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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Text

Christian Woman

König x Nun!Reader

Word count: 12.5 k Tags/warnings: 18+ pure FLUFF & SMUT & COMFORT

First time/loss of virginity, implied consent, teasing, corruption kink, fingering, cunnilingus, thighing/intercrural sex, protected p in v. Silly, sweet, kind of innocent, kind of naughty. Romance, forbidden love trope, love as a religion, happy ending.

Part 3/3

Everytime König enters your life, you start to lie.

You lie about where you’re going and where you’ve been, you lie about who you see and what you do. People think you’ve helped some foreign man to hospital, that you were away last night to make sure he got safely into treatment. You told them he was some poor fellow who got stabbed and robbed on the street and that you called the ambulance from his phone and that the police needed to see you today for further questioning.

You lie and lie and lie, and then slip out to see König, who’s hopefully alive and still in the same place you left him last night.

When you enter the old, half-demolished building now serving as a B&B, the same old man from last night looks up with wary eyes. He immediately relaxes back to reading his paper when he sees you’re only the harmless, grey nun from last night.

You sneak upstairs without exchanging a word with him and go straight to König’s door. Giving it a quick knock and uttering, “It’s me,” you half expect to get shot through the wooden entrance. But there only comes a happy “Come in” from behind the door, and you notice König hasn’t even locked the damn thing. Is he expecting you, or is he simply that confident with his gunslinger skills?

Turns out he’s probably both, because you freeze right there on the doorstep when you step in.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers this time, and your eyes fly straight back to his eyes after being glued to the prominent package between his legs for far too long. And good God, the man’s got some muscles on those legs...

“Hallo, Kätzchen,” he greets, giving you an obnoxiously flirty smile upon noticing how flustered you look.

“You… You shouldn’t be up yet,” you quickly turn to close the door.

“I have to use the bathroom, no?”

He looks at you from across the room, so innocent and sweet and, at the same time, so mischievous that you don’t know what to do or where to look. He’s gotten rid of the hood, but there are traces of black paint around his eyes, it still clings to his brows, making him look like someone who just came home from a carnival. You want to go to him and wipe it away and tell him that he missed a spot and that he’s clumsier than you thought, but you can’t... You can only fall deeper into your awkward shyness as he raises his brows.

He turns what appears to be the shreds of his old shirt in his hands, then dumps it into the bin, suddenly a little nervous too. There are moments when you have suspected that König might suffer from social anxiety or shyness around people, but he covers it very well. Around you, the man seems to be at ease, flirts and jokes with you often and is very straightforward with his intentions.

You wonder if he likes you so much simply because you are unattainable.

Maybe you represent some girl next door to him, perhaps you remind him of his first love. Perhaps you happen to be something so sweet, innocent, and unreachable that he feels strong and safe in your company. Perhaps holding hands and trading a few passionate kisses feels safer than going after a real relationship… Perhaps this Will they, won’t they situation is enough excitement for him, too.

Or perhaps König has been so wounded by women that he prefers to be around a frigid – or at least very virginal – nun rather than face the dangers of approaching a real, attainable woman.

But flaunting himself like this in front of you is yet another clear sign that he, at the very least, loves to tease you to death. He looks like he’s in far better condition than yesterday, and starts to peel off the bandage like it’s just a scratch he suffered.

“Let me help you with that,” you rush to him, silently relieved when he lets you clean the wound and change the bandage. He even lays himself down to be treated by you and smiles with his signature grin as you fuss around him.

“Not a word,” you risk a glance his way while gently cleaning the wound.

“Not a word,” he promises with a cheeky smile, and gets another erection.

It’s even worse when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear... You can see the bulge stretching the fabric, forming a tight, thick curve right next to you as you try to focus on your task.

“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” you offer while trying to concentrate on examining the skin for any signs of irritation.

“Eh. They’re dirty.”

“I can go and ask if they have a laundry room here,” you propose. “I could wash them for you. Do you need a new shirt?”

Ugh, what a stupid question...

“Why not,” he shrugs. “If the view is unpleasant...”

“Behave yourself now,” you say with a soft smile. “XL…?”

“At least.”

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. You bite your lip as he dares to moan on the bed, too. You’ve brought him food last night, and he’s being treated carefully and touched softly, he’s getting his clothes washed for him, he’s got his own personal nun worrying about him 24/7. Of course he’s moaning.

And you’re in danger because you just love to pamper him. It feels more meaningful to treat his wounds and run on errands than do the eternal dishes at the convent. You feel like you’re saving a life here... Like someone actually needs you, depends on you. You feel so wanted, and König seems to fully agree with you.

“I could live the rest of my life like this,” he purrs on the bed as you gently put a fresh bandage in place.

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Are you really going to get me a new shirt…?” He asks with bright puppy eyes – the faked innocence is so blatant you want to throw a pillow over that face.

“If you give me some money to buy one, then yes.”

“You can have as much as you want. Buy yourself something nice while you’re at it, hmm? As a reward.”

“I don’t do this for the sake of rewards.”

“I know... But you could buy yourself anything you want. A new dress, new jeans, lingerie… Give me a little fashion show when you get back?”

König knows you’re probably the last woman on earth who’s interested in shopping sprees, let alone new jeans or sexy lingerie. Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to see his face when you do a little twirl before his bed, wearing nothing but a laced bra and some matching strings…

“Give you a fashion show?” you laugh. “When did thanking me turn into you profiting from it?”

“I’m just saying... If you need new underwear, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You snort and shake your head slowly. “You’re far too cheeky when you’re injured. I truly hope you get better soon.”

“I don’t,” he crosses his arms behind his head, looking perfectly pleased with himself while lying there in nothing but his underwear. “And neither do you.”

“Excuse me? Of course I do…!”

“No, I don’t think so. You like to take care of people, I can see it. You’d make a good field medic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You remain calm under pressure,” he says. “And you take good care of me.”

“That’s only because you were silly enough to get shot.”

“...And I would do it again if it leads to this,” he grins.

“Cheeky,” you shake your head reprimandingly. “Far too cheeky.”

“You are an angel,” he says gently. “And I mean that.”

You rise to put the trash in the bin, then look back at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. It’s like he's stripping away pieces of your armour – you fear nothing will be left before this visit is done.

“Did you eat any of the food I brought you…? You need to eat something, and drink a lot of water–” You take a look at the side table, noticing he has already eaten everything you got him last night. “Gosh. You must be getting better if you have an appetite like this...”

König only laughs on the bed. “I’m sorry, Kätzchen, but that was just a snack.”

You brought him three sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and a bag of walnuts, but they’re all gone. Of course a soldier of his size eats like a horse, and he needs all the food he can get, having gone through the wringer last night.

“I’d kill for a Schnitzel and a tall beer,” he sighs dreamily on the bed, no doubt knowing you well enough to tell that you’ll get him anything he wants if he only plays this wounded soldier role right.

You begin to doubt if his injuries were ever that serious. It just looked bad last night because he was so tired, and there was blood everywhere... With a bleak blink, you realize most of the blood you cleaned off of him last night probably wasn’t his own.

He’s in a cheery mood now, looking at you hopefully from the bed, arms crossed behind him, legs out long, wearing nothing but those stupid black boxers and that goshdarned, sweet smile.

“Do you think you could get me one of those big Schnitzels somewhere…? You know, the really big ones.”

“Maybe,” you cross your arms over your chest, and furrow your brow when he visibly perks up on the bed a little. “I said maybe. We’ll see. And you’ll get water instead of beer.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t need alcohol right now. Plus I can’t just go and buy beer looking like this.”

He smiles. The man’s all smiles today… Probably because of all the blood loss. Or maybe because you’re the girl next door who’s going to bring him his favourite food.

“Of course not,” he says, with hazy love in his eyes. “I am already forever in your debt, Kätzchen.”

…

It’s not a sin to take a nap together.

That’s what you tell yourself as you curl next to König after you bring him his Schnitzel, shirt, and a few bottles of sparkling water.

“There’s plenty of room for both. Come on, I won’t bite,” he shifts on the bed and extends his hand to invite you in.

You lay yourself down next to him and tell yourself it’s just to please a recovering man. There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

Still, your body is singing by the time he takes your hand in his own, wrapping both your arms around your middle like you’re an established couple about to get some sleep together.

Raindrops are slowly tapping on the window, and you tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes a bit as your lids drift closed. König is already snoring behind you, with another erection pressed against your back. You’re not intimidated by it: it only feels natural to cuddle him like this. The rain turns into a languid rap, and you know you won’t be leaving this building in a while. With the contentment of a cat who’s finally warm and safe, you fall into a deep sleep.

You stir after an hour or two, waking up to such a pleasant, safe feeling you don’t quite remember when you’ve ever felt this good. König has buried his face in your neck, somewhere in the folds of your coif, probably in an attempt to reach some skin. He pulls you closer when you try to shift, rumbling contently behind you.

“Sleep well…?”

“Mm...”

The moment is so lazy and cosy you don’t want to get up. A large, warm hand flexes against your stomach as König buries his face deeper under the veil. He reaches the skin of your neck and inhales deeply, making all the tiny hairs across your body shoot up.

You let him kiss you there, and he does it with reverence, like he’s kissing a holy idol. It’s chaste enough but makes you go taut in his hold – in fact, you have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud.

“I think I need to go now,” you whisper, doing absolutely nothing to act on that threat.

“Mm–hm,” he agrees while keeping your body hugged tight against him.

“König… Really, I need to get back...”

“Ja... Ok,” he mutters, hand traveling up the thick black cotton of your habit. It meets your breast and cups it without shame. You feel the hot, hard length twitching against your back, making leaving this bed less and less tantalizing.

You whine when he starts to fully paw your breast, thrusting his hips up and against your butt. The kiss turns into a love bite right after as he starts to use teeth on your neck – your back arches on instinct, a broken sigh slipping through your lips. He can't be serious... A hickey-covered neck is the last souvenir you want to bring back from this nap.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” you whimper, but he just laughs softly. The sound is thick and breathless, cinders and smoke so close to your ear that you’re shamefully wet even without his other… advances.

The afternoon is mellow, it has stopped raining, but you wish you could stay on this spun sugar bed with him forever. You know what you want already; in your heart, you’ve made a giant decision, but the overwhelming realisation is too much to bear.

And so you rip yourself away from his arms and flee once again. He’s the devil himself, smiling on the bed with another proud erection tenting his pants. Rushing back to the convent, adjusting your veil as you go, your mind is plagued with the image of König reaching a hand down those boxers and enjoying a long, drowsy masturbation session while you have to hurry home for Mass.

Christ…

It only took 24 hours to make you melt in his arms like snow.

And the “naps” become a habit as you haul him food or clothes, new from the store or clean and warm from the drier. You bring him a fresh pair of boxers, too, since he only had the clothes on his back when he was shot. He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

Sometimes, he’s cleaning his gun or doing wall pushups when you arrive, indicating that he’s still recovering but getting better every day – and more restless by the minute. At some point, you’re not even napping anymore; you only lay down with him to snuggle and make out, feeling like a shy teen when you only let him touch you over your clothes. His hands explore you literally everywhere except between your legs because that’s when you gently guide his eager paws away.

You wonder if this is what drugs feel like to some people. You’re fully in the present moment, swimming in a soft bliss, calm and whole and sweet and good. Everything in the world is just as it should be.

“If you ever come to Austria, I will take you to the mountains,” König mumbles nonsense into your hair, freed one day from the confines of your veil and coif. It’s a surrender in every meaning of the word – your clothes are the last literal protection you have against his attempts to worship you.

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. “Ja, that sounds good… I’ll keep you there until you come to your senses.”

“That sounds like a kidnapping scenario,” you comment with a soft smile on your lips.

“Ah. My plan is ruined.”

You crane your head to look at him. “No... Not ruined.”

“No?”

“Just exposed.”

You figure it was only a matter of time before this snuggle turned into another make out session. This time, the shared kiss is purposeful, full of presence and slow need. The anxiety is gone, the rights and wrongs of this world tucked somewhere far away.

“We need to stop doing this,” you whisper into his mouth, brain turning into mush from the way he holds you so gently.

“Why…? It feels nice…”

You can’t argue with that, and when his hands start to travel, you do nothing to stop them.

He slides a palm down your curves, pulls you closer by the waist, cups your butt when you don’t seem to protest. Usually, this sort of behaviour has been a little too much, you have treated it as a bridge that shouldn’t be crossed. Now, you let his hand travel down your thigh, you allow him to grab a handful of your skirt and slowly, slowly drag it up.

When you still don’t protest, his unhurried kiss turns into a delighted, hungry one.

He finds nothing but skin underneath your dress, and starts to explore your thigh with a trembling hand. He's warm and big, both gentle and calloused, and you can’t help but think how obscene you must look with your black robes dragged up like that, a man’s hand desperately searching for the treasure between your legs while your mouths devour each other in a slow, sloppy kiss.

His fingers slide up, up, up until they meet the fabric of your panties, then come to a halt right above the mound of your sex. In both horror and thrill, you find your thighs parting, inviting him in, heart racing in your chest as König finds your underwear not only wet but soaked through.

That’s when he groans – into your mouth, hot breaths hitting your face as he examines you through the panties like it’s business as usual that you’re so wet. You’re both ashamed and exhilarated – you haven’t even shaved. And he’s about to…

“Mh–”

You feel him probe the side of the fabric, then casually sliding your poor, soaked underwear aside. Your wet folds are exposed to cold air and warm fingers; the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam.

He drags his fingers across your folds, unhurried and pleased to meet you so ready. The fact that this man could crush your windpipe or break your spine, he could grab your thighs and force them apart like sticks, have his way with you if he wanted, doesn’t make you afraid of him like it probably should. You know he would never hurt you, but the intensity, the intimacy in his glare and touch, are enough to make the air around you feel electric.

“You’ve never been with anyone…?”

The question is breathless and thick, causing your core to tighten.

“No…”

Is it that obvious…?

“Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what…?”

“Nothing. You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t try to steal a peek at your glistening sex, all bared and slick for him. He only has eyes for you. Your rushed breaths, how they hitch in your throat when he brushes a thumb over your clit. Your lids, fluttering over defenceless eyes as you try to search for something to ground you. But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

“I tried to leave you alone. I truly tried, Kätzchen… But you’re so sweet it’s illegal.”

The words hit you, loaded with lust, but you’re too weak to answer him anymore. Pitch-black darkness stares back at you as the sounds of your drenched pussy fill the room. You want to touch him too, but you’re too shy, still trying to silence the buzzing beehive of your brain and come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening.

“I should’ve come back for you… I knew I should have, right away. I was too dumb, meine Liebling…”

Starved and dreamy, he looks down at you, whole body tight as you hold on to him and take in his confession. Only, you feel like you’re the one who’s confessing here… He seems to read you like a book, giving you just enough to keep that adoring look on your face.

He slips a finger in, and you stop breathing for a second, the room seems to go darken, even when it’s high noon. Time slows down while your heart thunders in your chest, giving you a sense of urgency where there is none. Pulling out and adding another finger straight away, he ushers a mewl out of you.

Your fingers curl around his shirt, pulling and tugging it as you try to keep intact. A deep rumble echoes in his chest when he sees you so pliant, clutching him like you’re drowning.

“I know you want this,” he says, voice so rough that you barely recognize it’s him. “Don’t hold back…”

You try to beg him for more but the words come out as a whimper without a voice, causing something dark to flash behind his eyes. That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up. He must like his victims like this, too: on their backs, begging for mercy before he finishes them…

Blinking in despair, you try to drive the intrusive thoughts away, but he’s already upon you. Crossing the last breath of air between you, he captures your mouth in his.

You can do nothing but take, take, take: his fingers and his mouth, greedy for the rapture that’s already blooming in the distance, rising like a tidal wave. He won’t stop kissing you even when you spread your legs further – to what end, you don’t even know, because he fucks you without effort, keeps you pressed against him in a way that says you’re his.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tasting him, your whole body going tense before you erupt with a miserable, pained moan.

You reach the peak and break, right into his mouth, around his fingers, the weight of it all almost unbearable. He groans on your tongue, kissing you while you milk his fingers, your inner walls hugging him in waves.

Nothing moves except you, the shudders and squirms gradually leaving your body while he draws circles on your clit, lazy and somewhat absent-minded, like you’re his favourite toy now.

The release brings with it a roaring wave of sadness, a deep grief, something that has been locked up inside you for months – no, years, now brought to the surface from the bottom of a stagnant sea.

He lets you go reluctantly, releasing your mouth so you can breathe more freely. Burying his face into your neck, you decide to do the same, escaping to the solace of his strength while trying to prevent tears from welling up.

König doesn’t yet understand that your release continues as a cleansing wave of relief; he only pulls out, slowly and carefully, gently sets your panties back where they were, straightens your dress, and hugs you as if nothing ever happened.

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone.

“Scheiße… Did I do something wrong?”

König finally realizes you’re crying, and grows taut from the middle like an iron cord. The pure concern in his voice only makes you bawl louder and grip him tighter, and the man starts to veritably panic.

“Kätzchen, I–”

“No, no,” your jaw is shaking as you try to explain. “I just… It’s…”

You’re hugging him so tight that you don’t know where you end and he begins, but as König caresses your back, swallowing as he does it, you eventually come back down to planet Earth and back to this bed.

“Did you like it…?” He asks, still with so much worry that you could announce your love for this man right away.

“Yes… Very much.”

“Gut.”

You think about returning the favour, but selfishly, you’d want nothing more than to stay here like this, in his arms, for just a few more minutes. Or an hour... Well, if you got to decide, you’d stay here for the rest of your life.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace. He doesn’t make a single move to coax you into touching him in return, and after a few seconds, your voice comes out as a frail question.

“Should I… Do you want me to–?”

“Shh.”

…

Six months without him.

Six months, and now you couldn’t bear to be apart from him for six hours.

You’re glad you were sensible enough to shave before running to him that morning. Making up more excuses about how you’re seeing your friend because she just suffered a terrible loss and needs some spiritual and emotional support, you sneak a couple of blocks down the street to see König. If anyone suspects something, they say nothing, but you feel the lies as a grimy cloak upon your shoulders as you hurry up the stairs of the B&B.

The shadows dissipate when König catches you in his arms. You get smothered with kisses as he spins you around, making you chastise him for being so careless with the wound.

It’s, of course, difficult to scold a man who’s kissing you so profusely… You’re starting to feel like he wants it to open again so that he never has to leave this place. To be honest, you wouldn’t mind it either if you two stayed here forever.

“You’re crazy, and silly, and I like you,” you tell him while looking down at him – a strange thing to do, even if the man has picked you up like this once before.

“Is that so?”

His eyes always light up when he sees you, but now, he looks like a man in love.

“Yes... I like you a lot.”

“And I like you. Do you want to see how much?”

He gives you that slightly crooked grin that reminds you of feline predators, or fantasy creatures who are up to no good. He also moves quickly for a man of his size, and before you know it, you’re thrown on the bed like a sack of potatoes. As you laugh and try to adjust yourself on the bedding, he’s already on his knees, head quickly disappearing under your robe.

God, he’s not going to–

“What are you doing…?”

“Giving you a kiss,” comes a muffled voice under your dress.

He’s headed straight between your legs, two days worth of coarse stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as he goes.

“But… But what about your injuries?” You try to scurry upwards on the bed, hands shooting instinctively to hold his head in place before he does something utterly shameless.

“König–”

“Sei ruhig.”

God – you’re not the most confident woman when it comes to these things to begin with. It’s one thing for a man to lay his fingers on you and look you in the eyes while you cum, and another thing entirely to place his mouth where you’re wet and aching.

What if he won’t like it...?

What if you’re not beautiful enough there?

...What if you taste odd?

You’re shy, as any woman would be on their first time getting head. You’re infinitely grateful to yourself for shaving because there’s a delighted, surprised sound under the robe when König strips you from your underwear.

“For me…?”

He’s smiling at your pussy, voice dampened by the thick cotton, and you thank God that he can’t see your mortified face right now.

You brace yourself for a delicate kiss, maybe a tentative lick or two. But the soft tenderness of yesterday is gone as König presses his whole face into your sex, giving it a good inhale followed by a good, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Wrenched awake from your semi-relaxed state, you jerk up on the bed as he does it again. Then come the flat-tongued, starved licks – your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock, giving a full throb against his stubbled jaw. König breathes a short laugh against you, pleased with this response.

The noise of him “kissing” you is obscene and only gets worse when he drags his tongue up and down your slit. You truly hope the doors here are solid wood because you can’t stifle all the sounds that escape you. For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment.

You’re stunned, and a bit appalled – was this all it took to turn your nose up to your vows? A big man with big arms and a big gun? Some guy who wants to get under your dress after a few weeks of acquaintance…?

Because that’s what this is, a few weeks’ acquaintance currently under your robes, eating you out like you’re his last meal.

The things you’ve imagined him do to you are shameful; even now, you fantasize about König picking you up and taking you against a wall when he gets better. This man treats you right, he treats you sweet, but you want more, you need something earthly and raw, and him lapping you under your habit is precisely that. It’s ravenous and adorable at the same time, so conflicting that you don’t know who you are anymore.

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. It should concern you that he’s so eager to wreck you like this. It should arouse suspicion that the playful aura of this man changes whenever he gets between your legs... He becomes deliciously dark somehow, dark and base and addictive, and you wind into another plane of existence with him, to someplace only reserved for you two.

“König,” you whisper. “I’m– I’m about to cum…”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission.”

It’s dark, again, so smooth and rich that your inner walls clench, then flood with pleasure and pain. The inevitable orgasm is thigh-shaking and soul-ripping, your moans long and pitiful now. They’re not whimpers but cries, bare and pained as he continues to bully you with his tongue, grunting silky sin into your core.

You can feel yourself leak on his chin as you cum, violently, forgetting the whole existence of the man downstairs. He turns you into an overstimulated, limp, heady mess – your chest is heaving by the time König emerges from under your robes.

“Oh God…”

It simply escapes from your lips when you see how wet his jaw is. There’s a pussydrunk look in his eyes as he takes a look at his good work.

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

“Ja... I made you see God?”

“Stop it… You’re so cheeky...”

“Eh. And you’re technically still a virgin. We need to fix that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like a virgin.”

“Well… I can take the blame.” He gives you a naughty little wink. “Remember? I would go to hell for you.”

And as if you weren’t in over your head already, he starts to drag your robes up. Too limp to do anything about him unravelling you like that – not even wanting to prevent it – you continue to catch your breath as his eyes go wide.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under here all this time…?”

He tucks the thick fabric up until your breasts are exposed. You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. Your nipples perk up from excitement under his stare, your panties wrenched down in a hurry, now crumpled and forgotten somewhere between your thighs – the look on his face is priceless as he takes in the view of your exposed body like you’re a Christmas present he just opened.

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly, and while you’ve received plenty of attention these last two days, it still makes you feel odd to be adored like this. His hawk eyes fly back to you, the corner of his mouth tugging up with some new, nasty idea.

“Want to see what I got?”

Oh God…

You don’t even get to express your consent – which would be enthusiastic – before König pulls the waistband of his boxers down.

The cock that springs free is long and thick, heavy and red-pink from the tip that’s pointing straight at you. Curving slightly to the side, it’s even bigger than you thought, somehow having been rendered harmless by his pants, making it seem hefty but never that tall.

Your friend was right about him – tall men have tall dicks… Big hands indicate a big dick, too, you remember as you watch how he wraps tall, lean fingers around himself, giving his shaft a slow half-stroke.

“You want to practice with me?”

You quickly rip your eyes up to his – you’re the world’s lousiest nun, caught staring at a cock like that. König only seems proud that you’re so intrigued by it, his eyes watching over you with dark amusement.

“Uh–huh,” you swallow and nod – Christ, your voice is breaking…

And whatever he means by “practising”, you can only hope that he’s not going to put it inside. There’s not even a condom for crying out loud.

It’s a sigh-inducing thing when he gets to it, rests the heavy head of him on your clit, then drags the fat tip down across your folds.

“F–uck…” his head falls back a bit, lids fluttering closed from the way your slickness feels against him. That’s the most sensitive spot in a man – more of your friend’s advice floods your brain as you watch how he does it again, rasping while guiding himself up and down your slit.

You’ve never seen him so serious: his brows furrow together as he explores your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself while stroking his length. Agonizingly slow, you can see his balls hang heavy and gradually pull tight as he continues to work his cock.

You know you should touch him, return the favour at last – but it’s hard to interrupt a moment like this. You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together.

“Kätzchen…” he rasps, “Would you mind if I…”

You fear that he’ll ask for permission to slip it inside, tempted and weak-willed. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you’d have the will to deny him.

But that’s not what he has in mind, apparently, as he begins to fist himself in a slack hurry, with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He just wants to cum like this and ease the pain that must be terrible after days of sexual tension…

And seeing you laid out before him, naked and dreamy and bare, licked stupid just moments ago isn’t helping, that’s for sure.

“No,” you whisper, “No I won’t mind…”

You brave your heart to reach out and touch him: it’s just a shy hand gliding down his chest, but it makes him groan from pleasure. A brush of fingertips across his abs, and his muscles contract, and when you slide your palm over his hipbone and coax him to come closer, he finally leans forward and on top of you.

“Kätzchen…” he groans in whispers now. “You’re so wet…”

He could slip it in from this position, search for your opening and rough it inside. It’s tempting, so alluring that you almost say please – but that would be a catastrophe, and so you only look up at him, speechless when he supports himself on his hands and starts to glide up and down, fucking himself between your thighs.

The bulged tip caresses your clit each time he pulls back – you doubt you can cum another time like this, but he sure as hell tries his everything to get you off too.

“You want it…” he grunts above you. “You want me to fuck you. Right...?”

“Yes… But–”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No, wait–”

Now it's your turn to panic. You were always taught that condoms are unacceptable, while simultaneously, you know you could never do it raw, not even with König.

This is a moral choice you've never had to face before, and your brain is no use to you now. It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin.

"No? It's a sin or something?"

König pants above you, both tired and needy, and you nod with pleading eyes, not knowing what else to do.

"Ok… Ok," he adjusts to the new reality while hovering on the brink of eruption. "I'll talk you out of it later..."

You give him a small smile, and he answers it with his own, slowly, starts to move again. Just the feel of the smooth surface of his cock dragging up and down your slit is enough to bite your lip and moan. Sliding your hands over his waist and down his butt, you give him a good squeeze–

And were he inside you, the effects would have been disastrous.

He cums abruptly, with a stiff, broken groan as soon as your nails dig into his skin. Hot, heavy seed meets your folds; it’s thick, the spurts neverending as he continues to fuck himself between your thighs with little control. How you still have anything left to give, you cannot comprehend, but the sudden, messy orgasm of this indomitable man makes you cum as well.

Everything’s hot and sticky and dreamlike, almost pornographic, your thighs drenched in cum as he ruts through the orgasm with you. You roll your hips in sync with his, arriving at the end of your own mellow, beautiful peak, wondering how on earth it can only get better every time you have sex…

The afterwaves are magical; you basically came together, and it hasn’t even been in yet. If this is what sex is like, mind-blowing and relaxing, hot and sweet and fulfilling with the right person, then you feel both dumb and proud for saving yourself for König.

And you’re starting to realize that you might just have a boyfriend…

No – not a boyfriend.

You have a man.

…

König orders food – or goes downstairs in nothing but his shirt and boxers and makes the poor man order it – while you lie in bed, under covers, still high from all the lovemaking. The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now.

You take a quick shower while waiting for the delivery, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless. Having a man cum all over your folds is not exactly a safe way to practice sex… You’re doing everything wrong, asking König if he has any diseases when he comes back.

He just pulls you back into his arms with a gentle laugh and says: “What do you take me for, a jerk? Of course I’m clean, silly kitty.”

That calms your nerves a little. You’re feeling anything but virginal right now, and putting on the black, heavy robes of a nun doesn’t sit well with you. You leave them on the floor, making König a very happy man by deciding to sit on the bed completely naked.

You reach for the comforter when there’s a knock on the door, and clutch it against your chest like a paid woman while König pays the courier – still in his black boxers and t-shirt, like he’s just a guy who happens to live here.

“What...? Eat?”

The smell of Nepalese food fills the room: the rich, mouthwatering scents in stark contrast to what you’re used to at the convent’s kitchen. Butter chickens, lamb koftas and flatbreads are laid out steaming on the bed between you, and König attacks the food like someone who hasn’t seen a meal in weeks.

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. He munches on the food with his mouth open because it’s so hot – the man’s secretly so greedy that you can’t help but wonder if he had enough love, food and shelter as a child.

“Do you do this often?” You ask when he rips another handful of flatbread to dip in the sauce.

“Seduce women.”

“Seduce…?” He laughs. “Kätzchen, I couldn’t seduce a woman even if I tried.”

You’re unsure if he’s dodging the question or being humble – or worse yet, if it means you’ve been an easy conquest.

“You just did,” you point out, realizing you’re sulking when König tilts his head with curiosity.

“Oh. I’m sorry… Did it hurt?”

You grab a pillow to throw at him, but he dodges it and laughs.

“Careful with the food…!”

And of course he isn’t.

You decide it’s useless with him, and besides, jealousy is not a good look. But you just can’t help it... You’re so in love that it’s not even funny anymore.

To you, he’s a hero and a God in one man, he’s both Satan and the Saviour. But to König, you’re probably just a nice foreign friend... Some cute nun he met months ago, who he finally gets to grope and taste and, hopefully, soon fuck. He says he doesn’t have time for women, and yet he licks you like a professional – not like you know what a professional in this area feels like, but it’s pretty clear that König is not a virgin even if you are.

It must be nice to live a dangerous life and bump into women on the street... Woo them off their feet and leave them yearning, then get shot and cared for by some fussy, naive nun who’s head over heels for him. Perhaps it’s his favourite pastime hobby to torture ladies with flowers and letters and some cock and then leave like a cowboy. You wonder if he has a girl in every city – girls who aren’t nuns, girls who know how to show him a good time.

“Kitten... I’m not like that,” he says, a curry-drenched piece of bread dripping sauce over his fingers. “I only hold hands with you. Now that you finally let me.”

And you don’t know what’s more decadent: eating naked on the bed after making love, or being a Catholic nun who’s about to beg a man to fuck you, with or without a condom.

He finally notices he’s about to make a mess on the sheets, and gobbles the food as quickly as he can before there’s sauce all over the bed. Licking his fingers with dark, glimmering eyes set on you, you quickly focus your attention on the food.

The bastard is flirting with you every chance he gets, even when you two are trying to eat...

“Is this what you call holding hands?” You ask, reaching for a piece of bread he's offering you.

König looks at you a while longer, with an expression he sometimes wears when conversing about serious, deep subject, the issues of God and Heart.

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.”

…

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week.

You, on the other hand, learn that he’s ticklish on the sides of his stomach and behind the ears. You discover that he gets hard if you caress his abs or whisper in his ear that you like him... You learn everything about what kind of handjobs he likes; you find out that he almost rips the sheets apart when you take him in your mouth.

You lie on top of him, you lie under him, you let him hold you any way he likes. He moves you around like a doll, kisses you until you’re soaked, laughs into your neck when you tell him he’s being impossible again. He loves your breasts religiously, bites and nibs and licks them until you grab his head and tell him you can’t take it anymore. He has an oral fixation for your body and has to kiss every part of you: your inner thighs, your hip bones, the quivering place just below the navel; your neck and fingers and arms, even the arch of your foot.

You receive attention only reserved for saints, and fear that someone will notice the smell of cum on you, or the musk of a man, lingering in your hair. Your sisters could easily notice your flushed lips if they wanted to. They could see the dreamy smiles, eyes that have just seen God, but everyone is looking inward, and no one sees how you rebel against the Lord right under their nose.

You stay strong in your no condoms policy, but practice with König every day; you practice so much that his wound opens and starts to bleed.

“Oh my God…”

“Heh… It’s okay,” he says as your stare drifts down to the side of his stomach. The bandage is slowly blooming with red, and your crazy soldier would simply go on if you didn’t order him to lie down.

You’re both naked as you start to patch him up, convinced that this is some sort of a punishment for being so reckless. König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked.

“I like it when you take care of me,” he explains while you clean up the wound. You raise your stare, and in place of a horny, able-bodied man, there’s briefly a boy, a kid who used to make himself sick as a child to get at least some attention.

“Has no one ever taken care of you…?”

“Not really.”

He grunts when the antiseptic seeps inside the wound – you wince, sympathetic to his pain.

“Is that why you like me?” You try to chitchat and take his attention away from it, secretly nervous when fishing for details on why he would want to be with someone like you.

“There are many reasons why I like you.”

“Such as…?”

“Your smile, for starters... I like that. And then… I really like your ass.”

“König...”

“What, I’m not allowed to?”

You purse your lips to scold him, but really, your heart hurts so much it burns. There are a million doors to this man, but he only keeps one or two open at a time, to prevent an attack of some sort.

“I like your devotion,” he says, finally with some serious air about him. “Your kindness. You don’t hurt people.”

“...But you do,” you whisper. It’s not an accusation, only a comment.

“I would never hurt you.”

The playfulness is gone, and while you miss it, you also like it when König gets fragile like this, stripping himself of all the shields that make him a strong, confident merc.

“Sometimes we have to fight for the things we love,” he continues, probably explaining why he endorses violence.

“Killing is a sin,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kätzchen... You can’t tell me it’s a sin to kill the ones who would try to hurt you. You can’t tell me it’s not love to hurt them back.”

You look at him, calm and adoring on the bed. He’s so sure of his choices, like an archangel set on the borders of Eden with a flaming sword in his hand...

And the rose is starting to unfurl, the enigma finally unravelling itself. You’re the sacred Other, the opposite of him, you’re the great Mystery he’s infatuated with. You have peace and faith and hope and love: everything he lacks.

And he’s the opposite of you. Fierce, vengeful, violent… Hopeless, suffering, without peace. Ready to dive into the world and bathe in it, be it a pool filled with love or blood.

He’s searching for the answers, too, only in different ways.

“And no one ever will.”

“No one’s trying to kill or hurt me,” you whisper, trying to stand brave under that flaming stare. But he’s stronger than you, even when recovering. He pulls you back to the bed and in his arms because that’s where you simply belong now, and caresses your cheek, as gently as you caressed his withered flower in your cell.

…

You know your days at the convent are coming to an end, but when the abbess gives you a warning after the fifth day of you skipping half of your chores, appointments and prayers, you go to see her.

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. You say you’ve studied your soul for months now, coming to a conclusion that the life of a nun doesn’t suit you after all.

These things happen, and people have left before; it’s nothing new under the sun that a nun or a monk wishes to return to the world. This is not a prison, you remind yourself, knowing that your departure will send some waves through the place but that eventually, people will go on with their lives.

You will probably be forgotten in a year: someone else will take your place, and you will continue your adventures someplace far away from here… Or that’s what you hope.

But even if things didn’t work out with König, and you somehow ended up alone, it has become clear that you can’t stay here and continue this double life.

König’s offer doesn’t sound too bad: the Austrian Alps sound very enticing, actually. A simple life away from the buzz of the city is a golden opportunity for you; peace and faith can remain in your life without preventing you from participating in it. If only you knew whether he was kidding when he said that…

“Are you sure, sister? This seems like a rash decision.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I… I think I have found something,” you try to awkwardly explain.

“Something… Or someone?”

“I just know that I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

“On that, I agree.”

You go through the procedures, ritualistic, almost. The abbess asks whether you understand that this cannot be undone: you can’t just leave and then come back if you change your mind. The doors of the Church will always remain open to you, but your vows cannot be renewed, not in this convent. If this acquaintance of yours turns out to be a disappointment, you cannot simply come back here, don your robes, and start over.

She’s only doing her duty, and you try to listen respectfully, nodding as she lists the things that will be out of your grasp after you walk out those doors. Thinking that everything’s settled, you inform her you’ll leave today, to which she puckers her brows.

“My dear. Don’t you owe it to this convent to meditate on this for one more day? Don’t you owe it to yourself, to the Lord...? I’m sure the world can wait a few more hours.”

You sigh, bow your head, and bend to her will.

She’s right; you can’t just leave as if all the years of joy and peace here meant nothing. You have people to say goodbye to, and you owe it to God to say your prayers, not your last, but last behind these walls. You haven’t even attended the evening mass these days; it’s like you stopped being a nun when a certain Austrian soldier asked if you wanted to take a nap with him.

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too.

You catch very little envy in your sisters, but there are some who look at you with jealous disdain when you tell them that no, you don’t even have an apartment yet, nor a job, but that you’ll take your new life as a gift and face it like an exciting adventure.

Thinking about König all day long, you can’t wait for tomorrow so you can tell him the good news. You hope he understands that you can’t visit him every day, even if it has been your silent agreement that you knock on his door before noon. It’s a good thing that the poor man gets some rest: you can tickle and giggle and practice with him tomorrow to your heart’s content, it’s not like he’ll disappear in the next 24 hours.

He’s in König now; all that bliss resides with him and the moments when you two break bread together, or wash each other, tell each other silly secrets on the bed, fall asleep after a round of good sex.

Except that that’s exactly what you fear while you go about your day.

Sorrow and excitement mix in your heart with bittersweet torment, but what haunts you most is that you no longer find God in the great hall where your sisters sing. You don’t feel His presence during the Mass.

Sun sets behind the window, and you sigh while peeking out of your nunnery turned prison. Silence weighs upon you like a blanket, but you can’t get any sleep.

There’s a sudden “clack” on the window, followed by rap, small pebbles or something clattering against the glass. You rise to sit on the bed, instantly thinking of König and his stupid, silly threats.

The longing is awful, it’s even worse when König was away for half a year because now you actually have something to miss. You wonder if he’s watching the same sweet skies as you, if he’s worried or hurt when you didn’t visit him today.

You wonder if the man has only shrugged his shoulders and left…

It can’t be…

There’s another clack, then another, until you jump from under the covers and go to the window, opening it without even remembering to be quiet.

As soon as the windowpane glides open and you peek out, you meet König and his stare.

“What are you– You can’t be here...!”

“I was just about to sing,” he grins without even bothering to tone down his voice, letting the remaining gravel in his hand fall to the ground.

Bending his knees, he swiftly jumps up, pulling himself to the window sill like it’s easy parkour, probably opening that goshdarn wound again in the process. No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put...

Throwing a pair of long legs over the sill, he makes himself at home, forcing you to take a good few steps back as he simply waltzes inside your room.

“You didn’t come to see me today,” he says like it’s some kind of an explanation for this silliness.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. “Something came up, and I had to stay here.”

If you tell him that you’ve just renounced your vows, there’s no way you’ll get him out. He’d just say you must celebrate the good news by making love all night.

“That’s alright,” he says amiably. “I’ll just visit you.”

Trying to argue with whispers doesn’t really help your cause. König only smiles down on you like a cheerful, jovial sun.

“But... It’s... You can’t be here…!”

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“You and your promises… We both know how well you keep those. Go back before you get me into trouble, silly. We can see each other tomorrow.”

“But I want to see you today.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.”

“I don’t think so.”

He takes another step, forcing you to back away until you bump into your bed. Crossing the final breath between you, he pulls you into a kiss.

So much for contemplating your choices and dedicating your last night as a nun to God…

And it’s laughable how fast he rids you of your clothes these days. It’s stupid how fast you’re able to help him get undressed… You all but tear the clothes off each other; actually, you can hear a seam rip when you both yank the shirt over his head, the new black t-shirt you just bought him a few days ago.

Does he even know what he’s doing to you…?

Muscles rippling in the fading sunlight, he’s a god mortalized. Body built as a weapon to rip or ram his way through enemies, to you, he’s only ever been the source of joy and pleasure.

You could pray on the altar of his pecs, sing songs and chants to his lips, worship the bunching muscles of his thighs, kneel before the thing that rests thick between them. The sheer width of him is enough to make you drunk: desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.

You lay yourself on the bed, and he follows, like a big panther or a prowling titan. The bed sags as he sets his knee on it, it wails when crawls on top of you. Heavy cock swinging between his thighs, it seems like a cruel joke that you chose this man to be your first.

And you didn’t expect that you’d lose your virginity this way: in your old room at the holy convent you swore yourself to a few years ago. You didn’t expect you’d lose it to a giant soldier who starts to frantically search for a condom after you whisper to him you’re done with practising.

While theoretically a sin, you’re more sullen with the prospect that you won’t be able to feel the silken hardness of him now that he rolls the plastic on. A little too enthusiastically – as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, let alone cummed all over one two times yesterday.

Still, you find heat pooling down your stomach as he approaches you, keen and eager and as hard as a man can get when he sees something that he likes.

He doesn’t need to part your legs: you do it for him, and when he sees your pussy all puffed up, leaking a thin stream down on the bed, his brows knit together, the expression reminding you of approaching thunder in summer.

His gaze is heavy like midnight when he guides it back to you – always back to you and your eyes, even if there’s a whole feast down there, prepared just for him. The backs of your thighs meet his as he slowly crawls forward, spreading your legs further apart before the battering ram.

“Kitten...” he rumbles. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The springs continue to wail beneath you: it’s like the whole world is against you today, even the stupid bed making it far too likely to get caught. And if you get caught, it won’t be just by some shocked sisters screaming when they find a man inside your room… It will be by them screaming when they find him inside you.

And he doesn’t seem to even care.

“Ach so my little nun… I hope we don’t break the bed,” he smirks.

“I hope you don’t break the bed…”

“You want me to take you down there instead?”

He nods in the direction of the floor, and you can only blink – your soldier boyfriend is offering to fuck you on the cold cement as if it’s some kind of an option.

“I’m not having my first time on a floor,” you grump.

“Heh. Thought so, princess.”

The possibility of getting caught makes him visibly excited. Hell, it makes you excited... You wonder if he’s an adrenaline junkie, leading a dangerous life and having a life-threatening job, now choosing to try his luck at fucking a nun at a cloister.

You don’t want to be a challenging conquest or a kinky story told to some fellow soldiers at a bar… You want to be a commitment; you want to mean something to him. But you can’t escape the fact that this setting is turning you on. You’re even worse than him, spreading your legs and hoping he’d touch you with that cock; just drag it down your lips and glide it in already.

His gaze is heavy, blue steel, blazing in the darkness as he looks at you so wanton on the bed, a simple crucifix on the wall as the only witness to your deeds. This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life…

Replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he finally lets you have what you need. The tip of him is hot, even when covered in thin plastic, and the sight of him, large and powerful and dark, looming godlike above you, makes you think of pagan heroes and kings. To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want.

With a curious finger sliding down the wet, heavy seam of you, he swears when meeting you so pliant and wet. Thanks to your constant “practising”, you’re always slightly aroused, getting in the mood the instant you see him.

Contrary to your belief, having sex multiple times a day doesn’t, in fact, stifle sexual desire but adds to it… It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box together, only the box contained all the pleasure in the world instead.

“Are you ready, kitten…?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… We need to be quiet…”

His smile is a flash of a grin in the falling darkness. “I’ll try my best.”

The sound that leaves the back of his throat is a deprived, hoarse moan. He seems to be enjoying it more than anything while you’re trying to remember how to breathe, but when he settles fully in and stays there, you start to actually feel something… Something thick, and heady.

Settling to your entrance, he tells you to relax, and you try your best with that; you truly do.

But nothing can prepare you for it, the fat head of him sliding in, smoothly and with a spread that leaves you gasping. The fulfilment is phenomenal – you try to remind yourself to relax your muscles as he pushes a few inches in, and then some more, and then some more. More, more, more, until you start to feel your inner walls wake up with alarm.

Seated so deep that his balls arrive to touch your flesh, your body starts to accept him, squeeze him, hug him.

And it feels good. In a way, it’s the best feeling in the world.

He groans, slightly high-pitched and surprised; perhaps you’re tighter than he expected, or perhaps he can feel the hugging thing…

Your cheeks are panging with heat – the whole building is silent except for the broken breaths of you two, and the lewd sounds of fucking on your chaste bed not made to take this sort of abuse. Growing only wetter and wetter, you try to keep your moans lodged inside your throat as he starts to fuck you with determination, seeing that you’re enjoying yourself.

Pulling out the slightest bit, he chooses to head straight back, apparently not wanting to be deprived of your heat even for a second. Thrust by thrust, he pulls out more, allowing you to get used to what it feels like. The bed is absolutely horrid, creaking every time he buries himself back in.

It’s a punishing of sorts, his cock knocking the air out of you every now and then. The slap of his balls against you is sinful – your room has seen nothing like this, nothing but some shy solo action every few months. Now you’re spread wide open for a good pounding, his hips reaching a pace that makes the rest of the world slowly dissolve.

Realizing he might be a bit too enthusiastic with a woman who’s a first-timer, he swallows and slows down his pace, causing you to almost scream with frustration.

“Am I being too rough…?” He asks, panting like he just ran ten miles. Plugged deep inside you, you can feel his cock throbbing and pulling near the point of cumming – perhaps another reason why he stopped.

“No… No.”

You sound puny under him, fingers flexing over his skin, the great ribs flaring in reply under your touch.

“You want more?”

“Mm. Needy little thing...”

“...Yes.”

Huffing in the hollow of your neck, he breaks into a smile and licks his lips.

You barely catch the hint of degrading tone in his voice, a mocking, something about the way you’re so wet and needy for him stroking his ego just the right way.

Knowing that he’s here for reasons other than just sex doesn’t change the fact that you enjoy getting sweaty with him, spiralling into a state of total surrender. Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours.

Ecstatic that you just came, König no longer holds back; he doesn’t even let you gather the remaining pieces of your sanity before he starts to chase his own peak. Taking what he needs from you, the trusts turn into short, quick pumps, some foul German curse hissed between his teeth just before he cums.

When the tide swells, it’s a bit different: not just external stimuli and shallow friction, but areas never explored now getting nudged as well. The delicious drag of his length in and out of you, the thickness making you feel overstuffed, does make the pleasure well like never before.

You’re not accustomed to this, being forced so dumb by a cock. Cheekily anticipating the swelling wave, it breaks upon you almost without warning. There’s nowhere to escape, and the climax is blinding, the euphoria leaving you without air for a moment.

You can feel every thick pulse of his cock, and fear for the condom that looked far too tight to manage to take both him and his load. You whimper and cling to him as he ruts through his heavy bliss, entire body throbbing with heat from the joy of spilling inside you.

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. The man on top of you is sweaty and catching his breath, but you’re only glad to swim in the messy, sweaty newness of you two.

“You ok...?”

You want his weight on you… You want him to stay inside you until he grows soft, you need him to be as drowsy and complete as you.

Hugging him tight in the middle of your post-coital bliss, you feel König rumble into your neck.

“Better than ever,” you breathe a smile. “How about you…?”

“...In heaven,” he replies, and you have to stifle a giggle pushing up your throat. He has never sounded so spent. So tired, happy and fragile…

“I just want to be with you like this,” he continues to mutter on your skin. “Can I be with you like this…?”

“Yes.”

He slowly rises to lean on his elbows, propping himself on them one by one. Weary, pleased eyes slowly focus on you, and the back of his palm comes to caress you, knuckles gently brushing your temple, thumb swiping away an escapee hair.

“Kitten… I’m serious. I don’t want to live without you.”

“We have a tradition in Austria where men sometimes steal the bride.”

“How convenient,” you smile.

“I know you belong to someone else, but I’m going to steal you.”

Your eyes are full of stars, you just know they are. If this is another one of his jokes, you can’t bring yourself to care, not as long as he looks at you like that, eyes so set and determined.

“I’m sure He won’t mind,” you mirror his gesture, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“I’ll fight Him if he does.”

“...You can’t fight God,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You open your mouth, then close it, shaking your head on the pillow. In a way, you can imagine him taking up arms against God if it came to that. If there was someone foolish enough – or brave enough – to rise against God, that someone would be him.

“König… I renounced my vows today.”

“...You did?”

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too.

“I tried to leave in the morning but the abbess made me stay for one more day.”

“Ah... So you’re being held a prisoner here?”

“Kind of.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells you that he already has another plan coming right up. That grin means mischief; but with you, only the sweetest kind.

“Well. You’re in luck, then, because I’m here to save you.”

“You just said you’re going to steal me,” you laugh.

“Call it what you want, kitten,” he winks. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

…

The sun has set, but the evening is bright, the sky filled with stars visible even through city lights. It’s dark in the courtyard as you sneak out of the window with König, trying not to giggle as you escape. You call it a prison break; he calls it Einsatz Rapunzel. Whatever it is, it feels like freedom.

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König.

He whispers promises on your skin, saying that you won’t stay here for long; his contacts will get you to the heart of Europe, tomorrow if you want. You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new.

Night covers you with beauty and grace, his pulse against your palm both a promise and a blessing. You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fluff #könig x female reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig fanfiction #cod smut #könig x nun!reader #könig x virgin!reader

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luvt0kki · 5 months

Text

003 | on this ship

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

🎧 : NFWMB - Hozier

previous | 003 | next

pairings: ot8 x reader ( yungi x reader)

w.c : 7.5k ( this one’s long)

cw: mature, lots of world building in this chapter I’m sorry,minors do not interact, nsfw, mentions of assassination, hinted violence, slow burn ( for Wooyoung), polyamory, smut ahead , dom!Mingi and Yunho for this chapter, threesome, bath/shower seggs, oral, size kink, eavesdropping, Mingi’s nickname for reader is baby, masturbation, Wooyoung blue balls again, Yeosang is very sweet here, some humor ahead, San is a cutie as always, hongjoong is unreadable as ever, Wooyoung thinks he’s connected the dots but he hasnt connected sht

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : thank you so much for all the support! Here is part 3! There’s uhhhh smut…but then a lot of world building and interactions between the crew that will kind of show just how close they are with y/n. It’s a bit long 😭 I’m sorry but hehe chapter 4 is already in the works! Don’t forget to fangirl and scream in my askbox about what you think of this Chapter 💕

The warm water embraced you in much-needed comfort and it took away the fatigue you felt. Your mind was still hazy and you just stared at the rippling surface, the bubbles foaming up in white pearlescent colors. The smell of sweet watermelon and coconut filled your senses and you moaned when the fingers massaging your scalp found the pressure points that made you melt forward, leaning your torso onto your thighs.

“If you keep moaning like that, I’ll get hard again.” Mingi’s deep voice echoed in the bathroom, the big man sat across you, massaging your calves under the water while Yunho’s fingers continued to shampoo your hair and massage your scalp.

“Mingi, if we go again, I won’t be able to walk for two days,” you pouted, feeling the soapy foam of the shampoo run down your back.

“And that’s a bad thing, how?” He raised a groomed brow.

You looked at him. His pink hair was a deeper shade of the color and it was pointing in different directions while also flat on his head from being wet. He still looked so handsome and his eyes were doing that thing, the thing where they were soft and round, almost childlike. “I have things to do, Mingi. I can’t be bedridden all because of your libido.”

“Baby, it would help me if we fucked more. It was torture to be away from you for so long. The videos and pictures, as much as I love them, can’t compare to the real thing.”

“And how is fucking more helping your libido?”

“It might return to baseline. Normal Mingi libido.”

He had said that with such a serious face, it was kind of cute. Okay, it was cute. Dumb but cute.

“You said ‘might’. You’re not even sure!” You splashed some water onto his face, Yunho’s fingers now massaging your lower scalp close to the pressure points of your neck. “Oh.”

“Then we have to find out!” Mingi turned his head to the side, avoiding your cute yet innocent expression from the way you moaned and relaxed from Yunho’s touch.

“I can’t believe you referred to your sex drive as Mingi libido.” Yunho chuckled from behind you and finished shampooing and rinsing your hair. “You sore, sweetheart?” He kissed the nape of your neck.

“Not as much as I thought,” you leaned your head back, perfectly fitting on Yunho’s shoulder. “But if I go another two rounds with Mingi, I might not be able to walk tomorrow. And, if I go one more time with both of you, you two are the ones who are going to have to tell Hongjoong why I refuse to go to the upper deck.”

Yunho wrapped his arms around and kissed your temple.

Mingi relaxed and smiled softly at the sight. You were back home, where you belong. Where you were safest. Nothing and no one could hurt you here, and if anyone ever tried ( not that anyone could), they wouldn’t leave alive.

Yunho pressed his lips close to your ear to whisper. “So…we can go again?”

“Oh my god.”

“You did say you can go one more time with me and Yunho,” Mingi smirked, scooting closer.

It’s actually amazing how two of the tallest of your lovers could fit in the tub with you. Sure the bathtub was big but to fit the three of you? Jongho wouldn’t believe it if you told him.

“But we’ll have to bathe again…” you huffed, Yunho leaving hot kisses along your neck, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive spot. It was hard to say no. “Your bed will get really wet if we go back right now.” You whined, Yunho’s pretty slender fingers cupping your breasts and pinching at your nipples.

“We don’t have to go back to my room.” Mingi settled himself between your legs, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and kissing your inner thigh. “We can fuck here.”

“I thought we finally crossed off shower sex on your bucket list?” You threaded your fingers through Yunho’s hair as he continued to kiss and fondle you.

“Trust me, baby, I know,” Mingi replied, reaching for the nozzle to drain the tub.

“It’s on my bucket list.” Yunho nipped at your ear. “Mingi, put her other leg over the edge of the tub.”

Mingi does as he says and he bit his lip at the sight of your pussy again. His cock twitched when Yunho’s right hand left your breast to slide down to massage your clit.

“Yunho…” you sighed, hips twitching at the feeling, not sure if you were moving away from his touch or if you wanted more.

The lower the water got, the more you could see of Mingi. The bubbles and foam stuck to your skin and when the cool air began to hit your skin that had been submerged in warm water, you shivered.

“We’ll be gentle,” Yunho told you, biting your neck. “But usually you’ll always beg for us to go harder.” He teased, dipping two fingers into your entrance, not plunging further which made you whine as he spread your slick all over your folds.

“And I thought you were being so sweet shampooing my hair and all. You’re just as mean.” You bit back, your resolve crumbling when he finally slipped his fingers into your sore yet welcoming, velvety walls. “F-fuck. Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mingi watched Yunho’s fingers slip in and out of your heat.

“We go another round but please let’s go to my room. The bathtub isn’t really the most comfortable place for the three of us.” You said through gritted teeth, squeezing Yunho’s thighs as he curled his fingers inside you. “And last time we fucked here, Mingi, you slipped and bruised your elbow.”

“Baby, that’s between us.” He groaned, keeping your legs from closing watching your cunt suck Yunho’s fingers in and soak them in your slick.

“I had a feeling it wasn’t because you elbowed someone.” Yunho tutted before focusing on the movements of his fingers, humming when he felt your walls squeeze him. “Even after taking Mingi and I, you’re still so tight.”

“Yuyu…” you whimpered the nickname you endearingly called him, tugging at his hair as you bucked your hips into his palm.

“Always so wet and ready for us, aren’t you?” He curled his fingers faster, his long digits reaching you deeper than your fingers could ever do. His palm made contact with your clit as he moved which made your nails dig into his thighs.

“She’s our pretty girl.” Mingi cooed, scooting closer and keeping your legs apart then lifted you a little so you were on his lap and squeezed between him and Yunho without disrupting his best friend’s actions. “Fuck, do you hear how wet you are?”

You could but you didn’t have time to be embarrassed about it when Mingi took one of your breasts into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive peak and sucking which earned him a very cute squeak from you.

“Yeah…we’re not going to make it to the bedroom, sweetheart,” Yunho growled in your ear, not slowing down the pumping of his fingers and knowing that you were gonna cum soon. They knew your body well and they pride themselves in being lovers that never disappointed you. “Once, I make you cum. Mingi’s gonna clean up the sweet mess you made…” His lower register made you squeeze around his fingers again, knowing full well the effect that tone had on you. “Then I’m gonna fuck your perfect cunt.”

You felt your lower abs tighten and your legs began to tense, shaking around Mingi’s torso who suckled and massaged your breasts. Your legs wanted to close so badly as your orgasm was approaching fast and it didn’t help that Yunho was whispering filthy things in your ear in that stupid perfect deep register of his.

“Yunho…please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Please.”

“This time, sweetheart…,” He paused a beat to kiss the spot beneath your ear before continuing. “I won’t cum on your pretty tits. I’ll fill you up nice and good like Mingi did.”

The idea had you cumming hard, your lips parting in a silent scream as your walls spasmed around his fingers.

“Good girl.” He cooed, kissing your temple as your body shook from the pleasure, slowing down his fingers and taking them out of your pulsing heat, only to to bring his digits to his mouth to have a taste of your sweet essence.

Without another word, Mingi halted his attack on your breasts and Yunho hooked his hands beneath your knees to open you up for the pink-haired man. He dipped low and you cried out when he started to kitten lick your sensitive pussy.

“Mingi! Too much! W-wait, please.” You whimpered, trying to fight against Yunho’s hold who kept your legs wide open so Mingi could lap up your juices.

“Tastes so good, baby.” He moaned against your core, the obscene slurping making heat explode in your cheeks. He was licking you up with that stupidly heavenly tongue of his like a man starved.

Mingi kissed your clit before wrapping his plump lips around the sensitive bud and making you squirm.

“Hear that? Mingi said you taste so good.” Yunho unlike Mingi right now, who was drunk on your pussy, was gentle and sweet again.The two of them balanced each other out in ways you could never really explain.

Knowing he won’t ever get enough of you, Mingi lapped your juices up one last time before sitting up and adoring the way you looked so fucked out. Yunho hadn’t even stuffed you with his cock yet and you were this buzzed out already.

“Here, baby.”

“Huh?” You blinked at him and before you could react, his lips were on yours and your surprised gasp let him slip his tongue inside.

“Mmhf.” Your head was spinning. The salty yet sweet taste of yourself on his tongue was sinfully erotic and his eagerness to kiss you made you kiss him back. Mingi sucked on your bottom lip before parting from you, his forehead resting on yours as you two caught your breaths.

“So?” Yunho slowly let your legs down, letting in fall limp around Mingi’s body. “How do you taste?”

“G-good.” You panted, releasing your death grip on Yunho’s thighs, the way your nails dug into them left crescent marks on his skin.

“Awe, is our pretty girl tired? Too tired to take my cock?”

“N-no.” Your body felt light and heavy at the same time but even after cumming around his fingers and Mingi overstimulating you. Your walls craved for more. It needed more than just his fingers. “Want you. Please.”

With Yunho, you never ever had to ask twice.

And…he was right earlier. The three of you couldn’t make it to the bedroom. So here you all were, way past the midnight hour with you sandwiched between the two men, their hips moving in tandem with one another as they stuffed you full. Your arms hung loosely over Yunho’s shoulders as Mingi’s big strong arms hoisted you up. Yunho was rutting up into your leaking cunt, his lengthy cock hitting your g-spot easily while Mingi fucked your other tight hole, the gunner praising you for taking his fat cock after he had prepped you for him.

There was nothing coherent in your head. All you could think about was how their cocks were rubbing your insides and how good they felt inside of you. It was so much.

“S-so full.” You moaned, head falling back onto Mingi’s shoulder as they bounced you on their cocks, the wet smacking sounds echoing in the shared shower room.

“You’re taking us so well, sweetheart.” Yunho praised, groaning when your walls began to grip him tighter and feeling Mingi’s thick cock fill you up on the other end. “I’m close. Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. Me too.” Mingi whined from behind you, his strong hips smacking against your ass. “Let Yunho fill you up, baby. I want you so full of his cum you’re leaking for days.”

Mingi’s words turned Yunho on even more, making him chase his release, his hips digging deeper into you.

“P-please, please, please.” That’s all you could say as your body buzzed and craved for them as if you could never be satiated. You felt like you were going insane with how good they felt inside of you.

Their thrusts in perfect rhythm with each other and how perfectly shaped Yunho’s cock was to hit your g-spot effortlessly, had you coming undone so easily. You came hard, mind going completely blank as your orgasm crashed over you. Every fiber of your being was electrified and when you came to it, you could feel that soothing familiar warmth filling your belly.

The two men panted as they finished inside your body that welcomed them. Months of pent-up sexual frustration finally being satiated and emptied inside of you.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” Yunho sighed into your neck, completely emptying every last drop of his release into you, marking you in his own way. “We all did. I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself.”

“I-it’s okay.” You murmured, limp in Mingi’s and Yunho’s hold. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you all for so long.”

You winced when Mingi slowly slipped his cock from your ass, his cum leaking out your abused hole and when Yunho did the same, a mess of white fell onto the bathroom floor but Yunho was quick to carry you bridal style before your limbs could touch the floor.

“You two…I swear…” you murmured, letting the two take care of you just like clockwork. Like all the times before.

They were gentle as they cleaned you up, this time under the rain of water from one of the shower stalls. Mingi helped wrap you into a fuzzy soft grey towel before Yunho handed you over to him so he could dry himself before they retreated to your bedroom since Mingi’s bed was sheetless after the mess the three of you made.

“So…” Yunho was the first to speak when you three were snuggled under the comforter of your bed, the two of them on either side of you to keep you warm. “Is it back to baseline?”

You frowned, blinking sleepily at his handsome face while Mingi cuddled you from behind.

“Yeah…normal Mingi libido.”

Not having the energy to retort, you only shook your head and smiled. You were tired but you were happy and safe in their arms. Yunho’s hand on your hip lazily caressed you while Mingi had his arm draped over your waist and he pressed his naked torso on your back, preferring your body warmth over anything else to keep him warm and fall asleep to.

“Hongjoong is going to kill us,” Mingi muttered, his own eyes unable to remain open any longer.

“Kill us? No.” Yunho yawned, noticing how you had fallen asleep already with such a peaceful look on your pretty face. “But he’ll definitely give us an earful…or a sex ban.”

The docks at the outskirts of Xileon were quiet as dawn began to break. It was almost unbelievable that the planet with its infamous capital called the Night City actually experienced daylight. The parties have to end somehow and they go back to their day lives only to repeat and indulge in what they could only do in the dark, and in Night City, no night was ever the same.

And yet as the sun rose and began to light up the black sky, hints of dark navy and light blue faded in as the morning came and Wooyoung admired the view from the window of the dining kitchen area of the mid-deck. The scent of coffee that he had begun to brew right after he woke wafted through the air. It’s been a while since he’s seen a morning sky.

Xileon’s sky could not compare to Jupiter’s. It was prettier and glowed with the aurora that floated in the dark starry sky every night.

“You’re up early.” Seonghwa entered the kitchen, and his black silk robe that matched his loungewear flowed elegantly with his movements.

“Well, someone’s got to cook for you all.” Wooyoung shrugged moving from the dining area with the big window that looked out the sky to the kitchen. “I’m never letting Yunho in my kitchen again.”

“He made a delicious dinner that time.” Seonghwa chuckled, defending the tall mechanic and medic of their crew.

“But the mess he left?” Wooyoung shook his head, opening the fridge and grabbing the ingredients he might need to start breakfast. “It’s like a hurricane destroyed the place. Anyways, what does Y/N like to have for breakfast?”

Seonghwa paused pouring himself a cup of coffee momentarily, not expecting that question from Wooyoung this morning. His lips curved into a small pleased smile.

“She likes sweet things. French toast with berries if we have them or pancakes. She’s not a picky eater but those are just some of her favorites.”

Wooyoung bit his lip as he went through the cupboards and the pantry.

“So what are we having for breakfast?” Seonghwa asked, taking his seat at the dining table by the window, appreciating the view.

Tossing the bag of flour onto the kitchen counter, Wooyoung grabbed a bowl from the cupboards before going to the fridge and deciding that the frozen berries would make do.

“Pancakes.”

Seonghwa smiled at his response, not needing to say anything more and letting the former heir of a duke to his work while he sipped his coffee and enjoyed the calm morning and the view of the rising sun.

“I smell coffee.” The cheery voice announced the very familiar sunshine like presence.

“Just pour yourself a cup and don’t touch anything.” Wooyoung narrowed his eyes in jest at Yunho who walked in with a bounce in his step.

“Hey, I made a mess one time.”

“And it will be the last time.”

Yunho only smiled and got himself coffee before joining Seonghwa at the unset table. Wooyoung focused on cooking and as the sun rose higher and higher, the members were arriving in the dining area one by one.

Jongho entered with Hongjoong, the two talking about something in the magazine their youngest was holding. Probably another thing Jongho added to his wishlist for upgrades to the ship.

Yeosang helped set the table before joining the lighthearted conversation with the others.

Mingi was the last to enter groaning about how bright the sunlight was as he was slipping a black shirt over his torso.

“Y/N?” San asked, quietly taking note of the reddish love bites on Mingi’s neck and before the gunner’s shirt covered his body, they all got a glimpse of the long pink lines on his back.

“I didn’t want to wake her so I’ll get her breakfast and go back.” He went to the fridge and gulped down some milk from the carton.

“Use a glass, you heathen.” Wooyoung clicked his tongue and focused on serving up the pancakes on a big plate.

“Oh, you made pancakes. Nice timing. She loves those.” Mingi’s eyes stared at the fresh from the pan confectionary and took his and your plates to get a serving for you both. “Where’s the tray?” He rummaged through the kitchen, a vein popping on Wooyoung’s forehead at the clang and clatter of items in HIS kitchen.

“Get her some orange juice for the vitamin C,” Yunho told Mingi, opening the Xileon newspaper.

“Got it.” Mingi did as he said, getting a glass and pouring the orange juice in it.

Wooyoung was glad he and the pink haired man were not making eye contact, and that there was no weird vibe from Mingi’s end. He must admit, Mingi was a caring boyfriend if he was going out of his way to bring you breakfast in bed. Breakfast that he made.

“We’ll be departing Xileon by noon so if any of you need to get things, get it done before then,” Hongjoong informed the crew. “And get back to Yeosang so he can take note of the expenses.”

Mingi was focused as he crossed the dining area with the tray in his hands, steadying his hands.

“Relay the info to Y/N,” Hongjoong added.

“Mhm.” Mingi hummed in response.

“Oh, and Mingi…”

“Yeah?”

Hongjoong without looking at Mingi and opening the book he has been reading the past month, and sounding like a father scolding his son, spoke.

“Make sure to close the door next time.”

Mingi groaned as the rest of the crew cackled and laughed at his embarrassment, and he quickly vacated the room. He wasn’t going to let their teasing ruin his very good morning.

Wooyoung sat with the rest once the big plate of pancakes for everyone with the side of maple syrup and frozen berries were on the table, ready to be eaten. He sat in front of Yunho who had his ever-present soft puppy smile on his face, which was very deceiving.

“I finished up the repairs on Mingi’s gun last night by the way,” Yunho told him, dousing the pancakes on his plate with a lot of maple syrup. “It still is a mystery to me how whatever weapons he borrows or uses come back broken or in need of repairs.”

“He’s a big guy and a clumsy person,” Yeosang commented.

“But he never misses his shots though.�� San added.

Wooyoung tuned them out as he thought about how so far, everything was okay. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be when he saw Mingi and maybe if he avoided you, his infatuation will fade away. It won’t be forever but just until he doesn’t think about burying his face in your pussy or having you bounce on his cock—

“You okay?” Yeosang asked when they doing the dishes together in the kitchen, the rest of the crew going off to do their individual schedules.

“Um, why wouldn’t I be?” Woo replied, washing and soaping the dishes while Yeosang rinsed and dried them.

“Should I point out the obvious?”

Yeosang was met with silence and he decided to go on.

“You’re kind of snappy but not too snappy. You’re nice enough because you just made pancakes out of the blue when I was sure you were going to make the usual eggs and bacon.” He was speaking his facts fast, something he got from Wooyoung who did the same when he wanted to prove his point. “Someone probably told you that Y/N likes sweet things which I’m guessing was Seonghwa since after you, he’s the second to wake up early among us. You made the pancakes for—“

“Ah! Okay, stop! I should’ve never taken you under my wing. It’s biting me back in the ass.” He scrubbed the plates with the sponge harder. “What’s your point anyways?”

Yeosang observed his best friend. His ears were slightly red although he had an annoyed pout on his face. He wondered how safe he needed to play it …

“You’re trying to impress her.”

“I made her one of her favorite dishes. I do that for you guys from time to time too…” Wooyoung trailed off, trying to stop himself from confiding with his childhood best friend. Which was hard. Back then, they told each other everything and when they reunited, it’s like nothing changed. “Maybe…I am trying to impress her. She is a member of our crew, is she not? I’m new.”

He opened up to Yeosang who smiled triumphantly to himself.

“Plus, I didn’t really make a good impression on her…when I danced with her, we got really…uh yeah…and when I didn’t know you guys knew her, I was whipping out bill after bill in that room.” Then the image of you tugging that purple lace panties to the side flashed before his eyes again.

“So you feel bad for playing into Y/N’s stripper cover? We played along because we couldn’t compromise her and risk putting her in danger. You’re not at any fault, Woo.“

He did have a point but speaking of faults, Wooyoung did have one and he didn’t want Yeosang to know that he saw you and Mingi then proceeded to jack off in his room to the sound of you both.

“I guess.”

“And if you’re a little attracted to her it’s fine,” Yeosang added which made his friend’s eyes widen.

“W-what?”

“We all are. She’s an attractive woman and when you get to know her, you’ll see that she’s lovely and sweet. She cares for all of us and she will care for you too, if you’ll let her.”

Yeosang hoped that that was enough to hint at the relationship they all had with you and that Wooyoung’s brain could put two and two together.

“Can I ask you something about her?” Wooyoung asked, handing Yeosang the last rinsed dish.

“Shoot.”

“San…” Wooyoung began, unsure of how to tread the subject. He wasn’t sure if he was analyzing it too much and what he assumed could be completely wrong. “San and Y/N knew each other before she joined the crew—

“If you want to ask about their past, I think it’s better you ask her or Sannie…or both. It’s their story to tell not mine.” Yeosang cut him off with a gentle smile, something that was natural to him despite having been a Prince.

“I was meaning to ask San about that but what I’m asking you is different.” He wiped his hands on his navy apron before taking it off and folding it neatly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I just couldn’t help but notice the way San looks at her.” Actually all of them but it was San or the Captain’s gaze towards you that really stood out to him.

“Like she’s the universe?” Yeosang tilted his head to the side.

“Like…he’s in love with her.”

Yeosang thought of how to respond to that and his pause did not go unnoticed by Wooyoung so when his best friend finally reacted to what he said, he knew that his little speculation hit a spot.

“Ah…” Yeosang trailed off awkwardly, his eyes shifting away and anywhere from him.

He knew what that meant. Yeosang was never good at hiding secrets or denying things because after knowing him since they were children, he knew that little action his eyes did when he was meant to hide something.

“So he is in love with her?” Wooyoung pressed as they headed to the lounge together.

“They’re very close friends.” Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck. It really wasn’t his place to tell.

But his evading of questions only caused Wooyoung to create conspiracy theories that were far yet close to the truth.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

Speak of the devil.

San with his dark cropped hair and oversized black fluffy sweater jogged towards them. “You guys wanna come with me when I head out? I just came back from Y/N’s room and she asked me to get some stuff for her.”

“Uh…” Yeosang wasn’t sure if that was a good day but then he felt Wooyoung’s hands on his shoulders.

“Sure! The more the merrier right?” Wooyoung grinned at the former assassin.

But even though they did head out and got what each of them needed, Wooyoung did not get the answers he expected to get from San. He got nothing. Nada. Zilch. It didn’t help that Yeosang just smiled at him whenever he questioned San’s behavior which was cheerful. He had a swing in his step as they shopped and when he saw something, be it candy or apparel and accessories you might like, he’d turn to Yeosang and say ‘This would be pretty on Y/N’ or ‘Y/N likes this color’.

So as days passed and they safely departed Xileon, Wooyoung concluded that San was in love with you and that he didn’t act on it and disguised his love with the long friendship you guys had as merely platonic.

Wooyoung patted himself on the back for connecting the dots.

Every longing stare he gave you made him pity San. Even though you smiled back at him with such warmth, Wooyoung concluded with such surety that his one-sided love must hurt him deeply but he settled for being on the sidelines. To love you from afar while Mingi loved you and made you smile.

Yeah. Wooyoung was 100 percent sure this was the tension he was feeling from both of you. Now, next on his suspect list was Hongjoong.

“So pieces of the Cromer have been scattered across the galaxy, I’ve managed to find one but the others may have already fallen in the hands of other travelers or the Black Market,” you spoke from where you stood next to Yunho, tapping on the hologram of information and images you uploaded to the Destiny’s server. You swiped away the bracket of Jupiter, canceling it out from where the other pieces could be. “Luckily, I found three of the four possible locations.”

“Three?” Seonghwa’s jaw dropped a little, the shock in his eyes hardening to concern. It was too good to be true…and what did you go through to get all this info?

“That’s my girl.” Hongjoong grinned, the information you were briefing them with made him swell with pride.

Wooyoung glanced at Mingi for his reaction when the Captain called you his…but the gunner was completely focused on your presentation.

“It’s kinda scary how you were able to get all this.” Jongho shook his head quickly, taken aback by your ability to gather information that would’ve taken them years to find.

“Find the right lead and it’ll lead you to more.” You responded with a small smile.

“No hope for the fourth location?” Hongjoong urged you to continue.

“That’s what’s tricky…since the entire civilization of that location is artificial and they don’t orbit a system…”

“Don’t tell me—,” Jongho’s cute round eyes widened further.

“It’s in KWANGYA, most likely N-City.” You enlarged the holographic image of the artificial never stagnant artificial planet. “It’s hard to pinpoint where they might be right now in the galaxy…So I think it’s best we focus on the other locations.”

They were left speechless. This was crucial information to their Captain but while they were shocked and processing what you gathered, Hongjoong’s grin never left his face. It was rather unsettling that expression of his.

“Ondion, Gevora and…Sector 1.” You listed them down and Yeosang moved from where he stood to stand next to you so that he could toggle the map and begin calculations to the next destination.

“What would it be doing in Sector 1?” San frowned deeply.

“I don’t know…but I’m not looking forward to going there.” You fiddled with your fingers behind you, hiding the extent of your distaste for the planet.

“You won’t have to come off the ship when we get there’,” Hongjoong interjected. “I know it may be hard for you but you can stay here with San while the rest of us look for the missing piece:”

“N-no I’ll be fine. Do you really think I’ll let you all on that planet without me? It’s dangerous. There’s a reason it doesn’t have a proper name.”

“What’s Sector 1?” Wooyoung asked. He’s never ever heard of that place but it clearly hit a nerve with you.

“One of the layers of hell.” You uttered with such venom, your eyes void of the warmth and gentleness they had when you looked at any of them.

“We’ll be going to Gevora first,” Yeosang’s voice brought you out of that dark growing cloud before it churned into a hurricane. The former Prince discreetly without alarming anyone stepped closer to you. His gentle fingers brushed over your knuckles. Your hands had clutched into fists behind your back with nails digging into your palms. “I’ll set the coordinates by your command, Captain.” He slipped his hand in yours and all Wooyoung could see was how that empty and dark look in your eyes disappeared.

“You may do so, Yeo.” He raised his hand to gesture his permission.

Hongjoong got up from where he had been sitting and glanced at you. “We’ll be heading to Gevora. Since our hyperdrive is still currently being fixed, the journey will take approximately…” he looked at Yeosang who had a neutral expression.

“A month.” The crew's navigator replied to their Captain.

“Make any needed preparations for then. Rest up and when we’re close, we’ll have another meeting before we land.”

Hongjoong left the bridge and disappeared into his office. San who was next to Wooyoung made movement to go to you, only for Mingi to reach you first.

“You okay, baby?” He kissed your temple.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” With Yeosang’s comforting touch and Mingi’s concern, it was hard to entertain any horrible thought about Sector 1. “I just really hate that place.”

San remained by Wooyoung’s side.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and coddle our pretty princess,” Jongho went up to you and embraced you briefly. “I have to fix the hyperdrive system.”

“Awe, don’t work too hard, Jongho. I’ll come see you to make sure you take a break.” You told the mechanic. “Anyways, don’t worry too much about me. I’m going to go to my room and start up on that book Hwa gave me.”

Mingi followed right after you as everyone dispersed, off to do their own agendas.

“You okay?” Wooyoung asked San on their way to the gym.

“That’s out of the blue. Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiled softly. “Was just worried about Y/N. That’s all.”

“Sector 1 seemed to be a touchy topic.”

“Well because it is,” San confirmed and Wooyoung was suddenly in full alert. “It’s where we were trained.”

From what San had opened up to him about his past, Wooyoung felt his stomach drop. “You sure you’re okay?”

San smiled warmly at him. “Why wouldn’t I be? In fact, I’m really happy. Y/N’s back where she belongs. Safe with us. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Wooyoung bit his tongue and fought the urge to say ‘You sure about that?’. Successfully he did so.

“Anyways for today’s, sparring session, I’m going to train you to improve your hand-to-hand combat.” San changed the subject quickly. “You’re good with a sword and not too bad with a gun but your unarmed combat needs improvement.”

“Ugh…you’re going to count how many times I fall on my ass again, aren’t you?” Wooyoung groaned.

“Of course I am.” San chuckled, his eyes smiling with mischief. “If you think hand-to-hand combat with me is difficult, try Y/N. Before you can even pull a punch, you’ll be kissing the ground.”

“What are you doing up?” Your voice broke the silence in the dark kitchen, the only light coming from the open refrigerator.

Wooyoung swore in his head as he felt his heart race.

“I- I could ask you the same.” He took a deep breath before turning around, feeling his throat dry at the sight of your bare legs. You were wearing a black thin sweater that was far too big on you and he definitely was sure that he saw San wear it…Do you borrow their clothing as a comfort thing? Would you want any of his? He needed to do laundry.

He averted his eyes immediately…his throat drying up as he felt guilt shiver up his spine after what he had done again tonight. After what you and Mingi did again.

“Water…and maybe a midnight snack.” You replied, walking over to the fridge, bare feet on the cold floor as you stood next to Wooyoung. “You?”

“Midnight snack.”

“Ooo, so what does Jung Wooyoung have for a midnight snack?” Your tone was friendly and inviting, hoping that it’d calm whatever reason it was that made Wooyoung seemed nervous.

“Well, I made a batch of strawberries dipped in chocolate when we left Xileon. It’s probably set by now.” He opened the chiller to see the tray of dessert he made, feeling proud to see how pretty the dusted pink sugar glitter settled with the chocolate.

He took the tray out and set it on the kitchen counter, your eyes on the pretty strawberries lined up in organized rows.

“Here have one,” he pinched the leaf part and held it your way for you to take.

Not thinking much of it, you took a couple of steps forward and took a bite, unaware of how your lips brushing his fingertips made Wooyoung gulp.

“Mhm.” You closed your eyes, moaning at the sweet burst of the strawberry with chocolate in your mouth. For you, it may have been a brief moment but for Wooyoung, it was as if time slowed down and your lips wrapped around the lucky strawberry made him think of how pretty your lips would be wrapped around his—

“Oh my god, that’s delicious.” You squeaked happily, doing this little cute shimmy at how much you liked the dessert he made.

“U-Uh yeah. Thanks.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and played it cool.

“So how does a former noble know how to make such treats?” You wondered out loud, flashing him a smile that made his heart flutter. “Let alone cook. Yeosang told me you’re the one making the meals around here now.” You picked up another piece of strawberry. “I really loved the pancakes on my first day back, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m glad you loved them. And to answer your question, I hung around the kitchens a lot as a kid.”

“And your father let you do that?” You tilted your head, leaning against the counter.

“No, I did what any good kid being told not to do something do.” He picked up a strawberry and took a bite, missing the way your eyes flashed to lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he ate. “I didn’t listen.”

There was a beat of silence as you admired his handsome features. He was really handsome. Was being handsome part of the requirements of being in this crew or something?

“I heard you trained with Sannie today,” you looked him up and down, noticing the light bruise on his arm. Your brows knitted as your lips pursed at the sight and reached out to brush your fingers on the skin lightly. “You’re not that badly bruised. Which means you must be better than the average trained fighter.”

Wooyoung felt a rush of electricity wash over him with your light touch and your movement made the wide boat neckline of the sweater slip your left shoulder, showcasing the dark ruby marks along your neck and collarbone.

They were fresh…

“I heard you’re quite the master combatant.” He couldn’t help but take note that you’re braless. There was no sign of a strap on your delicate shoulders.

“I wouldn’t say master,” you hopped onto the counter, the edge of the sweater rising higher over your pretty thighs. “Did Sannie say that I was?”

“He hinted it.”

“Awe, how sweet of him.” You giggled, taking another piece of strawberry and holding it out to him. “Don’t make me eat by myself.”

Wooyoung matched your playful smile and went to pick up the strawberry but you pulled it back and away from him. There was a glint in your eye and in his view, you were glowing. The same magnetic feeling he felt when he saw you in the club returned and he inched closer to you til his hands rested on the countertop on either side of you. He could get a whiff of your natural sweet scent that had a hint of masculine musk which made sense since you and Mingi go at it like fucking bunnies and he heard you two every time. Turns out the room across his was yours. When he made that discovery he didn’t know if he was happy about it or hated it.

Now that he was closer, your legs parted to make room for him. One more step and he was in between them.

He kept his gaze locked on your face, trying to read your next move as well as trying to take in every detail of your features. He was so lost in the moment, he forgot the fact you were with Mingi. Was it so bad that he wanted you too?

You brought the strawberry to his lips, brushing the chocolate-dipped tip on them, tracing their plump curve. He looked into your eyes for permission, not sure why he did so. But your delighted nod at the gesture made him forget about that thought as his pretty lips parted and he took a bite.

“Good boy.” You purred, the same way you did when you two were grinding your hips on one another the night you two danced.

The way the praise fell from your lips sent heat straight to his cock and when he took his bite and met your eyes again, there was this thinning string inside of him that was ready to snap. Taking away the stem and leaving the strawberry in his mouth, he swallowed as he watched you toss the stem into the bin and as if his predicament couldn’t get worse, you licked the excess strawberry juice and melted chocolate off your fingers.

Wooyoung swore and cursed silently, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. He already jacked off in his room…and yet he was getting turned on by this simple interaction. Well, it wasn’t simple. In fact, it was rather intimate. What was going on? Were you flirting with him?

“So-,” he cleared his throat, breaking away from your gaze, and looked down, only to be met with the sight of naked soft, pillowy thighs and the hem of the flimsy sweater just a couple of inches away from showing him what he had been thinking about since he’s seen it in the private dance room. “You and Mingi?”

“What about me and Mingi?” You tilted your head, trying to meet his gaze again because you thought his eyes were pretty. Where was the arrogant man you had danced with?

“How long have you been together?”

“Almost two years.” You hopped off the counter and went to grab a small bowl, deciding to get some for San who was waiting in your bedroom… long enough.

“That’s a long time.”

You chuckled, moving over to the fridge and completely aware of Wooyoung’s eyes on you. Why was he being so jumpy around you? Or reserved? This really wasn’t the flirt you danced with and you had thought bringing him closer with your little playful strawberry trick would tease that out of him.

Smirking to yourself as you opened the fridge door, you bent over and pretended to look through the drinks selection. Wooyoung sucked in a breath as he saw the hem of the sweater rise dangerously high and he almost thought you weren’t wearing underwear til he saw black lace hugging your plump ass and covering your mound. It would be so easily to slip the flimsy fabric aside to see what he missed.

“Well, anyways, I should be heading back.” You grabbed a bottle of water and stood up straight, closing the fridge door. “It was nice talking to you, Woo.” You smiled at him, getting close to him on your way out. “Thank you for the strawberries.” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you leaned close to give him a small peck on the cheek before saying goodnight and heading back to your room.

Wooyoung watched you leave, heart racing and mind all jumbled up with thoughts of you, with what happened. When he saw you bent over like that, he immediately thought of how pretty you’d look bent over the island counter as he eats your pussy out.

Snapping out of it, he goes to put away the tray of strawberries but hisses when he felt the fabric of his sweats shuffle against his groin. Wooyoung groaned as he glanced down. He was bulging against his briefs.

On his way back to his room, he contemplated on fucking his fist again or letting his hard-on die down on its own. He stopped by your door and listened for any sounds of you and Mingi. A couple of seconds passed and he heard nothing. Okay, so maybe he won’t jack off…but the image of your ass in those black lace panties was so fresh that maybe another round won’t hurt.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Jongho’s voice made him jump away from your door, the youngest just turned the hall and saw him just standing there.

“Oh, I was just heading to bed.”

Jongho narrowed his eyes at Wooyoung. “Okay…weird. I’m too tired to question you right now. So just…okay. Goodnight.” The mechanic yawned, trudging towards his bedroom. He didn’t want to say much so that Wooyoung’s current assumptions would change, he didn’t want to lose his bet with San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong.

He wondered just how long Wooyoung would agonise over his infatuation with you and how long it’d take for him to find out the relationship you had with all of them.

Oh, and most excitingly, how and what would happen when he breaks?

-- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly famgor; with you <3

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

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diddybok · 9 months

Note

i’m actually obsessed with the kinks drabble u did, can u pls do it for the maknae line 🙏🏽

i picked yours to be the one to hold the absolute chaos that is abt to unfold. so i hope you were waiting patiently my love coz here it is!

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: maknae line x gn!reader

➩genre(s): smut, pwp

➩warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), penetration (not specified what hole, this one is for all the delulu’s out there) , kinks: mask, praise, degradation, oral fixation.

➩wc: 10.3k (10331)

➩author’s note: here it is. the long awaited maknae line. this is the second longest(?) fic i’ve done. but now i can continue working on my seungmin fic that’s a part of the afterglow series. now THAT is something to wait for *lip bite emoji*

➩part(s): previous

jisung | mask | 2.1k (2188) words

“Ji! Can you come here for a second?” You call from the bathroom. Your hands are currently around your back trying to do up the zipper of your costume, but it won’t budge.

Jisung comes running in, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

“What happened? I came as fast as I could!” He asks, scanning you up and down.

You furrow your eyebrows at his dramatics before shaking your head softly. You turn away from him and point to your back.

“Zipper won’t go up. Can you try for me?”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

As Jisung grabs the zip and tugs it a few times, it finally closes. You thank him and step back, assessing yourself in the mirror.

You and Jisung were invited to a halloween party and you decided, obviously, to go in a couple’s costume. It’s your favourite pastime for both of you really. Pretending as if you two are a couple when really you’re just best friends, but the public doesn’t need to know that.

You also told his parents that the two of you were dating as a joke, but he doesn’t know that. You are exceptionally good at keeping up with the whole ‘significant other’ appearances.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be the best dressed at the party and we haven’t even arrived yet.” Jisung says, flexing in the mirror.

You stifle a laugh as you admire your handiwork. You were in charge of picking the costume and making sure to get the props and makeup correct. You decided that you wanted to go as Ghost and Soap from Call of Duty.

Okay, not exactly a couple’s costume, but you wouldn’t stop pestering Jisung to be Ghost saying that he would look good in a skull mask until he finally caved and agreed.

Now you’re having regrets as he is feeling himself a little too much and he is looking a little too good doing so. You have yet to see him with his full mask and headgear on as he requested for you to give him a black smokey eye.

You use your thumb to wipe some of the excess eyeshadow that rests on the top of his cheek and you give him one playful tap. He thanks you and immediately grabs the rest of his costume.

What a good job you did because he is starting to seriously look too sexy for his own good. You can barely look at him as he assembles his mask and headgear. Then he turns to face you, his arms out wide.

Oh.

Wow.

This is certainly a strange feeling you are experiencing inside of you right now. He looks, to put it plainly, delectable. And you seriously would want nothing more than to take a bite out of him-

“Y/n? Let’s go~” Jisung says, clicking in front of your face.

You shake those inappropriate thoughts from your brain. You are not to think of him that way, absolutely not.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The party most definitely helps to distract from the glory that is Jisung. You have loosened up a little, enjoying the music, people’s costumes and the atmosphere as a whole.

“Y/n! God I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We can’t be a couple’s costume if we’re constantly separated, you know.” Jisung yells over the loud music, frowning.

You look up at him, his beautiful big brown eyes standing out from the white mask. Perhaps convincing him that this would be a good costume was not good for your mental wellbeing after all.

“Yeah…maybe.”

“What do you mean yeah maybe? Just yes.” he grabs ahold of your hand and pulls you close. You can smell his cologne, the one you bought him for his birthday. You take a deep breath. “Come, let’s go upstairs for a bit.” He says starting to lead you towards the staircase.

Your eyes widen and you try to plant your feet on the ground.

“Wait, just us? Like alone? Why?” You stammer.

He just looks at you as if you aren’t thinking straight. He tries to move you again but you don’t budge. You see him roll his eyes before you let out a questionable noise of surprise as he picks you up and carries you up the stairs.

He jiggles the handles of a few doors before finding an unlocked room. Being mindful not to bash your head or your feet, he manoeuvres his way through the doorway and places you gently on the bed. As you settle the unwanted swarm of butterflies in your stomach, Jisung goes over to the door and locks it.

“Why are we up here Ji?” You ask, your hands fiddling with a zip on your costume as you look around the room.

He takes off his helmet to free his hair; his mask shortly follows and he blinks to adjust to the light. Running a hand through the messy locks, he sits down beside you on the bed.

“Just needed a moment away y’know? It was getting a bit much down there. You really had to pick a costume that would draw all the attention to us huh?” He says nudging you with his elbow.

You wince slightly, rubbing the side of your ribs before squinting at him.

“You told me you wanted to be the centre of attention. I should be hearing a thank you, not complaints.” Jisung shakes his head at your words.

“I think it’s this mask, or the combat gear, or both. It’s certainly getting a rile off people.” He says in all seriousness. You miss the way his eyes lingers on you with a pointed look before they cast away to a corner of the room.

“Well of course. A mask automatically makes somebody look way more fuckable.” You say nonchalantly.

He turns to you, a smug smile on his face.

“Are you saying I’m only fuckable with this mask on?” Jisung says in a sultry tone.

You blink, seemingly caught like a deer in headlights. Has his voice always sounded so enticing?

“You and I both know that isn’t the case. But it damn sure helps your case.” Jisung gawks at this. His arm moving behind your waist and settling dangerously close to your ass as he leans in closer to you.

“My case huh?” He tilts his head at you, eyes squinting slightly. “You mean to say you wouldn’t fuck me in all my glory right now?” He questions, his voice nearing a whisper.

“Are you drunk?”

“Off you, yeah.”

You roll your eyes and lightly smack his chest. He grabs your hand gently and tugs your arm, making you involuntarily fall into his chest. You try to move back, but his other arm lowers you down onto the bed, caging you in. He smirks at you.

“Want me to put the mask on?” He removes his grasp on your hand and his fingers dance along your jaw. “That way it doesn’t technically count as me, but Ghost, who gets to have his way with you.” He purrs.

What the fuck is in the air tonight? Is Phil Collins playing somewhere?! You awkwardly chuckle.

“You know we’re only supposed to act like a couple in front of other people right? Nobody is having their way with anybody.” You say more to yourself rather than to him.

You knew it was a lie the minute it came out of your mouth. Now your costume is broken from the sheer force of Jisung and his manly ways of needing to rid you of your clothes.

“Fuck, fuck yes. You’re so fucking tight baby, shit~” Jisung, or rather ‘Ghost’ says as he grinds down into you.

The way he calls you baby makes your heart flutter. It’s not as if he hasn’t before, but those times he wasn’t, well, in you.

You really can’t believe he is inside of you right now. Inside of you whilst he adorns that incredibly sexy skull mask.

His deep grunts and the sound of the headboard banging against the wall over the muffled music from downstairs sends a shot of ecstasy straight into your veins.

“Bet you couldn’t fuckin’ keep it together at the thought of me in this mask huh? I seen the way you were looking at me downstairs darling, fuck, just had to get you all to myself. Couldn’t take much more of your pretty eyes looking at me like that any longer.” Jisung says as he repositions himself onto his knees.

He grabs your waist, your back arching off the bed as he uses you like his personal fleshlight.

The sounds of your moans are sure to make anybody who walks by stop and listen. No doubt blushing profusely whilst needing to quickly flee to give you your privacy.

Your hands reach up, grasping anything they could get a hold of. You manage to grab a buckle from his helmet and you lift your head to look at his mask.

“Ah fuck Y/n. Please don’t look at me like that. You’re squeezin’ so tight around me every time you look at my face. Driving me fuckin’ insane baby.” Jisung says, his fingers digging deeper into your waist as he pounds into you harder.

His grunts turn into that of a whine. His breath no doubt, creating condensation inside of his mask.

You run your fingers over the dips and curves of his mask. His hand trails to your back, lifting your body up so that your chest is flush against him.

Not casting your eyes away from the mask, you begin to grind down into his lap. His hands settle on the curve of your back, his fingers harshly gripping the supple flesh.

“Y/n—”

You just wrap your arms around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder as you start to bounce up and down. Jisung gladly meets you halfway by thrusting up into you at full force.

“Baby I can’t, not when you feel this good. I’m, shit, I’m gonna come Y/n.” Jisung whines, his breath becoming short.

“Me too Ji. I’m about to—”

“Come with me Y/n. Please, please I need you to feel good with me baby.” Jisung says. He releases one of his hands from you and he throws his helmet and mask off.

The sight with him wearing the mask is certainly one to engrave into your brain. But Jisung with his hair messy, eyes full blown with desire; only for you. Sweat dripping down his hairline and his plump lips parted as he releases quick breaths is something you would pay to see over and over again.

His hand makes his way to your chest, pinching and twisting the hardened bud before enveloping it with his mouth.

The sensation of his mouth on your nipple and his relentless fucking up into makes you see stars. You throw your head back, stilling your movements as you come.

If Jisung wasn’t catching feelings already then he did after he heard his name so gorgeously mewled from your lips; sending him over the edge as he pumped his load inside of you.

He shouldn't have, but he did. You simply felt just too good.

As you both come down from your high with heavy pants and small chuckles here and there, you assess the damage done.

Not to your relationship, but rather your clothes.

“So, through your fit of horny rage, did it occur to you that ripping apart my only costume that I brought would leave me topless?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow.

He looks down at your exposed chest, then at the floor where your broken top resides.

“Can’t you put it on and, y’know, just hold it tight whilst we find our way outta here?” He suggests.

You look down at the costume. Sure, some of it may be salvageable, doesn’t mean you want to hold it up to your chest and risk some drunkard bumping into you causing you to release your grip.

You get off the bed and start looking through the chest of drawers. Certainly not appropriate to do in somebody else’s home, but you don’t feel too bad considering their house will be trashed to a point where a large amount of money will need to be invested into replacing and fixing the damages.

Luckily, you find a shirt. You go to put it on but Jisung stops you. He takes the shirt from your hands and he opens it up, gently dressing you. Once he pulls the shirt over your head, he places a totally platonic kiss to your soft lips.

You tilt your head up at him, a silent question that he seems to understand.

“Because I want to take it off you, actually take my time with you when we get back and do it properly. Do it for real.” He says, his voice above a mere whisper.

Grabbing your hand, he leads the two of you out of the party. You can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face.

Who knew that Jisung wearing a mask would lead to this point? Not you, that’s for sure!

felix | praise | 2.2k (2205) words

The clock reads 01:36 am as you make your way to the skate park. The day was filled with sun and blue sky promising you a nice clear night sky covered in a blanket of stars. You climb the ramp and your senses are already filled with Felix.

“Thought you said you were gonna get here before me?” Felix teases not moving from his current position. You scoff lightly and wiggle your way into his arms and under the blanket.

Sure this may be slightly intimate for friends to do, but you know that Felix is a touchy person and you don’t mind all that much. Especially when he is the only one who agrees to stargaze with you at late hours of the night.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Time passes by and the two of you lay there listening to your playlist and the crickets.

“Lix?”

“Hmm?”

“I finished reading the book that I had been putting off for ages” You say smiling softly. You feel his head turn to look down at you, so you meet his eyes, tilting your head up from his chest.

“Seriously?” You nod. “Wow, I’m so proud of you angel! Did you enjoy it?” He gleams.

Your brain takes a second to process what he has just said. Your face faltering and your hand that laid flat on his chest, now bunching up his shirt.

“Y/n? Did you enjoy it?” Felix asks again, chuckling softly at your fist balling up his shirt. You could only release a small hum in agreement. Felix looks back up to the stars and you miss the cocky smirk that now adorns his face.

“Hm, you’ve made me proud so far. You wanna use your words and tell me what you liked about the book like the good little angel you are?” Felix speaks lowly.

You can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together because of the way he is praising you right now. What has gotten into him? More specifically, what has gotten into you?!

“Uh, I liked how there was a story in the book” You say hurriedly, looking at the stars. Anything but him. Felix lets out a roar of laughter which inevitably snaps you out of your trance.

“Why are you laughing?” You groan, unaware of the nonsensical sentence you had just said.

He just shakes his head and pulls you closer into his embrace. His hand starts to stroke at your side and you are suddenly becoming extremely aware of the proximity between the two of you.

“Oh look, a shooting star!” You lie, pointing up to the sky to try and ease the tension.

However, Felix, much to your dismay, was not looking up at the sky, but rather at you. Looking at you like either the only person in the world, or the tastiest sweet treat he has ever seen.

Does he want to dote on you or eat you? You really can’t decipher which as you study his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that…”

“You’re just so good, so so sweet. I love having you in my life. I’m always so proud of everything you do. Makes me wanna keep you all to myself and not let anyone experience your sweetness.” Felix says, his other hand lifting your chin up to look him in the eyes. Something you are really struggling to do.

You gulp, unsure of the feelings that bubble in the pit on your stomach.

“M’serious. You have the most gorgeous smile doll, so pretty.”

Butterflies? Perhaps butterflies are fluttering in your stomach.

“Especially when I’m the one that makes you smile. I shouldn’t say this, but I think about you all the time. You’re always on my mind, Y/n.” Felix says, his eyes now wondering to the twinkles in the sky.

You can’t breathe. You know he likes to get personal, but not like this. Never like this. Something is different with the way he’s talking to you. It has been ever since the last time you were at the skate park with him and he told you how pretty you looked.

It may have been a slip of the tongue, but you expressed to him that you like when he would praise you.

Now the little shit has found a way to constantly fluster you.

“All good thoughts I hope.” You say breaking the silence that was brewing between the two of you.

“Of course. Could never be anything bad with you angel. Even if I was upset with you, all you have to do is just look at me with those perfect eyes and I’m yours. Can’t ever stay mad at you,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

You sit up, looking down at him with your mouth agape. He turns to look towards you, his arm going under his head to prop it up. He’s clearly been going to the gym recently because his arms are getting toned, and bigger.

The protruding veins on his forearms are enough to make you drool.

“Why would you say all that to me knowing I can’t kiss you for it.” You say, crossing your arms. He chuckles at you.

“Who says you can’t?”

You look around the empty skate park as if the answer was obvious.

“Uh, literally the number one rule in the rulebook of best friends? It’s the same for everyone ever. You kiss and you open up a door of complications.” You say matter-of-factly.

Felix sits up, the blanket falling from his chest and pooling at his waist. He places his hand in the space between your crossed legs as he dips his head slightly under to look at you through his eyelashes.

“Fuck the rulebook. You know you and I don’t follow rules anyways. That’s why we hop the locked gate to the park almost every night.” He states, smirking.

You can’t argue with that. He got you there. Though you aren’t done putting up a fight so you shake your head to disagree with something you clearly agree with him on.

“Well yes, but no. We can’t kiss.”

“I wanna kiss you.” He says looking at your lips.

“I just said we can’t.”

“Let me kiss you Y/n.” He licks his lips, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitate, but stand strong in this battle as you shake your head.

“Lix, strictly prohibited.”

“One teeny tiny kiss can’t hurt.” He says, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Gosh he looks so pretty underneath the moonlight. He literally has a twinkle in his eye. Not to mention his own set of stars that are sprinkled across his nose and under his eyes.

“I…want to, but—”

“But you’re talking too much. Let’s busy your lips shall we? Be my good little angel and kiss me.” He whispers, bringing his hand to cup your cheek.

You aren’t the world’s strongest soldier as you close the distance between you. Your lips entwine with his and fall into a rhythmic pattern almost immediately.

He smiles into the kiss whispering a ‘There you go doll’ making you squeeze those thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

It’s cold outside, but the heat that your bodies emit are keeping you both warm as your body’s move in tandem. He kneels as you are on all fours, taking him down your throat.

“Y-yes~ So good. Just like that for me, doll. Just like that.” Felix moans as he pushes your head up and down his throbbing length.

Eager to please, you hollow your cheeks, taking him as far down your throat as you can get him. You moan around him and his head falls back as he holds your head down and thrusts into your mouth, making you gag.

“Good fucking angel. Taking me so far down that pretty little throat of yours. Shit, you gonna let me fuck your pretty hole? Please baby, make me happy and let me fuck you slow.”

He releases his hold on you and repositions himself. The blanket is now being used as a barrier between your naked bodies and the cold concrete beneath you.

Risky considering a guard could decide to do their job tonight and parole the park, but they never do. And that is at the farthest part of your brain as you now crawl up Felix’s body. Rubbing yourself up and down his length.

He releases a soft grunt, grabbing your hips forcing you to stop your movement.

“Don’t tease.” He warns as he raises his eyebrow at you giving you a firm smack on your ass.

You giggle, biting your lip as you attempt to move your hips once more before he smacks you harder this time.

“Naughty. Don’t start acting up now doll or else I won’t be so nice hm? Will you be good for me?” He asks lifting your hips slightly as he grabs his dick. He pumps it once before he runs it over your core a couple of times.

Realising he was waiting for your answer, you nod vigorously. He smiles at you before sinking you down on his cock, both of you letting out a long, breathy moan.

“So warm, so tight, fuck you’re choking me darling.” Felix growls, thrusting up into you slowly.

You rest your hands on his chest, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“Oh look at you. You wanna take the lead? Go on then doll. Ride me, but go slow baby yeah?” He lays still, his hands busying themselves with your nipples.

Taking his command, you start to ride him slowly. You close your eyes as you cherish each vein, each ridge of his dick as your walls envelope him.

“You look so pretty on top of me Y/n. Mm, I will never get this image out of my head. You’re made for me.” He pulls you down so that your chest lays on his as he starts to thrust up into you. He simply couldn’t resist the temptation that is you.

“Shit, can’t let you go after this. I’ll be damned if you fuck anybody else. You can’t, you’re mine now. Say it. Open your eyes, doll and tell me you’re mine.” He speaks into your ear before turning your head to face him.

“I’m yours Felix. Always have been.” You say with a soft whimper.

“Ah fuck~ Good. You’re damn right you always have been, my angel.” He starts to speed up, his hand trailing to between your legs to give you that extra stimulation.

“Lix I’m close.” You say, meeting his thrusts again as you whine loudly.

“I know baby, I know. Wanna come for me? Yeah you do. Be my good little angel and come on this cock.”

That was all you needed as you gushed all over him. Your legs quiver as you clench tightly around him.

“That’s it, feel good on my cock doll. You’re squeezin’ me so fucking tight love.” Felix’s voice is shaky as he wraps his arms around your waist and begins to chase his release.

He only lasts a couple more thrusts before he’s moaning your name so beautifully in your ear as he releases inside of you. You feel it, there’s so much as he empties his dick all in your hole.

You look down to where the two of you connect, his hips finally stilling as he breathes heavily. You lift up off of him and the mixture of your climax seeps out and drops back onto his length. Following put, Felix looks down at the mess you’ve both made, smiling smugly.

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing tightly before he smacks it.

“Clean it up.”

Without a second thought, you move down and settle between his legs. With your ass perched in the air, you don’t waste time as you lick up and down his length. Sucking his balls into your mouth as you collect every last drop of the result of tonight’s escapades.

He has to grab your hair and pull your head up, the feeling of your tongue and soft wet mouth too much for an overstimulated Felix.

“Okay okay, shit, you did such a good job for me. Never expected anything less from my angel. M’so proud of you, c’mere.” He says, opening his arms wide.

You move to lay beside him and he folds the both of you up in the blanket. To the best of his ability anyway.

You both calm down, your senses momentarily heightened. Stroking your arm he litters the side of your head and your forehead with kisses. He then lifts your chin up to face him, planting a deeply soft kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you. My little star,” Another kiss. “You shine brighter than all of the ones in the sky,” Another kiss. “I promise. You’re mine, I’m yours.” His voice, a softly spoken promise.

“I’m yours, you’re mine.” You say, smiling at him.

Felix doesn’t have to play pretend in the little world he has created that consists of you and him as now he gets to finally live in the reality of it. And you, you’re just happy to be a part of this new constellation that’s been written in the stars.

seungmin | degradation | 2.9k (2929) words

“Oh I would. I definitely would. ‘Til my jaw locks, the neighbours know their name, the wallpaper peels off the wall. You would need at least ten big bodied people to try to pry me off of them. I am so serious.” You practically drool.

You were showing Seungmin edits of your current celebrity crushes, having said extremely vulgar things about them and just what you would do for the past thirty minutes.

And no, you do not care if these said crushes may also consist of pixelated characters from games. If a person is attractive, they are attractive. You are not fussy.

Seungmin on the other hand has had to deal with his inbox of all his social media being full of edits that you bombard him with. Safe to say he is sick of it.

“You are disgusting” Seungmin groans.

“Yep. They so could have me in any position”

“Have you no shame?”

“Any day of the week.”

“Y/n, stop.”

“For them I am simply a hole-”

“Jesus fucking christ! Can you for once in your life not act like a fucking slut?” Seungmin questions, raising his voice slightly.

Oh. Oh.

You stop dead in your tracks, gulping loudly. You don’t say another word. Fearful for if you open your mouth, you will plead him to say it again.

“What now you’re silent?” He scoffs and looks over at you, monitoring your face. You still don’t move, not even to scroll through more edits on your phone. The same sound playing over and over. He sees the way you tightly grasp the fabric of your joggers before bringing his eyes back to your face.

“You liked that…didn’t you?” He quizzes, inching closer to you on the sofa. He places one hand on the arm-rest and the other rests near the back of your head; caging you in. When you don’t respond, he gently grabs a hold of your chin with his fingers.

“I asked you a question. Or are you too stupid to rack your brain to think of anything other than being used for your body?” He whispers.

You just came. Well you think you just did. If you didn’t, you are surely on your way.

“…No.” You meekly respond.

He laughs softly, pulling away and moving to his side of the sofa again.

“Oh okay. Was just making sure.” Seungmin says with a shit-eating grin.

You furrow your eyebrows at this, looking at him quizzically.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What do you mean you were just making sure? Making sure of what?” You ramble.

Seungmin just hums, ignoring your array of questions. He busies himself with his phone, completely shutting you out.

That incident happened on Monday, it is now Saturday. Something has shifted between the two of you, at least you think it has.

It is not rare for the two of you to bash heads. It is usually you getting on Seungmin’s nerves and he always cusses you out for it. Except the way he has been doing it since Monday has been…interesting.

It’s like he knows something about you. About the way you react to the way he raises his voice at you. The way he scoffs a laugh at you when you fail again at a level on the video game the two of you play. Or the way he downright disrespects you.

It’s stressing you out to say the least. When he acts cold and distant to you and then immediately blows up on you for even suggesting that he is acting weird.

You decided to give him some space during the week to sort out whatever mood swing he was going through.

You are at his house now for ‘Sleepless Saturday’s’. This was a tradition between the two of you and his other two roommates Jeongin and Chris.

First you all do some gaming, then you all stuff your faces with whatever food you want and now you begin the movie marathon. Luckily for you, it’s your turn to choose what everyone watches this Saturday.

Due to the fact that Seungmin had been off with you all week, you decided that you were going to torture him with choosing a movie franchise that he particularly doesn’t like.

It was only fair considering what he had put you through. You have never been so confusingly horny ever in your entire life.

As the boys come into the room with drinks and snacks you hear a groan from Jeongin and Seungmin. Chris just snickers to himself as he sits down in his designated seat.

“Right, who here pissed you off?” Jeongin says, looking at you before turning to the other guys. “You know this only happens when you piss Y/n off! And I know for damn sure it wasn’t me so you better own up or I will make all of you watch the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings next Saturday.”

At that, all of your eyes go wide as you plead with Jeongin. Chris complaining at how he wasn’t the one to blame and Jeongin confirming that it couldn’t possibly have been him.

All eyes fall to Seungmin who sits there snacking on some popcorn. He looks up to see eyes on him and he throws his hands in the air.

“What are you looking at me for?” Seungmin groans.

“If it wasn’t me or him, that only leaves you, genius.” Jeongin says, shaking his head at Seungmin.

Seungmin’s mouth falls open as he struggles to get words out. He looks from them to you, to which you quickly divert your eyes to the television screen.

“Dude, come on. Whatever you did to Y/n just apologise.” Chris says.

You are trying to hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink. You can always trust Jeongin to up the ante.

“I didn’t do anything!” Seungmin retorts. He keeps trying to catch your eye to have you side with him and convince them that they are just blowing this out of proportion, but you don’t give in so easily.

“You clearly did if we are all watching the Twilight Saga tonight.”

“Alright guys let’s calm down. The longer we argue the longer it takes for me to see some sexy vampires and werewolves on the screen. Sit down, I’m pressing play.” You say, breaking it up.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The start of the second film has begun and you can feel a pair of eyes on you. Subtly, you stretch and turn your head to confirm the suspicions.

Seungmin stares at you with squinted eyes and you furrow your eyebrows in return. You almost miss it, but he points to the stairs before immediately getting up.

The other boys don’t pay him any mind as they, though they complained, are entranced by the film.

“Innie I’m cold, can I borrow a hoodie?” You ask.

“Yeah, just get one from my room.” He never pries his eyes away from the screen. “You know where. Just don’t—”

“Go in the second drawer yeah I know.” You say rolling your eyes and running up the stairs.

Passing Jeongin’s room, you go straight into Seungmin’s. He sits on the bed with his head in his hands.

“What?” You ask, folding your arms. He immediately stands up, walking past you to close his door. As he does, you get a whiff of his cologne and it smells delectable.

You have barely been in close proximity to him the whole day let alone the whole week, afraid that he will just snap at you.

“What the fuck Y/n?” He says in a hushed tone, careful not to be too loud.

“What do you mean?”

“Why have you been acting so weird? You’ve been so on edge around me today and then you chose Twilight as the film’s for us to watch. I.N’s right, you only do that when you’re pissed off. Did I do something?” Seungmin says, genuinely worried.

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to voice your feelings.

“You’ve been acting so strange since Monday…”

“This again? Jesus Y/n what about Monday?” Seungmin says, now frustrated.

You scoff and turn around. Trying to open the door to his room. It opens slightly before it gets slammed shut, his hand right by your head.

“Y/n. You do not walk away from me when I’m trying to have a conversation with you. Especially when I don’t know what I’ve done.” Seungmin says quietly behind you.

“Seungmin, this couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

He drops his head and you can feel his breath tickle the back of your neck.

“You’re killing me Y/n. Using my full name? Please just tell me. Tell me what I did.” He whispers against your ear.

Your chest rises and falls heavily at the lack of distance between the two of you. You take a deep breath.

“You were mean to me.”

He turns your body around so that you are facing him, his hands never break contact from holding you, his thumb stroking your arms softly.

“Was I? What did I say?”

“You said that I was a slut.”

Seungmin stares at you before he breaks out into a smile. He covers his mouth and recomposes himself.

“No I never. I said that you act like a slut. And was I wrong? No again. But you liked it didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Your mouth falls open. How has he flipped this back on you?

“Don’t tempt me with your open mouth Y/n. You know I’d love to shut you up in a way I know you would like.” He caresses your cheek with his hand.

“F-fuck you Seungmin.” You stammer, embarrassed. He just laughs at you, his bottom lip sticking out slightly as he tilts his head at you.

“No you want me to? I bet you do. Wanna open those legs for me like the filthy little whore you are huh? Want me to fuck you like you crave? Like the needy little cumslut you are?” Seungmin says, his voice now in a low timbre.

You hope the boys are so entranced that they can’t hear you become a moaning mess for your best friend upstairs.

It doesn’t help how he’s been calling you his dirty little plaything ever since he shoved his cock down your throat. Then pumped his fingers in and out of you as he sucked, licked and went to town on you with that dangerously long (and skilled) tongue of his.

Now you find yourself with your legs draped over his shoulders as he shows no mercy with his hips as he thrusts in and out of you at full speed.

“Yeah, take it slut. You’re not good for anything other than opening up those legs of yours. You just let anyone fuck you like this?” He lands a hard slap to your ass making you moan. “Huh? I asked you a question, you better fucking answer it.” He growls.

“N-no. Never.” You mewl, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You hear him laugh at you. The fucker is laughing at you as he takes you to pound town.

“Never knew my best friend was so needy for cock. Yeah your fingers and your toys with your little fantasies of your crushes don’t do shit. You needed, no, wanted to feel like my own little sex doll didn’t you?” He says chuckling.

He slows down, putting both of your ankles on his right shoulder as he presses your legs into your chest and grinds down, hitting you so unbelievably deep. That delicious spot inside getting stroked time and time again as he rolls his hips into you.

The sweat off his forehead drips just below your eye, mixing with the tears that make their descent down the side of your cheek, wetting the side of your head.

He is enjoying the way you react, the way you clench around him tightly every single time he degrades you. Caught up in the heat of it all, he licks a stripe of your tears, humming at the salty taste.

Your mouth, open and panting for air, gets intruded by his tongue licking along your own before enclosing his mouth around yours, swallowing your moans.

This is all so filthy. So vulgar. So good.

The kiss is wet, sloppy and a mix of both of you breathing into each other’s mouths. He pulls away with your bottom lip between his teeth. He bit so hard he very nearly drew blood. The pain just mixes with the pleasure as you whine at the sensation to which he licks and soothes the bite marks that he’s created.

He dips his head down, kissing, sucking and blowing cool air on your neck before speaking low in your ear.

“You’re such a dirty hole. My own personal—fuck, tight little hole for me to fill up. Aren’t you? Shit~”

“Min I can’t. Too much.” You say as your hands travel down his back, your nails scraping so hard it breaks the skin.

“Yes you can. You can take it Y/n, come on. It’s what you were made for. You were made to be used, you can fucking take it.”

“Minnie m’gonna fucking come.” You cry out.

He shakes his head.

“No the fuck you’re not you dumb little hole. Ngh, you’re gonna make me come first. I’m first, then you can. Mkay?” Seungmin says, his voice betraying the authoritative demeanour he adopted as it cracks slightly; turning into a desperate whine.

You try to be good for him, holding the coil that threatens to burst any minute now.

“Fuck I’m coming. Shit Y/n, I’m coming.” He says, his hands roughly gripping the pillow beside your head as he unloads into you.

“Please, please, please!” You whine, rocking your hips to chase your own release.

Knowing you’re about to snap, he moves one of his hands between your thighs, stimulating you at your core whilst trying his hardest to fuck you through your orgasm.

You swear you’ve never come this hard. Let alone this much. Your legs are uncontrollably shaking. You milk him dry and he makes sure you ride out your high for as long as possible before he collapses half on you, half on the bed.

You try to catch your breath, but it is proving difficult.

“Y/n take a deep breath for me sweetheart.” Seungmin says, catching his own breath as he strokes your forehead as places gentle kisses to your eyelids and cheeks.

You take three deep breaths and are able to regulate your breathing to soft pants now.

He pulls out of you, moaning at the loss of warmth, but also at the mess that spills out of you. He moves down the bed, cleaning you up. Eagerly lapping up the result of both of your climaxes.

You don’t think you can take anymore of the overstimulation and you weakly push his head away to which he laughs that sexy laugh of his again.

“Okay okay, m’sorry you just taste too good.” He crawls back up the bed and lays beside you, holding you in his arms.

He doesn’t even think he has gone as intense as he did just then and he doesn’t think you have either.

He makes sure to just hold you, swaying you lightly as he kisses you on the side of your head. He looks at his bedside table saying an internal thanks as he sees his water bottle is full.

He takes it and holds it to your mouth.

“Y/n I need you to drink this for me okay. Open your mouth darling. There we go, slowly, not too fast.” Seungmin soothes as he helps you drink.

Once you’ve had at least a quarter he stops for a bit. Telling you just how good you were for him and that he’s so proud of you. He rubs between your thighs, not even to get you going again, just to soothe the ache.

“I’m not letting you have sex with anybody like that other than me.” He says and you both laugh. Though he is completely serious. After that you simply cannot even think about any of your celebrity crushes because you just know he has ruined you for them. Even if they were just a fantasy.

After, and only after you had finished the bottle of water, were you allowed to let him clean you up properly. When you got the strength to get up, you tried to make yourself look like you weren’t just fucked into oblivion as you hobble down the stairs with Seungmin.

That was your, amongst many, mistake.

Jeongin and Chris look appalled. You see Chris shaking his head whilst Jeongin jumps up from his seat, actually looking like he could hurt the both of you.

“What, and I can not stress this enough, the FUCK!” Jeongin yells.

“No way you were clapping cheeks when we had to sit here and watch two whole Twilight movies. No way.” Chris mumbles to himself.

“What do you mean?” Seungmin says shrugging and acting confused.

You think you actually saw the string of sanity that was holding Jeongin together snap as he lunges for Seungmin. Whilst Chris on the other hand shakes his head at you like a disappointed mother.

Through Seungmin’s screams and Chris’ ‘Mate yous are nasty’, it’s safe to say that you and Seungmin deserve to sit through the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings at least three times to make up for tonight!

jeongin | oral fixation | 3k (3009) words

You stretch, releasing a small yawn from beside Jeongin before placing the knuckle of your finger between your teeth as you concentrate on scrolling through your laptop.

Jeongin was texting on his phone, humming a simple tune. However, the sound of a wrapper unfolding and being squished up into a ball caught his attention.

He watches as you place the lollipop between your lips. This is the third one today.

One of the boys in the group chat sent a video of what they’re currently doing. Jeongin knows that you think all of his friends are attractive. Which he likes to pretend doesn’t bother him, but deep down it makes his right eye twitch a little bit.

Yet being the good friend he is, he turns the phone and shows you, lightly nudging your arm with his elbow.

You watch as Minho lifts a spoon to his lips, his tongue darting out to catch the contents dripping from the spoon before he puts it in his mouth and moans.

“How does he make eating soup look so fucking hot.” You say with your lollipop tucked away in the side of your cheek.

“He doesn’t. He’s just being annoying.” Jeongin says distastefully.

You lean over him, grabbing the white stick of your sweet treat between your fingers as you press play on the video again.

Jeongin watches you as you become strangely enraptured by the video. When Minho catches the liquid with his tongue, he sees you watching intently, the lollipop slowly making itself comfortable back in its designated place.

As the video ends for the third time, you are now quiet as you occupy your mind with something Jeongin knows not.

The way you so seamlessly move back into your previous state of shopping on your laptop made Jeongin squint his eyes.

It always did make him wonder why you would always adorn a sweet suckle between your lips. Always a lollipop, a hard candy or just an ice cream. Anything that could keep your mouth busy, you made sure to have.

But it was only with him you did it. He never questioned it until now, when things started to click into place.

“Innie are you even listening to me?” You say waving your hand in front of his face. He blinks a couple of times, taking account of the sweet treat in your hand.

“What?”

“I said what pair of shoes should I get? I have loads of black, barely any white and little to no coloured ones. What are we feeling?” You say turning your laptop to face him.

He looks at the choices of shoes you have presented in front of him. He never has been good with masking the expressions on his face; this time it shows one of disgust.

You catch the expression quickly and you groan.

“You hate them all. You know what, forget this. I’m just gonna continue to wear the shoes I already have.” You say placing the lollipop in your mouth and turning the laptop back to your eyes only.

Curiosity bested Jeongin as he looked at you with questioning eyes.

“Why do you always have something in your mouth?”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, taking the lollipop out of your mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, for the past month, every time we hang out, you’re always eating.”

He realised he hadn’t quite worded that correctly as you squint at him. Though before you could press further he held his hands out, quick with an explanation.

“No, not like that. I mean you always have a sweet or an ice cream. Why?”

You shrug, scrolling through a new clothing website you found.

“I dunno, soothing I guess.”

“I can’t imagine it’s good for your teeth.” Jeongin says as he grabs the remote to the television.

“We’re all gonna die anyways, what does it matter if it’s not good for my teeth.” He rolls his eyes at your logic, though he continues to browse through Youtube.

“Just because we’re all gonna die, doesn't mean you have to speed up the process.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I’m going to die anytime soon from a few cavities Innie.”

He turns to look at you, momentarily peering over at your laptop screen.

“I don’t know, I just feel like you should find other alternatives. You have good teeth, I’d hate to see them all withered away by the time we’re like forty.”

You turn to him and purposefully crunch down on your lollipop.

“May I ask what made you decide to hone in on my habits? ‘Cause it seems you care very much for the health of my molars.” You taunt.

“I…I don’t know. Was just curious I guess, whatever. What do you wanna watch?”

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Strange. From that day onwards , every single time you would hang out with Jeongin, he would notice that your mouth didn’t occupy a sweet treat.

Perhaps he had gotten used to seeing your pretty lips moulded around something. Perhaps his mind would replace the sweet treat you were sucking for his dick.

Gosh, no! He can not be thinking about you that way. Yet…the thought sends blood rushing straight to the core of his being. Not ideal with the warmth that the jacuzzi is providing and the sight of you in your bathing suit no less than a metre away.

“You didn’t have a lollipop today.” He states as he plays with the bubbles that rise to the surface of the water.

“I had a dream that I got really bad cavities and my teeth fell out. I’m not joking, it scared me so bad that I vowed to stop eating hard candies.” You exclaim.

Jeongin bursts out laughing but you look at him with a deadpan face.

“What was the joke? Because I fear I’m missing out.” You say crossing your arms and raising your eyebrow.

At this, Jeongin stops laughing and rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, how do you expect me not to laugh at that?” He snickers.

“It was a nightmare! I swear if I lose any teeth, I am going to gnaw on you with my gums until I make you bleed.” You say slinking further down into the jacuzzi.

You’re brought out of your slump when Jeongin decides to playfully splash water at you. You get him back by splashing water directly in his face. His mouth was open from laughter and now he is choking on the water that he accidentally swallowed.

He tries not to make a scene, but how could anybody possibly not when they are choking. Clutching the side of the jacuzzi he heaves and coughs.

He feels the water move beside him and soon a hand patting him on his back quickly follows.

“Alright tough guy, calm down.” You say patting and rubbing his back in small circles.

This seemed to have helped him as now he turns back around and submerges himself in the water. But before his head went under, he could hear your giggles.

Mischievousness graces Jeongin as he decides to grab your ankle under the water making you scream and grab ahold of his hair.

He winces in pain as you pull him up and immediately start scolding him.

Something about how if he does it again you will roundhouse kick him in the neck? He isn’t too sure as the water was still pouring out of his ears.

“What’s got you so cranky as of late? You're having withdrawals from your sweet treats, huh?” Jeongin asks as he sits back down in the jacuzzi next to you.

“No! Yes… I don’t know, I just feel so restless. Having something to suck just calmed my thoughts as weird as it sounds.” You voice frustratedly.

Jeongin listens as you unload about how this weird obsession over needing something in your mouth has made it hard for you to focus if you don’t have something occupying your mouth.

He says a silent prayer of forgiveness for what he is about to do.

“You can always suck my fingers.”

You look at him as if he just called you a hideous, vile creature. At least that’s the same look you gave him when he said that you were like ‘if cream cheese was a person.’

“You’re serious aren’t you?” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“It’s just me. I mean there are other things to suck.” You raise your eyebrow. “I’m joking.” He wasn’t joking.

“But I can’t just suck your dry finger.”

“It’s not dry, see?” He holds up his hands as water cascades down his arm, “Perfectly wet, as all hands should be. Ignore that last part. I don't know what that meant.”

You chuckle softly at his nervousness.

“I am not sucking hot tub water off of your finger Innie. Come, follow me.” You say as you get out, grabbing your towel.

He follows quickly like a duckling following its mother as you lead him to the kitchen. You open it and get out a jar of honey. Turning to Jeongin with what you hold like a trophy, you stand there beaming and he can’t help but to swoon internally at how cute you are.

“What about the tooth nightmare?” Jeongin quips.

Your smile falls and you pout.

Oh how he wants to kiss the pout off of your plump lips.

“A little honey won’t hurt, like I said, I’m not sucking hot tub water off of your finger.”

He watches as you dance around the kitchen, grabbing a teaspoon and taking a seat beside him on the island.

As you scoop the teaspoon into the honey, he hears you mutter something along the lines of ‘I can’t believe I am doing this.’

You hold the spoon up to his mouth.

“Have a little taste first, see if it’s nice.”

He squints playfully at you before his tongue pokes out of his mouth to taste the sweet substance.

In the corner of his eye, he watches as your eyes bore into his lips. Being a tease, he licks them, just so he can witness that wonderful reaction in which you hitch your breath and then pretend you weren’t staring directly at his mouth.

“Sweet as ever,” He swipes his index finger across the spoon and holds his finger up and makes a come hither motion. “Come taste for yourself.”

You place the spoon on the island before leaning forwards to try and capture his finger.

He moves his hand towards him, making you nearly fall off the stool. He chuckles deeply, his hand going to your thigh to steady you.

“Come on, I said come and taste for yourself.” He teases.

You sit back, your eyes momentarily looking at his smirk before it falls back to his finger. The honey glistens in the light, a trail making its descent down his finger as if it’s racing away to save its life.

You grab his wrist, taking him by surprise, but he tsks at you.

Ignoring his disapproval at your impatience, you slowly lick the trail of honey that was trying to escape. Your tongue ascends to the tip before your lips enclose around his finger.

You close your eyes, relishing in the dulcet taste as you suck all of it off.

The sight of you, his best friend, sat here in your bathing suit: damp, is making his head go berserk. He is trying to fight the violent urge to moan out loud at this sudden turn of events.

What causes his swimming trunks to tighten is the moan you release around his finger at the taste. You had to have done that on purpose you little tease.

Once sated, you release his finger with a pop. Looking up at him with a wide smile and a bat of your eyelashes, he swears he’s being hypnotised.

This act alone has made an indelible impact on the relationship between the two of you. It would be a waste if he didn’t take this opportunity whilst it is still arising.

And it certainly was an opportunity he would be an idiot to miss. Which is why it explains the way you two are situated on the sofa. Jeongin is sitting upright as your head rests on his thighs. Except your soft lips have moulded around his dick so nicely.

You are cockwarming him. His suggestion considering he just couldn’t ignore the hard on he got from the way you sucked his finger earlier.

Every now and then your cheeks would hollow or your tongue would swirl around the head or you would just take it upon yourself to bob your head up and down.

“Y/n, being coy only gets you so far. You know what you’re doing, moving your tongue like that, shit. I thought you just wanted your mouth full hm?” He brings a hand down and starts to stroke the side of your head.

You look up at him with those eyes and he can’t take it anymore. Not when you look as good and cute as you do right now.

His hand that was stroking your head, grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to tug and pull your head on and off his dick.

Happily obliging, you start to pump him with your hand, twisting around the length. Your other hand focuses on playing with his balls, making him release a low moan.

“Know you wanted this, huh baby? Yeah you did. You just wanted to have my fat cock on your tongue. Isn’t that right?” He says as his head lulls back.

The film becomes a forgotten task as you drool and take him further down your throat.

He pulls you off of him and you let out a small whine.

“What? Don’t whine. Do you already miss me in your pretty mouth?” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to come down your throat. Be good and let me fuck you right and I’ll let you suck my thumb yeah?” He says panting.

You nod.

“Need your words baby.”

“Yes, please fuck me Innie. Please let me have your thumb in my mouth, please.” You beg.

He smiles and positions you so that you lay on your back. He lowers himself, kissing down the valley of your chest and down your stomach. His lips are soft as he kisses, licks and even sucks the skin down to your core.

“It would be awfully rude of me to not taste how sweet you are before fucking you. You’d like that wouldn’t you? My mouth, my breath, my tongue.” He purrs.

As he places open mouthed kisses around your core, you try to shut your legs but he opens them wider. His arms propped in a way where you can’t close them.

Without warning, his mouth is on you. Wet, sloppy and warm as he devours you in your most sacred place of your body.

“Just like that, Innie. Your fucking mouth, oh my~” You moan as your hands travel down to his hair, tugging on his roots.

His tongue dances around your hole before entering it. The sensational feeling makes your back arch off of the sofa.

He listened to your body, watched how it reacted to certain things he did. What sounds you made when he swirled his tongue.

It wasn’t long before you came undone on him. That didn’t even seem to be what Jeongin had wanted to do most desperately, but he just had to taste you.

You take a deep breath as he slips in. He goes slow at first, letting your body accommodate his size before he starts to lose his composure and fuck into you like a wild rabbit.

Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and he loves nothing more than to listen to the sounds he is causing you to make.

“Open your mouth pretty.”

You do as you're told. He places his thumb in his mouth, wetting the pad before smearing some of it on your lips and shoving it into your awaiting mouth.

You immediately start to suck on his thumb. His fingers rest on the side of your neck as his other hand resides on your hip.

“You feel so good I don’t know if I can hold out. Look at you sucking my thumb like it’s my cock.” He says, his voice shaking.

He continues to pump inside of you and you clench around him. He groans out and takes his thumb out your mouth and squeezes your cheeks together.

“Squeeze me again darling and I’ll come.” Before you can speak, he closes the distance between the two of you and swallows your moans.

Your tongues are certainly getting to know each other as you suck on it before you clench again making his hips falter and soon enough, filling you up.

You follow suit not long after, reaching your high as you moan out his name and wrap your arms and legs around him. Trapping him as his arms give way and he falls on top of you.

His head falls into the space between your head and your shoulder as he places soft kisses along your neck and collarbone.

The hum of the television playing the movie the two of you paid no attention to plays as you both caught your breath and enjoy the silence between you.

“You like mouths or something?” Jeongin breaks the silence.

“Something like that. I like yours. Been dreaming of your lips on me since forever.” You say, your hands stroking down the crease in between his shoulder blades.

“So fucking hot.” He lifts his head up and places a long, tender kiss to your lips. His hand caresses your side as he smiles down at you.

“We need to restart the movie, don’t worry, I think I have some ice cream that we can eat.”

Since his suspicions were confirmed, Jeongin is sure to have a lot more fun with you!

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

TAGLIST: @lovestay4evr @sarahatthecrisco @dramaticnobody @fairy-lixie

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lale-txt · 3 months

Text

❉ in a long-distance relationship ↳ w/ Nanami & Naoya (separate)

a/n: getting into my clown car because originally i was planning to write this for four characters in total, then i blinked and suddenly i had written over 2k words in headcanons and drabbles and decided to call it a day. i personally want to thank Nanami and Naoya for representing the both flawless and horrendous ends of the spectrum regarding my taste in fictional men ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

contains: headcanons are sfw & gn!reader, drabbles are ns.fw & afab!reader. i'll put individual warnings before each drabble later in the text.

word count: 2.3k

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

the driest texter known to man

it’s not like Nanami won’t think of you and text you throughout the day, it’s more that his texts read as if they’re coming from your tax consultant rather than from the love of your life

“Arrived at the accommodation. Room is very clean. About to head out for work, will call you later tonight. Love you, K. PS: Heard Lawson has cabbage on sale this week.”

he’s never beating the old man allegations

it’s an obstacle that yours and his work often requires you both to travel and spend time apart, but to Nanami, once committed, long distance was never a reason for things not to work out between you

he keeps his promises and calls when he said he would, he sends you flowers when he can’t bring them back home in person and he orders you food when you’re having a rough day, staying on the phone with you while you eat and letting you vent if you need to

when he misses you (which he always does), he lets you know. no matter how far apart, Nanami would never make you doubt if you’re on his mind and in his heart

often he’d send you photos of his lunch or local specialities, sometimes photos from the local pigeons too when they’d pick up the crumbs of his sandwich at his feet

“Those two seem inseparable. Made me think of us. Miss your voice, will call you tonight. What are you having for lunch? Careful when you cut the cabbage.��

at night, after another draining day of fighting curses, the only thing keeping Nanami going is the prospect of hearing your voice over the speaker

he will close his eyes and imagine you snuggled up in bed while talking to him, waiting for him to come home, and oh, how badly he wants to be by your side and never let you go

cw: afab!reader (no pronouns used, 'cunt' and 'pussy' used to describe genitalia), phone sex, panty sniffing, masturbation (with said panties), dirty talk, breeding kink (no mention of pregnancy or babies), mention of: brat taming, mirror sex and hair pulling

“Sorry, love. Were you asleep already?”

Nanami’s voice is quiet, almost like an apology for calling you this late. He knows you’re always staying up and fighting your sleepiness, despite him telling you not to wait for him—he’s grateful you do though, because hearing your voice is the one thing that will get him through each day, no matter how long it drags on.

“Mhm, not quite yet,” you mumble into your phone and smile at the sound of his voice. “‘m all cozy in bed though, it still smells like you. Only missing your warmth.”

Nanami laughs quietly at the other end of the line. He has no problems imagining you right now, having the big bed you bought together all for yourself but still curling up on his side of the mattress, where his scent still lingers. He hums softly.

“That was quite the surprise I found in my pocket this morning.”

You hear some rustling sounds and a pair of pants getting unzipped, and the grin on your face widens. Putting your phone on speaker, you set it down on the pillow next to you and roll over on your back, feeling more awake now.

“Well? Did you like it?”, you coo.

“Loved it.”

The panties you slipped into Nanami’s jacket before he left are now dangling from his finger in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He picked them out for you a while ago and now you were simply returning the favor, knowing how lonely it can get on a solo mission. He closes his big fist around them and brings them to his face, inhaling your musk and making him groan quietly. His cock aches in his boxers, precum staining them slightly, but he doesn’t touch himself yet.

“God, I miss you,” he mutters after catching another whiff of your worn panties. “Want to taste you so badly, love. When I get home, I’ll have you sit on my face till your legs give out.”

You chuckle at the prospect of it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Did you touch yourself with my panties?”, you ask in a sultry voice and you can hear Nanami growl a little at the other end of the line.

“I’m doing it right now,” he replies in a husky voice, having his bottoms hastily pulled down his thighs and now fisting his cock with your panties wrapped around it. The fabric feels soft and expensive, and the thought of how they clung to your cunt when you soaked through them has his mind spinning circles.

“Good. I want to hear you cum,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a better imagination. “Tell me what you want to do with me when you’re back home.”

Nanami pumps his fat cock with one hand, the other holding his phone to his ear. He’s sprawled out in an armchair, head in the back of his neck, his eyes shut as well. His breath comes out raggedly.

“Gonna fill your pretty little cunt to the brim,” he mumbles. “Tongue, fingers, cock. Everything. Whatever you beg for, I’ll give it to you. Gonna pump you so full of my cum, you’ll have it ruin your panties for days, but you’d like that, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” you mewl at the other end of the line, kicking back the sheets and spreading your legs to touch yourself to his words. Your fingers reached nowhere as deep as Nanami's, but it was better than nothing.

“Gonna bend you over and fuck you on every flat surface in our house,” he rasps. “In front of the big mirror too, so you can see the faces you make when you cum on my cock. Wanna feel how tight you get when you’re milking me. As if you’re trying to remember the shape of my cock forever. Made for me, only me. And if you’re gonna be a brat, which I know you will, I’ll stuff your mouth with your panties and pull your hair till I fucked some obedience into you.”

Nanami groans; he is so close. Damn, if only you were here for him to bury himself in the warmth of your cunt. Your whimpering at the other end of the line and your panties wrapped around his cock as he pumps himself are enough to send him tumbling over the edge, a supernova of pent up lust and frustration unleashing within him. The silken fabric soaks up all of his cum, sticky and hot against his skin. He made a mess, but cleaning up was for later.

“You good, love?”, he asks in a raspy voice and can’t help but smile at the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Came so hard I saw stars a little,” you confess over the speaker and snicker. You’ll definitely have to change the sheets before Nanami gets home. As if you two wouldn’t ruin them anyway.

“Good, good,” he laughs. “Now sleep, dear, I kept you up for too long. I’ll be home tomorrow night, okay? Can’t wait to kiss you.”

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀

Naoya hates being apart from you and he doesn’t understand why you take on missions that require you to leave the Zen’in estate aka him

in his eyes, as his spouse there’s no need for you to work at all, you should just stay at home with him or accompany him on his business trips

he can and he will yap about this while you pack your bags, while he drives you to the train station (he insists to escort you there himself), while carrying your luggage and even between goodbye kisses. seriously, this man never learned how to shut up in his entire life

the night prior, Naoya had made sure to leave plenty of hickeys all over your body, as a reminder who you belong to

he’s clearly bored out of his mind without you around, your phone blowing up with text and voice messages from him, demanding your unrestricted attention and getting pouty when you don’t immediately reply to him

it’s not like Naoya is jealous or worried that you’d see someone else behind his back–his ego is too big to consider this even a possibility

he’s simply the undefeated champion in the pain in the ass competition

he’ll act nonchalant when you call him once you’re back at your hotel, trying to sound as if he wasn’t pacing restlessly around all day until his phone finally lit up with your name on display

asking you about your day comes second, first you’ll have to listen to him whining how much it sucks without you around and that this’ll be the last time that he’s allowing you as your husband to go on a solo mission (he’s ignoring your unrestrained laughter about it), and that you’ll have to think of something to make it up to him on your way home which will be in 3 days, 11 hours and 27 minutes (he’s counting)

cw: afab!reader (no pronouns used, 'cunt' and 'pussy' used to describe genitalia), video call sex, dirty talk, masturbation, praise kink, mention of spitting, sweet talking Naoya into submission, he has nipple piercings in this one, Naoya being his own warning

“Seriously? You couldn’t wait three seconds to at least show me your face before flipping the camera to your dick?”

You lie on your stomach in a hotel bed that’s way too big for you alone, fresh out of the shower, glancing down at your phone in your hand. After a long day of fighting an extremely nasty curse, you crave nothing more than rubbing one out to the voice of your husband and passing out immediately afterwards. Your hips grind lazily into a pillow between your legs, feeling that familiar throb, while Naoya on the other end strokes himself on display as slowly, his thumb drawing circles over his leaking tip. His moans are slightly muffled over the speaker.

“Can’t help it, babe, I’ve been like this all day, aching for ya. Had my cock throbbing even at family dinner. Been thinking about nothing other than stuffing all of yer greedy holes. Just look–”

The movements of the video get a bit shaky when he fists his cock, pumping himself at a leisurely pace. You’ve memorized every vein of his cock, feeling your mouth water a little at the sight of it. While Naoya wasn’t a size king, he had the girth and you vividly remember how he knocked the air out of your lungs when he pounded you into the mattress for the very first time. You roll your hips some more, chasing for the right friction to get you off, the camera still aimed at your face.

“Then gimme a show at least,” you whine and put on a small pout which you know Naoya can never resist. If there’s anything Naoya loves, then it’s attention and praise, and he is way too easy to bait into whatever could offer him that.

“Oh, ‘m gonna give yer a show, baby. Gonna make ya regret not being here with me. I’d have ya drooling all over my cock if yer were here with me now,” he rattles. “Would spit in yer mouth, that’s how ya like it, dontcha?”

The display turns dark and blurry for a moment, and you can practically feel the excitement from the other end of the line when Naoya props his phone up against something to have his hands free. He is so obedient at times, yet he would hate to hear that. For the first time today you get a glimpse of his face now, the pink of his tongue poking out slightly between his lips, his hakama pants hanging unfastened from his hips, his cock resting heavy on his thigh when he leans back.

“The shirt, too,” you demand. “Take it off.”

“Nah, too many buttons,” Naoya huffs and grips his cock again, making sure to angle it just right at the camera. Oh, how he wished you were on your knees before him right now. All the ways he’d mess you up.

“Then pull it up at least. C’mon, put it in your mouth like I do it for you sometimes,” you coax him in your sweetest, sultriest voice. “I know you can be a good boy for me.”

Naoya’s hips yerk up slightly at the praise and he lets out a shaky breath, clearly trying to restrain himself from coming too fast. His resilience is crumbling so easily at the sight of your pretty face and he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, biting down on it to keep the fabric from sliding down again. One nice side effect of this was that with his mouth stuffed, he would shut up for once.

“Mmm, yes. That’s it, so good, aren’t you?” you coo and have Naoya gripping his cock tighter, his movements getting sloppy. His abs contracted with every jerk of his hand, and soon he was whining and panting, legs spread apart so beautifully for your perfect view.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”, you ask while grinding against your pillow, mesmerized by the sight on your display. Seeing a man like Naoya falter so easily at your words alone has you feeling a certain kind of arousal, pooling right in your stomach.

It makes you want to wreck him entirely.

Naoya nods and whimpers, using his free hand to play with his nipple piercing, all while his other pumps himself into a higher sphere. His hips are bucking and precum is drooling from his pink tip, making a mess out of him and amplifying the lewd sounds.

He doesn’t last long, and when he cums thick white ropes fall onto his stomach, his mouth hanging agape. His cheeks are flushed and he mewls while he keeps stroking himself, milking every last drop out of him while chanting your name in a needy voice.

This. This might be your favorite sight ever.

“Such a good boy. So good for me. Now bend over for me, hm? Show’s not over yet.”

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #naoya zenin x reader #jjk reader insert #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #nanami kento #naoya zenin

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yearning-for-autumn · 4 months

Text

Azriel NSFW Alphabet

A/N: Literally no one asked for this, also I may have gone a bit overboard so like if anyone who knows me sees this no you didn't.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Azriel is king of the princess treatment. Whilst he is rough in bed, he is gentle and sweet with you once it’s all over, he’ll run his hands softly down your body whispering how well you did, how good you were for him. Then he’ll scoop you up and run you both a bath, getting in with you to wash your hair and hold you.

Butterfly kisses….enough said.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Azriel is an ass guy, he likes boobs but he will always admire a shapely bum. He loves to grab it, slap it, rub soothing circles on it as he fucks you. He loves to have you bounce up and down on his cock facing away from him as well so he can watch it jiggle. To a lesser extent, he loves your neck as well, he loves to leave hickies to stake his claim…possessive Illyrians…

His favourite body part of his own is probably his wings. He’s a bit smug about the fact he has the biggest wingspan of his brothers, and on a sadder note he is just thankful he can use them, that he learnt to fly and the freedom they represent for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums heavy. Like…it’s going to be dripping from you. He loves coming over your arse, watching those stripes of white paint your red backside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Azriel doesn’t really like to admit, but he is pretty touch starved. He doesn’t allow many people to touch his wings but the first time you did he came almost immediately. It took a little while for him to build up some stamina with you in that area.

On a dirtier note…Azriel has a bit of a fantasy of fucking you in the same room as Cassian and Nesta. He loves how feisty Nesta is, knowing she’s a bit of a brat for Cassian. He wants to show off how much of a good girl you are for him, make Cassian Jealous that he can do absolutely anything to you and you’ll thank him for it. He also wants to see you fuck Nesta…whilst he fucks Cass.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Azriel is very experienced. He has had a lot of lovers over the years but he is not very experienced in having a long term relationship. That being said, he has taken subs before and is very confident in his abilities to practise BDSM safely and sanely. He takes your comfort very seriously and has experience with many different wants and needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Honestly any, but he loves sitting up with you in his lap, either bouncing you up and down on his cock, or having your back pressed against his chest as he cradles you and rubs your clit until you cum.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be if he thinks you’re really nervous but mostly he’s in the zone. When he fucks you, he does it right, and he’s concentrating on your pleasure…(or punishment).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps things neat down there but he’s not completely hairless. He doesn’t have a preference on whether you choose to shave or not.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Azriel can turn on the romance if need be, but his expertise lies in being a dom, he’s not not romantic…but he’s definitely not sweet and gentle with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Azriel masturbates quite frequently. He’s got a high sex drive and so when you’re away or he’s on a mission he won’t think twice before taking himself in his hand. He’s also a fan of masturbating together, and loves pumping his thick cock to the sight of you rubbing your clit, head thrown back in self made ecstasy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

DDLG - I’m a firm believer in daddy!az, he loves to spoil you, he’s not a brat tamer but you’re such a good girl for him that he doesn’t have to be.

Breeding - I think this is an Illyrian trait that he’s a little ashamed of. He loves pumping you full of cum, and pushing it back in. It gets him all hot and bothered to whisper in your ear how hot he thinks you would look full with his child.

Spanking - This male just can’t leave your ass alone…if your butt is out it’s getting slapped. He loves taking you over his knee, panties on at first then spanking you hard until you soak through the fabric.

Dom/Sub - I think he can switch, and does enjoy subbing occasionally, but mostly likes to see your submission to him. He likes the quiet submission, doing up your shoes, cooking you dinner because you’re just his little girl and need him to help you. He also likes to have you kneel at his side whilst he works, head resting on his knee.

This might be a bit out of pocket but I also think he has a teeny bit of a piss kink, but he keeps this to himself unless you are very adventurous. Look SJM said he was a freak alright but everyones afraid to make him really freaky…..

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s quite a private male so nowhere you’re likely to get caught. He can be swayed…but it’s at your own risk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly anything turns him on. You could walk past him and he would grab you by the hips, pull you to his chest and ask if you want to play. What really turns him on though is when you initiate. When you crawl into his lap, all shy like, bat your eyelashes and ask him…daddy, can we play? Cauldron, he’ll be hard before you’ve finished asking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Azriel isn’t into hurting you too much. He finds scratching, blood play, and anything unnecessarily rough too far and he won’t do it unless you eased him into it. His hard no is fire, anything to do with it, candles and wax play…he won’t go there at all.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Look, the man is a giver and is good at it, but god does he love a blowjob. Give Azriel a blow job. He wants it. He’d reward you so good for it. He’s gonna cradle your head and stroke your hair while you do it. Please.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If it’s a special occasion he might take his time with you, fuck you all romantic, turn on the romance so to speak. But he really prefers to set the pace quite quick, it gets him off better and it probably gets you off better too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh yeah. He’s ready to go at any moment. And he’s got a busy job. Rhys asks him to do things on pretty short notice sometimes and he’s not leaving without a quick fuck. But he won’t do anything particularly kinky unless he’s got time for aftercare, he’s discussed what he wants from it, and has your input on everything involved. Your quickies are more like quick vanilla sex, you love it though, any Azriel is good for you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Azriel would not be the kinky male he is if he wasn’t down to experiment. If you have something new for him to try he’s absolutely game, just don’t spring it on him before he’s going away or he’ll be a grumpy boy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Mm Azriel will last long, but if you touch his wings…man’s going to come prematurely and be sulky about it for the rest of the night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes. Azriel has floggers, paddles, ropes, vibrators, (bunny ears and a bunny tail buttplug….). He loves to dress you up. And he’s not shy about using toys to enhance your pleasure. He draws the line at making a mould of his own penis though..and you have asked.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a massive tease. He’s a condescending, teasing, smug asshole. But if you are desperate enough he will grant you relief. He will also listen seriously if you tell him you’re not in the mood for teasing. He only wants to tease if he knows you’re into it. This is why safewords exist guys. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, I firmly believe he would only tease in the bedroom, he’s not one of these guys that wants to see you mad and gets a kick out of it, I find that kind of man repulsive lowkey.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Let. Azriel. Be. Loud. In. Bed. Quiet in the streets, loud in the sheets baby. But anyway yeah he moans a lot, talks a lot, wants you to know how much you turn him on. And he wants you to be the same. He’s not happy until you’re screaming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Azriel pretends to be cocky about his body but he’s actually a bit embarrassed about getting fully naked around people. This goes away quite quickly when you start worshipping it with your mouth though–

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big boy…massive boy…he’s girthy and he’s long and Rhys and Cassian can only look and weep.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you all the time, everyday. The mating frenzy was exhausting, I hope your pussy survived.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Look he’s a male, orgasms make him sleepy, but he won’t sleep until you’re tucked up beside him and comfortable. Mans not happy until his baby’s happy.

573 notes · View notes

therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years

Text

It’s Cold Out (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · swearing · pet names · possessiveness · possibly inaccurate descriptions of birth control (this is a work of fiction, after all) · good ol’ rut driven intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Summary: Your roommate had been acting weird lately, weirder than usual. It was because of his condition, you thought, and in a way, you had been right, just not in the way you had expected. [This story is an instalment of my WereRoomies series].

Author’s note: Happy Halloween month to all of us! If there’s a God up there, only she can judge me for this. [31/03/23: this story has been re-edited as of this date. special thanks to @straylightdream for reading this new edition before anyone else and sharing her thoughts with me].

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: intercrural sex · unprotected penetration [piv] · oral [F.Rec] · lots of praising (LOTS) · breeding kink (kind of) · copious amount of fluids · knotting

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

To say Chris had been acting weird this week would be an understatement.

You were sure it all started over the weekend, since you noticed his odd behaviour that Friday night when you were about to leave your shared flat to go hang out with one of your friends. Chris had come out of his room to get something from the kitchen, and he had stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw you there applying your makeup by the bureau in the entrance.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t caught him looking at you before, you were pretty confident that he’d often look at you–whether it was for instinctual reasons or what you weren’t really sure–but he genuinely looked like a deer in the headlights while he stood there completely paralysed. The worst part was that you weren’t wearing anything particularly revealing, just a crop top–that wasn’t even that short, it barely even exposed your belly–and some leggings.

“You okay there?” You asked Chris as you returned your eyes to the mirror, adding the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Uhh… Are you… Are you going out?” You didn’t look back at him while he talked to you, deciding that, since he was being awkward, it would be easier for him to speak without you looking at him.

“Yeah, babes. I’ve been talking about it all week, remember?” Dropping the eyeliner pen back on your makeup bag you looked at yourself one last time. ‘This will do’ was all you could think, satisfied with your face as you turned to look at your roommate.

Chris wasn’t there anymore, but he emerged from his room seconds after with one of his black hoodies in hand. “Take this, pretty. It’s cold out”, pet names were a constant in the household, even among Chris’ friends, so you never thought much of it whenever he said them to you, or whenever you said them to him.

You chuckled, oddly amused by the sudden request. “I already have a jacket, Chris. But thank you”.

“No, no. You need to take it. Seriously”, Chris moved, getting into your space, going as far as to try to put the garment over your head.

“Woa, Chris–” You tried to push him away, but he ignored your protests.

“It won’t be any good if you catch a cold!”

“Chris!” You took a hold of the garment and jumped back away from him, keeping the hoodie in your hands.

Chris whined your name, he really whined. “Please, just… Take it. And wear it…”

He looked genuinely concerned, and it made you sigh immediately. You examined the item in your hands for a second, it was one of his oversized hoodies–oversized even on him. As you looked between the garment in your hands and Chris’ worried face, you couldn’t help but sigh. It was always hard for you to not give in to your roommate’s requests. “Fine, fine. I’ll take it, jeez”.

A bright smile settled on his lips as he watched you put on the hoodie, his eyes disappeared into crescents and his dimples were now on full display. The sight almost made you scream, he was just too damn cute and you felt your heart thump a bit faster against your ribcage as soon as your eyes landed on his form.

“Happy now?” You huffed out, dragging your hands down your front, trying to help the fabric settle over your body. The thing was huge, the hem reached the middle of your thighs, and the sleeves pooled around your limbs, effectively engulfing your frame.

“Very”, Chris moved back into your space, bringing his hands up to fiddle with the hood of the hoodie, almost like he was trying to put it around your neck as a makeshift scarf. “Need a lift?” Satisfied with the position of the hood, his hands moved to your shoulders, dragging them over the fabric like he was trying to iron creases out.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine”.

Chris’ gaze moved to look you in the eyes. The movement of his hands on your shoulders stopped, but he didn’t remove them.

Ever since you met him around a year ago, there had always been something about Chris’ eyes that made you feel oddly giddy. It was almost as if his gaze was trying to intimidate you. Your brain always urged you to look away whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long–which was silly, considering Chris was one of the most welcoming, caring people you’d ever met.

You never gave into that fight or flight instinct. On the contrary, subconsciously–and sometimes, even consciously, you’d admit–you made it a point to keep staring right back at him, almost like you were challenging him. Which was probably very stupid on your part, since you knew really well who he was–what he was.

Clearing your throat, you mustered the most confident tone you could to speak. “I have to… Have to go now”.

Chris blinked slightly, as if your voice had brought him back from a place deep within his thoughts. “Right…”

His hands moved from your shoulders to cradle your face, and he took one step closer to press a kiss on your forehead. Chris did this often, especially before you left the house, you had seen him do it to his younger friends, too. The gesture always brought heat to your face, and you honestly didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Have fun, love!” was the last thing he told you before he turned around and returned to his room.

You left shortly after that, feeling actually thankful for the hoodie once you stepped out of the building, since it truly was cold out, and the garment surely helped you retain heat much better than the jacket you were planning on wearing.

That day, you had decided to stay at your friend’s place for an impromptu sleepover, and the entire thing triggered the second weird interaction with Chris that weekend, just that this time it was over text.

< You: heyyyyy darrliinnng,,,, < just so you know i’m staying here today < dont forget to lock the door tonight < AGAIN

> Xtopher 🐺: i never forget to lock the door pretty girl > lier > liiiieeeerrr

You scoffed at the message, but you also couldn’t help but chuckle after. The nerve of this man, as if you hadn’t arrived home late at night or even the next day after going out to find that he didn’t lock the door. After a couple of minutes, Chris texted again.

> Xtopher 🐺: u guys on ur own?

< You: no < my friend’s older brothers are here < we’re playing mario kart

Chris had read your message. You could see he was online, and you saw the ‘typing…’ message appear and disappear for five whole minutes before he finally replied.

> Xtopher 🐺: u wearing the hoodie > ?

< You: yes?

> Xtopher 🐺: show me

You rolled your eyes, just slightly annoyed–or you tried to tell yourself you were annoyed, in reality you had a smile on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit amused by Chris’ antics. You decided to humour him. After all, you hadn’t taken the hoodie off since you left your flat. If anyone asked, you’d just tell them the thing was comfortable–which wasn’t entirely a lie–but the truth was you continued wearing it just because you enjoyed the way you could smell him on it. It was almost like he was there, hugging you.

< You: [sent a photo]

> Xtopher 🐺: good > u should sleep in it cutie > its cold today

He’d mentioned this ‘it’s cold, you’ll catch a cold’ thing twice already. Chris could be overly protective of his friends, you’d seen it time and time again with your neighbours–his friends–and you’d even been on the receiving end of his worries many times in the past, so you decided not to think too much of it.

The moment you opened your flat’s door the next day, Chris was already pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let him hug you, because of course you did. It wasn’t like you never hugged, but it was honestly never like this–never had he held you this close, this tightly. Even if his behaviour had been slightly out of the ordinary you couldn’t bring yourself to not let him hug you, selfishly deciding that you would let yourself indulge.

What you had not been prepared for that day, though, was feeling Chris press his face to your neck, nor feeling his nose lightly brush the area right under your jaw. You tensed at the foreign feeling, and Chris tensed immediately after. He scrambled to pull himself away from you, mumbling a ‘sorry, welcome back. There’s food on the stove’ before he promptly disappeared into his room.

Things got weirder as days went by, Chris would simultaneously get close to you and try to keep himself as far away as possible. It got especially weird one night when his friend Seungmin came by. You’d hugged Seungmin to greet him–just like you always did–and you were both suddenly startled by a low growl. Seungmin’s eyes snapped in Chris’ direction, looking at him sitting on the sofa, glaring at you two. Seungmin had moved faster than you could even register the movement, walking as far away from you as possible and rambling on to his friend about something you honestly couldn’t even remember now.

You knew what Chris and his friends were. You knew what this entire building was–although you didn’t know it when you first moved here.

Your mother and Chris’ worked at the same company, so when he started to look for a roommate because ‘godforsaken bills are expensive as shit’, his mother had asked around the office for any possible candidate, and your mother had given her your contact details since you had been looking to move out for a few months by that point.

The building wasn’t particularly big, only four floors without counting the ground floor. You learnt after moving in that the building belonged to Changbin’s parents. Changbin was one of Chris’ closest friends, and that arrangement with his parents made it so the both of them and six other friends of theirs could move into this building.

At first, you had been hesitant to move in with a man, but on your first visit Chris had made you feel so comfortable and welcomed there was no doubt in your mind when you finally decided to move in.

You learnt of their… Condition four months after moving in. You had a date and the guys thought you wouldn’t be coming back that day. Chris was clearly not counting on your date being an absolute asshole and you running back to your flat that same night, because as soon as you stepped through the door you found three large ‘dogs’ in the middle of your living room with Chris and a handful of his friends surrounding them. They all gave you panicked looks, and after a lot of screaming and prying and questioning, Chris confessed to you that they were werewolves.

It had taken you a full week to accept the truth, but once you did every single odd behaviour you had noticed in Chris and his friends made a lot of sense. Their monthly ‘camping trip’ that would always conveniently happen when there was a full moon, how touchy and affectionate he and his friends were, ‘cuddles are a must!’ he would say often when holding onto someone, or how hot their skin was… The list could go on and on. Interestingly enough, they never made you feel threatened or in danger, on the contrary, they had welcomed you into their lives–into their den–and they even became your friends, too.

You had done a lot of reading on werewolves since then. Sometimes you asked Chris for details when you felt specially curious, other times you just went on the internet and dug out whatever you could find, but this odd behaviour of Chris’ lately was something you hadn’t inquired further into yet. You’d been too busy trying to study for your upcoming exams while balancing work, and that left no room for your mind to wander. Hell, you hadn’t even had time to fold your laundry, the pile of clothes being moved back and forth from the chair to your bed every morning and every night.

You were sitting on your chair, leaning over the desk in your room to scribble on the countless sheets of papers scattered around, trying to cram even more information into your brain. You certainly needed to take a break, but it was hard to bring yourself to. The universe, however, clearly had other plans for you.

The sudden knock on your door startled you, but you still turned around and mustered a soft ‘come in’, only to see Chris open your door shortly after, making his way into your room.

“Hey, you wanna eat–” His movements stopped and his eyes opened wide as his gaze moved from the pile of clothes on your bed, to you, back to the clothes, and back to you.

“Ah, sorry for the mess. I haven’t had time to fold my clothes”, you shrugged, pulling the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing–his hoodie–down your arm again, since you usually had to roll it up to your elbow when you wanted to write to avoid shuffling the papers around.

Chris’ eyes followed your movement, and the doorknob he still held in his hand rattled slightly as his grip around it tightened–tight enough to make his fist tremble.

“Shit…” He mumbled, only to turn around and bolt out of your room. “Shit, shit, shit…” You could hear him swearing even as he walked away, and alarm bells started to ring in your head instantly.

Your body moved almost on its own, following him down the hall. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” He fumbled with his bag that had been discarded this morning by the sofa, pushing his laptop inside. “Gotta go…” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not, but you pressed him further.

“Christopher, what’s wrong?”

“You… Shit… Go, go, go…” Chris made a beeline towards the front door, picking up his keys from their designated bowl on the bureau as soon as he made it to the entryway.

You couldn’t let him leave, not when he looked this… Well, you weren’t sure what he was feeling, but he was certainly frantic, and that couldn’t be a good sign. So you moved quickly, getting close to him so you could pull on his arm. “Chris–”

At that moment you were reminded that Chris and his friends were, in fact, otherworldly. You couldn’t even register the movement, one instant you were standing in the middle of the hall and the next you had your back against the wall, with Chris’ hands at either side of you and his body pressing you to it as his nose brushed against your neck, inhaling deeply.

“So fucking good…” His voice was barely a whisper, but there was absolutely no space between you, so you heard him. You heard him loud and clear. You should’ve felt intimidated, scared even. But right then, as you felt his warmth seep into you, and hearing the low tone of his voice, you couldn’t help but come to the realisation that you liked it.

“C–Chris”, your hands came up, your fingers barely brushed his sides, but then he moved away, rather abruptly.

“Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry”, he brought his hands to his head, burying his fingers in his hair, and pulling the strands as he started to pace around the hall. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry”.

“Are you… Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask, he was clearly extremely worried, and now that you got to look at him better, he almost looked in pain. It was starting to worry you.

Chris’ eyes snapped up to meet yours, and an incredulous look settled on his face. “Am I okay? I just pushed you against the wall and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

You simply held his gaze, just like you always did. You didn’t know how long the stare-off lasted, probably a few seconds, but it felt eternal. You would’ve continued staring back at him had a growl not resonated from deep within his chest, making the fine hairs at your nape stand on end and your eyes go wide in surprise, while his shut tightly. “Stop looking me in the eyes, God. Do you have any idea what that does to my head?”

“What does it do?” You could guess what it did. You could guess because you had thought about it before.

Chris was an alpha werewolf, he was the leader of his pack, and you knew that eye contact could potentially mean you were challenging his role in the group. And maybe you were. Maybe you were just trying to get him to react.

“Makes me want to–” Chris cut himself short, gritting his teeth and grimacing slightly. When he opened his eyes again, they were almost pleading. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ve been… Been trying really hard to not make you uncomfortable, but here I am being a total creep”.

You finally detached yourself from the wall, walking a few steps closer to him, and his body tensed at the proximity. “I don’t think you’re a creep, I’m actually really worried about you. You’ve been acting weird all week, what’s going on?”

“Shit, you… You really have no idea, do you?” Chris’ entire body was taut as he stared you up and down, and the motion made you gulp, almost audibly.

“About what?” You took another tentative step closer. Your brain did register the danger, it urged you to run away, but there was something in you that wouldn’t let you, that wanted you to move as close to him as you could.

Chris’ gaze moved back up to look at your face briefly, only to dip lower slightly, looking at your neck. His tongue peeked from within his mouth, licking his lips almost absentmindedly as he looked at you. “How fucking good you smell”, he inhaled sharply. The action somehow brought heat to your face, it made you blush. “Fuck, it’s been driving me nuts all week. It’s been driving me nuts for months, but especially this week…”

He took a step closer, only to stop his movements as soon as they started, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. You stayed silent, rooted on the spot right where you were, which he clearly noticed. “You need to get away from me. I’m… Dangerous, fuck. The things roaming in my head right now… Shit…”

You knew he was right. You needed to leave. But you really couldn’t bring yourself to. “What are you thinking about? Tell me”.

Shaking his head, Chris shut his eyes tightly, and a faint blush settled on his cheeks. Against your better judgement, you walked another step closer, just as your eyes roamed his form. You had failed to notice before, but now it was very obvious to you what was going on. Your eyes went wide in surprise, and you just couldn’t stop your tongue from leaving your mouth to lick your lips as you noticed the tent in his joggers. He was… He was huge, and you would lie if you said you were not affected by the sight.

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and yours snapped back up to look him in the eyes again. Shit, he’d caught looking, and something was starting to change in his eyes as he looked back at you. Gulping the saliva that had collected in your mouth, you found the courage to ask. “Are you… Are you going through your rut already?”

“So it seems”, he took a step closer towards you.

“Is this why you’ve been lending me one of your hoodies every day? To leave your scent on me?”

His ears grew red, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. His eyes scanned your face for a bit only to finally settle on your neck once again, giving you a minute nod of his head.

“Be honest with me, Christopher. Why are you doing it? Is this something you do with our friends, too, to keep them safe or something?” You needed to know. You needed to know what he thought of you. Did he think of you in the same ways that you had thought of him all these months?

Chris inhaled deeply once again, and he took another step closer. “No, this is not something I do to my friends. I just can’t bear thinking there might be anyone out there that could smell you and get any ideas, especially not when you’re fucking ovulating”.

Your breath hitched in your throat, just as you felt wetness pool in your core, and Chris growled. He literally growled, like an animal, and the sound made you a bit lightheaded, but probably not for the reasons it should have. “Fuck, why are you… Why are you getting turned on by this? You know full well what I am. Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back”.

“What if… What if I don’t want to lock myself in my room?” You licked your lips, and Chris’ eyes followed the movement, just as another low growl resonated from deep within him. “What if I don’t want you to hold back?”

You felt your back hit the wall again, but it was hard to register it when you could also feel Chris’ lips on yours, when you could feel him kissing you so eagerly. A small whimper escaped your mouth as soon as he kissed you, and you immediately kissed him back, grabbing his shirt tightly in your fists to pull him as close to you as you could while his hands found their way to your lower back.

You could feel his hardened length press against your belly, and it made you whine. One of his hands dipped lower from your back to grope one of your buttocks while the other dragged up your front, finding one of your breasts and squeezing it. His grip was strong, firm and you couldn’t help but moan against his mouth, eliciting a grunt from his lips.

When Chris separated his mouth from yours, he diverted his attention to your neck, pressing his nose under your jaw and inhaling deeply once again. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good. So sweet and fertile”, the hand on your breast shuffled, and his fingers found your nipple, pinching it over the fabric of your hoodie–his hoodie. “I want you to be mine, fuck. Mine and only mine. I’ve wanted it for so long”.

Your inner walls clenched around nothing, and you felt more wetness pool at your core as soon as his words registered in your brain. Chris noticed, because of course he did, how could he not when his enhanced senses seemed to be able to pick up even the smallest changes in your body. He rolled his hips to grind his cock against you, grunting, letting you feel him. “You want that, too, yeah? Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine”, he emphasised his words with another squeeze to your breast, making you whine.

“Wanna–Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too”.

“Fuck…” He moved his hand from your breast, dragging all the way up for him to take a hold of the back of your neck while his lips returned to yours.

He kissed you with force, with need, his tongue made its way into your mouth to find yours eagerly waiting for him, ready to dance against his. You felt dizzy, completely overcome by his presence around you–his hands, his tongue, his mouth, the sounds he made, how warm he felt under your hands… All combined was steadily clouding your reason–not like you had much of it left since you had moved into this place.

Chris scooped you into his arms, the action was so sudden it made you yelp as your legs wrapped around his middle on instinct and your arms looped around his neck for stability. No one had ever been able to pick you up like this, this… Easily.

You weren’t exactly light, you’d always been on the curvier, chubbier side–which you’d always liked about yourself, you did feel pretty, but you had never let anyone even remotely try to carry you. Yet, Chris didn’t seem to struggle one bit, as if you weighed nothing. Moving with purpose, he started to whisper in your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby. So good. I’ll treat you so well, just like you deserve”.

Your hands trembled slightly as you held onto his shoulders. “Chris…”

“God…” Chris reached your room, pushing the door closed with his foot as soon as he was inside. “Say my name again”.

“Chris”, your voice was barely a whisper, with your lips almost pressed to his ear as you spoke.

“Again” He dropped you on your bed, right on top of your unfolded clothes. Taking a hold of the back of his vest top, he pulled it over his head, and your mouth immediately watered at the sight. He was so incredibly handsome, you could almost feel your hands tremble with excitement at the prospect of finally getting to touch him just how you’d been wanting to

“Chris”, you repeated, looking up at him as he kneeled between your legs. He was so broad, you just couldn’t stop your hands from reaching out to palm his shoulders while his fingers hooked on the waistband of your leggings, and you gasped when he pulled them roughly down your legs.

“Fuck… Look at you”, his hands found your inner thighs, rubbing them up and down, dragging them over your skin for a bit to warm up, only to grip them tightly after, making you squeal.

He pushed your legs apart, roughly, all so he could shove his face between your legs. His nose prodded your clothed entrance, making you moan softly, and a low growl seemed to have started to rumble deep within him. Never had you felt this affected by anyone, every single one of his movements had your skin on fire, your senses alert, and especially now, as his tongue dragged over the wet spot on your underwear, making you swear under your breath.

By the time you registered the movement, Chris had already torn your underwear apart, the thing reduced to shredded scraps that he simply threw on the floor, looking almost offended that the garment had been on you in the first place. His gaze fixed on your core, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips as two of his fingers came to collect your essence, spreading it all over your slit.

“So fucking wet”, his fingers moved from your entrance to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had you whimpering under his touch. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did–” Your words caught in your throat when his fingers moved down again.

“Who?” He shoved two of his digits into you, the wetness between your legs letting them enter you with ease. The sudden intrusion had you throwing your head back, curling your toes, and you couldn’t help but moan at the feel of his fingers moving in and out of you, deliciously dragging against your walls.

“You, Chris!” His tongue swiped over your clit, and as soon as he tasted you, an almost animalistic groan escaped his throat.

His mouth was relentless, kissing and licking your clit while his fingers fucked you open. Time and space slipped between your fingers, all thoughts in your brain disappeared as your mind filled only with Chris and his fingers and his tongue and the sounds he made. If him eating you out and fingering you felt like this, you couldn’t even fathom how it’d be like when he fucked you, but you were certainly more than ready to find out.

Two fingers turned into three, that later turned into four, stretching you open to your limits while his tongue on your clit coaxed the lewdest sounds to come out of your lips. The most alluring part of it all, though, was his eyes, staring deep into yours. It was almost as if he was finally getting his payback for all the times you had stared back at him in the past, like he was trying to remind you, to shove in your face, just who was the predator and who was the prey.

And it made you feel warm, really warm. Sweat collected on the back of your neck as his fingers stretched you open and his tongue worked you up. A low, constant growl rumbled from him, you could feel the vibrations on your thigh that rested on his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn it had your whole bed vibrating with it. All you could do under his touch was moan and pant and whine, completely unable to form any coherent sentences when he had his mouth on you.

Your orgasm hit you hard, your walls spasmed repeatedly around his fingers, and your whole body shook with your release. The onslaught of sensations had tears pricking your eyes, had you struggling to get air into your lungs. The fact that your upper body was still covered by his hoodie probably added to that slight feeling of suffocation as warmth continued to spread all over your body.

Chris finally pulled his fingers out of you, and he brought them to his mouth to lick them clean, savouring the taste of you on his tongue with a deep growl. Attaching his lips to your thighs, he peppered them with kisses, licks, and bites, leaving purple splotches on your skin, mumbling to himself–the words falling against your skin, vaguely sounding like ‘so pretty, so, so pretty, so pretty, my pretty girl, gonna make you feel so good, gonna stuff you full, pretty, pretty’.

When he was satisfied with the art he left on your thighs he shuffled so he could kneel between your legs again. “Off”, Chris tugged on the hem of your hoodie, pulling it off of you in one swift motion, making your body bounce a bit when you fell back onto the bed as soon as the garment was off. “Fuck… Have you been wearing my clothes like this all the time?” His hands dragged all the way from your neck, down your breasts, your belly, and you could see his eyes taking you in, roaming all over your naked form as you laid under him.

“Only when–” Your words caught in your throat when his fingers started to tease your nipples, when you noticed his eyes were absolutely fixed on your chest. Chris seemed to be completely enthralled by the sight in front of him, by your sensitive skin under his fingertips, by the sounds he was coaxing out of your mouth with his fingers working your chest.

Swallowing, and after taking a deep breath, you got enough clarity in your mind to speak again. “Only when I want to feel like you’re the one warming me up”, there was a permanent blush on your face, it had made its home there as soon as his mouth connected to your heat earlier, so letting out one of your deepest secrets hardly changed your outer state.

Chris’ gaze snapped up from your chest to lock eyes with you, and you felt your breath catching in your throat again. You had never seen his eyes looking this dark. He had the prettiest brown eyes you’d ever seen, but right now his pupils almost completely engulfed that warm brown of his, leaving only black behind. With one final lick of his lips, his mouth found yours, kissing you deeply, hungrily. You’d admit that during your time living here, you had wondered many times how his lips would feel, how’d it be if he kissed you. They looked soft, plump, and now that you finally got a taste you were sure you wanted to have them on you as many times as possible, for as long as possible.

Taking your lower lip between his teeth, Chris moved away from you, eliciting a whimper to escape from your mouth once he released you. He got rid of his joggers, and his cock stood tall and proud between his legs. Fluid leaked from his tip–a lot of fluid–clear and thick. He collected some of it in his palm, coating himself thoroughly before he finally wrapped his fingers around his length, pumping it.

You propped yourself on your elbows, trying to get a better view, and you were completely captivated by the sight of his head popping out of his fist as he jerked himself, subconsciously licking your lips while you stared. He was bigger, girthier, than any regular human you’d seen, much less fucked. Quite honestly, it was slightly intimidating, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the only thoughts in your mind right now were Chris and his fucking werewolf cock.

In one swift movement, Chris took a hold of your hips and pulled you further down on the bed, making you yelp. Your upper body fell back on the mattress with the motion, and he pushed your thighs together, moving them towards your chest. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he spread saliva over his palm before he wrapped his fingers around his length and coated himself in it–not like he needed it, since clear fluid continued to constantly leak from his tip.

“You look so good like this… You’re so fucking gorgeous”, bringing your legs towards him, he let them rest on his chest. His tip brushed your thighs, right where your supple flesh met, close to your core but not making contact with it, making you shudder as you felt his slick on your skin. “So soft, too”, Chris eased himself between your thighs with a satisfied groan, and your walls clenched around nothing while he held your legs in place and his hips started to thrust back and forth. “Even here, especially here. All mine to enjoy…”

Even if he was not actively stimulating you, this was quite possibly one of the most arousing things someone had ever done to you. The sight of his tip poking between your legs, the feel of his hips against your skin, all added to the look on his face as he looked down at you like you were his meal had you moaning softly, and even whining a bit.

“Fuck, I can almost taste how horny you are… Your scent’s everywhere. So fucking delicious”, his pace picked up, his hips collided against you with force as he fucked your thighs. Not only was it the sound of wet skin against wet skin, but also the feel of him hitting the back of your thighs that had you grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets, that had your whole body feeling tingling with need.

“Chris, please…” You weren’t even sure yourself what you were begging for, but as you stared back into his eyes you felt the urge to beg, so you did.

He pushed your thighs apart with force, and one of his hands took a hold of your hip, angling you just how he needed you to be, just how he wanted you to be, while the other took a hold of his cock, bringing close to your heat to tease your clit with his tip. The contact of his bare skin against yours had your breath catching in your throat, and Chris had a similar reaction as he stared at his cock brushing over your folds.

You knew he was clean, you two had gone to one of those pop-up clinics with Changbin around a month ago since he wanted some moral support after a scare. You’d gotten tested for the heck of it, just as did Chris, both coming up negative, and neither of you had been with anyone after–not like you could think too much about it anyway, you were so far gone you would’ve probably let him do anything to you without any second thought, because you wanted him to do those things, at this point, you felt like you needed him. Badly.

When his length started to make its way into your core, slowly stretching your walls, you truly got to feel his size. You were dripping, as was he–his cock still covered in the mix of his saliva and his slick–and he had prepped you with his fingers, but it was almost nothing compared to this. Bringing a hand to your core, you started to rub circles on your clit, trying to get yourself to relax.

“You’re doing well, baby. So good for me…” He was half way in, and you could hardly breathe. One of his hands moved to tweak your nipple, the stimulation coupled with the one of your fingers on your clit helped ease some of that sting you could feel between your legs.

“C–Chris”, you whimpered softly, looking him in the eyes.

Chris was an alpha, you knew that already, but as you your eyes found his you were able to understand part of his nature. Not because he looked dominant, or lustful, or borderline animalistic, but because he looked at you like he wanted to protect you, to comfort you. Even if he surely wanted to fuck you into oblivion, the need to provide comfort to you was clearly overpowering that need to mount you.

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re a brave girl, I know you can take what’s yours”, with one final push of his hips he finally bottomed out.

Your fingers moved away from your clit as you exhaled–shit, you hadn’t even realised you had been holding your breath. Chris’ hands came to rest on your thighs, dragging them up and down in soothing motions. You felt impossibly full, completely stretched to your limits–had he been any bigger you doubt you would’ve been able to take him in at all.

“Fuck, so tight and warm…” His fingers came to toy with your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. A low growl resonated in his chest, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he licked his lips while he threw his head back to enjoy the feeling of your walls wrapped snugly around him. “I’ll fuck you so good, pretty. I’ll make you all mine”.

You took a deep breath, and your eyes found his once he finally opened them to look at you again. You were still slightly breathless, but that didn’t seem to overpower the determination in your voice. “Do it, then. Fuck me good, Christopher”.

As soon as the words left your mouth, it was as if something snapped within him. The comforting, caring look left his eyes completely, replaced by an animalistic, dark look. When his thumb found your clit, rubbing precise circles on it, and his hips pulled back, only to snap back into you almost immediately, starting a fast, hard pace, you couldn’t help but cry out. It was a lot, a lot but somehow not enough at the same time.

Your walls adjusted quickly, the harsh sound of his hips hitting your skin made you dizzy, and it was almost like you could feel him in your throat whenever he thrusted all the way in. If you ever thought you had been fucked hard in your life, that had been nothing compared to the way Chris was fucking you now.

His fingers dug on the skin of your thigh, you could already feel bruises forming under his hold, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was having his hands on you, having his body over you, and having his cock fuck you open.

His thumb never left your clit, and before you could even register it building, your release hit you, making him growl at the feeling of your walls pulsating around him as he kept pounding into you. “So good for me, love. You’re taking me so fucking well. Can’t wait to fill you to the brim”.

Barely giving you time to catch your breath, Chris pulled out of you to take a hold of your waist, swiftly flipping you on your stomach, so he could pull your hips up for your lower body’s weight to rest on your knees. “Look at these hips, fuck…”

He pushed his cock into you again, taking the air away from your lungs as he resumed his relentless pace. “So fucking perfect… So breedable and ready for me”.

The hold his hands had on your hips was firm, strong, his fingers dug on your skin, and the fullness of your flesh gave him plenty of leverage to grip you tightly and push you back to meet his thrusts. “You’ll carry my pups so well, love. So fucking well. You’re so fucking perfect”.

You could barely keep your upper body propped up on your elbows, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to keep yourself mildly grounded. You honestly couldn’t do anything other than moan and whine and whimper his name. His hand sneaked around your hip to rub circles on your clit. You were sensitive from your previous orgasms still, added to the stretch of his monster cock, his fingers on that bundle of nerves between your legs had you almost seeing stars as soon as he started to stimulate it.

The sudden sting between your legs brought your senses back to reality, only enough to remember what alpha males experienced when they were going through their rut, something you had read once, and when you’d asked Chris about it he had blushed profusely and walked away from you, leaving you hanging.

“Chris!” You whimpered, feeling the extra stretch steadily growing within your walls.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, I know you can”, his fingers on your clit sped up impossibly faster, rubbing you for a while, building your release once again only for you to finally come crashing down.

His hips stuttered with the feel of your walls spasming around him, and by the way your walls stretched around his length, by the way his knot kept catching at your entrance as it grew, you figured he was getting close to his own climax. Chris leaned over you, with his chest against your back and his hand pressed your lower belly, lightly gripping your soft skin, he whispered in your ear. “Take my knot, baby. I know you can take it in your perfect little cunt. I’m gonna stuff you full of my pups soon and you’ll take it all, yeah?”

“Y–yes…” Your voice was hoarse, barely even loud enough for yourself to hear, but Chris heard you. There was no way he wouldn’t hear you when he was so close to you, when you might as well had been one and the same at this very moment. A low, drawn out growl reverberated against your back when he finally came, when he finally shoved his knot as deep as he could within your walls for his seed to fill you up.

It felt like he was coming for an eternity, his cum spurted endlessly from his cock while he rubbed his face on your shoulder, your neck, your back, mumbling ‘mine, all mine, my pretty girl, all for me…’ nonstop, mumbling the words like he didn’t even need to think about them, like it was all he could focus on while he filled you to the brim. A ringing broke free in your ears, your whole body ached and you felt truly stuffed completely full by the time Chris finally stopped coming.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he manoeuvred your bodies, taking special care to not let his knot pull too much while you moved. He laid you both on your side, this position allowed you to feel less of that pulling sensation between your legs, leaving only a dull ache that seemed to ease the longer you spent laying there in his arms. Even if you were achy and in a bit of pain, you couldn’t help but feel immensely satisfied, oddly proud of yourself after taking this much.

Chris pressed pecks on your shoulder, just as he caressed the soft skin of your lower belly while he whispered words of encouragement on your skin–‘you took me so well, baby. So, so well, I’m so lucky, you’re so good to me…’ He did this for a while, a while of his lips trailing kisses from your shoulder to your neck and back again, a while of goosebumps rising on your skin wherever he touched. His soothing, caring motions made your eyelids heavy, almost lulling you to sleep.

“I’m sorry, baby…” Chris mumbled against the skin of your shoulder, pulling you back from that semi-asleep state you were falling into.

You sought his arm, gently caressing him, and you felt goosebumps of his own raise under your touch. “Why are you apologising?”

“For… For having you go through this”, he sounded apologetic, ashamed, even, and you didn’t like it one bit.

You scoffed, almost offended. “Don’t let it get to your head, babe, but this is probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had”.

Chris laughed, incredulous. “Fuck, I don’t know who’s crazier here, me or you”, he was starting to sound more like his every day self, and it made you smile. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy, just how you always felt whenever you spent time with him.

“Clearly me. I’m the one who begged a fucking werewolf to fuck me”, you chuckled, as did Chris.

A comfortable silence settled between you two, you took his hand in yours, bringing it close to your mouth so you could press kisses on his palm, his fingers, all while he kept kissing your shoulders, your neck… A comfortable silence spent just cuddling each other, enjoying each other’s warmth and each other’s company.

You were silent for a while, until a question popped in your head suddenly, and curiosity wouldn’t let you just keep it to yourself. “Isn’t it too soon for you to start your rut? I remember you telling me about the previous one, it wasn’t that long ago, only a handful of months, no?”

“It was supposed to start later this month, which is why I was still in the house…” During his last rut, Chris had left the flat for a few days to stay at one of the vacant flats in the building–something he and the rest could do thanks to an arrangement Changbin had with his parents–that was actually how you came to know about ruts in the first place.

Burying his face in your neck, Chris inhaled deeply, letting out a content sigh right after. “Since my rut was so close, I guess your ovulation triggered it”, he chuckled, but his body suddenly tensed. He removed his hand from your hold so he could lay his palm flat on your lower belly, and when he spoke he sounded slightly panicked. “Shit… Fuck, I’ll get you the morning after pill”.

That made you laugh, loudly. “Are you for real? After all that talk about breeding me and me carrying your pups?”

“That’s… It’s a biological thing, okay?” Embarrassment clung to his voice, and it made you chuckle softly. “I’m on my rut, of course all the wolf wants is to breed you. I mean, I can’t blame him, look at these hips, fuck…” He took a hold of your hip, the soft flesh dipped under his hold when he gripped it tightly. When he finally released it, he caressed the area.

“But I… Uh… I haven’t even taken you on a date yet! We can’t have children like this”, he tapped his fingers on your hip, just as his lips resumed their motions, pressing soft pecks on your shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either”, sure, it was hot while you fucked, but now that you can actually think like a person you knew he was right, and you decided to come clean. “Anyway, just so you know, I’m on birth control. The one that makes you ovulate still apparently”, you chuckled softly, and you felt Chris’ body relax behind you.

Chris hummed against your skin. “Lucky me… You do smell so good. You always do, but fuck, this week… Unbearable. Had me hard most of the time, could barely hide it. Can’t believe you didn’t even notice, it’s not exactly easy to hide…”

“I can’t believe you’ve been fucking scenting me all week”, you chuckled.

“Babe, don’t think ill of me, but I started scenting you a month after you moved in…”

You blinked a few times, and you wished you could look him in the eyes right now. “What? Why?”

He mumbled something against your skin, something you couldnʼt quite catch. “What was that?”

Chris sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing you further into him. “I said… I couldn’t stand when you came home smelling of other men… I couldn’t stand thinking of them doing things with you, to you, that I wished I could do…”

A blush spread over your cheeks, and you were honestly unable to say anything other than a barely audible ‘oh…ʼ

“So, yeah. I’ve, uh… I’ve liked you for a long time, if you couldn’t tell…”

Slowly, you noticed how his knot started to deflate, and his seed started to pour out of you and onto the mess of clothes under you. “Shit… My laundry”, you chuckled, honestly not caring much about having to wash another load. “I like you, too, Chris. A lot”.

He hummed, further burying his face in the back of your neck as his knot deflated completely, allowing you to move freely again. “I can’t believe you had your clothes here on your bed like this, fuck… Almost gave me a heart attack”.

“Why?”

Chris propped himself on an elbow, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before he moved over you and off of the bed. “Because, pretty baby”, he stretched his limbs, groaning a bit, giving your eyes the opportunity to roam every single defined muscle on his body. A sight that you really appreciated. “With your scent as sweet as it was, and you wearing my hoodie, it was almost like you had prepared a pretty little nest for me to fuck your brains out in”.

You had completely forgotten about nests and what they meant to wolves, and you felt heat immediately come to your face, blushing profusely. “Oh…”

“Subconsciously, it’s almost like you did”, Chris chuckled, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Stay here in your pretty nest, little one. I’ll prepare something for you while I can still think like a man. I don’t think I’ll be able to when my rut hits me fully. Need to keep hydrated and well fed so you can take me this well each time”.

Author’s notex2: so, as i added in the note at the beginning, as of 31/03/2023 this work was re-edited to better reflect my current writing style. i decided to update this post instead of posting it again because i just didn’t want the old version still around lol, but if you want it back, let me know. i saved it and might consider posting it separately for nostalgic value.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Constructive feedback is always welcome :)

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #✨🌙✏

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charmandabear · 6 months

Text

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly.

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon.

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable.

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt.

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk.

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone.

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.”

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that.

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you.

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex.

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside.

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other.

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking.

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you.

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his.

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads.

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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maybege · 2 months

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What If - Part One

Summary: Tensions between the clans are high so to ease the reclaiming of Mandalore, an old tradition is reintroduced.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), finger sucking, oral fixation maybe, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk and loving verbal humiliation, exhibitionism (lite)

Here we are! Last year, April did not go so well for our favourite Big Blue so I decided the only way I can get over it is by rewriting That Episode in a way that I find acceptable. Naturally, that also meant adding A/B/O dynamics.

Joke aside: I love love love my Calmer AU and I love love love it even more if we can pair it with a fix it AU so this is what that is. However, I won’t be super stringent with adhering to the rest of the canon either. Both because I am here for the vibes only atm and also because I still haven’t seen the S3 finale so I have no idea how it actually ends. lol

Anyway, I would be very happy to hear what you think in a comment or a reblog, those really do give me life.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“This is a joke, right? This has to be a joke.”

You watched as Axe Woves, captain of the privateers and the most insufferable alpha you had ever met, looked at Bo-Katan as if she had lost her mind. And to be fair you could not really blame him. When her suggestion had first been made public knowledge, everyone had thought she had lost her mind.

Well, almost everyone.

“You want to reinstall an ancient rule just because these primitives cannot control their emotions?”

“It is not only about them controlling their emotions,” Bo-Katan pointedly interjected, her arms crossed in front of her chest. You had heard a lot about her but the actual experience of seeing her and hearing her speak was … underwhelming. “It is about bringing the tribes closer together.”

The alpha scoffed, clearly unimpressed and you scrunched your nose, not really liking the scent he emitted. As an omega, you were used to having strong-scented alphas all around you but there was a difference between a casual run-in and standing in a small room with the alpha leaders of opposing tribes. The difference being that under any other circumstances, you would have been able to escape the stench of this arrogant alpha.

Now, though, you were stuck between what felt like a rock and a hard place.

“It might be ancient for you but it is not for us,” The Armourer said calmly.

Your eyes flitted to the alpha leader of the clan that you had only gotten to know as a “cult”. She had a very demanding presence, one that almost rivalled that of Briggs. Which you knew he noticed by the way he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“What do you think?” Sluice asked you. Briggs was standing next to her, looking as stoic as ever and you knew it had to be serious when they rested their decisions on you. Not that they never asked you for your opinion, you were a respected member of the council, after all, but it was your first term as the voted omega representative and you had relied on their guidance a lot when it came to decision-making – especially on this scale. But now it seemed they were relying on yours.

You looked back at your fellow council member and friend, Chants, who gave you a slight nod.

“I think I would do anything to get us peace,” you said, finally, highly aware that next to your friend you were the only omega in the room and the person who everybody’s eyes rested on, “And the ancient rules lasted for centuries for a reason. They worked then and I cannot think of anything why they would not work now.”

“Maybe because they will use any chance they get to exploit the innocent omegas of other clans.”

You frowned, not liking any of Axe’s implications. Were omegas of Djarin’s tribe not innocent? Did he think you were incapable of defending yourself?

You were about to think of a retort when another alpha across the room stood up from his seat. He was clearly from Djarin’s clan as he was wearing a helmet and smelled so offended, you had to fight the urge not to snap at Woves himself. What startled you most, however, was how big that man was. You had thought him to be standing already with how tall he was and he was even taller when he actually stood up, his figure demanding a lot of space and everybody’s attention.

“I am not sure how you were raised but where I come from we respect our omegas,” he thundered, his voice deep and cracking through the beskar barrier, “And especially our calmers.”

Axe Woves looked as if he was biting his tongue not to say anything and you had to suppress your smile when you saw the strict look on Bo-Katan’s face. She was obviously trying her best to keep everyone in line.

“It is decided, then,” The Armourer announced, “We will collect the names of those willing to be calmers and distribute them amongst our tribes. This is the way.”

It did not come as a surprise that the desire to be a calmer in these times was … almost non-existent. You knew Sluice and Briggs did their best to present a united front but it was hard to convince omegas across all clans of something by having their highest-ranking alphas making decisions for them.

Still, given the circumstances, you were glad to find that a decent number of omegas seemed to be at least willing to hear you out.

You and Chants had been the first ones to volunteer, figuring that if you, as omega representatives of the council, chose to volunteer, it might assure other omegas who were still on the fence. And it had a surprisingly positive effect because, from all clans, omegas signed up. And the more omegas signed up, the more they seemed to encourage other omegas to sign up as well.

Soon, the sun had settled over Nevarro and a few fires had been made by which the Mandalorians of all clans huddled together. Crates and ship pieces had been pulled to create some circle-like shapes and make-shift benches and once the foundlings had all been sent to bed, the announcement began.

One after the other, names were drawn, pairing an omega with an alpha. You watched friends, acquaintances and strangers make their way to the centre when their names were called, before walking away together.

When you heard your name called, it was like you were in the clouds. Far away from everything and everyone. Maybe you could still say no, maybe you could just go and disappear forever. What if you were paired with someone horrid? Would people be angry if you decided to leave even though you were the first to volunteer? What if you weren’t good at the whole claiming thing at all and your failure resulted in a war that was to last centuries?

“ … Paz Vizsla.”

The giant of a man stood up and your heart stopped. That was the man from the council meeting, the one who had spoken against Woves. The one whose head had almost touched the ceiling and who was wearing a blaster on his thigh even now. There was nothing on his body that looked as if it could not be used as a weapon. If this was how he was in his home, how hostile was he in places he did not know?

Your heart raced in your chest as you walked towards him, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at you. You felt sick to your stomach and your breathing had to be abnormally loud. What if everyone could hear how nervous you were? How panicked? What if that was reason enough for other volunteers to change their mind and then it was all for nothing?

When your hands touched, his proximity pulled you back down to Nevarro.

You followed him wordlessly to the back of the group, passing a few couples that already seemed to get acquainted. You tried not to look at them, the same way you tried not to look at him for fear that his giant stature would terrify you into leaving.

Paz Vizsla was a warrior through and through and it showed in the way he was sitting too. He took up almost all the space on the little bench and even when he was sitting down and you were standing up, he seemed so much bigger than you.

“Hello,” he said and you were taken aback by how gentle he sounded. He did not look gentle. He looked dangerous. He looked like he could snap you in half. He –

“Hello,” you replied shyly.

He tilted his head and you reminded yourself to look into his visor and not take in his very large presence. Was he as large underneath the plates of armour? What was that colour all about? Did it mean anything?

His hand tugged on yours and it took you a moment to realize he wanted you sit to on his lap.

Careful not to come too close, you perched yourself on his knees even though it resulted in his knee pads digging into your thighs uncomfortably. Ironic, considering you were about to get to know this man in the most intimate ways.

“I don’t bite, you know?” he sounded surprisingly amused, his legs spreading under yours and you squeaked, throwing your arms around his neck to keep your balance.

“I suppose the helmet would make that very hard,” you replied, not thinking about how you wanted to keep this alpha happy and not risk antagonizing him.

But to your surprise, the alpha warrior roared with laughter, sounding nothing like the stern and dangerous man you had imagined. You smiled a little, loosening your grip around his shoulder and allowing yourself to truly rest your weight on him.

“What is your name?” he asked, his big hand running over your back before coming to rest on your lower back. The heat of his touch did not feel unpleasant and you took a deep breath.

“What is it to you?” you asked right back, keeping your tone even as you kept your eyes on the front of the fire where the announcements continued to pair up calmers and alphas.

“Do you not think I should know the name of the omega I am about to make very happy?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his flat joke but the corners of your mouth tugged up nonetheless. “Aren’t you going to call me omega all the time anyway?”

“Yes, but as an endearment,” he stated, his helmet resting next to your cheek, “Not because I won't know your name.”

That was weirdly touching.

You told him your name, then, and your body shivered as he repeated it in a deep voice.

“I gather you have more experience in this than I do,” you shifted, “What, uh, how … how do we proceed?”

“However we want to,” he replied as if that was not easier said than done, “There are a few things I need to know first, though. Are you here out of your own free will?”

“Of course, I am,” you protested, “I was the one to agree to this whole scheme if you recall, why would I not be here of my own free will?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice was calm and his second hand brushed over your arm up to your neck where you could feel your pulse race, “And because you smelled … hesitant.”

“You can smell me with that helmet on?”

“You would be surprised at the things I can do with that helmet on.”

You raised your eyebrows, feeling your cheeks heat up at the innuendo. This man was nothing like you had imagined at all. He seemed ... funny, oddly enough. And kind in a way you had not expected. And gentle, too, with the way his hold on your body was strong and supportive but certainly loose enough that you could leave any time you wanted to.

“Are you wet?”

“Uh, what?”

His voice dropped an octave and his gloved hand brushed over your neck, barely brushing your scent gland. “Are you wet, omega?” he repeated his question, “Does your body react to my scent? To my voice? To my touch? Do you like the idea of being close to me?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you admitted, shifting your legs and trying to ignore the low pulsing in your core. How could a voice be so enticing in a man?

“Good,” he grunted, “Open your mouth.”

You did, opening your mouth for him and feeling your heart skip three beats at once. He pulled off his gloves, revealing thick, weathered hands and fingers. There were inked designs on them, tattoos whose meanings you did not know but you wanted to. You wanted to ask him and listen to his stories while putting your nose on his neck, just close enough to the edge of his helmet so you could smell him. And scent him, maybe, if he would let you.

Shocked at your own daydreams, you tried to focus instead on what you could see and not the images your brain came up with. Every one of his fingers had at least one tattooed knuckle but his ring and middle finger had the most designs on them, some of the lines already a little washed out from age. Much like the rest of his body, his hands and fingers were big and thick. And despite your best intentions, your mind instantly wandered to what it would feel like to have them on your body.

“Wider,” he instructed you, his hand flexing, and you glanced around, wanting to make sure that no one else was watching. But you were his calmer and you wanted to calm him. Even if it meant other people saw you in a more vulnerable position than you would prefer.

Not to mention that the way he rumbled out instructions as if you were the best thing in the whole wide galaxy made the wetness between your thighs spread.

Something in his voice made you want to please him and so you pushed out your tongue, just the tiniest bit but it seemed to be enough. “Stars,” he hummed, thick fingers settling on your tongue and pushing down, “I think we are going to have a lot of fun, aren’t we, omega?”

It was instinct to suck on his fingers, coating them in your saliva and you closed your eyes, trying to think one thought at a time. Like how big they were in your mouth and how heavy. How he did not move them at all, before gently pushing down on your tongue. You followed his silent order and opened your mouth again, your eyes fluttering open when you heard the rumble in his chest.

You could not see his eyes through the visor but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense. He did not say anything when he pulled his two fingers away. Your eyes followed the movement, spotting the wet trail that connected them to your bottom lip, still, and found yourself wishing for them back in your mouth.

What had this man done to you?

He put three fingers together, then. His ring, middle and pointer fingers landed on your tongue before pushing inside, deeper than before. You took a deep breath through your nose, feeling the touch tickle at the back of your throat and you swallowed around the digits, trying not to gag.

The alpha hummed, his legs moving and thus jostling you in his lap. He pulled his fingers away again and you whined, your mouth following him as if you could pull his fingers back by the power of sheer will alone.

Heat collected in your cheeks and between your thighs at the realization that you liked this. You liked him in charge.

You looked around nervously, trying to gauge if anyone had seen this moment of weakness. And it seemed that no one had, except for the alpha that had put you in this position in the first place. “No one is watching us,” he assured you, pushing his fingers back in your mouth, “No one is looking at you, omega. Wanna know how I know?”

Relaxing your throat so he could get his fingers deeper, seemed to be answer enough.

He tilted his head, a pleased hum leaving him when you swirled your tongue around his fingers. “Because everybody knows I don’t share my omega, and that includes seeing how beautiful you look drooling on my fingers like it is my cock.”

His fingers were pulled from your mouth again, only to be pushed back in and you realised what he was doing. “Open your mouth for me again, sweetheart,” he said, “Let me see how good you take my fingers.” Like they are my cock.

It remained unsaid but the thought that he was … fucking your throat with his fingers made you wetter than you would have admitted. But you opened your mouth for him nonetheless, letting him see how his fingers glided over your tongue, playing with it before pulling out, dragging over your bottom lip and leaving a drooly mess behind.

“Thank the stars it was you,” he whispered, running his wet fingers over your lips, “I hoped it would be you.”

His words caused something in you to stir. Confusion, mostly, but also a feeling of flattery that he seemed to have noticed you before. That it wasn’t just duty for him. That, maybe, it wasn’t just duty for you. Not when he caused your blood to stir like that with just his fingers in your mouth.

“Can you open your dress for me and still be comfortable, omega?” he asked, his voice almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire, “I want to claim you once out in the open. So everyone can see what a good calmer you are.”

“What if I’m not though?” you heard yourself ask. Your voice sounded way too small to your liking, not at all teasing and flirting like you wanted to but insecure and a little hoarse from where he had been using your throat.

“I know you are,” the alpha replied steadily, his thumb pressing into your bottom lip, “I know it from the way you try to be so good to me. Know it from the way you don’t recoil from me. Do you have any idea how long it has been since I smelled someone as beautiful as you?”

Beautiful, his voice echoed in your head and you looked at him with wide eyes, the desire to touch him growing stronger.

“To be honest,” he murmured, his fingers running over your cleavage, playing with the top button of your dress, “I don’t think I ever smelled an omega that I wanted to claim as much as you.”

“Then you haven’t met many omegas,” you replied, trying to ignore your trembling hands as you undid your dress. The fabric fell open on your middle and you could see the way his chest moved a little heavier.

“Stand up,” he instructed you, meddling with a little pouch on his thigh. Your eyes fell to the where his legs had shuffled apart even more. He was not wearing a codpiece, you noticed, and the bulge in his pants was huge. Or, when it came to him, proportional.

At the thought of him putting that … thing inside you, you squeezed your thighs together. You had never been with an alpha before, and certainly not an aloha of that kind of size. Not even your toys to help you through your heats were this big.

“What is that?” you asked, watching as he pulled a little tube out of his pocket.

“Lube,” he explained, holding the little bottle up, “I am big and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your entire body tingled with desire and you shuffled your legs again. The cool evening breeze reminded you of your state of undress and you glanced around nervously.

“No one is watching,” he reminded you. “Now,” he put the bottle down next to him, petting his thighs, “Up you go.”

Your dress fell open and just like that, you were completely bare to him. It did not make you as nervous as you had thought it would. Knowing this strange man was looking at you, touching you, did not fill you with a sense of dread. Because he did not feel like a stranger. He felt … familiar.

The way Paz Vizsla was touching you only made your entire body thrum with pleasure, like he knew exactly just where you were most sensitive.

His bare fingers brushed over your chin, down your neck, between your breasts down your middle until they just barely grazed your folds. You rocked your hips, just the slightest bit, to get him closer but the alpha pulled his fingers away.

Then he repeated the motion, touching you but avoiding the places where you wanted – needed – him most.

Your mouth fell open, your tongue slipping out in a moment of weakness. But as soon as you noticed what you were doing, you closed it again, hoping he had not seen it. But of course, he had.

The warrior chuckled. “You want my fingers back in your mouth, don’t you?”

You swallowed, your eyes flicking to the tree line behind him in the hopes that he could not see the embarrassment so clearly written on your face.

“This is not the time to be shy,” he reminded you, his fingers tipping your chin up. You knew he was looking at you, could feel the weight of his gaze on you. And you also knew that he knew the answer already. There was no denying it. So, you nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Open your mouth for me again.”

Pushing out your tongue as he pushed his fingers back in your mouth, you allowed yourself to really enjoy it this time. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked on them and it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to get closer to him. With you straddling him – and wearing barely anything – the cool night air made you feel cold and exposed.

Until his other hand was on your pussy again.

When his fingers brushed over your clit, gathering the wetness between your folds, your entire body tensed. His fingers felt thick and calloused, a stark contrast to what your own fingers felt like and you breathed through the initial stretch of having two of them pushed inside you. Your toes tingled with pleasure as he edged them deeper and deeper, his movements slow and controlled until you felt like you were blinded by pleasure.

He crooked his digits inside you, rubbing over a spot you could only reach on the rare occasion that you took a lot of time for yourself.

Now though, it seemed like it was effortless for him.

“Paz,” you mumbled around his digits, your voice muffled.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed, “Open up for me, sweetheart, let me in that pussy.”

Surprisingly enough, his words got you to relax and you sucked on his fingers again. Focussing on the weight and the feel of them on your tongue like he was not fingering you surrounded by dozens of people. No one is looking at me, you remembered his words and they felt safe. They felt true.

He kept moving his fingers, working you until three thick digits were stretching you further than you had ever been stretched before. Your walls were already fluttering around him and you could feel the wetness seeping down his hand.

“You're ready,” he stated, pulling his fingers from your pussy and your mouth. You were not sure which loss you mourned more.

You looked down between you, observing as he opened his pants, freeing his cock to your eyes. He was big, that was no surprise. But it was a surprise how thick he was. His shaft bobbed between you, the weight of it almost dropping him down.

How is that supposed to fit inside me? you wanted to ask How am I supposed to take this?

His hand wrapped around himself, pumping his shaft a few times and before you knew what you were doing, you reached out, your fingertips brushing over the head of him. He felt hot and soft. Paz groaned, the sound beautiful in your ears, and his hand reached for yours, helping your hand wrap around him.

Your fingers barely met around him and you let him guide your hand up and down his shaft, letting him direct the strength of your grip. “Stars, that feels good,” he murmured, moving so his cock bumped against your folds, running it through them again and again until it met your clit. You jerked at the touch, your pussy clenching.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands – literally – you continued to hold his cock, rubbing your thumb just under his head before grinding on top of him. The touch of him against your wetness was everything you needed as you started to rub yourself against him. Your breath came faster and you could feel how dripping wet and needy you were for him.

And Paz felt it too.

He seemed completely at ease and if it were not for his rock-hard erection between you, you would have wondered if he had been affected by you at all. But when you whimpered once again as his head rubbed over your clit, you could see his hand reaching for the little bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount of fluid on his fingers before reaching between you and spreading it on himself.

“You ready, omega?” he asked you and you could not nod quickly enough.

With a racing heart and a dripping pussy, you lifted yourself up to your knees, the wood of the bench digging into your joints. But you could not care less as your pebbled nipples pressed against the cold beskar of his armour and he leant back, allowing you to rest your weight onto him.

This position gave you almost all the control and you appreciated it. You appreciated it even more when his warm hand slipped under the dress covering your back, landing just above your butt.

“Go on,” he encouraged you, holding his shaft for you, his tip breaching your entrance as you first started lowering yourself into him.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, sinking down on him a little more, “A-alpha, you’re – you're –“

“Big, I know,” he teased you, his fingers digging into your back, “But you can take me, sweet omega, I know you can.”

And you did.

It took minuscule thrusts and encouraging hums paired with his thumb drawing circles into your skin but when you felt his thigh plates under your legs, you were fuller than ever before. Not even the toys you had to keep you company through your heat filled you like this.

And yet here you were, seated on the biggest cock you had ever taken, facing a faceless alpha whose hands had shifted to your hips, his fingers brushing circles into your skin as if he was just as in awe of what was happening as you were.

“There we fucking go,” he praised you, his voice gentle even through the helmet, “Look at you, taking such a big cock almost all the way.”

The glow of the fire was warm against your back. You felt tense and full, your body constantly trying to adjust to his size. With how your legs were spread around him, you felt like you were barely holding on and you did not know how you could possibly take him to the base.

Which was exactly what you said.

But Paz only chuckled, the sound warm and you sighed when one of his hands drifted up to your neck, brushing over your scent gland. Your back bowed in pleasure and you took a deep breath in, tilting your head so your nose could run over his wrist. His scent was spicy and comforting and you breathed in deeply, feeling your thighs relax.

The alpha beneath you made a soothing noise, his thumb brushing over your scent gland again, just enough to have you clenching on his cock.

“Relax, omega,” he whispered, his helmet tilting forward, “Relax for me.”

“Easier said than done,” you murmured, tightening your arms around him, “I’ve – stars, I’ve never felt so full.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he rumbled and you snorted out a laugh. You could smell how pleased he was with himself for the joke and you leaned forward, burying your head in his neck and in his scent.

“I bet I can make you take it all the way,” he said, his hand on your back pushing you just a little bit closer.

“Feeling cocky, huh?” your joke ended in a hiss as you wiggled your hips, his cock shifting inside you.

“One could say that,” he rumbled, jerking his hips as if to prove his point, “So what do you say? Wanna take the bet?”

“What do I get if I win?”

“You get to come.”

“And if you win?”

“I get to make you come.”

“Seems like a win-win,” you gasped, trying your hardest to lift yourself up. Your legs were straining with the effort and despite how wet you were, he was big inside you and any movement felt like it would end you in the best way.

Paz put his hand between you, his fingertips gently circling your clit. Another hiss left your lips and you could feel your walls clamping around him. Or trying to clamp around him. He was so big it felt like all you could do was simply sit there and take whatever he gave you.

Another shift, You could feel his legs move beneath you and you squeaked in surprise when he spread them further apart, your weight suddenly no longer supported by his legs. You tightened your grip around his neck shifting just that much lower on his shaft that had your walls pulsing.

His big hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, helping you stay up. It took you a second to realize that he wanted you to relax like this, that he wanted to help carry your weight like this, and you frowned.

“Trust me,” he murmured as if he could read your mind, “Let me lead, omega, I promise it will feel good.”

Before you could protest, he started to move you, lifting you up until only the tip of him remained in you. Your fingers dug into his until you could feel the blood leaving your knuckles. But Paz did not let you fall. Instead, he slowly sank you down again, just a little bit, before lifting you up again.

You gasped out a breath, his slow and shallow thrusts opening you up for more. Soon, the first few inches did not feel like they could ever be enough and when you wriggled your hips in his grip he let you sink lower until you felt like there was nowhere left to go.

“See?” he whispered, grinding you down on his cock, your clit rubbing against him, “This is how you relax, omega, all you needed was a little help to take my cock all the way.”

“Alpha,” you whimpered, trying to get him to move, “Please – please –“

“You know what I think?” he asked you his voice cool as ever as he moved you on his cock, “I think you don’t even want to win the bet,” he revealed, the coolness of the beskar against your cheek, “I think all you want is to come on my fat cock and get all cock drunk on me.”

“I have,” you gasped, your body opening up for him even more, “I have never been cock drunk.”

“First time for everything,” he teased, his hands gripping the back of your thighs even tighter, “Now rub your pretty clit for me,” he instructed, “Let me work you on my cock and you get to come all over me, hm?”

It was not difficult to get your fingers on your pussy, working yourself into a frenzy that was only helped by the way he lifted you up and down on his cock like it was no work at all. You felt like a toy almost, in his hands, letting him move you this and that way so that his cock hit a spot inside you that made you see stars.

The squelching noises told you how wet you were and they made you even wetter still. It had never been like this for you, giving up the control of your pleasure and yet you did not want it to change. On the contrary, you wanted to revel in it.

You wanted to see how big he was inside you, wanted to see how he split you open, how small you were against him, how his knot would swell against you. The images made you clench around him and the man underneath you let out a grunt, his hips thrusting up against you.

His movement hindered yours and so you decided to relax against him, leaving everything completely up to him except for the fingertips working on yourself.

His thrusts were forceful and your tits bounced with the movement. Your fingers continued to circle your clit and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to your release.

“Prettiest omega that ever sat on my cock,” he praised you, “I can already tell you were made to calm me. Made to take my cock.”

“Y-Yes,” you nodded eagerly, thinking of how the next days were going to be filled with nothing but taking his cock over and over and over again. Stars, you were lucky.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” he asked, working his, “Are you going to take my cock like a good little calmer? Sit on my knot all day? Take my come when I need you to?”

With your mouth open in a silent moan, you could only nod again. You had never felt like this before, this free and shameless. Like all that mattered was your pleasure and his because you felt like his pleasure would give you more than you had ever imagined.

The images his words caused in you made your walls pulse even more. You could see yourself spending most of your days just like this, full of his cock and breathing in his scent. Or kneeling between his legs, trying to swallow all the he could give you.

It was no surprise that with your fingers on your clit, his fantasies in your ears and his cock in your pussy, you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. And with the way his fingers tightened on you, he was close too.

“Want me to come inside you or on your face?” he asked, his voice sounding hoarse, “Or I could come on this pretty pussy? Make you play with it?”

“Inside,” you gasped, throwing your head back when his thrusts started to speed up, “Stars, please – please inside me.”

His groan slipped from under his helmet and when he hit a particular spot inside you, your vision went white. You could feel your walls spasm around him as pleasure rippled throughout your entire body. Everything tingled, from your head to your toes, and something shifted, like the world was suddenly … different.

Paz’s hands held you down on him, burying himself as deeply inside you as he could and as you sagged against him, your chest against his beskar chest, you could feel him pulse inside you.

He really was filling you to the brim.

Where before you had hardly been able to focus on what was going on around you, now you were only left with your heartbeat in your ears and the silence between you.

Hone hand swept over your back, up to the back of your neck and you leaned into his touch.

“How was that?” he asked quietly, his fingers once again seeking out that sensitive spot under your ear, “How are you feeling?”

You ran your nose over his scent gland, taking comfort in the smell that was already becoming familiar. The contact made him twitch inside you, again and again, and you swore you felt another spurt of come filling you.

“Tired,” you admitted against the fabric of his undershirt, “Tired and full and great and …” you trailed off, taking in another breath, “Good. I feel good.”

His body shook under yours in a warm chuckle. “I’m glad,” he replied, “Though it sounds like you need a good night’s sleep before the meetings tomorrow.”

“Sleep sounds good,” you mumbled, “Sleep sounds wonderful.”

“Let me get you to your bunk, then, love,” he whispered, gently untangling himself from you. “I will see you in the morning.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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multiwreckedmess · 1 year

Text

February Filth Fest - Day 3

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader Kink: Uniform WC: 2k Summary: Cast in a coming of age rom-com drama with a handsome costar who could blame either of you for taking full advantage of all the perks of being young, hot, and together nearly 24/7 for a month TW/CW: School girl uniform, fluffy sex?, unprotected sex, cumming inside, possessive Felix, light praise(m receiving), light degradation (f receiving), NO obvious power dynamics.

As per usual this is fiction it doesn’t represent Felix or stray kids. As a work of fiction it should not be used as a guide for anyone. These are characters. Please minors I can’t control what you do on the internet just know this is content meant for adults so by clicking on “keep reading” you are saying you are 18+. At the very least please respect my boundary and DO NOT INTERACT.

You hadn’t expected to fall so thoroughly for your costar Felix Lee. Yes he was handsome, yes he had an accent to die for, yes he was talented, and of course yes you had natural chemistry with him. The chemistry got you hired as a virtually unknown talent. So really you shouldn’t have been shocked to find yourself in stupid puppy love with him.

Felix was naturally flirty. It was his charm and charisma that you were feeling from him. Even as he smiled, freckles slowly being concealed by the makeup artist, and suggested you practice the on screen kiss later, “some time after work.” You didn’t really understand what he was suggesting. Blind to his advances, blind to the knowing looks from those around you, blind even to the steady praise the two of you received as a couple. Blind until you were practicing lines in your trailer and the ‘small peck’ the ‘characters’ were supposed to share turned into a dry humping session to rival those you had with your high school ex.

The costumers had approached you afterwards, stone faced and calm. “Please try not to leave your uniform skirt on the floor. The fabric tends to wrinkle and as it is pleated it requires additional maintenance.” You blushed profusely, dropping your head down in half acknowledgement, half apology, but mostly to hide the small grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You didn’t look up even as you heard the click of your trailer door, not until it reopened with Felix entering only after three polite but firm knocks. “They talk to you too?” He cocked his eyebrow mischievously. “Yeah do you think,” you trail off in horror, “no I know they know what we did. Oh my god.” “Of course they know!” Felix laughs. “I came in my pants. They told me,” he pulls his face from his bright smile into a dower serious frown, “please refrain from those sorts of activities with this particular fabric. It both stains and wrinkles easily. While we appreciate your attempts to treat the fabric we’d appreciate it more if you would simply warn us as further attempts may cause damage,” he imitates their solemn even tone. He looks for your laughter, your gentle easy smile, or even a slight twinkle in your eye. Instead he find you raking your fingers nervously through your hair, gazing into the distance between you. It only takes two motivated strides for him to cradle you in his arms, kissing the tip of your nose gently. “It’s fine, we just won’t wear them next time.” He grins devilishly and wiggles his eyebrows. “Next time? Easy for you to say, you’ve probably done this tens, no, hundreds of times.” Your voice quivers in distress. Hot tears threaten to bubble over your lash line and ruin your makeup. “For your information, I have never dated a costar. I’ve never even slept with a costar. Just you. Only you.”

From that day forward you were more bold with him but still shy in front of the rest of the cast and crew. Something about the vaguely hidden nature of your relationship made each moment feel more electric. Each kiss could possibly invite more questions. Even the kisses you were hired to do felt voyeuristic. Not that either of you would’ve minded much if you got caught. It just prolonged the thrill of the affair.

You had noticed something in all these trysts. Something you wanted to explore.

“What is it about this that gets you off?” You ask as your trailer door slammed shut behind Felix who tilts his head in momentary shock. “About…this?” His eyebrows knit in confusion. “About dating you?” You purse your lips and roll your eyes dramatically. “You really haven’t noticed, have you.” Felix carefully looks you up and down, circling around you, trying to spot whatever you are trying to hint at. “You fuck me harder when i wear this. Dummy.” You gesture at your costume. Your school uniform. Obviously stylized for the show but a school uniform nonetheless. He squeezes one eye shut, thinking over the question, “really? I don’t think so. I mean I’m used to seeing uniforms like that, I’m a Catholic school kid after all.” Your mouth drops, perhaps over-dramatically, small demonic sparks lighting your eyes as the cogs in your brain whir. “You have a school girl kink don’t you.” “I do not.” He rolls his eyes. “Oh c’mon Felix,” you grin, lifting the hem of your skirt just a little higher, just barely exposing a bit more of your thigh. “School girl kinks are so common. Besides, you never wanted to have a quickie in the confessional booth with some cute bubbly thing? You seem to just adore sneaking off set with me. And these uniform skirts are so accessible,” you let yourself trail off in a mock daze, still grinning cheekily at him. “No,” he whines, thick Australian accent chewing through each elongated vowel. “I swear! Calling it a school girl kink is…” he shivers involuntarily. “I’m too old, it feels…” he opens his mouth uselessly, transitioning back and forth from biting his lower lip to stretching out his tongue in over-exaggerated disgust. “I don’t want to talk ‘morals and values’ when I can see the outline of your dick in your pants.” You giggle as you approach him, pressing chest to chest. “Shame costumes will kill me if I wrinkle this, you look so adorable when you’re flustered.” Felix gulps, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He could feel the break clock ticking as his pants grew tighter at his crotch. Licking his lips thirstily he gives into your teasing easily. “Your ass just looks so good in that skirt, god I just wanna,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, cock pointedly throbbing at your thigh. Reaching under your skirt he grabs a handful of your ass, eyebrows shooting up as his palm touches your bare skin. “No underwear? Since when?” “Since the director announced a fifteen.” You smile coyly. “Which was about…I don’t know how long…and really,” you huff, “if costumes would kill me for a wrinkle I don’t know what they’d do when you got through with me.” You bat your eyelashes, smile fully breaking into a devious grin. “I’d really hate to find out.” Felix is already buried in your neck, making marks that you’d have to tip the makeup artists extra for. “Such a fucking tease,” he groans as his hands grope eagerly at your ass. “Working me up like this then blaming the poor costumes department. Did they tell you to take your panties off too?” “Hm, what do your deductive skills tell you, my smart boy?” “That you want me to fuck you in this skirt over the arm of the couch over there,” he snarls in your ear, biting the lobe and gently tugging, wanting to hear your gasp. “Good boy,” you coo.

Felix doesn’t use his strength often. So it comes as a shock when he nearly picks you up and places you ass up, draped over the arm of the small couch in the corner of your trailer. It sends a rush of heat straight to your gut. Heart pounding he knows the two of you don’t have much time left in your break and coming back too late and together would look unprofessional for the both of you. However the way the pleats of the skirt slope over the cleft of your ass to splay just a little looser outwards has his judgment clouded. Adding to the haze is the cute half-giggle-half-squeaks you make as he knocks your legs apart. Palms at the back of your thighs he takes his time with the reveal, pushing the hem of your skirt up, teasing himself almost as much as he teased you. Wet cunt exposed to the cool air, Felix relishes in the heat of your sex as he pushes two fingers in to prep you. “I’d have gotten in so much more trouble if you were around.”

You moan at the intrusion, back arching naturally with the slow slide of him stretching you. “Felix,” you whine, “please, quick please.”

He shushes you with a quick laugh, “fine, my love, if you’re so eager, who am I to say no?”

Presented to him lewdly over the back of the couch you hear the telltale click of his buckle hitting the floor, suspicions quickly confirmed as the warmth of his member replaces his fingers at your core. Working the head along your slit to gather your essence he is accepted easily as he pushes past your entrance. He huffs, sheathed fully as your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the significantly tighter stretch. Part of him wishes he could see your face as he fills you, the crinkle of your nose, the slaking of your jaw, all painting a portrait of ecstasy that he wanted to memorize. The other part of him loved watching your pussy accommodate him, ass jiggling as you wiggle your hips happily.

“You really never fucked a classmate before?”

“No one like you at my school.” The cute sentiment is punctuated by a slap to your ass, “We’d have gotten in so much trouble.”

The first slow drag of his cock has your eyes rolling back in your head. Felix smiles to himself, your small involuntary sigh is music to his ears.

“We?” Your question ends in a high pitched squeak as he thrusts all the way to the hilt inside of you.

Felix speeds up, bony hips snapping into your pert ass, corner of his lower lip caught in concentration between his teeth. As much as he wants to savor each and every time he fucks you, there is something thrilling about a deadline to make the both of you cum. He grunts, wrapping his arm across your chest and pulling you up into his embrace. Back bowing out from him in a deep arch your hands claw at the armrest for support.

“Yeah, bet you’d roll your skirt up just past regulation length just so all the boys would see your cute cotton panties when you sat. Such a hot little tease. Have to fuck you in the boys room so they’d know to stay the fuck away. Gotta have you screaming my name so everyone would know you’re mine, the fucking perverts.” Felix muses between grunts. Each bump of his hips into yours rubs your pelvis against the smooth leather of the couch putting just enough pressure to stimulate you, your combined bodily fluids providing enough slip for it to not pull at your skin. You shudder in his arms, pressure building everywhere, head back on his shoulder.

“Felix, I’m gonna-” your body tries to jerk forward as your walls clench around him; however he grabs you tighter to him as your thighs shake. Several pointed thrusts into your squishy spot inside sends you over the edge. Once again in a feat of strength he controls your wildly writhing frame as your climax milks him of his. Walls fluttering and covering him in your essence he repays the favor shooting deep within you, pulsing pressed flush to your entrance. Gulping and gasping you feel at ease, melting into his chest. He pants, breath fanning against your neck, droplets of condensation forming from the heat of his exhales. He stays in you, even thrusting back up as he feels himself slip from you to prolong the sensation. Hands squeezing and rocking side to side with you in a state of bliss.

Three sharp wraps at the trailer door shatter the mood. Both of you stand frozen, still tangled together, despite your skirt providing some coverage Felix’s discarded trousers would be a dead giveaway to your activities…if the person hadn’t already heard them. “Five! Back in Five!” “Thank you five!” The two of you respond in chorus. Felix’s hand flies to his mouth, looking bug eyed at each other.

“Shit.”

#felix smut #felix stray kids smut #february filth fest #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix lee smut #lee felix smut

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chvnnie · 2 years

Text

Dream

han jisung x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: reader is anxious (but there is no use of the word "anxiety") so mentions/descriptions of anxiety, pet names: sprout/squish, baby, breast/nipple play, a teeny bit of dirty talk, unprotected sex (don't do that), slight breeding kink? kinda?, they are in looooovvvveeee, just a bunch of fluff/making love. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: the world has been against you lately, but jisung will always be there to keep you safe.

a/n: sorry for being so MIA lately - this fic is a perfect representation of how i've been feeling lately, and why i've been kinda silent. hopefully this feeling will pass soon, and i can write more content for you guys. pls enjoy, sorry for being an anxious mess lately <3

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents han jisung as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy - PLEASE COMMENT OR SEND ASK TO BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT TAGLIST

It’s been a long, long day.

Anything that could have gone wrong today, did go wrong. You dropped your toothbrush in the toilet, you burnt your breakfast, your makeup smudged the second you put it on. Everything was awful, and that’s not even an exaggeration. Today has been terrible for you.

It was never ending, this string of bad luck you hit. Stuck in traffic for fifty minutes (seriously, what the fuck was that about?), then the grocery store was sold out of grapes. The cherry on top was stepping in gum, stuck to the hot pavement, in a brand new pair of white shoes.

Respectfully, today could go fuck itself.

The excursion to the store and back was enough trauma for the day. After unloading the groceries, you retreated to the bedroom, stripping out of your outside clothes in favor of something cozier. One of your boyfriend’s oversized hoodies and leggings sounded like the best outfit to wear to your pity party.

Pulling the hood over your head, you tugged on the strings, hiding all of your facial features (minus your nose). You curled up on top of the made bed, clicking through multiple streaming services until you found something comforting to watch.

You needed this. Fuck, after today, you deserved this.

Midway through an episode of some silly sitcom, your phone buzzed. Through the teeny hole in the scrunched hoodie, you checked it to find a message from Jisung.

Ji: [03:45] hiiiii baby. just wanted to let you know i’m going to be a little late tonight — we’re having a bit of a crisis in the studio and i don’t think i’ll get to slip away at my normal time. pls don’t wait on me for dinner. love you bunches, sprout.

The universe really said fuck you today, huh?

It really wasn’t that big of a deal, Jisung often stays late to work on things. You knew that late nights and early mornings were a part of his job when you started dating, and had always accepted it. Jisung loves his job, and you’ll never not support him as he chases his dreams.

But that was a blow. You had begun counting down the hours the moment your toothbrush hit the toilet bowl. You needed to be wrapped in his arms more than anything right now, and to know you won’t be getting that anytime soon-

The floodgates opened, a steady stream of hot tears rolling down your face. God, this was silly, wasn’t it? To be so mopey about Jisung working late, as if this isn’t a common occurrence. There’s no reason for you to be acting this way, to be so upset that you can barely think.

It’s just been a really bad day.

Shaky hands picked up your phone, eyes blurred as you typed out a response.

You: [04:05] ok! please make sure to eat and hydrate. love you bunches, squish, see you later.

You slid your phone across the bed, wanting it as far away from you as it could get. Your body felt heavy, chest tight as new tears welled up in your eyes. It felt silly, and even though it’s not, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were overreacting. He always works late, why is it the end of the world today?

Because it’s been a really bad day. Because a bunch of minor inconveniences have built up into something bigger, and his text was the trigger. The breaking point. The point of no return.

You’re not sure how long you laid there crying, unable to bring yourself out the ball you’ve curled yourself in. The show you were watching had stopped, and your hands had grown cold from lack of use.

Painfully, you unfurled yourself, pulling the hood off your head. The once golden room was now shades of orange; the early sunset flooding through your thin curtains. It felt cozy, almost comforting to see the walls painted with new hues, rays of pink intertwined with the orange.

It almost made you forget why you were so upset in the first place, like the day was repaying you for treating you like shit with a beauty so breathtaking it eased your soul.

You pulled yourself out of bed, slowly dragging yourself into the kitchen. Body sluggish, you began to sort the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. The meal plan reminded you that it was one of Jisung’s favorite dishes, a little heart at the end of sentence. A reminder to make extra for him.

Suddenly, your face was hot again, eyes blurring as fresh tears began to spill. Fuck, again? But you were just fine? Were you not just smiling, humming as you started to prep the ingredients? Why did it hit you out of the blue? Why won’t this feeling go away?

You didn’t even bother reshelving the food, leaving everything behind as you retreated back to the bedroom. This time you curled under the blankets, pulling them up and over your head. If you could just block out the world, maybe the hurt would cease to exist. Maybe the overwhelming waves that threatened to drag you down would calm.

Maybe you could pretend today never even happened if you just forgot the world around you existed.

Grabbing Jisung’s pillow, you brought it to your chest, hugging it tightly. Your nails dug into the cotton pillowcase, determined to keep it as close to you as possible. It smelled like him, like his cocoa butter lotion and the woodsy shampoo he loves. Willing yourself to breathe, you inhaled the familiar scents, letting them ease the pressure.

He would be home soon. It would all be okay.

Your nose burned as you sniffled, the sound so loud you didn’t even hear the bedroom door open. In fact, you were completely unaware that you were no longer alone until the comforter was pulled back.

“Baby?” Your boyfriend’s voice was soft, laced with concern and confusion. “Are you alright?”

That’s when your light tears became a full sob, chest burning as you let out every ounce of pain you’ve felt today. You shook your head, squeezing the pillow against your chest until you felt like it had become an extra limb.

Jisung was under the covers, right next to you in less than thirty seconds. Still fully dressed, he grabs your shell of a body, tugging you into his chest. One hand wrapped around your center, the other cradles your head, keeping you close enough to hear his heartbeat. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you.”

In his hold, you let everything go. Every bit of frustration and pain you’ve felt today, flowing out in the form of salty tears and hiccups. They rolled off your face and onto his leather jacket, soaking the spot where your head laid limp. Jisung said nothing, simply threading his fingers through your hair and softly brushing the tangles you’ve acquired throughout the day.

Eventually, the tears began to slow, your breaths evening out. Tension began to ease, shoulders relaxing as the pain of the day started to become unreachable.

Only once you stopped crying did Jisung speak up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

With a sniffle, you pulled the pillow out from between your bodies and nuzzled into his chest, letting yourself feel his body heat completely. You recounted your day, sharing every detail of your awful day with your boyfriend.

“It’s silly.” You mumble against his chest, bringing your sweater paws up to wipe your eyes. “It wasn’t like anything big happened-“

“Nothing you ever feel is silly.” Jisung responses, grabbing your wrist to move your hands out of your face. “A lot of shit happened today. It makes sense that you were upset, and you’re valid in those feelings.”

Looking up, you meet his eyes for the first time this evening. Partially hidden behind his dark hair, his starry eyes stared down at you. The love in them was overwhelming, a warm sensation washing over you as you took them in. Looking at him, seeing all the universes he held within his eyes, always made you feel lighter, made you feel safe.

“Thank you.” You whisper, moving your hands so they intertwine with his.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Bringing your hands to his lips, he kissed the back of them, lips warming your cool skin. “But I do have one question. Why didn’t you call me?”

The question made you pause - wasn’t it obvious? “You said there was a crisis, I didn’t want to pull you away from work-“

“There was, but it wasn’t more important than you.”

“Ji-“

“I’m serious. You’re my priority.”

“But, it’s your dream-“

“No. It’s a career. You’re my dream, Sprout.”

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t have time to focus on that. Not when your hands were moving to his face, lovingly cupping it as you pulled it down to meet yours. Lips crashing against each other, you kissed your boyfriend with such an intensity, your head began to spin. You couldn’t help it - not when he was here, loving you in ways you never dreamt of.

Jisung hummed against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips parted, letting your tongue work its way inside his mouth. The taste of him was mind numbing, washing you clean of every last doubt or worry you were holding onto.

Lazily, Jisung rolled the two of you until he was on his back, keeping you flush against him. Tongues dancing together, you let yourself fall deeper into the kiss, craving his taste like you needed it to breathe.

His hands find your hair, gently pulling you off his lips. “I love you.” He mumbles, scratching your scalp soothingly. “Bunches. Forever.”

Smiling, you lower back down, pecking his swollen lips. “I love you, bunches. Forever.” Kisses trailed onto his jawline, featherlight and pulling low groans from his throat. “Thank you for being mine.”

A peaceful silence falls over you two as Jisung submits to your kisses, hands moving down to your shoulders and further, finding home on your hips. As he slips both hands under your hoodie, you move to his neck, goosebumps breaking out under your lips.

Planting your hands on the bed, you push yourself up, bringing your legs to straddle his hips. The orange hues were now more of a purple, highlighting your lover’s face beautifully. His lips were plump, aching for more of your touch, eyes soft and hooded. He looked divine; a sinful heaven at your fingertips.

God, and he thought you were a dream?

The hands under your hoodie inched higher, resting on your upper ribs. His thumbs teased the underside of your breasts, rubbing firm circles. “You look so good in my clothes.” His voice is raspy, the need dripping from his words. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face flush, warm flooding your body and making your lower belly tingle. Moving your hands to his chest, you pushed the leather jacket off, Jisung squirming to throw it off the bed. When gone, a hand creeps to his neck, thumb playing with his bottom lip.

Jisung pulls your thumb in, suckling lightly on the tip. He kept eye contact with you, his hands moving until they cupped your breasts fully. Rolling your head back, you arched into his touch, lost in the way he massaged you. When his thumbs pressed on your nipples, you groaned, free hand gripping his shirt.

He chuckles, thumb falling from his lips. “So sensitive, Sprout. Do you like the way it feels?”

You whimper out a confirmation, pulling at his shirt needily. Holding onto you for support, Jisung sits up, letting you rid him of his shirt. Your hoodie follows, and Jisung wastes no time cupping your breasts again, peppering kisses across the swell of them. His hands are so warm, lips so plush against your soft skin that it makes you dizzy.

The purple rays begin to fade into black, the bedroom growing darker as you begin to pull Jisung’s belt off. His lips have moved to your nipples, alternating between kissing and sucking the bud, occasionally using his teeth to hear your pretty whimpers. Once his belt is off, he lifts his hips, letting you shed him of his jeans and underwear. His heavy cock springs up, hitting his lower abdomen. One hand wraps around the base, reveling in the way he hissed at the contact, while the other works on pulling off your bottoms.

It’s not long before you’re both bare, bodies melding into one. His skin against yours is exhilarating, body erupting in pleasure just from that feeling alone. Cupping his face, you pull him off your chest, needing to feel his lips on yours again. It’s a loving touch, one that makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” You whisper so softly, as if the words would break the passion between you.

His hands match yours, clearing your face of any hair that clung to it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

You smile, seeking the caress of his lips again. Trailing your fingers down, you slide a hand between your bodies, finding his member. Jisung moans against your lips as you maneuver it, positioning it at your entrance.

Gasping into the kiss, you slide down, letting him consume you. The stretch is something you’ll never get used to, but something you’ll always crave. He fits so perfectly inside of you, filling you to the brim and hitting every spot he needs to. Once fully sheathed, you pause, taking a second to deepen the kisses.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You begin to lift your hips, his full moans echoing off the bedroom walls. “You’re here now.”

The rhythm you set is slow, but deep, letting both you and Jisung savor the pleasure that you give each other. Nothing in the world - not a bad day, not a studio crisis, not any inconvenience - matters when Jisung is around. When you get to love each other on an otherworldly level, expressing it in the purest way.

His hands grip your hips, assisting you in your motions. The pace picks up a tad, keeping the depth but helping the two of you chase your edges. Whimpering, you break the kiss, head resting on his shoulder as you let Jisung take control.

His heart is pounding against your chest, breath heavy as he starts to kiss your shoulder. “My everything.” He mumbles, groaning between words. “Nothing is more important than this. Nothing is more important than - fuck - you.”

The words are sweet, filling you with a yearning so overwhelming, you never think you’ll recover from it. You never want to recover from it. They help move you along, help your legs begin to tremble and core begin to tighten. When your walls restrict, your lover’s moans deepen, his hips beginning to thrust up.

“Cum with me.” You whine, lifting your head up.

Jisung’s dark eyes meet yours, words failing to fall from his lips as he moves a hand in between your centers. Resting his hand on our mound, his thumb reaches down, drawing what feels like hearts against your clit. It’s just what you need - eyes rolling back as you feel your release rushing to the surface.

It only takes a few more thrusts from the dam to break, your orgasm hard and plentiful. Your vision gets fuzzy as it goes on and on, feeling like it’s never ending. In the middle of your high, Jisung reaches his. It’s just as hard, just as filling as he spills inside of you. Neither of you stop your motions until you’re sure the other has emptied out.

The room is pitch black now, the sun finally set on the longest day. Jisung falls limp against you, breaths heavy as he pants on your shoulder. You can barely keep yourself up, eyes heavy and body aching. If it weren’t for his nails digging into your hips, you’re sure you would’ve collapsed just as he had.

You wrap your arms around Jisung, tilting to the side and making you both crash onto the mattress. He grunts at the impact, a fit of giggles spilling from you.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He half groans, half whines, nuzzling deeper into your neck. “My body is exhausted.”

“It was just cute.” You whisper, rubbing his back soothingly. Neither of you are in a rush to move, content to stay interlocked until the sun decides to rise again.

“Sprout?”

“Squish?”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” His words are muffled against your neck, but you can still hear the sentiment behind them. “I never want you to feel like I’m not here when you need me. The only place I ever want to be is by your side, so please, please call me next time.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but this time, you don’t feel sad or scared, overwhelmed or worried. Jisung makes you feel a love like no other, a joy that’s never ending. Life with him is like-

“Did you mean it? About me being your dream?”

Jisung pulls his head out of your neck to look at you, a sweet, fond smile painting his face. “I did. You’re like the best, most fulfilling dream I’ve ever had, and I can’t believe I never have to wake up.”

©: chvnnie 2022

#skz smut #stray kids smut #straykidsland #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #han jisung fluff #han fluff #jisung fluff #han jisung tiddie enthusiast

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deepperplexity · 5 months

Text

Prompt: 22. Lights And Strings [C7]

Pairing: Turpin x Fem!Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, 6. Out Of Care, 13. Shimmering Icicles, 15. Cards And Coals, 17. Bells Of Christmas & 18. Blankets And Snuggles

A/N: It’s the last part of the Turpin serial for this Rickmas, darlings! 🥰👏 It’s currently 07:58 over here when I finish writing this and I’m going to be publishing it right away - it does take some time getting it up on AO3 and Tumblr but I have a packed day so figured I’d kick it off on the right foot while my husband drops off our daughter for her last day at preschool for the year 🥰

This is shorter, like I said yesterday I won’t have the time to write long fics for the last three prompts unless I turn manic and stay up until like 2 am 😂 I hope you’ll like this sweet ending though. After all, HEA was promised and now we are also at the end of Rickmas so these last three need to represent having reached our destination and survived another year I guess 😅👍

Tags/TW’s: Kissing, Embracing, Love, Care, Adoration, Possessive Feelings, Honesty, Changing for SO, Mentions Rough Smut And Proper Aftercare, All The Giddy Feels, Being Self-aware

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 1.2k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

It had been four days since that faithful day of cataclysmic change between you and your husband — your caring, sweet, depraved man of a husband. Waking up alone felt strange, he usually woke you up for a kiss before work nowadays but today you woke up alone.

Stretching in bed, you yawned and felt some kinks straighten out in your back from last night’s odd position. He’d had you bent backwards over the edge of the bed while he delighted in eating you out for several long moments before he decided to claim you while groaning depravities for all in the house to hear. I cannot believe I enjoy such things being said to me— No, no it’s only when he says such things. All other men can go to hell for saying such things to women. Double standard or not, I won’t stand for men treating women like that without their consent.

You giggled at yourself, and your strange thoughts, and kicked your legs under the cover while thinking of all the sweetness he poured over you after everything was said and done. Each time, and he never left you alone in bed afterward either. He always cuddled and held you close, you absolutely loved it — the contrast between the rough lovemaking and the soft aftercare he lavished upon you. You¨d picked up his teaching swiftly, after all, it wasn’t a difficult thing to do when he was such a good leader. You didn’t have to think, only feel.

“Where are you now?” You asked aloud while throwing on your robe and slipping your feet into some warm slippers. “Guess I shall go for a little hunt of my own,” you said with a smile and left the bedroom to find your husband. What you found when you reached the stairs was something else entirely though.

The railing was dressed in garlands and red strings of silk, every surface you could see while you walked downstairs was covered in decorations. Everything you had put up and then taken down was back — not where you’d put them of course, but they were back. There was Christmas everywhere you looked, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air along with sulphur and you couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading your lips.

You rushed the rest of the way down, nearly bolting toward the office while you tried to take in the fact your home was covered in holiday cheer. You threw open the door, “Richard—” But he wasn’t there. “Where are you?” you asked yourself before turning back, heading toward the parlour. Perhaps you’d find him lounging with a book there.

You found him standing before the roaring fire, a cup of coffee in his large hand and his body dressed in all red. Wine red to be precise, with black detailing and silken details — like his ascot pinned with a gleaming jade pin. He was an absolute vision, yet his eyes were fixed firmly on you while they came to live as swirling grey storms.

“Love,” he said darkly, his eyes travelling along your entire form before reaching your eyes once more. You felt incredibly underdressed compared to him. “Richard,” you replied and walked toward him with fluttering butterflies in your stomach. “What is all this?” you asked while he sat his cup down and reached out to embrace you. “Merry Christmas, love,” he said and kissed the top of your head before tugging you even closer and kissing you deeply for a few seconds before he straightened. “M-Merry Christmas,” you replied and felt no shame about inhaling his scent as if you were dependent on it. His deep chuckle warmed your very bones while he gave you a squeeze before letting you go — only holding your hands.

“You hate Christmas,” you whispered while your eyes travelled all around. The many candles lit, the garlands and silken strings, and the holly and little porcelain decorations all craved your attention. “But I love you,” he replied while grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him. “So I shall endure and make sure that smile of yours keeps shining, love.” “Oh, Richard, sweet husband of mine,” you said gently, appreciation evident in your voice. He chuckled. “Sweet, hm? For you, only.” “Just how I want it,” you confessed. You were too possessive of the man not to feel giddy about being his one and only, his exception, his little wife whom he called all things between a filthy whore and his sweet wife.

Richard led you through the house, showing all the decorations and little details, he appeared nearly proud of his work but if you were correct he was really proud about satisfying you. It was a strange sensation, that lights and strings could make a man such as he puff out his chest with pride while intensely gauging your reactions. You, who were nothing as extraordinary as he, were the most important person to him and only your opinion and feelings mattered to the great judge of London whom all feared.

You were not nothing, of course. You were a Lady, born and raised in a grand family with teachers and instructors, you were a capable woman within the field of being a Lady but that was nothing compared to being a judge by societal standards. So, for all intents and purposes, you were nothing in comparison. To know that little you were of such great importance to a man like your husband had your stomach turning with glee and joy. It wasn’t a feeling you had liked at first, it was selfish, or perhaps self-righteous, but now you adored it. With Richard you were safe to feel however you felt, there was no shaming between the two of you and you absolutely loved that.

Richard led you into the dining room where a grand breakfast was laid out on the table, no servant in sight. “My sweet wife,” Richard said and pulled out your chair before scooting you in. “Thank you.” He sat down beside you, which was odd as he always sat opposite you. But, as soon as he had poured himself a fresh cup of coffee it became apparent why. His hand landed atop your thigh, only separated from your skin by your night dress and robe. You loved having him so close, loved having him touch you, loved feeling his warmth and strength so you only looked up at him with warm eyes while he gave you a half smile before sipping his coffee.

You ate breakfast in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until you had both finished that he leaned closer, whispering in your ear about how he wanted to take you to his office and use the silky red strings from the decorations to tie you over his desk. You had shot up from the chair so fast it would have toppled if Richard hadn’t caught it when it tipped backward. The smirk he wore told you all you needed to know, he’d make good on the promise and you had never imagined Christmas decorations would ever be part of lovemaking — you would soon find out just how wonderful silken strings could feel around one’s wrists. Perhaps you and your husband would create new Christmas traditions, ones he could love and enjoy too…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Oh how I hope this little ending warmed you right up darling - it's short but so so so sweet and I really just allowed the words to flow this morning. I do love how this shows the HEA they will forever have and the freedom they have with each other. Gosh, it's just so sweet 😍👏 AND IT'S ALMSOT CHRISTMAS DARLINGS!!!!

Q: Have you ever gone skiing? Can you ski? A: I have gone skiing, both distance and downhill (no idea what it's called) but I'm afraid of heights so I stick to distance if I gotta go 😂😂😂

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @elizabeth-baelish @all-art-is-quite-useless @severuslovebot @yellowbadgermole @impulse-anchor @writewithmarites @yan-senna @writewithmarites @lokisbjchnl @ladykardasi @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #alan rickman #judge turpin #judge turpin fic #judge turpin x reader #turpin x reader #turpin x you #turpin fic #rickmaniac #christmas fic #fanfiction

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staytheword · 2 years

Text

snakeskin

snakeskin — part one of the smell of roses [ ← prologue → part two (tba) ] [ series masterlist ] [ playlist ] [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors do NOT interact!! no real people are represented.

• lee know x female reader / changbin x female reader / lee know x female reader x changbin (NOT a love triangle), all other stray kids members are featured but not main characters. this specific chapter is lee know x reader focused.

• non idol au, bikers au, rivals to lovers au, small town au. inspired by sons of anarchy. (not beta-read so I apologize)

• word count: 15.1k (15,118) (sorry)

• warnings: mentions of all sorts of illegality; money laundering, drugs and weapons dealing. corruption and blackmail. a lot of drinking (often excessive). a lot of swearing and insulting. drug consumption (weed only). anger management problems. mental health issues (people are not quite sane). mentions of scars. mention of violence (stabbing). mention of pyromania. threatening with a weapon (knife). blood, wounds, stitching. mention of murder.

smut. dom minho. unprotected sex (stay safe people), semi-public groping, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f and m both receive and give), deepthroating, choking, hair pulling, use of the words “good girl”, creampie, a little bit of a degradation kink.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he whispers. You find yourself nodding.

• taglist: @upallnight-s ; @ughbehavior ; @changbinluvr ; @valreadsfics ; @ppiri-bahng ; @mchslut ; you? (let me know if I forgot you)

“I get what you’re saying, Y/N, but there’s just nothing I can do.”

You groan at Jeongin and he smiles apologetically. You’re sitting on a bench near the police station, where you’ve asked him to meet you. You brought coffee. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst – caffeine is definitely not a good idea, but you’ve been so on edge for the past twenty-four hours you can’t sleep. You figure at some point your body is just going to crash, so you keep pushing it.

You needed to find some reassurance, to explore your options, so you asked Jeongin if there was anything he, or the police, could do about the Vices. You didn’t want him to chase them out of the town, just to find a loophole so you, your father and the shop could be left alone.

Jeongin shrugs. “Don’t worry too much about it. It won’t change anything for you, I’m even sure you’ll end up forgetting about it.”

“That’s cute. As if I could,” you sigh. “It changes everything for me, Jeongin. Everything.”

He pats your shoulder gently. “Just keep your head down, it’ll be fine. You’ve made it this far without pissing them off, which knowing you is a gooddamn miracle.”

You sigh. “But what if I want to choke him with my two hands?” you cry out. “Will you cover for me?”

“You know I would, Trouble,” Jeongin answers with a chuckle. “But I don’t think you’d last long after that. Changbin would be out for your blood.”

You stare blankly at your friend. “Who the hell is Changbin?”

“His Vice.”

“You – what – how did – hold up. Are you on a first name basis with them?”

Jeongin shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. “Some of them. Changbin is helping me fix my Chevy. He’s good with cars and they have really good contacts to get rare parts.”

“Jeongin…” you sigh. “You’re supposed to be a police officer.”

“I am,” he retorts. “I gave a parking ticket the other day.”

You shake your head in exasperation, but there is a slight smile on your lips. You talk for a while – he’s recently adopted a puppy – but you let him go back to work, or to whatever the police do in Temperance.

You stop for groceries on the way home. Maybe cooking will help you calm down. It’s not that you’re scared of retribution, but it feels like you’re being watched. Like something – or someone – could jump at your throat at any second to teach you a lesson. Like you’ve just tempted the devil a little too much and he’s waiting for the right moment to get back at you and drag you to hell.

As you’re contemplating either staying locked up at home or making sure you’re in a public place all night, waiting to cross a street, a motorcycle stops in front of you. He lifts up the visor of his helmet – Lee Minho.

“Ah. Wondered where you were.”

You stare at him, both fed up and defensive. “What?”

“The flower shop was awfully quiet without you to throw insults at my face,” he chuckles. He’s balancing on both legs, seemingly as much at ease on his bike as he is breathing. He’s wearing short sleeves today, and you spy a few small tattoos.

“Someone’s got to do it,” you spit back. “I’ll gladly volunteer.”

“Should we make it a daily appointment, then? Just to keep me on my toes.”

“You really are –” You stop because you suddenly realize what he has said. “Wait, you’ve been to the shop?”

“Your father was ready to conclude our conversation. Went smoothly without you screaming bloody murder.”

You don’t know if you should feel angry or betrayed – both emotions come so strongly at once you’re left in shock. Your father went behind your back.

The arrangement is made.

It’s over.

You feel strangely empty.

“Don’t look so defeated,” Minho tells you. “I’m not going to be in your hair.”

“You’re just going to take my money every month, huh?” You squint your eyes at him. “What are you going to do with it? Buy yourself a new shotgun? Burn it for fun?”

“Hm. I never thought of that,” he answers, leaning against his bike. “Thanks for the idea. Keep it coming.”

“I swear, you fucking dick, I’m this fucking close to getting myself a baseball bat and trashing your bike when you’re sleeping,” you hiss without thinking.

To your surprise – well, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, the guy is clearly unstable – Minho bursts out laughing. “Just my bike, really? Why not bash my brains in?”

“Don’t fucking tempt me.”

“Such a foul mouth.”

He says it almost tenderly, and you frown at him. What the hell is his problem? Is he getting turned on by your threats? You wouldn’t put it past him.

You don’t know how that makes you feel.

You suddenly become aware of his thighs, pressed against the motorcycle seat. Of his hands, safely tucked in leather gloves. Of the curve of his lips as he traces them with his tongue.

“Since you didn’t want to give me your name, I asked around,” he tells you in a lower voice. “Ji had quite a few stories to tell.”

You clench your fists.

“He did tell me your name, but I think I prefer what they called you in high school. Trouble, right?”

He takes the time to articulate the world, his tongue lingering against the back of his teeth, his face showing absolute content. You try really hard not to spit in his face or slap him – you’re only able to restrain yourself because a part of you is worried he would like it.

“Love the nickname. You’d fit right in with us.”

“I’d rather choke on razor blades,” you laugh bitterly.

“Mmm,” he says. “Remove the razor blades and it can be done.”

You stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded. The guts on this guy. You guess he is not the president of a motorcycle club for nothing, but still. This is a lot.

“See you soon, Trouble.”

He puts his visor down and drives away, and you realize you’ve been holding onto your grocery bags so tight your hands are white and painful. You put them on the ground for a few seconds, sighing deeply, wondering if maybe you should’ve listened to your friends and be a little less stupid.

Only when you find yourself engulfed in the darkness of your room do you realize that you did it. You did it. You ruined someone’s night – and not just anybody’s. Minho’s. An ecstatic laugh escapes your lips and echoes in your cold bedroom.

You’re in the middle of doing paperwork for the shop when your phone rings. It’s Hyunjin, so you answer quickly. You’re alone in the Rose Garden today because your father had a medical appointment, and maybe it’s better this way. You’re having a little trouble forgiving him for going behind your back – luckily, he’s your father and he knows you better than anyone. He knows the best thing to do, if he wants to avoid another fight, is to give you space and time.

You’d rather have a fight, but that’s just you.

“Hey Hyun,” you smile, putting the call on speaker.

There’s no one in the shop, and since it’s still early in the morning, the chances of a client walking in are slim. People usually come around during their lunch, or after work to grab their orders or to buy a spontaneous bouquet for their loved ones. You’ve heard it all, you’ve seen it all. Please forgive me. I don’t want to break up. I’m sorry. Get some rest. Heal soon. Congratulations. I love you.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says, his velvet voice tingling your ears even through the phone. “Are you coming to the pub tonight?”

You frown. “I don’t know. Probably. It’s Tuesday.”

You always go to Rossi’s on Tuesdays because the shop is closed on Wednesdays. It’s a ritual that you break only for emergencies or special occasions.

“Hm. That’s what I thought. Well, maybe don’t come tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to be there.”

“Why not?” you repeat, sincerely intrigued.

“They’re all going to be there,” Hyunjin mutters. He explains that his boss suddenly called earlier, asking all available employees to come into work that night. The Vices had decided to host a party at Rossi’s and there would be a lot of people there. “So yeah, maybe stay away?”

You roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Who the hell do they think they care? If you’re gonna host a goddamn party at least call in advance. Pretentious pricks.”

Hyunjin ignores you. “So you’re not coming, right? Please tell me you’re staying home.”

“Fuck no, Hyun,” you spit, and you hear him sigh deeply. “You bet your cute ass I’m going to be there.”

“Y/N,” he warns you, but it’s your time to ignore him.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you smile maniacally.

“That’s not why I called you –”

“I’ll see you tonight!”

You hang up after he tells you goodbye in a wary voice and your mind immediately enters brainstorming mode. How could you entirely ruin their little party? You’re just one person, and according to Hyunjin, there’s going to be a lot of them – but that does not scare you. They do not scare you.

Not even that fucker Lee Minho.

Maybe you should actually bring a bat and swing it in front of his face to see if he’d still be laughing.

You usually go to Rossi’s dressed in your casual clothes, whether it be overalls or a sundress. You have absolutely no consistency in your personal style but you don’t care. It allows you to have a variety of outfits in your closet – and one of them is perfect for tonight.

Leather skirt. Black top. Combat boots.

You’re going to make them think you’re one of them. You’re going to be a fucking tease and mess with their heads. You want to make them angry. You want to push their buttons. You want to see how far they’ll go. You don’t care anymore.

They’ve already taken what was most precious to you.

In comparison, giving them blue balls is really not that bad of a punishment. But it’s a start.

You get to Rossi’s around ten, wearing your smokey eyes and perfume as weapons. The pub is already packed, the music louder than usual. There are a scandalous number of bikes parked in front of it, and you clench your teeth. A few people are hanging outside, smoking, chatting. Two are already making out like their life depends on it.

You step inside – it’s about ten degrees hotter than outside and you take a deep breath. There are a lot of people there. You spot Hyunjin behind the bar, working as fast as he can, not looking like he’s having much fun. Claire, another barmaid, has a nervous smile on her lips. You don’t want to give them more work, but you need at least one drink if you’re going to make it through the night.

It's a miracle you find an empty seat at the bar, but you do. You hate your skirt, it’s way too short and tight, but you have to endure it. If you just manage to ruin the night of one of them, you’ll be happy.

“Can I just get a pint?” you ask Claire, who gives you a more genuine smile and pours you a pale ale, your usual.

You take a few big gulps, spinning on the stool to take a look around. There are so many of those leather cuts it’s ridiculous. Most people are from around town – you even see Jeongin and a few other cops playing pool with Vices – and a lot of girls wearing revealing outfits like you, although they’re not doing it with the same purpose as you. From their giggling and wiggling, they just want to fuck a biker – and the latter are ready to indulge. Jisung already has his nose against a blonde girl’s neck.

You get lost in your thoughts and get startled when Hyunjin leans towards you across the counter, his eyes dark.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

You giggle innocently. “What do you mean? I’m not wearing anything special.”

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N, I’ve never seen anyone that likes to stir shit as much as you.”

You wink at him, and he walks away – it’s not like he has time to give you a lecture, anyway. He just makes sure to glare at you once more, mouthing a go home although you’re sure he knows you’re going to ignore him.

You take your time deciding on a target – you had planned on starting with Jisung since you know him, but he’s already busy. Maybe Chris? He has a girlfriend, but won’t that make it even better for your objective? He’s over there, with his bright orange hair, and looks bored out of his mind. You’ll entertain him, you chuckle. You decide to at least finish your first pint before you go on the offense, but before you can, you feel someone slide in the space between your stool and the next.

“Interesting. I would’ve bet you were a red ale girl,” he smirks.

It's Lee Minho, of course.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, giving him your best smug smile.

“Red’s my color,” he states, arching an eyebrow.

You do the same. “Says the guy always wearing black.”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at you, eyeing you up and down. You don’t mind – you even return the favor. Tonight, he’s wearing a simple t-shirt under his cut, and his jeans are torn at the knees. There’s a chain around his wrist, another around his neck. His silver hair falls on his forehead, hiding his scar a little.

“Did you dress up for me, doll?”

You shrug. “For anyone who bothers to look.”

“Hm,” he shakes his head. “Looking for a fuck?”

“Why, are you interested?”

He barks out a laugh, his eyes shining. “And I thought you didn’t want to play.”

Raising his arm, he snaps his fingers and Claire immediately rushes to him. You wonder if they were given directions to give him priority. The president.

“Get us a few shots of whiskey, will you?” he asks, not looking away from you. You hold up his stare, making sure to stay entirely unfazed. Which you definitely are.

“So, what is this party for, exactly?”

“Just us celebrating the fact that we now own every square feet of this town,” he replies in a low voice. “Thanks to your father. I should’ve invited him as guest of honor. How rude of me.”

Your façade breaks and you clench your fists. “You fucking dick,” you hiss. “I swear, I…”

He shakes his head, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Now, now, doll. Not that I don’t like hearing filthy words coming out of your cute mouth, but how about we hold off the insults tonight? I’m trying to unwind.”

You want to slap him so bad your hand twitches – but Claire chooses this moment to come back with a small tray filled with six shots of whiskey.

You stare at it. “Is this just for the two of us?”

“It’s a party, remember, Trouble?”

His use of your old nickname irritates you – and yet it doesn’t. You decide not to pick up on it and you grab the first shot. What the hell. It might make your night’s mission easier if you think about it. You take the first and the second shot in a row. Minho does the same, leaning closer to you when he’s done.

He hands you the last shot, clinking it against his. “To my new favorite girl.”

You down the shot and stand up. The space between you was already small, and your body slides against his as you stretch your legs. He lets you do it, not moving an inch. You let a smile linger on your lips and stare at his. You drag your finger against his mouth, where a drop of whiskey lingers. Then, you pop your finger in your mouth to lick it clean.

“Thanks for the shots,” you tell him in a whisper before you walk away. You head for your intended target. A part of you expects Minho to grab your arm or your wrist to get the last word, but he doesn’t. He just lets you go.

The music is loud, electric guitars and heavy drums dulling your senses alongside the whiskey. A few people playing darts suddenly erupt in loud laughter. It’s easy to spot the orange hair, so you follow it through the crowd, stumbling a little – all that booze is hitting you pretty hard. A few seconds later, you’ve lost orange boy.

“Where the fuck is –” You’re not watching where you’re going. Your foot butts against something and you lose your balance, the rest of your beer dangerously tilting in your glass. You expect to hit the ground any second, but something holds you up. Someone.

You look up to see Vice staring at you. He pulls on your arm, putting you back straight on both your feet.

“Thanks,” you say in a small voice.

He’s staring at you, looking slightly pissed off, as he usually does. You remember what you’ve heard – anger management issues. A good mechanic. Very protective of his president. Hm. Maybe he could be your next target. Although you’re not sure if it’s a good idea to push the buttons off a guy who once almost beat someone to death.

“Don’t drink if you can’t handle it,” he tells you, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak. He has a grainy voice, full of spite, but it’s also strangely endearing. His lips are a soft pink, plump and cute. You’re a little drunk so you openly stare at them. Maybe you have a problem, too.

“What if I was just trying to get your attention?” you answer with a smile.

His eyes squint slightly. “That’d be stupid,” he replies. “You could’ve just fallen on your face.”

“But I didn’t,” you say. “Your big strong arms caught me.”

To emphasize your point, you slide your hand on his bicep. There’s a tattoo there – the club’s logo. You feel its edges under your fingertips. He tenses, taking a step back.

“Go away,” he sighs.

You pout. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to dance. Or teach me how to play pool, maybe? I can pretend I don’t know how to hold the cue.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work. You’re not one of those biker chicks,” he says with disdain, nodding his head towards a bunch of giggling girls.

“You know nothing about me, Changbin.”

He blinks at you in surprise, and his face immediately darkens.

“If you keep messing with me, you’re not gonna like what you find,” he threatens, his voice nearly reduced to a growl.

“Oh, but I do.” You put a finger against his chest. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you and I want to find out which ones are true.”

He sighs. “Why don’t go and find someone who’s in the mood to flirt with you? You’re really wasting your time with me.”

You’re seconds away from screaming in frustration. The guy is a brick wall. Nothing is getting through. You give up – you let down your arms and give him an annoyed look.

“Fuck you,” you snarl – and that’s when he almost breaks into a smile.

“That’s more like it. Now, go away.”

You oblige him once more, heading through the crowd to find someone else to annoy. You look back after a couple of steps, strangely hoping to find him looking at you, but his back is to you. A very nice-looking back, at that. What a shame it’s ruined by that stupid angelic devil stitched on the leather.

You end up standing rather pathetically in some corner, having no fun at all. You were so sure your plan was perfect, but clearly you were wrong. You feel bitter and annoyed – and you feel desperately lonely. It’s the feeling you hate the most in the entire world, and when it creeps up on you, you usually chase it down with any kind of rush or stupid decision. It does not help when you’ve been drinking, which you have.

Fuck the Vices.

You have half a mind to start grabbing bottles and glasses and smash them on the floor. What if you grabbed someone’s hair and punched them on the nose? What if you screamed at the top of your lungs? But you care about Rossi’s too much to really make a scene, so you just storm out. Once you’re outside, you take out a joint with shaking heads, trying to light it as you walk, but it’s too windy and your lighter just doesn’t want to work. You groan in frustration, clutching the joint in your fist, officially ruining it.

Great.

Your life is in ruins.

You don’t have anyone.

And all you see are those fucking bikes.

What if you just gave them a kick? You could watch them fall like dominos and laugh your ass off.

“Here.”

You jump at the sudden sound of Jisung’s voice next to you. He’s so silent. So creepy. But he’s handing you a lit joint.

“Just giving back what I owe,” he says.

You don’t even care. You take the hit, but it doesn’t calm you down. It only seems to make your rage rise in your throat, and you’re on the verge of tears. You’re so angry. So disappointed. Your father had promised.

It’ll never be theirs, he had said. I promised your mother and I promise you now. The Rose Garden will never belong to them.

“Y/N.” Jisung’s hand is on your shoulder. You’re not sure what he wants to tell you, but you don’t really care. You just need to exorcise the loneliness out of your chest – so you grab his collar and pull him into a desperate kiss. His lips are soft and taste like cherries, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, his tongue seeking yours. Your hand slides in his soft hair, and you just want to forget everything.

Jisung bites your lip a little too hard and you moan in his mouth. He pushes you against the brick wall of the pub, his fingers sliding down your body to squeeze your skin. His hand is lifting your skirt and he kisses you hard.

You wanted Hyunjin to be your first everything – but it ended up being Jisung. He’s a heavenly good kisser and your first time wasn’t even that bad, considering you were both inexperienced and high on weed. It’s been a long time since then, but his taste is still familiar. You wonder if he still has a soft spot for putting his fingers so deep in your mouth you gagged.

You’re too drunk to care that you’re making out with a Vice, and as you want to ask Jisung to go somewhere more private, he suddenly disappears from around you.

You blink, your eyes adjusting back to your environment.

“Get back inside, Ji,” Minho growls, holding his friend by the collar. He throws him in the direction of the pub entrance, visibly annoyed.

Jisung gives you an apologetic smile. Your mind is completely blank.

“For someone who hates the Vices so much, you sure didn’t seem to mind tongue fucking one.”

You stare at Lee Minho, pissed at having been interrupted, at not having achieved what you wanted from tonight, at everything.

“What’s wrong with you?” you groan.

“I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine. And I specifically told Jisung to keep his hands from you.”

It takes you a second too long to register what Minho has just said.

“Excuse me?” you yell at him. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Minho lifts his chin, arrogance seeping off of him.

“What is yours?” You repeat, laughing hysterically. “This is not a movie, you’re not the master of the fucking universe. Jesus Christ, dude, you need a reality check.”

“No, Trouble. You do.”

His voice suddenly hits differently. It stops you from spitting venom at his face, because he actually looks mad. A strange light has sparked in his eyes, and you step back against the brick wall, your hands holding your body up.

“I do own this town, and you owe some fucking respect,” he tells you, pinning you there without even touching you. “I only let you run your mouth because there’s nothing you can actually do against me, and it’s amusing to see you think you can.” He smirks at you, but there is no amusement there – just malice. “However, I have my fucking limits and you’re very nearly hitting that nail on the head.”

It’s out of your control – you open your mouth to retaliate. Minho’s eyes spark like lightning and his hand slaps against your mouth. His fingers are sprawled over your face, pushing just enough to hold it there without hurting you.

“You’re really asking for it, huh?” he mutters. In the darkness, with his eyes lighted up, he looks insane. You’re scared but you also don’t care about what happens to you. It’s making you reckless. It’s making him reckless, too.

Except he has a knife and you don’t.

Except he pulls said knife and rests it against your neck.

It feels cold against your skin.

“What if I just opened your throat, doll? What would happen?” He laughs. “No one could do a damn thing to stop me. And I could just carry on living as I already do. And you’d just be dead.”

He’s not just bringing you down – he’s shoving you six feet under with a fucking shovel, savagely hitting you on the head with it. Your eyes are filled with tears, and you’re pretty sure that the second he removes his hand, you’ll fall on the ground with a whimper.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he whispers.

You find yourself nodding.

“Good girl.”

He puts his knife back in his pocket and then removes his hand. Your legs wobble but he holds you up, helping you back on your feet.

“Now, let’s get you home,” he says more softly, petting your hair like a child. “Call her a taxi, will you, Vice?”

You just notice that Changbin is standing a few feet away, watching the scene. You expect him to look as he usually does – both disinterested and irritated. However, there is something different in his eyes this time. It might be because you’re drunk and scared, but you could swear he seems worried. If it’s for you or Minho, you have no idea.

He nods at the words and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Meanwhile, Minho turns to you.

“Get some rest, Trouble. You’ll need it.”

You have no idea what that means but you can’t find the strength to ask. You watch him walk away, and you can’t stand still anymore so you sit on the sidewalk to wait for the taxi. Changbin stays with you, standing in silence behind you.

When the taxi gets there, he helps you up and gives your address to the driver – how and why he is in possession of that information is beyond what you can comprehend. You decide to just close your eyes and sleep until you get home.

That day, you and your father are working in silence. You’re cleaning and he’s preparing an order in the back. You wouldn’t say you’re back on good terms, but time has passed, and you’ve managed, not to forgive him, but to understand. He had no choice. You’d been the childish one, thinking the Rose Garden could be safe, that you could hold it back from Vices’ hands. It would’ve happened eventually. At least, now, you have time to get used to it before you take over the shop. Not that you’ll make their lives easier – you have already planned on handing them their precious bribes in very small bills.

Not that it didn’t make you angry – but you figure your anger was better directed at the bikers than at your father, who just tried to make ends meet, who just tried to keep you safe. He’d made his promise to you – but you couldn’t imagine how it felt for him to break it in spite of himself.

You place fresh hyacinths in the display, twirling them so they look their best, inhaling their scent. It’s one of your favorite things about the Rose Garden – how heavenly everything smells. You just have to close your eyes, let the scents fill your lungs, and you feel more at peace.

The bell at the door rings and you turn to smile at the client. “Good morning, how–” You stop, because it’s Lee Minho standing there. Your smile fades, but his doesn’t.

“How pleasant. Good morning.”

What is it about him that precipitates such a strong urge for cold blooded violence?

Tsk.

Everything.

Your father appears from the workshop. “What can I do for you today, sir?” He politely asks. “Let me help you.”

“No, Dad,” you protest. “I’ll take care of him.” You turn to Minho with your utmost polite smile, and he smirks in amusement.

“Delightful,” he simply says.

“Y/N…” Your father mutters.

“It’s fine, Dad. Really,” you make sure to give him a sincere smile, and he sighs, going back to the workshop.

You turn to Minho. “What do you want?”

“Flowers,” he says simply. “Why else would I be here?”

You scoff. “I can think of a few reasons.”

“It’s true,” he says, taking a few steps inside the store to look around. He glances at the orchids, the jasmines. The magnolias grab his attention. “It’s my grandmother’s birthday tomorrow. I’d like to get her a bouquet.”

You can’t hold back the look of surprise on your face. One second, he’s putting a knife to your throat, the next he wants to buy flowers. Minho chuckles softly.

“What, did you think I don’t have a grandmother?”

“No, I just – Nevermind.”

You shake your hair out of your face and take a deep breath.

“You have any idea what kind of flowers you want?”

He shrugs. “I’m open to suggestions.”

For a second, you decide to forget who he is – this is business, and you’re a professional. Besides, he hasn’t been awful just yet, and if you can make some money off of him for once, you’ll take the opportunity.

“Alright. Let me see.” You look around the shop, biting your lip, before you gesture towards a display. “I love those. They’re call snapdragons, so you might think they’d look rough, but they’re very delicate. Beautiful to start a bouquet. However, if you want to go towards a cold palette, the Lackspur is…”

“My grandmother loves red,” Minho clarifies. “As I do.”

You ignore his last comment and continue with your recommendations. You read his face, his nods and his frowns, and start to build the bouquet in your head. Finally, you show him the shop’s specialty, your wall of roses.

You keep roses of all colors and sizes. Pink and magenta and cream and dark red. They cover an entire wall of the shop, bright and blooming.

It was your mother’s idea. She dreamed of having an entire rose garden, but since she couldn’t, she made herself a wall instead.

“Hm,” Minho ponders. It almost seems like his eyes pass over each and every flower in front of him. After a few seconds, he turns to you. “Make something. I trust you.”

“You sure?” you ask.

“Always,” he nods. “Deliver it to the clubhouse tomorrow, I’ll pay then.”

You hesitate. “The clubhouse?”

“You know where it is, right?”

“Yes, but –”

He claps his hands. “Then it’s done.”

Before you can protest any further, he’s gone, and the shop is silent again. You stare at the door, hesitating between panic and anger.

Your father comes back to check on you. “Everything all right? What did he want?”

“He… ordered something.”

Your dad raises his eyebrows. “He did?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

He gives you a long look, but you just smile. You’re definitely not going to let your father take care of this – especially since you’ll have to deliver it. Well. You could call the teenager that usually takes care of that, but a part of you is really curious to go to that clubhouse and see what it looks like from the inside. Besides, you have a feeling Minho wouldn’t like it if you sent someone else to deliver his precious bouquet.

You sigh. What a pretentious prick.

You could make sure to make the ugliest flower bouquet anyone’s ever seen, but you really don’t see the point of hurting his grandmother’s feelings. For all you know she’s a sweet lady, and you’re not a monster.

The next day, you carefully put together the bouquet with the flowers you selected. It has a soft pink palette, sprinkled with white and lavender. You add delicate leaves and lacy white ribbon to hold it together.

The easy part is over.

It’s a warm and sunny day. You walk towards the Vices’ clubhouse, your chest tight and your cheeks red. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt and a long skirt. The hand that is carefully holding the bouquet is sweating so you change it regularly – maybe you should’ve taken a taxi and added it to the price. Too late now.

The Vices’ clubhouse looks like an ordinary building from the outside – you’d even dare to say it’s ugly. It adjoins a garage where you can see a few people working. Someone is washing their bike outside; another is sipping on a beer. You approach cautiously, feeling entirely and completely out of place.

“Excuse me?” you ask the first you reach.

It’s Chris, his scar bright white under the sun. He gives you a confused look, holding a sponge dripping with water and soap. He’s wearing a sleeveless top under his leather vest, sweat covering his skin, and you tell yourself he’d probably be less hot if he took off his cut, but apparently that’s not a thing the Vices do. You’ve never seen one of them without it.

“I’m supposed to deliver this,” you tell him, pointing to the bouquet.

He stands up, throwing his sponge in the bucket next to him. You slightly step back so you’re not splashed with water. Rude.

“Follow me,” he says, visibly annoyed to be interrupted.

You don’t care – in fact, it pleases you. You haven’t had the chance to bother him the other night. You openly stare as you follow him, because he might be a Vice, he’s far from being bad-looking and his arms are the stuff of dreams. In fact, most Vices are attractive – you wonder if it’s a part of their selection criteria. Not just bikers – sexy ones. You smirk to yourself.

He guides you inside the garage. A car is jacked high up, and you spy Changbin working from under it. He’s wearing one of those jumpsuits for mechanics, but he’s removed the top and tied at the hips, probably because his goddamn leather vest did not fit above it. He’s sweating too – and you notice he has a bruise around his neck and a bandage on his left cheek. He glares at you as you pass by him, and you can only look away.

Chris opens the door for you, and you step inside the main building. It’s spacious and comfortable – there’s a few tables, a foosball table, plenty of couches. The walls are dark wood, covered in signs and posters. Music plays at a reasonable volume. There’s a bar, and many doors which seemingly lead to other rooms. You look around you. You’re not sure what you expected. Neon lights, half-naked girls, people snorting coke?

This is… nice.

You shake away the thought.

“Where’s he?” Chris asks the guy behind the bar. The latter is cleaning glasses – and points to one of the doors, which reads Infirmary.

Chris does not waste any time and knocks on the door. A beautiful young woman you don’t know, with long red hair, opens the door. Behind her, you see a figure sitting on a hospital bed.

“Your flowers are here, boss,” Chris says. You hear the mocking tone in his voice, and you give him a glare. He ignores you, of course, and then leaves you standing there.

“Come in, Trouble,” Minho says. “I’m just wrapping up here.”

You exchange a look with the young woman, but she doesn’t say anything – she only closes the door behind you when you come in.

“Don’t just stand there, let me see.”

You circle the bed, almost feeling shy, until you’re almost facing Minho. He’s healthy enough to smile at you, but he’s definitely banged up. One of his lips is split, he has the hint of a black eye, and his sleeve is rolled up, letting you see a very big and very deep cut on his arm, which the woman is in the middle of stitching.

“Aw,” he says. “Is that worry I see in your eyes?”

You look back at him. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Just business.”

A part of you wants to insist, but it’s just curiosity, so you let it go. Minho has moved on anyway, eyeing the bouquet in your hands.

“Looks perfect,” he says. “You put a lot of care into it,” he adds with a smile.

You pinch your lips and you simply tell him the price.

“Of course, doll,” he tells you. “Once Cherry is done, I’m all yours.”

You roll your eyes but don’t answer anything. You wish you could just shove the bouquet in his hands and run away, but you’re definitely not leaving without his money.

Instead you stay there, letting out a long sigh.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my day is going?” Minho tells you, his face not showing in the slightest that he’s being stitched up. The young woman, Cherry, is focused on the wound, her fingers stained with dark blood.

“No,” you retort simply.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” he sighs. “It’s been absolute shit, to tell you the truth. Don’t you just hate it when people don’t listen?”

“Depends who’s talking.”

A smile forms on his face, and he’s about to answer when his body suddenly jolts. He winces in his pain, closing his eyes. Cherry has stopped moving.

“Almost done,” she says softly. Almost tenderly, it seems. You stare at her. Her doe eyes, her shining hair. She looks like a princess.

Minho keeps his eyes closed for another few seconds, and then slowly opens them. You wish you could smile at his pain. But you can’t.

It hasn’t even crossed your mind to do so.

Oddly, you feel something else entirely.

“Could please wait for me outside, doll?” he says in a calm voice, and you find yourself both nodding and obeying.

You lean against the wall although the couches look insanely comfortable, ignoring the curious looks from the guy at the bar. Why couldn’t you be happy about Minho’s pain? You hate the guy and everything he represents. But then again, you have a heart. Him? Still up for debate.

You think about getting out your phone to scroll to keep your mind occupied, but a minute later Minho is leaving the infirmary, a bandage around his arm. He smirks at you.

“Follow me.”

You hate how arrogant he is about it, but you stick close to him as he walks. You reach a door at the end of a small corridor – he opens it, and you realize it’s his office. Once again, it surprises you how modest it looks. No fancy decoration or even a sexy calendar. There are a few pictures lined up on the right wall, and the logo of the Vices is spray painted on the left. Minho circles the wide wooden desk and lets himself down on the rolling chair.

“Sit down, doll,” he tells you.

He takes out his keys and proceeds to unlock something under his desk – a safe, probably. It’s silent in the room, almost too much, and you realize you’re holding your breath. It feels strange to be here, like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t, like going backstage after you’ve only been watching from afar. You sit down silently, carefully setting the bouquet on the desk.

“Is she your girlfriend?” you ask.

“Who?” he asks.

“The nurse. Cherry.”

Minho snickers. “Oh, no. She’s my step sister.”

You nod. You don’t know anything about Minho’s family history. You assume he must be the previous President’s son to have inherited the position, but you don’t even know about that. Asking would make him think you’re interested, and you don’t want that, so you keep your mouth shut.

“Here,” he slams the safe door closed and hands you a pile of cash.

You raise an eyebrow. “I said it was fifty-six, not five hundred.”

“It’s not five hundred,” he retorts. “It’s fifty-six and a bonus. You walked all the way here, no? I’m a generous tipper.”

You squint your eyes at him, suspicious, but he just waits for you to take the money. After a few seconds you do, and you count the bills. As you do, your jaw unclenches, and you stare at him with wide eyes.

“That’s way too much.”

“Think of it as a gift.”

“Are you trying to bribe me or something? Isn’t it supposed to be other way around?”

He shrugs. “Fine. Don’t think of it as a gift. See it as an investment. Renovate the shop a little. Get more flowers. I don’t care.”

You sigh deeply – but you don’t want to argue. If he wants to give you his money, fine. You’ll take it. You gladly will.

“Fine,” you say, putting away the money in your bag.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do. Still, you do not move and neither does he. After a few seconds, he chuckles. “Is there something you want to say?”

You debate whether to say what’s on your mind, sliding your tongue across your teeth. He watches you in the meanwhile, looking both amused and profoundly tired.

“Do you like what you do?” you finally ask.

“Excuse me?”

“Blackmail people. Getting in fights. Selling drugs and guns.”

Minho pouts. “If I say yes, will you say I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He’s messing with you – you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. You really should just leave, or you’ll end up doing something you’ll regret. Seungmin’s voice is in your head, telling you to tread carefully. To keep them away from you. To protect yourself. But you’re here. Literally, in the belly of the beast.

Might as well try to do some damage.

“What you have to understand, Trouble, is that most of it is business. We don’t use the drugs and the guns, we sell them.”

“That’s still enabling.”

“Someone has to do it. At least the club does it properly and safely.”

You scoff, pointing at his bandaged arm. “You call that safely?”

“That was a little misunderstanding. It happens in any business.”

“I have a business too and when I mess up an order, people don’t carve my skin with a knife.”

“Who said I messed up?” He smiles. “Because I don’t.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

Minho blinks – for once, you feel like you’ve truly taken him by surprise. His eyes go wide, curved like a wave. You notice, just now, how beautiful they are.

“People keep saying I should be careful around you,” you explain. “That I could end up getting hurt.”

“Do you think I would?” Minho asks, his voice a little deeper.

You shrug. “You pulled a knife on me, the other night.”

“That was play,” he says with a smile – but it’s joyless. “I wouldn’t really hurt you.”

“What about those who did this to you?” you ask. “To your Vice? I saw him, he’s banged up too.”

“Oh, those fuckers are six feet under.”

Something tightens in your stomach. You feel cold. Minho smiles maniacally.

“But they asked for it. You don’t mess with the club without paying for it.”

It is true, then. The Vices are killers. And if you push them enough, you could contribute to their body count. The thought sends a shudder down your spine, even in spite of what Minho said. He wouldn’t hurt you. You want to believe him.

You don’t.

But you do.

“Are you scared?” he asks you. He places his elbows on the desk, his fingers holding his face. “I like it better when you’re angry. But I can work with scared.”

You stand up suddenly, turning to leave, muttering that you need to go – but Minho is fast. He’s on his feet in a second, grabbing your wrist roughly, pulling you to him. Your body hits his, and you can smell him. Cologne. Gasoline. Blood.

“They were right, you know,” Minho whispers. He details your face, holding you so tight it almost hurts. You want to look away, but you can’t – his stare nails you in his eyes. “You should’ve been careful.”

“I have to…”

He ignores you, and instead leans down. His lips brush against your cheek. “It’s too late now. You’ve awoken the wolf. And now he’s going to eat you whole.”

Your lips are trembling. “If you don’t let me go, I –”

“What, doll? You’re going to scream? Call the police? No one is coming to help you. You’ve dug your own grave.”

“Minho, please –”

Something cold passes in the room.

His grip tightens and he draws back to drill his eyes into yours. They are dark, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

You’re speechless. Minho laughs in disbelief.

“You think we’re first names basis, doll? Tsk. No, no, no. It’s President or Sir to you. Show some fucking respect.”

You’ll let him bleed you out before you call him either of those things, but you feel like you’re stepping on very thin ice and you’re panicking. Because he is right – no one will help you. No one can.

You take a breath. “Sir,” you say, the world cutting your lips like a razor blade. “Can I please leave?”

To your despair, Minho chuckles in delight. He slides his nose against your neck, near your ear, and inhales slowly. “That fucking smell of yours,” he whispers. “Roses. Sweet, sweet roses.”

His body is so close to yours. How he can be so cold and so warm at the same time, you have no idea. When he speaks, his breath makes your skin tingle. His mouth traces your jawline, and his teeth pick at your skin. “You know,” he breathes. “All of this would just be much easier if you let me fuck you senseless right here, right now.”

You can’t move.

You can’t speak.

“But what fun would that be, right, Trouble?” he withdraws to look at you. His other hand comes to trace the outline of your lips. “Let’s play a little more. I’ll keep imagining those sweet lips around my dick and you can think about it filling you up like I know you want to.”

He guides your hand towards his crotch, placing your fingers around his arousal. He’s only semi-hard, but you feel it. Your throat is dry, and you can barely find it in yourself to breathe.

“Let me hear a yes, sir, doll.”

You’re so dizzy you feel like you’re going to be sick. You unclench your painful jaw to let out a pathetic whimper. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He moves your hand, pats your hair, and places a kiss on your head. His grip relaxes slowly, and eventually, he lets you go.

You don’t move a single inch. You would be lying if you said that his little game is doing nothing to you – but you’d also never admit it. You can’t show any unnecessary weakness to him. You just need to get out of his grip, walk away, and then stay the fuck out of his way for the rest of your life. You don’t care anymore, you’ll bend your head, you’ll be polite.

You just don’t want to die.

“Since I know how much it cost you to call me that, I’ll let you go for today.” His eyes are black like a demon’s. “Listen to your friends, Trouble, and tread carefully. I like to play, but I also like to break the rules.”

You get home shortly after, and you violently take off all your clothes – they smell like the clubhouse, like him. You slip into bed naked, your body throbbing, your head about to burst. You grit your teeth, but all you can do is slip a few fingers in between your legs and think about Lee Minho.

“He said what?!”

It’s an extremely bad idea to tell anyone about your last conversation with Minho, but you had to get it out of your system. It’s haunting your every thought, your every step. You have no idea what to make of it.

So you told Seo-ah, Hyunjin’s girlfriend.

You don’t know each other that well, but you’ve had long conversation about sex before – in extremely intimate details – so you feel safe to talk about that with her. You invited her to your place for a few drinks before she gets Hyunjin from Rossi’s – you didn’t really want anyone to overhear your conversation. When you’re done retelling your exchange with the president of the Vices, Seo-ah stares at you, eyes wide.

“That’s… that’s…”

“Fucked up?”

“Hot.”

You shake your head. “Excuse me, what?”

She giggles nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, yeah, it’s fucked up. But it’s kind of hot, right? It’s like roleplay.”

“Except it’s not,” you retort. “He’s the actual leader of an actual biker club and could actually slit my throat open without an ounce of hesitation.”

“Doesn’t that make it more exciting?” she argues. “I mean, didn’t you tell me you like dirty talk?”

You hesitate. “I mean, yeah, but… Like, when it’s not real. That was something else entirely.”

“Okay. Here’s a question. Did it turn you on?”

You look at her, debating what to say. You could lie – but you don’t particularly want to. It’s not like the exchange got you excited to the point where you would’ve fucked him on the spot, but your legs were very wobbly all the way home. And it does occupy your thoughts. A lot.

“Think of it as an experience,” she says. “Don’t overthink it. The guy’s horny for you and he’s like, insanely hot. You’re going to have dirty, nasty, hot sex and you’re both gonna move on.”

You sigh.

“It’s just sex, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be anything else. You’re not agreeing to marry him.”

Your conversation stays on your mind. Could you actually have sex with Minho? Maybe you could. But could you get the fact that he’s the head of the Vices out of your mind? Would you respect yourself afterwards, after spending so much time hating them? Having sex with the club’s president doesn’t exactly rhyme with denunciation. You’d be a hypocrite to say a word against them afterwards.

No, you tell yourself. You’ll stick to your principles. Even if it means he’ll make your life hell for a while. You’re pretty sure he’s the type to lose interest after a while – you just have to make it there.

It feels like a very long way.

Your coffee tastes terrible, but you don’t care – you desperately need it. You suggested to Seungmin you get a cup before heading to work, and as you sit down in the coffee shop, he gives you a sad smile.

“I’m sorry about the shop, Y/N.”

“It’s fine, Min.”

“But it’s not, is it?”

His voice is so soft and yet so full of rage, the contrast is striking. You glance at him, feeling your own heart tighten in your chest. Could you tell your friend about what you’ve been doing? How you’ve been taunting them? How you’ve been playing like you have an inexistent upper hand?

It hit you this morning when you opened your eyes.

You are nothing.

And you’ve been so invested, recently, in trying to go after the Vices, you haven’t realized it’s been taking pieces of you.

And those you don’t have that many left.

“No,” you whisper. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

He has a smile tugging the corners of his lips, and you nudge him affectionately.

“Maybe I’m losing my fighting spirit,” you sigh, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Will it be a blue moon tonight?” he retorts. “But stranger things have happened.”

You chuckle softly. Seungmin always had this calm presence that allowed you to heal – you still remember those days after your mother passed. He hadn’t done or said anything special, but he had been there. Silent, familiar, reassuring you that not everything had fallen apart. It was a strange relationship between you two – never particularly close, and yet closer than most.

“They’re not what I thought,” you quietly admit to him.

“Hm?”

“The Vices. They’re… different.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to join them,” Seungmin jokes.

You roll your eyes. “I just mean they’re not as, like, mean as I imagined them to be. Not that they’re nice, but…”

You sigh.

Clearly, you have no idea what to think of them anymore, and it’s useless to try and articulate it to Seungmin. He gives you a curious look but doesn’t insist.

“You’ve been around them too much,” he finally states.

“You’re probably right. But isn’t it weird, though? Like, take Jisung. We’ve known him as long as we’ve known each other, and he’s one of them, right? I thought it was because he went insane or something –”

“Hasn’t he?”

“Well, maybe a little. But I mean, like, he’s still the same. Really, he still is.”

Seungmin takes the time to think about what you’ve said, twirling his cup of coffee in between his fingers.

“Maybe. But they’re still criminals, Y/N. They like to scare people and take advantage of them. That’s something I can look away from.”

You sigh again, sliding a hand through your hair. “You’re right. I’m just confused, I guess.”

You take a long sip of coffee before you smile at Seungmin. “You want to watch a movie tonight? It’s been a while since we did that.”

He agrees, and you make quick plans before you start heading to work.

You’re not going to let the Vices play with your head.

You’re not.

The next morning, you’re brushing your teeth when your phone pings.

Unknown Number Tonight 10 Clubhouse

Four words. They send a chill down your spine.

You Who is this??

Unknown Number Don’t play dumb, Trouble.

You How did you get this number??????

Unknown Number Be ready at 10 I have a surprise for you I’ll send someone to drive you.

You groan in frustration, slamming your phone on your bathroom counter. Who the hell does he think he is? Maybe you have plans. Maybe you don’t want to see his face. The clubhouse. What makes him think you’d want to go back there?

You grab your phone again and start sending an avalanche of texts. I’m busy. Leave me alone. Delete my number. What do you mean a surprise??? What are you planning?? Why would I come? HEY! Answer me. Hey assface. EXPLAIN. I HATE YOU.

Of course, he no longer answers. Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head and your stomach curls into a tight knot. What are you supposed to do? Actually go? A part of you is definitely curious, and unfortunately, your curiosity often borderlines on the morbid and is thus extremely dangerous. But you could also make sure you’re not anywhere near home at ten and ghost him. I’ll send someone, he said. Pretentious fucker.

The day passes excruciatingly slowly, and you cannot make up your mind about what to do. Minho’s words haunt you at every step, and at times, it’s like you can still feel his breath against your skin. You get home around seven, eat a little bit, and then open your closet. Not going would be too easy, right? Fine. You’ll go.

You won’t dress up for him, though, so you grab oversized ripped jeans and an old sweater. You leave your hair down and don’t touch your makeup. You definitely do not put any effort in your underwear. Despite your conversation with Seo-ah, you’re set on not giving Minho what he wants.

If he was anyone else, you would definitely fuck him. You’d let him manhandle you a little, whisper the nastiest things in your ear, and relieve all the pressure that has been building inside of you the past few weeks. But Minho is a Vice. Worse – he’s their president. He’s made of cruelty and arrogance, a jerk with a superiority complex, and if you let him fuck you, you’d just be proving him right. You wouldn’t have any self-respect for yourself.

You repeat the words like a mantra. Maybe you’ll end up believing them.

The anticipation is making you anxious, so you allow yourself a couple of hits. You don’t smoke a lot, but just enough for your muscles to relax and for your mind to be ready for battle.

You step outside a little bit before ten, looking around you shamefully, as if to make sure nobody sees you. You almost pull your hoodie above your head to hide your face, but when you start seriously considering it, you hear a dreadful noise that sends a shiver down your spine.

The engine of a bike.

Of course. How dumb are you? How stupid were you to think Lee Minho, president of the Vices Motorcycle Club, would actually send a car to drive you to his clubhouse?

As the light of the bike approaches you, you turn on your heels. You still have time to run inside and pretend you’re not there – but the bike approaches too quickly and breaks in front of you.

The person sitting on it reaches behind him and hands you a helmet without a word. It’s dark, so he’s not wearing his visor, and he’s staring at you with his usual slightly angry face.

“Sit,” Changbin says when you don’t move.

“No,” you manage to utter, shaking your head.

He closes his eyes and takes a sharp inhale. “Don’t test my patience. Sit down.”

You glare at him, fuming, but you know he’s right. You really shouldn’t test his patience, so you take the helmet and place it on your head. As you pass your leg around the bike, you feel your body shaking.

“Get a hold of something,” he says as he makes the engine roar.

You don’t have time to decide what because he accelerates and you feel your body sway – so you grab the first thing you can, which is him. He doesn’t protest or even tense, so you hold on tighter as his bike gains speed. His leather vest is cold against you, but he’s wearing a hoodie underneath and his body emanates warmth. You try not to lean against him too much, but the movements of the bike stop you from keeping your distance. Soon you are clenching his clothes and regretting all your life decisions.

He drives both carefully and extremely fast. Your heart is pounding inside your chest and when he stops at a red light, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You sigh, and you feel his head lean towards you.

“Are you alright?”

You can only nod.

“Hold tight.”

The engine is loud and hot under your bodies. The sound vibrates inside you, but you don’t hate the way the wind slides on your face. The lights blind you, and Changbin is a welcome stability in front of you. Your blood is boiling but you can’t bring yourself to be angry – the mix of adrenaline and weed makes you dizzy.

Damn you and everything you are, Lee Minho.

You get to the clubhouse a couple of minutes later. It looks nothing like the other day. Fairy lights illuminate the parking lot, and there’s a lot of people there. Some stand, others are settled in fold-out chairs, and a huge white background has been put up in front of the garage doors. People are drinking, eating, and laughing. The atmosphere is calm and light.

You disembark from the bike, leaning against Changbin’s shoulders for support, and stare with wide eyes at the set-up.

“What’s going on?” you ask, both to yourself and him.

He removes his helmet and ruffles his hair. “It’s movie night. Didn’t he tell you?”

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t answer, and instead keep looking around. Someone is cooking barbecue, and the smell makes your stomach rumble. You can’t believe what you’re seeing – and you’re so fascinated you don’t even pick up on Changbin staring at you with a smirk on his face.

This is nothing like you expected a Vices party to be like. There are even children around, chasing each other and eating candy. You stand there, a little confused, when someone puts an arm around your shoulders. You recognize the smell instantly.

“Good of you to show up, Trouble,” Minho sneers in your ear. “I was wondering if you would.”

You can’t even find an insult to spit at him.

He smirks. “Thanks for getting her here, Vice.”

Changbin only shrugs and walks away.

“You want a drink, Trouble? Movie’s about to start.”

He guides you towards a spot near the screen – someone’s put mattresses on the ground, so you sit there. Minho hands you a beer and popcorn and settles a blanket on your knees. He sits down next to you, putting his arm back around your shoulders.

“What is it, hm? Nothing to say?” he eventually mutters in your ear. “Were you expecting something else?”

You glance at him. “Well. Yeah. You’re a biker gang, I didn’t expect popcorn and blankets. Do you also host birthday parties for kids?”

He laughs. “Sometimes. We have a few sides to ourselves, Trouble. People have families. If you want to see a real party, I’ll invite you to one. But I can’t promise you’ll walk from it with your sanity intact.”

“It’s never been intact, Minho.”

The words escape your mouth before you can hold them back, and you’re scared, for a second, he’ll snap like last time. But he just chuckles and brings you closer to him. The breeze is cold, and he’s warm, so you let him.

“I hope you like horror movies,” he whispers, and his voice sends shivers down your body.

It’s an old horror movie, a cult classic that isn’t at all scary but always fun to watch. You find yourself forgetting where you are, who you are with – you drink your beer and eat the snacks, and you lean against Minho at times. He just watches with you, laughs with you, and his fingers, sometimes, stroke your arm.

You forget the cuts, the bikes, everything. You’re just having a good time.

Once the movie is over, you step inside to go to the bathroom – on your way out, you open the wrong door and end up inside the garage. It smells like gasoline and leather, as one would expect. It’s clean and tidy. There’s a motorcycle, seemingly in repair, next to you. You look at it, intrigued. You’d never seen the appeal of bikes and having ridden one has not particularly changed your mind – but even you, who has no knowledge of mechanics or even an appreciation of vehicles of any kind, have to admit this particular one looks good.

It looks vintage, although it might not be, and you walk around it with curiosity. Although it’s clearly missing a few parts, you can see it’s well taken care of.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You jump, turning to see Changbin behind you. He’s just stepped inside the garage – either he followed you or just found you there.

“Sorry,” you say. “I opened the wrong door.”

“You should go back outside.”

“Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the bike. Your instinct is telling you it is, perhaps because of the frequent glances he gives it.

Changbin does not answer – he just squints his eyes at you suspiciously. You roll your eyes.

“I’m just curious. I’m not going to steal it.”

It takes a few more seconds before he answers. “It was my dad’s. He was driving it when he died.”

You look back at the bike with a shiver. “And you’re repairing it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Well… it’s the bike that killed your dad.”

Changbin scoffs in derision. “The bike didn’t kill him. It’s the asshole with the pick-up truck who thought it’d be funny to see what would happen if he drove it off the road.”

You stare at Changbin, heart sinking. He said it so directly, his voice stable, that he almost seems heartless. But it also clearly isn’t.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say.

Changbin takes a step towards you, inspecting you. You recall the feel of him against you, earlier. It didn’t feel bad. It really didn’t.

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, don’t,” he tells you, his voice low and measured. “I already put the motherfucker in a hospital bed. He’s never going to drive again. Actually, he’s not going to do much with the rest of his life.”

His words send shivers down your spine, and you can’t look away. Changbin is close to you. You want to take a step back, but the bike is right there, and you’re pretty sure he would mind if you touched it.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” he suddenly asks. “From what I gathered before, you hate us.”

“I… I just…”

“Minho’s president, so he does what he wants,” Changbin states. “But I’m Vice, so it’s my job to look out for the club. And if you’re going to be a problem, I need to do something about it.”

You try to gulp, but your throat is dry. “I don’t –”

“Am I going to have to deal with you?” Changbin asks, leaning towards you. His dark eyes drill into yours. His face gives nothing, and your heart is beating hard in your chest. You have no idea if you are terrified or aroused.

“I –”

“There you are.”

The new voice startles you, and you turn your head to see Minho standing next to the door. If he has just come in or if he’s been standing there for a few minutes, you have no idea. You blink, your breath hitching in your throat. You half expect Minho to get angry at Changbin like he has with Jisung the other night, but he just smirks at you.

“Your surprise is ready.”

You glance at Changbin again, who has only slightly stepped back. He’s still staring at you, eyebrow arched. There’s a tattoo on his hand, tracing the curve of skin between his index and his thumb. It reads I See You.

You wish you could just disappear into the floor, but instead you follow Minho back outside. He seems completely unbothered at the position in which he found you and Changbin, taking your hand and leading you towards the back of the clubhouse, where there’s only a wide, empty field. For a second, you are scared he’s taking you there to murder you, but you see a few silhouettes further away.

You hear a laugh pierce the quiet night – Felix’s.

“Kid’s always way too excited for this kind of shit,” Minho laughs. “I swear he’s not right in the head.”

He gives you a glance.

“But then again, none of us are, right?”

You shake your head. “What’s going on?”

Minho stops, his hand leaving yours – but he just throws his arm around your waist to hold you close. You’re still high, definitely a little drunk, and you’ve strangely gotten used to his touch and proximity.

“We normally keep this for special occasions. But since it’s a beautiful night and you’re here, I thought, why not indulge the Prospect a little?”

“What do you…”

You stop when you hear a loud popping noise, and your mind goes blank when you see an actual firework blow up in the night sky.

A few follow and they’re neither big nor beautiful, but it’s still something. You stare in wide eyes, your smile inevitable and instant. You love fireworks. And those are just for you.

Felix’s laugh is almost louder than the sound of the fireworks going off, and you can smell the burn, and you laugh against Minho, your head falling against his shoulder. Felix and a few others – you’re pretty sure Jisung is over there, too, and you could swear you hear Jeongin’s voice – play for a while before the sky goes back to black again.

“Did you like your surprise?” Minho asks after a while.

You part your lips to answer, but then you stop. You have a more urgent question to ask. You step aside and turn to look at him. His silver hair is ruffled, his eyes deep and direct. You let out a sigh.

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“Make you smile,” he answers frankly without a hint of hesitation.

“Why?” you ask, frowning. “I’m nobody.”

He lets out a short sigh. “It’s not that deep, Trouble. Maybe I’m just trying to get in your pants.”

“If it was that, you wouldn’t have said ‘maybe’.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and you know you have a point. Despite yourself, your lips curve in a smile.

“Seriously, Minho, though, why are you doing this? It’s not that I have anything you want. I don’t have money, or any sort of power over anything, I just… I just sell flowers.”

“You don’t have something I want,” he agrees. “You are what I want.”

You gape at him, unsure of what to say. All you want is to ask why. The question is on the edge of your lips, but it would feel like revealing a part of yourself to him you’re not sure you want to share. You’re pretty sure he’s aware of it, anyway. The guy knows everything. You just prefer to show another side of you. The one that talks back, that is spiteful, that is full of anger, of fire to burn. A side people have only dismissed or tried to diminish.

But Minho, he likes it.

“What makes you think a movie and a few lights in the sky are going to seduce me?” you tell him, reaching for all the smugness you have.

“Hm,” he pouts. “Fair point. I thought the manhandling and dirty talk would do the trick the other day, but turns out you’re not as easy as you seem.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, biting down a curse. “So you said to yourself, hm, I’m going to try and be a nice guy, see what she thinks?”

“Did it work?”

“You’re such a fucking dick.”

“Oh. I see we’re back to the insults,” he chuckles. “I gotta say I like that better.”

“Of course you do.”

He takes a step towards you. Even in the darkness, you can see how eyes shine. He’s like a predator, lurking in the woods, ready to jump at your throat. Except you’re not going to be a defenseless prey – you’ll play with him too.

“I dare you to say you weren’t soaking wet leaving my office the other day.”

You do not waver. “Says the guy who was rock hard at the single thought of me.”

It’s your turn to take a step towards him. You lift your chin, your eyes wandering around his face. The air smells like popcorn and ashes.

“Did you jerk yourself off afterwards?” you tell him in a whisper. “Did you think about bending me over your desk and fucking me?”

He closes his eyes like he’s concentrating hard on something. It makes you chuckle.

“What did you want me to call you, again? Sir?”

He’s so quick you don’t have time to move – he roughly grabs your chin between his fingers, immobilizing you. His eyes have gotten darker. “Don’t think for one second I’m not enjoying this,” he says in a low voice. “You can pretend all you want, Trouble, but I know that pussy is going to be mine to ravage soon.”

You feel something tangle inside of you – and you smile. “Are you going to keep talking or are you going to do something about it? This is getting old.”

He brings your face closer to his, so close your lips are brushing. His breath mingles with yours and it makes you feel dizzy. “Sorry, doll. I fucking love foreplay.”

You wriggle a little to get out of his grip, but he holds on tight.

“You talk a lot of smack but I know what will make you shut up,” he breathes in your mouth. “How about I fuck you senseless right here, in the middle of this field, where everyone can hear you scream my name? Or, let’s see… Since you mentioned the desk, I’m going to consider it. I should also mention I’ve thought about eating you out in the middle of your shop.” He tilts your head to the side, letting his breath tickle the thin skin of your neck. “I know exactly what I’m going to do to you,” he whispers, his tongue tracing a line alongside your neck, stopping at your earlobe. “And I’m going to take my sweet time doing it.”

You feel your legs wobble, and suddenly you realize what is happening and you give him a hard shove. He stumbles backwards, a proud smile on his lips.

You take a second to breathe out, but your mind has gone completely blank. You’re angry and you’re horny – which is not a good combination.

“Take me home,” you manage to articulate.

“Are you –”

“Take me home,” you hiss.

He looks at you for a second, and then two. Your face is flushed and you’re panting, but you don’t care. You’re not letting this happen. You’re not letting him win. You’re not betraying your principles, you’re not betraying Seugnmin, you’re not betraying yourself.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

You can sense he’s annoyed, but you don’t blame him. You’re pissed and frustrated too. You don’t let him touch you again and he doesn’t try – instead, he yells Felix’s name. The latter, who had still been playing with the fireworks across the field, arrives running. His long hair is tied behind his head today.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Will you please call a taxi for the lady and pay it in advance? Make sure she gets home.” Minho says in his best neutral voice, although you feel the annoyed undertone.

Felix seems to sense it too because he nods fervently. “Right away,” he adds, but Minho has walked away before he could hear the end.

Felix gives you a smile, leading you to the front of the clubhouse. There’s almost nobody there anymore, just a few people. As you wait for the taxi with Felix, he plays with his lighter, trying to make conversation, but you’re just not in the mood. It’s not his fault, you know that, but at this instant you can’t stand the sight of leather.

Minho’s words haunt you. His breath against yours.

His skin.

His eyes.

Something clicks inside of you.

Or rather, something breaks.

Fuck it, you think.

Fuck your principles.

There is clearly chemistry between you.

Seo-ah’s voice echoes in your head.

It’s just sex.

“Cancel the taxi,” you tell Felix, turning on your heels.

He just looks at you go, and you stroll through the parking lot, and then the clubhouse, and although you hear someone trying to stop you, you don’t. You walk straight to Minho’s office, open the door and step inside.

He’s sitting at his desk, eyes closed, and sighs when he sees you. “What?”

He’s pissed at you, and it’s the last straw.

You close the door behind you, and then go around his desk. Something flashes in his eyes, but he lets you come. You clash against him, straddling his body, your lips collapsing on his. The contact steals your breath, because his lips are soft, and you decide to let yourself unravel.

He immediately responds, hungrily kissing you back, like it’s something he’s missed for too long. He stands up, carrying your body with his, and sits you down on his desk. His hands are everywhere, his arms holding you up, and you kiss him back feverishly, feeling as though you are entirely made of fire.

He has a hand sprawled behind your head, and suddenly his fingers get a grip around your hair, and he pulls your head backwards. You hiss at the faint pain and the sudden absence of his lips on yours. You grab the edges of the desk to balance yourself.

He is smiling like a madman.

“Couldn’t resist it, huh, doll?”

“Shut up,” you snarl.

“I don’t think so,” he slurs. “Not my style.”

You reach for his lips, but he pulls on your hair again, and you moan.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes lingering on you. “And all mine.”

“Minho…”

He breathes in sharply, pulling on your hair. You hiss.

“What did I say about calling me that?”

You squint your eyes. “I don’t fucking care what you said.”

He chuckles, leaning to kiss your neck. It sends shivers throughout your whole body, and your hands reach for him, to touch him, to touch him anywhere. His teeth scratch your skin, his tongue drawing masterpieces. When he comes back to your lips, he just grazes them with his teeth.

“Such a foul mouth on such a gorgeous face,” he sighs. “You smell heavenly, doll, have I ever told you that? I can’t wait to get a taste of you…”

You want to answer, but his teeth sink into your lips, drawing a moan from you. You shudder, your fingers sinking into his back, your nails scratching the fabric of his leather cut.

“Careful with that,” he says, as he moves to your ear, his breath warm against it.

You chuckle. “I would have imagined you wouldn’t mind a scratch or two.”

He sucks in your earlobe, and you let out another moan, rubbing your hips against his. You can feel his arousal against you, your own making you go crazy, and the fact that you are both so horny just makes it worse.

He leans back to look at you. “It’s a precious possession. Every self respecting Vice takes care of his cut. Are you going to make trouble even now?”

You smirk, your nails digging deeper into the leather - now you are sure to leave a mark, and the thought delights you. “Fuck yes.”

You take advantage of the fact that he’s distracted to grab his neck and pull him towards you, devouring his lips. You’re hungry for them, your teeth biting into them, and Minho grunts, his hands going down your body, feeling its every curve. He removes your sweater and your t-shirt, tracing the outline of your bra. Your hands keep reaching for him, because you want to remove his clothes too, but he grows annoyed. He roughly guides your arms behind your back, pinning them there.

“Don’t make me tie you up,” he growls.

You breathe heavily as he unclasps your bra, then throws it somewhere in the room, his fingers immediately going back to your breasts, feeling them in his hand.

“Hmm,” he whispers. “Pretty.”

He lowers his head, his tongue circling your nipples, teasing them. It’s your turn to grab his silver hair between your fingers, closing your eyes to briefly enjoy the sensation.

With his hand sprawled on your chest, he lays you down on the desk. His fingers expertly undo the button of your jeans and soon you’re naked in front of him. He slides a hand over you, from your neck down to between your legs. You keep looking at him as he discovers your body.

That’s when he sees the tattoo. It’s not very big, but it’s there, just below your hips, on the right side. The simplest rose, with sharp thorns. He briefly grazes the ink with his fingertips, his mouth open, his tongue resting against his bottom lip. You take in the sight, and you try to be patient although you are aching for his touch.

“We’re going to talk about this later,” he says.

Finally he lets out a deep breath, and you let out a whimper as he comes into contact with your wetness.

“I knew it,” he says. “Fucking soaked for me.”

You want to say something but his hand cups you and you inhale sharply. “Fuck.”

“All swollen and waiting,” he says, slapping it gently.

Your body trembles.

“Let’s see how ready you are.”

He inserts two fingers inside of you and groans. You are slowly but surely losing your mind.

“A little tight. But don’t worry, doll,” he breathes as he adds another finger. “I’m going to stretch you good.”

You don’t care what he says – you rise from your position and kiss him. Your whisper is hoarse. “I hope you fucking ruin me.”

You know he’d keep fingering you, but you’re impatient you push him off of you, shoving him against the wall behind his desk. Your hands grip his leather cut to remove it and you have to let out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, eyebrow raised. He looks delightful with his hair all messed up and his lips already red and raw from your kisses.

“You always have this fucking thing on,” you say mischievously. “So much I wondered if you kept it during sex.”

His smile is one the biggest you’ve ever seen. “I can leave it on if you want.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

You claim his lips again, removing his clothing in a hurry to reveal his chest. You let your hands travel over it, your mouth curved in a smile against his kisses. “Pretty,” you tell him with a hint of arrogance, referring to his earlier comment.

“Fucking brat,” he laughs.

His jeans and boxers are next, and he’s sincerely beautiful. You look at him, cheeks red, your body flaming with desire, and you slowly wrap your hand around his length. He pants, twitching against your touch. He’s hard and ready, but you go slow.

“Remind me again of what you said the other day,” you tell him softly.

“Hm? I say a lot of things.”

“Something about my lips… and about your dick…”

He smirks. You love the way his scar moves when he does. “Seems like you remember it well enough.”

“Tell me anyway,” you whisper in his ear.

His whole body tenses. “Put those pretty lips around my dick, doll.”

You smile and you go on your knees before you look back up at him.

He strokes your hair tenderly. “Now that’s quite a sight. Take it, doll. Show me what else that mouth of yours can do.”

You do. Your tongue circles him before you bring him into the warmth of your mouth. He breathes deeply as you bob your head in slow motions, taking him deeper each time until you gag. His grip on your hair tightens, but you step back. You take him in your hand, slapping him against your tongue.

“How am I doing, then?” you ask him mischievously.

“Not too bad, doll,” he smirks. “But I know you can do better.”

You chuckle despite yourself and take him again. As you accelerate your movement, his hips start to buckle, and soon he is fucking your mouth. He goes deep and fast, and you have to gasp for air – but he slaps himself against your cheek and goes back in the second you catch your breath.

You close your eyes to focus on your breathing, but his other hand grabs your chin.

“You open your eyes and you look at me,” he growls, and you obey. He towers above you, his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes dark and wild. You can’t help it – he looks so sexy, your fingers slip between your legs and you release a little pressure there.

Minho laughs maniacally. “So fucking horny for me. Is your little pussy in need of attention, doll?”

You nod, so he removes himself from your mouth and pulls you to your feet. He wraps his hand around your throat and spins you around so you’re pinned against the wall, facing him.

“I’m surprised. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You glare at him. “I have no interest in being good.”

“Then should I treat you like a bad one?”

“Sounds better to me.”

He gives a slap between your legs, and you jolt.

“I don’t care what you want,” Minho sneers, circling his fingers on a particularly sensitive spot. His hand squeezes your throat a little. “I’m going to treat you like a fucking queen.”

It’s his turn to go on his knees, and you bask in the sight as he buries his face between your legs. At first, he just breathes against you, kissing the inside of your thighs. He takes the time to lick your tattoo, kissing it softly, and then his mouth comes into contact with you. You let out a loud gasp.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.”

He plays with you, putting pressure just to let it go as you tense, moving his tongue in all the right ways – and then in all the wrong ways. You writhe against him, pulling his hair, cursing him, but it just makes him laugh. His tongue is heavy and controlled, and soon you can’t take it anymore. You’re sensitive and on edge, so you pull on his hair so hard he hisses.

“Stop doing that,” he sneers.

You glare at him. “Make me.”

He’s back on his feet in an instant, kissing you hard, and you taste yourself on his lips. He grabs both of your arms and pins them behind your back like before, spinning you and trapping you. Your cheek is against the wall, his body against yours. He smells so good it’s intoxicating.

“So impatient,” he says. “I told you I liked foreplay.” He delicately takes a strand of your hair and pushes it out of your face. “But since you’re so desperate to have my dick inside you, I’ll oblige.”

You moan as he enters you – slowly at first, and then all at once. He still holds you by the arms, so you can’t really move. You can only breathe out as he settles inside you.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you laugh. “

“Fucking divine,” he snarls. “Let me hear you, Trouble.”

He starts to fuck you feverishly, pushing his hips against your ass. He’s relentless, not giving you a second to breathe. You moan, your eyes shut tight, and an orgasm catches you off guard. He lets go of your arms as your legs shake, gripping your hips so hard you’re sure it’ll leave a mark – but you’re too much on adrenaline to care.

“You’re making such a mess over my dick, doll,” he groans, slowing down his thrusts as you recuperate from your orgasm.

Your legs are barely holding you up, and your focus is blurry, but you smile at him.

“Why are you moving so slow?” you tease him. “Afraid you’ll blow too early?”

He grips you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, and you hiss in pain. “Cute,” he says. “But I’m not nearly done with you.”

He starts moving faster, but he’s still taking his time, making sure he goes all the way inside of you before he leans back. You close your eyes, hazy on the feeling. His fingers caress you, and you let out a rasp curse – so he shoves them in your mouth, holding your mouth open as he fucks you.

As he accelerates, you moan, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to lick his fingers. He groans, shaking his head, and then puts his hand back around your throat. You nod, as if to tell him he can squeeze tighter - and he does. The lack of air makes your head spin, but it’s a heavenly feeling.

When he releases you, you gasp. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck.”

“Tell me about it, doll. Let me hear that sweet voice.”

“You’re fucking me so good. I love the feeling of you deep inside me.”

He grabs the back of your neck and moves you around, shoving you against the desk. You’re still bent over, and he’s still inside you, but the new angle allows him to go deeper, and you gasp at the feeling of it.

“Holy fuck, don’t stop.”

“Clench for me, doll. Come again. I know you will. Make me feel it.”

You can’t even hold it - you come again, your body on fire, and Minho quickly follows. He shoves deeper and empties himself inside of you. His grunts are music to your ears, and you revel in the sound. Once he stops moving, you are both panting, sweaty and sensitive, but relaxed.

Thoroughly and efficiently fucked out.

He pulls out a few seconds later, dripping down your legs, and you slowly unfold your body. It’s already aching, and you know it’ll be sore tomorrow, but you don’t care. This is out of your system, and you’ll be able to move on with your life.

Minho will forget about you, and you’ll barely think about him.

As it should be.

He smirks at you, pulling you in for a last kiss. The room smells of sweat and sex and Minho tastes like you.

“See, Trouble? Wasn’t so bad, fucking me.”

“That’s not how I would describe it,” you tell him, grabbing your t-shirt and hoodie to put them back on. He starts to dress, too.

“How, then?”

“Fucking divine.”

Minho barks out a laugh, staring at you as you slip on your jeans and shove your bra in your bag. You’re about to do the same with your underwear, but he grabs your wrist.

“Oh, no, doll. I’m keeping that.”

You don’t really care, so you simply shrug. He delicately folds the panties and puts them in his desk drawer.

“How sweet,” you taunt him. “How many of those do you have in there?”

“With yours, one.”

You pout at his sudden honesty and lack of arrogance, and he chuckles. “Don’t read too much into it. I’m not an old lady kind of guy.”

You sneer. “I wasn’t going to.”

Once you’re both dressed, he nods at the door. “Shall I drive you home, then?”

“If his majesty isn’t too busy.”

“I need to get home anyway.”

You give him a glance as you start walking to the parking lot – the clubhouse is empty.

“You don’t… live here?”

He shakes his head. “I have a room here, but I prefer to sleep at home if I can. Cozier.”

“So you have a house or something?”

“With a few of the guys, yeah.”

There it is again – your fucking curiosity. You try hard to swallow it, but it’s out of your control tonight, and clearly it shows on your face, because Minho chuckles.

“I’ll show it to you if you want, doll. My bed is very squeaky, but the sound is endearing. I’d love for you to hear it from up close.”

You let out a long sigh, but there’s a smile on your face.

Why the fuck not.

There it is. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first part of this story. Please let me know if you did through a comment or a reblog, it would mean a lot! Take care and see you soon for part two. ♡

#lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #skz smut #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut

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pinkandpurple360 · 5 months

Note

Was watching Oops and it finally hit me when Blitz called Fizz out on being a “spoiled attention whore” who gets everything he wants without effort and … Blitz is kinda right? 🤔 Like not to say Fizz didn’t work hard and had to put up with Mammon, but Fizz is basically now living it up on top, with his sugar daddy there to give him everything he needs, only has to interact with Mammon once a year, and he really doesn’t do anything to address the “purse dog” accusations. And then the way Fizz responds it by looking at the leash Ozz gave him which I guess is supposed to be heartwarming, but to me plays more like the literal pet imagery …🤢 (I don’t think Fizz is literally Ozzie’s pet but I wonder how Fizz feels about it. It probably won’t be explored)

Pampered* is what he said and yes I see why he’d think that? Though he doesn’t have the full story on that front and I’m sure he doesn’t fully believe it because he does think he ruined fizz’s life. Then again even as a kid he always got the nicer clothes and the better attention.

But yeah…the other 364 days of the year fizz says “my life has been pretty great” so him being abused ?? Contradicts that. Unless he’s being dishonest and secretive. And his critic says “all you do is work at that (redacted) sleaze joint” “you aren’t even a clown anymore” and clown and jester are used interchangeably. This hurts him as if it’s true. He’s quick to believe what others say.

Viv said he was being fake at the show and that he prefers love to lust, but is also liking tweets saying he loves it at Ozzies..??? I cant follow. And how is fizz being overly sexual and preyed on by creepy fans Mammons fault when it’s at Ozzies where all of this happens? Asmodeus doesn’t like when Fizz is sexualised and when fans ogle at him so…why does he pay fizz to do it in “the house of Asmodeus” even when fizz is branded to all ages.

Up until now the fizzbot said “shipped from big Ozzies factory” fizz says “designed by the big man himself” and Asmodeus talks about the fact he doesn’t like designing these things “for him” so I just can’t follow on who’s responsible.

I’m so confused by this narrative. It would make so much more sense if Ozzie said he regrets having a part to play rather than saying it’s all mammons fault cause he’s shitty.

Oh the leash imagery and later the fact Striker says the term ‘purse dog’, when the quivies are representative of chihuahua, is 100% on purpose. What are they doing with it? I don’t know.

Even calling Fizz a pillow princess ties into it. There’s references to ropes and handcuffs multiple times and I guess im supposed to see that as a kink joke maybe? Or literally? I’m not sure. Kinda like when Blitz is cuffed and collared in truth seekers. Mam puts cuffs on him too but those aren’t the soft fluffy kind. Idk the imagery and what I’m supposed to conclude from it is iffy, but there’s definitely a clear pattern.

Fizz’s profile on Ozzies phone, the fluffy cuffs and the imp—offensive animal nickname, whether I’m supposed to see it as cute or as something a bit symbolically darker? I dont know. When it comes to sexuality in this hellaverse anything goes. Even the imagery of Blitz and Fizz in a cage talking about Asmodeus and Stolas is interesting imagery to say the least. Striker is at least somewhat right but then blitz calls him a reverse racist or something …

What is this shows commentary on class ???? aaaaaaa

Unless Viv doesn’t…know what a pillow princess actually is, and thinks it just sounds pretty cause it has princess in it. that’s a possibility. She basically called him a selfish lover? Like Blitz to Verosika?

Fizz also makes animal noises like “meow” and “ribbit” which is basically an imp slur “fire toad” that was not played for laughs. It’s played like it’s an in universe offensive term. Ozzie doesn’t respect imps, just fizz. He calls moxie “a limp dick imp” and blitz a “feisty imp” and threatens to harm his employees who did nothing but look surprised at them both.

And the fact Fizz hurts several imps succubi and other hellborn in his tirade shows how much he has lost touch with people of his own class. Then being caught up in that fight noise gave him agency back, he was an equal teaming up with Blitzø and fighting his own fight. He fucking knocked out Striker, that’s insane change from “i just wanna go home”

As for right now I’m doubtful they’ll address issues with Ozzie because the ship is marketable and popular. They seemed to have transferred strikers commentary on royals from Asmodeus to mammon. Insisting that Asmodeus and stolas are “the good nice monarchs who do nothing wrong ever” but, who knows.

I feel like Fizz only gets to take a break when he’s with Oz, “money can’t buy happiness but it can rent you paradise” feels like this is a hint towards fizz and Ozzies tender but tumultuous, secret relationship. Because he’s been so mistreated before, he’s fine with submitting to some pampering and infantilisation but can’t fully trust it, he doesn’t fully like it, he has to lie, minimise situations, overstate his capabilities, and even beg, for some agency back. Because he’s vulnerable as a disabled imp with fame. Oz would rather Fizz not be famous anymore so people leave him alone, so he can have fizz to himself, even though it’s important to fizz. So he’s conflicted. And very happy when he quits performing. He’s definitely not the one with the agency around mammon or around Asmodeus, and his status as an imp, feeling inferior, and them as kings of sin, whom he feels unworthy of, is exactly why. When he says he doesn’t care what mammon thinks anymore….he turns back to Asmodeus for a thumbs up of approval. And relaxes when he gets it.

#helluva boss critical #fizzarozzie crit

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youn9racha · 2 years

Text

The Black Dress

TW// FLASHING/FLICKERING LIGHTS

pairing: bf!han x gf!afab reader

genre: smut

synopsis: your boyfriend's birthday was coming up, and you, typically buying him gifts, lost track of time and forgot to get something. so you had to conjure up something to compensate, and you know just the thing...

warning: rushed smut rip, lowkey pwp, mentions of cumslut, breeding kink/cum play if only you squint, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), implied dumbification and corruption kink, ruined make-up (i think that's corruption as well but it deserves it separate warning), lingerie kink (?), dom!han, sub!reader, mentions of self-conscious reader (no body type mentioned though), degradation, slight spanking, mentions of multiple of orgasm, basically hannie doesn't hold back, open-ended aftercare.

words: 3.3k

a/n: so this is my contribution for hannie's birthday... happy birthday han !!! i made this fic in under four hours so this isn't my best, but its something 😞🙏 well regardless, hope my birthday boy has a wonderful birthday

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

You were screwed.

You were convinced that you were the worst girlfriend in this entire world. Your ever so lovely, adorable, funny, god’s greatest gift of a boyfriend, Jisung’s, birthday was in a few days, and you haven’t had anything prepared. You cussed yourself out when you looked at the date, taunting you and reminding you how close his birthday is, and you haven’t thought of anything to give to him on his birthday. While Jisung wasn’t necessarily the materialistic kind, you still felt bad as he almost always gives you a birthday present on your birthday, and you would do the same.

When you get him a gift, he almost gives you the humblest response;

“Oh, baby, you shouldn’t have!”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything…”

“What would I do without you?”

Now the chances of you hearing these sweet words were slim and you can’t help but grimace at the fact that you probably won’t get him anything. Until you had this odd idea that you thought had been buried deep in your brain to no return, but it resurfaced once again.

Yes, you and Jisung have sex, as most sexually active couples would do, but often your sex was within the borders of vanilla and quickies. The most extreme you two had done was having sex at the bathroom—in Jisung’s bathroom at the dorms, where his roommates Chan, Hyunjin, and/or Changbin could walk in, but even then, none of them were home at that time. There wasn’t anything wrong, of course, having Jisung’s cock inside was enough for you to enjoy your time with him. However, he has been holding himself back and seemed like he wanted to do more with you but was too afraid that he’d either hurt you or scare you—which you think is a little bit too late, considering that he’d have to do something way too extreme for you to be scared or weirded out. Nevertheless, you thought just the thing that could compensate for your lack of a physical gift within a short time.

---

September 14

It was finally that day, the day your favorite human being was born twenty-two years ago, and you couldn’t wait for the gift you were about to give him. Rather than an actual gift, you decided to make him a nice dinner, along with a small cake customized for him for you two to share and eat. Despite his loud and energetic presence, he never liked big loud parties and he expressed so many times that he could celebrate in only two ways; either with you and his members or just with you—no more than that. And it seems that he wanted to celebrate with the second option since he informed you that he and the members will celebrate it a day late, so he and Felix could celebrate their respective birthdays together and instead will celebrate his main birthday with you, which thankfully made your plans much easier.

He was still at work meanwhile you prepared your dinner. You decided to wear the prettiest black dress you own, the one that Jisung often tells you how gorgeous you look in. Although you don’t wear it very often, it has become Jisung’s favorite since he constantly asks you to wear it and thought it suits your body so well. You thought it was just the sheer excitement and horniness he has when he expressed what he said, but when you looked at yourself in that dress and the way it hugged your body beautifully, you understood why he constantly asks for you to wear it.

Doubled by the fact that you were wearing lingerie that honestly did nothing to conceal but more to tease. Through the slit of the dress, your garter was shown, but you didn’t mind, as you knew it may drive him even more crazy. You did your hair and make-up—you purposely wore non-waterproof mascara and non-smudge proof lipstick for the occasion—and you thought if Jisung wouldn’t fuck you as soon he gets into the door, which you doubt, then he’d be a fool for missing out.

You were busy admiring yourself that you nearly ignored your vibrating phone had it not for the rumbling noise annoying your eardrum. You picked it up and you saw it was Jisung’s text.

Jisung: Hey babe !! I just got done with practice with the boys and I’m on my way !!

Jisung: Can’t wait for what you had for me when I walk in ;)

While you knew he was just playing and teasing in the last message, you couldn’t help but feel like your stomach dropped due to your nervousness. You didn’t want to self-doubt yourself; you knew Jisung wouldn’t be mad at you for not getting him a physical gift, but you can’t help but have guilt pile up in your stomach. You shook your head and reassured yourself that everything will be fine and that if he didn’t want this, then you’ll promise him a shopping spree and he can spend all your money on whatever items he wants.

You sighed as you went and prepared your dinner. You cooked up his favorite meal and brought him his favorite drink as well. The cake sat in the fridge as it cooled down, it wasn’t the most elaborate nor the fanciest cake, but it was certainly a pretty birthday cake that has his favorite flavor. You already placed the “22” candle on the cake so when he eats, you’ll light it up and give him the cake before you proceed with the plan.

As you finally finished with the dinner set and lighting up the candle, you heard the door lock being opened and the door creaked as the figure entered the house.

“Hey, babe! I’m home—” Jisung’s voice cut off as he sees the romantically dimly lit room, the fancy dinner set, and then you, you in full beauty and glory. His mouth was opened wide, letting out quick gasps and a smile as he was surprised by the atmosphere. You smiled as he got closer to you, “Happy birthday, Ji…” you kissed his cheek, letting him inhale your natural scent mixed with perfume through your neck.

His eyes went back to you with a flabbergasted smile, “you did all this?”

You nodded back and hummed an affirmative sound, enjoying his excited reaction at the dinner set and looking at the deliciously presented food before his eyes went back to you. He looked like he was about to say something, but he then looked back at the dress you were wearing. His eyes began their trail from your exposed collarbone down to the slit of the dress, which exposed your black garter, making him blush and giggle.

“You’re wearing the dress…” He said, smirking at the sight as he turned his body to you, his arms wrap around your body, and pulling you closer. You only smiled back with a shrug, silently telling, or rather teasing him, that it was just a dress. He pulled you in for a kiss as his hands went lower down your back, it was slow yet passionate, which made you instantly pull away so you wouldn’t smudge your lipstick and not escalate your plan sooner.

“No, Ji, we have to eat first,” you giggled at how handsy he is getting and how your red lipstick stained his lips. He pouted, “C’mon, baby, I’m so tired, and I just want to get to be with you—“ he faked crying and plead as he attempted to get his hand on the garter but you slapped his hand away.

“I know, Ji, I know but I cooked your favorite meal and I want you to have a taste before it gets too cold…”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, when my favorite meal is standing right in front of me is always hot—Ow!” His flirting words got replaced by an exaggerated exclaim from your lightly punching him in the chest and pushing him in the process. You chuckled and ordered him to sit and eat, which he did so while looking at you affectionately. You sat right across him, observing him and eating him up with your eyes rather than the food in front of you.

You observe how beautiful he is even whilst eating his food, how his full cheeks take in the food, his muscular arm slight flex when used to cut the food, the way his hand wrapped around the drink when he goes in for a sip, you were looking at him as if he was the most beautiful man in the world, and he is in your world. He noticed your gaze, which made him smile at you, “what?”

You scrunched your nose in a smile as you shook your head, “oh nothing… just at how pretty you are.” His brows narrow as he smiles nervously, “what do you have in plan, Ms. (l/n)?” he asked as he saw you standing with a smirk on.

“Oh, nothing too big, just wanting to give my boyfriend the best birthday gift of his life…” You leaned in and pecked him on the cheek, giving him a kiss mark, “don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

And off you went to the kitchen and left Jisung alone with his thoughts. His food was nearly neglected when you left as you left him a mark—literally, but he still doesn’t know that—especially in that damn dress that he admires you in. He remembered the day you bought it; you were self-conscious about the way you looked in it since it was a dress out of your comfort zone, you sighed as you called Jisung for his opinion. When he walked in and sees you in that black fabric, he nearly dropped his phone on his phone as he sees you. You looked beautiful in that dress, and when he sees how you were holding into your arm as if to indicate your uncertainty, he wished he could push away your arms and show you how pretty you looked.

But he didn’t want to push you, so he resorted to kissing you, praising you, and asking about it every time you go out, and thankfully, both of you were glad you ended up keeping it, especially from your side. As Jisung was spaced out, he didn’t realize that you came out of the kitchen until you began singing to him happy birthday, which made him shake his head as he looked at you with surprised wide eyes. Instead of the dress, you showed up with the cake in hand, and in you came with a robe—yes, you hid a robe and the dress somewhere in the kitchen so you could dress up quickly. Once you got closer and about to close off the song, you sat on Jisung’s lap and placed the candlelit cake between the two of you.

You smiled at him sweetly, “make a wish, Hannie…”

It was difficult to close his eyes when your beauty was emanating into the room even brighter than the candle lights. When he sees you raising your brows in encouragement, he closed his eyes and quickly blew the candles letting the smoke disperse into the air in an instant. You cheered as you placed the cake on the table and wrapped your arms around his neck as your gaze met his. Both of you mirrored the lustful yet loving gaze towards each other, but you still didn’t want to feed in yet.

“Do you wanna unwrap your gift or—”

“Yes, please!” Jisung spoke, interrupting your question without hesitation making you laugh at his eagerness, “birthday boy couldn’t for his gift, I see?” you giggled as you ruffled his hair before standing up. The bow you tied in your robe was within his eye level, making him look up to you to wait for your next move.

“Unwrap your present birthday boy.” Your tone was much sultry than your previous maternal voice, making Jisung’s eyes both darkened and gleam in excitement. His hands reached to your bow and his fingers pulled it off, letting the strands fall against your body, as the robe slowly and teasingly revealed your surprise. He looked up at you, and you nodded, encouraging him to proceed with unwrapping you, his gift. When he pushed off the robe there you exposed the lingerie your dress hid perfectly—aside from your garter. It was sheer material, meaning Jisung could see all the parts he had seen previously, but this time in a way he never would have thought of seeing you in real life, and boy, was he glad that his fantasies were becoming a reality.

“Well, birthday boy, are you gonna sit here and observe your present, or are you gonna do something with it and use me?”

---

You were glad that you screwed up and forgot to get him something tangible.

The regret, guilt, and insecurity in your face and head disappeared as soon as Jisung carried you into your room, with his lips attached to you. During the make-out, he caught a glimpse of his kiss-marked face from the reflection of the mirror, smirking as he notices why you wore the makeup in the first place. He pulled away from you as he lays you down, and him getting on top of you.

“So, I see you wanted to mark me, huh?” His voice was raspy from his yearning to just take you and ruin you on the spot. Before you could speak, he dragged his thumb across your bottom lips, staining and smudging your lips, the red pigment reached to your chin thanks to his thumb gathering and spreading it across your skin. You’ve accelerated his desire to destroy even more, even shown when he practically ripped your lingerie off but left the garter on you, as he wanted to see you in it as he rams himself in you, and it was a promise he was sure he wasn’t going to break.

And he kept with that promise, as of right now, he placed you on your hands and knees facing the mirror that reflected Jisung’s feral imagination coming to life, with your makeup-stained face thanks to Jisung’s previous sessions that made you cry out in pleasure and ruin your makeup and way of speech.

“You can handle another one, baby, I bet you can…” The way he spoke to you was straight filth, but you mewled at it as you anticipated his cock filling up your walls once again, almost as if your pussy has become more reliant on it the more he inserts it, and the more you came around him. “My sweet cumslut,” he whispered as he slaps your ass, making you yelp out a squeal at the smack.

He snickers at your cute reaction as he began thumbing your swollen clit while aligning his cock against your soaking wet hole, making you throw your head into the mattress as you whine against the sheets. Jisung gripped your hair firmly and made your head face the mirror, showing off your ruined face. He leaned into your ears, making eye contact with you through the mirror, “you better take a look at yourself as I fuck your little pussy… got it?” His voice was low and threatening, especially doubled with the sharp gaze he was giving you through the mirror.

When you couldn’t answer back instantly, he pulled your hair once again, but this time he harshly shoves his cock in you, making you yelp at the sudden action. “I said, look at yourself,” he gritted his teeth as this time he looked at you in the face, trying to see if you opened your eyes. When you did open your eyes and looked at the mirror, if you were in your normal state of mind, you would have thought that you looked like a hot mess. But since your brain was fucked to the point it shut down, all you could focus is worshipping Jisung and his cock.

Jisung let go of your hair and leaned back, slapping your ass once again as he observes the way your pussy was swallowing his cock so well. He smirked before looking back at you, making you look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he can move in the next second.

“Fuck yourself against me.”

His tone was as sharp as a knife, and you felt it graze against your skin as you felt goosebumps going across your body. “Okay, Hannie,” you spoke in a soft tone as you did what was told. You leaned yourself back and forth, making you whine at the way you pushed your hips against his. It may be because you were weak or maybe because you enjoyed the way Jisung’s moved against yours, but you wanted Jisung to fuck you as hard as he did before.

But there he was, static, as he looks at you menacingly with a smirk, seeing you suffering underneath him. All that whining, moaning, and pouting, as well as pushing yourself even further in the hopes of him moving against you, but he stayed still.

At this point you started to cry, “Hannie… please fuck me… please fill me up once again… you do it so much better…” your pleads within your sobs were pathetic, to say the least, but it nearly broke Jisung and he almost caved in.

“Are you telling the birthday boy what to do?” he taunted with an evil smirk while you shook your head with a sob, black tears started to fall once again from your mascara down your cheeks. “No! No! You’re in full control! I am yours and yours only and only you could fuck me so good!”

Your cries were even more pitiful than the last one, but it seemed to work this time as Jisung gripped your hips, and then he started to gain control over your hips once again. The way your skin slapped against his thanks to the way he rapidly rammed his cock into yours, making the two of you moan at the feeling.

The combination of the wet sounds along with your and his blissed voices could make a neighbor complain about how loud it is, but it was the last thing you two cared about, too consumed from the amazing feeling you two are experiencing, especially with how you felt your peak was approaching from the way your stomach was heating up.

“Hannie… I’m so close—fuck!” you managed to moan out, strings of cusses and whines escaping your lips. With the way his hips started give out slightly, it seems as though he wasn’t far either. “I’m close too, baby… come with me…”

As he spoke, his words broke into high pitched moans, as after a few thrusts, he began painting your walls white with his cum, filling you up to the brim with its white warm contents. Not long after, you too reached your orgasm, making you drop your head and top body to the mattress, panting for air, while Jisung pulled away and laid next to you. After a few minutes of grasping for air, Jisung turns his head to you, places his hand behind your head and massages it.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He softly asked, concern was also laced in the question. You turned your head to him and gave him a dopey smile, “yeah, I feel amazing… what about you?”

He giggled at your reaction, “oh, I feel great,” he responded back, matching your energy, making you laugh. You two then spent in silence, lovingly staring each other, enjoying the silence as you flipped yourself in your back before leaning in to kiss Jisung’s lips.

While the passion and fire were present, it was more chaste and romantic than the previous kisses you two had.

“Happy Birthday, Hannie.” You spoke through the kiss with a smile, adoration present in both the eyes and lips.

Jisung smiled back loving, “Thank you, baby… this was the best birthday present I’ve ever received…”

“Yeah, it better be!” you exclaim, half-jokingly, making the two of you laugh.

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