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minisugakoobies · 1 year ago

Text

Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no?

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye.

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate.

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb.

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide.

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch.

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that.

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.”

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through.

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light.

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do.

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.”

“I live here.”

“So that’s fine, then?”

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?”

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?”

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall.

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard.

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky.

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?”

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon.

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.”

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?”

You nod. The stranger hums.

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.”

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?”

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Fair.”

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off.

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?”

He raises an eyebrow, nods.

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks.

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?”

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.”

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.”

“Thanks for the tokes.”

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute -

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?”

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative.

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.”

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.”

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.”

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.”

“And I need that?”

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window.

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away.

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner.

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to.

“Again?”

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight.

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages.

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick.

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?”

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way.

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!”

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.”

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San.

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in.

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace.

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.”

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares.

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his.

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?”

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts -

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door.

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag.

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?”

“A brownie.”

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?”

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door.

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half.

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite.

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to.

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?”

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.”

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.”

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.”

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now.

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.”

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat?

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.”

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.”

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.”

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof.

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him?

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?”

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.”

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment.

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.”

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you.

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before.

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation.

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong.

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle.

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?”

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.”

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation.

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again.

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used.

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit.

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again.

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it.

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire.

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips.

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?”

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul.

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss.

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out.

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!”

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell.

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks.

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad.

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!”

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly.

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before.

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away.

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative.

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly.

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back.

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core.

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights.

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know.

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.”

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble. “As soon as you tell me your name.”

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!”

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time.

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting.

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure.

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then -

He stops.

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch.

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!”

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.”

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it?

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs.

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist.

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?”

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin.

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.”

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary:

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over.

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth.

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly.

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.”

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word.

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name.

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan.

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face.

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.”

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth.

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.”

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while.

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more.

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was.

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?”

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile.

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?”

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong fanfic #fic: hideaway

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hyunnie04 · 10 months ago

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muse

hwang hyunjin x reader, fluff | m.list

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: you can't decide what to give hyunjin for his birthday. a/n: very self indulgent theme/fic!! i like to draw myself so i thought i'd write about it for his birthday :> i apologize for being a bit late, irl obligations have been kicking my ass lately i'm sorry my hyune but i hope you guys like it! T-T

march was a month full of new beginnings. the year was only starting, january and february flying by like a breeze. remnants of winter still clung in the air and on the branches of the trees, pillowing them with the softness of white snow. it was also getting warmer, the chill no longer having its harsh bite and welcoming the inevitable pinks and greens of spring to come. and for you, new beginnings also meant taking on projects that you never thought you would be able to do.

hyunjin's birthday was only a few days away, just a little less than a week from now.

you've spent the entire afternoon in a panic after the realization, racking your brain for any ideas, thinking what you could possibly do for his present only to come up empty handed. buying a gift for him is certainly the easier option and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, seeing as hyunjin was the type of person to appreciate whatever you give him, be it big or small, expensive or not. it was just the matter of wanting to surprise him with a gift that he most likely doesn’t already have.

you sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling in thought. your eyes silently wander towards the painting that hung on the wall of your tiny apartment.

it was painted by hyunjin himself, a bouquet of your favorite flowers that he had given you for your own birthday. you always loved staring at it, earning a place in your favorite corner of the room.

you often stare at it, delving into the intricacies of each brush stroke, how the colors come together in harmony, the symbolism and sentimentality behind it all, and just how much love was poured into making it. hyunjin truly had a talent in capturing the likeness and essence of his subjects, even the simplest ones.

it was almost tradition, how he makes his closest family and friends paintings when it was their birthday or when there was a special occasion. he used his oil paints that you've become familiar with, the dozens of tubes and pots of color messily strewn all across his little studio back at his dorm.

it was a such thoughtful gesture, painting that was. taking his time out of his day to make something out of nothing, showing that he truly cared about the person. whenever you would visit him on his days off, he was always immersed in his craft. adept fingers swiping over charcoal, hands dipping into paint, a sight you always love seeing. you still remember the photo you took secretly of him in his studio, blissfully painting the night away.

you drum your hands on the arm rest, returning to brainstorm for ideas, still in deep thought. and then it all suddenly clicked.

you have always admired hyunjin and his work, so why not make him one in return?

he was always giving others gorgeous pieces of art, he certainly deserved to have his own. you were no picasso and certainly no hyunjin, but the act of gift giving has always been your favorite way of showing your love.

you had a basic grasp of how the medium was used, having watched hyunjin more than enough times. the techniques he had taught you during one of your art sessions together might come in handy as well. the one and only problem was that it left you with such little time to finish it. oh well, it was better to start late than never.

the next day, you picked up and gathered the necessary materials from the art supply shop you knew hyunjin frequented, recognizing the different kinds of paints, sizes and types of canvases, and brushes that he likes to use. you laid them out on your living room floor upon arriving home, finally starting on your little project.

the remainder of the days leading up to his birthday were spent awake during ungodly hours into the night, full of endless trials and errors, scrapped ideas and tons of caffeine. your living room became your makeshift studio, a tarp laid down the center to catch the unavoidable mess you surely would be making. learning a completely different and unfamiliar medium from what you were used to was difficult, but you were determined and your mind was set.

hyunjin was getting worried. it had been a few days since he last saw you, nonetheless heard anything. he understood that the two of you were quite busy people, not always finding the time to talk. but after five missed calls and maybe a dozen texts over the span of two days and no reply? he was ill at ease.

maybe he was overreacting, but he knew that you would've at least sent something to acknowledge his texts. he decided to ask his friends about your whereabouts, asking if anyone had contact with you, only earning head shakes in return.

"have you tried going to their place?" chan asks the ravenette, leaning his back on the dance practice room’s mirrored walls. hyunjin huffs, mouth forming into a slight pout, shaking his head no. practice was getting more challenging as the comeback and schedules started to pile up, his attendance becoming crucial.

"you can go later, we don't have anything scheduled for tomorrow." his hyung removes his cap, fluffing his curls underneath. hyunjin breathes out a sigh of relief, sending him a quick thank you.

the older of the two nods in understanding, reaching a hand out to hyunjin upon standing on his feet. back to practice they went.

it was the night before his birthday. getting stubborn paint off your brushes was the worst, is what you've learned these past several days of non-stop painting. even with the appropriate solvent, the paint can and is still clinging stubbornly onto its fibers; leaving you in the bathroom sink to scrub them tediously under soap and some warm water.

your hands start to ache with all the scrubbing, perhaps growing tired as well from the painting, but you'd like to think that the momentary pain was worth it. the composition of it was finally starting to come together. the work flow became easier once you figured out a concept and a theme you were happy with, inspiration and motivation coming in effortlessly now. it only needed some last few touches, you could only hope he would like it as much as you ended up liking it too.

after the brushes were cleaned to the best of your abilities, you pat them dry, leaving them on the counter for the time being.

"y/n? are you home?" your hands still at the sound of the front door opening. it was undeniably hyunjin's voice.

you and hyunjin lived apart despite dating for quite a long while. it was a mutual agreement that it would be more convenient for the two of you to live separately, his job requiring him to live closer to his place of work. you gave him a spare key so he could come by whenever he liked, but you didn’t expect him at all to drop by today.

you originally thought nothing of it for a moment, even brushing it off. but then the panic started to set in. he would see it right away, the canvas sitting right in front of the living room with no cloth to cover it. if you go out now, you might have a chance of covering it up before he finds out.

rushing out of the bathroom after wiping your hands dry, you've quickly noticed how it had suddenly gone quiet. you peak around the corner, seeing him standing idly in the middle of your living room, still unaware of your presence.

it was too late. you see the familiar ebony locks greet you upon arriving. his mouth practically hanging open as he stares at the easel facing him, winter coat slung heavily on his left arm.

"surprise?" you flush upon seeing his head whip towards your figure, leaned against the arch of the doorway. it was also a little embarrassing, not having the time to clean up.

"is...that me?" he says in quiet disbelief. you can’t quite decipher if his reaction was good or bad but you nod, coming up to stand beside him. he stares at the canvas once more, no doubt taking in the details of it. you start to feel a little anxious under his gaze, silently wondering if he likes it.

"it's not done yet, that's why it looks a little rough." you pause, hesitation lacing your voice. he would eventually find out, having already seen it. “it was supposed to be your surprise birthday present.” is what you ended up saying, speech meek and low, barely audible.

his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he turns his eyes back to you. a noticeable redness staining his cheeks.

“wow,” he breathes out, tilting his head closer to gaze on the finer details. hyunjin pauses for a moment before replying. “this is beautiful.” his voice light, feathery. his fingertips, slender and lithe, hovering above as if to trace it. relief washed over you hearing him say it, your nerves easing and cheeks warming in return.

“you think so?” you purse your lips before smiling gratefully at him, noting the masking tape still plastered on its borders and small parts of it still unblended but thank him earnestly nonetheless.

“i figured since you always make people art on their birthday," you took to move to the couch, the ache in your body starting to take its toll. "i thought i'd give back and make you one too."

hyunjin was, in short- moved. the portrait was of him sitting in his art studio, the sun falling and spilling on his form peaking through the windows. although his elegantly curved back was turned and it was impossible to see his face, it was unmistakable that it was him.

he was truly not expecting anything, he was just happy with the prospect of just being with you on his special day. the thoughtfulness, sentimentality, and affection that came with making gifts with him in mind, he didn’t think it was possible to love you more than he already did. his eyes are lost in yours, the contours of his handsome face highlighted by the dim lights of your living room.

“i know it's bad but-”

hyunjin doesn’t let you continue, pulling you into a sudden kiss, throwing his coat on the couch haphazardly. your immediate response was to wrap your hands around his neck, hands wandering up and towards his hair. you could feel his smile on his mouth as he kisses you, grabbing the nape of your neck to steady your form. the kiss is intoxicating, feeling the love upon his soft movements, his warmth contrasting the chill from outside.

when he parts from you, he’s giddy, and jumping around like the happiest ferret you’ve ever seen. the wisps of hair fall to his temple, framing his beautiful face. “thank you, darling.”

“even if it’s not done yet- i love it,” he presses another kiss to the side of your mouth. “so much.” you could only laugh in response, completely flustered and enamored by his reaction.

hyunjin pulls you towards his chest, both arms locking around your shoulders. you could smell the perfume he always likes to wear. “is this why you weren’t picking up your phone?”

“my phone?” you pat your pockets in search, only to find it missing. your mind must’ve slid away, not knowing at all where it was but you could search for it later. “oh, yeah. m’ sorry.” the apology is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he hums, his worries fading. you thought he was going to let you go, but he retaliates by resuming to press more kisses into you.

“okay, okay! thank you. i’m glad you like it.” you untangle his long arms from your body in order to stand up while hyunjin watches you do so, curiosity in his eyes. you already miss the warmth he radiated.

“but, technically-” you start by grabbing the easel and placing it near the wall and out of his view, grabbing the stray tubes of paint off the floor and putting them away in their basket. “it’s still not your birthday.”

his plump lips form into a pout as he continues to watch you clean up. “and i’m not quite done with it yet so you have to wait.” placing a quick ‘boop’ to his nose, you head to the bathroom to freshen up for bed.

hyunjin checks his wrist watch as he follows you suit, his white teeth poking out. his arms catch you once again, wrapping you from behind. "it's 12."

amused by his antics, you let out another laugh before turning around in his hold to face him again, pressing a kiss on his soft lips.”in that case, i’ill finish it as soon as possible and-”

"happy birthday, my dearest."

please reblog or leave a comment if you like my work! it motivates me to keep writing ♡ all works are written by hyunnie04, please do not repost on other sites.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff

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adventuringblind · 11 months ago

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She's My Princess

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Daniel Spoils his girl... That's it. That's the plot.

Warnings: Soft dom Daniel, Daddy kink, BDSM, Voyeurism (if you squint), bondage, age-play (again, if you really look hard enough), choking

Notes: This is my happy place, right here. Mildly self-indulgent but all fanfiction is so I don't care. I hope the requester likes it!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

This side of Daniel is something she sees often. He's a soft person and treats her as such. Dotes on her like she's a porcelain doll.

He zips the back of her dress and ties her shoes. He carries her bag to the car and buckles her in. It makes her feel small, entirely to warm inside.

"I'm sorry we have to go out tonight." His plan had been to ravish her until she couldn't think. Until they got a surprise call from Max saying he's in town for a couple days and wants to get dinner.

It had been over a month since they saw Max last, and Daniel had only said yes after he talked with her about it.

Daniel, still very intent on keeping his promise, has been not letting her do anything for herself all day long. She's been spoiled far more than necessary, but every ounce of insecurity only made Daniel more intent.

"It'll be nice to see everyone!" She assures. "I could care less about what we do as long as you're there."

"How did I get so lucky?" She blushes under his gaze and tries to look away, but Daniel's fingers foil her. "If you're good for dinner, I'll make this whole thing up to you later. Sound good?"

"Yes daddy."

He pats her cheek. "That's my girl."

He holds her hand as they walk inside. He pulls her chair out for her at the table of drivers.

Daniel makes small talk with the guys and the WAGS that had come with. She tries, but her mind is focused on Daniels hand sneaking up her thigh.

She tries to ignore when he rubs a finger over the thin lace of her panties. She's mid-sentence and ends up stuttering, but she manages to pull herself together. Daniel teases her about the blush on her face.

He keeps up his antics until dessert when he slips a finger into her, obnoxiously wet cunt. She, not so gracefully, chokes on her water. She makes not a sound after. It's not like they've never done this before. Daniel's just not making this any easier with the way he keeps calling her a good girl in her ear.

It feels like an eternity until they can leave. When Daniel finally helps her out of her chair and guides her to the car.

The drive home takes an interesting turn when Daniel has her sucking him off while he's driving. He's skilled in multitasking. Specifically in the art of fucking her throat and keeping his eyes on the road.

Daniel paints her mouth white during a particularly long light. She gets satisfaction in knowing this is what she does to him. That he's desperate enough to fuck her mouth while he drives because he can't wait.

The Aussie hauls her into the house and throws her onto the bed like she weighs nothing. Which is quite the compliment in her eyes. Her body, in her opinion, should not be that easy to carry.

"You did so good tonight, Princess." He kisses her, open mouthed and dirty. He sucks on her tongue and makes a whimpering mess out of her.

Her literally rips her dress off. A whispered promise to buy her a new one is said against her chest. Right before he swirls his tongue around her nipple, alternating between each side. His hands press into her upper back, pulling her further into him.

"Daddy, please - need you."

Daniel moves lower and settles between her thighs. He makes a point to blow on her on her before flattening his tongue and licking upwards.

Her hands find his hair. An attempt to ground her thrashing body. It makes no difference. Daniel still has to pin her hard enough to leave bruises.

His teeth graze over her clit. He sucks on her in the way that drivers her insane. Until the only word she knows is his name.

"Daddy - need to - pleassseee-" Her eyes roll back into her head as Daniel double down on his efforts. The permission is non-verbal in the way he taps her thigh a few times, allowing no break.

She releases onto his tongue. It's wet and it's everywhere and Daniel cleans every bit of it with his mouth.

He launches upwards to kiss her. She can taste herself on his shiny lips. He doesn't give her a break. Three fingers are jammed into her and she wails.

"You're doing so good baby girl. Taking everything I give you." The sounds he's making with her pussy are obscene. His fingers curl upward, sending her body spiraling.

A hand puts pressure around her throat. She sucks in as much air as she can, but inevitable her vision starts to go dark. Daniel opens and closes his hand in perfectly timed intervals, keeping her right on the edge of coherency.

"Cum for me princess, you can do it. We've gone for more rounds than this before."

Daniel has to pin her with effort this time around. He doesn't stop talking, the roughness of his voice rings through her ears. "Such a good girl for me. Just gorgeous like this, a right fucking messy slut, aren't you."

Daniel moves off the bed to get the rest of his clothes off. She cries real tears at the loss. Still to disoriented to know where he is. "Oh baby, I'm still here. You feeling fuzzy? Needy for my cock?" Embarrassment and shame are nothing to her as her tongue rolls out of her mouth and her head nods yes.

Daniel ties a rope around her wrists and secures it to the headboard. He chuckles as she watches him with glassy eyes and no resistance, just dead weight as he tries to adjust her position.

It takes entirely to long for Daniel to get inside of her. For her to feel his body pressed against her. His hips rutting into her, desperate and dominating. She couldn't fight him if she tried.

The pace he sets is relentless. The free hand not holding him up is rubbing at her clit. His mouth close enough to to brush up against hers, but he's still talking to her. Keenly aware of what his voice does to her. She's not sure what he's even saying, aside from that she's a good girl; his princess.

His teeth latch onto her throat, biting and sucking away at it until she thinks she might actually be bleeding onto his tongue. "Mine, all mine. My perfect little girl."

His thrusts are getting sloppy. She's been pushed past the point of overstimulated and isn't sure she can come again. "Let go for me baby, I know you can. I wanna feel you tighten around me. Can you do that for daddy?"

She's crying again. She cums so hard that it hurts her muscles. The line between pain and pleasure is blurred once again as Daniel wraps his hand around her throat again, completely cutting off her air.

She's choking on her scream. Barely aware that Daniel is painting her insides for the second time tonight. There are no thoughts aside from him.

Calming down is harder than expected. She's still twitching when Daniel is untying her. His hands caress her sides and praise her until she's able to breathe again.

Daniel carries her to the bathroom and gets them cleaned up. She's entirely to out of it, still partially crying and refusing to let go of his hand.

"Feeling good still, princess?" She hums happily as Daniel tucks them into bed. "Go to sleep baby, I'll be here when you wake up."

She curls up on top of his chest. Daniels arms wrapped around her to keep her from falling off him. "I love you, my perfect princess."

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uthseikoashx-goingmyway · 11 months ago

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things in IWTV season 2 i'd lose my mind if it actually happens (or when. because some of those things will happen.). sorry for the mistakes btw

1. Claudeleine romantic relationship

Claudia finally having a vampire lover she can be herself with. the romantic & sexual tension. the heart to heart Louis and Claudia would have before changing Madeleine. the yearning. the tragic ending. the change of dynamics in the De Pointe du Lac family. the disruption of it all.

2. an exploration of Armand's relationship to religion, faith and God

specially in 2022. past religious crisis. how he articulates his vampire nature, his faith and his despair. lots of hints of TVA. God and art. religion, Armand and Louis. his religion (conversion from being christian to being muslim in this universe? if so, why?). "i serve, a God," would you mind to develop?

3. dramatic irony about Daniel's past and Devil's Minion

the rent boy. Daniel actually realising he had been a dick about that. "oh." after understanding the irony of it all. Armand talking in riddles and hinting at something Daniel is totally ignorant of. young Daniel's life and messy, loving and weird relationship with Armand. some activism. 2022 Daniel getting old, sicker and sicker. laughs. angst. tension. yearning. longing stares. petty remarks. revelations.

4. Loumand complex relationship

the love and the suffering. how they are both deeply attached to each other. how they show their care. the place Lestat holds right in the middle. how they deal with Claudia's death. what Louis really thinks about it. the tension. the yearning. how their relationship actually developed. the extent of Louis' memory alteration and how it plays a role into their dynamics. the after: how Armand helped Louis. messy divorce vibes. petty moves. to what extent their relationship is doomed. how one person can love several persons and in different ways, and how complex and delicate it is.

5. The Groan™

what is that. a metaphor for sexual arousal? Lestat scratching the walls? Rashid trapped? some clues. what the fuck.

6. Antoinette alive and kicking

and coming back right on time for the trial, because it would be 1) so fucking funny 2) utterly tragic, considering Claudia would be killed for killing nobody.

7. amazing outfits

amazing outfits

8. lots of french

i'm french

9. Claudia and Armand's relationship

Claudia being protective of Louis. Armand dealing with it. some sort of bond rivalry. both of them aware that something's wrong with the other. Armand and Claudia's similarities being acknowledged (age, killing a human they loved — Charlie, Ricardo — and complex situation regarding their maker), even a possibility for some kind of understanding and compassion (making the end more tragic). Armand seeing a some of Lestat in Claudia. Claudia seeing Armand's love for Lestat. a common love for theater and spectacular shows. that awful experience before Claudia's death.

10. Louis and memories

the photos he takes (where are they in 2022? will they clash with Louis' tale?). the metatextual dimension of themes such as: unreliable narration, memories and perspective, autofiction. Daniel calling out Louis' avoiding strategies. Louis calling out Daniel's rudeness and biais. how Louis really sees his relationship with Claudia? the gap between Louis' and Armand's recalling. a deeper exploration of his superimposed identities (black, queer, american man; in 1940, 1973, 2022). learning how to trust someone new after being abused. the rain metaphors. Louis saying the most poetic and heartbreaking thing you'll ever heard. his relationship to vampirism as he joins Armand's coven. grief and loss of a family member. hallucinations and how they are filmed / manifesting. guilt. loving Claudia and Armand. loving Lestat, still. etc.

tysm for coming to my tedtalk. it was very self-indulgent but very much pleasant. i won't be mad if it doesn't happen (obviously!), or not like i imagine. still, it's fun to imagine and put that here on tumblr. no shame on lestat, i just have no special things i'm waiting for about him, and will be very happy indeed to see him again. salut

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saintsenara · 4 months ago

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Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I absolutely love your metas! You’re not only clearly a very talented writer but also blessed with such great insight into these characters that my dopamine levels always jump to absolute heights with every new post. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and being a real gem in this fandom ❤️

Also, because I couldn’t find any post (or did I miss it?) about specifically Harry/Snape (without a third person added to the mix) I would love to read your thoughts on it. Either romantically or gen, after the war, where Snape lives. Thank you so much for indulging me :)

thank you very much for the [exceptionally lovely] ask, anon!

snarry is definitely a popular request...

... so let's get into it!

[and let's also get out of the way that i do not back snamione as a pairing. you can find out why here.]

while they're by no means my otp - and while i'll admit to preferring both snape and harry paired up with lord voldemort - i have long dabbled in a bit of snarry, particularly because it's a ship which attracts astonishingly talented writers. and - in particular - astonishingly talented writers who think really subtly, intelligently, and creatively about life and love and all the questions therein. i'm always really struck by the nuance with which both snape and harry are treated in so many snarry fics, and i much prefer that to the more one-note treatment each character gets elsewhere in the fandom.

and - of course - why snarry works so well as a ship is because it has such a solid justification in both harry and snape's canon characterisation - and because this compatibility is made all the more interesting by the layer of conflict caused by snape and harry's mutually antagonistic relationship. harry adores the half-blood prince - looks up to him so much, in fact, that he genuinely wonders if the man was his father - because they're intellectually compatible, have similar senses of humour, have similarly self-serving aspects to their moral codes, and have a shared reactivity and emotional volatility. the text emphasises this frequently, most explicitly when hermione tells harry in half-blood prince that he doth protest too much:

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn’t notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn’t he use another guinea pig for a change? What’s Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff - " "Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

harry is also willing to acknowledge these similarities himself, sometimes. he empathises with - and even, occasionally, respects - snape well before the conclusion of deathly hallows, and - crucially - does this on his own terms. him refusing to dismiss his disgust at his father's treatment of snape in snape's worst memory in order not to make sirius or lupin feel awkward is incredibly impressive - and is something i don't think he gets enough credit for.

and since one of the things which makes me a member of both tomarrymort and snapemort nation is harry's instinctive understanding of how voldemort's childhood affected him and voldemort's understanding of how snape's childhood affected him, this is something i think provides a fascinating seam for authors to mine when writing about snape and harry together.

similarly, post-war, i think snarry is one of the best pairings for exploring how both harry and snape come to terms with the realisation that - no matter how well it all worked out in the end - they were both pawns in a larger game. i think that snape is, really, the only person in harry's life who could ever come close to appreciating what it means to have dumbledore send you out to [nearly] die - and i also think, because the man is always at the forefront of my mind, that snape is one of the few people in harry's life who can appreciate the fact that harry, as much as he also hated and feared him, was impressed by, sympathised with, and wanted to help voldemort.

snarry is also an incredibly compelling ship for thinking about power, and how both harry and snape understand it. i wouldn't care about the age difference, or the fact that snape and harry's acquaintance is established while harry is a child and snape is his teacher, even if the dynamic between them could only ever be heavily unbalanced in snape's favour, because these are fictional people. but i'm often struck by how interestingly snarry writers deal with snape being someone who views himself, inherently, as a supplicant - and who therefore ends up offering harry the upper hand in their dynamic [whether this is platonic or otherwise] despite the fact that he is the younger partner. snape's capacity for destructive devotion and self-subordination is one of his most fascinating canon characteristics - and snarry is one of the best vehicles for exploring this.

indeed, the canonical snape clearly regards harry as someone who possesses power over him. his complaints about harry being rich, spoiled, and arrogant make clear that he considers harry to be the second coming of the dynamic he had with james [with it never seeming to occur to him that this is an absurd thing for an adult teacher to think about their pupil], while his complaints about harry's fame are because he views harry as an inherent insider [someone with a pureblood surname and the money to prove it] to the wizarding world while he himself is an outcast. this can cause some exquisite toxicity - especially when snape, who tends to view every interaction he has though a win-lose lens and who becomes incredibly nasty in both victory and defeat, is proven right, having insisted to harry that the wizarding world won't like its golden hero getting railed by a tenuously-acquitted death eater.

but it can also result in something surprisingly beautiful. harry likes to save people, after all, and snape would - deep down - very much to be saved.

and one way he can do this is by offering snape the forgiveness for his role in lily's death which it's clear the canonical snape refuses to accept he might be entitled to. and, in doing this, the pairing draws out a theme which i am obsessed with - that there is a lost generation, whose ghosts haunt the characters alive in the canon timeline. no matter how negative his opinion on james and sirius and so on is, by virtue of knowing them, snape provides harry with a connection to a world he would be a stranger to otherwise, while harry provides snape with a mooring in the present which makes dealing with the weight of the past - and processing the fact that he's virtually the only person he knew as a teenager who's still alive - easier.

i also think that fucking your enemy's nephew is iconic, and snape and petunia meeting again in a scenario in which he's harry's boyfriend is a concept that sustains me.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #snarry #harry potter #severus snape

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zombie-bait · 4 months ago

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We're being self-indulgent again, folks! Here's a Shadowheart 'fit inspired by Slovak Kroj. This is actually completely unrelated to the Miku art challenge going around rn lol I drew Karlach in traditional Slavic clothes months ago (also posted on here) and I'm hoping to get through all the companions at some point 'cuz I think it'd be a fun challenge for myself. I'll put some detail shots/info under the keep reading for anyone interested.

Her flower crown has night orchids in it hehe. Also I only just realized she doesn't have a lot of freckles in the real game but I added them to the last Shart fanart I did so fuck it, we're committing. (also I had to learn how to actually render a braid for this rip)

The center of her sash is designed after her headband in the game. I went for a star + plant motif for the designs to connect back to Selune/Shar. Also, in my first playthrough I got kinda annoyed with her so I only dressed her in swampy colours, gave her the wood woad shield and called her 'Swampheart' so she's a green plant girlie to me forever and always.

Here are a few of my references. I tried to play around with the visuals a bit. White, red and blue tend to be the classic colours for Kroj but I've seen some very beautiful black and green ones out there. I also think the darker colours just fit her vibe better. When working on designs like this I tend to take some elements directly from references and others I use as inspiration to come up with my own designs so I'm not just copying outfits 100%. At some point I might try drawing her in a more traditional looking Kroj but for now I had fun being a bit silly and artsy with the designs :))

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart fanart #fanart #bg3 fanart #bg3 art #slavic art #slavic #slovak art #I'm a silly lil slav that cant be stopped #digital art #slavic folklore #kroj #slovak

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aventurinemybeloved · 9 months ago

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Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him

Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol

"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"

"Hm nope, not at all are you?"

"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"

While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.

But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.

As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.

"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"

While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.

And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.

Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.

Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.

He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.

"It's on me"

"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"

"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"

Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.

You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.

Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.

"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way

You playfully rolled your eyes

"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"

It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #belle writes

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2cutie · 5 months ago

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A Touch Possessive

Kung Lao x Female!Reader

summary: 18 + content! Kung Lao doesn't particularly enjoy when you train with Tomas. He thinks that's a pretty fair thing to feel all things considered, and whether or not it was true outside his head was another thing. Whether it was his ego or denial, he doesn't think you'd be too upset if he comes up with a pretty little lie to steal you away.... You won't be, right?

a/n: pretty lil thing, innit? *pats his shoulder* dimples make my brain a bit feral. also this is longgg because I was feeling very self-indulgent. (i should probs start bulleting) but enjoy sharing my sins.

Kung Lao's gaze scans the proximity of the training field, his eyes narrowing in the sun's rays. He was looking for you - of course. When was he not?

It became more of a habitual trait at this point, and he couldn't really help it. But he had a reason this time, at least.

He was just… annoyed that you were spending time away from him. Specifically with other people.

Yeah, it was totally a reason. And no, he wasn't jealous. He had this monologue in his head everyday and every time he settled on not being jealous - therefore he wasn't.

You were a champion that Lord Liu Kang had collected; Modest, sweet, kind. A quick learner. Additionally, a great fighter. So it was really nothing short of due time that Liu kang instilled your assistance in training the rest of the champions.

Lao relished in that! He would purposefully do a poor job just to feel your hands position him to a better stance. He would work harder just to strip off his shirt because he was "sweating too much". He sent Raiden a winning smirk and wink every time you fell for it. Raiden always shook his head in disapproval.

But, that delight deflated when he realized that you would be doing the same to the others as well. Your hands on Kenshi's chest? Raiden's waist?

And when you spread out Johnny's legs with your own to show him a better way to dive out of the way? You didn't actually believe Johnny needed assistance for that, did you? The actor was totally stealing his idea!

Besides, he was your boyfriend, not Johnny.

So there he was, sulking, as he searched the Wu Shi Academy for where you were.

It was after the day's training, one where you were separated to different groups. Not only did he not get to see sweat drip off you, but he didn't get to show off for you either.

Unfulfilling.

His eyes finally fell on you. You were a small distance away, conversing the shade with Tomas at your hip. Part of his mind knew you two were discussing your martial arts - after all, Tomas was most likely your instructor of the day - but the larger, more illogical part of his brain overruled that. Tomas was looking at you with those doe eyes of his after all.

He crossed over to you in record time. He called your name, purposefully interrupting the ninja mid-sentence.

You perked off the wall, looking over Tomas' shoulder upon hearing his voice. "Kung Lao?"

He stopped when was beside Tomas. Well, until he was semi-blocking assassin purposefully but not enough for it to seem on purpose. He was smart when he wanted to be. "You, uh, busy? I need your help with.." Oh, he didn't get this far. "..Something."

You blinked. "Ah." You were mildly disinterested, but who were you to deny those dimples? You turned to Tomas, who only shook his head, dismissing you. You apologized, excusing yourself to fall in step beside Kung Lao. "What's up?"

Kung Lao couldn't resist the creeping smirk on his face. He intertwines is arm in yours, pulling you closer as if to prevent you from turning around. "I kinda lost a paper this morning. You don't mind helping me, right?"

Your face scrunched, both in confusion and disbelief. "A paper?" Seriously? That's what he wanted? You turned your head around, debating about returning to Tomas. Kung Lao walked faster. "Why not just be more organized?"

"That's more of your thing. I'm more unbothered."

"So even you admit it?"

Your cheeky comment didn't go unnoticed as he glances down to you. "It's not like I'm a mess all the time, I mean… most of the time. But not all. That counts for something."

You held back several retorts to that as he guided you to his room. He released you only once you were there, opening the door to his room. He gave a nonchalant shrug and stepped inside.

Unsurprisingly, it was in disarray, but not as much as you expected from him. You eyed it over quickly. A part of you semi-hoped this cursed paper would be in the middle of the floor or somewhere in sight so you could just leave. "What paper is it exactly?"

Chinese decor was sparsely scattered, being a spare room for the monks of the academy before their arrival. There was a crest of his heritage on the wall and the desk pushed to the wall was filled with scattered papers in his messy handwriting, all in mandarin. It seemed a fair place to start.

"Training data. I think I left it somewhere around here." His eyes follow you to his desk, some sort of shallow pride swelling in his chest to have you in his shared space. He closed the door.

"Training data," you repeat, deftly shifting through the papers. "You keep track of that? I mean, that's great. I just didn't really… expect it, I guess."

He comes closer behind you, peering over your shoulder as your muse around on his desk. He feels a little offended at that, even despite it being a lie. "I always keep track of progress and achievements."

A partial lie, anyways.

You hum in response and continue to dig through his litter. You notice that he is not at all helping, but it's not much of a shocker, really. You eyed a familiar receipt in the corner of his desk. "You know.." You pick it up, holding it over your shoulder accusatory. "If you kept track of things the same way you keep tabs of this receipt with your favourite food on it, you'd be fine."

Kung Lao snatched it back. ""Hey, don't look at that! It's the only thing that makes my life worth living, so don't you dare laugh at it!" His tone was playful and exaggerated, but it was a perfect ploy for him to move closer to you.

"Ugh, you are so dramatic," you huffed, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't exactly stop the faint blush that creeped on your cheeks upon feeling the warmth emitting just behind you.

And yes, of course - of course - he noticed. He stood right behind you as you continued your fruitless search, really just keeping your mind busy. He brushed some hair off your neck to get a good look at your face. He smirked at your reaction. "I'm simply passionate about what matters to me."

Ignoring that, you pulled away from his hand and attempted to stay focused. "You could be helping."

"I know." You sent him a look over your shoulder at his dismissive tone. "But I am helping." He continues in a low tone and his arms come beside you, his palms pressed on either side of the desk, trapping you between them. Your fingers stop rummaging when you feel him press against your back. Your eyes narrow suspiciously.. "What's wrong?" He asks in feigned innocence, his lips brushing your ear. "Did I make you lose your concentration?"

"This paper doesn't exist," you state. Not a question.

You felt Kung Lao's smirk grow against your ear. He moved down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, nodding slowly. "I know." He really couldn't even put up a lie? "I just wanted an excuse to pull you away from Tomas. He can be annoying.."

You really, really wanted to be mad at him. But his warmth, almost scorching against your back felt a little too nice and he pressed tigher to you, encasing you. You felt yourself flush. You put a hand on the desk to stabilize yourself. Focus…

"I wasn't annoyed," you attempted to argue back, keeping your tone straight. "And that's not for you to decide for me."

His right hand shifted from the table to your hip, keeping you in place. "It doesn't matter, I just don't like seeing you with him." He whispered against your neck, mouthing his lips on your skin. He moved towards your ear again, his timbre taking a firm, and almost possessive murmur. "You shouldn't be talking with him."

You felt your gut churn. That tone wasn't doing you any favours. And he knew damn well what he was doing pressing himself behind you while pushing up against the wood, the friction pressing at your core. You knew he heard you thickly swallow. "He is still my mentor," you defend, even through your stuttered breath.

"Yeah, but you don't need to train with him. You train with me too, you know?" Kung Lao defied, voice firm and possessive. His warm hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you back to him tighter.

You grunted, placing your other hand on the desk. You were trying so damn hard to keep your composure, to not prize him for his actions. But feeling him press so suggestively to you, feeling the brief hard on against your ass was maddening.

He felt so annoyingly good. Your hand snaked to his wrist, squeezing a pathetic warning to him. "I am also a student. I cannot stop training simply because you're feeling left out."

You felt his chuckle vibrate beside your ear. It was too easy to sense your failing composure. His hand crept from your belly to interlock his fingers with yours, trapping it against the wood under a firm grasp. "Whatever you say," He mumbled, dripping with a smug, amused tone, knowing damn well he wasn't listening to a thing you were saying. His lips kissed the nape of your neck, his tongue running to taste your skin.

A shiver thrummed through you. How was he so good at this? You're attempting to stay determined, but your facade was crumbling. Your hand clenched beneath his, and you squirmed.

On the contrary, Kung Lao loved the way you were involuntary grinding against his hips. His lips pressed more firmly to your neck, his lips sucking at your delicate skin. His free hand went back to the side of your hip. "Ah, ah, ah," he mocked, "don't move so much."

You let out a huff through your nose. You were done with avoiding him.

But you wouldn't let him win.

In a display of insubordination, you wrapped your arm behind his neck, pushing him closer to you. You ground back on him, firm and deliberate, stealing some power back from him. He groaned, and you felt him twitch against your ass. Your fingers sank into his hair, grabbing at his ponytail.

The hand on your hip gripped tightly and he meets the angle of your hips. "Playing dirty?" He managed to get out, the natural smugness of his voice replaced by arousal.

"Like you don't like it." You leaned your head back against his shoulder, drinking in the tremors of his response. He bit at your earlobe. "You're so annoying."

"I'm taking it as a compliment," He conceded, his tongue caressing a path behind your ear. His hand trailed lower on your stomach, his thumb swiping over your underbelly.

You heart stuttered as his fingers trailed under the layer of your shirt. You tugged his head down to your height, kissing his dimple in permission to continue. You littered kisses along his strong jawline, spreading your legs and grinded against his cock encouragingly. Kung Lao leaned it to your lips, meeting your motion in return easily.

Kung Lao's hand dipped below the pants of your uniform, his dexterous fingers grazing your awaiting folds. "Gods, you're so impatient," he grunts, the rumble reverberating both beside and behind you. His voice was a blend of desire and lust as you melted into his touch.

"You're just slow," you retaliated and nipped at his neck, trying to get him to go faster already. There was no need for him to tease; you were so wet already.

He grunted at the sting of your teeth, a shudder running through him. His head pulled off your shoulder just to look down to you, his dark eyes lusted over. "I'm slow, huh?" He questioned in a low mockery. Before you could even question his response, two fingers dipped easily into you, deep. "Because I'm slow, right?"

Your whole body locked, spine arching back into him at the sudden intrusion. Neither your body or your mind expected to be stuffed so suddenly, and an absolutely pitiful whine broke from your throat. "Ah, fuck, you asshole," you panted, his fingers already setting a steady pace in fucking you open. Your slickness made you take him easily.

"Oohh, look who's getting bratty now," Kung Lao taunted with a sharp flick of his wrist. His simper spread when he felt your hot walls clench around him.

You didn't - couldn't - manage a reply to his irritable remark. Not when his fingers worked you skillfully and steadily.

And by the gods was he good with his fingers.

You were practically convulsing gently against his frame, trying to escape from the growing pleasure that was already gnawing inside you at his fingers alone. Your unbound hand gripped at his forearms, his wrist, his fingers - anything you could reach, trying wordlessly beg him to ease up.

You were eating your words now, feeling yourself mend to a moaning debauched mess, so pliant and submissive. His fingers scratched you deep and practiced; he knew your body all too well.

His eyes burned on your skin as he watched your every reaction. You writhed against his solid frame, but your body was at the mercy he didn't feel like giving you. His sighed, so satisfied, as his gaze fell on how well your pussy swallowed his fingers and drooled over his wrist. "Now look at you, so desperate and helpless.. all from just my fingers." He punctuated his words with a crook of his knuckles, hitting just right to release a whine of pleasure from you.* "You were saying you wanted me to go faster?"

Your mind took too long to process what he had said, and by the time it did, his fingers fucked were pumping in you faster, rougher. His gaze swallowed you, watching your crumble of power.

"K-King Lao, Lao, please, L-Lao," you spluttered, clenching around his fingers as you nearly sobbed. Your hips jerked in time with the thrusts of his wrist, your body chasing the pleasure without your mind's permission. His arm wrapped around your waist, enforcing you to keep partaking in the assault of pleasure. "I-I can't-"

"Yes you can. You can take it," He intercepted, keeping you pinned against him, taught. His fingers were relentless. "Don't tell me. You're overwhelmed by my fingers alone?" He purposefully hit the same spot within you, abusing it over and over again, just to feel that delicious jerk of your hips against his hardening dick.

You want to say more, but you find yourself unable to do anything more than just to stutter out breaths and broken sobs. You feel his other hand snake from your hip down, and you blush hard at the realization of what he's doing.

He spreads your folds lewdly, just for the added torture and for his own satisfaction of having a better look at his assault on you. You were dripping for him, your pussy looking so abused and full as your swallowed around his knuckles, painting them in a clear essence. Your pants fell off your hips and to to the floor finally. You kick them hastily off your ankles, not caring where they land.

You're thankful he's mostly supporting your weight. Your own legs were not an ally anymore, not having the strength as you only leaned back into him, seeking his touch and warmth. Your head fell into his strong bicep, muffling your moans into the muscle. You had half the nerve to sink your teeth into him for torturing you like this, but you were enjoying it more than you were willing to admit.

"All spread out in front of me. How can I not just take you?" Kung Lao's own breath was turning hot and ragged, the puffs hitting against your skin. He was so hard against you now, his eyes lusted over. His tongue darts out to wet his lips while his thigh snakes inbetween yours to open you up further for him.

You felt so exposed, so vulnerable and yet with him it felt so right as he admired you, devoured you with his eyes. Relentless, he pressed his thumbpad against your clit and you let out a shrill of a moan, tears hazing your eyes in pleasure. You felt your clit tremble. "L-Lao, gods, Lao.. I.. I'm going to.."

Lao chuckled deeply at the song of your shattered moan. "You're gonna what, hm?" His fingers kept their steady pace, fucking up into you while his thumb applied more pressure, swirling. He was determined to see you fall apart, to see your fall from grace. "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nodded quickly. There was no use in lying. Your mind was completely unraveled, only focused on the rising glow inside of you. Your hips rode in time with his wrist.

"Do it. Come for me." The command was a hiss in your ear, low and gravelly.

That sent you over, as if his permission held power over you.

Your release hit you - hard and crashing. You convulsed in his hands, her body arching and twitching. Kung Lao worked you through it, working you through you even as the white started to faze out of your vision. He held you firm, wanting to feel each twitch of your climax.

You sobbed and moaned his name, the only thing your mind could process, quivering as you came undone and when he worked you into overstimulation. His fingers slowed as you started to drift away from your high. The new wetness making his coating his fingers thickly.

You stuttered at the movement on your oversensitive walls. Your grimaced, shuddered. "Kung Lao," you warned. "Please."

Alright, he could be nice.

He let his fingers slip out of you, missing your encompassing heat as soon as they left you. His fingers were stained with your mark, your release dripping down his fingers. He held his hand in front of you both, forcing you to get a good look at it all the same. You painted him so beautifully.

There was a primal satisfaction he felt thrum through his body. Kung Lao took a moment to admire the sight, feeling the slick between his fingers. "Gods, look at you," he murmured, full of pride and desire. His eyes shifted to yours as he brought his fingers to his mouth, pressing them to the flat of his tongue. He slowly, savoringly licked them clean.

You groaned at that, a spike of heat bubbling in you again. You took the moment to shallow out your breathing. "You're so gross."

"You love it," he hauntingly responds, his tongue running over his thick fingers, cleaning every last drop you left on him. When he was satisfied, he hugs you to his chest. The same hand finds course to your chin and tilts your head back.

Your mouth was parted as you panted, meeting his eyes back with your glazed ones. Kung Lao's eyes scanned over your face, committing the painting of your features into your brain

"You look so beautiful when you come undone by me." He leaned his mouth forward, hovering just above your lips. You think he's going to kiss you, until his fingers press your lips. The same fingers you came on. "Taste yourself," he ordered.

You didn't protest. His fingers dipped into your mouth and you pressed your tongue to them. Your taste was faint, but still you obediently listened to him. As his fingers pushed deeper, your tongue wraps around his index, slick and warm before you swallow. You suck on them, your eyes never leaving his as you watch his desire unfold in his eyes.

"That's it," he praises. "Taste good, don't you?" You had enough sense to glare harmlessly to him. He takes his fingers out when he's content, a trail of saliva falling disconnecting. "You look adorable trying to glare at me when you're flustered and dazed."

"I can't believe you lied about some paper just to feel me up." You tried to break out of his hold, your mind catching back up to remind you that you should be annoyed with him.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad at me. I was just having some fun." His grip was unrelenting. "I feel like you should reward me for even letting Tomas flirt with you in the first place."

You were allowed enough room to turn in his hands, facing him with an unamused look. "He was not flirting with me," you argued back. "And you don't get anything just for being jealous."

Kung Lao sent you an incredulous look. "Are you really truing to deny it? You must be completely clueless then. It was so obvious. And I wasn't jealous," he added on petulantly.

"Tomas was not.." You trailed off, thinking back to some parts of your conversation with the assassin. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lao had a point. "It's not important," you ignored his smug 'hah!'. "I wasn't flirting with him, anyways."

"You're just as oblivious as always," he retorts. "And just because you weren't doesn't mean anything. I don't like how he was all over you. He knows I'm yours."

You ignored how your heart clenched when he said that. "You are still not getting anything just because you got jealous. And yes," you tacked on quickly, "You are jealous."

"Wha-" He sputtered. "I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of him of all people?" He huffed, an indication that he was, in fact, incredibly jealous but refused to admit it.

"Possessive then? Infatuated?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Envious? Bitter? Which synonym would you prefer?"

Kung Lao releases a frustrated huff, knowing this was going nowhere. His eyes flicked away as you continued to drive in your point. "Fine, I was.. a little jealous. Are you happy now?" His tone was still defensive, but there was a small glint of resignation.

"You were all of the above," you corrected, eyeing him.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, you got me. I'm infatuated, envious, whatever. Anything else you wanna add to the list?

"Sure," you practically purred and reveled in the way his shoulders slumped. "Egotistical, flamboyant, cocky…" He were enjoying the sulking look of his. "And looks so damn good when he admits it."

His brown eyes look back at you, that smirk returning to play on his lips when you mentioned the last part. His ego never took a bruise for too long. "You forgot humble and modest.'

"Oh, right," you muse, matching his energy. You smirk up to him, unfolding your arms as you cock your head to the side. "The great Kung Lao."

His eyes seem to gleam back to you, enjoying the banner. A sense of confidence washed over him at the title. "Greatest warrior of all time." So self-assured.

"And exactly what does the great Kung Lao think he deserves since he so believes he's entitled to something?"

"I think as the Great Kung Lao I'm deserving of many things. Recognition, respect, admiration…" his eyes flicker down to your form, his gaze walking over you "Among other things Tomas won't get."

You give him an unimpressed look. "And what do you want now?" You ask instead.

"Well, for one" He stars, "For you to stay far away from Tomas. And for two.." Kung Lao moves in, backing you up against the desk once more, the back of your thighs digging into the wood "I think I deserve a little reward. For being honest about my feelings." Your legs bend until you're sitting on the edge, and neither of you care about the papers you may be crumpling. His hands are on either side of you again. "A nice, hard, long reward."

Your hands rest of his shoulders, eagerly squeezing at his muscles. His hands come to pull apart your thighs to slot between them. Your turn to lick your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lao's body is firm as he pulls you by your legs to him. "And I think I'll take here, right now."

"On the desk? Seriously?".

"What? You don't like the idea of it?" His hands explore the contours of your sides. "You didn't mind a moment ago."

You sigh, defeated, and instead pull at his vest. "You're overdressed," you mumble, rising your eyes to his expectantly.

"I can fix that, easy." He moves away just enough to start undoing the buttons. Each undone button is a tease to his tanned skin below, a shade that has your mouth watering in anticipation. He pulls it off his arms, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His chest is bared to you, muscles rippling with the movement.

Your eyes roam him appreciatively and your hands find his skin again, massaging into his toned chest. He's well aware of how built he is, and even more aware of how much you appreciate it.

Kung Lao leans back, his face close to yours as he sends you that cock-eating smirk. "You like the sight, huh?" He teases. Like he had to ask.

"So obnoxious." You pinch his dark nipple in retaliation.

"Hey!" He lets out a shocked gasp, and his chest twitches at the sudden pinch. "Watch it now, that's sensitive." He pouts, rubbing a hand over the abused peck. He gives a brief glare before his smirk creeps back. "Do it again."

You let out an exasperated huff. "Ruining the moment."

He laughs, settling his grip on your hips. "You never complained before. Besides, you're the one who pinched my nipple."

"As if you didnt' like it," you retorted. You brought your hands to his face, carressing over his soft skin, your eyes drinking in his spellbinding features. Your fingers trail over his soft lips, the curve of his smile before tracing the dents of his dimples, staring at them in awe.

The dents deepened. "A fan?" His lips kiss your fingertips.

"Unfortunately."

"Only unfortunately? That hurts." His large hands squeeze you. "Can't help I have a handsome face. Lucky you, hm?" His self-assured confidence was back in full force it seemed.

"Hm," you repeated, matching his tone. "Looks ever better between my thighs."

There was a nice reaction. His eyebrows shot up at your boldness, his teeth peeking beneath his lips. "Is that an invitation?" He asks, voice lowering to a more seductive undertone. His hands shifted the inside of your legs, pushing them.

"Take it as a suggestion, if you will."

His hands stopped the junction of you pelvis. "I think I'll have to take you up on that." He kneels on the floor, quick and impatient, forcing your legs to expose yourself in the process. He's practically drooling already, and you were already bare, ready for him from the previous sin. Your pussy was a delectable sight but he still managed to trail his eyes back up to you when he heard the quick intake of breath.

Your hand shifted to the back of his head.

"Eager?" He teases, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin. You have half the mind to tell him to shut up but the words are lost when he leans in, his tongue licking a long stripe up you.

Your whole body jolts from the contact, and his hands have to hold you down atop your thighs, keeping them spread so you don't squeeze him. Not just yet, anyways. When he presses his lips to yours, sucking, a squeak leaves you and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp.

He can feel you twitch and squirm, both beneath his palms and on his tongue. His ego inflates at the sound of your pleasure. He chuckles, the deep vibrations coursing inside of you. "Sensitive, aren't you?" He teases between licks, his tongue lapping at the wetness unfolding before him. You can feel yourself opening to him. His fingers dig dents into your plush thighs, keeping you in place as he continues, dipping his tongue inside of you.

"Oh gods," you whimper. You can't manage a reply, not right now. You undo his ponytail, letting his hair fall free to his shoulders, and you grip it to ground yourself.

Kung Lao lets out a low moan as he swallows your lather, a taste he can never be filled of, and you jolt at its vibrations. His eyes open to see you, drinking in that delicious look of ecstasy on your face. It spurs him on, his tongue working inside your hot folds with more fervor. "You're shaking," he murmurs between sucks, and his eyes are blown wide as watches between your thighs, full of hunger.

You know that, damn him. But your face still flushes deep red from hearing it from him and you whimper, trying to stifle your moans. Seems you're being stubborn. He can't have that; He'll just have to pull them out of you.

Kung Lao sucks on your clit, grazing it just lightly between his teeth, before his tongue flattens against it to soothe it. He places open mouth kisses to your folds. He wants to hear every sound, feel every whimper and gasp of pleasure on his tongue and lips. He wants it all to be for him. His tongue rides inside you, moving quick and with purpose.

You pull him more taught, pressing the both of you closer, to have him deeper. He sucks and you jerk, a moan leaving deep within your chest. His hands fall away from your thighs, instead dipping underneath your hips and crushing you to him. His mouth covers the whole of you, and he moans in satisfaction as your thighs instantly squeeze around his head, twitching and trembling. An approving grunt follows.

He has more access to you, his tongue exploring each wet cavern and crevice of you, and you can feel each path it takes, each thrust the appendage pulses into you. You're not sure if you can decide if you like his tongue or lips on you better, but fortunately you don't have to decide.

He loves every second of this, loves every drop you make for him to swallow.

Your lips are parted as you heave your breaths, the blush running down your chest and dusting your shoulders. He doubles his efforts, his tongue fucking furiously against you. He wants nothing more than to see you writhe and cry out beneath him.

And yet, when you feel yourself fading, can feel yourself getting too far gone, he stops. Sudden and short, and you feel empty as his and unfulfilled as his tongue sinks out of you.

You hear him growl as he pulls away, not entirely wanting to himself. But he's craving you carnally.

You whine in protest, panting. His chin is wet with your slick and it makes your body flame hotter.

Kung Lao's eyes are darkened with desire, his own breathing ragged. He can still taste you on his tongue, can feel the evidence of his work on his chin. "You taste so good," he praises as he licks his lips. His hands squeeze you encouragingly. "But I need more. I need you."

He rises to his feet without another warning, his body towering over yours since you slipped down to your forearms. One hand stays upon your thigh, the other coming to caress your face, his thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. "I need inside you," *he mummers, voice rugged. His body presses against you, his aching cock pressed right up to your clit through the confines of his fabric, but you still felt it twitching when he feels your wetness touch it. It's evident how much he desires you.

"I think you may have a kink for desk sex," you comment idly, your breath ghosting his lips. You shudder at how hard he is.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a deep kiss. But it's short before he pulls away, his breath hot as he responds. "Maybe." His hand slips to your neck, a shiver running through you. "I think it's just you." He pushes you backward until your back is laying on the desk.

"That's so stupid and cheesy," you comment but bite your lip. He grabs at the top of your uniform and slides the rest of it over top of you, leaving you just in your bra. His eyes soak in the sight hungrily, greedy. It cups your breast so nicely…

But no as perfect as it would be with his hands. With that though, he gropes your bust, pushing the plush of it up against your bra, plumping the skin. He nearly pants at that alone. Maybe he was a boob guy afterall.

It takes his mind a moment to process you responded. "I know you don't mind it." His hand continues to knead over the lace of your bra, a touch possessive. His eyes have a dark gleam to them.

His hand pushes beneath the band of your bra, pushing it up until your bare breasts bounce out below and he wastes no time in pressing his palms to them. You arch into his touch.

A hum of approval sounds in his throat. The peak of your nipples are enticing, and he runs it between his fingers, feeling it harden at the attention. He presses the peak with his thumb, his eyes roaming to your face to watch your expressions.

"You're being handsy," you comment, pretending as if this was having no effect on you.

He tilts his head. "Can you blame me? You're just too tempting." He shifts the bra off you afterward, another garment falling somewhere to the mess of his floor. "There's so much I want to do to you.."

"Why don't you start with kissing me?"

A soft chuckle leaves him. He presses flush against you again, taking in the sight of your flustered skin. "I'm definitely doing that," he mumbles over your lips, teasing you before finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate embrace.

His tongue wastes no time in licking into your mouth, tasting, his hands holding you in place as he tastes you hungrily. You kiss him back with the same fervor, but you let him dominate the path of your lips, the ferocity of the moment. Your legs encompass him, wrapping over his sharp hips. You grind up into him. moaning as he meets your movement, his desire so hard as it slides against your wanting folds. Your fingers find their way back to his hair.

"I have a question," you murmur inbetween of kisses and you nibble on his bottom lip before salving it with your tongue.

Kung Lao shudders. He breaks his next kiss, keeping close as he looks down with lidded eyes. "Listening."

"Can you just get the fuck inside of me already?"

His tongue rolls over his teeth, dimples returning. "So bossy." But his hands are already moving down to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down without a waste of another second. There's a bit of arrogance in his expression when he's there nude above you. "I like it. But can't you wait a little bit longer?" He's purposefully teasing you.

"Make me wait any longer," you started, a grumble in your chest, "And I'm going back to Tomas."

A laugh escapes out of him, his head dipping back in amusement. When the laugh ends, his head dips toward you again, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and a flash of possessiveness. He leans in, his lips hot against your ear, his voice dipping low and dangerous as he speaks. "Don't you dare every joke about that," he nearly growls.

"Then get on with it." You lick a hot stripe from the curve of his collar bone, up the length of his neck, tasting his sweat and pulse beneath his tongue. You stop at his chin, placing a wet kiss there. The sight of his thick, twitching and curved cock nearly makes you feral. Precum drips out of its slit and your mouth waters.

Kung Lao shudders overtop of you, a moan escaping past his lips. His self-control is fading, the desire of how badly he wants you surging forth. It was driving him wild.

He finally kicks off his pants completely.

You are both bare and exposed, the heat between the both of you scorching. Your hands seek his skin, following the valley of his contours before finding purchasing in wrapping around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your breaths mingle, tasting each other's. You're so ready for him, it almost hurts with every pulsing throb that runs through you. You peck his lips, looking into his eyes as you await him.

You don't dare to blink. You always loved watching his expression when he sunk into you, afterall.

He sigh when he finally, finally, lines himself up to you.

His chocolate burn you, committing the feel of your legs around his waist to his vast memory of you. His heart is pounding in the confines of his chest, his body tight with need for you. "You're beautiful," he can't help but mutter, his words barely more than a whisper. He drinks in your every feature, his breath catching in his throat as he finally, slowly, pushes into you.

His girth stretches into you and your warmth envolpes him, so easily encompassing, your body familiarized with every part of him. You grunt at his entrance, your head dipping back onto the desk. Your hips arch up into him, his cock curving into you deeply. He holds you steady.

You're so tight, so hot, so wet. So perfect for him.

Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, the other raking your nails into the curve of his back as you ground yourself into the moment. "Kung Lao," you moan out his name, watching his eyes dilate, his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure as he hilts into you.

He's always so expressive in that moment, with how his lips part open, his eyes haze beyond his control.

"You feel so good," he grunts, ragged and deep, his lips still parted as he breaths out the words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at sensation of your nails dipping into his skin, his body rigid with pleasure. He loves that sound of his name on your lips, the way you say it; the way you need him in this moment.

He begins to move, his hips thrusting into you slowly at first. His hand bruise your hips as he tries to maintain the last threads of his control. His eyes open to fixate on your face.

He didn't need to wait for you to adjust. Not when you were so used to him, not when he prepared you so well. He moves inside of you deeper, accumulating you to his increasing movement. His breath fans off your skin, both of your moans slipping into the other's mouth.

You're so slick around his cock. He opens you wider for himself, a hand holding you down on your thigh, while the other glides to the dip of your knee and raises your leg up, settling it over his shoulder to spread you. His angles his hips a new angle, delving into you deeper.

You can practically see the moment in his eyes when he feels you fully adjust to him, the flash of lust over his pupils when he knows he can pummel you. He marks your plush skin possessively, his thumb stroking the skin that plumps under his grip. He drinks in every twitch, every pass of pleasure on your face and every moan that escapes from your lips. His pace increases steadily.

"You're so pretty, Kung Lap," you praise and he kisses your knee. "I like when your hair is down. Fuck, you feel so good." Your hips undulate as his thrusts turn more purposeful, more pointed.

Your compliments wash over him, his pulse jumping. Something in him always burned when you praised him, something primal. "You feel amazing," he responds, hips thrusting faster into you, your skin slapping off each other, the sound filing into the background.

You pussy clenches around him, pulling a moan from the both of you. You shiver at the sound of his moan, a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. You can hear how wet you are becoming, the lewd sound of your sex filling the room, amplifying your shared lust. The desk begins to creak beneath you as he picks up his pace to something more relentless.

Kung Lao's eyelids flutter again. You were going to kill him with how much you twitched and clenched without realizing. The desk was a countertenor to your lyrics of pleasure, urging him on, riling him to to pull more from you.

"You're so tight," he grunts.

You cursed below your breath. He hits into you so deep, so bruising. "You make such pretty sounds, Lao," you whisper. "Please keeping moaning. F-for me."

Your words course a shiver down his spine. He ruts into you, and it earns a deeper and more guttural sound from him. He pushes your thigh further up on his shoulder. "Don't stop talking," he growls out, his breathing coming out more heavy and broken as his thrusts stutter.

You poke an eye open, watching his sanity crumble. Your other eye opens. "You like when I talk to you?" You ask around broken moans. "Like when I praise you for being a good boy?'

Your eyes paint with lust when he nods, his eyes nearly rolling back at the title. "I love it," he gasps, steadying his weight on an arm as his thrusts slam into you. Your voice, your choice of words, drive him wild. His hips buck into you more urgently, less rythmatic, relying more onto his fraying instincts. You know his you a bruise in shape of his hand by tomorrow. "Do not stop. Please don't stop."

Who were you to deny that? "The great Kung Lao falls at such simple words.. So beautiful when he's like this." You moan at a particularly harsh thrust, spine jerking into him* "So pliant. My good boy.. good puppy."

Kung Lao nearly whines at that. You both demean and praise him as one, and he can't resist the pull it has over him, his movements turning sloppy as he ruts into your hips. He released a loud moan, his eyes practically pleading with yours. "I'm your good boy," he agrees, his body all but melting, his hips driving into you with a desperate need.

And yet you crave even more. You know he can give you more. "Don't be so gentle with me, pretty," you coo. "Go harder. Be rough. You can do that for me, can't you? Baby?"

A guttural moan passes his lips at the neediness in your request. He likes it rough. He loves it even more when you give permission to be rough.

"Anything," he nods. "Anything you want." He rightens his grip on and does an experimental thrust into you, harder, brutal as he drags you down onto him in time with his plunge. He doesn't wait for a response, diving right into a savage pace, jackhammering into you at an animalistic rhythm. His muscles strain, but gods he needed this.

The force of his hips send the desk into an endless creaking state that threaten to splinter, scraping against the floorboards. The back of it bangs against the wall with each calculated thrust, but neither of you can find a care to stop. A large part of him is riled knowing someone could hear you both, knowing that they're hearing him claim you.

"T-that's it," you affirmed. "Y-yes, Lao. Doing.. so-so good. Feel so good."

"You're mine," he states with a deep growl," the thought of someone - hopefully Tomas - hearing this was driving him to an almost overwhelming state. His hips bounced off yours in an impairing force, the sound of your coupling growing desperate, urgent.

"Yours," you confirmed. Your head throws back, your throat presented to him. Tempting… "F-fuck, Kung Lao..!"

That smirk returns to his lips, seeing the expanse of your throat bared to him. His head dips to it, his lips sucking over your pulse point. His teeth graze it, teasingly. "You have no idea how good you look like this.."

Moans spill from you, falling from your lips in an overflow and he soaks the vibrations of them, bites them. Your nails leave crescent dents into him, red marks burning into his back.* "Tell me about it," you request in a helpless whimper.

His teeth pave a burning pathway to the side of your cheek, his deep grunts filling your ear. "The way you open up for me." he starts, his voice sensual and gravelly with need, his body practically molding itself against you as he bounces you off of him. "The way your pussy takes me, the way your body responds.. Your moans.."

"Yeah?" Your urge him on, your own body responding to his words. "How wet I get for you?"

Kung Lao moans, the sound guttural. His lips find your jawline, pressing nibbles across it. He's driven by your words. "So wet, so tight."

The best part about that was just how amplified it made the sounds between you two. The loud, wet squelch. It made everything so much more intoxicating.

"You do it to me, it's all you, K-Kung Lao," you sputter out. Your lips messily find his.

This was so obscene, so disgustingly perfect. "All me, no one else," he growls between your tongues' intertwining, his pants hot and heavy as his thighs slam off yours. "No one else can make you feel this."

The hickeys he left tingle on your neck, and you relinquish in their burn. Your tongues dance in a heated, messy display, hands groping any part him you can reach. You find the column of his throat and you squeeze, firmly. "Only you," you agree. "S-so keep fucking me, Kung Lao. Make me come on you, let me feel - fuck - feel you inside me.. Please? So I know I'm yours. I-inside and out."

Kung Lao's lips part in delight, in pure pleasure at the restriction around his throat. The sound of your light begging, telling him to make you come? He would do anything you asked in that moment. "Fuuck, you're mine."

His hands grip onto the underside of your hips and lift you, the change of inclination allowing him to thrust into your warm cavern deeper.

Your moans leave you without any sense of control or restraint. You can only willingly take what he's pounding into you, your mouth agape as moans stream out of your raw throat. You're burning, so is he, and you can feel the familiar urge settling in your stomach.

He knows you're right there on the edge because he's there too, but his focus is entirely on you. "Come for me, baby girl," he grits out, driving into his hips. "I need to feel you." He grunts out your name, and you think that was the thing that truly breaks you.

You bury your fingernails further into him, ground yourself, overwhelmed by him. You moan his name loudly, the only thing your mind could process onto as you came for the second time, more immense than the last.

He watches you you fall apart beneath him, your climax painting you into the perfect picture of debauchery. Your inner walls tremble and grip him, aside your spiraling cries, and it's almost enough to send him following right over the edge. Almost. "You're perfect," he gasps out, gripping your thigh closer to him, using it as an anchoring point to plow into you.

Your breath remains shuddered, moans still slipping past your lips as he continues to fuck into you even in your hazed, barely there mindset as you tried to find solace after your release. Your hips jerk gently out of your control, bucking back up to him as he chases his own ecstasy. Your eyes are blurred, pupils blown wide as you keep your vision trained on him.

One look at your eyes and he knows he's done for, but he holds on, stuttering with more urgency. "I'm close," he rasps out, strained. "So close."

"Please," you beg to him in a soft, needy whisper. He leans back over you, pressing his head into your shoulder. He can practically feel himself tear apart.

Your arms wrap around him in a secured embrace, feeling the way you claw onto him in anticipation for his own release. He faltered, if only for you.

It pushes him into his own pleasure, a lengthy moan escaping his throat, his body tensing while his hips mercilessly still plow into you, burying your head deeply into the crevice of your neck as he comes inside of you. "Fuck," his hisses as he rides through his orgasm, "I'm so-I- you-"

He's sputtering nonsense, his mind so far gone.

"That's it," you whisper encouragingly, shifting your hips to feel his warmth cradle the inside of you, the heat spreading into you deeply. You milk him for all his worth and when he doesn't have more to give, he slows speed down, his thrusts turning soon shallow.

Kung Lao can feel himself shuddering against you, his body reeling from the pleasure still coursing through his veins, the adrenaline that still pumps through him with every hammering pulse of his heart. He's completely wrecked, utterly spent, but he can't bring himself to move away from you, not just yet.

You are in no rush to escape from him either. You just hold onto him there, your bodies intertwined intimately as you bond in the mutual afterglow. He's still inside of you, entrapping his release inside of you, hot and filling. Your fingers glide over the skin of his mark you marked, a comforting sensation for him, while your others glide themselves through his hair. It's quiet between you two as you share a few silent moments

. You nuzzle your cheek on his head, peppering kisses to the crown of his hair. Your pulse steadies in his comfort and you let out a small, content noise. "So good for me," you praise after a pause, when you trust your voice to speak again.

But apparently his mind was already back because you can feel his ego practically bolstering, his senses flooding back into him. He pulls slightly back, hovering closely above you with a self-satisfied look in his eyes. "Perfect, aren't I? He grins. "I do come from a long line of-"

"You're so unsexy." You push his face away from you.

He cackles, his lips widening honestly. He grabs at your wrist, holding it so you can't push him away. "So what? You love it. Don't deny it, you think I'm great."

You make a noise, shaking your head at his pride but even you can't help the sound of affirmation that leaves you. You caress his cheek and you sigh again, silently, your eyes softening in adoration. "Yeah," you begrudgingly agree. "I do love you."

Oooh, he's never letting you live down those words. He cranes into your touch. That winner smirk of his dissolves into a genuine one, his eyes softening. "You better love me," he answers, tone turning more affectionate. He places a kiss to your palm. "You're stuck with me forever, you know that right?"

"Only if you don't burn the world down before then," you confirm.

"I'm not that bad," he protests but there's cheekiness bordering his voice. "I might destroy a few things. But I'm a perfect angel, really."

You want to scoff at that. This saint just committed several sins with you. You raise yourself up and he pulls himself out of you, humming at the loss of your contact. You feel the mess pool between your legs and you grimace. "If you're such a saint, how about you being so generous and carrying me to the shower?"

Kung Lao isn't really listening to you, passive as he takes satisfaction in watching his come pour out of you instead. But he eventually looks back to you. "Demanding as usual." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "But," he concedes, lifting you easily into his arms. "I suppose I can indulge you once in awhile."

"My hero," you pride him flatly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His chuckle runs through you in his chest and he squeezes you as he carries you into the adjourned bathroom with prideful strides. "You really should be more grateful, you know," he teases. He sets you gently down in the shower, ensuring your legs can stand on their own before he releases you.

You don't reply for a second, focusing on stabilizing yourself. "You're staying, right?" You don't voice it, but it's an obvious plea for him to shower with you.

Lao raises an eyebrow at you, clearly saying: 'Of course I'm staying', as if he was offended you even thought differently. He steps inside of the shower after you, closing the distance between you and him again. He smiles down at you and walks you back under the water spicket.

You smile up to him, your hands finding trails over his arms to take. You know you really shouldn't tease him, but you just can't help it… "Wanna invite Tomas, too?"

Bad choice for you. His hand was on the nozzle and upon hearing your words, he stops and looks down on you. Did you seriously just ask him that?

"He has his own." His answer was short.

He just.. can't help it when he feels a bit vindictive, twisting the shower on to rain freezing water down onto you. His expression clearly communicated that that's exactly what you deserved and he holds you there tight as you shriek and try to escape.

He watches the water crusade over you, your body shivering and he doesn't fight the satisfied look on his face.

"Lao!" You shriek, your hair weighing down under the cold divets of water. "You asshole!"

He sighs in exaggerated bliss, obviously enjoying the desired effect it had on you. He holds you tighter to him, his body radiating a warmth that contradicts the cold water pouring down on you. "You know you deserved that."

You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. His gaze follows the trail of water running down your body, following the lines of your curves. Your nipples perked, hardened. But when you shiver again, your teeth clattering, he finally finds some mercy and turns the water to warm. He moves himself under the stream of water as well, letting it rain over you both. He sighs at the contact.

You harmlessly glare up at him. "You are such…" You honestly had no good comeback.

"Can't help it." His voice lacked remorse. "You provoked me."

"Pain my ass," you mutter beneath your breath, but you know damn well you partially deserved that.

But hell, if you didn't absolutely adore him...

"You have a nice ass," he adds after a moment.

"Lao, if you don't shut up for at least two minutes.."

#kung lao x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #kung lao #mk1 #mk1 x reader #kung lao x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat kung lao #look guys i made a border that cool ppl do #thank u ppl on pinterest bc i dont own the game and cant screenshot pretty screens of the bbgirls #my writing

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