men of a royal standing; after all, who exists to cast down judgment upon them?

His touch is electric against your skin, even more so with the first, slow press of himself into you. You gasp at the feeling. Indeed, you have missed this more than even you had known.

Still, you think of Minho.

When Hyunjin takes his leave once more and bids you farewell, new thoughts and feelings run rampant through your mind as you smile and wave down the cobblestone walkway. Perhaps there had been a kind of truth in his words—that this is no way to live forever—but you cannot fathom any other way, either.

Falling into Hyunjin's touch is easy because it is one that is so familiar. The same motions repeated time and time again and to a kind of perfection, however; something is missing, something that you cannot quite put your finger on.

𝕏𝕍.

The weeks continue to draw on, as does the day of Minho's return in November.

Leaves begin to change their colors, falling away from the branches that they once called their home. The flowers litter the ground, browning and dying to spring anew in the following year. It reminds you of your first arrival upon this place, though snow covered the land then. Not yet has it fallen for the first time this season, but soon it shall.

You keep busy, trying to put out of your mind the happenings in his absence. It is of little consequence to you what has happened in Hyunjin's brief visit, and perhaps the worst part of your soul considers it a kind of unearned payback towards a friend who had taken everything you had hoped for from you. It is unfair, not the kind of person you wish to be, and you put the thought to bed just as quickly as it comes to you. You do not expect to see him again, and in kind, you decide to never delve in such foolish and unbecoming behaviors regarding him even in the event that you do.

Written off as closure, there is some semblance of peace therein. 

On the day of Minho's return, the house is alive. The keepers of the manor all rushing around to ensure that everything is precisely as it should be for the moment that he steps inside; it fascinates you to watch them, knowing full well that Minho is not the sort of man to be bothered by the occasional, misplaced item or a spec of dust left upon the mantle. Of course, this is their job, and they take it upon themselves to make sure that it is done to the best of their ability. You wait just inside the foyer as good wives do when his carriage pulls up, and the quick, anxious beating of your heart comes to be a far more unexpected guest than the man of the hour is.

The doors open and he enters. Two other men are with him and aiding with his belongings, a sight that reminds you of Hyunjin's visit, and you are none pleased by that fact. Minho is dressed differently than you are used to seeing him; far more put together, and with a heavy coat sitting atop his shoulders. Hair less unkempt, it makes you wonder if someone had their hand at his appearance before he left to begin his journey.

He greets the staff first, those that arrived with him handing off his things, and then, he turns his sights towards you.

"Welcome home," you say, fighting back the shake of your voice. "Was it a good trip?"

"It was, but long. Too long for my liking," he admits with a smile. "I'm happy to be home, and not looking forward to having to do much of the same next year, but we'll take it as it comes."

The two of you step towards one another, and to your surprise, Minho takes your hand into his.

"How have things been while I've been away? Hopefully not too dull."

His eyes are gentle as he looks at you, and there is a part of you that wonders if he even recalls the events that took place only just before his embarking. If he does, he shows no signs of it; only a captivating adoration for you.

"Things have been fine…good," you say with a nod, eyes forcing themselves away from his own. Your nervousness and secrets catching up to you, making themselves known within the room. "The days passed as they do, I took many trips into the small town down the way, worked on my book…you've not missed much along the way."

You can feel Mai's eyes on you as you tell the half-truth, and for that reason, you continue on. Perhaps a wild assumption that you would be able to keep this large a secret strictly under lock and key.

Squeezing his hand lightly, you smile ever so slightly at him and say, "We should talk, there are some things. It would be best that way, once you're settled in."

"Of course, I only need a short while. A rinse off and a change of clothes from being cooped up in travel for so long, and then I'm all yours."

Pulling his hand away to attend to his things, you wish deeply to hold on tight—afraid that this may be the last time Minho ever offers you such a genuine, cherished moment.

Later into the afternoon, the changing colors of the sky can be seen through the windows. Hues of blues, purples and oranges that decorate it so beautifully, informing all of those who can see it that the sun is soon to take its rest along the horizon.

You stand in the kitchen, a bowl of fruits sitting before you. Apples, cranberries and persimmons give off their assortment of shades to choose from when Minho quietly makes his way inside.

Eyes meet, and smiles follow after.

Minho's hair is damp from water, strewn about his head and face, entirely uncared for in appearance. He is back in his usual attire; pants with paint stains that not even Mai has managed to defeat, but that function perfectly well as far as he is concerned, you reckon.

Leaning against the counter beside you, he pops a cranberry into his mouth and then cocks his head to the side inquisitively. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Moments like this make it so much harder. You'd not wanted to disclose this to him in any case, but have since decided it better to do so. The guilt weighs so heavily on your chest—has ever since the day—and you wonder if it is selfish to put that onto a man who does not need to carry the burden. Minho is your husband, yes, but in title and legality alone. He has given you permission to carry on as you please, explicit permission to take a lover if that is what you so wish to do; so why is it that having done so feels so regrettable?

This is not a situation that you have ever found yourself to be in before, and thus, you do not know how best to navigate it. You are not one to mince words, however, and so you make the choice to simply come out with it.

"While you were away, Hyunjin was here."

Minho's chewing slows, all softness in his face melting away once the words finally come together as something that he understands the meanings of. "Here? He came here?"

"Yes, to see me."

"He came here…to see you…" Minho says slowly, thoughtfully. "If he knew to come here, then surely he must know that you've been married." He pauses briefly, thinks it through just a bit more before continuing. "As has he."

You nod affirmatively and then say, "Yes, all of this is true. He wanted to see me…I think…there was something of unfinished business between the two of us, as you know with the way that things turned out. It was a brief encounter, he was not here long. I do not think we will meet again in the future."

Minho looks at you tentatively, and you can nearly see all of the questions that beg to be asked swimming around behind his eyes. Surely, he fights back the urge to do so with all of his might for your sake alone, and instead chooses to stomach the brunt of this knowledge by himself, no matter how much discomfort it may bring.

But you do not escape them all.

"You say the encounter was…brief," he starts, though his eyes are unable to meet your own as he presses forward with what he must know. "I have little interest in prying into your personal affairs, I understand what this is—between us—just as well as you do, but I must know; did you—"

"Yes."

Rather than making him say it, you put an end to the entire thing abruptly. Minho blinks through the acceptance of it, a little awe struck, you can tell. He gives two, small nods and then swallows down hard.

"Thank you for telling me," he says. His voice is level, but you can tell as well as anyone else might that it is a facade. Minho turns towards the hallway and says, "If you don't mind, I have work to attend to. Have a good evening."

He does not appear outwardly angry or upset in the ways that you are used to men expressing such emotions, and thus, you are unsure of what to make from all of this. You watch him take two, three steps towards his exit before you rush around the corner of the marble counter and towards him. A hand reaches out towards his arm, but you do not dare make contact—unsure of what may happen if you do. Minho does not scare you, nor has he ever shown aggression, or violence towards you, but you must at all costs aim to protect yourself in such precarious circumstances.

The movement must catch his attention and he stills in place, seemingly waiting for you to reach him. Minho turns to look at you from over his shoulder, unwilling to fully give himself to your insistence of such.

Your chest feels impossibly tight, the struggling burn of discomfort creeping up and into your throat. Are these tears that threaten you? Why, you wonder. You care for him, yes, but there is little between you, and in most recent times not much more than some sort of contention. What is there to care for? And more than that, when has this man ever bothered to express as much towards you?

Still, you press forward. "Are you upset with me? It was thoughtless, but you have said before that I am able to do such things. Don't punish me for the allowances that you have offered!"

"Punish you?" Minho says, tone questioning. "I have no interest in punishing you for anything that you have done in my absence. Your personal matters are your own. If you wish to sleep with the prince then who am I to tell you not to."

"I do not wish to sleep with the prince! I wish to sleep with—"

It comes out faster than you have the chance to pull it back. Dripping with pure emotion and absolutely unbridled truth, you manage to cut it off at the tail end, though you fear that the damage has been done. The heat of humiliation curls up your spine, you take a step back and away from the man in front of you.

Too much silence creeps up between the two of your bodies, and Minho offers nothing to you in the immediate aftermath of the words. Wordlessly, you beg him to say something—anything—to cut through it, even if it is condemnation that sits at the tip of his tongue.

Much to your surprise, however, Minho turns back to face away from you fully with something of an awkward shift to his stature. He does not look at you, but the more that he chooses not to, the less you believe it to be a sign of displeasure and more so one born from a kind of strange unsureness of how to move forward, where to go with this from here.

He clears his throat loudly, one by one cracking the knuckles in his fingers as if to fill in the empty space between your bodies. Finally, he says, "Perhaps we simply move on from this, as if nothing ever happened. In any case, I'll be in the atrium, should you need to find me."

A curious thing to say from the man, one that has you reeling in shock upon hearing it. 

"Is that…an invitation?"

And to that, Minho sighs aloud.

"Must you make me speak everything into existence? Surely you've noticed I lack the capabilities for these sorts of things."

It's not perfect, but you'd not expected to leave this particular discussion with a smile pulling at your lips.

𝕏𝕍𝕀.

The atrium smells of cinnamon, paint thinner, and alcohol.

Rum, in particular. You're not able to make out its particular scent until you're much closer to the man that it emanates off of, pungent and impossible to ignore. You try to recall any other time that you've been aware of Minho's drinking, but you cannot.

Tonight must be a special night for him to be partaking.

There's a soft spot in the wooden paneling of the floor, and it creaks beneath your weight. This is enough to finally alert Minho of your arrival to this place, having not noticed you before. He glances at you from over his shoulder—not unlike the hours before—and then carries on with the mixture of colors that have already been dabbed onto the bristles of his brush.

"You came," he says.

"You drink."

Minho sighs at your response. "You know this, we have shared wine at the dinner table before."

"Yes, but not like this."

Hunched over and knelt onto the floor, Minho ignores this and instead continues painting. You opt out of pressing any further on the matter and instead, bring yourself to his side in order to see what it is that he is working on.

The canvas is wide rather than tall, with hues of blue, white and green masterfully splashed across the majority of it. The beauty of the ocean and the waves that live within it perfectly captured in time by his hand—a small ship depicted amidst it all.

"I spent some time by the harbor on this trip, and spent a good deal of my time there thinking about how my life might be if I ceased to exist here, the way that I have been, the way that I do."

You look down at him, but he does not look up. He continues with his work.

"The truth of the matter, is that there isn't much keeping me here, is there? Not much would change. I could be anywhere in the world doing this. No reason it must be here."

"Is that why you painted this? Your wish to escape it all?" you ask.

Minho stops his strokes, then drops his paintbrush into the muddied mixture of water just beside him. He stands to his feet—albeit wobbly—and stares down at the piece of artwork as if it's something not crafted from himself. A strange existence that has somehow found its way into his home, into his thoughts, but not of his own doing.

"I'm not sure that I even wish for it," he says. "I'm unsure of a lot of things. I make decisions largely because they are expected of me, because I see what everyone else does, and so I emulate it. It's easy to assimilate like this, I don't have to think about it all that much."

"Like taking a wife."

Minho looks away from the painting then and over towards you. You meet his eyes, but feel a sense of nervousness under the intensity that sits behind them tonight. 

"It has always been difficult for me to set my anxieties aside without the aid of warmth that the bottle brings. I don't partake often, I know it's unhealthy, so I keep to myself and suffer alone." Minho's hand reaches towards yours, and while you're happy to allow him to take it, that is not all that he does. Quickly you feel the gentle tug of his strength, inching you closer to him. His warm, soft palm tracing up the outside of your arm until it disappears behind your back to rest there. Now the scent of alcohol is strong on his breath, but you cannot find it within yourself to care when proximity is so tightly held between you.

Minho's finger traces down the middle of your back, an action that sends chills up the very same place. You fight back the shudder that threatens to shake you while in his grasp, and your own hands find their placement at the front of his broad, firm chest.

The alcohol indeed must be making him brave, lowering his inhibitions and the torrent of thoughts that otherwise might bar him from ever attempting this. For that, you are thankful. You glance at his lips, then up at eyes that are already watching you. Minho's thoughts and feelings are nearly indiscernible on his face; still thinking, thinking, thinking, no doubt.

He leans in towards you, so short and small that you nearly miss it entirely if not for how rapt with attention to him you are. A tentative gesture to test the waters, to see if you will pull away.

But you will not.

And so, he presses forward again, slowly still, as if to give you ample time to escape him. You couldn't imagine yourself a world where you might; heart beating hard and fast within your chest in anticipation of this, fingers gripping tightly into the fabric of his shirt with each passing second between the two of you. Truthfully, you have been wanting this, for so, so long. Longer than you could ever fathom to allow him to know, the kind of dull, anticipatory, hopeful desire that rests dormant often, but never completely able to be ignored.

It's hard to pinpoint the moment in which Minho became more than just a concept of a husband in your mind, muddied even more once his lips finally find your own. Careful and warm, he kisses you like he's afraid to break you, but the hand gripping at the small of your back tells a different story; one of forced back desire, of bitten back need. It presses your body more firmly against his, it informs far more than his words will allow for now. 

When you do not create space, the kiss becomes heavier too. Testing, unsure lips that at first only ghost against your own then expose their want for you in the careful turn of his head and ever so slight nips of teeth at the bottom of your lip. Harder, faster with every moment that passes in the atrium; you forget to breathe and gasp into his mouth, Minho finally relents in tasting you so ravenously.

Physical desire is nothing new to you, but never have you experienced it quite like this.

Minho's free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb grazing lightly against the skin of your cheek as he looks at you. Both just slightly out of breath, you can't fathom how wrecked you appear just from a kiss.

His lips part as if to speak, and then close shortly thereafter. Once again; thinking, thinking, thinking. The alcohol is incapable of disposing of it all. Then, they part again, and Minho pushes forward with the words that fail him so frequently.

"Do you still love the prince?"

The least that you can do is answer his question honestly.

"I don't know."

And though it may not be the ideal reply, Minho still appears pleased by it. Everything that you have learned about him since your arrival here points to the very same conclusion, because he smiles ever so slightly, and gives a small nod in acceptance.

𝕏𝕍𝕀𝕀.

Though not spoken of, the kiss lives on in every interaction shared between the two of you going forward.

You wish deeply for the conversation to come to a head, but by now you know Minho and the way that he functions well enough to know that that will more than likely not be the case. Still, you manage to find solace in this fact; his nervous mannerisms and the barely there catch in his voice when speaking to you on occasion, as if the memory of such has just caught up with him in real time. You smile through these instances, pleased by them in some capacity. Pleased knowing that it is not a thing that has simply come and gone.

The only person that Minho answers to in his life is his agent, and his agent insists on having a holiday party at the estate.

On the day of, it is a week into December. Snow has begun to fall, though not heavily yet. It sprinkles like sugar from the sky, only lightly dusting the windows and grounds. It is a beautiful sight, but you're thankful for not having to be the one traveling within it, and when the guests start arriving, you realize just how grossly unprepared for this volume of guests the home truly is. Not enough coat racks, not enough space for wiping off their shoes. Hats are placed wherever it is that they can go; Mai scuttling about the hallways with her staff in an attempt to make it all work.

To your surprise, Minho makes himself seen. No doubt a push by said agent, but his displeasure at doing so resides heavily within his stature.

First laying eyes on him is a sight to behold. His hair is more put together, set into place purposefully. He wears all black, but the front panel of his coat is garnished with the sparkle and shine of dark jewels that bring it to life. It's a little unlike him, you have to admit, but Minho wears it well.

Quickly, you finish up a conversation with people that your husband barely knows, that you have barely been partaking in, and go to him. He, too, is amidst something of the same, though handling it far less gracefully than you have.

You put on your widest smile, and curl your arm firmly around his own from the side.

"My sincerest apologies," you start, tone dripping with a sweet edge, "I'm afraid I must take my husband from you, if only for a brief moment."

The man smiles and nods happily, understanding of whatever situation it is that you've made up in your head in order to rescue Minho. It's late into the evening and you've not been keeping a watchful eye, but the smell on his breath of alcohol is one that you're quite familiar with, and disappearing into the halls towards less-traveled passages, you can't help but wonder what this instance has in store.

Minho drags along, but doesn't say a word. He stumbles slightly once, you try not to ascribe it to his drunkenness unfairly. You have just the place in mind, and once you reach the old, empty study at the far, opposite end of the hall, you push Minho inside lightly, and then close the door behind.

"Are you rescuing the damsel?" Minho asks, cheeky and with a smile. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only to someone with the eyes to see it," you reply. "I know that you don't enjoy these sorts of busy situations."

"One might say I hate it, in fact." Minho steps towards you, and you take a step back. Only there is nowhere left for you to go, and your back is up against the door from which you came. "Indeed, I much prefer quieter moments of peace, just between myself and another…"

His hand finds the outside of your thigh, only the thick layers of your dress between skin. He closes the space further, as much as he can, until his body is pressed tightly against your own. You've been holding your breath—for how long? you wonder. A sharp inhale takes you, though it's ragged and shudders at the feeling of being with him like this. Everything that Minho offers you feels white hot, regardless of the clothes that keep you separated, and when his mouth finds the line of your jaw, you cannot help but melt into the touch.

You ache for him. A dull throb that makes itself known, impossible to ignore. His other hand snakes around your waist to pull you closer—as if closer is physically possible. You could beg for him to touch you elsewhere, drunk with want not unlike his own intoxication.

"I don't care if you love another man," he says suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere. The abrupt mention of Hyunjin sends something of a cold chill to your otherwise hot skin. "I'm happy that you're here, I love having you here…" His lips are still lightly mouthing against the flesh of your jaw, voice low, nearly a whisper. "I love…you. Even in the event that you love another, that is of no consequence to me. Not really."

Desire has waned, flushed away quickly as if it had never even been there. You gently push Minho away so that you can look him in the eyes, but all that you find is the slightly drunken, but incredibly sincere glean looking back at you.

"You're drunk," you say, rejecting his advances for this to go any further. Now is not the time. "You always say and do such things when you're intoxicated."

"Do you assume me to be more intoxicated than I am so that you don't have to acknowledge the words?"

You don't respond to this immediately. Minho does not deserve to be told a lie, and thus, you say nothing.

He continues on. "In the atrium that night, you assumed that I was making poor choices, outside of the realm of my own logic? Things that I would never do just because of the drink? And then now, you think the same? Do you truly believe that, or is it easier than the words? Because no one understands that feeling better than I do."

"Is that why you drink, then? To say and do all of the things that you can't do when you're sober?" You scoff lightly. "You can't drink through every step of your life."

"I don't, I won't," Minho says firmly. "Think of it more…as a coincidence."

Stepping towards you once more, Minho closes in on you all over again. His lips mere inches away from your own as he gazes down at you.

Then, the door opens from behind you, and he pulls it open to fashion himself an exit.

"If you don't believe me, then you're more than welcome to nurse my hangover in the morning hours, since you'll be awake!" he says loudly, far too cheerfully for everything that's gone on. 

You smile at him, and hate that you do. This annoying, eccentric, strange man that has buried himself so deeply beneath your skin. An unshakable, ineffable and unquantifiable shine to his mere existence.

Minho disappears back down the hall and towards the guests that await him, nearly skipping as he does so. You watch from the doorframe, make an effort to steady the quick beating of your heart, and replay the words over and over again in your mind; unremittingly.

"Good morning, darling."

Bent over the kitchen counter, chin perched up against your palm, you cock your head and smile at Minho as he slowly, carefully enters the shared space. Eyes narrow, like any light pains his entire being.

"Shall we take you for your bath, then?" you add, walking towards him and circling your arm around his.

A light steam rises from the water as Minho's sore body sinks into it. You reenter just moments later with a set of clothing in hand, and sit yourself just beside the porcelain tub to aid him in his recovery.

"You shouldn't drink so much," you say, obviously.

"I know," he admits through a groan. "Every time I do this, I say it'll be the last. Then another social event comes up."

"There was no such social event in the atrium that evening."

"Sure there was, you were there."

Silence falls between the two of you in the following moments, and you watch as Minho closes his eyes, sinks his body deeper into the water to the point that only his head sticks out from the top. You take it upon yourself to lightly remove strands of hair stuck to the dampness of his forehead, and then, Minho inhales with intent to speak.

"I apologize for last night, as well as for the evening in the atrium. I apologize for…parts of them, but not everything." He pauses, eyes still closed, but forces himself to continue on. "The truth is: I do not care about your history with the prince, no matter how recent it has been. I understand there is a complexity there that I may never be able to grasp, nor do I think it necessary for me to do so. What is necessary of me—as your husband—is to be kind, understanding, and perhaps if there could be space for it; loving."

You still completely, allowing the words to wash over you and sink deeply into every crevice of your being.

He speaks again. "Suppose what I had hoped for; some starry-eyed, hopeless romantic sort of expectation in all of this that was left unspoken, is that regardless of your feelings for him, your history with him, that you might still find space in your heart to someday love me too."

An immediate reply escapes you, and you lose sight of just how tortuous such a wait can be until Minho cracks one, single eye open and peers at you cautiously through it.

"Please, say something. Put me out of my misery, if you must," he says.

Your senses come back to you quickly, shaking your head in the negative. "No! No, Minho…have you truly not noticed? Let us not forget who it was that insisted upon the two of us becoming more than strangers who share a home together…"

"Living with strangers is, well, strange. You could have meant anything by that."

You try not to roll your eyes, but fail. Instead of pressing further on this particular endeavor, you decide to revisit the original one, as brought forward by him. The entire thing remains fascinating to you—the density of his capability to understand things that come to you with such ease.

"I probably can," you say, acknowledging his hope for the openness of your heart. "I probably do."

Minho closes his eyes again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The tension that collected at his shoulders amidst all of this falling away like weights strapped to him. You are calmed watching him unravel before you.

"Let us share an evening meal tonight, something special. Think about all of the things that you wish to say to me in earnest, and I will do the same," you offer quietly.

"I would like that."

𝕏𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Minho enters just as the large, antique clock begins to sing its tune of nine in the evening.

Candle light flickers against the walls of the dining room and illuminates the table where all of the dishes that Mai has hand crafted herself sit. A beautiful display, though hardly what you're taking an interest in tonight.

He takes his seat across from you, clears his throat gently, and averts his eyes as much as he can until it seemingly dawns on him that he cannot do so for much longer. Reluctantly, Minho looks at you, and though his appearance is not unlike his usual self, something new makes itself apparent within him.

Mai comes over and pours your glass of wine, then makes her way around the table towards his. However, Minho does not accept the gesture. Watching you the entire time.

"You're not having wine with your meal?" you ask.

"No, I've decided to come off it, at least for a time."

"For a time?"

"This time."

Surprisingly confident and almost sinister sounding, Minho no longer makes an effort to avert his eyes from you and as a result, the weight of them rests heavily on your form. There is a sort of humor to this, you find, desiring nothing more than for him to see you for so long and now feeling as though you should shrink away from beneath his gaze. Why is he looking at you in such a way? Why is it that you feel like prey?

You steady your nerves and smile. "Well, there will be other times."

"Do you wish to remain married to me?"

Your attention pulls towards him quickly and with a confused earnestness. "What? Why are you asking me such a thing?"

Minho leans forward against the table. "We agreed to have this meal together and discuss such things. I think…I have not done much to aid in the ease of your comfort here. I think we have grown a lot together, maybe even enjoy our time shared. Perhaps it is time that we decide on just how much of a married life we wish to have with one another. Thus, do you wish to remain married to me?"

"Is there really an alternative?" you question, somewhat humorously. "Of course, marriages have ended before but we hardly meet the sorts of societal requirements for such a thing."

"You have not answered my question," he insists.

You press your palms abruptly to the table, fed up by his ridiculous pushing on the matter.

"Yes! I wish to remain married to you! My goodness; we've shared meals together, our thoughts and dreams and hopes for the future together, intimacy together! As if I've not made it clear where I stand on the matter while I drag you along through all of this kicking and screaming the whole way…you don't exactly make it easy on a woman!"

"So you are happy."

"Yes!" you quickly bite back.

"Content."

"Yes, Minho!"

"But you want more," he continues on, the rapid fire back and forth between you now mounting the anticipation of where this is meant to go.

"Of course I do!"

"You desire more of me."

"Yes!" you reply, exasperated by the questioning but barely even having a moment to register what's been laid out before you. The affirmation slips out from your lips unwillingly, but it's too late to bring it back. Instead, you watch Minho's eyes narrow mischievously as a result of the grin that tugs at his lips. He must be pleased with himself.

"We should eat." Hardly convincing when you say it. Still, you pick up your utensil. "The food will get cold."

"We can eat any time," Minho says, still playfully persistent. "Is there anything that you wish to ask of me?"

"Yes! What has gotten into you?"

"You, us; the concept of it, the possibility of it." Minho pushes his chair back then and stands, makes his way around the table and towards you. He takes your hand gently, timidly, and pulls you up towards him. Protest dies in your throat before you have the chance to make it heard, because his hand slips around your back and as a result, your body rests flush against his. "Admittedly, I am slow on the uptake of such things. My thoughts get the best of me, second guessing every interaction, every word…" He trails off, the hand at your back slipping to settle at your waist, and then it tightens. "Every touch."

Minho's face dips over to the side of yours, lips edging at the shell of your ear and then he whispers against it, "But you say you want more of me, more that I've not yet given. More that I can give."

Your head swims, warm breath tickling your skin in such an enticing way. Minho's grip against you does not relent, nor do you want it to. You've quietly yearned for what appears to be now presented before you; his touch, and in ways, so much more than that.

"I've still not seen where you sleep," you say quietly, pointedly. "Only ever the atrium."

"Some husband I am, making my darling wife wait so long for such a thing." Minho's hand then slowly falls from your waist down to your hip, then further more to your thigh. His palm settles atop the front for a short moment before he then continues the journey between them, bunching the fabric of your skirt where his fingers rest. "I've not been doing my due diligence, have I?"

Knees nearly buckling at the touch, you clutch onto him by the shoulders, breath hitching as you attempt to answer him. "No, you certainly have not."

This is your best attempt at maintaining composure, but truthfully, you stand in his grasp, disoriented with want for him. Minho's lips graze your jaw, teeth bared within a smile. He says, "Allow me to make it up to you, then."

The large, ornate door to his bedroom closes, and with no more time to waste, Minho's hands begin to artfully search for the flesh of your body.

His lips hurriedly find yours, as if the only thing he ever wishes to taste is within them. Fingers adeptly unfastening the buttons and clasps of your dress while you, in turn, do much of the same at those that hold the fabric of his shirt in place. The race is won by you, and your mouths part only long enough to remove the hindrance from his body—but he follows just after—and your garment falls away, exposed to the ambient chill of the room, though not for long.

Minho leads you with a gentle urgency back towards his bed. There's a haste behind his motions that alludes to a dormant kind of desire that has been held inside of him for far longer than you have been aware of, not at all unlike yourself. As your back finds the mattress, Minho follows you over it; mouth only leaving your skin for the briefest of seconds before finding it once again.

Your legs fall apart to fit his body between them, and his hand slips beneath your last remaining undergarment soon after. Deft fingers that glide between your folds, ample pressure that has you gasping into his mouth for him to drink down and arching your back up to meet the firmness of his chest. Minho smiles against your lips as you do so, slowly and methodically unraveling you for his own viewing pleasure.

He pulls back, slinks down the length of your body and trailing his lips along the way. Warm, wetness circles at your chest before he continues further down.

Hands grip firmly into the plush flesh of your thighs, prying them apart for him just that much more. You glance down, but cannot stand to look at the sight of him; his face mere inches away from just the place that you wish for him to touch again. Minho does not leave you wanting, perhaps he cannot bear to do so, and his tongue finds you, mouth pressed flush against your own lips. The gasp that escapes from you is horrid, far too telling of how much you've been wanting to have him like this. 

Minho pulls off of you, but his dominant hand finds the place he has only just left instead. The wetness pooling is nearly humiliating if not for the comfort that you feel in his presence, and his fingers delicately trickle downward further, carefully driving into you. He watches your face as he takes you apart just that much more, but you do not have the sensibilities to muster up much for words.

"Do you like this?" he asks, the first words spoken since entering the room. The press of his fingers against you is slow, rhythmic, testing. Before you find it within yourself to respond, his mouth reattaches to the place just above where his hand works you open.

Yes falls away from you, though you're not sure how you've managed it. It appears to please him, however, and he continues on with a newly found enthusiasm. He pushes deeper, and a moan escapes you with every drive. A sheen of sweat collects atop your skin, strands of hair matted against you, fingers curling tightly into the sheets beneath your grasp.

Your skin prickles, warmth spreading across your body and muscles stiffening as he continues on. Breaths to take in become shorter and faster, the grind of your hips against the way that he works your body less and less within your conscious control. You slip a hand down between your legs, gently carding fingers through soft, black hair. His fingers curl inside of you, and as a result of it, so do yours atop his head. A whimper slips out from between your lips, and following immediately after, come the desperate pleads for him not to stop.

And he has no intention of doing so. Minho does not stop until your pleasure peaks and ravages your body within his hold. You shake and cry out; wounded gasps and moans that avalanche from you thoughtlessly, the only thing that you can manage through this feeling. Once satisfied, he slows to bring you back down gently, and once delicately seated, he removes himself from you and the bed entirely to finish the act of disrobing.

Chest heaving with exhausted breaths, you nearly miss his doing so, only alerted to the fact once the bed dips again, signifying his return to you. Minho crawls between your legs and up the length of your body just as he did the first time; kisses your chest, your neck, your jaw, only to then settle atop your lips. Teeth faintly find the bottom of your lip, already well and truly bitten raw from your own abuse. Still, you reach up to feel the warmth of his skin under your hands and revel in the way that his body feels against your own. Though release has found you once this evening, you are not truly satiated by him yet.

Minho's hand slips down between both of your bodies to hold himself in place. You feel him against you; wet and solid, enticing and teasing. You move almost involuntarily against him, hopeful to receive what it is that you desire from him now, but he is unwilling to relent to your neediness just yet.

You gasp lightly against his mouth, and Minho happily accepts it into his own, delighted by the way you come apart beneath him.

"Have you thought about it before?" he asks, a coy whisper shared only between lovers. A question that does not require further expansion, for you know precisely what it is that is being referred to.

"So many times," you reply.

At that, Minho begins the slow, precise drive of himself inside of you once more. "Apologies for keeping you waiting then."

He sinks into you, body accepting him with ease. Minho's mouth hangs slightly ajar as he does so, taken by the feeling, and settles momentarily once his hips meet flush against your own before his hips pull back and he repeats the process once more. The thick drag, hard and strong is dizzying and nearly disorienting to your senses—your fingernails dig into his skin, and for the first time, Minho groans with a sort of primal lust that has the hairs across your skin standing on end, and the fire inside of your abdomen burning just that much hotter than before.

With the ease in which your body accepts him, Minho is able to find a quick and strong rhythm. Harder and faster his hips find your own, the urgency needing this moment for so long finally coming to a head between the both of you. Your whimpers and moans echo off the walls, losing sight of the once prominent thought in your mind that the staff may hear you; instead, you beg and plead for more of him, anything that he is physically capable of giving you—he does.

Body tightening beneath him, you feel once again the familiar promise of release. Your hands glide over hot, damp skin; muscles that flex and move with every drive of himself inside of you. Minho kisses you—a sloppy attempt—but you meet it happily, and his face falls away to the crook of your neck to nip into the skin there. One, strong hand slips down to grip at your thigh, pulls you apart further and wider for him to work your body open with his own. Hard, methodical strokes; one after another, whimpers and whines punched out of you with each. You beg for more, continuously beg as if never satisfied, and Minho continues to give relentlessly to you until his own ability finally falters and gives way; rhythm shifting, failing, wavering. He hisses against your skin, choking out a pained groan, and you find your end just alongside him in bitten back cries and a final, deep sinking of himself within you.

Chests heaving and basking in the afterglow for many, long moments, he does not hurry to separate your bodies, and instead, his lips begin to work at the sensitive skin of your neck once again. You close your eyes to simply enjoy the feeling of this, of him, and hold tightly in your arms the man that has somehow come to be precisely what it is that you have always hoped for someone to become.

"Stay here tonight," he says quietly. "Don't go."

You smile, barely there. Mustering up all of the energy within your bones that you have left to expend and say, "I wouldn't dream of it."

𝕏𝕀𝕏.

The new year brings new cheer, as well as new prospects to the household.

It has been a year since you've been back to the city center, and though covered in snow and the dreadful darkness that winter brings, you feel some semblance of ease having returned.

You remember the days that you spent dreaming of being inside of these very same castle walls, though now that you're here, you can't help but feel as though they glitter less brightly than what it is that you had imagined.

Beside you, Minho stands with a forced and feigned confidence. He glances at you, perhaps having felt your eyes upon him, and offers a nervous smile that does nothing to placate your concern for him. Indeed, not all things change with ease—and some may never—but having the comfort of those who love you shouldering much of the burden instead. 

In arm, he holds a wrapped painting. One that you know well; a small ship atop a vast, brightly colored sea.

You hear the echo of doors opening from behind you, and when you turn, you are familiar with what you see.

Methodical clicks of shoes being the only thing that cuts through the silence, you watch as the prince makes his way towards the two of you—a smile on his face—and most certainly a genuine one. You've never known Hyunjin to be particularly petty, or mean-spirited; and despite all of his shortcomings, he likely does feel softness in his heart for you and the happiness that you have found.

"Your Highness," Minho says with an accompanying bow, but Hyunjin is quick to put a hand up and wave away the gesture.

"I do believe the three of us are well past the need for such things." Looking at you, Hyunjin smiles. "I see things worked out in the end, then?"

With half a mind to question how it is that he knows, you instead chalk it up to a sort of intangible, understood aura that simply exists between lovers; people who are madly, deeply in love with one another. You couldn't fight back the smile if you tried, and so, you don't. Instead, your hand finds Minho's free one, and you nod.

"Yes, indeed they have."

"Splendid news! Perhaps someday I will find myself to be so lucky," Hyunjin says, though there is a particular bite of discontentment in the words that you feel you understand far too well. "Nevertheless, you've brought the painting! I wish I could express in words how eagerly I've been anticipating receiving this piece…ever since it was put up into the auction, I simply knew I had to have it."

"I appreciate your kindness," Minho replies, squeezing your hand lightly. Just another, small offering shared between lovers.

"You will be paid handsomely for this. I am aware of what the asking was but I feel as though it is worth far more, and I'll see to it that you receive precisely that which you are deserving of."

Eyes widening in surprise, Minho glances first at you—but you merely shrug, unmoved by Hyunjin's antics—and instead, he defers to the prince, himself. "Your Highness, that's not—"

"Aht! It is. You creatives truly must value yourself higher, the world moves and exists and revolves around these crafts. Without art, we have nothing. We are nothing."

Hyunjin calls for his housestaff to take the canvas from Minho's grasp, and as they disappear down the hall, the man smiles widely at the two of you as if pleased with himself, with everything that has taken place today.

"Perhaps next in line is getting that book of yours published."

You shake your head, a sort of nervousness striking you that isn't commonplace. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, you know, there is much of you written inside of those pages."

He waves his hand in the air again, unbothered by the fact. "So be it, I'd rather like being not just a part of history, but a part of art, as well."

"Strange fellow," Minho says, walking beside you through the city streets and long after having bid the prince farewell. "Not sure what it is that you ever saw in him."

The comment is pointedly comedic, and you judge him playfully with your elbow before responding in words. "He's handsome, and royalty. Suppose for a long time I didn't consider there to be much else outside of those things. What else could a man have to offer me?"

"As it would seem, only having one of those things is plenty to suit you," he jokes, slinging an arm up and around your shoulders as the two of you carry on. "You have been taken by my confusing whimsy and cumbersome charms."

"So it would seem," you reply, watching the sprinkle of shimmering snow collect atop a difficult, complicated head of black hair that you have incomprehensibly grown to love.

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed it! no pt. 2, and kind words are always much appreciated ♡

#lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n

[creamsickle-writes]

A Thing or Two: Ace x F!Reader x Luffy

Tags: nsfw, Luffy and Ace interact in a not safe for work context (Ace teaches Luffy how to have sex and guides him to Reader's entrance during the fic), oral sex, penetrative sex, creampies, and light dirty talk

Ace noticed how his little brother stared at you.

As you danced in the middle of the ship’s deck, Luffy had his eyes glued to you the entire time; his eyes raked over your figure, his gaze shamelessly glued to your hips as you shook them. He would occasionally reach towards the table of food behind him, eating here and there. 

Ace cracked a smile; it had been a long time since he reunited with his brother. After his two years of training, it seemed he’d certainly grown up in more ways than one. After all, he had never seen Luffy so interested in women before. 

Ace approached his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder, a grin on his face.

“She’s a looker, isn’t she?”

“Huh?” Luffy looked up at his brother.

“The girl you’ve been eyeing all night,” Ace laughed, cocking his head in your direction.

Luffy blushed slightly and turned back to the buffet table, stuffing his face with anything and everything. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ace.” 

“You don’t have to deny it, you know.” Ace chuckled, “Not like you to be shy.”

Luffy grumbled as he ate his meat, barely chewing before swallowing it all, “Not being shy, don’t like her like that. She’s just a friend.”

Ace raises a brow, “Then surely you don’t mind me talking to her, do you?”

Ace stiffens when Luffy looks up at him, his eyes filled with almost murderous intent. Ace laughed and raised his hands, trying to calm the younger man, “Easy, Luffy. Was only teasing.”

“Good!” Luffy pouted, “’Cause she’s mine, and you can’t have her!”

“Thought you didn’t like her like that?” Ace teased, and Luffy just crossed his arms in defiance. 

“Well, maybe I lied!” 

Ace laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Why don’t you talk to her? I saw her staring at you a few times tonight.”

“Really?!” Luffy bounced off the walls, looking at you as you danced amongst your crewmates. 

Luffy immediately dashed towards you, striking up conversation rather quickly. Ace only laughed. That was his brother, for sure.

He watched on, seeing you both talk happily. 

_____

A few months later, Ace reunites with his brother again, and yet again, another fantastic party is thrown. 

This crew really liked any excuse to party, Ace finds out quickly.

And this time, when he sees his brother, he’s dancing with you instead of just ogling you from afar. Ace smiles, glad he was part of why you two eventually ended up together. 

As the party goes on, you eventually leave the dance floor and make your way to Ace. To his surprise, you ask if you can speak with him in private. He gives a shrug and decides, sure, he can step away for a bit.

When you reach the kitchen, you sit down, and Ace sits beside you.

“Hey, um,” you start, nervously laughing, “I know this is weird, but… but do you know Luffy is into?”

“Into?” Ace squints, leaning back in his chair.

He doesn’t miss how your cheeks flush, “Well, it’s just that… I’ve tried dropping hints to Luffy that I want to, um, take our relationship further, but I don’t think he’s noticed?”

Ace cracks a smile.

Oh.

You wanted to know how to turn Luffy on.

“Not sure,” he shrugs, “I’d imagine you’d have to be very blunt with him, though.”

You only nod, leaning in to capture every word from Ace’s lips.

“Just don’t dance around it. Say how you feel.”

“Okay.” You then clear your throat, “And um, I just wanted to ask um….”

Ace sits up, your tone seeming to change with this new topic. You sounded meeker, even more shy, as you talked.

“I’m not very experienced, so… I-I don’t know much about pleasing others like that… do you think you could, um, give me some tips before you leave?”

Ace’s eyes widened before you quickly added, “You don’t have to, though! I’m sorry, this is probably really inappropriate!”

Ace only laughs, patting your shoulder, “It’s nothing to worry about! I can probably give you some pointers before I head off.”

Now Ace is blushing because, well, it sounded like he was going to physically show you. But he swore that wasn’t his intention; he would only verbally communicate with you.

At least, that’s what the plan was.

You sigh before brushing off your skirt, “Thanks, Ace; I’m sorry this was so terribly awkward.”

“Not at all.”

The flame man watches as you get up from your seat and make your way to the kitchen door, offering a short farewell before leaving.

At that moment, when the door closes, he notices a bit of straw peeking out from behind the kitchen counter. Ace smiles softly; looks like his interaction with you had an observer.

“Luffy,” Ace calls, and immediately the straw hat ducks under the counter, “I know you’re here.”

Ace gets up from his seat and walks behind the counter, spotting the young man crouched by the floor. 

Ace kneels beside him, “Looks like your girl wants you to make a move.”

Luffy hums, “Don’t know how.”

“What?”

“I wanna do it with her, but… I don’t know what girls like.”

Ace offers a small laugh, “Looks like you’re both too scared of being inexperienced to get the ball rolling.”

“’m not scared!” Luffy retorts, “Just… wanna make sure she feels good.”

Ace gives a smile out of pity for his brother. He had never seen him be self-conscious before. He always seemed to rush in, to charge ahead without thinking, but it seemed like you meant a lot to him, and he didn’t want to mess up.

“Want you to show us, Ace. Please?”

Ace turns beet red at that and stumbles backward, landing on his ass.

“C-Come on, Luffy, I can’t do that-“

“Why not?”

“I mean, it’d be weird. We’re brothers, you know? I don’t think-“

“Pleaseeeeeee?”

Ace sighed, “Luffy-“

“Besides, we aren’t, um,” Luffy thinks momentarily to find his words, “Blood-related! Or even married-related!”

Ace chewed the inside of his mouth. That was a fair point; there would really be nothing incestuous about this possible encounter. But still, it felt forbidden, wrong…

“Come on, Ace, you taught me how to do everything! What’s so different about this?!”

Ace is about to offer another rebuttal, but he can’t say no when he sees Luffy’s big, round doe-eyes.

Instead, Ace sighs, “Alright, how are we going to do this?”

_____

The next night comes, and Ace asks to see you in the crow’s nest. You make your way up, surprised to see Luffy is there too. Your boyfriend gives you a big smile and waves as Ace stands next to him, a slight smirk on his face.

“What’s up?” You ask, cautiously approaching the two men.

Ace starts, “I know you asked for some tips before. I think Luffy and I have come up with a more hands-on solution.”

You flush as you notice how the crow’s nest is furnished. There are piles of pillows and blankets adorning the floorboards. Everything between you three looks so cozy, so soft. Your eyes flicker from the floor back up to Ace and Luffy.

“A um, h-hands-on solution you say…”

“Only if you want to.” Ace adds, “But Luffy said that he wants me to show him how to please you, and since you asked how to please him, I figured we could kill two birds with one stone, yeah?”

You chewed at your bottom lip. You had always found Luffy’s brother attractive, and now that you were presented with the opportunity of being with the two men at once, your head spun.

“Don’t you feel weird about this?”

“I was a bit at first, but Luffy reminded me that we’re not technically brothers,” Ace laughs, and Luffy plops down on the blankets, spreading out comfortably as he stares up at you.

“Come on,” Luffy motions for you to come close, “Lay down with me!”

You timidly step onto the blankets and kneel next to Luffy. Little did you know you’d be sealing your fate.

Luffy kisses your lips as soon as you’re in the makeshift bed. It’s messy, wild, and full of so much energy. Your head spins.

You hear Ace laugh from behind Luffy, and soon your lips separate, “Easy there. Why don’t you try a different approach?”

“Like how?” Luffy tilts his head as he turns to look at the older man.

Ace makes his way between you both, cupping your cheek, “You mind if I show him?”

“U-Um, you can…”

Ace laughs lowly before leaning in, pressing a softer kiss to your lips. He’s still very much in charge, though, kissing you with a particular passion and forcefulness. You gasp when he licks your bottom lip, asking for permission.

Luffy never did that.

You timidly opened your mouth, allowing Ace to explore your cavern. When he slides his tongue against your own, you moan, enjoying the feeling.

When he parts from you, Luffy speaks: “Ew, why would you wanna kiss with your tongue? Sounds gross.”

“Just try it,” Ace chuckles, scooting away from you, “It feels good.”

“‘Kay…” Luffy mumbles before cupping your face and leaning in to press his lips against yours. He’s still more passionate than Ace and slightly clumsy, but you can tell he’s trying to mimic his bond brother. Soon enough, he’s licking at your lips, and you open your mouth, allowing him to explore. 

Luffy slides his tongue up against yours, tasting you thoroughly. A soft moan escapes your mouth as he begins fucking it with his tongue, teasing your own. 

He keeps going until you need to break for air. You’re left breathless as you pull away, your spit connecting you two.

Luffy bites his lips, “You’re right, Ace. Does feel good…”

And before you can catch your breath, Luffy is back on you, kissing you with his newly acquired skills. He drags you onto his lap, and you gasp when you already feel something hard poking you.

Meanwhile, Ace’s breath is trapped in his throat. Watching you and Luffy make out was really hot. He couldn’t help but bite his lip as his cock twitched in his pants. He wanted nothing more than to take your lips again, but he knew his place; he was just the instructor.

Luffy immediately tugs at your dress’s hem, “Take it off, please?”

You laugh at his whining and slowly remove your dress, allowing your body to be visible. Ace swallows thickly; you are such a beautiful girl. Your curves were in all the right places, your skin seemed silky smooth, and your beautiful eyes looked up at Luffy with such innocence.

He’s lost in your body as Luffy struggles with your bra clasp. His groans of frustration cause Ace to snap out of his trance.

“Stupid thing-!” Luffy growls, and Ace laughs.

“Here, it’s like this.” And Ace masterfully undoes your bra with a single hand. You feel your core clench at the action.

“Ohhhh,” Luffy muses as your bra straps fall off your shoulders, allowing your bra to hit the floor, “Thanks, Ace!” 

Luffy immediately reaches for your tits, molding them in his hands. You squeal at the touch, and Ace laughs. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You flush, your eyes looking away from both Luffy and Ace.

“What should I do with ’em, Ace?” Luffy asks, looking up at the dark-haired man.

The older man only chuckles, “You kiss on ’em… suck ’em, like this…”

Ace leans forward and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue slowly over your puckering nipples. He moans against your skin and takes your torso in his hands, softly rubbing your sides. You throw your head back, letting out soft whimpers as he pleases you.

He pulls away, your nipple popping out of his mouth. Luffy practically bounces in place, eager to get started. 

“I wanna try too!” And with that, your Captain lunges forward, taking your other nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly at your breast, taking your other one into his hands. He tweaks and pulls at the nipple not in his mouth, and Ace bites his lip as he watches on, his own erection becoming unbearably painful.

He tries to touch himself sneakily, palming his erection in his shorts. You and Luffy don’t notice, though, as you’re too involved with each other. Luffy moans happily as he sucks on your nipples, nibbling them roughly as he gropes your other breast. Your eyes are shut tight, your head tossed back as you relish the feeling.

Ace sneaks behind you, abandoning his weeping erection for a moment to tug at your panties. You gasp as Ace pulls you away from Luffy, his arms holding you tight against his chest. You take off your panties, and Luffy stares, enamored by the sight of your slick folds.

Ace spreads your legs with one hand and slides his other between your legs, spreading your folds. Luffy licks his lips and immediately goes for your cunt, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

“O-Oh, Luffy-!”

“Make sure you focus on that little ball at the top, Luff,” Ace instructs, his fingers still spreading you open so Luffy can enjoy his feast.

“Here?” Luffy questions innocently, flicking his tongue over your swollen clit roughly. You gasp sharply and arch your back, causing Ace to chuckle.

“Mhm, just like that,” Ace smirks before his hands find their way to your breasts, molding them and pulling at your nipples.

Okay, so he knew he was supposed to be the teacher, but he couldn’t resist you anymore. He could always excuse it as adding to your pleasure anyway.

Your eyes flutter shut as your sensitive parts are stimulated. With Ace pulling at your nipples and Luffy slobbering all over your clit, you weren’t sure if you could last long.

“Mmh,” Luffy moans, “Tastes good…”

You flush at the vulgar words that left his mouth, your legs starting to quiver.

“You okay?” 

Ace answers for you, “She’s getting close; keep going.”

Luffy dove in once again, sucking and slurping at your sensitive nub. You instinctively reach for his raven hair, pulling the young man into your cunt. Luffy groans at the action and eats you out with even more determination. 

“Fuck, Luffy-!” 

You squeal, gushing onto his tongue. The Captain moans heartily, tonguing your clit and sucking up all you had to give. 

Ace groans from behind and accidentally ruts against your ass, causing you to gasp. It was your first time noticing that he was erect as well.

But you don’t say anything about it.

Luffy sits up with a huge grin, “Was that good?”

“Of course,” you pant out, your head swimming as you attempt to ground yourself in reality. 

“Alright, let me teach you a few things, yeah?” Ace chuckles, his breath hot against your ear, 

You nod timidly, and Ace adjusts himself so he’s on his knees now, guiding you so you do the same. 

“Stand up, Luffy.” Ace commands and Luffy follows, getting the picture. The younger man starts to undo his pants and hastily removes them along with his underwear. His cock is red and throbbing, his shaft excitedly twitching in the air. You swallow and look to Ace for permission to touch.

“Go on and grab it. Not too rough, alright?”

You nod and grip Luffy from the base, making him jump. 

“Good, but more towards the tip, okay?” Ace suggests before taking your hand in his, guiding it to the flushed head, “And let’s start slow…”

Ace keeps your soft hand in his as he begins pumping Luffy’s cock. He flushes deeply as he realizes what he’s doing, but Ace swallows harshly; he was just helping, that was all.

“Y-You got it?” Ace asks, and you nod. He releases your hand, allowing you to take control now. Luffy’s thighs clench as you stroke the tip of his dick, streams of precum leaking out.

Luffy calls your name as he pants, “Feels… really good-!” 

“Why don’t you help him out?” Ace chuckles, “Look how he’s crying out for you.”

You glance between Ace and Luffy briefly before lowering your head, licking up all the precum that pooled at the top. 

Ace bit back a groan as his cock throbbed at the sight. Your blushing face and nervous tongue were too much, and the lewd sounds from Luffy’s mouth only added to the entire scene. 

“More-“ Luffy grunts, thrusting his hips impatiently, causing his slick head to rut against your cheek. 

Ace purrs, “Let’s give him more, yeah?”

You nod, and before you can say anything, Ace tucks your hair behind your ear and pushes your head forward. You moan as you take Luffy into your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock. He practically howls as you take him as deep as possible. Your eyes look up at your boyfriend, his own shut tight.

Ace moves your head back and forth, helping you bob your head on Luffy’s cock. He grunts under his breath, his own cock twitching as he wishes you were sucking him off too. But he settles for watching you.

“That’s it, make sure you drool around him too; guys like it sloppy like that…” Ace moans, pulling your hair back as he guides your head.

“Y-Yeah,” Luffy’s voice cracks, “‘Like it when it’s all wet… hnn, shit-“ 

The Captain’s hips snap forward, his cock fucking your throat with Ace still controlling your head. You felt like a toy, so easily manipulated by these two men.

“Use your hands too,” Ace suggests, and you place your hands around what you can’t fit in your mouth, “Twist your hand when you suck him in.”

Luffy’s moan catches in his throat as he throws his head back, “F-Feels so good-! I might-“

Ace pulls your head off Luffy’s cock, and you’re left panting, a singular string of spit connecting your tongue to his throbbing shaft. Luffy almost cums from your lewd face alone.

“That was close, huh?” Ace chuckles. 

Though, his erection is getting more bothersome. It throbs uselessly in his underwear as he watches on, and he’s not sure how much more he can take. 

But an idea pops into his head. 

“Alright, last lesson,” he wets his lips, “Time to show you how to fuck a girl.”

Luffy’s eyes light up, “Oooh, okay!”

You look at Ace with a dark flush on your cheeks, and he smiles that charming smile of his, “That is if your girlfriend is okay with that…”

You bite your lip, “I-If it’s to show Luffy, then… it’s okay.”

Ace smirks, “Of course.”

The older man repositions himself so he’s no longer behind you but in front of you on his knees like you are. Luffy is behind him, still standing, watching intently. 

“Here,” Ace starts, gently laying you down, “You’re gonna want to treat her like a princess. But…” 

Ace makes quick work of unbuttoning his shorts and sliding out of them and his underwear. His cock bobs excitedly in the air, the tip flushed bright red. You don’t miss how precum leaks from his frustrated cock. 

“Make sure you ask how she wants to be fucked too. Even though you’re supposed to be gentle with girls, they sometimes like to be fucked like whores.”

You gasp at his words and whimper when he slides his swollen, wet head over your folds. 

“So tell me,” he smirks, “How do you want to be fucked?”

Your lips tremble, “Hard.”

Luffy scrambles to your side, sitting beside your head, “Don’t worry, Ace will do it right! And then I’ll try to do it even better!”

Ace chuckles, “Mm, we’ll see…”

With that, Ace pushes in, and you gasp at the stretch. He’s thick, making your hole adjust to his girth. 

“Oh, she’s tight-“ he hisses, lowering his head, “Feels really good-“

He lets out a drawn-out moan as he pushes inside, your walls clenching and pulsing around him. 

“N-Now, Luffy,” Ace starts, his voice trembling as he bottoms out, “You’re gonna want to aim for her g-spot, okay? That means you have to angle your hips up.”

As if testing the waters, Ace pulls out slowly before pushing back inside. Your eyes flutter shut, and you throw your head back. Luffy looks at you in awe, watching your face scrunch and contort in pleasure. 

“Her g-spot?” Luffy questions, tilting his head. 

“M-Mhm-“Ace stutters, already lost in your wetness, “you’ll know it when you feel it. It’ll make her feel really good.”

Luffy hums before looking back at where your body and Ace’s connected. 

“And you’re gonna want to be romantic still. Hold her hand while you fuck her.” Ace says, his own hand reaching for your right one. Luffy follows suit, taking your left hand in his. 

“Alright,” Ace starts, “Just watch for a bit; you’ll pick up fast.”

The older man takes your hip in his free hand, angling your hips upward before slamming in. You sharply gasp as he hits that sensitive spot within you dead on. 

Ace felt like a piece of shit for disguising his horniness as simple instruction, but fuck, you felt so good. It had been a while since he had sex, and you were perfect. The way your pussy wrapped around his cock, how your breasts jiggled as he pounded you, your cute voice gasping as he slammed in- it was all perfect. 

“Does it feel good?” Luffy asked, his hand tightening around your own.

“Yes-!” Your eyes roll back, “Yes, he feels so good, Luffy!”

Luffy stares, watching Ace snap his hips forward as if his life depended on it. The younger man then reaches for your clit, rubbing it slowly in circles, “And it feels better when I do this, right? ’Cause I wanna help too…”

You nod dumbly, “It feels good, Luffy… K-Keep rubbing it-!”

Luffy’s fingers speed up, and you toss your head back, drool escaping your lips as Ace’s cock hammers into you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Oh, you’re so wet-” Ace grits his teeth, “L-Luffy, make sure you… tell her how good she feels when you fuck her-“

Luffy nods eagerly, watching on.

The older man leans in close, his eyes locking with yours as his raspy voice meets your ears, “Mn, I wish I could fuck this little pussy of yours all the time. You’re so fucking wet and tight. Luffy’s really lucky…”

Your face glows with embarrassment at the man’s words, “A-Ace-”

His cock throbs inside you as his hips don’t let up, his cock’s head slamming into your most sensitive parts. Your chest rises and falls as he plunges into your pussy with great force. You cry out, legs seizing as he penetrates your depths.

“Mm, okay, I think I got it, Ace!” Luffy exclaims, and Ace’s hips stutter.

Shit, he was hoping he could cum from this, but he knew better than to push his luck.

Reluctantly, he pulls out of your heavenly pussy, leaving you to throb around nothing. You whined at the loss.

“Take a crack at it, Luff.”

Ace moves aside, releasing your hand. Luffy does the same, positioning himself between your legs. He rubs his pink tip over your slit before shoving himself inside, causing you to moan loudly.

“S-So- warm-!” He moans, tossing his head back, desperately humping your cunt, “O-Oh, it’s really wet, like your mouth was!”

Ace grabs your hand as he takes Luffy’s previous position. Luffy has his hands on your waist, his strokes pummeling your insides. 

Ace reaches between your legs with his free hand and spreads your lips, “Watch it go in and out of her…”

Luffy looks down, his eyes lidded as he watches his cock disappear inside you, “Feel the wet stuff… going down my balls- there’s so much…!”

You bit your lip at his obscene words, wet smacking sounds echoing throughout the room.

Luffy makes a lustful noise as his vision starts to grow hazy. He’s utterly pussy drunk already, fucking you recklessly. Your poor cervix would be bruised in the morning, but you didn’t care; you just wanted Luffy to fuck you.

“I-I’m gonna- “Luffy starts, “I’m gonna-!”

“Pull out- “Ace warns, and Luffy obeys, his cock angrily bouncing in the cool air. Luffy lets out a drawn-out whine.

“Aceeeee,” he pouts, “I was close! Why did I have to stop?”

“Because,” Ace smirks, “You gotta make her cum from your cock. Here…”

Ace shuffles so that he’s behind Luffy. The younger man looks behind him and blushes slightly when a large hand wraps around his base, guiding him to your folds.

“Tease her like this,” Ace bites his lip, dragging Luffy’s soaked tip over your clit, “Back and forth…”

Your legs tighten as Luffy’s head swipes over your needy clit, stimulating you slightly. You begin to squirm, and Ace laughs a bit.

“Now, let’s try it again…” Ace angles Luffy’s cock so it prods at your hole, and Luffy gets the message, taking your hips in his hands and dragging you forward, impaling you on his cock.

Luffy spreads your legs apart, allowing him to reach even deeper inside. 

“Remember, angle upwards,” Ace grabs Luffy’s hips and angles him just right, causing your eyes to roll back as Luffy resumes his hectic pace.

“So tight-!” Luffy grits his teeth as he fucks you like a wild beast, chasing his high while trying to get you off.

Luffy pants, throwing his head snack as he squeezes his eyes shut, “Can’t- Cant get enough! You feel so good! Wanna do this all the time now-“

To your surprise, Luffy pulls out, turns you around, and pushes you onto your knees before shoving your face into the pillows.

“Wanna do it like this-“ He growls, before forcing himself back inside, “Want to fuck you, just like this!”

You gasp loudly as suddenly his cock smashes your cervix. Your eyes look to the heavens as he shoves his cock inside, battering your womb.

“L-Luffy!”

“Take it all-!” He growls, slamming into you with a force you had never experienced.

Ace’s cock can’t take being neglected anymore. He sits to the side, watching you both, and doesn’t even bother hiding his newly busy hand. He bites his lip, freckled cheeks flushed as he watches Luffy fuck you from behind.

He was so jealous. He wanted to pound you with all that he had too. He wanted to ram into your deepest depths and make you squeal.

But all he could do was fuck his hand.

Ace watches on, your moans and squeals getting him riled up. His cock desperately throbbed, wanting nothing more than to be back inside your warmth. But he simply watched on, licking his lips as Luffy absolutely destroyed you.

And soon enough, your words cut through the lewd sounds.

“I-I’m cumming!” You moan out, “L-Luffy, I-I’m-!”

Luffy doesn’t slow down; he continues assaulting your tight folds until he bursts, filling you with a cracked moan. His warmth shooting inside triggers your orgasm, your cream coating his shaft as he thrusts in and out.

Ace grunts, his orgasm approaching quickly. He speeds up his hand so he won’t be left in the dust, and soon enough, he’s cumming after you both.

The room is silent save for your combined ragged breaths. Luffy eventually pulls out, his cum leaking out of your hole. He, with shaky hands, guides his tip back to your entrance and shallowly thrusts in and out, stuffing you full.

Ace laughs breathlessly, “Good, make sure none of it goes to waste…”

Luffy laughs gently along with him.

#one piece #one piece smut #x reader #cream's fics #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #monkey d luffy

[skipper1331]

Public? // Felicitas Rauch

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it:)

The tension was thick at home.

Felicitas loved you.

You loved Felicitas.

But that didn‘t change the fact that there was this strange atmosphere ever since the two of you had one of your biggest fight ever.

-

At the age of 15, Feli and you met.

At the age of 16, she asked you out on a date.

After several dates, you asked you to be her girlfriend - it took you some weeks to build up the courage to do so.

At the age of 23, Feli asked you to marry her.

At the age of 24, the two of you were happily married.

Both of you seemed to be happy - you were, but something in Felis mindset shifted which had led to your argument.

She hated that she couldn‘t wear her ring.

She hated that nobody knew she was married.

For the world, you didn’t exist - that‘s how many people knew about you.

You‘re her wife.

She wanted to show everybody how much in love she was with you.

She wanted to post pictures with you,

she wanted to hold your hand in public,

she wanted to be seen with you.

You‘re everything to her and nobody knew about it.

-

It started as a simple conversation.

"Liebe, can we talk about something?" the German asked, taking a seat in front of you. You looked up from your laptop, putting the pen down, so your complete attention was on her. "Is everything alright?" you questioned, a big frown displayed over your features. It was never a good sign to start conversations like that, "what‘s wrong?"

The defender took a deep breath before she answered straightforward, "be my wife." which came out ruder than intended.

Confused, you looked at her, "I am"

"You‘re not" she declared, her jaw tense.

"What‘re you talking about?" you closed your laptop, "does that mean nothing?" wiggling with your ringfinger.

"No" she didn‘t want to get mad but slowly anger started to float through her body, all her emotions discovering the surface, "because I can‘t wear mine!"

Taken back by her outburst, you matched her tone, "that‘s not my fault! You‘re the athlete, not me"

"You wanted us to be private!" her voice raised, "I could‘ve easily taped my ring" with her finger at the brick of nose, she tried to calm down. That’s not the way she wanted it to turn out - not at all.

"I want to be public" she stated, this time a much softer voice talking to you. The voice you could listen hours to.

"I don’t!"

With her voice level back angry and heart hurt, she growled, "Why not?!"

"I don‘t want to"

Your answer only made her angrier as she stood up and walked around the kitchen counter to pour herself a glass of water.

"That‘s not a reason!"

"You know what?!" leaving the chair, you gathered your notes, "I don‘t have to explain myself"

Feli could only watch as you took your laptop and walked away, in the direction of the front door.

Quickly, she followed you, stopping you in your tracks as she grabbed your wrist, her touch gentle, "Where are you going?"

"Away from you!" you felt so hurt, the insult of not being her wife. Was this whole marriage a joke to her?

"Y/n" she started, the hurt on your face visible for her, "please-"

"No, i got the message" you grumbled, "it‘s yours" angrily you took of the ring, slamming it down on the shelf.

Maybe it was childish to take off your ring but you felt helpless. She had been your girlfriend for many years and your wife for a few years, but never, never ever had she hurt you as much with a statement as she just did.

You left shortly after, Feli standing in the hall with an empty expression on her, your ring between her fingers.

She fucked up. She really did and she knew.

-

It was dark outside, 10 minutes before midnight and you still weren‘t home which made her anxious. The varnish of her nails was peeled off, her leg hobbling up and down and her mind racing with worst case scenarios.

Liebe❤️

When are you coming home?

please let me know

Even though you were hurt, you replied to her text. You hated it not reply to her texts and you could imagine how she was feeling, you hated it too when you didn’t know when she was coming home.

You

one hour.

Feli was laying in bed, anxiously watching the clock in your bedroom as she waited for you to come home. There was no way she would fall asleep before she knew you were safely at home.

Exactly an hour later, you opened the front door, walking into your home, eyes puffy and red. The defender didn’t leave the bed, she didn’t try to approach you nor talk to you. She wanted to let you be. Yet that didn‘t stop her from hoping you would join her in bed.

And you did.

Wordlessly you laid down, your back facing her. The German felt her heart sink, usually you would always cuddle her - she really had fucked up.

It took you about 20 minutes before you fell asleep, your body physically exhausted, Feli still wide awake. As your soft snores filled the room the defender was quick to decide what her next move would be. She couldn’t sleep without holding you, so that‘s what she did. Her arms snuggled around waist as she pulled you close, your body relaxing in her touch. She would make it up to you - that was a promise.

-

You woke up alone in bed, the wolfsburg player nowhere to be seen. Making your way out of bed, dressed in a oversized shirt and shorts, you walked in the kitchen, the smell of pancakes hitting your nostrils, "good morning" you muttered as you rubbed your eyes, taking on seat at the bar stool.

"Hey" the german whispered as she took you in, "I made you breakfast" she handed you the plate which was filled with pancakes.

"Thank you"

It was silent for a few moments.

"I‘m sorry" your wife started, "I’m so sorry. You‘re my wife no matter if the world knows that or not- I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I’m so sorry for insulting you like that" she inhaled sharply, turning to you as she gently interwined your fingers, "I love you. You are everything to me"

"Your comment hurt me" you whispered, your head falling against her shoulder as she instantly wrapped her arms around you. Silent tears streamed down your face as she mumbled sweet nothings in your ear.

"I‘m so sorry, baby" multiple kisses were pressed against your head, "I don’t wanna be public if you don‘t want to. I want you to be happy"

Her hands cupped your cheeks as she made you look at her, her eyes determined with her statement, "I love you"

-

"Can you tell me why you don‘t want to be public?" she asked one evening as she held you in her arms with the tv playing in the background. Her tone was gentle, understanding and as if she would accept every answer, she just had to know an answer.

"I like privacy"

And even though, it was indeed true that you enjoyed your privacy, the real reason to stay in secret was because you were afraid. You feared the public and their words. You didn‘t want your relationship to break down because her fans didn‘t like you or your looks or the fact that you don’t play nor enjoy football.

Just you and her.

-

The topic wasn‘t brought up again yet you could see how it killed Feli from day to day, how much it hurt her to take off her ring every morning. Her eyes stopped shining the way they used to, her smile didn‘t reach the corner of her eyes anymore - the light was missing.

She loved you, she really did and she still treated you like a princess but not wearing her ring, not having the opportunity to show you off left her heart in pain.

Which is why you did what you did one day after her training.

The defender came home with a smile tugged on her lips as she told you about her day.

After her story about the day, "I‘m going to shower, baby" she stated, pressing multiple kisses to your cheeks before she walked towards the bathroom, her phone resting on the kitchen counter.

When you heard the shower, it was safe to say that she wouldn‘t come out of the bathroom for at least 20 minutes.

Snatching her phone from the counter, you made yourself comfortable on the couch. Feli never had a problem if you take her phone, she had nothing to hide and was fully convinced that you would never control her which was true. Never ever would you stalk through her phone or anything, most of the time when you used her phone was for music, hay day or when she asked you to reply to someone. You trusted each other blindly and more than anything, so opening instagram, you did the thing that made her happy, hopefully.

You revealed your marriage with a simple post.

Within seconds her phone blew off, notification after notification.

feli_rauch

jule_brand and 20.364 others

feli_rauch 🤍

When Feli left the bathroom, you were happily cooking some dinner as music played softly in the background. You swayed with the beat, humming along the lyrics as you prepared your meal.

In the meantime Feli walked in the living room as she heard her phone ring constantly. What was happening?

And then she saw it.

Over a thousand notifications on instagram.

Why?

Your post.

"Liebe!" she yelled while she quickly entered the kitchen.

"Ye-" you‘re cut of as lips were pressed against your own, strong arms wrapping around your waist.

Feli kissed you with every inch of love in her body,

she kissed you with so much happiness,

she kissed you with a new found passion.

When air became a problem, you pulled away, the defender chasing after your lips for multiple pecks.

"What was that?" you asked, completely out of breath, lips swollen and chest heavily rising and falling.

Replying with "A thank you" she cupped your cheeks, thumb softly caressing it, "for the- that the world knows I‘m married and happily so"

your cheeks turned red, her gaze so intense as it was filled with love. She smiled brightly at you, a smile that reached the corner of her eyes.

"I‘m sorry for being so secretive, I was afraid of the outcome- the media and fans but I’m done with it. I love you and it‘s time for everyone to know" you stated in a firm voice, ready to fight the world if needed.

"I‘m so in love with you"

-

Since that day, there hasn't been a day where Felicitas took off her wedding ring. In games, she would tape it up, the same as in training. It was her good luck charm and everybody should know it.

—————

#feli rauch x reader #felicitas rauch x reader #feli rauch image #felicitas rauch image #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #gerwnt #gerwnt x reader #dfb frauen #dfb frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg #vfl wolfsburg women #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to lovers Part 2

A/N: this is now a multiple-part series.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.

Warnings: 18+ Only, cussing, angst, kissing

Word Count: 2k+

4 years later...

Dressed in your finest clothes with your suitcase in hand, you were ready to head to your family's home for a few days. The train was running a few minutes behind schedule today. Peaking your body and head forward a little, you saw the train before you heard the horn.

You happily stepped back, waiting for the train to come to a stop. You’ve wanted to get away for a while, and you knew spending time with your family would give you some relief. A smile was plastered on your face from the excitement.

People started to unload: parents with their children, lovers hand in hand, and many more.

You bent down to pick up your suitcase and started for the entryway to get on, but stopped once you saw him, Sherlock.

The smile you held dropped from your face. He got off with his brother, Mycroft, both of them talking and then looking around as if they were waiting to meet someone.

You took notice of who they were looking for—of course, Enola.

You took notice of how that relieved you; it made you feel better that it wasn’t another woman. It upset you that you still cared and that you still got jealous; you didn't want to, and you thought it had left, but seeing him again made you show how you still did.

Enola and you had kept in touch but weren’t as close anymore. The both of you would meet for lunch now and then.

Standing there, seeing them talk, you wanted to walk away; you needed to, but you were stuck and couldn't move. It was as if your feet were glued to the concrete. And then, with no warning, Mycroft noticed you, his eyes landing on you, and you knew you looked like a deer caught in headlights; your eyes bulged out.

You weren't breathing; you turned in a hurry before Enola and Sherlock turned to see that Mycroft noticed you.

Secretly hoping he didn’t realize it was you and that they wouldn't be able to tell from your back.

You were cursing the heels you decided to wear; you couldn’t walk fast enough as you were trying to push past multiple people, but you were failing.

All you could do was hope; they couldn’t tell it was you.

Sherlock looked at his brother, noticing Mycroft had turned his attention away. “What is it?"

He looked over at Sherlock. “Hm, your old lady friend was just here. I do have to say, she looked much better."

Sherlock gave a confused face, old lady friend. He thought. Who had he been speaking of?

Mycroft noticed his brother's turmoil. He rolled his eyes. “The one you always ran around with.” Mycroft looked at Enola and said, “She babysitted Enola."

Sherlock realized who he was speaking of now, and he turned his head in search of you, his eyes moving around the crowd of people. You were dressed differently, but he was able to tell it was you just from your backside.

He wanted to know why you were here—were you waiting for someone, maybe a lover?

He knew he had no right to be possessive over you, especially since he left you.

Enola tugged on him and said, “Come along; the carriage is waiting.” Sherlock nodded his head. But he took one look back; however, you were already gone.

“I’ll invite y/n over tomorrow for lunch,” Enola said with a big smile. Sherlock's stomach dropped at the thought. He was sure you would yell at him or hit him. And he wanted to have a conversation with you in private, but it felt too early.

Both Mycroft and Enola stared at Sherlock, waiting for his reaction. “Sound’s great. Can’t wait”

You rushed back home, slamming your door once you reached inside. You felt stupid; why did you rush away? You were over him. You decided a long time ago that you wouldn't allow him to upset you. But here you were, running away from him.

You put your hand on your forehead and started to hysterically laugh at yourself.

After you stopped, you wrote to your family to tell them you couldn’t make it. The excuse was horrible, and to make matters worse, a lie. You despised lying.

The next day, you dropped the letter off, and Enola found you: "Y/N, you must come to lunch with me at my home.” You were unsure of how to answer, "I don't think." Enola cut you off, making sure you weren't able to say no. "Great, I'll see you at 1."

You were left speechless as she left; of course, Enola would be able to find you. And get you to come to her house.

On the carriage ride to Enola’s house, you gave yourself a pep talk. You would only stay for lunch, maybe an hour? And then leave. And you certainly wouldn’t let Sherlock get under your skin; you just wouldn't pay any attention to him.

The home looked the same—more aged than the last time you were here four years ago.

You weren't alone for long before you could take another step. Enola was in front of you, pushing you to the dining room.

You expected to see Sherlock, maybe even Mycroft. But they were nowhere to be seen. “Sit, sit,” Enola excitedly said. “I have some biscuits for us," she said, pushing the tray full of desserts toward you.

Enola and you talked for what felt like hours.

She smiled at you. “I like this change.” She looked at you up and down. You turned your head in confusion about her comment; you hadn't thought you changed that much; you dressed differently; you were more socially acceptable; but that was all.

“Your style but attitude as well.”

You laughed at Enola but thanked her.

Soon after you heard multiple footsteps enter, you turned your head on instinct. As soon as you saw him, your laughter faded. “I do have to say, you look like a lady.” A dig from Mycroft was expected.

You rolled your eyes. “Pleased to see you as well, Mycroft,” you said with a small fake smile.

Sherlock didn't say a word, and neither did you. But the way he looked at you said a thousand. “I enjoyed this Enola. Thank you for the desserts and for making my afternoon. I’m afraid I must go."

“NO! Sorry, would you mind staying with Enola? Me and Mycroft just need a couple of more minutes.”

You were stunned when he shouted, but you agreed to stay with her.

Most of the time, you were in your head, not paying attention to her like you should’ve. All you could think of was Sherlock. You needed to talk to him; it was eating you alive.

Once you heard his office door shut and Mycroft leave, you told Enola that you’d be back soon and headed toward Sherlock's office.

Sherlock heard his door open and shut again. “Need something else, Mycroft?”, He didn’t receive a response.

So he turned his head and saw you standing against the door, speechless.

He coughed, "Y/N, how may I help you?” Sherlock was having a hard time looking at you.

"You... you actually can’t help me at all," you said, and he raised his face.

“After I say this, I am going to leave, and you won’t see me again; you don’t deserve to see me again."

He swallowed, getting ready for what you were going to say. Sherlock knew he deserved every insult and every hurtful word you would give him.

“You left me. You left me with only a letter; I couldn't believe that you didn't tell me in person. I waited for you all night. Once I saw the sun rising, I knew you were indeed a coward. A coward who didn't love me. A person who loves you wouldn't have done what you did."

Tears started to brim.

“I saw a life with you. And I thought.. " you sarcastically, let out a chuckle. “I thought you saw one with me too. But I realized I was just another fling to you.” You shook your head at him. “But just answer me: why would you let our relationship bloom just for you to let it go without a problem?"

Sherlock stared at you wide-eyed. “I am first and foremost a detective; I have always been that and never said otherwise. And I admit, I regret and have regretted the way I left you. You deserved more than that. But I loved you, and I still do. With every part of my being.” Sherlock patted his chest, where his heart was. “I couldn't let you go, not after that night. That night, you became mine. I knew what would happen, but I didn’t care. I was selfish. I am a very selfish man when it comes to you. There are things I regret, but I don’t regret keeping you to myself. And I never will.”

Sherlock walked towards you.

Your eyes stayed on him. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave now."

But your feet didn’t move; you were stuck in your place by his eyes that were blazing within.

“Okay, take your leave,” he said, and you nodded your head. Sherlock took notice that you weren't moving, reached behind you, and opened the door.

As your eyes didn't leave him, they spoke a thousand words you couldn’t say to him. Sherlock clenched his jaw, waiting for your next move to see if you would leave.

He slammed the door shut and grabbed you by your face, kissing you with passion. He pressed his body against yours. "Sherlock,” you whispered.

He didn't want you to speak; he wanted to kiss you. He never wanted to stop kissing you. He feared that if he did, you would leave and he wouldn't see you again, just as you said earlier.

You knew what was going to happen if you stayed; you were deciding what you should do.

“y/n, stay with me. please. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I have to go. If I stay, I’ll be the one who ends up hurting again.” You backed away from him and left. You said your goodbyes to Enola and tried to rush home.

Sherlock caught you outside. “Fuck, please stay. I’m begging.” He got down on his knees and hugged the lower part of your body. “I thought of you as someone who would never hurt me, but you did. You can’t just say sorry and beg me and think that’ll make up for your actions."

A tear fell from your eye, and Sherlock rose to his feet. “Are you going to forgive me?”

You put your hand on his cheek. “You need to earn my forgiveness."

He ran his hand through his head of curls. And shook his head continuously. “Let me at least see you home”, “No, you stay, and I’ll go. Have a good night, Sherlock.”

As you returned home, you were torn.

You wanted to forgive him, and he had you so close to letting that happen. You wanted to stay with him and forget the past. The other part of you was happy that you left; he needed to stir, and he needed to be without you.

Sherlock had many sleepless nights, but this one was the worst of all. All he thought of was you. His hands didn’t leave his hair, countlessly running them through and tugging on his stands. He started thinking of what he could do to earn your forgiveness. To get you back within his reach.

He hadn’t realized how long he had stayed up until he left his office and saw the morning sun. With the bright rays burning his eyes, he shielded himself from the sun.

Sherlock sat at the table, staring off into nothingness.

He heard a voice. “What are you going to do about her?"

Sherlock looked behind him and saw Mycroft. “That lady you seem to be interested in, what are you going to do?"

Sherlock only had one answer.

“Anything.”

Part 3

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill #first post #sherlock holmes #angst #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #mini series

[usernameforaboredcat]

Black & Red (Shanks X F!Reader X Mihawk) SMUT

Anonymous request (I got chu)

Just a simple day at the beach drinking turns into something way more hot and steamy than expected.

A long fic, have fun babes

Warning ⚠️: age-gap, threesome, groping, double penetration, deep throating, maybe some others that I forgot idk its sex ya know the type of shit youre signing up for.

“Shaaaanks, come on! It’s too early to drink, we’ll be up all night again”.

“Don’t worry about it so much sweetheart! It’ll be fun!”.

That’s the last coherent conversation I remember before getting shit faced and passing out on a beach with Shanks. No matter how many times I tell myself ‘you gotta stop doing this, I don’t care how hot he is I can’t be drinking this much’ but do I ever listen? No of course not! Have you see him? That man is so hot and fine, all I can do is easily submit to anything he asks. I mean it's not the first time he's easily made me submit to something, which ended in a lot of hookups or alleyway deepthroating. Hehe...

I awaken from my slumber as I feel myself being shaken. “Wakey wakey sweetheart”. I hear an all too familiar and soothing voice. I groan and snuggle more into his chest. “Nooo. You made me drink and gave me a hangover”. I mumble. “Does it make you feel better knowing that I have one too?”. He asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“A little”.

~

I yawn as I walk back to the cove the crew was camping at, coming back from some private business time…I had to pee. I see the crew already partying and drinking again. Seriously? “Hey! (Y/n)!”. I look towards Shanks, seeing him drinking with an unfamiliar man with a large sword sitting next to him, a long coat and a large hat. “Have you ever heard of the 7 warlords?”. Shanks asks me, the man turning to look at me. “Uh yeah…I’ve heard of them…”. I answer nervously, I think I already know where this is going before he can even finish. “This is Mihawk! An old buddy of mine! He’s one of the warlords”. He explains, using his free hand to usher me over.

I walk over to the two men, Shanks pulling me over to sit on his lap. "Come on (Y/n), don't be shy now and say hi!". He tells me, as if I'm a child. Sir, I'm 20. I turn to look at the warlord, man is he an attractive man. "Hello". I greet him. "Hello, young lady". He greets back. I turn to look up at Shanks, tugging on his shirt to draw his attention to me. "So what's this about? Why are we partying again?". I ask him, tilting my head slightly. He smile and laughs. "Ya know that Luffy kid I told you about? He finally got his first wanted poster!". He answers happily.

I remember him talking about that Luffy kid. Shanks told me how he met him years ago, the dumb little kid who cut his cheek and ate the gum gum fruit. He isn't any younger than me, the more I think about that the more it kinda makes me feel weird. Still, I'd like to meet him one day.

"Huh, look at him". I mutter under my breath, but I know Shanks heard me. As if the conversation is forgotten about, Shanks now holding out a filled cup of booz to me. "Enough yappin! Take a sip, dear". He orders me. 'Uh, I really don't wanna drink'. I take the cup from him, taking a sip from it. "Atta girl". He coos, his hand now sitting on my hip, rubbing up and down with his thumb. I feel a shiver runs down my spine, the feeling of his hand running straight to my core. He knows exactly what he's doing, he knows how to get my body going.

'God, I hate him'.

~

My breath quickens as I feel a jolt run through my body, whimpers slipping through my lips no matter how hard I try to hide them. "Ssshhh, not so loud baby". Shanks whispers into my ear, his finger not stopping it's abuse on my clit. I throw my head back into his board shoulder. "Sh-Shanks, pleeeease~". I whimper out. "Hm? Please what? Need me to fuck you already?". He asks in a deep tone, his hot breath down my neck. "I-hhh I!". I stumble on my words, needing him to give me just a second to cum. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Shanks". I feel my body freeze, but Shanks doesn't stop. "Oh, hey Mihawk". He pulls his hand away, my legs giving out and I collapse to the forest floor.

"What's up? You leaving already?". Shanks asks the other man. "I was thinking that, yes". Mihawk confirms. "Oh come on, you just got here. Why not have a little fun with (Y/n) and I? I don't mind sharing that pretty face". He offers the man. 'HUH!?'. I turn my head behind me, looking over to the men. I look over to Mihawk, seeing that he's already looking at me dead in the eyes with a hungry look. "You're too open with sharing your toys, Shanks". He comments, taking his sword off his back and setting it against a nearby tree. The two men walk over to me, Mihawk standing in front of me as I feel Shanks crouch behind me. "You don't mind, do you sweetheart?". Shanks asks me, pulling me back so my back is against his hard chest, using his hand to rub my chin. "N-No". I stutter out nervously, looking up into Mihawks almost glowing eyes.

Shanks chuckles as his hand goes down to my shirt, pulling it up to expose my bare chest. "Good girl~". He hums into my ear, nuzzling into my neck. I shiver and shut my eyes as Shanks's cold hand goes down to my chest, groping and grabbing at my tit. I let out a soft moan, feeling him twist and play with my nipple. Shanks's head rises once again, nibbling on my ear lobe. "Come on baby, show the war lord what that mouth of yours can do". He orders. I hum with a nod, finally opening my eyes to look up at the warlord.

I break eye contact to see a growing bulge in his pants, only half hard. I grab the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down. His half hard shaft rises up slightly, hanging straight out from his body. I reach up and grab him by the base, Mihawk letting out a very quiet groan. I lean forward and close my lips over his tip, licking his tip. I look back up to look into Mihawks eyes, slowly moving my head back and forth as she stares down at me. "Oh don't try and ease me into, unless Shanks hasn’t taught you properly”. He comments in an unimpressive tone.

Shanks chuckles from behind me, his hand sneaking up to the back of my head. “She can take it, I have her working that throat of hers every night like the slut she is”. He responds, gripping my head and moving my head for me. I moan into Mohawks cock as Shanks moves my head for me, shoving me down on his cock more. I cough as I feel myself getting shoved deep down, feeling him deep down my throat. Shanks moves his hand away, but I keep the pace he set and continue to deep throat his cock. “That’s better”. Mihawk compliments. “Yeah, she’s a good girl, aren’t ya sweetheart”. Shanks chuckles, sliding his hand down my back. My body jolts when I feel Shanks’s hand back in my panties, running his finger through my wet folds.

My body shivers as I feel Shanks use a free finger to poke it in and out of my aching pussy, causing me to just need more friction. My body was already so close to being filled, but now we're back to square one. My body is tingling painfully, needing release finally. I start to moan painfully onto Mihawks cock, breathing through my nose quickens as tears build up in my eyes. I try to move my body, needing more than just the tip of Shanks's fingers inside me. "Shanks, your pet is getting restless". Mihawk tells the red head. Shanks chuckles. "I can tell, she's trying to suck my fingers in". He confirms. Mihawk then grips the back of my head aggressively, speeding up his pace and slamming down into my throat. "Don't worry dear, you can get fucked as much as you want once I'm finished". He tells me, his penis tip punching the back of my throat.

Shanks chuckles again. "Look at you, you'll get all the cock you want. I bet a whore like you is loving this". He whispers into my ear. "I can't wait to see you drenched with cum". He adds in a deeper tone, licking up my neck. "Take it, take Mihawks cum, take all the cum like I trained you to". I shut my eyes as tears spill from my eyes, struggling terribly to breath. My body feels like it's going to explode, ready to gush all over Shanks's hand. With a few twitches of his cock, Mihawk slams all the way down my throat his warm cum fills up my throat. I cough on the cum, gulping it down. Mihawk slowly pulls out his dick, sucking on the left to leave not a single drop. "Good slut". Shanks compliments. "You did train her good, I commend you that Shanks". Mihawk tells him. "Wait till you feel her pussy, perfection". Shanks respond.

Shanks pulls his hand away from me as I let out an annoyed whimper, pushing my body slightly to let my body fall to the ground on my hands and knees. I breath heavily as I try to catch my breath, my body shaking and loosing its mind from not be able to cum again. A cold hand on my ass makes me jump, I look lazily over my shoulder to see Mihawk kneeling behind me. I turn to look in front of me, looking up to see Shanks looking down at me with a smirk. He gently grabs my chin, rubbing it with his thumb as his smirk turns into a loving smile. "You're such a good girl, if I wasn't clingy I'd let people pay for them to fuck you. You're perfect mouth, pussy, ass, everything. Other men wish they could get one night with a goddess like you". He praises, his words going straight to my core. The mental image of getting fucked and covered in cum while Shanks watches, full bukaki as he just sits happily.

"Would you like that? Or would you rather some weak desperate men pay to watch me fuck you, show them how to really please a woman". He adds. That hit my core harder, Shanks cucking a guy. Some poor bastard watching Shanks fill and fuck my pussy full of cock and cum. I feel a warm tip rub against my folds, rubbing at my tip and poking at my hole. "Go ahead Mihawk, I wanna see the faces she makes when being filled by another man". He tells the other man. Then without warning, Mihawk easily slides his cock fully inside me. A whimpered moan escapes my lips, my legs shaking at the feeling of being filled finally. "Now isn't that a pretty face". Shanks points out, palming himself through his pants. "Sh-Shanks~". I whimper out, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I need...yoooooou". I moan out, craving more. I struggle to keep my body steady as Mihawk ruthlessly pounds into my body, slamming deep inside me. It feels weird to have another cock inside me, being so used to Shanks monster in his pants. Mihawks length is kind of refreshing, feeling his tip slamming into my curvix.

Shanks chuckles as he looks down at my wanting face, eyes begging for something from him. "You really have been a whore all along, being stuffed with cock and still needing more". He hums. He sits up more, pulling his pants down and his cock smashing me in the face. "Go on then, take the cock you so desperately need". He tells me. He slides his cock into my mouth, my body quickly jolting back and forth. I moan onto Shanks's cock, breathing rapidly through my nose. I can't breath, my body is shaking so much. 'FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AND WE'VE JUST STARTED! FUCK BUT I NEED TO CUM!'. I give in, moaning loudly as my body finally releases as my body shakes violently. Mihawk hisses, pounding faster. "What's wrong buddy? She cum and squeeze ya?". Shanks asks him. "Indeed, she's trying to strangle me". He responds, causing Shanks to laugh.

"Props to you, I would have cum at her clenching like that". He chuckles. "You're just weak". Mihawk comments. I'm surprised I can still comprehend what they're saying, my whole body is weak and my head is fuzzy. I can't go on, cumming and still being fucked is driving my body crazy. I can tell that I'm finally giving out, because now I can't hear properly what the two are saying. Everything stops, feeling arms wrap under my legs and I get hoisted up with Shanks's cock popping out my mouth. I feel my back press against Mihawks chest, him holding me out spread legged. I see Shanks standing in front of me, he strokes my cheek loving me. "Sh-Shanks...". I pant out. He pulls his hand away, letting me lean my head against Mihawks shoulder.

My body jolts, fulling waking up at the feeling of Shanks sliding into my insides. I pant at the pain, reaching to grip hard onto Shanks shoulder. "That's it, you can take it". Shanks reassures me in a soft tone. My body relaxes, feeling the two men filling and stretching me out. My body felt so stuffed, I thought I was going to rip in half. The feeling didn't get any better when the two started to thrust in sync, thankfully going slow on me. Every breath was a loud moan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Their pace speeds up, my mouth drooling from them massing up my insides. The feeling is indescribable, being fucked hard and stuffed to the brink of ripping. I felt like I was gonna pass out, I don't even know if I could cum again.

Their paces speed up, going full speed in and out my pussy. I cry and scream out my moans, digging my nails so hard against Shanks's shoulders that I wouldn't be surprised if there was blood. I could feel my freedom apporting, feeling the two older men twitching and their thrusts growing sloppy to out of sync. Next minute, Shanks lets out a groan as he finally cums. He sits and stays there panting, staying inside me. Soon enough, Mihawk cums again for a second time. The two pull out of me, Mihawk moving me to be laying in his arms. I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out, my brain fuzzy and hazy. A warm hand strokes my face softly, a soft kiss on my forehead. "Good job baby, you can rest". Shanks soft voice luls me to sleep, I finally pass out in Mihawks arms.

[bonus]

The two older men walk out the forest and back onto the beach, the other pirates noticing the passed out younger girl in Mihawks arms. "Is she okay?". Benn asks. "Did something happen?". Yasopp asks. Shanks waves them off. "Don't worry she's all fine, just a little shaken up". He reassures. "Why? Did something happen?". Benn asks. Mihawk chimes in. "Just some scary monster".

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece shanks #one piece shanks x reader #one piece shanks x reader smut #one piece mihawk #one piece mihawk x reader #one piece x reader smut #red haired shanks #red haired shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader smut #dracula mihawk #dracula mihawk x reader #dracula mihawk x reader smut

[astarion-approves]

drabble req? :) would love to see some astarion working on comforting or patching up tav/reader — there’s a lot of hurt/comfort in the other direction out there but soft!astarion is so cute :’) love your work btw! <3

Astarion x GN! Reader drabble (695 words)

SFW, Astarion POV, third person POV, Fluff, shitty pep talks (which I am also not great at,) no patching up but it's kinda cute anyway. A touch of jealous Gale

----

“Astarion,” Gale began, the human always tiptoeing around him since the beginning. “Could you…” He shook his head, the man looking unsure with his next words. “Could you check in on Tav?”

Astarion sighed and closed his book, his eyes flicking to the fireplace where Tav sat alone and poked at the fire. “And just why would I do that?”

“Look,” Gale clenched his teeth together, looking over his shoulder to where Tav sat before looking to Astarion once more. “They obviously have feeling for you—“

“Hah! Well that's no surprise. After all, no one can deny my charms—“

“And you obviously have feelings for them.” Gale’s tone was firm, his eyes harsh as he glared back at the vampire, a tint of jealousy swimming beneath it.

Astarion tossed his book into his tent, his arms coming to cross over his chest as he glared right back at Gale. “And so what if I do?!” Now he swung his hands in front of himself, gesturing past Gale and to where Tav still sat. “What the hell do you expect me to do!? Go over there and tell them everything is going to be okay?! That all of the evil in the world will never get to them because I’ll protect them from it?! That these fucking tadpoles in our brains mean no harm and that we’ll all live happily ever after?!”

“Yes,” Gale replied. “That is exactly what I expect you to do.”

Astarion dropped his arms to his sides, pouting at Gale’s answer. He sighed. “Fine!”

Shoving past Gale he made his way to Tav, rubbing his now injured shoulder. He may have overreacted just a tiny bit, but the way Gale stumbled from his shoulder check was worth it.

“Hello, Tav,” Astarion sat down beside them without an invitation.

“Hey.” They gave Astarion a small smile but turned their attention back to the fire.

“I think it’s best if we’re just honest with one another here,” Astarion said with a shrug. “Being friends and all.”

Tav only hummed in reply.

For a moment Astarion let his facade drop. Usually Tav would be eager to chat with him, truly, about anything and everything. To see them pay more attention to the fire than his gorgeous self— something really was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Tav? Tadpole hosting a private party in your skull?”

Tav snorted, another smile gracing Astarion and giving his heart a little flutter knowing that he managed to earn a real smile from them. “Everything?” Tav answered. “Just… everything.”

“Well-“

“And you don’t have to tell me that we’ll live happily ever after.”

“Look at you! Eavesdropping on a private conversation? I’m so proud.”

They didn’t reply this time, just focusing on the flames as they danced in front of them, burning down the pile of wood and sparking as Tav added another log.

“No, things won’t end happily ever after,” Astarion broke the silence as he spoke, his voice soft. “I think that much was obvious the moment we were abducted by fucking mind flayers.”

“Some pep talk—“

“Give me a moment, I’m not accustomed to cheering a person up!”

Tav laughed, but gestured for Astation to continue. “Okay, sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Astarion bumped their arm into Tav’s. “Now, where was I—“

“Happily ever after, or lack thereof.”

“Right, our eventual demise.”

“Astarion—“

“Look, I’m not good at this, clearly. We’re all bound to die some day, but it’s how we spend our days before the end that matters. You can’t give into these feelings of darkness that haunt you, the urge to give up when things get tough. I’m here for you, everyone in this strange camp of weirdos is here for you— and if you’re hurting all you have to do is say something and we’ll do what we can. Shitty pep talks included.”

Tav nodded and tossed their stick into the fire, no longer playing with the flames that beckoned them. “I’m hurting.”

“I know, darling,” Astarion said and put his arm over their shoulder, pulling them closer. “I can’t change the world, all I can do is be here for you… and I hope it’s enough.”

#bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #Astarion x you fanficiton #baldurs gate fanficiton #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #third person #Astarion POV #fluff #comforting #astarion #velvet writing

[wileys-russo]

"Let's never speak of this again!" with mearps in the zoo?

mary earps

"oh and look they have two kinds of elephants!" you gasped shoving your phone in your girlfriends face who hummed with an amused smile, knowing there wasn't a point in her saying anything anyway since you were so caught up in your excitment.

"you're such a nerd man, they're just animals!" ella turned around with a laugh from the seat in front as you shot her a filthy look, alessia tugging her back down as you huffed.

"ignore her love. what else do we need to see?" mary squeezed your knee to gain your attention back, your head falling to her shoulder as you flipped from the zoo website to your notes app running her through your ideal itinerary.

"you realise we have like the whole day yeah? we don't have to rush, i'm sure loads of people can see it all in a few hours." mary smiled as you stressed how you didn't want to miss out on anything, the goalkeeper kissing your cheek affectionately.

"look, babies!" you perked up as esme dangled over the back of your seat showing you a live feed of the new lion cubs as you gasped and the two of you fell into conversation, the blonde probably the only person as excited as you were for today.

"alright alright jesus you're gonna yank my hand off woman!" mary groaned as the bus parked up and the girls made their way off, your hand firmly gripping onto marys as you dragged her toward the entrance much to the amusement of everyone else.

"yeah we need those hands thanks, safest hands in england!" rachel yelled after the two of you with a grin. "okay baby. where to first?" mary chuckled once the pair of you were inside, a map tucked into her back pocket.

you'd claimed you'd stared at it on your phone long enough to know the zoo like the back of your hand but mary knew you too well and wanted to be as prepared as possible.

the first couple of hours you spent dragging your girlfriend from animal to animal, rattling off fact after fact much to her amusement and the rest of the girls annoyance and it didn't take long until it was just the two of you.

"see? my plan worked." you sang out with a grin as you and mary stood alone watching the otters, the goalkeeper sending you a funny look. "i knew if i waffled on about the animals enough everyone would leave us alone, much more romantic." you beamed, mary letting out a laugh of surprise.

"oh you're evil, i love you so much." the girl tugged you into a kiss, both of you pulling away with a smile as mary interlocked your fingers and the two of you strode off toward the next animal.

marys grin grew as you both waved at a small group of your united teammates, the girls waving back but making no move to join you much to her pleasure. "see? like our own private zoo date." you winked, the taller girl kissing your cheek.

"did i already tell you i love you?"

though your facts may have driven everyone else up the wall mary genuinely enjoyed learning more about each animal and seeing the way your eyes lit up when she'd asked a question.

your childhood dream had always been to work with animals but once you did a back gate keeper for the day tour of london zoo and realised the job was ninety percent cleaning up after them you were grateful to have chosen football instead.

arriving to the aquatic section was when the dynamic flipped, mary now the one to rattle off fact after fact about the different types of penguins and seals, her interests in whales meaning she'd watched an endless amount of oceanic documentaries.

in fact much to your friends endless teasings that was how most of your date nights when you'd choose to stay in would go, the pair of you happily curled up together on the sofa eating a takeaway and watching some sort of animal documentary.

marys david attenborough impression was even getting better by the day.

pausing your travels to eat lunch with the team you both settled back in with the group, your animal facts banned from the table as you rolled your eyes but indulged their wishes. instead you took ella and maya up on a game of finger football, taking turns to kick a small ball of rubbish through goals made with one anothers hands.

taking an easy victory and leaving behind a fuming tooney for alessia and katie to deal with you and mary eagerly left the group behind again, making a beeline for the africa section.

elephants were your favorite animal and mary knew this, watching on with disgustingly lovesick eyes as the two of you spent well over a half an hour watching them.

next up was the tigers and with the zoo closed to the public for the day and most of the girls having started at this section it once again left just you and mary alone together, the taller girl hugging you tightly from behind as your intertwined hands sat against your stomach.

the two of you watched as two of them began to playfight, mary making quick work of commentating in her infamous attenborough impression, heart swelling at the sound of your laugh.

only it took a split second for the two of you to realise they weren't play fighting, yet you were both seemingly unable to drag your eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of you, wide eyed with both terror and curiosity.

once they'd finished there was a tense silence between the two of you, mary letting go as you spun around to face her. "did we just watch two tigers have sex?" you questioned bluntly as the goalkeeper nodded.

"yep, like a couple of perverts." mary confirmed, another silence falling as you both opened your mouths and spoke again at the same time before hurrying away.

"lets never speak of this again!"

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso community #engwnt #woso blurbs

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 18th

Day 18: Sensory Deprivation Gags, Service Top/Power Bottom, Bloodplay

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, kink shaming?, Tom being a douche, mentions of drinking, tipsy Frankie, assumed prior consent, oral sex (female receiving), sex toys, slight exhibitionism

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It never fails that a conversation with the guys has to include sex of some kind. Even if it's just ribald jokes and busting each other’s balls as they drink beer out in your backyard around the firepit. It’s one of those nights. The jokes have come out in force since announcing that you and Frank were expecting, all the men who had served in Delta Squad A congratulating your husband on his virility, his obvious prowess in the bedroom while you just hummed happily at the very real prospect of the newest addition to the Morales household. 

“Fish, what the fuck is this?” The slider to the house closes behind Tom and he holds up a book that you know for a fact was tucked into Frankie’s nightstand before the guys came over. You know because you had put it away. 

“What the fuck? Did you go through my nightstand?” Frankie frowns, seeing the book in his former team leader’s hands. He moves a hand up to push the brim of his hat up and scratch his hair underneath before he pulls it back down, a little embarrassed.

Tom ignores the question, obviously having committed the crime since he had been the one in the house and turns to the book to read the title. “Powering From the Bottom.” He reads out loud. “How To Be a Service Top.” His tone is incredulous and he snorts as he looks back at your husband. “Jesus Christ, Fish, wanna tell us something?” 

You hiss in anger, watching your husband squirm uncomfortably. Tom is one of those fuckers who believe that macho men have to be dominant, constantly the ‘head of household’ and would never, ever, be a service top. 

“Red-” 

“Maybe you should read it, Tom.” You speak up, not wanting Frankie to fight this battle alone. It’s not really any of his goddamn business what happens in your bedroom, but since he wants to embarrass your husband, you think you’ll just embarrass him. “Maybe you can figure out why Molly left you.” 

It’s amazing how quickly the air seems to go completely silent. Even the fire decides it’s not going to speak up and crackle. “What did you just say?” Others might be intimidated by the former soldier’s narrowed gaze, but you aren’t. Fuck Tom. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, taking another sip of your punch. “Told me that she hadn’t had an orgasm from sex with you in nearly eight years.” You snort. “Just that you climb on top of her and ride her for forty-five seconds and think that you’ve done her some sort of favor.” 

“Babe-” Frankie frowns and moves over towards you. Wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you towards him. You know why he’s doing it. One, to get your attention. Two, to remind Tom that you are his wife. Tom’s a hothead and you are pushing his buttons in front of a group of people. But he brought this on himself. 

“No, baby.” You shake your head and turn towards Frankie, kissing the bare patch of skin on his jaw. “He started this.” Looking back at Tom, you huff. “Do you even know what a Service Top is? It means that his focus, his priority is my pleasure. He gets off on making sure that I’m very well taken care of.”  You hand slides protectively over your stomach, reminding everyone that you are pregnant, that it obviously works for you. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. And I bought that book for my husband as a joke, a private one.” You announce to the group. “Yes, he is reading it, but I want to know how you found it when it was tucked into his nightstand in our bedroom?” 

You’ve got him there and everyone knows it. Tom scowls, not happy with the way that you’ve neatly turned this around on him and huffs. “I was just fucking around with him.” He grumbles, tossing the book down into one of the chairs and looks around the group. “What? Drink your beer.” He tells them, annoyed at being called out and even more annoyed that he doesn’t know if you were lying about what Molly said or not. 

You smirk and hum to yourself, feeling Frankie’s fingers pressing into your side as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. You know that your husband is ten times the man that Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis is, and you’ll be damned if you won’t fight for him as hard as he protects you. 

**** “Baby, I want you.” It’s not surprising that Frankie is pressing up against you, his cock rock hard against your ass the second you climb into bed with him. He’s more than a little tipsy and he always wants sex when he’s been drinking. “So fucking sexy.” He groans, kissing the back of your neck and immediately pushing his hands under your shirt to cup your breasts gently. His touch has been lighter since they have been sensitive, but it’s perfect. “Defending me. Want to make you feel good, want to make you scream my name for everyone to hear.” 

The rule of the Morales house was that anyone who drank too much, stayed. Keys were put away and the guest bedrooms and the couches were put to use. No one needed a DUI to pull them off the team or god forbid, kill someone. Even Tom had stayed, since he had one too many. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, smirking when his answer is rocking his cock against your ass. As if showing you how sure he was. “Let me eat your pussy.” He begs, thumbing  your nipple and not pinching since that would make you hiss in pain. 

Frankie’s tongue is magic and you moan softly, making him twitch against you. He loves eating you out, making you cum on his tongue and sometimes would want to just do that, because you weren’t up for sex. He didn’t care, he just wanted you to cum. 

“You want to show all of them how you take care of your girl?” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and he’s practically salivating at the idea. 

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Want to - fuck, you want your toy? Your dildo inside you while I play with your clit? Want you so wet for me when I slide inside you.” 

He always knows exactly what you enjoy, taking note of everything that makes you pant or moan for him. It’s exactly why Frankie is a service top. He’s always in control of you in the bedroom, but rather than using you for his own pleasure. He gets pleasure from your satisfaction. 

With your pregnancy, Frankie has become more attentive than normal. Maybe a little sloppy because of the alcohol, but he’s still bringing his A game. Kissing and nibbling on your thigh while he slowly works the toy in and and out of your lips, he waits until you are breathless to latch onto your clit. 

“Frank!” You know your cry is loud, unwilling to censor yourself in your own home, and wanting those that had heard Tom try to shame him hear how much you enjoy Frankie as a lover. Not faking it, but not holding back. 

Your fingers twist into his longer curls and you love looking down to find his dark brown eyes fixed on your face. Watching as he slowly tears you apart with his tongue and the motion of the toy rocking deeper into your grasping walls. 

Every moan spurs him on, every sigh a sign that he should suck more, nibble or pull back just based on the sound of it. Reading your reactions and your body like a book and adjusting to make sure that you are soaking the toy and the bed beneath you with the evidence of how well Frankie treats you. 

HIs own hums and moans vibrate deep into your pussy, making it throb and clench even more as he works you over. Fully aware of the power that he has over you and even if he is giving, he is also taking from you as well. Taking your sounds, taking the way your hips roll down to chase his tongue. Taking every pulse of slick that gushes from your cunt. He takes all of it with the pride that makes his cock leak into the bed under him. 

You know that some of this is a lesson to everyone in the house around you. None of them, except maybe Tom, are asleep yet. You had just gone to bed when the moaning started. The breathless sighs of his name and the slight begging orders of ‘more’ that seem to fall from your lips every time Frankie slides between your thighs. 

Your cry of pleasure when you fall apart is just that. Pure pleasure. Pleasure from the way that his tongue laps at your clit and pleasure in knowing that you are proving to everyone how being a service top isn’t being weak. It’s the most powerful that a man can be. 

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales

[maximotts]

𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 • 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓 & 𝑛. 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: I don't have anything to say about this except uh.. I love this massive beast of a fic and I hope y'all love it too. Thanks to all of you who were patient and understanding about me having to step away from posting this AU publicly, this is for y'all 💖

warnings: This is an 18+ AU, minors DNI; smut, oh so much smut; strap-on use (r receiving); oral; spanking; degradation; a bit of humiliation for the funsies; mommy/daddy kink; face sitting; overstim; pet names; top!Natasha; switch!Wanda; soft aftercare and feelings at the end

words: 6.6K

summary: Private Hire AU; it was finally time for you to get your reward... if the sight of your bosses fucking don't kill you first

private hire au. || main masterlist.

Natasha hadn’t really waited for a response, directing you both to their shared master bedroom with a firm but gentle tug on your arms. You’d followed silently, your head too full to focus on whatever conversation the two women a few feet ahead of you were having. Natasha had clicked the heavy bedroom door closed behind you, a singular crook of her finger taking you away from where you hovered by the wall. “There’s nothing to be scared of sweetheart, no one here is going to harm you.” The sincerity in the redhead’s eyes was so intense you nearly looked away, but still, you trusted her.

Turns out Natasha didn’t think Wanda needed much kindness. 

You didn’t remember how exactly Natasha had stripped Wanda of her clothes, but it didn’t matter. All of that was easy to forget when the brunette was riding the silicone toy strapped to her wife’s bare hips so perfectly. She braced herself with her hands on Natasha’s shoulders and selfishly, you hated how it blocked the full view of Wanda’s breasts as she rocked back and forth. “Fuck, right there—”

The noises she made confirmed how close she was; something about Natasha exercising her cruelty in the bedroom never failed to drive Wanda to near insanity. Maybe because only Natasha would ever wield such power over her; she could safely let go and be at the redhead’s mercy without fear that she’d use that same power to undermine her either in their marriage or with others. Natasha was her safe space. 

You wanted to be that for Wanda too; not control, but please her so well she had no choice but to lose her composure. Imagining yourself in Natasha’s place was too impactful of a thought, leaving you squirming where you sat kneeled away from them on the large bed.

Natasha caught it, eyebrow quirking as she saw your eyes glued to where the toy disappeared and reappeared between Wanda’s legs. She wondered if you knew how obvious you were being; if Wanda’s eyes weren’t screwed shut, she would’ve wanted to remember the longing look on your face forever. Still, Natasha would happily let you have what you earned after you’d been so agreeable with her the other day. Unlike her wife, she believed in instant gratification… for herself.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Her hand rested on Wanda’s hip, guiding her along while she nodded frantically. She was so pretty like this, it was a struggle not to give Wanda what she wanted, but Natasha was still getting started. It was too early to let her finish; there’d be plenty of time for that later. “Not until you make me first.” 

Wanda’s whines were pitiful as Natasha pulled her away, clearly resisting, twisting and turning out of her wife’s strong grip. Just once she wished Natasha would just… give in, but when she set her mind to something, she was unshakeable. Still, all she wanted was one tiny orgasm, “No, Tasha, please-”

“Ah ah, that’s not my name, is it?” You watched as Natasha barely flinched, manhandling Wanda to kneel between her thighs, effortlessly maneuvering her harness out of the way to free space where she pushed Wanda’s head. As much as this was for Wanda, Natasha felt she’d earned the right to be self-serving for a moment. Wanda still needed to make up for missing her dinner. What better way than with her desperate wife going down on her?

Wanda bit her tongue and fought the urge to roll her eyes, holding back only to stay in Natasha’s good graces. She needed to cum tonight; she was painfully close already, her cunt clenching around nothing again as a bitter reminder. Natasha was always so full of herself; Wanda hated how attracted she was to it. “Sorry, daddy..” 

She barely managed to get it out before Natasha was shoving her face to meet swollen, pink lips. 

Natasha’s head fell back against the headboard with a dull thud, her hand tight in Wanda’s hair as she devoured her with a confident skill only longtime lovers had. Once again you wished you could switch places with Natasha, having cum so many times to the fantasy of Wanda rewarding you for your good work with her head buried between your legs. “Fuck, Wanda.. just like that…” 

The praise had Wanda rubbing her thighs together for friction, an act that Natasha couldn’t let slide. Fun as it was to watch Wanda try to get herself off, it was about time she gave you a task. “Come closer, dove. I need you to hold mommy’s legs apart.” 

Embarrassingly you scrambled at the chance to touch, holding one of Wanda’s calves firmly. Theoretically it gave you something to do with your hands, but quickly you realized just how torturous it was. The new angle let you see Wanda spread open, bent over in a way that meant her sex was on full view— you needed to taste her more than anything in the world. She was visibly wet, thighs slick with evidence of her own need; Wanda was so so close, but you didn’t have permission. 

You let out a whine of your own, arousal clouding your brain. Wanda was too busy to acknowledge you, but Natasha never missed a thing. “What’s the matter, wish she was doing this to you?” Her tone was clearly mocking, even when distracted by Wanda pushing her tongue past her entrance slowly and steadily. 

Given the situation you found yourself in, it was understandable you’d want to participate, but you still flushed at the thought of admitting it, “Y-Yes, I do…” Natasha chuckled, low and breathy, holding Wanda’s head still to fuck her face freely. She was enjoying herself way too much, the sheer authority Natasha wielded over the both of you threatening to make her fall apart even faster. Letting Wanda have a pet really was the best decision they’d ever made. 

“She is extremely good with her mouth,” The redhead let Wanda pull away just enough to take in air, shuddering as her hot breath hit her wet skin. She was back in an instant though, sucking and licking at Natasha’s clit with slow, languid strokes, taking the bud past her lips because she knew that was her wife’s favorite. Blunt nails scratched at the base of Wanda’s skull, a sensitive spot that left Wanda moaning into Natasha softly. As dominating as Nat was, she was still powerless to her wife. She was gorgeous and brilliant and oh so pretty to look at, wide, pleading eyes and all.

Wanda worked at her until thick thighs clamped around her head, temporarily muffling any noises that weren’t her tongue messily sliding through Natasha’s wet sex. She forgot about her own need long enough to carry Natasha through her orgasm, nudging her nose against her sensitive bud until the grip loosened and she was free to sit back on her own arms. “See, you can behave when you want to.”

There was a mental note made that, despite her defiance, Wanda’s praise kink ran deep because every word Natasha uttered had Wanda visibly soaking even after going untouched; the urge to just lean in that one short distance and clean up where she was dripping. “Mommy…” You only realized you’d pleaded for her aloud when the older woman was laughing again and Wanda pushed her hips back towards you in invitation. She almost made you give in, but Natasha’s warning look kept you still with a pout. 

“I prefer you so much more when you’re a good girl for me.” Natasha went back to what she was saying, running her fingers through Wanda’s long hair. She was so sweet when she was agreeable; they just had so much more fun, “Instead of mumbling and grumbling like a bitch because I played with your toy a little while you were gone.”

That must’ve been Wanda’s last straw because she bit her wife’s thigh, hard. There was no way it didn’t hurt, you winced just having witnessed it, but Natasha’d had way worse. They were known to get painfully rough with one another, but Natasha yanked Wanda up until their faces inches apart with such ferocity that you audibly gasped. “You think that’s funny?”

The brunette must not have been expecting such a strong reaction either, begging for something as soon as she opened her mouth. Through her rambling words, you were sure you heard an ‘I’m sorry,’ but Natasha’s face remained hard, no mercy to be found. Wanda was farther from you now, but on all fours she was still visible; in your single mindedness, you ignored Natasha’s berating to instead watch Wanda’s trembling thighs and what lay between. 

“You say sorry, bat those pretty eyelashes, and I always go easy on you.” If Natasha was ‘easy’ so far, you were morbidly curious what true punishment entailed. Her hands roamed over Wanda’s naked form until they reached her backside, offering a deceptively gentle pat before grabbing her possessively, “but not today. I think you’ve forgotten what real consequences look like.” 

Wanda protested incoherently, shaking her head as if that’d do anything to sway her wife’s new plan of action. “I mean it, I swear. I’m sorry!” She didn’t mean it; needy as she was, Wanda didn’t regret biting Natasha. Even she had limits when you were present, wanting you to still see her having some form of control, but Natasha could care less. And she could see right through Wanda’s empty apology.

“You will be when I’m through with you-” Natasha uttered something in her native Russian, a phrase that left Wanda mewling, but it was nothing compared to the pitiful noises made as her lover delivered a painful slap to her round ass. You wished you picked up on languages better only so you could fully appreciate Wanda’s Sokovian pleas; whatever it was, it didn’t change her treatment one bit. 

Wanda only lasted through five swats before she tensed, fingers gripping Natasha’s sides as her thighs shook and you knew she was cumming. You could’ve watched the sight forever; Wanda’s hips stuttering and bucking around nothing so close to you. Frenzied eyes darted to the woman leaning against the headboard, half expecting her to be disappointed in Wanda’s sudden break, but Natasha was highly amused, looking perfectly pleased with herself. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Wanda cum that way and she knew how much Wanda hated it— to her, it was empty, unsatisfying, embarrassing. All it did was worsen the need already clawing at her skin. The punishment of a spanking had been a calculated means to an end; Wanda was still so on edge, she wouldn’t be surprised if tears were falling down her red cheeks. She was right where Natasha wanted her. Fake pity written clearly all across her face, she hooked a finger under Wanda’s chin to bring her into a bruising kiss, “What a desperate little slut.”

Wanda’s arms gave out then, falling into Natasha wordlessly while she tried to process the painful stings on her ass amidst her aftershocks. It was silent for a few moments, Natasha knowing enough to allow Wanda time to catch her breath. Games aside, she wouldn’t let her love get so overwhelmed that pleasure turned to true pain. Natasha looked at you then, taking in your fists balled into the sheets and tightly clenched thighs— you’d been so dutifully patient, it was admirable really. She didn’t think she could last as long as you did without simply taking what she wanted from Wanda. “So tense over there… what’s on your mind?”

Had you not been denied so long maybe you would’ve kept quiet, but you had laser focus on Wanda and your need was so obvious, the words could’ve spoken themselves. If speaking up could even slightly get you closer to what you want, you’d talk forever. “I wanna kiss her pussy, daddy.”

“I know you do, dove.” Natasha beckoned you closer and in your eagerness, you let her position you as she pleased, head laid on the pillow a small bit away from where she sat against the headboard. You relaxed as much as you could, the bed impossibly soft against your rigid body, waiting anxiously for your next instruction. “You’ve been so good, helping me with this one’s surprise, letting me invade your bed the past two nights… you’re long overdue for a reward.” As she spoke, Natasha moved Wanda like she was hoisting a box, quick and efficient in depositing her atop you, one leg on either side of your head. 

She was close enough now you could feel the heat radiating off of her and you licked your lips, staring up at Wanda with wide eyes that were teary with desire. She was big on you using your words, but she gave you a pass this time, just once when your eyes were glued to her cunt and practically drooling with need. “Go on, baby. Make mommy cum..” 

You were on her the second you could reach, devouring her with a vigor even you didn’t know you had. She was just as sweet as you’d imagined, hot and sinfully wet. Wanda was still sensitive from her unplanned orgasm and your eagerness was quickly bringing her to another, but she didn’t want to cum again so soon. Not when she’d already done so humiliatingly easily a few moments prior, but it was proving way too hard to continue to hold back. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good..” 

You hummed as her hands found your hair, raking her fingers through it until she had a good hold on your head. She rocked herself methodically, zero trace of shyness as she moaned each time you dragged your tongue through her sex. Wanda knew what she wanted you, unlike Natasha, weren’t in any position to tell her no. When you flattened the smooth muscle, Wanda’s grip faltered, the rough surface of your tongue against her clit leaving her shuddering. 

“O-Oh… stay right there, stay still for me, sweetheart-” Hard as she tried to hold back, Wanda’s hips betrayed her, she was cumming again with a sigh and you let her freely have her way with your mouth even as she tugged hard at your hair. 

When you started to slow, wanting to draw out the experience you’d waited so long for, Natasha shook her head and placed a steadying hand on Wanda’s hip. “Ah ah, your job’s not done that quickly, not yet.” Assuming Natasha was simply conveying what Wanda couldn’t as she caught her breath, you were quick to bury your face back into her cunt, the deep groan from above relaxing the last of your nerves. 

Wanda’s movements were getting out of sync, clearly ready to succumb and, helpful as you were, wrapped your arms around Wanda’s thighs to pull her down. “Wait-”

“Put your hands on the headboard.” It was probably the most demanding thing you’d ever said to her, but your brain was stuck on one goal and that was tasting Wanda as long as she’d let you. Shockingly, she complied with your demand, even settling her hips so you could lap at her to your heart’s content, but she was whining, wiggling to get a moment away from your tongue that refused to let up.

“What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted this.” Natasha was at the perfect angle to antagonize Wanda, forcing the brunette’s head towards her with a strong grip on her chin. Wanda hated that Natasha wouldn’t just keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t ashamed of her thoughts, not at all, but it was a whole other thing entirely to let you hear what she’d confessed privately to Natasha. “All those times you’ve mumbled about our precious little dove, watching her practically beg to fuck you just to say no and fantasize about it more?” 

It was hard to make out what Wanda was saying, her sentences cut apart with small noises as soft as she was, but the ‘yes’ you heard confirmed that your boss thought about you as much as you did her. Unfortunately the conversation alone was enough to bring you close to soaking your underwear. Natasha tried to take pity on you, removing the last garment you wore, but she’d barely brushed you before Wanda slapped her wife’s hand away. 

“Don’t.” You only had a chance to be upset for a minute before Wanda pushed down on your shoulders, putting your mouth back to work. Reminded of her earlier anger, you whined against her folds, eyes searching for hers to persuade Wanda’s unshakeable will. “None of that, you’d better not start, you little slut.” 

You whimpered a sorry that she must’ve heard because Wanda was smoothing your hair back gently with a whispered ‘you’re okay, little one,’ reassuring you enough that you knew you weren’t in any trouble. She never wanted to scare you again how she had earlier; you were too delicate for that. You nuzzled the inside of her thigh with your cheek, letting her know you were okay before she held the hard wood in front of her again… just in time for you to slide your tongue inside her tight entrance. 

But Natasha wasn’t deterred by the same warnings you were; if Wanda still felt bold enough to be a brat, they were all far from done. “You’re so selfish, you know, not even letting your wife touch your toys until you have. If she weren’t so obsessed with you, she might’ve gone off to date someone else by now.” Wanda visibly bristled— she knew you never would, but Natasha being right made her want to roll her eyes for a completely different reason.

If you hadn’t been fucking her just right with your tongue, maybe she could have. As it was, her eyes fell shut and Natasha’s supportive hands were the only reason her head didn’t completely fall back. “Oh.. d-don’t stop that..” You wouldn’t dream of it, not when Wanda was dripping onto your chin and she let you guide her into the perfect shared tempo. 

“There you go, keep fucking her like that and she’ll come apart for you in no time. She just loves being taken care of. Isn’t that right, dear?” Wanda nodded without realizing, knuckles white on the headboard as she focused on the tip of your nose brushing over her sensitive bud. She was close again and this time Wanda was going to warn you, but then you were curling your tongue and she was clenching around it, her third orgasm of the night leaving stars in her vision. 

You hadn’t stopped yet though, cleaning her up even as your jaw tired. Greediness kept your arms around her thighs, waiting until the moment you’d gotten your fill of her to let her go. So far, you haven't even come close. “Sensitive…” 

Natasha cut in quicker than you could loosen your grip. “Don’t stop, dove, you can keep going.” You obeyed the redhead’s command, licking at Wanda’s swollen center even as her legs clenched around your head. 

Wanda was well on her way to shaking, jerking wildly as you held her tighter than you ever had to before. It wouldn’t be the first time she cracked a headboard, but she liked this one enough that she wanted to keep it intact. “Stop, stop! Malyshka, I can’t-” 

“She can. Keep going on and see what happens.” You were inclined to believe Natasha; as much as she loved to push buttons, she would never put her wife in a truly unwanted position especially when she was too powerless to truly get herself out. For your part, the sight of Wanda convulsing above you was too good of a view to pass up, taking mischievous pleasure in the way she jumped each time you pinched her clit between your teeth just the slightest bit. “You wanted to cum? Well now you’re going to give me one more.”

Her cries weren’t new to you. You’d heard them many a night after you’d come home from the bar and if you ever spotted them, it was always attached to Natasha pushing Wanda’s limits until she broke. Frequently it was all you could think about when you had moments to yourself, brain filled with the fantasy and now that it was right in front of you, there was no way you couldn’t make it a reality, even if it was just this once. “No, it’s too much! I can’t.. I’m gonna-”

“You will.” Natasha was so sure of it, you knew you had to make Wanda fall over that edge she was fighting against just one more time. You hadn’t thought your face could be more soaked than it already was, but Wanda proved you wrong. This time she came with a sharp gasp, tensing around your head until all Wanda took over each of your senses. All you could smell, see, taste was the brunette and you never wanted to leave. She’d made a mess of your mouth and chin, surely dripping past your cheeks and onto the pillows by now, but none of it bothered you and absentmindedly you wondered if this feeling right now was better than any orgasm. 

“I told you, she’s always got something up her sleeve.” Vaguely you were aware of Natasha pulling Wanda away from you, mostly by the lack of warmth around your head, but you laid still, perfectly content. Natasha hovered above you, a wide grin plastered across her face. “You did so well, dove...” She leant in close for a kiss, something you thought a sweet gesture until she was licking over your lips. At first you parted them and she indulged you, dominating the kiss as she nipped along the shape of your mouth. 

After a while Natasha pulled away, her tongue drawing a line up your throat as a lonely whine erupted from it. You’d just been so consumed, it hurt to be left alone and you needed her back, even if she was only a few inches apart. “Tash…” The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, but Natasha didn’t correct you; maybe she was too aroused to care this time. 

“Hush, baby, you’re alright.” She kissed you again, the two of you sharing the lingering taste of Wanda and moaning into each other. “I think it’s safe to say you made her happy enough to finally give you what you want.” 

Natasha hoisted you up to your knees, taking in your current state of disarray in mock concern. “Oh you poor thing, so tense…” Her hand slipped between your thighs, dragging two skilled fingers through your folds where you were positively dripping. It took almost no time for you to whimper and beg for more attention, hips jerking wildly for anything you could find. The two other women found it painfully enticing, the deep hunger to finally fully claim you as theirs rising. “Wands, can you take care of her yet? Or can I keep her occupied for you first?” 

The brunette shot up at her proposal, eyes still a tad hazy, but determined. “Get your own if you want someone first, sweetheart.” Wanda had to stretch to grab at her nightstand, standing on shaky legs only long enough to secure the harness you’d waited to see for so long. You were drooling, you were sure; the sight of the thick toy both intimidating and leaving you feeling more empty than you’d ever felt before. 

“That’s what I have you for.” Natasha mocked, pecking her wife’s cheeks once she’d settled back onto the mattress. Meanwhile, you were practically leaping into Wanda’s arms, wrapping yourself around her just to cling to anything at all. Wanda let Natasha’s comment go in favor of shushing you, hands rubbing over your back while you frantically pushed your face into the crook of her neck. She knew what you needed, even without your muffled whining and as you pressed your pelvis against her strap at just the right angle to let your neglected clit have the most enticing friction, Wanda was more than excited to give you everything you wanted and more.

“Calm down, I’m right here. Mommy’s got you..” You let up just enough to plead with her, eyes wide with need; when she testingly pressed the tip against your entrance, it took everything in you to wait and not just sit on it instantly. “Now?”

You nodded wildly, completely sure of yourself at that moment. “Yes, god please.. I need you so bad!” Wanda hummed as she pushed you down onto her strap, fueled by you saying you needed her specifically. If only you knew she needed you just as much, thriving off just how dependent you were on her. Natasha came behind you to hold your hips, thankfully just in time because without her, you’d have gone fully limp. The simple feeling of being full of Wanda, finally sitting in her lap where you were stretched and ready for her… you were trying so hard not to cum on the spot. “Move.. please..” 

In the future, Wanda would make sure to coerce you to ride her, but tonight, you were beyond gone; there was no way you’d have the focus to do so. She started slow, judging how well you’d adjusted to the toy, but the pace wore on you both and it only took a minute or two before she was fucking into you steadily. “Don’t worry, dove. I’ll take care of you, you don’t have to do anything.”

You nodded as best you could, trying so hard not to cry out too soon even as Natasha moved your hips in time with Wanda’s thrusts. There was no way you could’ve kept up without the other woman’s help, Wanda’s now fast motions forcing any thoughts that weren’t on the burning stretch between your legs far, far away. If you died right here, you wouldn’t notice, way too caught up in the women sandwiching you to be bothered with anything else. “M-Mommy.. feels good…” 

It felt way more than just good, both Wanda and Natasha could tell you were almost completely blissed out in just a few minutes of their focus turned to you. Maybe if you could spare a moment to process your situation, it’d be embarrassing how close you were so quickly. Try as you might, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d waited too long to mind anymore.

“Is mommy fucking you real good, baby?” Natasha’s lips were right at your ear, her grip tight on your sides as she kept you in place, “Is it everything your needy little pussy dreamed of?” She could only assume you were agreeing with her, your noises as incoherent as they were loud. One look at Wanda and she could tell her wife was oh so pleased with herself, the payoff from denying all three of you clearly oh so worth it for her. Natasha was the one known for control, but Wanda was nowhere near lacking. Hers came in subtle ways such as this, waiting until you were obsessed, hopelessly dependent, and far too deep to realize she was always the one getting her way.

Wanda stroked your cheek slowly, gently, trying to coax you into taking a few deep breaths. She doubted you realized you were mumbling against her skin, begging almost silently; it was so cute, Wanda nearly wished she was filming you. No matter, there was always next time. “No one even had to prep you.. You were just so ready for us, weren’t you?” She watched your head fall back as she shifted her angle, hitting that perfect spot and making you give up any hope of keeping your orgasm at bay.

A strong hand pulled your chin down until Wanda was in view once more. She was saying something about wanting to watch you, but you couldn’t respond, your entire body fixated on finally reaching the high you’d dreamt of for so long. “...need to cum.. please-” 

Both women chuckled at your babbling, faintly registering Natasha’s lips on your shoulder as Wanda cracked a smile, “This is your reward, baby doll. You can cum whenever you’d like, go on, you earned it.” 

“Thank you mommy…!” It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before you were cumming, cunt clenching hard on Wanda’s strap while she fucked you through such blinding ecstasy, you were sure your bones had gone soft. There wasn’t a moment you’d been left alone, either Wanda or Natasha’s hands somewhere on your body, keeping you grounded even as you felt completely untethered. You wished you could thank them for their attentiveness, but your jaw was helplessly slack.

What finally brought you back was Wanda carefully lifting you from her lap, your still tingling legs trying and failing to keep you locked down. She was unfazed by your protests, shushing you like she would a child, “Shh, don’t make a fuss, you’ve been so good. You’re going to let Natty have a turn with you.” As soon as Wanda finished speaking, you shut up, immediately ready to be filled again. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the bulge you’d felt under Natasha’s pants two nights prior, or how amazing it would feel taking you apart.

The second the tip of her strap nudged your entrance, you tried to sink down on it, but Natasha held you firm, preferring to lead you down on it herself. Even then it didn’t take long, your first orgasm from Wanda leaving you open and easy to use. “You took it all so quickly… gonna let me fuck you now, sweetheart?” You were nodding before she could finish, pushing your hips back into her in desperation, already craving another orgasm from the redhead behind you. Her hand snaked around your front, spread fingers pushing into your lower belly despite your whines, “Can you feel me filling you up, dove? Pressing into your sweet tummy?”

“Mhmm.. ‘love it..” And truly, you did. Something about the near painful fullness between your legs was addicting and you never wanted to let it go. But then Natasha drew back, leaving you shockingly empty just long enough for her to shove herself back in. Unlike Wanda, Natasha’s pace was instantly brutal, rendering you speechless each time she bottomed out in your stretched cunt, “Daddy… t-that’s hard-”

You couldn’t see Natasha, only hear her fake pity, mocking your pleas while her teeth scraped down the back of your neck. She wasn’t apologetic in the slightest; you wanted her to fuck you, this is what it was like. “Aww, did someone think I’d be gentle like my wife? Don’t be so fragile, you can take it.” 

Strained arms tightened around Wanda’s neck, leaning on her completely as your panting turned heavy. “Natalia, be careful, don’t hurt her.” Natasha rolled her eyes, not once even thinking of letting up. Wanda always treated you like such a precious porcelain doll, but cherished as you may be, Natasha knew you weren’t unhappy. 

Not when you were soaking her strap so much she could slide you up and down like it was nothing. “She can take it, Wanda. She loves it.. Isn’t that right, little one, daddy’s tough girl.” You moaned out against Wanda’s collarbone, bracing yourself for the next wave of pleasure you were just out of reach from. Wanda pulled your head back for a kiss just as you began to cry out, the brunette swallowing your sinful noises as your hips stuttered and shook atop Natasha’s thighs. There was no way the sheets beneath you weren’t ruined, evidence of your orgasm smeared over both you and Nat. 

You took a breath, tried to at least, but Natasha’s thrusts never let up, keeping you on the edge of something equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming just like the woman herself. “Can’t.. no more..” But this time it was Wanda who spoke up, pressing quick kisses over your flushed nose and cheeks while her hand slid between the two of you. 

“Just do one more. For the both of us, please, baby?” You wanted to cry, you were going to, tears filling your eyes as two fingers rubbed over your swollen bud. It was all too much and not enough; you needed both of them to let you fall just once more— if only you could stay coherent long enough to reach it. You felt like your whole body was spasming, every touch Wanda or Natasha gave almost stinging your skin, but you didn’t want it to end. Not ever. 

Natasha came to a slow stop, working you down as steadily as she’d brought you up. You were thankful for it really, much too used to being left alone once you’d finished; this was infinitely nicer. When she backed up to ease you out, Wanda took over and encouraged you to rest your exhausted body atop hers which you did readily. “You did amazing, such a good job… How do you feel?” 

Speaking would still be too much, your throat tight from your long night. Instead you snuggled into Wanda, hoping your happy hums against her chest would be enough to soothe any concerns she may have. If her gentle coddling was any indication, she understood. “Good girl. You just lay here and if you need anything, let me know however you can. Do you understand?”

You nodded your agreement, finding Wanda’s hand to give it a weak squeeze as she settled against the headboard to allow you both to stretch your legs. Natasha was the one to pull a blanket over the two of you before sliding in next to her wife. With a lazy peek upwards, you saw Natasha whisper something indiscernible into Wanda’s ear and after a minute to process, the brunette nodded. She let Natasha smooth her hair down; an action so intimate, there was no way Wanda would’ve allowed it in her earlier state.

The last thing you remember was Natasha’s hand behind your head, lips warm and sweet against your temple. It would be so easy to get used to this. “Get some rest, we’ll be right here.” Natasha wasn’t really a talker, not unless something needed to be said. Consequently, her reassuring words felt even more comforting and as soon as her hand joined Wanda’s on your back, drawing slow patterns while she watched over you, your heart melted right along with your muscles.

“Do you feel better or will we have to continue to suffer with snippy Wanda?” Natasha wound her free arm around Wanda, pulling her in until her head rested against her bare shoulder. Wanda only gave a grunt of disapproval, focusing on your sleeping form draped over her. She wasn’t in the mood for any more of Natasha’s antics tonight�� truly she was fed up for a good while. 

Natasha could sense it, both from Wanda’s silence and her stiffness. It was Wanda who introduced Natasha to the idea of a post-sex cuddle; not that she was particularly good at it, but it was what she wanted. The first time she’d fallen into Natasha was awkward, made more so by the lack of reciprocation, but she’d hung on anyways even as her partner stayed stiff as a board. Now the older woman knew Wanda like the back of her hand and if she was still the rigid one, Natasha wasn’t fully off the hook yet. “I’m sorry for provoking you.”

“And?” Wanda’s voice was firm, unwavering.

“I’m a stubborn idiot.” Finally she was granted eye contact, only to be given an expectant look of pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow. Still, Natasha could see tiredness in Wanda’s eyes, how she fought off sleep just to prove her point with her wife. The only thing Wanda hated more than Natasha’s annoying plots were letting her think she’d gotten away with them. And she was the one admitting stubbornness.

“And?” Natasha had half a mind to just give up and try again tomorrow. She wanted to sleep next to Wanda too much to fall back into that now. 

She sighed, throwing her head back dramatically, “And I shouldn’t have played with your favorite little teddy bear just to piss you off.” When she righted herself, Wanda was smiling. She was poorly holding back a laugh, face half muffled in your hair as she tried and failed to hide. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek the moment she realized Wanda wanted to see how far she could push her apology. She’d fallen for it enough times over the years, anyone would think Natasha could see right through it— they underestimated how much she would do to see her happy again. “Are we done now, can we sleep?”

“Mmm.. I suppose so. I forgive you.” The last part was a yawn, Wanda sinking down into Natasha’s embrace and closing her eyes. She shifted just enough to lay both you and her on your sides, sandwiching you between her and Natasha. For a moment as you wiggled, she was scared she’d woken you, but you only burrowed deeper, easily enjoying her chest as a pillow. “Sweet little thing.”

“I’ll order us breakfast tomorrow. Something tells me it’s going to be a late morning.” Natasha made sure you and Wanda were nicely settled before relaxing into plush pillows, exhaling a deep, content breath as her body unwound. She let her own eyes close now, fully ready for a much needed sleep back in her own bed. 

“You’re not going to run off to get back at me, are you?” The question was so small, so insecure compared to just a minute ago. Angry as they might be with one another, they’d never lied. If it was something Natasha was thinking of, she’d tell her. Wanda didn’t know if she should be scared of the answer. Natasha hadn’t left like that in years and when she did, it was a mistake; they’d been so young and spitefulness kept her away for a week. It hurt Wanda much more than she’d ever expected and now it was a fear she had to still every time her error reared its ugly head.

“That’s abandonment, silly girl.” Natasha stretched over you, just enough to reach Wanda for a long kiss. One that was way overdue. “I never want to leave you, Wanda. My home is here with you.” Her thumb swiped under Wanda’s eyes, wiping away the anxious tears that pooled before she could stop them. Wanda was prone to these bouts of sensitivity after she exploded, the quiet aftermath of her thunderous storm. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” Wanda’s smile was sleepy but genuine, just barely hanging on to consciousness. She snuggled against your back, your warm body lulling her further and further away. The weight of you combined with Natasha’s strong arm under her head was an intoxicating level of comfort and safety. She’d have to talk to you tomorrow about sleeping with them more often. “Now let me sleep.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, immediately regretting how she flopped back to the mattress as you groaned. She swore she used to hate cuddling, but now with you and Wanda both happily snuggling against each other and her, she knew she’d be getting it twice as much now; she didn’t mind it. “Fine, get some rest, sleepyheads.”

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