#I actually adore the idea of their dynamic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlorinecake · 3 months ago

Text

﴾ This Is How Much IDGAF — 𝐇.𝐇𝐉 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ

▹PAIRING: Possessive Boyfriend Hyunjin x F. Reader

▹ GENRE: ⚠︎ Smut, Model / Idol Au, Angst, Fluff

── 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ܃ While at a prestigious fashion event with your boyfriend, you two made your public debut as a celebrity couple. However, after Hyunjin caught sight of you mingling with a flirtatious stranger, he was determined to remind you who you belonged to before the night was out...

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, kissing, jealous!hyunjin lol, degrading kink, face slapping, oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial, spit kink, S&M, some spanking, rough unprotected sex, hair pulling

▹ 𝐖ORD 𝐂OUNT ⨾ 4074 ࿐Day 11

AS HYUNJIN'S GIRLFRIEND, you had always felt comfortable stepping into the limelight that often surrounded him, even when his fame far surpassed yours.

It never bothered you that he was the center of attention at events like these, and in fact, you genuinely preferred blending into the crowd at times...

It’s actually how you first met each other.

You were relatively new in the modeling world, and Hyunjin was an A-lister. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when he approached you, asking for your name and if you knew where the drink bar was.

Since then, you two are both a happy couple now, and with that, Hyunjin wanted to make tonight special for you; he planned to publicly announce your relationship and the idea of stepping out as a couple made your palms sweat with anticipation.

Hyunjin stood in front of the mirror while adjusting his necktie; it was something he did all the time on his own, but today, the task was proving to be much more difficult than usual.

You were busy retouching your makeup when you caught on to his little sighs of frustration, and immediately, putting your makeup brush down, you replaced his anxious fingers with your own, adjusting the tie flaps for him with meticulous precision.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said with a soft smile, but you could tell it was a forced one given the tension in his eyebrows.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you returned, giving the tie a few more tugs until it was just right, “I’ve never seen you this nervous before…”

He chuckled at your words as you took a step back to check him out, the sleek black suit he wore hugging his figure perfectly with every line accentuating his modelesque figure.

“Me neither,” he replied, in between applying some final touches of his cologne, “I just don’t know what to expect from tonight…”

“Then don’t expect anything at all,” you whispered, gently squeezing his bicep through his suit, “you’re gonna do great, alright?”

His tender gaze flickered from your face and back to the mirror as he took in the reflection of you two standing beside each other, and you looked absolutely stunning together.

Hyunjin could almost see all the adoring headlines and flashing lights in the back of his mind already, making his heart flutter with pride.

“Alright,” he repeated, and much more confidently this time, snagging off his necktie single-handedly as the extra fabric was only making it harder for him to relax and he looked much hotter without it anyway.

Hooking your hand in his, the two of you exchanged a brief kiss, waltzing out of the dressing room and beyond excited to have attended the fashion event.

Stepping out of the sleek limousine, you and Hyunjin soon arrived at the venue, and the atmosphere was electric.

Famous faces mingled in designer attire, and fashion elitists swarmed around the gleaming runway, champagne glasses glad in hand.

Admittedly, the scene was pretentiously grandiose, from the red carpet outside to the elaborate decor inside the atmosphere was made even more dynamic thanks to the electric dance music playing.

It was a bit overwhelming when people started to approach the two of you because as mentioned previously, you both were accredited to your own standard of fame; you had your past and future fashion representatives tugging at your attention while Hyunjin interacted with fellow models from his circle as well.

You both radiated joy, your smiles bright and infectious, as grace and charm seemed to flow from you like a warm glow. With your arms intertwined, you were resolute in your commitment to remain side by side all evening.

And ironically so, as almost every conversation, including the harsh barking from photographers, led to the same, faithful, question: “Are you two together?”

As brief as it was, the question meant the world to you.

The warmth of adoration that surrounded you two tonight was undeniable, and it melted your heart to see how confident he was.

Scanning the room, it seemed like everyone’s eyes were on you two now, so it was like you had no other choice but to split up to take the attention off yourselves.

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby,” Hyunjin whispered while kissing the temple of your head, “don’t go too far, now…”

“I won’t,” you smiled, letting go of his hand before eventually finding yourself by the drink bar, chatting it up with someacquaintances and familiar faces.

You remember running into Momo, who actually worked at the same company as your boyfriend, and she congratulated you on coming public about your relationship.

“That takes a lot of courage to do in this industry, and I couldn’t be happier for you and Hyunjin,” she hummed before eventually walking away, leaving you to yourself again.

After a while, Hyunjin still hadn’t come to find you yet…

That’s when a certain partygoer made his way over to you, a glint of mischief dangling in his eyes as he winked, making your face heat up as you didn’t know how to respond to such behavior.

He had been noticeably eyeing since you and Hyunjin parted ways, and before you knew it, he was already making small talk with you.

“Nice dress,” he began in a voice smoother than the champagne bubbling over in everyone’s glasses. “And is that a Versace necklace? It looks stunning on your complexion.”

He reached out his hand to examine the chain up close now, and you internally shivered at the feeling of his cold fingers grazing your chest.

“Thank you,” you returned shyly, “my boyfriend’s actually an ambassador for Versace… this is a custom-made piece…”

The man gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying the whole ‘boyfriend name drop’ trick at all, so he continued.

“I suppose that makes you a very lucky girl then,” he smirked before finally letting go of your necklace, “is that ring from him, too?”

His confidence was off-putting, but you brushed the annoyance aside, thinking it was harmless banter, “Yeah, it’s a promise ring…”

“Oh, I know what it is,” he chuckled sarcastically while licking his lips, “Though, I can’t say you’re fortunate anymore if Mr. Versace doesn’t even let you touch him—”

“It’s a symbol of our loyalty,” you corrected him as sternly as you could.

And giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assumed that the champagne had something to do with this man’s inappropriate boldness.

“My apologies, darling,” he said more quietly this time, “I didn’t mean to offend you, that’s just my sense of humor…”

“It’s alright, no offense taken,” you replied, not meeting his face now as his sharp features were only magnified under the venue lighting…

The two of you exchanged a few more words before you felt a sharp grip on your arm, one that was masked by a forced smile of pleasantness.

It was Hyunjin, who unbeknownst to you, had watched the entire exchange… his previously tender expression shifted as he caught sight of the guy leaning in too closely, laughing too loudly, and getting too touchy.

You felt a sudden tension in the air; the warmth of the event seemed to drain away now that Hyunjin was by your side again.

“Hey,” Hyunjin started, and the typically playful tone of his voice was replaced by a steely edge. You could see the anger flaring behind his dark eyes, making your stomach flutter at the way his jaw visibly tightened as he spoke, “I think you should leave.”

And with this, the stranger only smirked, perhaps not taking your boyfriend seriously, but that only fueled Hyunjin's possessiveness even more.

“Look man, we were only talking—”

“Well did she tell you she was spoken for?… Huh?” Hyunjin asked, his protective and jealous grip on you growing tighter.

“I mean, she might’ve mentioned it, but with looks like hers, you can’t blame a guy for not caring, right?”

Hyunjin scoffed, and you felt your heartbeat increase with each passing second.

Before you could even process all that was happening, your boyfriend wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him just to make it undeniably clear who you belonged to.

“Come on, babe,” he said with a forced smile, dragging you away from the unwelcome attention, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

Of course, that was a lie, but he only said it because he didn’t want the creepy guy trying to follow you two…

You kind of wished you knew the strange man’s name now, but it wouldn’t make a difference to Hyunjin anyway; he was already pissed at you… pissed that you just stood there and let that guy disrespect your relationship like that, and pissed that you didn’t walk away and just stood there, soaking up all his bullshit…

The rest of the night played out like a dance that lacked harmony; Hyunjin's smile never wavered from his face, just as his grip never wavered from your hand.

A throng of people already began to disperse out and about the main floor, though Hyunjin didn't even bother waiting for everyone to leave.

Walking past the elevator, he steered you towards the stairs, his eyes ridden with determination as he led you to a secluded area in the building.

The space oddly mimicked a kitchen given the steel accents and tile flooring…

You knew what was coming, and a strange mix of dread and exhilaration filled you as Hyunjin’s playful façade vanished completely.

“What the hell was that ____?” Hyunjin hissed without hesitation, voice low but intense as he took off his jacket and tossed it aside, already feeling too hot with his rage.

“I thought you knew better than to entertain guys like that… God, I… I brought you here to support me, ____…. to celebrate us… not so you could run off and flirt with strangers—”

“You know damn well I wasn’t flirting with him, Hyunjin,” you protested through a shaky voice, finally meeting his eyes, “I would never do something like that to you…”

Hyunjin’s expression softened slightly, but the tension remained as bold as ever.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you allowed it, ____,” Hyunjin returned, and you felt your spirit break all overagain.

“What do you mean I allowed it—what was I supposed to do, Hyunjin?… Scream like a damsel in distress while you were chatting it up with elite designers?” You raised your voice at him, and your use of sarcasm only provoked him further.

Pressing you against the wall, you felt your heart skip a bit at the anger radiating off of him now, and if he wasn’t so handsome, he’d likely look like a raging bull at this moment.

“I don’t want anyone thinking they have a chance with you, ____… I’m not just yelling at you for fun,” he scorned, only to take his free hand and hold your face in place.

You felt so ashamed at this moment, so confused; it was never your intention to encourage the stranger to behave in such a way, and you’d say Hyunjin was getting way too worked up over a simple interaction—

“Get out of your head slut, I’m still talking to you,” Hyunjin went on, keeping your body fused against the wall, “What were you just thinking about, anyways, huh?…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, and it had everything to do with the tears forming in your eyes now; Hyunjin had never called you such a thing—

“Oh, so you’re the kind of slut that cries instead of talking now?” He continued to degrade you, “because you sure had a lot to say when that guy had his hands on you…”

You shook your head at his words, not even bothering to hide your tears anymore as a few slid down your face anyway.

“Aww… What is it, dolly… hm? Do I have to touch you to get you to talk for me?” He whispered condescendingly, only to tighten his grip on your face and force a weak whimper out of you…

“H-Hyunjin—“ you stuttered while lifting your arm to remove his painful grip from your face, but he instead found your hand in his own, pinning your wrist to the wall.

“You don’t get to touch me right now,” he slithered impossibly close to your face now, and his voice went straight to your core, lingering there long enough for you to feel yourself pulse slightly.

It was embarrassing, honestly… the fact that you were getting turned on by the cruelty in his words…

Hyunjin looked down for a second, letting out an attractive sigh to exhale some of his nerves.

Your emotions were still spiraling inside you, and despite how the look in his eyes should’ve intimidated you, it only turned you on even more, and in all honesty, he was feeling the same way himself.

The only reason he looked back up so suddenly was because he caught sight of the way you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together for leverage, and he felt himself getting harder by the minute.

“Why’d you just stand there, love?… knowing I’d get upset like this…” Hyunjin whispered, voice hoarse as he looked at you with his piercing gaze, “Unless you wanted to make me mad… is that what happened?”

He honestly had rendered you speechless; you had no clue what he wanted to hear right now, and it didn’t help that your brain kept dozing off, failing to focus on anything but the thought of him fucking you—

“Hyunjin!” You gasped, feeling a wad of his spit decorate your face now.

“That’s how dumb sluts are treated,” he said, and it was clear that his patience had reached its limit on tolerating your bullshit. “And since you don’t have anything to say other than my name, I’ll just have to find a new use for your mouth.”

Letting your wrist free and removing his grip from your face, his hands find your shoulders, shoving you down to the ground knees-first before promptly undoing his pants, and he can feel your weak eyes watching his every move now…

His dick is quick to come out, too, eager and erect as one of his hands finds your scalp, angling your head upward to face him.

“Suck it,” he commands, and your lips hesitantly but surely invite his cock into the warmth of your mouth, and he visibly bites back a groan at the feeling.

Needing something to brace on, your hands find his thighs, but he swats them away, staying firm on his rule that you don’t get to touch him.

Your first instinct was to use your hands to help you take his length, too, but you knew better than to give that a try.

Opening your throat the best you could, you bobbed your head against his shaft at a medium pace, making sure you tightened your lips around the base just how he liked it.

But by now, it was getting much harder for him to seem unfazed as tiny groans of pleasure started to slip past his mouth the more and more you sucked, genuinely enjoying the taste of him.

Hyunjin was embarrassingly close to finishing, cursing under his breath while guiding your head to move a little slower, as you had only been sucking for a few minutes.

That’s when suddenly, he shoved your head down as far as your throat could go before you started gagging.

“Such a pathetic cock whore,” he spat, feeling himself twitch at the sight of foggy eyeliner staining your face now.

Pulling out of your mouth, a dense string of precum kept you together until he told you to stand up for him.

You were completely drunk on lust right now, and that was all without having a single swig of alcohol in your system.

Hyunjin’s hands found your waist, and you were promptly laid on the countertop, back-first.

The metal surface was cold against your skin, making your whole body shiver before your boyfriend eventually grabbed your thighs, roughly angling them so he could have perfect access to your cunt.

Leaning down, he was gracious enough to find your lips in a kiss, even though affection from him was one of the last things he felt you deserved right now.

“So wet already,” he murmured against your mouth, reaching down a hand to glide his digits over your folds, and you felt your abdomen tighten every time one of his silver rings grazed your sensitive sex, “Did that guy turn you on, or is it just me?”

“Ahh~” You moaned suddenly, and only because he slapped your cunt the moment you tried putting your hands in his hair for leverage.

He knew how much you loved his hair, and just touching him in general; not allowing you to have such access to him was doing exactly what he intended it to do…

“You know I only get this way for you, Hyun,” you whined beneath him, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised you had anything to say at all given your pathetic silence thus far.

However, his stoic expression soon returned as he brushed off your words, determined to teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget.

Hyunjin lined himself up with your eager hole, preventing any other thoughts from crossing your mind as he buried himself deep inside you, stretching your walls out inch by inch.

“Here’s something you can think about the next time another guy flirts with you,” he groaned at the tightness, and you swear a part of your heart crumbled at the fiery look on his face.

After the first few snaps of his hips, Hyunjin had your voice echoing off the walls, thighs trembling at the sides of his waist as he pounded into you at a pace you weren’t expecting so soon.

“That’s it, slut… let everyone hear how I make you mine,” he whispered, leaning back down to leave a trail of sloppy, hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, the both of you humming at sensation.

“Fuck~” you cried out with your eyes sealed shut, getting lost in the rhythm of your body rocking up and down against the countertop.

Your tits shook with the movements, and his pelvis never felt so good while grinding against your burning clit.

“You like it rough, don't you, baby?” Your boyfriend grunted, his voice strained with desire and effort.

Your hands went to find his shoulders for balance, but he had them pinned to the countertop in a matter of no time, snickering to himself at the frustration brewing on your features.

“Aww, don’t tell me you thought I’d move on that easily,” he smirked, only to hiss the moment you very intentionally clenched your walls around him.

“Please,” you begged, and you’re not sure what for, but Hyunjin obliged anyway, pounding into you with an increasing force with his balls slapping against your ass with each deep thrust.

The sound of your flesh slapping together filled your ears now, accompanied by shaky pleas and needy moans.

“God,” he panted desperately, releasing your wrists so he grip your thighs again, spreading you wider as he continued to punish your pussy.

Leaning down, Hyunjin’s mouth captured one of your erect nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, sucking and nibbling on it gently to send shocks of pleasure throughout your sweaty body.

“You’re mine, ____… all fucking mine,” he whispered through slurred words, and his voice was so low that you felt it in your knees.

You were getting close to the edge already as your body coiled tighter with each hit of his hips, but from experience, you could Hyunjin was even closer.

His mouth was right below your ear now as you struggled to keep your hands off of him, and with one more faithful attempt, you let your fingers get lost in his scalp, but this time, he didn’t reject your touch.

With gentle eyes, your boyfriend lifted his weight off of you, holding your face in place while finding your lips in yet another passionate kiss.

And was with that alone that your walls shattered around him, clenching and milking his cock as his entire body quivered at the powerful orgasm washing over him.

The metal countertop no longer seemed cold as his warm cum splashed inside you, his muscular body tensing slightly as adorably throaty groans slipped past his swollen lips.

“Hyunjin,” your voice came out quietly and breathy as his hips suddenly stopped moving, and when his dark eyes peered into your weak ones, you knew your misery wasn’t over quite yet.

“Oh, don’t even start,” he began, slipping out of your cunt with a foul wet sound, and your core almost cried at the sudden emptiness, “You’re lucky you even got that much…”

As badly as your inner being wanted to curse him out for chasing his orgasm only to deny you of a release, you decided it was best to simply sulk and accept it.

Sliding off the counter, Hyunjin helped you out by wiping the evidence of arousal and intimacy from between your legs before readjusting your clothes for you…

It was an interesting form of déjà vu as you thought back to a few hours prior when you helped him fasten his tie back.

Giving him a playful look, your fingers found the side of your dress as you gently tugged, alluding to the way he tossed his tie away earlier.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to be bad after everything I just did to you” he chuckled, playfully swatting your hand away. His laughter, although brief, was contagious, and you couldn't help but giggle yourself now as you leaned against his shoulder given the way your legs started to tingle from falling asleep.

The warmth of his body was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety in his presence once he secured a protective hand at your waist.

Hyunjin was sure to grab his jacket in his free hand as well, the fabric draping over your shoulders like a shield against the cool evening air as you both made your way back to the main venue.

The photographers were too busy capturing shots of the models strutting down the runway to notice you two slipping in, and thankfully so since neither of you looked as put together as you did half an hour ago with your hair slightly tousled and his shirt wrinkled from the prior fit of sexual tension.

You and Hyunjin managed to snag some seats in the back that were nestled under the soft, ambient lighting, casting a subtle glow around you.

Slender silhouettes of models glided before your eyes with their outfits appearing as blurs of color and fabric... though,your focus was entirely on the man beside you.

Leaning closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder, sighing at the comforting scent of his cologne as a shy smirk danced on his lips.

“Are you okay, love?.... I mean... was I maybe too harsh earlier?” A now much calmer Hyunjin inquired through a whisper, voice low and teasing, but there was a hint of genuine concern in his eyes, “You looked like you were on the verge of passing out, honestly...”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his words, nudging him with your elbow; “I did not! I was just… enjoying the moment,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you.

“Enjoying the moment, huh?” He repeated playfully, raising an eyebrow at your demeanor, “Is that what you call it when you can hardly stand up on your own without even finishing?”

You laughed, the sound light and airy, and it felt good to let go of the tension from before. “Okay, maybe you were a little over the top, I'll admit--”

“Baby, why didn't you tell me?!”

“But,” you went on to continue, dragging out the word to get his attention again, “I still enjoyed every last second of it...”

He fell quiet at your words as yet another shy smile tugged at his lips, revealing his adorable dimples, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you recited, tugging the swell of his bicep even tighter now as both your eyes turned back to the stage, making sure to stay close to each other for the rest of the night.

✎𓂃 Thanks for reading DAY 11's fic entry for my 2024 Kinktober Event !! Once again, I'm a bit late to posting this, but nonetheless, if you're interested, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here !!

♱ PERM TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy (miss you), @wonbinisbabygurl @watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

♱ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs @mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij @yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess @zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier @idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408 @crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg @d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

1K notes · View notes

aashi-heartfilia · 1 year ago

Text

The hypocrisy of Jinshi and MaoMao

*light novel spoilers*

I just love how hypocritical MaoMao's nature is. She yells at Jinshi for being a 'Masochist' and yet we see that she's no different. Now, by definition Masochist is a person who drives sexual gratification from their own pain and humiliation, plus it relates to Jinshi's tendency to do self harm (like burning his skin with a brand)

And what is MaoMao's most favourite thing in this world?

POISON

She literally takes pleasure in consuming it and no one can convince me otherwise. Plus she uses dangerous plants and animals and snakes whatnot in the name of her so-called experiments. Her dad may call her a 'mad Scientist' but that is a direct indication of self harm.

And she calls Jinshi a Masochist.

I mean, think about it! The amount of anxiety she gives to Jinshi! She came prepared with a vomit inducing medicine but even she had no idea whether it would work or not. She was just hoping it would work in the salt chapter.

And the same goes for her hand, on which she has conducted countless experiments. One flower even burned her skin and its marks never left her skin. She said it was all for her hobby. What kind of weird hobby is that? Maybe, our little adorable mad scientist is just like that.

One brands his own skin, while the other takes heavenly pleasure in consuming poison.

So my point is, Jinshi and MaoMao are not that different as one might think they are and that's why their dynamic works so well.

Let's look at the excerpts from volume 5:

She didn’t know how long they sat that way. All she knew was that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. “I said that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,” she told him. “I refuse to let you poison yourself,” Jinshi said, his fingers tracing her lips. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know that you were one of the candidates. As much as I’m sure you’d like to.” He wasn’t done, either: “Who was that man, anyway? I’m sure you’re not a dancer.” So he had been watching them! “I was just paying for my drink,” Maomao said. “It didn’t cost much.” She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she really couldn’t.

Jinshi just choked her and yet he refuses to let MaoMao poison herself. A lot of people misinterpret this scene, and don't like it all that much, saying it was just fanservice stuff but this is how I see it: Jinshi wasn't trying to kill MaoMao, he was just trying to make MaoMao submit to him for once (even if the way he did it was very wrong, but guess he's kinky like that). MaoMao is actively trying to harm herself and Jinshi loves MaoMao a lot, he cannot just let her kill herself.

It was more about him trying to exert his dominance in their weirdish - complicated relationship and that also backfires on him as we see in the next volume that MaoMao escapes Jinshi's grasps using Pairin's techniques.

And then they both continue to avoid each other in the entire next volume! Because they both realised that they have crossed boundaries.

They both are hypocrites.

And they both refuse to accept their feelings.

In one of the later volumes, she gives Jinshi a piece of her mind on how he should tell her everything clearly, unequivocally, what he feels, and he literally declares that "he will make her his wife", which is nice and all but look at the wording MaoMao used here....

Excerpts from LN Vol 7, chapter 19 called "A man and a woman play the game"

"You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! To make me figure it all out! You know, you remind me of someone. You act exactly like a man who used to come by our brothel all the time. He was in love with one of the girls, but he would never just come out and say it. He thought it should be obvious from the way he acted. He was so sure he had a good thing going with this woman that he never sent her so much as a letter. I remember how forlorn he looked when someone else swooped in and snatched her away! He kept coming to the brothel after that—to get drunk and whine to the ladies. Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

Everything came out in a torrent. She felt like she’d said it all in one breath. It was strange, she thought, to hear so many words come out of her own mouth. She was mystified. Jinshi was no less startled, but the shock soon left his face, replaced by something else. He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

“So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!” He grabbed her hands as she was in the process of trying to put her fingers in her ears. He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”

It's one heck of a chapter and I suggest you give it a go! The title of the chapter says "A man and a woman play the game" as if to emphasize the very fact that both Jinshi and MaoMao are playing the game.

Jinshi has never confessed his true feelings before this chapter and only implied that he wanted to make MaoMao his wife.

The implications were heavy though on Jinshi's part, and as smart as MaoMao is, anyone would have guessed that MaoMao was one of the candidates for Jinshi's consort. Even the clothes she received (the ones she wore to the banquet) were also provided by Jinshi along with the hairpin. It is never stated outright but seeing as the hairpin was from Jinshi, the clothes are also implied to be the same.

More or less she's always deliberately ignoring the possibility of having anything to do with him, that is more than professional. Some may call it denial, I call it dense. Maybe, to some extent, she herself is not aware of her feelings because she never lets herself feel anything.

Even Suiren pointed it out pretty early in the manga, that maybe it's MaoMao's way of being reserved. We need to keep in mind that MaoMao is an unreliable narrator and it's more of what she does, rather than what she says that makes a difference.

Even in the chapter that I have quoted above, she had every reason to leave Jinshi, she wasn't working for him after all. But she stayed to make tea for him, even after the fact that she had a long day too. She was almost just as exhausted as Jinshi and yet she was there preparing medicinal tea, so that he could get a better sleep.

Maybe she herself is yet to realise just how deep her feelings run. Till vol 12 she seems to have accepted them, but she still is yet to acknowledge their depth. Maybe it's because of her childhood.

It's not a traumatic backstory but MaoMao had a sad childhood nonetheless....

She was raised by her grand uncle and her real father was eccentric, who scared her. Her mother must also appear to be kind of demonic to her, since she was desperate enough to cut MaoMao's Pinky finger and send it to Lahan. So it's safe to say that MaoMao never received proper parental affection. And adding to the fact that, a brothel is not exactly an ideal place for raising a child.... especially when the birth of MaoMao was the one thing that brought the brothel to its knees...even if being born wasn't her choice.

Plus MaoMao stated it herself that when she was a baby, no one would come to sooth her until their work was finished, implying that even if MaoMao and her brothel sisters are close, they are not that close. A mother's love is different and she never received it. No one can love you more than your mother and MaoMao was deprived of that. She soon realised that no one was coming. Life is hard and she has no choice but to face it!

So, she got interested in poison.

Maybe she doesn't love herself or her life as much as she says / pretends she does. She's always like "yeah, I would very much like my head to be with my body" and "if I stay low profile maybe I can survive here" etc but maybe deep down that's not the case. Maybe that's why she loves poison so much. The implications are crazy.

And to break MaoMao's shell, Jinshi has no choice but to be a bit more forceful at times? At least that's how I interpret that choking scene. Jinshi was angry at MaoMao because she deliberately suggested him to marry consort Rishu and danced with Rikuson.

Even if Jinshi never said it outright, he was giving hints the entire time.

But well the tables turned and MaoMao topped him instead, lol (vol 7) and later we even see that our little stray cat has accepted Jinshi and she's ready to be in a relationship with him (vol 12).

Plus she is intrigued by the process of birth (she wants to eat her baby's placenta, it's kind of uggghhh.... but anyways, that MaoMao we're talking about, she's just weird that way)

Maybe not after too long she'll realise that if she has to give birth, she can only have it with Jinshi and no one else.

~Sunshine

5K notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 11 months ago

Note

Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university. You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall. The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway.

It is a big lecture hall. He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside. No one will notice an extra presence. There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one.

You like seeing Chan in his element. Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes. You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character. He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.

You adore him. His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance. You must admit: your husband is a hottie. You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves. His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk. His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it.

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work.

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student. In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row. They stop on you.

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye. He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again. “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”

Your smile only widens. There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye. You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out. Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers. You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle. He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say. Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely.

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh. You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage.

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face. “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment. His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush. You cannot help your delight.

“Ooh,” you say. “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it.

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked. He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag. “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office. Then we’ll go grab dinner.”

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine. You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices. It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day.

He unlocks his office and lets you both in. While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door. He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings. You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan. There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space.

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach. “What’s up?”

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel. You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him. He gazes up as you lean over him.

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away.

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say. “The door is locked. No one will ever find out.”

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles. He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed. With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you. He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten. Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already. “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips. He shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.” He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips.

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say. “I need you, Professor. I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says. He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow. “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.

Because you do. You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known. Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today. You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture. But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go. And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say.

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects. “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination. Just… looking at you…” He takes another breath and looks you over. His gaze is heady. “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk. Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him. “Please, Professor,” you say. “I’m begging you. I need a good grade or else. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything,” he says. “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement. Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say. You clasp your hands. “Anything at all.”

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby. A pretty girl like you. It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?” He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips. “They could be really mean to you,” he says. “Make you do things you don’t like. Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle. “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says. With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down. It flips back up with a bounce. “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Naw, naw,” he says. “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?” You blink up at him. “What for?”

“Tsk. Baby. You know what for.” He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy. “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid. You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”

He cups your chin. Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently.

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop. “Good job. See?” He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek. “You are good at something.” He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders. He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?”

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other. “You don’t need to talk,” he says. “No one needs to hear what you think. Open your mouth for me. That’s a good girl. Come on. You can take it.”

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out. He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth. He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure.

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow. You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek. Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk.

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry. “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there. He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all. He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand. “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?”

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm. “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling.

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you.

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight. It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch. “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says. “What do you call me? Huh? Dumb little girl.” He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him. “Try again,” he says.

“Oh, Professor,” you say. Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall. The evidence of his desire says it all. “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour. Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips. You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed.

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says. “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—” You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk. Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out. Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…” He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust. “To… be… quiet…”

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes. When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure. You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray. You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties. They are soaked in a second.

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles. “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.”

You giggle too, turning around to face him. You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants. He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk.

“Good idea,” you say. “That’s why you’re the professor.”

He laughs. Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #valentinesdaystories #stilestotherescue

2K notes · View notes

nouearth · 7 months ago

Text

teach me hard and soft.

pairing. zane phillips x male reader.

part two.

word count. 9.3k.

summary. the constant studying was getting to zane. reader helped his grades up, sure, but was it worth missing out on the parties where he could be dicking down random men and getting black-out drunk? reader's sudden proposition makes him think twice before quitting.

content warning. college!au, jock!zane, top!zane, nerd!reader, virgin!reader, bottom!reader, reader wears glasses, slight dom and sub dynamics, blowjob, dry-humping, rimming, praising, muscle and body worshipping, size difference, breeding, dirty talk, verbal, soft to rough!sex, a build to exposing reader to sexual intimacy!

Tutoring sessions were supposed to bring boredom. Mind-numbing monotony that wore heavy on Zane’s eyelids; weariness that steamrolled his mouth open with a yawn; frustration that made the inside of his head blare as his brain blended your explanations into a pasty mixture of nonsense. One word went in one ear and out the other, and another break would be enforced for the sake of his sanity on the surface. In actuality, Zane knew it was for your own mental soundness.

Yet upon the third meeting of the new week, redoing his calculus homework left him alert and excited—the complete opposite of boredom. It had little to do with the assignment at hand and everything to do with the man who was flipping through Zane’s textbook through brightened and adoring eyes like he was lost in the fantastical world of superheroes fighting for justice from panel to panel. It was you. You and him were polar opposites. Numbers were Zane’s kryptonite, while frankly, they were your super power, and evidently so as you’d complete multiple practice worksheets from Zane’s textbook to pass time. Until Zane was done with his own work.

It had become increasingly difficult to ignore you, especially with the incentive you had offered Zane last week if he completed the extra worksheets you assigned for practice—last week’s quiz was abysmal. Zane couldn’t get it off his mind—the idea of him tutoring you about all of life’s own intimacies. Instantly, an apparition of you; beneath him, over him, kissing, touching, feeling, squeezing, pleading; he snapped back to reality when he felt a warmth over his hand, and another source of heat swarming below his pelvis.

“Done? Looks like you corrected everything.” You peered over the opposite side of the short table, cross-legged on the floor like Zane beneath it.

“Oh—Uh, yeah. I had a little trouble with 4C, but…” Nonetheless, Zane slid the worksheet and a lined paper containing his proof of work towards you.

“Already looks like you’re getting the hand of it.”

It took a lot of willpower to stop himself from smiling when you perked up at the sight of his corrections.

Sunlight squinted through half-turned blinds in your bedroom, the sun bloated and content over the sheets of paper as you scanned them, comparing his answers and work to your own, and surprisingly marked them correct afterwards. Zane had a sigh of relief whenever you did, through briefly, because it would cycle again as you analyzed the next problem. Sometimes a little too long, though. Your brows would scrunch in confusion on how Zane came to that conclusion on a problem, but with a fix of your glasses, you tightened your gaze to analyze his work closer, and you marked it correct. That would repeat until you returned the worksheet with a score and a comment on top.

83%, Nice work!

It was like you were born to teach. You went over what Zane did correctly, what led to incorrect answers, what was missing in the formula, and what process that could save him the headache of memorizing. Every word came out of you like a story—a purpose to make sense of the world, of the problems you had given him. Your lips were distracting, minted breath tingling the inside of his nose—and god, how he wished he could taste it right now. And so, Zane endured a little longer, opened his ears, and made sure he was attentive, because he certainly wasn’t going to get that reward if he was slacking off.

“Nice job today! I’ll let you relax since you’ve been working hard. I know you have a match coming up, so…” You flipped through your binder of worksheets, unclasping it with a routine tug, and handed it to Zane. “Just finish problems one to four, is that okay?”

“Yeah. Perfect. Thanks.” Again, it took a lot of willpower for Zane to keep himself from smiling, especially since it seemed like you remembered his upcoming wrestling match. Like clockwork, he failed, blessing you with those pearly whites of his. As according to plan, you couldn’t spare a single second holding his gaze before feeling some type of way. Zane had picked up on your fidgeting—fingers, toes, and all—it was adorable.

Though, what wasn’t adorable was that you seemed to have treated this session like every other session, as if you hadn’t proposed that damn incentive that Zane had been working towards.

Did (M/N) forget? He couldn’t have, right? He was practically whining his way through when I began teasing him and—

And Zane would’ve been on his way out if he wasn’t so determined and unabashedly brazen.

“I thought I was going to teach you how to kiss.” Zane directly stated. Not as a question, but as a fact. You promised me this.

You caught your breath before you could choke on the water you were sipping. Instead, your shock was fleeting in the brights of your eyes.

“Oh—I… thought you forgot—“ You stammered through your surprise, and it only made Zane want you even more. Maybe there was regret that you had even proposed the idea, but it seemed like it wasn’t getting in the way of your conscience with how you stumbled to sit on your bed.

Zane followed, a pleased grin growing across his face, almost predator-like, because you were just as eager as he was, and it was exciting to know that he caused you to fidget for another round. “You couldn’t possibly think that I did your worksheets for…” Then, he looked over his shoulder, at the empty bowl on the table. “—a bowl of strawberries, right?”

“Well… strawberries reduce inflammation in the body, and I know you probably get tossed around a lot on the mat—”

God, his rambles are cute.

“I don’t get tossed around. I do the tossing.” Was that a threat? Zane didn’t mean for it to sound like one. He was merely playing a game of intimidation, to see if you were a man of his word. Even with the fleeting fear that heavenly passed from one eye to the other, whether it was from his taunt or from the evident size difference between you and him as he sat himself next to you, you seemed assured in your decision.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to your matches—“ Instead of acknowledging his presence, you stared at your folded hands, clammy in your lap.

“That’s fine. It gets boring pretty quick. I end up winning them.” Zane edged himself closer to you, in hopes to lift you from the enchantment of your palms.

“Really? Whoa, that’s cool—I would love to see it for myself. I’m sure I won’t get tired of it.” Knees touching now, and you still won’t look at him. Somehow, concentred even more now, on your fingernails this time. Biting them, pushing your cuticles back. Zane would’ve been annoyed with anybody else, by this inconsiderate lack of attention, but not you.

Never you.

A drop of silence fell over the both of you. One body hesitated, while the other was quietly pursued. Cicadas buzzed outside your window, passersby laughed in turn from a joke, and multiple vehicles roared, presumably racing each other down the street of your apartment. Zane watched you through all of it; the gentle inflate of your cheeks because you felt hot in the mouth, the bite of your lips because you were about to speak but ultimately rescinded; the curl of your toes into your socks because Zane suddenly put a hand over your lap to tear your gaze back towards him.

When you did—with those quivering eyes—Zane whispered, “Can I?” A permission that lit a twinkle in your pupils, stars mirroring the bright blues of Zane’s eyes. He leaned in because he was immediately pulled in like some kind of spell, a tilt to his head that you naturally countered, and pressed his lips to yours. “Follow my lead.”

Your lips were soft, incredibly supple flesh unfortunately stiffened by fear, an inexperience that Zane would cherish from this moment onward as he adapted and stilled until you’d adjusted.

“We’ll go slow, okay? Soft. Gentle. All of that. As long as you work with me.” Zane pulled a centimeter or two away from your lips, mumbling while making sure his breath compelled your lips to move. “Your turn. Kiss me. A small peck, can be a smooch too, your choice.”

“Y-Yeah, okay…” You nodded. You turned your body towards him for proper positioning, cross-legged, and Zane followed in turn. Then, you leaned in. A peck to Zane’s lips, your glasses bumped against his nose in the process. A chaste, pure moment of affection that Zane wished could have amounted to more, but he didn’t want to rush you.

Another one, a smooch like Zane had suggested, and a rather puzzled one at that because Zane was smiling from ear to ear, and you were confused, almost embarrassed as to why. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no… you’re just…” He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. First, at the absurdity of this mutual settlement. Second, at the luck he was given because it had to be you, someone he’d briefly discounted as merely ‘an awkward nerd’ upon first meeting. Lastly, because you were more than ‘an awkward nerd’ to him now. A cute guy, a smart person, an incredibly pure and sweet boy that he would more than love to—

Zane was getting ahead of himself. Just kissing. For now.

You weren’t going to learn efficiently this way. This step-by-step process only worked on paper, on problems, on math problems, and Zane was done adapting your style of teaching. Zane was a demonstrator, it was how he taught wrestling to the younger kids at his part-time job. And man, were you in need of a good demonstration.

“—so cute…” With one hand to your cheek, he guided you closer, and pressed his lips to yours again. A bit harder this time, but enough to pull a gasp, a breath, a sound out of you. You parted your lips, and Zane seized the opportunity to claim the soft flesh as his own. He could feel a gentle buzz festering among the joined lips, a spark that compelled you to take its voltage in and pass it off to Zane with a gentle nip. Then, a suck when the bolt of electricity returned back to you tenfold, and your hand—you didn’t know what to do with them, curling them into your shorts for the meantime, but Zane had the experience to know. He held one, squeezed to let you know that you were in good hands, then guided it towards the underside of his jaw, letting you hold him.

“Hold me if you feel lost.”

“Okay…”

It continued on like this for a while. The passing of electricity, of sparks. Eyes closed, lips held and parted away from one another for a breather, then reunited with a thin string of spit bridging warmth between the two mouths, mutual devotion climbing from one end of spit to the other.

“Just like that…” Zane whispered, encouraged, praised. He was referring to the ease of your tension, seemingly melting away baby the second, but also the sounds coming out of your mouth. What was once desperately vaulted in the back of your throat in fear of sounding too eager, moans had now fallen dramatically off your tongue like they were meant to be, and Zane sucked it right off in fear you’d restrain yourself again.

“Was that okay?” You paused, muttering into his lips. It tickled when Zane chuckled, the soft, thick hair of his mustache aiding the quiver of your lips.

You pulled back to give him space, to take in the air around you, but Zane had a sudden hold on you, on the back of your neck, gentle but firm, and gazed proudly into your eyes, past the crook of your glasses. He haunted you to the core with that smile of his, stilled your breath for a long moment when he squeezed at your nape, something knowing and mischievous, like you had been branded with a hot iron, his name engraved into the now bruising hold on your flesh, and you knew you couldn’t go back on your word now even if you tired.

As if you wanted to.

“A natural…” It was distracted, Zane didn’t mean for it to sound half-hearted, but that only meant that he was telling the truth if he dove immediately back to kissing you again, without bothering to fix the slant of your glasses.

You got it. It was as simple as that. The swapping of lips, of saliva, of licks, Zane made it all so easy, and all you had to do was follow his lead. He kissed you until you begged for a break. You kissed him until the rush of blood in your southern region had calmed.

And it never did, even when he kissed you goodbye. He could spot your erection from a mile away.

It was like this for Zane’s meetings from then on. Tutoring went on as usual. He brought in his worksheets, you lectured him through the problems he’d missed, and you’d check off the problems he’d fixed. After, Zane would have you practice on him, learning how to lead for once.

As Zane returned with better scores, so did you with kissing. You’ve learned that touching was just as important as kissing. Zane liked his neck and chest rubbed, while you liked your nape held, controlled. Eventually, the two tutoring sessions a week doubled and became four, then it became six, until Zane found himself visiting you every day, with fluctuating hours depending on his schedule and yours. Though, you two made sure to free up your time to accommodate. Your lessons remained consistent, but Zane’s, however, had gotten longer. It was his excuse to make up for your inexperience.

In reality, he really wanted to be your every ‘first’ as selfish as it was.

You never knew there were so many types of kissing. Zane’s lips on your neck were your favorite. The softness of his mouth. The warmth of his tongue. The nuzzle of his mustache. As much as it was a struggle to hide your erection, he knew. You felt comforted by his words that it was only natural and couldn’t be helped.

And excruciatingly helpless when he confessed, “I’m hard too.”

Zane found you had a surprising knack for french-kissing, and that ultimately became a normalcy between you and him. Once you felt the slip of his tongue exploring your warm mouth, you were a goner. Kissing with just lips didn’t feel right anymore. You needed tongue. You needed his spit covering your tongue. You needed to suck at his own wet flesh. You told him that, through breathless pants, that you needed to explore more of him.

And Zane resonated with an astounding, “Me too,” and left you blue-balled, like always, on the bed.

And like always, you found yourself rubbing to the thought of Zane, wondering if he was doing the same, if he could find a way to during practice.

You would think about the new lessons for the week: kissing positions. It started off simple—making out on the couch, tenderly sharing tongue while you sat on the kitchen countertop. You naturally felt an inclination to touch him, it was the right thing to do, and the longer your hands were on Zane—squeezing his shoulders, caressing those built muscles that had been sculpted through sheer hard work and dedication—all the more ramped up these feelings for him had gotten.

He preferred you sitting on his lap, the perk in your posture meant that you had too—the warmth of his cupped palms around your ass being a constant reminder.

You kept it to yourself, but you were at his disposal.

It sounded naive. Wrong. And to be frank, cliché, but it was fluttering to feel so wanted. A nest of honeybees festering in the pit of your stomach, all because Zane’s attention was on you. Praising you for doing so well, when in actuality, you simply allowed him to ravish your neck that day until he was certain that hickies would blossom across the cavas of your neck overnight. Admiring your tainted skin the next day by topping his bruises with another round of painful, but welcomed sucks, because marks had never looked so beautiful on someone. Thrilling because you were a work in progress, and would be labeled as so until Zane had the final say. Whenever that day would come, you dreaded knowing it could end soon.

Zane kept it to himself, but he liked knowing that he’d branded you as his so easily.

It was common for both of you to end your visitations blue-balled—panting into one another’s mouth. Bodies collapsed onto another on the bed at the sound of Zane’s alarm, and every day, you found it increasingly harder to give into surrendering his body for practice. For his friends. For classes. For parties. He was a popular man, and this was the first time you’d cursed him for it, as much as you had been envious of it from the start.

When Zane unwillingly tore himself away from you, he felt his heart jolt with a spark, that same spark that had been passing from lip to lip, and festering in his veins to yours.

You looked at him with such distraught, a silent plea for him to stay. Disappointment laced in those pure pupils, and emphasized when Zane catalogued the mess he’d made on your body. Wet reminders of his presence on your neck cascaded over your collarbone, and down to the middle of your chest. The first few buttons of your shirt had been unbuttoned—the most visible skin you had bared so far, yet Zane had never felt his balls tightened up for such little promiscuity. It was like you were teasing him, pushing him towards the edge to see until when—just when he would crack and take you as he pleased.

That night would be an aide-memoire that you had captivated Zane, just as much as he had a control on you.

“Relax for me,” he whispered into your lips, ignoring a call from his friend with a toss of his phone before using the same hand to push you onto your back.

“Wait, but the party—“ Cold yet warm, that was how it always felt when you were with him. The draft hit your skin when Zane lifted your shirt to smother your stomach in tiny, fleeting kisses. Your goosebumps conflicted whether they should owe their arrival to the drop in temperature, or to Zane’s worship on your body.

“I know. They can wait. You’ll be quick.” Everything was moving at rapid pace. A beast in Zane suddenly unleashed from as he began removing your pants. An impatience you found yourself unsettled by, yet just as equally as desired with the way you followed every one of his command: to spread your legs wider, to keep your shirt on, to lean back on the pillows, braced on your elbows, to look at him, to watch him.

“Quick with what—“ Your mind was cluttered with so many demands, dazed by the sudden chaos of it all.

He barely gave you a chance to react before pressing his mouth to your hard cock. You instantly puzzled what all of this had amounted to the more he enveloped your length with a sudden gut-punching heat you had never experienced with your entire being. “Zane—“

“Just hold still.” He guided your shudders to his blonde locks, forcing a gratifying grip to his hair before power-washing your cock with his tongue.

Zane thought he heard your moans. Thought he knew them from flesh and bone from the times he’d devour neck and lips like an insatiable scent. But no—these were the sounds he was in desperate search for. Staggered, guttural, straight from the stomach and raw out your throat, as you begged for mercy from the suction of his mouth.

“S-stop, I’m going to c-come in your mouth—“ You desperately pleaded, rock-hard in his mouth and throbbing at the pulse of his tongue. The tip of his muscle flicked endlessly at your slit, beating it with the spit that had been over-compensating for his dry mouth.

“That’s the point.”

You tugged on his hair harder, not away, but towards you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t muster the strength to watch him, and restrain yourself. That was absolutely impossible with the way Zane’s blue eyes locked with you, determination in his gaze that signaled that this had no longer been a demonstration. Sloppily sucking you off. Beating your wet dick off until it was swollen. “W-wait, Zane, stop—I’m really going to—“

Repeating, cycling, spitting, moaning, praising, urging, kissing, repeating until the thick release of your cum satisfied the grit of his throat. Drinking every ounce of purity out of you because it was a sacred resource. Until you felt completely drained with Zane’s throat at your disposal, the salty taste of your loads nearly costing him his sanity had you not pulled him up to ground him with a kiss.

Or maybe his sanity had already been broken, because he pushed the thick of your seed back into your own mouth when you two connected, and it drew out the most beautiful symphony of sounds from you: the shock of it all, the salty and bitter taste embarrassingly spreading thick over your tongue, and then the exaltation, when Zane sucked it right off of you as a way of saying, ‘I’m yours too.’

No, this had been done out of pure love—one that had been kept in reserve for you, and only you.

It was an open secret to how prone you were to bruising. Zane remembered the shock of returning the next day to an onslaught of hickies on your neck. Marks that you comically hid behind a scarf despite the summer season. Bruises that earned him a knowing side-eye when one of your roommates answered the door to let him in.

“Does it look bad?” You instinctively bared teeth, sucking in a gasp when Zane curiously poked at one bruise to the next.

“Sorry. I got carried away.” He remembered that night vividly—beating off his dick to it after practice. He’d left hickies on many people before. For you, he didn’t know why he felt so fascinated by the wear of your skin—the break of skin solely caused by him.

“Not your fault. Kind of the reason why I never played sports.” Popping open the cap of the soothing cream in your hand, you then began to apply the thick mixture onto your wounds. Well, one of them, before Zane took it out of your hand.

“I’ll do it… Let’s take a break today, yeah? We can cuddle, watch a movie? Anything you want.” Ann apology seeped into the kisses he brought around your neck before applying the cream onto your bruises, finishing what you’ve started.

Not too long after, he’d take you into his arms, your head comforted by his chest, while you went on with your free-time: scrolling through social media, laughing at videos that appeared on your feed with him, chatting, kissing, chatting again.

“Do you date a lot?” You asked one day, knowing the answer without Zane having to speak. Though, you really just wanted to hear it from his mouth, to clarify, instead of assuming everything.

“In high school and first year in college, yeah. But it’s been mostly hookups so far.” Zane found that your hands looked perfect in his: smaller yet equally veiny as he compared, then examined your intricately cut nails. Perfectly trimmed with little whites baring.

“Hm…” You nodded, letting him play with your fingers, stroke your hair, kiss at your neck, until your silence was deafening.

It was like Zane read your mind, because he’d spare you that smile of his—one you had been intimidated earlier on in your life before all of this—and your heart felt like it surged over hurdles during your pursuit to him. He laughed in your neck at the glimpse of your pout, and he would tease you with several pokes to your body, introducing various notes of levity until you broke out into a laugh yourself.

“Before you say it, no—you’re not a plaything.” Zane assured with a kiss to your lips. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you’d rather delay the revelation for a little longer.

You never realized that you and Zane barely did this. Getting to know one another was an interest that had been vaulted from the back of your mind as things were ramping up. There were times where you needed it. A break from everything, even if it meant that you’d fall deeper for him. For Zane, it was always on days where he had too many events to juggle on his plate. Venting to you came first, then you’d pacify his frustration at his friends, at his professor, at his teammates, with a semi-homemade meal, and a movie in bed.

You two would compensate for the lack of knowledge about each other by coincidentally pulling all-nighters. Somewhere among one of those nights, you two found the perfect balance of understanding each other from in and out.

“I came to watch you practice the other day…” His hand was roaming under your shirt, lingering over your stomach, and then up your chest to toy with your nipples. You groaned into his mouth at a tug of one of your nubs, mirroring his actions onto his own body. Though, you were always distracted by how big his chest felt under your palm, preferring to explore the muscular plane.

“What—“ Zane pulled away, breathless and baffled at the admission, because who would want to watch him practice? His previous partners never did that for him. “Why didn’t you say hi?” You looked so delectable under him. Swollen lips, tongue peeking to taste at the lingering residue of spit.

“Wouldn’t I throw you off your game?” You ran your hand over his forearm. Memories of Zane’s sweaty muscles bulging as he pinned a guy down coming to mind, thick veins charging the muscle fibers with a pulse. If those veins had telepathic capabilities, you’d assume the erection in your pants was from their own command.

“Don’t think so. I would’ve introduced you to the team too. They would like you.” Another kiss to your lips before he rolled onto his back, switching positions with you to pull you onto his lap.

“Really? I didn’t think I would have anything in common with them!” You’ve gotten more brazen in your touch. Affectionate. You gave Zane’s shirt three tugs, a magical number to him, and he tossed it off his body and to the corner somewhere, removing the obstacle between your lips and his temple of a body.

“Maybe. Maybe not? I don’t know, some of them are struggling in their classes right now. I mentioned to them that you brought my GPA up, so—fuck…” The steady progression from being anxious to greedy was fascinating in Zane’s eyes. He watched you tongue his pink nipple, assaulting one after the other until either had stiffened, and then his armpit—he never thought you would warm up to practically burying yourself into his hairy musk, licking again, inhaling him with awakening ferocity that Zane wanted to tame. After all, that’s what he’d been doing to you, right? Taming the baby pup.

“I have some free time… Just mention my rates…”

“Yeah—god, you drive me crazy.”

You and Zane explored each other effortlessly—no labels, no commitments, simply out your own free will, and maybe that was the reason why Zane cracked.

There was a droning sound in your room, somewhere in the vent, but you’d never noticed the monotonous buzz before until now.

Zane was angry. You could decipher it from his fist, the cushion of mechanical pencil comforting the clasping grasp. You’ve never seen him angry other than being slightly annoyed or inconvenienced, but the tension in your room weighed heavy enough to pull his gaze anywhere else but towards you. No welcoming kiss, no bantering, no playing footsies under the table—only work.

“Zane, what’s wrong—“ Your voice was gentle. Maybe if he would look up, he would soften at the distraught etched onto your face, fine lines wearing you down with worry, with deep dejection because it wasn’t about second-guessing whether you did something wrong.

When he reeled his hand back from your touch, you were absolutely positive that it was your fault.

“Are you done grading yet?” His voice was tempered, methodically calm while his gaze never left the screen of his laptop. Scrolling through an endless pit of web pages.

“Yeah…” You pushed the paper towards him, and he glanced at it.

64%. The lowest marks he’d received since you started tutoring him. He was doing so well. Constant 80s. His peak being nearly a perfect mark, and it was all crumbling because of a man.

He sucked in his teeth, a familiar feeling of contention seething in his stomach.

Two men.

It only happened in his matches, and when it did, it signified his victory.

“Hey, what’s—“ Another attempt quickly stolen with a sudden biting kiss. Rough hands roamed around you, a touch that you had already felt nostalgic for upon Zane’s absence the past few days, and then a bite to your neck, a painful mark, an answer as to why you had felt so deprived of energy in addition. “Z-Zane!”

“Nico and Austin,” Zane muttered bitterly into your clavicle. Your shirt was then unbuttoned at flying speed, and his eyes were searching, pupils dilating upon the scan of your skin. Marks of want, of pleasure, faded into your chest and neck like foam to coffee. “—these are theirs, right?!”

“W-what? No! Are you crazy, what?!” You gulped hard, your neck straining as Zane began to match several bruises to his mouth, renewing the plump skin out of spite, out of greed. Traces of his spit matched the outline of your mark to perfection, yet he continued, relishing himself into the warmth of your skin, to the sounds of your panicked moans as you rubbed at his back to pacify his sudden burst of anger. If they hadn’t made a mark on you, then they will soon. You were his territory, his worshipping ground, and he needed evidence that he’d claim you first. “What’s going on…”

“They…” Embarrassment crept his way up to his neck, then his cheeks as Zane settled upon assessing at what he’d done to you. Windswept, that was what he’d described you as you lay breathless beneath him. He’d missed this, yet it was frightening to know that the withdrawal symptoms from not seeing you every day resulted with an uncontrollable need to ruin you. The calm of your breathing consoled him in meantime, and also lowered his blood pressure a few beats. He refused to release his grip around your wrists, but loosened for your comfort, and breathed, “—keep talking about you. It’s been a few weeks since you started tutoring them, right?”

“Yeah—they usually come together… What do you mean they keep talking about me?” On first impression, you’d assume it was about the way you presented yourself. Guarded and reserved to most, but you always made sure you had good intentions, right? That couldn’t be the right assessment, though. That wouldn’t have made Zane riled up, practically eating at your neck from a comment about how you were standoffish.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeezed past tight lips, forewarning with tense eyes because you were smart. You were supposed to know what he meant by now.

Clueless.

“It can’t be that bad—“

“They’re animals, (M/N). The way they talk about you like you’re a piece of meat.” He muttered bitterly warm at the underside of your jaw. Yet, a part of you felt like he was kissing to the thought of their ridiculing, whatever they were, and you let him do as he pleased, with restrained silence to hear him, to let him know that you were listening, to let him know that it was getting dangerously hard to focus on his words because—you had no idea when, but his hand had slipped inside of your shorts now, massaging you through your boxers.

He continued after carrying you to the bed, his shorts kicked off to the side, your own after, and pressed himself to you, practically into you as you felt him throb against your erection without missing a beat. “—keep talking about how pretty you’d look sucking them off. How they would like to see you struggle taking their cocks inside of your mouth, both at once. As a reward or something, for doing those damn worksheets.”

“I—“ Your mind felt foggy. All of this information was overwhelming you, plus the friction of your cock against Zane’s much larger erection held your mind hostage, harassing it with violent yet pleasurable rubs as you felt the tip of your cock constantly brush against the scratchy fabric. This was new, and you needed to focus and fixate on Zane’s worries. “Zane…”

“They’d blow their loads inside of your mouth. Over your face. Inside of your ass—“ Zane grunted hard, stroking a hand over your head while rocking into you with his broad body, with a rhythm led by greed and lust. The weight of his motion reflected onto the creaking of the bed springs, and his eyes searched looming repugnance. “—wouldn’t shut up about that ass of yours. How it filled out those shorts of yours so nicely. How they wanted to breed you with their cum, one after another, then another round, and another, until your body had given itself up.”

None. You were fucking hard, throbbing and solid as he rocked into you, polished his cock with yours, and your eyes—he could see how much you’d want that fantasy to come true.

“Zane, I wouldn’t—“ You whimpered when he pulled your boxers off, freeing your embarrassing boner for him to delight his eyes on. You stripped yourself completely for the second time, top to bottom. It triggered the memory of baring it all for the first time, where you received your first blowjob. You watched in silence, in between hot pants, as Zane stripped his muscular body of his clothing, one by one. Like a performance, a stage that was approaching its curtain call, because you knew Zane only had patience for one more lesson to teach you. Fuck me, please…

“And you know what’s worse? I thought they were just playing around, that typical locker room talk. Told them you were a virgin, never even kissed a boy in your life, and that it would all be too much for you…” You shuddered, feeling the warmth of his eyes analyzing you like a scanner, taking copies of your body and inking it into his mind. The sink of your stomach as Zane caressed your body downwards, the gentle hairs below your belly button, all delectably leading to the unkempt hairs of your pubic area, surrounding the twitch of your cock.

He could take you right now, but Zane liked playing with his food. Loved seeing the sweat form on your forehead and on your neck; loved watching your chest rise and sink when he wrapped a hot hand around your cock; loved hearing you whimper when his large cock joined his fist, stroking you and him together as one large mass.

“And you could practically see them come alive from that. Drooling, rubbing their dicks through their pants, because all they want to do is break you. Wreck that tight little hole of yours. Make your first time memorable. Two cocks fucking inside of you. Who could say that they got double-penetrated on their first time?” You could feel his heavy balls jump. He wanted to see that too, didn’t he? To see you wrecked like this. After all, he was a saint for holding back for as long as he did.

“And god—baby, would you call me a monster if I wanted that too? To see you take cock for the very first time? To see you crying out about how it wasn’t going to fit? But you’re a good boy, right? You’d relax for me? And take my cock in? No complaints?” Fingers. You could feel him rubbing at your rim when he brought your legs over his shoulders, one on each side. It was wet with spit, cold against your pucker as his cock jumped at the thought. Your own dick leaking pre-cum in turn.

“N-no—would want you to.” You gulped, a grit in your throat you tried to pacify. Then, a grit in your mind, because you reached over to replace Zane’s hand over your cock and his with your own. God, he was a handful. You could barely wrap around it with your fingers, let alone both of your rubbing cocks. But you tried, and your efforts were met with a shuddering moan from Zane, a shiver rolling up his spine tenfold compared to his hand. “I think I can take it—I’ll be good. I promise—“

“You’ll be good? You’re smart, (M/N). There’s no ‘thinking’ when it comes to this. Only an ‘I can’ and an ‘I can’t.’” His blonde locks hovered over his eyes as they casted downwards, addicted to the way your pucker kissed at the pad of his finger. Enamored of your beautiful hand holding his cock and yours as tightly as if your sanity had depended on the two throbbing erections. His hips buckled when you began thumbing at his slit, spreading your pre-cum with his, and that was when he knew he was devoted to pleasing you—when he pushed a lubed finger inside of you without warning, watching the way you struggled to swallow the length of his finger. “Which is it?”

You broke out into a staggered moan. The introduction of his digit collapsing the gears in your mind, having been conquered by nothing but an empire of pure lust, and you resisted, with a tension around the first knuckle.

“I-I can!” A guttural gasp when his finger began maneuvering inside of you, working you open little by little. Past his cuticle, then he would pull out. Then down to the first knuckle, you would then pucker. Then plunged deep to where the webbing of his fingers met, and you would gape. He cycled through with little alternations, fingering you while providing your cock and his the warmth and friction they desperately plead, stroking in sync.

“You can, what?” Two fingers inside of you, your hole sticky and slick with a generous amount of lube, pistoling past initial limitation. You shut your eyes with strain when Zane pushed a third into your heated hole. He had you holding your legs up now, splayed out with your feet in the air as he flattened himself onto his stomach to watch your hole with an inquisitive, yet lewd mind. Every now and then, he’d pull himself out to taste you, sucking his fingers clean, then endeavoring upon his curiosity with focused licks to your hole, flicking and swirling around your rim, then entering to dig inside of you.

“O-Oh, god—I-I can—“ Your cock throbbed at the sight of his imposing body—flushed with heat and sweat, splotches of red on his body from where you grasped and held onto him previously. You stilled, but your hands moved to tangle within Zane’s full locks, pulling, yanking, tugging, at the magical plowing your hole was taking from his wet tongue. “C-Can take your cock, Zane—“ Upon those final words, he ended his rimming with a loud slurp, then a sudden splat of spit to your hole—perceptive to the lube drying out on your body.

It was grand. Watching Zane’s broad body crawl back into position, onto his knees, then forward as he lined your smaller body with fleeting kisses. Kisses to the tip of your dripping cock, to your happy trail, to the supple skin of your stomach and chest, to your nipples, to your neck, then finally to your lips, where he spent majority of his delight upon. His questing fingers snuck to tend to his muscular cock, applying a thick amount of lube in midst, a mess on the sheets you’d figure you could later scold him for, and pressed the slick, wet head to your heated rim. You whimpered at the imposing taught, your hole puckering obscenely in apprehension.

“Going to make love to you,” Zane mumbled into the kiss, the other hand fondling your cock to ease the tension in your ass, in your legs, in your back, in the grasp you have on his shoulders. “Gonna make sure you feel full with my cock. Make you think about nothing but my cock. Make you mine with my cock. Make your hole ruined with my cock.”

“Ruin me…” You said with a pleading whine. Your hands caressed his large back, squeezing whatever came to your palm and under your fingertips, and you gazed into Zane’s promising eyes, your own imploring in case he were to turn on his words.

The scent of desire filled the air—one more yearning kiss, to quench the drought of your throat, and Zane loved you like this. Folded in between his embrace, his arms tucked around you as a safety net, rubbing your hole with his cocked, making small circles, your feet over his shoulders—he blessed a kiss on both ankles—quivering, fear and want dancing in the light of your eyes, and he finally pushed, slowly until the head of his cock slotted in.

Your chest lift upon the intrusion as you strain your head forward and groan with distraught. “O-oh, f—“

“Relax… Just relax…” He was barely in, his cock almost slipping out as you sealed yourself shut and kept pushing himself out, but Zane resisted, countering with a persistent push until you’d open yourself up for him again, allowing him to enter you a centimeter more. “You got this…” His words were comforting, the kisses on your chest and neck soothing the burn beneath you, and you loosened bit by bit, though with difficulty.

“M-mm, u-ugh…” It was lewd, fucking erotic with the whimpers that came out of your mouth, the heat remounting from their bodies reflecting with a fog on your glasses. Zane didn’t want to, but he had to shut you up with another loving kiss. Another peep out of you would’ve unscrewed the armor that had been holding him back from ravishing you completely.

Your scent drifted to Zane, potent and intoxicating, and it was upon impulse when Zane decided that he needed to be selfish, and take you for himself. Your entire groan tingled, the pressure on your opening suddenly too harsh, and your hole protested, the ring of muscle clenching tight when he pushed in more of his cock. “Need you, need you so fucking bad. Need to fuck you. Need to make love to that sweet, tight hole of yours.” Words spilled out of your mouth, his tongue sloppily tasting the corner of your mouth, then chin, and his cock fondled your balls and cock, squeezing, tugging, stroking, because he had to over-compensate. Zane was strong. Determined. And broken. Your body defied any reason to refuse his cock in any longer, opening for him, and inviting hm in upon the force of one long, deep, and guttural thrust.

“That’s it. I know, baby. I know. It hurts. I know… Just… Fuck… Relax for me…” His words were gentle, almost cooing when you instantly caught your breath, and then paused his thrusts with your hands on his toned thighs. Even so, the undeniable proof of your arousal, the throbbing and twitching of your cock, spilling thick strings of sticky pre-cum, was the sole evidence that allowed him to plunge himself deeper inside of you, past your resistance, until his pelvis met your ass. “There we go… Not so bad, right? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight…”

“M-mm, full—“ You felt so full, the discomforting pleasuring hitting you like a lightning bolt when Zane pulled himself completely out to watch your hole deliciously gape, then flushed himself back inside of you with one thrust. Your ass felt like it couldn’t handle any more of Zane’s cock. You clenched tight around his thick girth, feeling the veins throb with imposing lust, feeling his balls jolt and twitch as you squeezed even tighter when he began officially thrusting, whimpering louder.

“So full, right? Your ass taking my cock right now. God, I wish you could see it, baby…” Zane had brought himself up, his posture straightened to feast his eyes upon the sight of the tight ring swallowing his thick cock whole. He was practically salivating, the self-restraint he has had unlocking with every thrust, kissing at your ankles, your feet, as your legs remained hooked over his shoulders. His muscular body—sweating bullets, draining yet feeding him with heat while he flexed his stomach upon moving his hips against you. He made you feel loose and hollow, and your cock agreed with a desperate plea to be touched. Some form of friction around its veins, and you fulfilled it with a wrap of your hand, stroking yourself to the lewd sight before you, to the beastly groans Zane thickened the air with, to the smell of musk and sweat radiating from bonded bonds, to the glorious drilling your hole was enduring. There was wild fury in Zane’s face, of strength and passion, thick veins surging through his arms, biceps, neck, as he held the lower-half of your body higher, and fucked into you. You feared him as you wanted him, taking him like you had promised.

“Z-Zane! God, you feel so—g-good!” Fierce and untamed, Zane powered into you upon that confession. A slur of sounds you’d make, beautiful in his ears, embarrassing to your own, but Zane made you feel so wanted, so loved, that you didn’t mind baring it all for him. He downed your moans with a kiss, a gulp, a sloppy open-mouthed kiss as he was desperate to hear more of you, licking inside of your mouth while he stretched you open and filled you with his cock. “H-harder—Want your c-cock…” You’d give it to him, delegating those pretty whimpers that he’d happily starve for and feeding it to him tenfold. Whimpers, grunts, and moans ripped out of your mouth while tiny tremors and tingles explode from your overfull guts. You were taking him. Taking his cock. Taking him like a good boy. Wetness trickled out from his pounding, a leak of lube splattering upon the connecting impact of Zane’s hips to your ass.

“So good. That’s my good boy. Fucking take it. Good boy. Fuck. Take my cock. You like it, don’t you? You love being filled with my thick cock, don’t you? Been thinking about this since we’ve met, haven’t you?” Zane reminded you as your eyes rolled back in their sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible. It felt like a punishment for asking him to do all of this with you—this mutual tutoring. But god, if it truly was, you needed to find more ways to make his blood boil.

“C-close—“ That was how you always jerked your cock off. Rubbing the sloppy, swollen tip of it against the palm of your hand. Rough and smooth, you liked it that way. You would accidentally rub at the most sensitive spot at your cockhead, ramping up closer to your inevitable climax, and that was what you did in this current moment. You rubbed your cock to the heavy weight of Zane’s dick inside of you, the tickle of his mustache on your lip, the crooked, fucked-out position of your glasses, the tantalizing depth his cock had reached inside of you. Zane’s hand skimmed down your chest, stopping over your nipple, where he tugged and pinched with a thumb and a forefinger. Close. You were so fucking close. One hand reached up to Zane to hold his nape and keep him from pulling away from you—because you needed him to watch you, to see you crumbling upon his very eyes.

“Come… Keep stroking that cock. So close, baby. I’m so fucking close, hm? Look so beautiful—god, I could do this all day. Could spend forever doing this with you. Fucking your ass. Making love to that hole… Making love to you.” Every word that came out of his mouth was a spell that took you higher and higher to your climax. He had his hands around your hips now, his biceps bulging as he powered you down onto his thrusts, and right there—Zane felt it, you felt it. You both hissed when his slick crown dipped to your sealed entrance, your prostate. A little more. Just a little more and—you felt him.

“S-shit, Zane! R-right there—“ You choked out.

With a subtle angle change of Zane’s hips, you felt his throbbing cock struck your prostate like it was rock, mined it as it you’d been concealing gold and life’s greatest treasure from the world. In a way, you did because you unleashed an unholy moan that sent tremors to the goosebumps on Zane’s body. He’d branded you now, ironing you with his cock, deep plunges deep into your hole, into your prostate. If his hickies was not enough proof of his devotion, you were convinced with the absolute euphoria Zane had sent your body in with the weight of his cock. You thought you knew ecstasy, thought you knew what it was like to be pleasured and fulfilled—but this was an entirely different level.

“Shit, baby. I need to come inside—“ He was ruined. Zane was fucking ruined. HIs hips on autopilot. Large, rough hands roamed your body, squeezing whatever came into his palm. He helped you in stroking your cock with one hand, the other playing with your nipples, or squeezing your waist, or squeezing your throat. He didn’t know what to do. He was delirious, fucked out of his mind, and all that mattered was that it was with you.

“P-Please—Come inside me, please—“ You managed to gather yourself and plead with him. As if he would ever deny that opportunity. But you needed Zane to know that you desperately wanted him just as much as he did. You wanted him in there. You wanted his loads desperately sticking inside of you, filling and keeping you warm even if his cock had abandoned your hole.

Your pupils were blown out, Zane’s blue eyes glowing as the size of his shaft stretched your flesh out, stirring the inside of your hole, kissing your prostate with every thrust. He held you close, arms clasped around your neck to fold you toward him. He had you whimpering with overwhelming sensations, the stretch of your legs and back forgiving because Zane was deep inside of you, turning you in and out like he had promised, overpowering any pain in your body while he circled his hips. Upon watching him, you’d never seen someone looked so pleased, so determined, impaling you with his cock over and over, brushing your body with his rough hands, and on the nth stroke of your cock, so relieved as he indulged on your endurance for as long as he could, before spilling his thick load inside of you. Not a second after, you chased after him in pursuit, your cum sprouting from your cock in six shots, Zane doubling that amount in your ass.

You both shared a deep, guttural moan, wallowing in your shared orgasm with a long, gratifying kiss while Zane continued to dump himself inside of you, panting, refusing to catch up on his breath, and stripping you the chance to do the same as he began moving his hips again. Languidly for the rest of time, but you felt his cum pushing deeper into you, warming up your guts with the help of his cum-covered cock. Your body was at his disposal, and he seized the opportunity to remind you that it was no longer your body, but his.

“You okay?” Slowly, he unfolded your body until it was flattened with the weight of his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his muscular chest slick with sweat pressing to yours, slowly but surely coming down from its high. He was unwilling to pull himself out of you, the warmth of your hole around him nearly lulling him to sleep. Exhaustion in his eyes, but he mustered up enough strength to take care of you, stroking your hair back after licking your cum off your body in midst of repositioning.

You kissed him again, wanting to taste yourself off his tongue, and Zane accepted that as an answer, laughing into your mouth. “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better tutor.” You mumbled sleepily, hiding the blush in your cheeks into his shoulder while fatigue struck the muscles in your body until it begged for a rest. You wrapped your arms around him, embracing his large body into your own. His warm smell, his soothing voice, his adoring touch—you couldn’t fathom going back to a life without Zane in your life, teaching you about anything and everything, just as you did for him. It made your chest swell at the thought, your heart twisting itself until it began to hurt. But Zane kissed you once more, something that felt perpetual, and you’d calm.

“What are you doing for the summer?” He whispered, nuzzling his mustache against your cheek like you liked. He fixed the crook of your glasses with a twist, impressed by how they hadn't fallen off the entire time he was fucking into you.

“Working… Tutoring’s still in session for the summer classes, so I’ll be here.” You nodded, and he hummed in response. There was a brief silence, you’d reckon that could hear him thinking if you had the skills to.

“So… you know how I wanted you to meet the team? Maybe we could do that over the summer. What do you think? Think it’s only right to introduce my boyfriend to my best friends.” Nibbling on your ear now. You squirmed, ticklish as the tiny bristles of his mustache brushed against places that had never been touched. His smile only made it worse, the curve of the hairs grazing over your lobe and the shell of your ear.

“I’m your boyfriend?” It was impossible to stop yourself from smiling from ear to ear. The label made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

“You didn’t think I did this all because I wanted to have sex with you, did you? I mean, it’s been months—“

“No, no—I was just…” You shook your head to shrug off even trying to reason with your confusion. “What about Nico and Austin? They were being kind of—“

Deceitful fingers spidered over the span of your belly. Lower, and lower. A roguish smile slowly formed on his face as he began fondling your sensitive flaccid cock. He then turned to you, gently pressing your nose to his.

“We can talk about that when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for—“

“You’ll see.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#zane phillips x male reader #zane phillips x reader #zane phillips x m!reader #zane phillips x you #zane phillips x y/n #zane phillips imagine #zane phillips fic #bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #gay reader #male reader insert #male reader x male reader #nou.fics

2K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

Text

Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.

— Dismissed.

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem.

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.

— Sir? Is everything alright?

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.

— I thought you’d heard me the first time.

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now?

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.

— You forgot the milk.

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.

— Ja. Bra is next.

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.

— Braves Mädchen…good girl.

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language.

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.

— How do you feel?

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.

— My pleasure, Schatzen.

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.

#cod #yandere konig #konig x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #konig #konig x you

4K notes · View notes