#and his every action seems to ache of someone desperate to have the respect of his family to have them acknowledge him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arvandus · 4 years ago

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Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. ��Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

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sailorhyunjinz · 4 years ago

Text

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part II

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, model!bestfriend!Felix, barista!Seungmin, agedup!straykids, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, mentions of death/passing away, mentions of injury, slight angst, mentions of self doubt, mentions of bad economy.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4.6 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: lmao if anyone is wondering why the cafe is open at night; it actually exists! most commonly found in korea but hey this fic doesnt have a set place so just imagine that it’s a cafe that works 24/7 ALRIGHTY?

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

“What do you think this means? Why does he want to contact me?”

You anxiously paced around the living room, Felix sitting on the small grey sofa, his soft brown eyes going from left to right, following your distressed figure.

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you directly, make it feel more personal you know?”

Felix sounded unsure of his own answer as he tilted his head questioningly, his gaze still glued on you.

“But why does he want to know me personally? Does he do this with every model?” You bit your lip as you thought, stopping hastly before running to the kitchen and grabbing the water bottle from the day of the photoshoot.

“y/n! What are you even...” Felix abruptly halted his sentence before widening his eyes at your intentions.

“Surely you’re not actually gonna call him?” he asked in surprise.

“I should at least find out what his motive is! I can’t just ignore the poor boy can I?” you held the water bottle tightly in your hand, removing the plastic wrapper with the number scribbled on and observed his delicate handwriting.

“He seems...strange, to say the least. He rarely talks to people during events and is only ever interested in anything that involves his work.”

Felix knew since he himself was a model. The two of you met during a casting in the earlier years of your career, both being youthful teenagers with dreams and slightly puffy cheeks, babyfat that eventually got away and revealed your hidden features. The day of the casting Felix injured his foot causing him to fall when walking in front of the hawk-eyed judges. Your heart ached when you saw his desperate figure on the cold floor, he was just like everyone else in that frigid casting room, just a youngster with a dream. You passed the audition, smiling as you accepted a blue clipboard with papers from the judges, feeling everyone’s eyes drilling into your back with jealousy. Moments later, after night had fallen over the big city, you found Felix hunched over a small step of stairs meant for the fire escape.

“H-hey,,,uhm, are you fine?”

You hestitated speaking to the quivering boy, his hands covering his face as tears dripped of his chin.

“W-what do you care?!” he spat towards you, his attitude making you want to leave but you felt to guilty to do that, after all he was simply upset and not actually mad.

You inched closer to his cowered body and sat down next to him on the hard stone steps. You looked at him in guilt. You had passed the audition but how were you any better than him? Softly, you put your hand on his shoulder, patting it a couple of times and letting the dark haired boy cry out, his sobs echoing in the dark stairway. He leaned into your touch and you ended up hugging him in silence for what seemed like hours.

Times change and here he is. Signed to a highly respectable agency and catching flights left to right. Nothing more made you prouder than knowing that he didn’t give up on his dream.

“Felix! He’s not strange... maybe he’s just shy?” you tried to defend Hyunjin but realised how defensive you got over somebody you barely knew.

“Shy? In this line of work?” he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the white wrapper in your hands. “I’m not sure...what if he’s interested in you in that way?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest upon hearing Felix’s words.

“You mean r-romantically?” you cleared your throat, feeling butterflies in the depths of your stomach.

“Well...that will never happen, don’t wanna ruin your career, right y/n?”

Your gaze fell onto the white wrapper in your hand as your heart started beating faster.

“R-right y/n?” He coughed as you grabbed your phone and started typing in the digits, glancing over at the wrapper and pressing accordingly.

“Y/n, are you crazy? What if he actually has romatic interests in you? That could ruin both of your careers especially since he’s a world famous photographer that has every girl wrapped around his finger because of his looks.” Felix spoke bitterly, looking at your phone screen and then back at you with heightened eyebrows.

“I’ll guess I’ll have to find out, Felix”

“Ok but do that after I leave, I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore and also be careful. You never know whats brewing on the inside in people like him” he said while rolling his eyes.

“What you wanna eat then bestie?” you laughed as you threw your phone onto the couch and made your way to the pantry.

♡

Hours later Felix was waveing at your from the other of the door, you waved back at the freckled boy, smiling at him.

“Be careful with that dude!” he yelled as he walked down to the flight of stairs, his voice echoing in the old apartment complex.

“I will, mom!” you laughed at his cute consideration before shutting the heavy door.

Silence broke out once the door shut, leaving you alone in the apartment yet again. You dragged your feet on the light laminated floor, making your way to the couch where your phone was buried underneath a multitude of pillows.

“Where did I put that number”. You searched for it, finding your phone and the wrapper wedged between two seat cushions. Sitting down, you landed with a thump on the soft couch, the blue light from your phone emitting onto your face as you typed in the number yet again. A big lump was situated in your throat, your hands shaking as you sent a message to the number.

[y/n] Hi! It’s y/n, it was a pleasure working with you.

You stared at the message you sent before cursing to yourself.

“Why the fuck did I write that? He’s gonna think that I’m some sort of weirdo, can I ever do anything ri-”

A pling from your phone erupted in the living room, catching you off guard. It’s probably not him, why would he reply so fast?

You were wrong, it was him.

[Hyunjin] Hello! It’s Hyunjin, hope you weren’t too surprised at me leaving my number. I’m just happy that you decided to reply.

You gulped as you typed. It didn’t seem like he’d ever done something like this before.

[y/n] No, not at all! Did the pictures turn out well?

[Hyunjin] Oh, you haven’t seen them?

[y/n] My manager usually shows them on the date of the release...

[Hyunjin] How about this, we meet up and I’ll show you the pictures beforehand. We’ll keep it a secret from your company.

M-meet up? This soon? A million thoughts passed through your mind in an instant, your mind zoning out while your eyes were glued on the well-lit screen that displayed the messages. You were curious about the photos but also about him. Wanting to know more about the blond boy and his abrupt ways you replied back, fingers shaking while moving over the keyboard.

[y/n] Sure, when and where?

You didn’t have any work to do anyways so why not solve the mystery called Hwang Hyunjin?

[Hyunjin] 2 PM, tomorrow

An adress was attached to the message which led to cafe you used to work at, not to far from your place. You placed your phone beside you and looked up at the white ceiling, sighing heavily. Maybe Felix was right, it’s strange to meet someone you’ve only met once, especially since he’s met countless of models just like you if not even better. The thoughts consumed too much of your energy and you ended up falling asleep on the couch, chest heaving peacefully.

♡

The sudden vibration of your phone woke you up, the sun shining through the window as you grabbed your phone, light straining your eyes.

[Felix] I’m 100% sure that you messaged that dude, right?

You laughed before typing through squinting eyes, laying down on your back.

[y/n] What if I did?

[Felix] You’re insane

[y/n] That’s my charm, Lixie~

Putting the phone away you slowly sat up, looking around the sunlit living room as if you’d never seen it before. Rubbing your weary eyes, you yawned before thinking ‘breakfast!’

Without even taking one step to the kitchen your phone vibrated once again. You lifted your eyebrow at the signal but ignored it for the time being, thinking that’s it’s Felix pestering you about your desicion to talk to Hyunjin. After you made a bowl of porridge and quickly washed up in the bathroom you grabbed the phone, wanting to scroll through your socials but what you saw on your home screen made the spoon of porridge that was on it’s way towards your mouth stop.

[Hyunjin] Slept well?

You’ve met him once and he’s already asking such a question? But something made you believe that this isn’t how he normally is. He’s hiding a type of shyness underneath those bold messages and actions. This Hyunjin isn’t the one that you’ve been described, this is a different Hyunjin.

Your mind was blank. What do you even reply to that? In search for answers you texted Felix, knowing he wouldn’t give you a good answer but at least some emotional support.

[y/n] Lixie, what does one reply to the question “Slept well?”

[Felix] You don’t, you pack up your things and you leave.

[y/n] You dickhead

[Felix] That’s my charm y/n~

If you could punch someone through the screen you would punch Felix. Returning back to the message that Hyunjin sent you, you quickly typed something down and sent it.

[y/n] Yeah, fine! Everything well with you?

[Hyunjin] Yes, it’s fine. See you later then, y/n

The porridge infront of you had cooled down, now being a sloppy mess of oats with a spoon slowly sinking into the substance. You stared at the message before your gaze returned to the breakfast bowl. This wasn’t going to be an easy day.

♡

The clock ticked as your stomach was filling up with butterflies, one by one.

“This is a casual meeting not a date, y/n” you mumbled as you tapped your foot, standing infront of the multiple racks of clothing in your slightly stuffy walk-in closet. You rarely wore even half of the clothes. Most of the pieces were sent by companies or given to you after photoshoots, this being both a blessing and a curse.

Your hand gravitated towards a white blouse with puffy sleeves because it reminded you of him. You shook your head wanting to get the thought out of your head. You hated that you cared so much about him but at the same time you knew why. Because he ignited a feeling of longing. A feeling called love.

Snatching the blouse from it’s hanger you digged through your drawers and fished up a pair of beige colored wide pants. You glanced at the brown watch on your wrist as you stepped into the pants, pulling off your pyjama top in one swift motion before putting on the flowy blouse. You looked in the mirror, combing through your hair with your fingers and reaching for a pair of pearl earrings that rested in a small tray infront of the mirror. Turning around, you observed the shelf that displayed the dozens of shoes in your possession, all while tilting your head and putting on the small pearls. Varnished heels would be good, right? Stretching out your arm to grab the heels, your gaze feel on your watch. As usual, you were going to be late and you hoped with every bit of your mind that Hyunjin wouldn’t find you rude. With the heels on you grabbed your purse, throwing in your keys that were decorated with keychains off all shapes and sizes as you staggered out the door.

The breeze hit your face as you made your way down the street, the heels clicked against the broad stone sidewalk making both women and men turn their heads. Lucky for you, Hyunjin chose the cafe where you happened to know somebody working at.

That somebody being your friend Seungmin.

You see, when you were just starting your career money was an issue. Your family wasn’t well off and when you set out to find your calling in the big city without a stable job your family was worried to say the least. You moved into a small apartment that more looked like a mouse burrow than an apartment. Holding a bag of trash you went down to the lobby of the apartment complex, the trashcan reeking as you lifted the lid and quickly threw in the bag, bending your spine backwards with a disgusted look on your face. Walking back you accidentally knocked down a paper that was resting on a corkboard by just how fast you walked passed. The light yellow paper landed infront of your feet, halting your movements. You picked it up.

« Searching for barista assistent »

The pay wasn’t too bad and neither were the working hours and so you folded the paper and went back into the apartment, smiling as you thought that this was the moment when everything changed.

And it did. Seungmin became one of your first friends in the city, right after Felix came into your life. You have very fond memories of that cafe. Working late nights with Seungmin, drinking coffee to stay awake through the late hours.

“What’s your dream, y/n?” Seungmin asked on one of the first days, still not knowing who you were and what your goals in this big city was.

“I-i want to become a model” you muttered underneath your breath, scared that he was going to belittle you and crush your dreams into nothing but fine powder.

“I believe in you, y/n” he said in a low voice, wiping the counter, not making eye contact as you stood on the other side.

Silence overtook the empty cafe, the low humming of cars on the road being the only noise that was heard before you cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes and leaning against the counter.

“Thank you Seungmin, that means a lot” you said before the silence took over again.

You swore you could’ve cried right then and there. Hearing those words when being in such a vulnerable situation really did mean a lot to you. His words stuck with you and in every interview where the interviewer asked about what you want to tell to aspiring models you always said those words. “I believe in you.”

The neon pink open sign in the window was brightly lit, the silhouette of people sipping on their lattes and chatting could be seen from the outside of the reminiscent building that was covered in hops. You stepped in, your heels making a loud clicking noise on the dark walnut colored wood flooring.

“How can I hel- y/n!!” Seungmin looked up at you, standing infront of the espresso machine as steam was billowing out. The other co-workers gave you a glance before returning to their tasks.

“y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you?” he asked, you had contact on the phone but didn’t meet each other too much due to different schedules.

“Minnie! I’ve missed you!” you squealed out as he walked through the low wooden gate that seperated the working area from the rest of the cafe. Seungmin pulled you into a hug, warmness emitting onto you as your bodies touched.

“I’ve been good!” you continue, smiling as you pulled away from the hug seeing Seungmins waist defined by the strings of the apron wrapping around him, a kitchen towel hanging from his shoulder.

“But I have to tell you something, Seungmin” you say quietly making the dark haired boy tilt his head in question.

“I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin here in about 5″ you say with a smirk, knowing Seungmin would be jealous.

“Wait,,, the Hwang Hyunjin?!” he said a bit too loudly, alerting the customers before he turned to them with a embarrassed smile, bowing his head in an apology. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“He was the one that suggested it, I couldn’t help it” you answered to which Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“H-he knows about this place?” He was stunned as he looked into your warm eyes.

“Yeah? Such a coincidence right? I was sur-” Your sentence was cut short as Seungmin’s breath hitched and a cold breeze hit your back. You turned back and there he was.

Hyunjin.

His presence shined in the relativly small rustic cafe. A white t-shirt and black slacks decorated his well toned body, a long leather coat draping over his shoulders as his black boots shined perfectly. Multiple silver chains hanged around his neck and the rings from last time were boldly placed on his lanky fingers. The blonde boy is tightly gripping what looks to be brown leather computer clutch.

He waved awkwardly and you smiled sweetly his way, playfully hitting Seungmin whose mouth was wide open, looking at the dashing boy. Hyunjin walked over to you, the other guests staring and some of them already picking up their phones to capture this moment. He looked oddly stiff, mannerisms totally different from how you saw him last.

“Hi Hyunjin! uhm,,, this is my friend Seungmin, he works here.” you said, trying to initiate a conversation but only earning a wide eyed expression from Seungmin before Hyunjin spoke.

“Nice to meet you!” he smiled, his eyes forming into half-moons.

Seungmin snapped back to reality before bowing slightly, his eyes twinkling and his ruffled hair landing infront of his deep brown eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you, mr Hwang”

Hyunjin chuckles slightly at his cute gesture.

“Your cafe seemed charming” was the only thing he could response before looking at you and blushing.

“2 americanos, Minnie” you said, momentarily glancing at Hyunjin before staring down at your heels.

“It’s on me” Seungmin leaned in to whisper in your ear to which you giggled and looked at Hyunjin’s confused expression. You pointed at a table in the corner of the cafe with your chin, signaling to sit down.

As you walked over to the cedar table you couldn’t help but to wonder about his duality. He seemed so comfortale last time, talking to you with no problem and being as bold as to leave his number but now he seemed like a young school boy that wanted to ask his crush out. You started to understand what Felix meant by “people like him”.

You sat down on one of the wooden chairs with steel details, the only thing seperating you from Hyunjin being the light ash table. He pulls out his computer, clicking away as you observe his perfect features. His concentrated eyes were fierce but had a soft gaze, his plush pink lips being soft, perfect for kissing you thought as your eyes drifted to his adams apple that bobbed everytime he swallowed.

Before Hyunjin could show you his screen Seungmin came over, shyly placing the drinks on the table and striking his sweet smile your way to which you laughed inaudibly until he went back behind the counter, observing the action from afar.

Hyunjin cleared his throath nervously as he turned his computer to show you the colorful photos, looking at your judging gaze in reassurance as he sipped on his americano.

You were amazed. The photoshoot seemed simple when you modelled but no one could have ever guessed that by just looking at the photo. It had a touch of charisma. The angles, the lighting and the editing made this originally plain photo look dimentional while still having a youthful touch with the pastels.

“W-what do you think?” He said, looking at the screen as his ring finger flicked through the pictures, pressing on the right arrow key on the keyboard.

“It’s amazing, no wonder you’re so famous” you said while grabbing your americano without lifting your gaze from the enticing photos. Heat rose to Hyunjin’s cheeks upon hearing your words. Sure, he’d heard it before but not from you. Not in that cute, geniune voice that ringed through his ears like music.

“Thank you y/n” he said, his gaze drifting over to you. He was stunned from how beautiful you looked in the cozy ambiance of the cafe. A wall plant descended down behind you as your eyes twinkled when you caught eye contact with the blond boy. Everything he wanted to do right now was to capture your beauty, make this moment last forever.

“Earth to Hyunjin” you said, giggling as his gaze froze on you, feeling your heated cheeks get even hotter.

“Uhm,,, s-sorry, wanna get some sneak peaks from other photoshoots?”

You nodded excitingly, feeling special but also questioning why he treated you so specially. He was shy, theres no doubt about that but it almost seems like he trusts you. You move your chair closer to him, wanting to see the screen properly before you notice Hyunjin shifting awkwardly in his seat, not used to being this close to you.

“H-here are some I took last week, another one of mr Styliz many projects” he smiled timidly before taking another sip of his beverage.

Once again you were amazed by his talent but what caught your attention even more was how undressed the female model was, her curvy body being covered by nothing more than a short glittery dress with a plunging neckline, displaying her cleavage. In her hands there was a delicate red bottle, decorated with art deco lines.

“What was the concept?” you asked, curious of this sensual vibe that emitted from this photo.

“Something along the lines of elegancy. It’s for Aurora Perfumes”

He namedropped the famous brand in the most colloquial fashion, seemingly an everyday occurence for him.

“Y-you worked for Aurora? That’s,,, wow” you were speechless as Hyunjin quietly giggled at your reacting, waveing his hand in the air in disagreement.

“I don’t like to b-brag about my career so hopefully I don’t come across that way” he said, almost worryingly.

“No! Not all, it’s really impressive, your entire career is.”

Your sweet voice made his heart flutter, never before had he heard compliments sound this pleasant.

“Why did you become a photographer?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling over as he looked at you with his penetrating brown eyes. The mood suddenly got cold. Hyunjin took a deep breath, exhaling loudly from his nose as you sipped on your coffee.

“I’m an only child and therefore I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was younger.”

You knew this was going to be a sad story, you bit the inside of your cheek, regretting asking that question as you thought that it might be too personal but judging from how Hyunjin’s words spilled from his mouth you believed that he felt comfort telling you.

“They had photoalbums stacked up in their attic which I flipped through for hours, observing their youth and innocence and seeing how time fled by. When I got my first camera I was overjoyed, taking pictures of everything around me and putting them up on my wall, acting as if my room was an art gallery.”

He smiled when talking, his voice turning mellow as he reminisced.

“But when my grandparents passed away,,, I noticed that I didn’t have any photos of them nor of my friends or family which made me feel disappointed. I had spent so much of my time trying to capture beauty when beauty was infront me.”

Shivers ran down your spine as his sugared voice ran through the words. Hyunjin looked nervously down on the table and you did the same, not knowing what to say or how to comfort the blond boy.

“I-I’m sorry for your loss”

That was the only sentence you could muster to say but Hyunjin glanced at you, his dimples appearing as he smiled.

“Why are you sorry? No one usually asks me that question so it feels nice to get it off my chest.”

You nodded shyly as silence erupted in between the two of you.

“It really was a pleasure working with you y/n, I would like to have you modell for me again” he blurts out, trying to put an end to the painful silence.

“Y-you what? B-but my manager hasn’t told me anything ab-”

“No, just the two of us.”

You went quiet, not believing your ears. A photoshoot, the two of you? Isn’t that practically a confession? Your dazed mind seemed to wander off to places far off, imagining the tension that would be looming over the both of you. Felix sure as hell wasn’t going to like this but you didn’t care. Hyunjin seemed comfortable with you, talking as if he’d known you for years and now he was asking you to modell for him? Saying no to this opportunity would be a crime.

“S-sure, when were you thinking?”

“You free tomorrow?” Hyunjin says, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs comfortably, looking up at you through a curtain of blonde.

“Yeah,,, sounds great!”

A smile crept up on your face as heat rose to your cheeks, feeling everything and nothing all at once. In this moment you didn’t care about the shutter coming from the guests phone cameras. You just cared about him.

The next half an hour went by in a blur. In that short time you probably covered half of the conversational topics on this earth. Hyunjin laughed as you told him about your childhood.

“That’s so cute y/n”

“Well it wasn’t cute in the moment but now I can laugh at it” you laughed with him, stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I think you’re cute y/n”

“Of course I was cute when I was little” you roll your eyes at him, tears prickling in your eyes from laughter but when you glanced at Hyunjin he wasn’t laughing, he was simply observing you.

“I think you’re cute now”

You froze. All these things he’s saying made your heart beat faster than ever, a nervosity that couldn’t be described with words.

“You too” you exclaimed without thinking to which Hyunjin glanced at you with a grin. He coughed before streching his arms.

“Time to head home?” He said, packing up his computer.

“Yeah, I have something to do” you said looking at your watch, knowing very well that you had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day except for anxiously thinking out every potential scenario that could occur tomorrow.

“Meet me at my studio tomorrow at 5 pm”

You nodded carefully, knowing exactly where his famous studio was.

“Don’t tell Bangchan I showed you the photos” he laughed mischievously, looking a bit like a ferret.

“Alright, alright I won’t even though I really want to tell him how good of a photographer you are” you said cheekily as you stood up. The both of you headed towards the wooden door with glass panes, flashing a wink towards Seungmin that had his eyebrows heightened, amazed from how the little cafe lit up with two attractive people walking side by side.

Outside the sun beamed, the bustling of the city and high skyscrapers stimulating your senses.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow Hyunjin”

You scratch the back of your neck nervously as you speak before remembering something.

“Oh! Do you have a concept in mind?”

“Wear whatever, I’ll think of a way around it” he said.

“Mhm! See you tomorrow!”

“Text me when you’re home, ok?”

That sentence made your heart flutter and before you could embarrass yourself by saying anything stupid he waved, his rings shining in the sunlight. Turning around, you promptly started walking back home.

Your heart thumping, your thoughs scattered, your mind dazed.

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll

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glitxhwayventeen · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Kind Of Love…

Wonwoo: Chapter 2 (All I Ask)

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut (it got dirty fast my bad), breeding kinks, creampie, oral sex (female), pet names, dirty talk, biting (but y’all knew that this was a wolf fic so you should’ve been known about that one), angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, cheating (maybe?), violence mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to All I Ask by Adele. The song just has this need to it that I was trying to convey in this chapter. It was just really… necessary.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Some 🥀, a little ☁️ towards the end, but mainly 💋

A Different Kind Of Love… Master List

Chapter 2: All I Ask

“What- what do you mean you aren’t ready for it?” Wonwoo asked, still so completely stunned at your last remark, he was unsure that you had actually said it.

You had moved to his room as you wanted to head back inside once it had started to rain. He ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration before he looked back to you for an answer.

“I mean, your girlfriend JUST tried to kill me in a fit of jealousy. But I thought SHE was your mate, not me. I’ve- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. How am I supposed to just jump into one with you when yours isn’t even really over yet? Everything’s too… messed up” You explained, sitting down on his bed, brushing out your soaked locks with your fingers.

“I know it’s not really… normal. But we’re wolves. None of what we do is normal…” Wonwoo tried to reason as he resettled his glasses on his face after having cleaned the water droplets off of them.

“No it’s not. But being a wolf doesn’t give me the right to be a home wrecker. How am I supposed to be with you knowing that I’m the reason your relationship is ending?” You questioned, tears starting to brim your vision when you looked down at your hands to distract yourself from your anger at the entire situation you found yourself in, “I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s misery. Even if I never really thought she was a good person, Song deserves better than this. I mean, have you even broke up with her yet?” You managed to whimper out.

“Of course I did!” Wonwoo defended himself, “Or at least, I thought I did. I didn’t necessarily say those exact words, but she knows she fucked up too badly to continue coming back here.” He spoke, seeming to be trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You scoffed in annoyance and crossed your arms over your chest in a huff.

“So you didn’t ACTUALLY end things with her? See this is what the fuck I’m talking about! You ARE just as confused as I KNOW I am. How the hell are we supposed to be with each other? I refuse to just be some sort of mistress to somebody, even if my instincts are telling me otherwise. Whether you’re my mate or not, I can resist them” you declared, looking him dead in the eyes with complete seriousness.

“But I can’t! I’ve been trying. It’s not working! I’m already in love with you. I don’t care what happens with Song. Sure I’ll always care about her because of everything we’ve been through together, but I love YOU. I want YOU.” He responded, getting closer to you on his bed and taking your face in his hands.

Your heart started to race at the minimal contact. His hands were so warm and soft, you could’ve just started to melt into them with ease. Usually you’d have asked for your space, but you felt comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you loved him touching you. It had been SO hard for you to stay away from him during your stay, you truly wondered how you were able to keep from going insane.

“I know you can’t fight it for much longer. I know your heart speeds up when I walk into the room. I know you can’t think when we’re in the same room. I know that you look at me like I’m the only reason you wake up in the morning.” He continued as he started to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know you feel the same dizziness I feel whenever you get close to me. I know that me touching you sends lightening through your every vein because that all happens to me whenever I’m with you. I don’t care about anything else anymore. I just want you to be mine already. I NEED you to be mine already.” He said in desperation while biting his lip, still holding your decision torn face between his hands.

He was tired of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to rub one out from sheer thought of knowing you were in the next room behind Song’s back. He NEEDED to actually have you soon or he was worried he’d physically explode. He was about to start his rut and, although he’d NEVER EVER guilt or push you into having sex with him for it, every part of him was begging to touch you to relieve the aches he was beginning to feel. He was hoping if he could calm your anxieties about the situation that you’d want him as much as he’d want you. He already knew he had an affect on your more than you were willing to admit.

A deafening silence started to overtake the both of you. You didn’t want to start anything with him until things were sorted. But God, you wanted the same thing as he did. It made you sooo angry to see him with Song, but you didn’t understand why until now. Now, knowing he was your mate, you realized it was the primal jealousy you held from another woman being that close to him. You had wanted him from the very start, but you always had to hold yourself back out of respect for their pre-existing relationship.

You weren’t really sure where they stood at that moment, but you were starting to not care. Him being so close to you and not actually touching you where you wanted him to made you feel like you were going to catch fire. He smelled like Heaven, and his slight touch made you begin to lose your better judgement. His presence was started to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

He was the first one of you to speak up again, “I know we still have so much to figure out.” Put it out of your head. No matter how much you need him and his plush lips right now.

“And I know that you’re worried about feeling guilt over Song,” Don’t do it. Control yourself!

“But please, if there’s any guilt let it be all on me.” You’re gonna regret it, no matter how phenomenal he smelt. You’re stronger than this. RESIST.

“A- All I Ask is that you at least give us a chance before-” Oh Fuck it, you thought before you quickly interrupted him with a passionate kiss, stopping him from speaking any further.

He was clearly dumbfounded by your sudden actions that had contradicted your previous statements. Even so, he reciprocated immediately anyways, kissing you so roughly that your teeth clashed together. Everything that followed happened in a blur.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it upward. He caught your hint quite fast and all but tore his shirt off, barely even breaking the kiss in the process.

You then locked your hands behind his neck and jerked him as close to you as you possibly could, raising yourself to your knees in the process. He growled lowly before he ripped your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your shorts and bra.

He put his hands on your hips and pushed you down on the bed. He threw his body to hover over yours and feverishly reattached your lips. Your tongues started fighting for dominance, though he inevitably won the battle.

Your wrapped your right leg around him and attempted to use it as leverage to grind against his pelvis, needing some sort of friction to satisfy the growing hunger between your legs. He groaned into the kiss before he pulled himself back.

He gave you a dirty smirk before he grabbed your leg and used it to push you up the bed slightly, giving him better access to your shorts. He slid them and your panties off in one go before he lowered himself down to your heat.

You soon felt his lips attach themselves to your clit, he drew in one harsh suck that drove you crazy. Your hands found their way to his hair and you tugged at the locks, letting out a high pitched whine due to his action. He repeated it a few more times, just to be an tease. He liked watching you squirm because of something he had done. It made him feel powerful, and you looked fucking gorgeous while doing it.

After he was done with his little game, he had his tongue run up and down your slit before he thrust two fingers into your tight entrance, knowing he had to stretch you so he could have you the way he really wanted to. This caused you to take in a breath of air and gasp loudly. It was music to his ears. He didn’t even mind the death grip you had on his hair, it just egged him to keep going.

He started to scissor his fingers before he added a third into you. It was getting harder and harder for you to control your volume, if the others could hear, they’d be deaf by morning. He was making you feel so good, your legs had started shaking. Before you knew it, they locked around his head and your vision went white.

As you came back down to Earth, you started to become sensitive from the orgasm you had just had. Wonwoo was still licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves, the feeling hurting so bad but so good. You let him continue his actions for a bit longer, jerking every now and then from your vulnerability.

Eventually. the overstimulation got the best of you and you started to push away from him, earning a smirk and small chuckle from him. He wiped his mouth off before he stood up and brought his wet fingers to his lips, cleaning your release from them.

Watching you come undone so easily beneath him had his cock begging to be released from it’s restraints. So he quickly rid himself of his jeans and boxers he was wearing. You had propped yourself up on your elbows and licked your lips when you saw his member bounce back to his abs as it was freed. God, he was huge. You absolutely could not wait to have him inside you.

You motioned for him to come back to you, which he did gladly, crawling his way back up the bed. You grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and crashed your lips back to his again, tasting what remained of your juices on his tongue. The kiss continued as he slowly lowered you to lay back down on your back.

He moved his mouth down to your neck and began to leave small love bites, earning little mewls from you. He had used his left hand to steady himself and used his other to unhook your bra, getting a full view of your chest. He trailed his bites down to the mounds of your breasts before he took one of your nipples in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud, flicking the other nipple with his fingers so it wouldn’t be left out.

He unlatched his mouth from your breast with a small ‘pop’ sounds and started kissing you again, grabbing his member in one hand and smearing the beads of precum that had gathered at his slit down his shaft. He began rubbing his tip up and down your opening, partly to tease you and partly to give you time to back out if you wanted. He halted the kiss, earning a small whine from you which caused a proud smile to appear on his face.

“Are you sure about this (Y/N)? We can stop if you want to” he said as he pushed some stray hairs behind your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Yes I’m sure. Now PLEASE just get inside me before I scream” you joked, sort of anyways, placing a peck on his nose. You thought it was sweet how much he cared about your comfort, but you serious just needed him to plow you like a corn field.

He positioned his tip at your entrance before he stopped one last time to look at you asking for approval, to which you nodding your head gently. You grabbed his biceps, readying yourself for the pain that was about to come.

Wonwoo thought it would be best to get the pain part over with as quickly as possible. So he lifted your chin and kissed you to distract you from your nerves and relax you before he pushed himself fully inside you all in one go.

“Oh fuck!” you all but screamed out, gripping his arms tighter, your nails no doubt having left marks on his soft skin

“Shit.” Wonwoo says through gritted teeth as he tried to control himself.

He wanted to start fucking you into next week already, but he didn’t want to move before you were ready. So he held still, using every bit of strength he had to hold himself back.

A small tear slipped down the side of your cheek as a reaction from the sudden feeling of being so full. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed your lips.

“I’m sorry princess. Do you want to stop?” He asked eyes full of concern and worry. You gave him a short kiss back.

“No. I’m okay now. Please keep going. I really need you to keep going”

And, ever the eager people pleaser he was, he started to pull out almost completely before he pushed back in to you with a groan.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. I dont know how much you’ll be able to take baby” he half joked to you. He nibbled on the sweet spot under your ear and continued his previous action again and again, making you see stars.

“I- I can take all of it. I’ll take anything you give me. Just please, go fast. I- I need you to go faster.” You whimpered out, attempting to meet his thrusts with your hips.

Your words lit a fire in him he couldn’t explain. The thought of you asking him to give you all he had sent an unexplained excitement through his veins. He didn’t know what it was about them that made it happen. But one thing was for sure, he was gonna give you everything he possibly could and he was gonna make sure you took all of it like a good girl.

He quickly sped up his thrusts to an almost inhumane pace, watching every pretty face you made in the process. You started chanting for him to ‘please go deeper.’ And who was he to deny you something when you were being so polite?

So he grabbed one of your legs that you had wrapped around him and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh God right there! Fuck please don’t stop!” You yelled out, dragging your nails down his back leaving bright red lines, some of which must’ve broken skin.

He smiled to himself as your eyes screwed shut at the pleasure he was giving you, small pleas and thank yous leaving your lips in rhythm with his thrusts.

He lowered his eyes to watch himself disappear into you as he pounded you harder and harder. You had never had sex before today and yet, here you were, taking him like a good little cockslut. Fuck. You were incredible.

“You’re doing so good baby. You look so good on my cock” he groaned out, laying his forehead on your shoulder.

“Come on princess, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel. Let everyone know who owns this pretty little cunt.” He cooed at you when he realized you had started to bite his shoulder in an effort to muffle your noises.

You whine in response, knowing normally you wouldn’t have wanted people to know about something so private, but also starting to lose focus on your priorities as his cock started brushing up against that special spot inside you.

“Oh Fuck Wonwoo! Right there! Fuck do that again!” You moaned out, begging him to repeat what he had just done. He smiled to you smuggly.

“Oh you mean right…” he teased as he fixed his position to touch your sweet spot again before you started to scream out in euphoria, “there?”

“Yes yes yes! Fuck yes! Don’t stop! God please don’t ever stop!” You choked out, starting to lose yourself to the immense pleasure he was giving you.

“Well I’m gonna have to in a minute baby. I’m almost there and I’ll need to pull out” he reminded you while tilting his head backward to try and hold his orgasm off just a little bit longer to get you there again.

“Fuck I- I don’t care! Cum inside me then! Just please don’t stop!” You wail, holding onto Wonwoo for dear life at this point.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot wide open at your words, “Princess I could get you pregnant if I do that. You don’t want that” he spoke while begging any fucking god listening to give him the strength to say no to your request.

“Ye- Yes I do. Fuck please cum in me Wonwoo! Please! I want you to fill me up! I want everyone to know I’m yours!” You sobbed, getting so close to your high tears were now freely falling down your face.

Wonwoo’s eyes went bright red. Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him. “Is that what you want baby? For me to fill you up? To get you nice and pregnant so everyone can see your belly and know you’re mine? So everyone’ll know you’re my little cumslut?” He responded, pounding into you harder and harder as he neared his high.

“Yes please! Fuck please! I want your baby! I want you to fill me up! I wanna be your dirty little cum slut! Make me yours” You screamed as his words sent you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. You asked him to get you pregnant and every instinct in him told him to do it, he was starting his rut. To hell with the consequences. If anything happened, he’d take care of you and everything would be fine. You were his mate after all. He’d breed you some day anyways, why not today?

His fangs elongated as he drew closer to his own orgasm. He sunk them into the apex between your neck and shoulder, the feeling pushing you over the edge. The pleasure mixed with the pain drove you to a release so amazing, you never even thought it possible. And it sent him to his as well. The last thing you remember was feeling his hot cum jet against your walls right as the darkness took over you.

“Well looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up” Wonwoo stated as he kissed your nose. You noticed he didn’t have his shirt on, you did. You didn’t remember putting it on…

“What- what happened…?” You groaned out, still pretty groggy from the activities of the previous night.

“We fucked. You passed out after. You must’ve either been super exhausted or super fucked up from cumming really hard.” He said matter of factly while he rubbed your back.

“I think it was the second one” You pieced together as you tried to sit up, soon realizing that your muscles didn’t want to work.

“Considering you were so out of it you were begging me to knock you up, I’d go with number two too” he joked while massaging your sore thigh.

“I- I did that?” You questioned, shocked that you had gotten that fucked up.

“Well… yeah. Don’t worry. We can get you the day after pill when we go to the market today. Of course… you’ll have to cover this…” he responded while moving your hair behind yout shoulder, pointing out the bite he had left on you.

“You marked me??” Your eyes widened at the thought, had you SERIOUSLY been SO fucked out that you didn’t even remember him biting you? You seriously were so lost in cumming that you didn’t realize he marked you as his?

“Yeah I guess I did…” Wonwoo whispered as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I hardly even remember doing it. I remember you saying you wanted me to cum inside of you. I remember how that made me have this sudden primal urge to make you mine, then everything went blurry.”

“It- It’s okay. I can’t really be mad if I was literally asking you to… well you know. We both ended up getting pretty fucked out huh?” You joked, a small smile forming as you spoke.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked out is a bit of an understatement. But still, I’m sorry for the unintentional marking and mating. I can’t really do anything about the marking… but we can at least help the mating thing by getting you that weird pill” he shrugged out, already getting ready to put his jeans back on.

“Wait!” You stopped him by grabbing his arm, surprising both him and yourself with the action. He looked back at you with confusion plastered all over his face.

“What? Isn’t taking it as early as possible better?” He questioned, your hand still holding his arm.

“Yeah… but I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m kinda sore. So do we… absolutely have to get it…?” You wondered aloud, trying your best to convey to him what you were trying to say.

“I- uh if you don’t want to get pregnant… kinda?” He stuttered out, now grabbing your petite hand in his large one and placing a little kiss to the center of it’s palm.

“What if- what if I don’t mind it? Getting pregnant I mean. Do we have to go get it…? Unless you want me to take it…?” You trailed on. His eyes widened and his heart rate sped up. Were you saying what he thought you were saying?

“Are you saying- are you saying that you’d actually be okay if I just got you pregnant?” He gulped, hand still encasing yours.

“Well… yeah. Kind of? I mean- we’re already mates right? We already know we’ll be together till the day we die. So I don’t see why it matters if we have a kid now or twenty years from now” you explained cautiously, hoping you didn’t just freak the poor wolf out. He looked back at you, his face completely unreadable.

“If- if you’re okay with it then- Yeah that’s- that’s fine. We don’t have to go get it if you don’t want. We can just stay here and uh… talk?” He let out very questionably, still not completely sure what to say. After everything you had said to him about… well- about everything, he had NEVER expected those words to come out of your mouth.

“Are you… mad? Because we can go get the pill if you-” you started, worried that you had in fact, upset him with your request.

“No- no! I’m not mad. Just… kind of shocked is all. I didn’t think that you’d… be okay with something like that so soon” he defended, holding his hands up in the air as a way to stop you from talking any further.

“Oh. Yeah well… me either really. But I’m not… absolutely hating the idea, ya know? I mean I’m not saying ‘I want a baby right this second so let’s keep going till I get pregnant’ or anything. But I just mean- if it happens, it happens. Why try to fight it if we’re supposed to be together anyways? Unless you hate the idea then I-” You say, slightly losing steam at the end of your sentence, while looking down and biting your lip.

“Hey” Wonwoo said while lifting your chin with his hand, “I dont hate the idea either. I know what you’re saying and… I feel the same way about it” he admitted with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Really? You’re not mad or gonna like freak out?” You quizzed him, still very worried that he was a mess inside and was just hiding it fo your sake.

“Really. I’m not mad and I’m not gonna freak. What you’re saying, it makes sense. I already know I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Hell, I’ve already marked and mated you, so why try and stop it if we’d both be okay with it.” He added taking your hand and kissing it once more, this time with love and adoration in his eyes rather than concern.

“Okay. Good. Now that that’s settled… can we lay back down now before you start your mating season? I’m in a bit of pain and kind of need to get my strength back before I have to deal with you for a whole week” you declared, earning a small laugh from Wonwoo.

“Yeah baby. We can lay back down. Come on” he chuckled out as he quickly moved under the sheets to lay beside you.

“Better?” He asked, playing with your hair as you laid on his chest.

“Better.” You answered before you snuggled further into him.

You knew that you trusted Wonwoo and that you loved and cared for him more than you did yourself. You may not have planned how today went, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. No matter what hardships decided to come your way…

Another Author’s Note: Ahhh. This was a fun chapter. Wonwoo’s next chapter is where it’ll really start to hit home. I’m not that good at writing smut but honestly, something about this boy makes me always wanna just smash my lips to his and fuck him. Don’t know why. Don’t know if I’m the only one. Either way, I promised smut for his chapter and I delivered as best as I could.

(Updated 9/6)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #svt wonwoo #wonwoo #svt wonu #seventeen wonu #wonu x reader

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer.

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes.

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just… two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance.

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind.

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded.

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries.

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them.

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it.

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.”

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening.

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today, no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown.

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round.

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now.

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles.

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye.

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults.

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.”

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told.

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire.

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down.

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?”

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat.

“Fuck!”

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor.

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading.

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife.

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance.

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

“Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal.

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.”

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin.

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain.

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly.

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. .

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest.

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.”

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me.

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees.

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly.

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him.

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…” he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms.

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.”

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again.

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now.

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine.

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name.

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x OFC #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader

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ohheyitsokay · 4 years ago

Text

slowly

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x (f) ace!reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: discussions of sex and related topics, maybe some angst? a lot more analogies than actual descriptions

Summary: a drive in theatre, a budding relationship, and a whole lot of mutual support

Notes: okay obviously this is a wildly personal topic - I fully understand that asexuality looks different for everyone. For full disclosure, in this story, the reader knows they are somewhere on the asexuality spectrum, but is not aromantic. They are also are on a path of self discovery and are open to learning about themselves. This IS NOT saying asexuals who are like this are growing "better" than those who are not interested. Asexuals who do know what they do and dont want are perfect and do not need to change or compromise as part of their personal growth.

There will be an optional part 2 where they have more conversations about intimacy and explore together what works for them, but again, this is not everyone's story, or the "right" way, it's just... one story.

That being said, I genuinely hope yall enjoy!

You stared at the bashful man in front of you openly, your hands stilling on the groceries you were halfway done unloading.

Even the slightest rustle of the cloth bags was painfully loud in the silence that stretched between you.

Jack had burst through your door, confident as always, but it was a thin layer over his anxious heart. With two long strides, he was pulling you into his arms, almost crushing you against his chest.

Arms winding around his middle, you held him just as tightly before you found your voice again.

“You’re back,” you said, simply amazed that he was a whole week early from the long mission. “When did you get back?”

You hadn’t realized he had picked you up until your feet were on solid ground again, and he was pulling away.

“Just a few hours ago, I had to make it back in time for opening night, right?” he grinned winningly.

You tried not to overthink, feeling a jolt of excitement that he remembered – tonight. The drive-in theatre in town was opening for the season and you had been more than excited. As one of your most consistent movie night friends, Jack had promised to take you, full of butterflies and subtext.

For as close as you’d gotten over the past few months, you weren’t sure what to make of his expression.

“If that’s okay? I should’ve double checked,” you hadn’t responded and it was apparently making him nervous.

“Yeah, Jack, that sounds great,” you reassured him, turning back to your groceries, equally nervous.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t expected him to remember because it had almost felt like an off-hand comment at the time, and you hadn’t wanted to get your hope up to much.

Something was welling in your stomach as you turned away from him fully, putting each item in its respective home in your kitchen. You liked him, of course you liked him. He was bold and kind and passionate, and more handsome than seemed reasonable for a single person. And… and when he was nearby, there was a feeling of safety, just out of reach, like water lapping at your feet at the beach.

It was more than tempting but, same as the ocean, there was also an uneasiness in the unknown. The same uneasiness was present in every relationship you’d ever had – because you had a secret.

Well, it was less of a secret and more… something you were figuring out that you hadn’t talked about much. Despite long late night talks and months of growing close and even slowly falling for each other, you hadn’t quite found the courage to talk to Jack about it yet. The more real the soft, sweet moments between you got, the more the unease filled your bones. You knew how he was with other women, and each time his hand lingered on your hip, your shoulder, your cheek, a quiet voice whispered that he deserved better.

Jack was staring at you, lost in your thoughts as you mechanically worked your way through the bags. His heart ached for you, and he wished more than anything that you trusted him with whatever you were holding back. But he was a determined man – he would do whatever he could to show you that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

After awhile, Jack coaxed you back to your normal self, telling you as much of his mission as he could and helping you cook dinner. Moving around your kitchen was wonderfully peaceful, a little bubble of intimacy. Food was great for neutralizing anxious thoughts.

The feeling continued into his truck as you excitedly packed blankets and he fought the urge to kiss your adorable face when you found the snacks he’d picked up. Even before he left, in anticipation for tonight, he cleaned the front seat thoroughly, and made sure his radio was in good condition.

The movie went well too, but as much as he wanted to pull you into his arms, press you into his side, be the warmth against the cool night air, there was a hesitation that held him at bay.

Every time he’d reach for you, cautious and gentle, your skin would twitch, almost jumping away before you’d smile at him and lean into it. You seemed happy, but part of your mind was holding you back. As friends, you two were relatively physically affectionate, so he made a mental note to tread light and watch for more cues. Jack never wanted to impose himself on anyone but with you, even less.

So he waited. He had no doubt you’d talk to him when you were ready, and heavens knows that he had plenty of things he had kept buried. It was still nice, hearing you laugh next to him - just him – and seeing the light reflecting off the movie dance across your skin. Talking with you was always easy, even more so without friends or family around and it made Jack ache with eagerness.

As he pulled up to your home, he gently took your hand.

“Darlin, it was plum delightful to take you out tonight,” he said, cursing himself internally for how nervous he sounded. You looked his, eyes catching the streetlight like magic and your gentle squeeze gave him courage.

“I really would like to take you out again, on a proper date,” he couldn’t look away from your eyes, trying to read them through the murkiness. “I really like you,” Jack added, quieter, “but you don’t have to respond right now.”

You nodded, your eyes closing tight as though you were at war with yourself.

You think you like me, but I’m not the type of girl you want to date.

“You don’t have to… tell me, if you’re not ready, but,” he offered after a long moment, his free hand flexing on the steering wheel as he forced himself to examine the bushes on the side of the parking lot. “But I’m listening.”

You felt both hot and cold at the same time. All evening you could feel it coming, knew it was going to happen, knew it had to. He deserved this conversation, and honestly, if there was anyone who made you feel like you did, too, it was Jack.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale -

“Okay,” - exhale.

Remembering that neither of you had work the next day helped. Slowly you let go of your hand and unbuckled your seatbelt, shifting to get comfortable again, the actions thick with significance. He returned it, unbuckling too, and killing the engine.

Jack was so respectful you could cry, his obvious anxiety under control enough not to jump to conclusions – to wait for you.

“I like you, too, Jack, but I don’t think we can ever date,” you forced the words out and his heart nearly shattered, confusion barely holding it together.

Eyebrows so drawn in they almost looked like a solid line, he waited, unable to stop a small shake of his head.

Why not? His entire being screamed. With each second that passed, more and more determination seeped into the cracks of his heart, sticking it together. If you liked him as he liked you, it seemed impossible there was anything between you that couldn’t be overcome.

You saw the question in his eyes and the explanation tumbled out.

“It’s just, I know you – I know the girls you go after and the type of relationships most men want. And,” you were sucking in air, the vulnerability raking through your lungs. “And I don’t know if I can ever give you that.”

He started to protest before his hand covered his mouth, irritated movements over his mustache, his jaw working. What he wanted was you. But he needed to let you keep talking. If he interrupted you now, he might never understand what you meant.

You watched his movements, desperation to give him the explanation he deserved growing in you.

“I’ve had people break up with me because I wont sleep with them,” you shoved the words into the space, the most honest you’d maybe ever been.

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Your voice was trembling and so quiet only your moving lips confirmed the words as you continued.

“For me, it’s not something I need, or am particularly comfortable with. You,” you swallowed hard, unable to look at the man beside you. “You deserve someone you can be with, however you want.”

You took another deep breath, feeling light and surprisingly at peace with your honesty. Even the impending rejection felt less scary, now that you had said it all out loud. The trembles settled as you concluded, “I’m still figuring myself out and I just cant guarantee I’ll ever give you what you deserve.”

Of all the conversations with all the others before this, this moment felt the most freeing. It was wild to have such an intimate conversation before you even kissed, but… the foundation of trust that Jack had given you had not been lost on you. You found yourself smiling, looking at him, finally.

His expression had loosened, processing and connecting the dots, his deep eyes unfocused before they slid closed.

Now it was your turn to wait, to be patient, and listen.

Part of him wanted to yell that he wasn’t like the others, that he didn’t care and even that he would wait and work until you were ready. But that wasn’t right, and he knew it.

Inside him, deep, deep down, there was a small light. A candle of flame underneath a glacier: a touch of hope slowly warming its way through layers and layers and centuries of expectations, fear, confusion, and chaos. It was going strong, it just need more time.

“Darlin,” he looked at you, finally, meeting your eyes and feeling for the first time that they were a clear window into your soul. “You are… everything, to me. So… so let’s just take some time to process this. Would that be okay, sweetheart?”

That was the first time anyone had ever responded that way. It was the scariest thing, but it was perfect. You were overwhelmed with the rawness and a glance at the radio told you it was 2 am. Not a time to be making life altering decisions, anyway. Nodding, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. The movement was intimate and confident – something that shouldn’t have been possible, but it was.

Jack’s large hand grasped at your neck and jaw, pulling you into him, pressing his forehead on yours. The hairs of his mustache just ticked your lip, but he made no move, respecting one final boundary for the night.

With a squeeze, he let you go, watching with longing eyes as you hopped out of his truck and ran to your front door. The smile you gave him before you slipped inside was the seal, engraving tonight into his memories forever.

And he drove home, his thoughts louder than the wind and the crickets and his pounding heart.

Jack invited you over a few days later, a Sunday afternoon. It would be the first time you’d talked, and you were surprisingly calm. For some reason, you felt like you’d be closer to him no matter what happened.

He heard your car on the long gravel driveway and greeted you with an all-encompassing hug. You held each other, like lifelines, for long moments before he pulled you inside.

“My mama sent cookies,” he said, motioning for you to sit at the tall table he had as he set down the plate. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing their Sunday lunches and her beloved baking well. He remained standing across from you, aware of the awkwardness, but eager to get his words right.

“This is all new to me,” he said, wishing suddenly that he’d made tea so his throat wouldn’t feel so dry. “If you really don’t wanna be with me, that’s your choice,” he said, knowing it was right and hating the option, “but I really – you’re just so – I can’t let you go,” his thoughts were jumbling together on his tongue.

It was grounding, when your hands found his, reaching across the table as you sat forward on your stool.

“What if we just took it slow?” you said, and his heart stopped.

“Please,” he managed, and your own chest felt like it would burst. “Would it be alright, darlin?” Jack’s hands held yours, his expression eager.

“Could – could we figure out what works for us? Figure this all out together?” You were close to crying, you wanted that so bad.

“I can’t promise I’ll change or… or what direction I’ll grow,” you said, needing to say it again, needing to be sure.

“I can’t, either, darlin,” he said, and you realized he was right and you would support each other, no matter what.

“But all I need is you. Whatever and however much you’ll give me. That’s more than enough.”

He didn’t say for now.

And you believed him.

Since he was still standing, it made it easy for you to tug him around the table, and you leaned into his chest. It felt safe, safer than you had ever thought was possible for you.

“Okay,” you told the flannel he was wearing, “Let’s figure it out together.” And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was smiling, too.

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @0celestialbitch0 @scribbledghost

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #ace!reader #ace reader #maybe i don't know people

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons | many thanks to @joonsrack for her translations and @jooneggs for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds.

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return.

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways.

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere.

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo?

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic.

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again.

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.”

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval.

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him.

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head.

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.”

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal.

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside.

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle.

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would.

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more.

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible.

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do.

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.”

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you.

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms.

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt.

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more.

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in.

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction.

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go.

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it.

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather.

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction.

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice.

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned.

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile.

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.”

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?”

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes.

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments.

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen.

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air.

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth.

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit? The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes.

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence.

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now.

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?”

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice.

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly.

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot.

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?”

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him.

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch.

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes.

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face.

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine.

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.”

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength.

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core.

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing.

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth.

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan.

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations.

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?”

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement.

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation.

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity.

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @saikokirastuff @kim-ji-woo-hoo

@starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats

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The rest will be in the comments!

Unable to tag @risefallrise @btsphdotcom @kitty-queen-13 @stardust-and-ashes@crazykpopaddict @positivelyjada @paradisetaemin @awixxx @litty-dumb @passionate-love-57911 @sweeneyblue1 @carrooooooooo @purplepearl07

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sincerelystranger · 4 years ago

Text

not enough 7

Life goes on.

Wei Wuxian stays alive in the Burial Mounds.

His daughter births a beautiful baby boy.

Jiang Cheng begins to take on more and more responsibilities for the sect.

Life goes on and it’s strange and different, but it’s… good.

Jiang Fengmian begins to think his wife is wrong. Maybe the war really is over.

He bounces little Jin Ling on his lap. It must be over, he thinks as A-Ling giggles up at him delightedly. Such light could not exist in war. Such happiness could not survive in war.

It must be over.

He looks over to where Yanli and her husband are sitting together. Their whispering to each other and smiling like two young children lost in their own world. Their love for each other is so open and obvious that it’s a little embarrassing for Jiang Fengmian to watch them.

“Give him here,” his wife says next to him, taking A-Ling from his lap. “You’ve had him all morning.”

Yanli giggles at his wife’s actions. “Did you dote on us like this, mother?” she asks, a cheeky smile hidden beneath her sleeve,

Sometime between getting married and having a child, Yanli’s relationship with his wife changed. No longer does Yanli go still and quiet around her, and his wife no longer seems to be so frustrated by her… weakness.

They seem almost like friends at times.

“Neither you nor Jiang Cheng were half as cute as A-Ling,” his wife replies tersely, her eyes glued to little A-Ling’s face. “My heart was not sufficiently moved enough to dote.”

A-Ling reaches his chubby hands out and places them on either side of his wife’s face.

It’s a little bit terrifying, but his wife smiles big and delighted. She coos at A-Ling and rubs her cheeks against his chubby palms.

It’s a strange enough sight that it shocks a little chuckle out of Jiang Fengmian.

His wife sends him a quick glare when she hears him laugh. “What is so funny?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Jiang Fengmian answers quickly with a shake of his head. “It’s just… nice to see you so happy.”

She squints her eyes suspiciously but A-Ling quickly takes back her attention.

Jiang Fengmian sits back and watches his family contentedly. War really is over. And yes, he lost much but…

But maybe he made the right choices.

After all, Wei Wuxian is still alive and the Wen’s who helped save Jiang Fengmian and his wife are still alive.

And…

Well if Wei Wuxian still lived in Lotus Pier, there would be no way that Jin Guangshan would let him alone.

Knowing his old friend, he would probably stoop to using A-Ling as some sort of bargaining chip to get his hands on Wei Wuxian’s damned talisman.

It’s selfish and Jiang Fengmian knows it’s selfish, but the thoughts comfort him.

He had spent so many nights torturing himself over his decision to let Wei Wuxian go, but maybe time had shown him that he had made the right call.

Maybe, this happiness could not exist without letting... go.

Yanli stands suddenly and beings to wave.

“A-Cheng,” she says happily, “Where have you been?”

Jiang Fengmian smiles as he sees his son approach. Jiang Cheng is by far little A-Ling’s favorite person. He has this laugh that he only does for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Fengmian is happy to finally be able to hear it.

“A-Ling has been waiting for you, Jiang Cheng,” his wife says as greeting.

The happy mood quickly changes as Jiang Cheng enters the pagoda.

Jiang Cheng’s face is pale and his eyes are wide and he’s holding onto his sword so tightly that Jiang Fengmian can see the sword shake.

“What’s wrong?” Yanli asks quickly, her small hands touching Jiang Cheng’s cheek and forehead. “Are you unwell?”

Jiang Cheng stares at Jiang Fengmian for a silent moment, and his eyes are so terrified that Jiang Fengmian can feel his heart begin to beat faster as well.

“Speak!” his wife orders.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even look at her. He keeps his eyes on Jiang Fengmian.

Jiang Fengmian just waits.

Jiang Cheng swallows nervously.

“It’s Wei Wuxian, father,” he says finally.

No.

“Jin Zixun has accused him of cursing him.”

No. No. No.

“Jin Zixun has taken a hundred men to storm the Burial Mounds.”

---

A shocked, heavy silence falls over the hall.

Jiang Fengmian wishes time would stop in that moment. In that heavy silence he can still believe he made the right choice.

Cold fear and stinging regret pour themselves down his throat and into his stomach.

It’s such a shocking feeling that it’s a small miracle that he’s able to stay standing.

After a few silent moments, Yanli staggers suddenly into Jin Zixuan’s side. This seems to spur him into action somehow and he looks up to make eye contact with Jiang Fengmian.

“I’ll go to my father,” he says earnestly, “I’m sure this… This has to be a mistake.”

Jiang Cheng turns to Jiang Fengmian as well. “Father, let me take some disciples to the Burial Mounds. Jin Zixun reportedly left this morning – he’s probably already at the Burial Mounds. It’ll be too late if we go to Lanling first.”

Jiang Fengmian just stares back at them, something like fearing gripping at his throat. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do.

What to do.

His wife suddenly snarls impatiently beside him. “You old fool,” she spits contemptuously. She looks at Jin Zixuan, “You will stay here.” She looks at Jiang Cheng. “We all will stay here.”

“Mother!” both Yanli and Jiang Cheng cry.

“Hush!” she snarls.

“Yu-furen, please,” Jin Zixuan says gently, “I’m sure my father could not have approved this. He will be upset when he finds out – I’m sure of it.”

His wife snorts snidely, rolling her eyes as if Jin Zixuan said something particularly stupid.

“If you really think that, you don’t know your father at all,” she says., “he’s been looking for a reason to attack Wei Wuxian since he first laid his eyes on that talisman of his.”

Jiang Fengmian looks at his wife. “Perhaps Jin Zixuan is right,” he says weakly, “Jin Guangshan… he… he knows that Wei Wuxian is…”

“What?” his wife asks coldly, “that he is what?”

A boy Jiang Fengmian raised and cared for. A boy Jiang Fengmian wanted something more for.

His wife sneers at his silence. “He’s the orphan you brought into our sect on a whim and cast out just as easily,” she says plainly.

“Mother… please,” Yanli pleads desperately, “We must be able to do something for A-Xian… please.”

“Stop your tears,” his wife says, “What did you think would happen? From the day that he chose to protect those Wen’s he was destined for ruin.”

“Then let me go to the Burial Mounds,” Jin Zixuan says bravely, “I will talk to Jin Zixun. He’s proud but he’s not unreasonable. I’m sure if I –“

“—Do you think this is all a coincidence?” his wife asks, cutting him off. “Do you think that it’s a coincidence that JIn Zixun chose the day that you are away from Lanling to attack Wei Wuxian?”

Jin Zixuan just stares back at her, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“This was all planned,” she says slowly, a finality in her voice that leaves no room for argument. “Waiting for you to leave Lanling so no one would stop Jin Zixun from his stupid plan. Making it so that if the Jiang Yunmeng sect were to interfere in any way, it would be a declaration of war against the Lanling Jin sect.”

She begins walking around slowly, little A-Ling still in her arms.

“I know that Jin Zixun,” she says, “he’s a stupid boy. Undoubtedly he will do something in the Burial Mounds that gets him killed.”

“Wei Wuxian wouldn’t kill him!” Jiang Cheng defends hotly.

She turns sharply to him. “Do you think that he has a choice?” she asks coldly.

Jiang Cheng is quiet at her question, his brows furrowing in frustration.

After a beat, she begins to walk around the room again.

“Jin Zixun is too stupid to have planned this, and Jin Guangshan has about as much finesse as he has sense – which is to say none.” She walks over to Yanli and hands A-Ling to her. She looks at Jin Zixuan. “There is someone else in Lanling pulling the strings, and you must find out who, because they are pulling them well.”

Jin Zixuan furrows his brows at her. “No one… It can’t be, Yu-Furen. This must all be…”

Jiang Fengmian slowly sinks back down into his seat. His wife is…

His wife is making sense.

But her conclusion is too devastating to accept.

Jiang Cheng turns to him finally. “Father,” he pleads, “there must be something we can do. If only I go then no one could take it as our entire sect siding with Wei Wuxian.”

“I’ll go as well,” Jin Zixun says.

“Yes,” Jiang Fengmian nods blankly, feeling almost out of his body at the current situation. “I will go as well. A-Xian…”

The doors to the room slams suddenly.

They all look up to see his wife standing in front of it. Zidian is crackling on her fist.

Jiang Fengmian sighs tiredly. “My wife, you are my wife,” he says softly, “and in every possible way, I’ve chosen you over that boy. But please… I will go by myself. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixun can stay here. But please…”

“You are the one who sentenced him to this fate,” his wife replies – her voice strangely gentle for the cruel words she says – “You have seen his strange method of cultivation yourself. If you go up there, you will only either be a casualty or a hindrance.”

His eyes burn at her words. His throat aches. He wishes so badly that she wasn’t right.

“It’s because I sentenced him to this that I must go,” he says desperately, his voice coming out strained as he squeezes it through the tightness in his throat.

“His only chance is that Jin Zixun sees sense and leaves the mountain on his own,” his wife replies.

He rises to his feet and walks towards her.

She raises her chin as he comes closer. Watching him coldly.

“Will you raise your sword against me?” she asks.

She is his wife.

“Must you do this?” he asks her desperately, his hand resting uselessly on his sheathed sword.

She stares at him a long while and breathes deeply. “You are my husband,” she says slowly, “I’ve respected all of your decision – all of them. But I will not allow you to kill yourself over that boy.”

“He’s my responsibility,” Jiang Fengmian argues, “As you said, this is my fault.”

“So accept the consequence,” she snarls. “You’re always doing things by halves with that boy and it isn’t the kindness you believe it is.”

Her words are too true to be cruel but they hurt just the same.

“It’s too late to save him,” she continues, “You chose me. So keep choosing me. Stop trying to hang in this limbo and uselessly grasp at us both.”

This is his problem.

He’s always confident that he can have everything.

And by the time that he realizes someone has taken it away, it’s too late to fight for it.

Jiang Fengmian doesn’t know how to fight for it.

Jiang Fengmian folds his fingers tightly over the hilt of his sword.

Maybe it’s too late to learn how to fight for people, and this may just be Jiang Fengmian losing both, but…

Just as he’s about to unsheathe his sword, a desperate banging starts at the door.

“Young-master, young-master!” a voice calls out.

Jiang Cheng walks quickly to the door and opens it by almost shoving Yu-furen out of the way.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s Jin Zixun,” the messenger says hurriedly, his eyes wide, “the Yiling Patriarch has killed him.”

#the untamed #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #jiang yanli #mdzs #probably only like 4 or 5 parts left #sincerely: not enough

101 notes · View notes

ohnopoe · 4 years ago

Text

Alone, Together | Din Djarin

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Summary: Sometimes it’s the strongest people who just need someone to be strong for them. Word Count: 2.2k+ Warnings: Spoilers for the season 2 finale!! Angst. Author’s Note: This was meant to be hurt/comfort... I failed miserably... enjoy your angst and heartache! I also have not proof read this in the slightest... I am lazy and sorry

The silence echoed through the command centre, holding a weight upon your chest that felt akin to drowning. It seemed as though time itself was standing still as you stood there, engulfed in what had just happened, in the anguish that was threatening to creep in.

Of course, you had half expected something like this from the very beginning, it was the plan, after all. Grogu was with his kind now, with a jedi who could train and protect him so much better than you and Din ever could. You’d spent so long trying to convince yourself not to get attached, to enjoy the moments you shared with the curious child with a safe protective layer between you, but that was never really going to work, now, was it?

From the moment you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the duo had captured your heart, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to truly feel apart of the odd little crew. With such a stoic being as Din leading the charge, and a fifty year old child enamoured by his every shiny movement, you had thought it would simply be a job, just another in a long line of careers you had dabbled in throughout the galaxy. But it was so much more.

Looking after Grogu had been so much more than a job, it had been a delight, even in when he was determined to throw a tantrum when you all desperately needed sleep. It wasn’t long before the child became something akin to a friend, albeit a small, incoherent, gnawing on anything that shouldn’t go anywhere near a mouth, friend, but a friend nonetheless.

And somewhere along the line, the Mandalorian followed.

It was in the soft utterances that were barely heard, the gentle actions that weren’t necessary, but were always welcomed with a beaming smile. He wasn’t one for words, but he would show how he cared day by day.

A fruit you enjoyed on a random planet just so happened to be amongst the groceries after you exclaimed your joy upon tasting it. A new pillow was sitting on your bed a few days after he noticed you rubbing your stiff neck in the mornings. And when he found you nervous to be left alone on the Crest on a particularly dangerous planet? Well, suddenly there was time to take a day off to make sure you were comfortable with not only the weapons to defend yourself, but the controls of the Crest should you need to get yourself and the child out of there.

Yes, somewhere along the line, you had forged something of a friendship with the very same man who had unintentionally frightened you silent upon your first meeting. And if at some point your feelings for him had started to slip to something less platonic, well, that was neither here nor there.

Especially now, as you stood by his side in that same pained silence that still echoed through the Imperial ship.

Now, he needed a friend.

His helmet had been removed for the child, he had destroyed his creed, and, as tempting as it might have been, you had kept your gaze firmly on the ground the entire time, determined to respect his beliefs right down to the end.

The pain and anguish you felt at the sight of those gigantic sad eyes as Grogu had left was incomparable, but, even in your pain, you knew it was nothing compared to the hurt the Mandalorian at your side must be feeling.

There were too many in the room, battle hardened warriors each one of them, and you knew words of comfort or sympathy would do little at such a time, so you did the only thing you could think of.

With your gaze still firmly fixated on the floor, you pushed the pain aside, something to be addressed later, when you were alone, when you didn’t have to be the rock for the same man who had unknowingly been the same for you time after time in his own resilient manner.

Your hand barely moved, slow and subtle as you reached across the small distance to him. Unhurried, gentle, as if trying not to scare a wild animal, your fingers found his, curling into his hold in a silent show of camaraderie that had the heartbroken man turning his head towards you.

With your gaze still focused on the floor at your feet, you didn’t see the way those deep brown eyes took you in, savouring the sight, awed by the way you remained diligently refusing to glance his way. You didn’t see the years of pain and heartbreak that swam in that tear stung gaze, didn’t see the anguish that flittered there, fighting against an unwavering affection for you that seemed to have made its home there long ago.

But you did feel the way his hand clasped around yours, large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. It practically engulfed your own hand, and yet, the desperate hold almost made it seem small, uncertain, as if this one action, your hand in his, was the only thing keeping him together as his world fell apart once more.

Time that had moved so slowly seemed to suddenly fly into overdrive. Boba was back to pick up Fennec, Bo was, begrudgingly, focusing on what could be salvaged from the Imperial ship, Cara was setting off with Gideon, and, while you certainly seemed to be taking in whatever was thrown your way, it still felt a world away.

A decision had to be made, and before you knew it you were walking behind Cara and her new prisoner, still hand in hand with the Mandalorian who hadn’t dared let go of your hand since the moment you had offered it.

Somewhere along the way you had made it clear that you would remain with the Mandalorian, no matter what was to come, although you weren’t entirely certain the words had ever actually been spoken aloud. But any alternative was practically laughable. How could you possibly leave him now? How could you ever?

And then you were on the ship, when had that happened? And Gideon had been silenced once more with a hasty gag that was a desperate plea for what little sanity your little trio had left to not run astray (and possibly to keep Cara from killing him before she could make it to the New Republic). And then? Well, then was now wasn’t it? Alone in the cramped personal quarters of the shuttle, truly alone for the first time in weeks.

There was a time when being alone felt rejuvenating, refreshing even. The quiet solitude a haven from the chaos of so many busy planets, of so many people. When had that changed?

With a sad smile, you almost scoffed at the question the moment it flittered into your mind. You knew damn well when.

Silence had never lasted all that long on the Crest, no matter how tired you and Din might have been, the little green eared monster was determined to run amok, causing a clamouring of sounds in his wake. It was so easy to find it irritating when you were woken from only two hours of blissful sleep after days of being forced awake. It was easy to sigh and grapple with the playful child and remind him that this was sleep time, not play time, and if he wasn’t going to get some rest he had to at least let you get some.

But now, in the eerie silence of the Imperial shuttle you had commandeered in an effort to save the frog eating little bugger, you longed for those sounds. The chaos and cacophony of Grogu was a part of what had become your home, and now, yet another part of it was gone forever.

You couldn’t say when the tears had begun, or when they had slipped from silent streams to harsh sobs that wrecked their way through your body. But, curled up on the militantly neat bunk bed you had claimed as your own, you couldn’t have cared less.

Finally, you were alone, after hours of planning and debating, hours of being the solid rock for the man you had come to care so deeply for. Now was your chance to grieve everything you had lost, in the solitude of the clinically white cube someone had deigned appropriate to be a bedroom.

Visions of green ears and large eyes swam through your mind, memories entangled with daydreams as you thought about what had been, and what was to come for the small child you had grown to love.

But he was gone now, along with the Razor Crest that had become your home, although, thankfully, in a much less dramatic fashion.

Would that just be the way for all the things you loved? Would the same soon follow for Din?

A sound, far harsher than a sob, rattled its way from your chest at the thought. Surely he would be the next to leave, returning to his old life or helping rebuild Mandalore… either way, he no longer had a need for you now, did he? What use would he have for a glorified babysitter with no baby?

The sound of your tears would have been harrowing, were it not for the safety of those Imperial walls that surrounded you. Sobs and groans slipped from one to another as your tears soaked the stark white pillow beneath you. Curled up into the smallest ball you could manage, you let go.

That pain you’d pushed away earlier? Well, it was back, tenfold.

This was why you had never meant to get attached, this, right here, the aching hole that wanted to consume you, yet seemed to echo out from your very chest. It was a pain like no other, grief mixed with fear, sorrow mixed with a loneliness you could never put into words. A profound war of emotions that had your body shaken, and your mind so lost in its anguish, that you didn’t even hear the way the doors slid open, or the heartbroken sigh that followed.

Din was used to being alone. Even with you and Grogu aboard the Razor Crest with him, he would often find himself focused on a job while you distracted the little womp rat in the hull. It was just a part of life, until it wasn’t. Until he found himself working down there alongside you, until he found himself seeking out the joyful sounds of you playing with the child who was somehow older than either of you.

But even still, he was used to your absence, no matter how desperately he wished he weren’t.

So, as much as he desperately wanted to follow you when you claimed to need some rest, no matter how much he wanted to cling to your hand, to the intense amount of comfort such a small gesture had given him, he had let you go.

But that was nearly an hour ago now, and he couldn’t bare it any longer, and a small part of him hoped beyond all things that maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t either.

As the door slid open, and the broken sound of your tears perforated the air, a small sliver of what was left of his heart broke.

You had been so strong, had remained diligent and determined, had been the support he could never ask for, but desperately needed in his dark hour, and here you were, breaking apart alone.

It wasn’t until the harsh mattress beneath you shifted that you even realised you were no longer alone. Turning quickly, panicked and wide eyed, you gazed through blurry eyes at the foreign site before you.

Din still had all his armour in place, his helmet having returned to his head long ago, but his very being looked so different. It was in the way he stooped forwards, his elbows balanced on his knees as if the weight of the world was quite literally weighing him down. It was in the way his head hung low, but still faced you determinedly, as though he couldn’t decide what was worse, watching your broken wails, or turning away from them.

A harsh intake of breath. A desperate rub of your sleeve against your eyes in some plea that it might somehow make you look somewhat put together. You couldn’t meet his gaze, even behind the wall of his visor, but you would do what you had to in order to try and appear composed.

But he was shaking his head, slowly, reassuringly. You couldn’t be certain he was even aware of his actions as his hand found your leg, squeezing gently.

“Don’t,” his voice sounded harsher than usual, as if it had been filtered through sandpaper on its way through his helmet, and the rough sound had him pausing once more, as if startled to hear his own voice.

But he persisted nonetheless, pushing past the way his throat felt dry, past the ache each word brought forward.

“It’s ok to cry,” his voice was quieter now, an attempt at softness even through the pain he felt. “You don’t need to hold it in, not for me, not for anyone.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #my fic

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bloody-bee-tea · 5 years ago

Text

BeeTober 2020 Day 5

Forgotten - Lantern

Day 5 of BeeTober hit me with some Mo Xuanyu feels and I figure NMJ is everyone’s da-ge so let him be MXY’s as well and maybe also more

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision, but he doesn’t have a choice anymore. He came too far already to turn back around.

He passed the border of Qinghe a few hours ago, and he can already see the light of the Unclean Realm on the horizon.

And besides, there is nowhere else to go for Mo Xuanyu.

He didn’t chose Qinghe lightly; by now it’s his only option. There is no way Mo Xuanyu can ever return to Lanling, not with how Jin Guangyao made sure to ruin his reputation like this. Mo Xuanyu would have loved to change out of the golden colours by now, but he didn’t dare to return home, so he doesn’t exactly have a spare set of clothes laying around.

His first instinct after Jin Guangyao kicked him down the stairs was to go to Gusu; Lan Xichen is said to be a kind and just leader, but Mo Xuanyu all too well remembers how fond Lan Xichen seems of Jin Guangyao.

There is no way he will believe Mo Xuanyu’s words over Jin Guangyao.

Mo Xuanyu’s second instinct told him to turn to Yunmeng; Sect Leader Jiang might be a rough and firm Sect Leader, but he is famous for accepting strays and bringing them into his Sect. Mo Xuanyu thinks he might have liked life at Lotus Pier, but he has seen how—despite his more than apparent dislike—Jiang Cheng stays friendly and accommodating to Jin Guangyao.

Mo Xuanyu understands that Jiang Cheng fears Jin Guangyao will take Jin Ling away from him—Jin Guangyao makes it look like he’s granting Jiang Cheng a favour by allowing him to take Jin Ling to Lotus Pier often enough after all—and so Mo Xuanyu can’t count on the fact that Jiang Cheng will protect him.

If Jin Guangyao wants him back—or worse dead—badly enough, he definitely has the means to force Jiang Cheng’s hand.

No, Lotus Pier is not the place to go.

That only leaves Qinghe as his last option, and despite of that Mo Xuanyu still thinks it might be sensible.

Nie Mingjue has no qualms letting everyone know just how little he trusts Jin Guangyao, how he abhors his methods.

If Jin Guangyao comes demanding Mo Xuanyu be returned to him, Nie Mingjue might refuse simply out of spite.

At this point, it’s the best Mo Xuanyu can hope for, since he doesn’t dare to return home. He can only imagine how he would be welcomed after the shame he brought to the Mo family, how disappointed his mother must be.

So he keeps dragging his feet along, despite the bruises and aches all over his body, and the light of the Unclean Realm is getting closer and closer.

Mo Xuanyu counts himself lucky that Qinghe and Lanling share a border, because he’s not sure he would have made it much further than this.

By the time Mo Xuanyu can see the great gate, the sun is setting and he had time enough to regret his every action.

He has only met Nie Mingjue a handful of times, but he’s an imposing man, and if he’s displeased by Mo Xuanyu’s appearance, there is nothing Mo Xuanyu will have to hold against him. Mo Xuanyu can simply hope that Nie Mingjue will make it quick, instead of dragging it out and making Mo Xuanyu suffer.

When the guards of the Unclean Realm spot him and immediately leave—presumably to call for Nie Mingjue or another high-ranking officer—Mo Xuanyu desperately wishes that he was in different clothes.

Not that it would help hide who he is, but at least then Nie Mingjue would maybe not pay that much attention to him at first.

Mo Xuanyu has half a mind just turning back around, when Nie Mingjue suddenly marches up to him.

He seems even bigger than in Mo Xuanyu’s memory, and Mo Xuanyu tries to make himself as small as he can, and he falls in a deep bow.

“Rise,” Nie Mingjue orders him, and Mo Xuanyu doesn’t dare to disobey him.

Nie Mingjue musters him for long moments before he speaks again.

“Mo Xuanyu, right?” he then asks and Mo Xuanyu is honestly surprised that Nie Mingjue seems to remember him.

He didn’t think he left such a lingering impression, but maybe word of his disgraceful behaviour—however made up it is—has already reached this far.

“You have not been forgotten,” Nie Mingjue tells him, almost sounding affronted, and Mo Xuanyu wonders if he can read the thoughts right off his face.

“I didn’t dare hope,” Mo Xuanyu whispers and he fights the urge to fall into a bow again.

“You are hurt,” Nie Mingjue observes. “What happened?”

“Surely you must have heard of it,” Mo Xuanyu replies, and he wonders just how long it will take Nie Mingjue to send him away.

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know what he was thinking when he came here.

“I want to hear it from you,” Nie Mingjue says and Mo Xuanyu can see Baxia vibrate at Nie Mingjue’s back.

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes and then trains them on the ground.

“I made advances on my brother,” Mo Xuanyu says, because this is what Nie Mingjue will have heard no matter how outrageously a lie it is. “He kicked me out.”

“I told you to tell me what happened,” Nie Mingjue repeats and Mo Xuanyu can’t help but to look in surprise at Nie Mingjue.

“You don’t believe it?” Mo Xuanyu asks and when his eyes start to burn he tries to convince himself it’s simply because he’s tired.

“It’s a rumour spread by Jin Guangyao. I wouldn’t believe it if he swore on his mother’s grave that it’s the truth,” Nie Mingjue scoffs out, and now Mo Xuanyu can’t help it anymore.

He let’s out a sob—more from relief than anything else—and when his knees buckle, Nie Mingjue catches him.

“What happened?” he asks again, but much softer this time and Mo Xuanyu dares to lean into his large hands.

“He made it up. I stumbled upon things I shouldn’t have seen, and he made it up to get rid of me,” he admits, for the first time since he ran into Xue Yang by chance and Mo Xuanyu hadn’t known how much this weighed on him.

“And he kicked you out,” Nie Mingjue finishes for him and Mo Xuanyu lets out a hysterical laugh.

“Kicked me down the stairs, more like it,” he gives back and Nie Mingjue’s hands tighten on him before he relaxes them.

“You’re hurt.”

It’s not a question and Nie Mingjue doesn’t give Mo Xuanyu time to answer, either. He simply puts him back on his own feet, though he makes sure to keep a steadying hand on his elbow, before he leads him inside the Unclean Realm.

“Zonghui, inform the healer,” Nie Mingjue orders the man who has been standing behind him all along and he nods, before he hurries away.

The trip to the healer is quick, thankfully. Despite the long tumble down the stairs, Mo Xuanyu got away without any serious injuries. His whole body is tender, and he will most likely bruise all over, but the worst of it is a sprained wrist, which quickly gets bandaged.

Nie Mingjue left sometime during the examination and Mo Xuanyu tries his best not to read too much into that.

Nie Mingjue must be busy. He cannot possibly attend to someone like Mo Xuanyu personally. But Mo Xuanyu is acutely aware of the fact that he knows no one here, and the grain of worry sits deep.

Nie Zonghui leads him to a room, once the healer deems him ready to go, and he tells Mo Xuanyu to wait there.

There’s a fresh set of robes on the bed, but they are in Nie colours and Mo Xuanyu doesn’t dare to touch them.

Surely, they must have been left by the previous owner of the room. Or maybe they have been left on accident. They cannot be for him, that much Mo Xuanyu is sure of.

His body screams for some rest, and the bed looks more than inviting, but Nie Zonghui has told him to wait; Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know for what but he doesn’t want to be caught unaware.

So instead of laying down on the bed like his entire being demands, he kneels in front of the bed.

He tries to meditate, but his thoughts keep drifting away; he’s too uncertain of the future to allow himself to fall deeply into mediation.

The night is well advanced by the time Mo Xuanyu hears footsteps approach his room and he sits up straighter. There are enough flaws and faults to find in Mo Xuanyu and he doesn’t want to give his hosts any more reason to find additional ones.

Mo Xuanyu lowers his head when someone knocks at his door and he expects the person to simply barge in. He’s beyond confused when nothing happens.

“Mo Xuanyu?” Nie Mingjue’s voice carries through the door and Mo Xuanyu takes in a deep breath.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and it throws Mo Xuanyu for a loop if he’s being honest.

No one in Lanling respected his privacy.

“Of course,” Mo Xuanyu rushes to confirm and he shrinks in on himself when Nie Mingjue frowns as he sees him.

“Why didn’t you change yet?” he asks and it’s only then that he seems to notice the untouched bed. “Did you not rest?”

“I was told to wait,” Mo Xuanyu replies and he ducks his head when Nie Mingjue sighs. “And I figured the robes must have been a mistake,” Mo Xuanyu admits, hoping to not upset Nie Mingjue further, but his words seem to have the exact opposite effect.

“The robes are yours,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Mo Xuanyu’s stomach drops when he kneels in front of him. “This is your room, Xuanyu.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks at that, because he doesn’t understand.

“You came here for protection, didn’t you? For shelter? A new home?”

“I hoped to find those, yes,” Mo Xuanyu softly says, because he doesn’t dare hope that he might have found it already.

“And this is me offering it to you,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod at the bed and at the robes. “Will you accept it?”

Mo Xuanyu blinks against the tears that threaten to fall, but he can’t believe it, not yet. He allows his desperation to take the better of him, just for a moment, just for long enough to confirm that Nie Mingjue means it.

“You can’t hand me in to him,” he begs as he leans forward to fist his hands in Nie Mingjue’s robe. “You can’t let him claim me again, I will not survive if I have to go back there.”

“If you put on the robes, you’ll be one of my disciples,” Nie Mingjue says and puts one of his large hands on Mo Xuanyu’s neck. “I’d like to see him try to take you back.”

Mo Xuanyu slumps at those words and when Nie Mingjue squeezes his neck, he nods.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu softly agrees and gets up. He turns around, hands already loosening the belt around his middle and Nie Mingjue makes a strangled sound behind his back.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Nie Mingjue rushes out as he hurriedly leaves the room and Mo Xuanyu stares after him.

He got used to people always watching him in Lanling; some more obvious than others. Mo Xuanyu has forgotten what it feels like to change in privacy.

He quickly sheds his old robes, distantly wondering if Nie Mingjue will allow him to burn them, and when he shrugs on the new ones, Mo Xuanyu finds that they are almost a perfect fit.

“I’m done,” Mo Xuanyu calls out once the sash is fastened and Nie Mingjue steps back into the room, looking him over once.

“They fit, good. I had to guess your size. I’ll have more brought to you, but now, come with me,” Nie Mingjue orders and then simply leaves the room, clearly accustomed to being followed without question.

Mo Xuanyu finds himself thinking that it might be one of the easier things he has ever done in his life.

Nie Mingjue leads him into a courtyard, where Nie Zonghui is waiting for them, two lanterns at his side.

Mo Xuanyu is burning with questions, but he keeps silent, still too afraid to upset Nie Mingjue to the point of him sending Mo Xuanyu away again, and he startles slightly when Nie Mingjue turns around to him.

“You’re going to let them fly,” Nie Mingjue says, and despite phrasing it like that, Mo Xuanyu thinks he could refuse. “One, to let go of your past,” Nie Mingjue explains, “and one with your wishes for your stay here in my Sect. After this, you’re one of my disciples.”

It’s one of the stranger initiation rituals Mo Xuanyu has heard of, but he can probably count himself lucky that new disciples don’t have to fight for their place in the Sect. He would have been dead before he even lifted his sword.

“That is all?” Mo Xuanyu dares to ask and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“That is all. After that you’ll be a Nie, no matter if you decide to take the name or not.”

Mo Xuanyu eyes the lanterns, still waiting for a catch, but when Nie Zonghui simply offers the first one to him, he takes it.

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes and he tries to imagine everything that has defined his stay at Lanling; the humiliation, the constant fear, the threads, the abuse, his hate and resentment for everyone named Jin and he imagines how he pushes all of those feelings and memories into the lantern.

It should be heavy—too heavy to fly—but when Mo Xuanyu lets go of it, it rises into the sky almost instantly. Mo Xuanyu feels like he’s going to fly right after it, that’s how light he feels all of a sudden.

“And now the other,” Nie Mingjue commands and this time he hands him the lantern himself.

Mo Xuanyu takes that one as well and imagines his life in Qinghe. He never before dared to hope for a good life, but this time he decides to go all out. He imagines himself happy and carefree, his golden core growing beyond the point of being too weak to even be called a golden core, and when Mo Xuanyu remembers how Nie Mingjue has smiled at him, he also dares to hope for love in this Sect.

This lantern should be just as burdened at the other one with how many good things Mo Xuanyu wishes for himself, but it goes up in the air just as easily as the one before.

Mo Xuanyu keeps following it with his eyes, and Nie Mingjue stays silent until it’s too far gone to see it anymore.

“Welcome to Qinghe Nie,” Nie Mingjue says and the words settle like a cloak of protection around Mo Xuanyu.

It seems like coming here was the only sensible choice Mo Xuanyu has ever made in his life.

Next part

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #the untamed #mdzs #mo xuanyu #nie mingjue #hurt/comfort #nmj is everyone's da-ge #let him be mxy's as well #please

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swampofiniquity · 5 years ago

Text

Gasoline (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Part Three of Point / Counterpoint

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2829

Summary: It took several years and almost being killed on the job, but you and Leon finally reach the breaking point.

Warnings: Explicit sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, fighting

Part One / Part Two

You could feel the judgmental gazes of the rest of the team, could hear their frustrated muttering as they filed in behind you. Someone even dared to joke, quiet laughter breaking out until a sharp warning glare from Leon sent people scattering like cockroaches after the light switched on.

So much for all the hard work you had put in to earn their respect.

Your fists were clenched so tightly that your fingers ached and your palms stung from your nails digging into the tender flesh. Your tongue was bleeding from being held so tightly between your teeth for the hours it took for the mission party to return to HQ. It was all you could do to keep your frustration from exploding all over the place like a fifth grade science fair volcano.

You were beyond furious. Rage, white and hot coursed through your blood, searing your veins as Leon shoved you bodily into the elevator, his own anger rolling off him in sickening waves. Never before had either of you been so upset with one another.

The indignity of being thrown over his shoulder and removed from the mission like a petulant child. The utter disregard for your expertise or competency as an agent. The fucking audacity to stand between you and your target, to yell at you in front of the whole team. As the elevator climbed, you could concentrate on nothing else, not the vice-like grip he still had on your arm or the acrid, lingering scent of gunpowder on your clothes. Not even the nagging worry in the back of your head that this had done irreparable damage to your friendship.

After what seemed like forever, the elevator finally stopped at the top floor and Leon shoved you out, dragging you to his office and locking the door. He turned to you with a kindred fury burning in his blue eyes.

The room echoed with two warring shouts of “What the hell is wrong with you?” and “You nearly got yourself killed!”

“Goddamnit Leon, he was right there! Another second and I could have had him if you hadn’t -” you cut yourself off, fuming. Your hands shook as you slid off the ridiculous stiletto heels that were part of your disguise. It took every ounce of what little remained of your restraint to not hurl the uncomfortable shoes at his office window.

While you primarily served as medical support out in the field, being the youngest woman on the team you also did a fair amount of what was jokingly referred to as ‘honey pot’ missions, where your job was to dress a certain way, go in and extract information from or otherwise distract targets that had a known weakness for women. It was a bit demeaning having to show up to work in a thong and push-up bra, but you had been instrumental in putting some pretty big players in the B.O.W. market out of commission. You were damn good at your job, even in a dress and heels.

And you had never failed at it, until tonight.

“We had a plan!” he roared, stalking towards you until you were forced to take a step back. “You were not to engage until backup was ready. His security made you, you realize that right? Another second and you would have been dead!”

You shook your head, bristling under his glare, his anger feeding into your own. “You of all people should have trusted me!”

Leon growled, grabbing your shoulders and shoving you hard into the wall. A twisted, pained sort of scowl marred his face. Still furious, even beyond the shock of his actions, you bared your teeth at him in a cruel smile. You weren’t some spineless rookie agent he couldn't intimidate, and you were going to just let him manhandle you into submission.

After a tense moment, he finally took a step back and let you go. Leon rolled his neck and turned to walk to his desk, to put some distance between the two of you. But somehow, the sight of his back made you even more livid.

“Coward,” you hissed.

He was back in a second, pushing you roughly into the wall with his bulk and grabbing you by the throat. For a fleeting, terrifying second you thought he meant to squeeze, but then he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours so forcefully you were sure your lips would bruise.

It was less kissing than combat, the resulting embrace. It was remarkable how easy it was to go from hate to need. Or perhaps more aptly, for the two to blur together so seamlessly. As soon as you felt his hard body up against you and his lips pull viciously at your own, the boiling blood under your skin took on a different purpose.

It didn't matter that he was your friend or your superior or that he had just humiliated you on the job. Years of tension came to head spectacularly, leaving the two of you powerless to do anything but give in.

Your frantic hands clawed at his jacket as he gripped your waist and hauled you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. The ragged fabric of your once elegant gown, now torn and dirty from the harrowing failure of a mission, rucked up past your hips.

“Oh fuck,” you panted against his mouth, instinctively grinding into him. Leon groaned into the kiss and your head spun as you felt him harden through his pants.

"Jesus, gorgeous." Hit bit down on your lips as he pressed his growing erection further into you.

You were flushed. The room and your blood too hot. Your skin too sensitive. Your clothes felt like they were suffocating you. Desperately, you tried to reach the zipper of your dress with one shaking hand, the other anchoring tightly around his neck. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. A frustrated whine caught in your throat.

“Get me outta this,” you demanded, tearing your mouth from his. Leon nipped at your lips before reluctantly returning your bare feet to the floor.

Instead of bothering with the zipper, he used both hands to rip the satin fabric of your dress, the rasping sound of it tearing making you wince. What remained of the dress fell off you and pooled at your feet. His darkened eyes tracked its movement down your body and your feverish skin erupted in goosebumps under his gaze.

“Fuck,” he grunted and you weren’t sure what felt more intoxicating, finally being free of the restricting clothes or his reaction to your bared body.

You answered by throwing yourself back into his arms with enough force to make him stumble. He found his balance while you found the pulse point on the side of his neck and bit down. Leon gasped then sucked in air between his teeth as you used your tongue to soothe the mark.

“Desk,” you muttered against his skin, knowing that your legs were unlikely to hold you upright for much longer. It was the only word your brain could manage, most of its power now being focused on the feeling of his kiss, the strength of his arms, the musky spicy scent of his skin.

“No,” he bit out and his voice sounded ruined. “Here” With that he had you shoved up against the wall again, pinning you with his hips.

Your stomach swooped, like during a free-fall. He was impatient, near frantic, running his hands over every inch of you he could reach. The feeling of familiar hands in such unfamiliar territory, mixed with the adrenaline and anger from your fight left you shivering despite the fire you could feel building up to a steady roar beneath your skin.

You took a second to lament the fact that you couldn’t possibly undress him with even half as much flair or drama as he did you. Not needing to seduce anyone like you did, Leon had been running the mission from the shadows, and the usual jacket and jeans combo he was wearing was still pretty sturdy even after surviving the disastrous end of the job. You settled for slipping your hands under the jacket and sliding it down his broad shoulders. He grumbled, upset to have to take his hands off you to get the damn thing off, and flung it away carelessly. Any further attempt you made to divest him was foiled by Leon gripping both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them to the wall above your head.

“Later,” he breathed like a promise into your ear. He bent to suck and kiss down the taut muscles of your neck as his free hand grabbed one of your knees to drag up and hook around his waist. Unconsciously, you tilted your hips so your wet heat pressed firmly against the firm bulge at the front of his jeans. Your whole body shook as your clit caught and dragged deliciously on the rough denim.

All pretense, or what little was left of it, melted away at that point. Leon shuddered against you, then moved quickly to unfasten his fly and push his pants and shorts far enough down his hips to release his hard cock. You could feel the velvet heat of it brush against the inside of your thigh as it came free and a surge of liquid warmth swooshed past your belly and down to your cunt.

Without ceremony, he pulled your thong to the side and guided himself into you, bottoming out with a sharp snap of his hips. You cried out. It was almost too much, the sudden stretch and fullness. The intensity. Fuck, your best friend was inside you. You struggled, trying to pull your hands free, but his grip only tightened.

“Holy shit, Leon,” you moaned, his name leaving your lips in almost a wail as he started thrusting in earnest.

"God, you’re so fucking tight, so good,” he grit out through clenched teeth, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as he fucked you.

You tried to keep up and give as much as you took, but he set a rough, near punishing pace. And you were only human. It didn’t take long for the spreading warmth and tingles he elicited in you to expand, then violently contract.

Your climax hit you hard and fast, like a tidal wave. You thrashed, throwing your head back against the wall and crying out nonsense oaths, either uncaring or oblivious to the other offices on the floor that could surely hear you from behind the thin walls. Leon fucked you through it, not stopping or slowing, not even when the resulting contractions in your pussy made him shout out loud.

When the wave finally began to ebb and your energy started to bleed away, you sagged, boneless, in his grip. But Leon didn’t miss a beat, dropping your wrists in favor of seizing your hips with both hands. This forced you higher up on the wall, and change of angle made his thrusts hit home deeper, the blunt head of his cock hitting your cervix.

You gasped, fingers and nails clawing into his shoulders as you held on tight. It felt like he was trying to break you in two and the new, dull pain mixed exquisitely with the pleasure every movement still sent through you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, burying his face into the side of your neck.

His arms were shaking now and you could tell he was close. You brought your other leg up to wrap around his waist and used what little strength you had left to match his pace with your hips.

That seemed to send him over the edge. A jagged moan ripped from his throat and his fingers tightened painfully into your flesh. With a few more deep thrusts and a gush of wet warmth, he came inside you, your name leaving his lips like some kind of sinful prayer.

“Fuck.”

You ran your hands through his mussed, sweaty hair as he came down and finally pulled out. Leon slumped forward, nuzzling the flushed skin of your chest. His five o’clock shadow tickled and you squirmed, clearly overstimulated. It was enough to take you out of the post-climax haze.

“Leon,” you whispered, fear and uncertainty starting to fill in the space in your chest that your previous rage and indignation had left behind. With some space and time to cool off, you had been reasonably sure your friendship could have bounced back from the earlier clusterfuck. But this… You knew a line had been crossed here that the pair of you had religiously toed for a reason .

You were now scared you had just ruined everything.

“I came so close to having to watch you die today.” It was so quiet that you wouldn’t have caught it if his face wasn’t still so close to yours. Leon took a shaky breath before finally meeting your eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”

The honesty hit you like a sock to the gut. “ Leon -”

“No, just let me say something first.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I know that you’re a good agent, but damn it Y/N, you can be so fucking stubborn sometimes. I don’t know where you got it stuck in your head that you have to do everything yourself, but you don’t. You said I should have trusted you, but you gotta trust me too, sweetheart. Or else none of this shit works.”

Your heart sank, knotting with your stomach in guilt, as you finally realized what all the anger and yelling and fighting had been hiding. He wasn’t just upset that you had gone against his plan. He had been scared.

“I don’t - I didn’t,” you tried, but the words wouldn’t come.

Leon shook his head. “ I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I don’t care what I have to do, what we have to do, but I… I can’t lose you, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, your heart clenching in affection for the man in front of you.

“Okay.” Leon pressed a kiss to your temple and sighed heavily, the tension finally starting to bleed from his body. Suddenly, he straightened, wrapped his arms snugly around your back, and started to carry you away from the wall.

You flailed for a moment as your center of gravity shifted, but Leon never dropped you. Even though your behavior from earlier would have warranted it. You felt awful about the whole shit show of a day. With some hindsight, you could admit that maybe you had been a little too hotheaded, a little too eager to prove your worth.

Though whether or not you were ready to admit that to Leon was another story.

“Where are we going?” you asked, stifling a laugh as his open pants slid down to his ankles, forcing him to waddle like an overgrown penguin.

“Couch. I’m exhausted and you’re getting heavy.”

You scoffed in fake indignation as he finally reached his goal and deposited you on the plush cushion of his office’s modest couch. Before he could pull away, you leaned in and caught his lips in a soft, tender kiss. His hands went to the back of your head, blunt nails massaging your scalp in a way that made you melt. When you pulled away, you didn’t bother to hide your smile.

Leon frowned down at you, forehead wrinkled in suspicion. “What was that for?”

You shrugged and pecked his lips again. “Just felt right, I guess. Hey - “ he started to straighten again, but you pulled him back down until he was practically straddling you on the couch. “You know I couldn’t bear losing you either, right? I - you’re important to me.”

The L-word had been on the tip of your tongue, but you forced it back down. You had said it to each other before, but only under strictly platonic circumstances and usually with the help of more than a few drinks. Not naked and vulnerable and thoroughly fucked. After the emotional whirlwind you had just been through, you weren’t sure you could survive opening that can of worms.

“Yeah, you’re important to me too, gorgeous.”

There were sure to be consequences, both numerous and harsh, from everything that occurred. The failed mission. Going against orders. Yelling at a senior agent in front of the entire team. And it would be nothing short of a miracle if no one found out about what had just happened between you and that same agent. You’d be lucky to walk away with a suspension.

But as Leon settled down next to you and tucked you gently into his side, you found it hard to focus on anything other than how good it felt to be in his arms.

#leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy smut

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago

Text

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 17: The Resolution

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,424

Chapter Summary: Now that the truth is out, Teki and Loki navigate their way through the aftermath.

A/N: I can’t believe we’re on the second to last chapter! It blows my mind that this has gone by so quickly-- I feel like I just started posting a few weeks ago. Also, sorry this is going up about an hour later than usual-- my classes got cancelled today, so I decided to sleep in XD

Thanks for reading!

TW: Violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass @sophlubbwriting

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Teki stood in the center of the Throne Room, struggling not to wilt under the scrutiny of over a dozen pairs of eyes. She had always known that someday in the future she’d have to attend the King’s council meetings, but never had she thought that she would ever be the focus. The old men of Odin’s courtroom seemed to glower down at her like she was an insect they had accidentally stepped on as they bickered over what was to be done with her. Luckily, the friendly faces in the crowd were almost enough to drown out the tension.

Loki smiled encouragingly from his place at the base of Odin’s throne, rolling his eyes whenever someone said something particularly hurtful. Frigga too supported her with a warm grin. Even Thor seemed to shoot her a sympathetic glance every now and then.

Still, the council continued arguing.

“The marriage engagement is in writing. We cannot change it—”

“That writing is in blood. Would we have the daughter of a murderer as Queen?”

“We should not hold the girl accountable for the sins of her mother—”

“But what of Asgard’s reputation? What will other realms think when they learn how easy it is to cheat their way into royalty—”

“The circumstances are irrelevant. The agreement was made. To go back on it now would be to sully the word of the king—”

The last few days had been a whirlwind. Teki felt as if she had repeated the same story over and over again at least a thousand times, to a thousand different people. At first, there had been the scramble for evidence, gathering anything and everything that might be used to prove her word—the vials from her mother’s liquor cabinet, the document of dissolution that her father had been forced to write moments before his death, written statements from Völundr and Asta (the real one this time). They had even taken her father’s journal, although that had been returned to her after they decided that the unfinished letter he had written to her mother was all they needed.

But once Áslaug signed a full confession, the focus shifted. Now that she was good and caught, everyone could concentrate on capturing Osvald. He had been gone when Frigga’s guards arrived at their apartment to arrest him and hadn’t been seen since. It seemed he had caught wind that the game was up and made a run for it, a thought which terrified Teki to no end.

“Don’t worry,” Loki assured her one night, in the new rooms in the royal wing that she and Brant now occupied. “They’ll catch him before long.”

Teki only nodded as she stared out into the inky blackness beyond her window, praying to the Norns he was right.

There were also the questions popping up now, everywhere she turned. Was she still engaged to Thor? Did the marriage agreement stand if it was made under false pretenses? No one seemed to know.

Some felt that since Steinn had opposed it, and since Áslaug very clearly did not have Teki’s best interests in mind when she agreed to it, that it should not be allowed to stand. Others were quite adamant that the agreement had been signed and that it must be followed through, for better or for worse.

Of course, nobody had asked Teki what she thought should happen.

Well... that wasn't entirely true. Queen Frigga had approached her the day after her mother was arrested to talk about the whole situation, and while she didn't ask for her opinion either, the topic of her engagement had come up.

"The AllFather is not one to go back on his word," she told her. "I doubt the betrothal will be drastically changed."

Her tone was encouraging, but Teki couldn't bring herself to mirror her optimistic smile. Of course she'd still have to marry Thor. The actions of her mother would have no bearing on something that had been set in stone for nearly her entire life. She knew this. Still, a part of her, the small, hopeful part that had dared to dream of someone else in place of Thor's hand, withered at the return to reality.

The ache in her chest must have been reflected on her face because Frigga frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Teki shook her head, forcing her features back to familiar neutrality. "Of course not, Your Majesty," she said with the same artificial cheeriness. "As always, I will be honored to wed your son."

For a moment, the Queen only studied her, as if searching for something hidden behind her eyes. "Yes," she finally said, voice distant. "My son."

It didn’t even matter anymore. They’d all been going round and round in circles for what seemed like an eternity, and Teki was tired of standing there bearing the brunt of their speculation. She wished they would just sentence her to life with Thor and just end it already. It took everything in her to keep from picking at the sash of her dress in front of everyone.

But then Frigga stood, and the voices fell silent. “If I may, my King?”

Odin nodded at his wife, and Teki couldn’t help but think that he looked as exhausted with this as she was. “Please.”

She stepped forward, addressing the council directly. “If I am correct in understanding, the conflict here surrounds the question of whether Lady Tekla is suited to be Queen in light of what we now know of her mother and stepfather, yes?” A chorus of affirmative hums answered her.

The Queen smiled broadly. “Well, I believe there is a way to honor the agreement without jeopardizing the queenship.” She turned back to Odin with a respectful bow of her head. “My King, you have two sons. If Lady Tekla were to marry Prince Loki instead of Prince Thor, she’d still gain royalty, but not the throne.”

A flurry of whispers broke out across the Throne Room. For a moment, Teki thought she had misheard her. Wait, did she mean…

She whipped to Loki, who was staring at his mother with eyes were so wide they were almost bugging out of his head. When his gaze returned to Teki’s, there was a stunned sort of hope in his smile.

The King cocked his head to the side, seemingly lost in thought. He turned to his son. “Would you be willing to pursue such a course of action, Loki?” he asked.

The prince sprang up. “Yes, I would, my King. That is —” he looked back at Teki nervously. “If Lady Tekla was willing.”

The collective stare of the council flipped back once more to her.

Teki inhaled. “I—I’m willing, sire.”

“Very well.” The King motioned towards Loki, who stepped purposefully off the platform and down to her side. “Prince Loki, you will take the hand of Lady Tekla in marriage. Prince Thor, you are released from your betrothal.” He sighed. “Perhaps now we can finally lay this matter to rest.”

Teki didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Loki lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“My lady,” he whispered with a breathless smile. She beamed, heart soaring higher than any wings could ever carry her.

…

Going back to their apartment was strange.

It had been decided that Teki and Brant would permanently move into the royal wing of the palace, sharing a suite until Teki married and moved into Loki’s rooms (although Frigga assured her that wouldn’t be for quite some time). Their old apartment was gutted of all items of importance to be transferred to their new rooms, leaving only its skeletal remains when Teki and Loki returned for one last look through.

There were several things Teki wanted to be sure to get. Brant’s reading notes, for one, and his unfinished map of the tunnels of the Nine Realms. She wouldn’t be giving him reading lessons anymore—he had already begun to attend proper class and was doing quite well—but he had confided in her that he still preferred her lessons. The music books gifted to her by the Queen—she was particularly excited about those, because Frigga had ordered a piano constructed just for Teki’s new sitting room.

��I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t ask you first,” she had said, almost apologetically. “I just you’d enjoy being able to play at your own discretion, without having to rely on me.”

Teki could’ve cried.

And then there was a dagger. Teki nearly had a heart attack when she checked under her mattress and found it wasn’t there, only to remember that she had shoved it in her nightstand that time her mother walked into the room.

Loki grinned when she slid it out of its sheath.

“I had wondered what you did with that,” he said. “I never saw it when I would come over.”

She laughed. “Well, I couldn’t exactly hang it from the wall.” Now that she thought of it though, it was probably a blessing that she had been forced to move the dagger to her drawer. As furious as her stepfather had been upon discovering she had taken her father’s journal, it would’ve been infinitely worse if he had realized she was also keeping a weapon under her mattress. The image of Osvald advancing towards her flashed before her eyes, this time waving a blade instead of a leather book. Teki shivered. She sheathed the dagger, placing it in the box with her other items.

They combed the apartment one last time, a cursory look-through to make sure that Teki had gotten everything she wanted to save. There really wasn’t much. It was a bit startling—this place had been her home her entire life, and yet she felt practically nothing upon saying goodbye to it forever. If anything, it was relieving, like coming to the surface to breathe after being underwater for far too long. She was ready to leave this bad dream behind.

Teki only hesitated at the downstairs table, staring at the same chair in which her father died. Loki came besides her, squeezing her hand in comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She struggled to find the right words. “I ate here every single day,” she said finally. “My whole life. And I never knew what happened right next to me.” Had her father been watching in frustration from the realm beyond? Had he been begging her to ask questions, to look for him, to discover the truth as she munched on her morning toast?

Tears were pooling in her eyes once more. Teki swallowed shakily. “I should’ve done something sooner,” she whispered. “I never did anything. I just let it all happen.”

“You were a child,” Loki said softly. “What could you have done? You’ve brought justice for your father, and for you. That’s all that matters now.”

She sighed. Maybe he was right. What she did or didn’t do in the past wasn’t important. Now, her father could rest easy knowing his killer would rot in prison, her plans in tatters.

Teki hoisted her box up with one last glance about the room. “I think I’ve got everything,” she said as she headed towards the door. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled, rushing to hold the door for her. “It seems that—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

Osvald barged his way through the doorway like a living battering ram, smacking the prince into the wooden door. Her stepfather didn’t even spare a second glance as Loki crashed to the floor. Teki barely had the chance to scream before his fist caught her in her sternum. The box flew from her hands, contents clattering across the floorboards as she fell backwards.

No sooner had her head hit the ground than Osvald was on top of her, eyes as frenzied as wildfire.

“You thought I’d let it go?” he snarled, holding her down by her shoulders with his forearm as she struggled. “You thought I’d let you fuck everything up?”

She almost didn’t see the glint of the blade in his free hand.

Norns!

Teki jerked just as the knife came down, cold metal grazing her cheek as he buried it into the floor beside her head. She grabbed for the hilt as her stepfather spat curses in her face.

Get it away from him!

He smacked her away, ripping the knife from the floorboards and stabbing towards her again. Teki braced her arms against his wrist, pushing against him with all her might, her eyes tearing up. Come on, please! Still, the tip of the blade inched forward, closer and closer and closer…

Something crashed into the two of them. One moment, her stepfather was on top of her, pinning her to the ground, the next he was on the floor next to her, thrashing wildly as Loki fought to rip the blade from his grasp. Teki rolled to her stomach, trembling as she gasped for air.

“Get help!” Loki yelled at her as the two wrestled on the ground. Osvald landed a kick to his stomach, and he hissed in pain.

Teki struggled to her feet and tried to make a run for the door. Her foot slipped on one of the papers strewn about from the box and she tripped, slamming against the floor.

Behind her, Osvald’s knife clattered to the ground. Still, they struggled.

Her legs were shaking too badly to stand. Teki crawled towards the door across the mess, unable to hear anything else over the pounding of her heart.

Without meaning to, her hand closed around the hilt of her own dagger.

Loki cried out, a short, quick gasp of pain. Her stepfather’s footsteps vibrated deep in her stomach as he approached.

He yanked her to her feet by her collar and whipped her around, his fingers at her throat, grin wide and demented.

“Now—”

Teki buried the blade in his chest.

For a moment they just stared at it, gasping, the golden hilt crowning the fast-growing stain of crimson across his chest. He glanced up at her, icy eyes having lost their chill. Teki gaped back at him, frozen.

On the other side of the room, Loki pulled himself to his feet, eyes wide.

Her stepfather collapsed, a marionette with its strings cut, his blood splattering across the same floor he had so often beaten her against.

#dances and daggers #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki marvel #dances and daggers chapter 17 #the resolution #cozy writes

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evilzoldyck · 5 years ago

Text

High School Sweethearts

It was hard to speak when you’re bent over the desk while your boyfriend forcefully held your head down, flipped your skirt over and tugged your underwear to the side to bring his hard dick right into your raw cunt. Nevertheless, he seemed unbothered by the lack of preparation as he started to thrust vehemently with a bitter passion, inattentive to your feelings and inconsiderate to your needs.

The sensation of Phinks’ vigorous intrusion left a burning and stinging ache on your end, this was by far the most painful sex you’ve had with him, if you even can call it that. The dim classroom you were in too offered no comfort whatsoever, the hard wooden desk beneath you and the pressure of him from above was beginning to give your chest an uncomfortable squeeze.

You think of shoving him off and escaping, but you knew that you were no match for his almost monstrous strength, had it not been for his appearance you would mistake him for another being for possessing such Herculean-like power. You also knew that he locked the door, and further beyond that stood his friends keeping a steady watch for his buddy that just wanted to have a little talk with his girl.

All because he heard rumours spreading around school that you were going to breakup with him.

“So fucking stupid,” Phinks venomously spat out. His brows furrowed furiously with his eyes pierced to your helpless form, his violent thrusts never faltered even through your stammering pleas. The sheer unbridled fury he exuded left you crippling in fear on whether you’re going to come out of this classroom in one piece. You’ve seen what he was like around others, you just didn’t anticipate that you’d be receiving the infamous temper from him so soon.

His rage that was once rigorously contained around you were now left unchained, you just pray that somebody would come through the door and rescue you before he does anything worse.

Coarse hands slid through your strands and bunched your hair together near the roots to sharply pull them. You were honestly glad you didn’t have to face him through this ordeal, you couldn’t stand seeing his face shooting acrimonious glares into your own, but mostly it’s because you didn’t want him to see you crying. You couldn’t let him see how much he hurt you, how much power he had over you for he might take pleasure in your humiliated, broken state.

Letting the tears run down your face silently, you gripped onto the edge of the desk so tightly that your knuckles turned white from the grip, biting down on your lip to prevent any sobs from slipping out. You felt Phinks’ gruff pants from behind you, his hands never relenting from squeezing down on your hips and pulling on your hair harshly. It was clear he was far from forgiving you or even listening to what you had to say; all he could focus on was exerting his emotions physically onto you.

You should’ve seen this coming. The school’s infamous social pariah showing up randomly into your class and threatening others to leave just so he could ask you out in private. Of course you questioned it, just exactly what had you done to garner his attention? It wasn’t as if you were in or even knew his tight knit circle personally. You knew that he was a bad influence, the kind of company he keeps and the reputation he carries would just be detrimental to your respectable social image.

But at that time, you couldn’t care less. His awkward and brusque confession was so endearing that it was enough to convince yourself to give him a chance. Who knew underneath that coarse exterior was something that was sweet and almost kind albeit a little unsure, however you figured he was trying. Wondering why it took him to come forward and reveal himself for you to see through his facade after all this time before.

However you knew that at this age you were not going to come close to actually know what real love is or even begin to understand it. Also, you weren’t expecting that Phinks would be the one you’d see at the end of the aisle waiting for you, but you at least wanted the high school romance experience. To have your very first boyfriend during the height of your exuberant and capricious youthful days. Something to look back at history and reminisce to.

The first week with him was great, the unwavering stares and the nebulous whispers were just what you were expecting when you accepted his confessions, though you weren’t quite used to the blinding spotlight as you stood at the centre topic of high school gossip. If Phinks ever felt the same way, he didn’t mention anything to address it. Rather he would see you after class and take you onto the rooftop where he effectively broke the lock on the door with an effortless tug just to have some time with alone with you.

To be within a close proximity with someone like Phinks emotionally and physically was a bit daunting. In the first few days you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him straight in the eyes or ask the questions you’ve been dying to know like: since when? How? Why? Nevertheless you knew it was best not to ask since you figured Phinks himself wasn’t very good at articulating his emotions anyway. You figured the small pauses of comfortable silence and shy touches would be enough for now.

You still remember that day where he stole you from gym class to bring you to a secluded corner in the back of the building. Your very first kiss was shared there and you couldn’t deny that the heart at least flickered. It was like a scene from an oversaturated romance clip ever, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours with his rough hands gently cupping your cheeks was something directors couldn’t sincerely translate to the audience.

When he pressured you to skip class one morning, you thought it would just be a one time thing. But the next thing you knew, you’d find yourself in aimlessly wondering the streets with Phinks by your side every day. Of course, the grades that you worked so hard to keep up before suffered because of your arbitrary absence, leading you to stay up late each night to catch up because you find it so hard to say no to him.

The more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice that you hardly had the chance to see your friends. They also noticed it too and though they were mildly concerned as to why you would say yes to a guy you barely knew or talked to, they were happy for your new profound relationship.

You couldn’t help but feel awkward every time you pass your small circle of friends by the hallway with Phinks close by your side. Your heart tightened as you all shoot a polite smile at each other, the familiarity that you all shared once before was diminishing slowly.

Phinks was always invasive of your personal life, the moments of time you didn’t share with him, he’d intrude and let himself in anyway. You recounted at how he would scroll through your phone with a pensive glare, looking as if he’s expecting to catch something. You didn’t like it, but you also didn’t know that this wasn’t supposed to be a normal high school relationship.

You stared anxiously as Phinks’ eyes scrutinised your phone screen, scrolling through your apps, photos, messages and contacts. While there was nothing for you to hide, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable letting him go through your phone. Sitting patiently across him, you fidgeted with your nails hoping that he wouldn’t find something to get angry at.

“Who’s this?” He glared at you, showing you a name on your contacts that you had forgotten. It was your science project partner from last year, you forgot you still had his number in your contacts. When you replied just as what you had thought, he returned his eyes back to the phone and pressed delete. Even though you didn’t need it, you wanted to refute, tell him he couldn’t just erase someone’s number from you like that.

And it was as if he read your mind, you suddenly perked up when he bluntly said, “the project’s over right?” While continuing his peruse on your social connections.

“Yeah,” you dryly replied, looking down at your shoes as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. You hated it when he got just a little bit mad, you’ve seen the extent of his anger and even if you were his, there was no telling what he’d do if you push him far enough off the edge. So you often found yourself doing mental gymnastics to justify his actions.

“Then you don’t need it anymore,” he stated, almost coming off as condescending. You weakly agreed with him.

The time he suggested the both of you study at your house that day you told him how you were falling behind on maths, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you were excited. Throughout the relationship he’d always set the schedule for the both of you and when he finally considered to set up a time that you needed, you were touched. Though that feeling quickly fleeted when he suddenly pinned you down on your bed.

“P-Phinks,” you breathed out in between his kisses. Your body was superimposed by his while his hands that held your sides desperately roamed freely. The books that you brought were uselessly thrown to the carpeted floor and it was clear to you now that studying wasn’t his intention from the start.

You held on to his shoulder and pushed him so that there was some distance between you two. “I thought we were just going to study,” you asked earnestly, looking for some sympathy in his eyes.

He smirked smugly and leaned in to kiss you once again, “yeah?” He chuckled in amusement. “That’s cute.” You should’ve known he couldn’t give what he didn’t have. He practically ripped your uniform blouse to get to your skin, not minding the buttons that scattered everywhere. His mind was set in stone for pleasure while yours was a conundrum.

Do you want to give it to him right now? Are you ready to lose your virginity? Does this mean he was The One? Do you want to save it for someone else? Who? Is high school the time to explore these things? Were you moving too fast?

You couldn’t remember what happened during the intercourse, but you remembered him finally leaving when your parents came home.

The next day your friends lead you to a quiet corner of the school to finally talk, they strategically caught you on a rare time where Phinks was preoccupied with reigning chaos over some unfortunate student with his friends. Knowing that you preferred to stay out of it, Phinks reluctantly left you alone for the day.

They confronted you about him, how he’s got you on such a tight leash and how they missed you, wondering when you’ll be back with them just like the old times. When it was time for you to answer, you couldn’t properly structure a sentence. Instead, the next thing you knew there was tears in your eyes. You murmured out that he took advantage of you, you couldn’t help but sob out uncontrollably and fell down to the abrasive gravel.

Hearing yourself admit it out loud helped you processed the thoughts and feelings of the altercation of what happened yesterday. Your friends were immediately by your side, holding you tightly as you cried out in distress. They shot each other a bewildered look at the implication of your statement. You held on to the supportive grip of their hands, letting yourself sob into their shoulders as they hugged you tightly and soothed your back while occasionally brushing your hair back from your wet face, not telling you to stop or say anything else.

The familiar warmth you’ve been craving for all this time, they gave it to you without question. You poured out your heart that period, wept until your tears went dry and sobbed until your lungs gave out. They never left your side. You figured once you told them you’d feel humiliated and embarrassed but they never even made an accusation of the sort, in fact they prevented you from thinking such things about yourself.

When they suggested the police get involved, you quickly opposed, you didn’t want to make such a noise about it. Perhaps you still regarded some feelings for him, even though you shouldn’t and he could never deserve it, but regardless you didn’t want anyone else to know. Though it was clear that they weren’t satisfied, they settled on you breaking up with him for now.

You didn’t know who stumbled and saw you that day with your friends, but someone did. News travelled around the campus like a grapevine and soon everyone is whispering of you breaking up with the infamous Phinks Magcub soon.

When the gossip finally reached him, he threw the maths report that he waited on for some kid to finally finish it in anger, leaving the papers to fall onto the muddy ground behind him as he marched straight to the building. He was going to surprise you with the report you’ve been so worried about and to hear of your betrayal enraged him to the point that he couldn’t hear or see anyone but you.

Meanwhile you stood in an empty classroom, worried when your friends didn’t come to your class on the last bell of the day in which they promised to meet, the whispers were getting louder and you weren’t sure how you could face him alone. You looked out the window and sighed, it was going to rain again. If that wasn’t an a bad omen the moment you turned to the door where Phinks suddenly emerged from was.

You were so naive to think you can escape him without a scratch.

Phinks could hear the sobs you tried to stifle as you pleaded out when you finally couldn’t handle it anymore. “S-Stop- Phinks please...” you whispered out, squeezing out the tears stinging your eyes. Your throat felt like it was coiled with wires of barbs tightening every time you held yourself back from emitting a sound.

He let out a series of violent thrusts before he finally came, pulling your hair down harshly as you cried in pain. Once he let go of your hair and tucked himself back in, he turned you around to look at your grief stricken face. “Are you sorry?” He asked, completely apathetic to your side. You weakly nodded, casting your eyes from his.

“Good girl,” he brusquely wiped your cheek with his thumb before pulling you close to him, forcing you to lay your head in his shoulder. You feel his lips tickle your ear when he muttered softly, “let’s not fight anymore.”

It wasn’t like you had a say in it anyway.

#tw: noncon #toxic relationship #tw: yandere #extreme noncon #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere phinks x reader #yandere x reader #phinks x reader #phinks magcub #Hunter x Hunter 2011 #Hunter X Hunter #yandere phantom troupe #smut #non-con #high school au

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i-did-not-mean-to · 4 years ago

Text

Black - Chapter 9

This chapter was super hard on me and I'm not confident in it...

But here it is anyway...

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters : Thorin X OC

Rating : Mature

Warnings: Smut, struggle and a lot of changes of heart

Bringing his hand up, he slowly brushed his fingers through her hair a few times before slinging them gently around the nape of her neck and holding her there.

Whispering her true name, the one she had divulged that first night in her hut, he tilted his face slightly, brushing his lips across her brow. “Oh, sweetling.” He sighed.

“Yes?” Her breath was dancing on his skin, calling to him incessantly and he felt like he was suffocating. He needed the sweetness of the air that escaped her soft lips in quiet pants, and yet, he knew he was not entitled to this.

“It is something you can give away but once, Faith.” He warned, not sure if he was still only referencing a chaste kiss.

“There is nothing I hold that I would not give to you, my king.” She said, bringing up her empty palms alongside his body.

“Don’t tempt me, woman.” He muttered, scraping his fingertips along her hairline, and hearing her utter low mewling sounds.

“Am I? Tempting? At least a little bit?” A new note crept into her voice, a hint of power tinging her breathless, joyous surprise.

“If you only knew. Always bewitching me with your sweet words, traipsing around half-naked and fragile as an autumn leaf, singing to the earth and the sky.” He mumbled, almost angry at her for having that effect on him.

Part of him wanted to take what she offered greedily, push her down and ravage more than her mouth, but her eyes were full of trust; he could not take advantage of her ignorance.

“I am young in the eyes of your people, I know it well, but for my own people, I am a woman grown, a woman past her prime already. I am not afraid.” She said in a hushed voice, pressing in closer. It had been too long since last she had found any release; it would have been unseemly to do so with him only a stone’s throw away, but her body yearned for it.

“You’ve talked about a kiss.” He sounded confused and slightly alarmed.

“Yes.” She smiled, tilting up her own face in invitation, holding his burning gaze that swirled with silver stars dancing on a night sky. “I am feeling very brazen tonight.” She admitted. “But…” Her voice faltered when he didn’t move.

“Maybe you’ll have to touch my hair after all so at least one of us doesn’t lose their courage.” He smirked and sighed when her hand slid into his hair, her long, narrow fingers carding through it tenderly.

“Courage restored. Now, how do you rule, Thorin-king?”

She gave one of his braids a playful tug when his eyes drifted off into the distance, his brows furrowing with thoughts she couldn’t fathom. “You’re the one who offered me something…” She reminded him in an inviting whisper.

“I did not expect you to ask for something that would be so…risky.” He murmured. “Are you afraid of a maiden, warrior-king?”

“No.” He sounded half-offended, and the other half was most probably a lie. “My neck starts to hurt…” She complained lightly, sighing when his broad hand cupped her head tighter again to support it while she stared up at him.

His face drifted in and out of focus, unbearably beautiful and marked by the deep contemplative mood he seemed to be in.

“You asked for it, woman.” He grumbled warningly as if he feared that she’d change her mind after all and run into the solid door like a trapped bird as soon as he came any closer. She hummed her agreement, letting her head rest against his palm trustingly.

It was the lightest of brushes; her king, her master, her friend let his lips glide over hers for a second, with so little pressure that it felt like warm velvet being pulled along her aching skin, and before she could even reciprocate, he was gone.

Her eyebrows shot up in silent indignation. Was that all she was worth? “Was this kiss a gauge of your fondness?” She asked.

“It was a translation of my respect for you.” His teeth clacked shut with an audible sound of frustration. “What would you have me do, woman? Crush you like a sparrow?” He sounded definitely exasperated now. Faith knew that men could be fools and, in this moment, she realised that even mythical dwarven kings were no exception to that rule, so, plunging her hand back into his hair and clenching it into a fist, she pulled his head – that she would have believed was made of wood if she had not known that it was carved of stone – back into her reach and pressed her lips on his.

He could keep his gifts of gold and his respectful distance, she thought while her body roared like a fire under her writhing skin. A smell of tobacco and leather, interlaced with fresh air and warm stone, pervaded the space and, in an almost dream-like trance, she picked up on hints of pine and sandal wood. Pushing in even further, Faith traced the stubborn line of his lips with her tongue and breathed in the tortured sigh escaping them.

Her whole body was arched against his as she tried yet again to fling her whole weight, and every ounce of strength she had, into her physical dealings with a dwarrow, only to have him stand firm and unmoving as if rooted to the ground.

Within the blink of an eye though, the impossible, the inconceivable happened and Faith witnessed the melting of stone when Thorin, the impassable, brought his other hand up to cup her behind, lifting her higher and returning the urgency of her kiss.

There was heat bleeding into her skin, radiating in pulsating waves from his body, and Faith clawed at the tunic he was wearing still, desperate to feel the beating of his heart.

“Woman.” He rumbled again, low in his chest, and she gave his hair another tug, much less gentle than the first ones.

His hand held her up perfectly, so she slung her legs around his midriff, one hand clawed into his tunic and the other holding on to his mane as if she was riding a wild horse bareback.

“Say my name!” He demanded again as she gasped for air, drowning in his eyes, and unwilling to move away for longer than a second for fear that he’d decide that he had enough of her kisses. Despite his actions, she could feel him hold back and pull away; he seemed a ghostly visitor more than an actual person in this second, and she half-expected to wake up bathed in cold sweat any moment, her sweet dream dissolving in the morning mists.

“No titles, just my name. Say my name!”

She whispered his name, blind to anything but his beauty, deaf and dead to the world. He brushed away a strand of her own hair and smiled: “Your first kiss was not supposed to be anything like that, sweetling.”

Regret tinged his voice; she could hear the sadness of the old when seeing the young squander gifts they sorely missed themselves.

“It should have been sweet.” Thorin brushed his thumb over her cheek where the remnants of her injuries painted dying rainbows on her skin and touched his lips almost reverently to hers for a second. “It should have been cautious.” This time, he lingered a little longer, intensifying the delicious pressure and sucking ever so gently on her lower lip. “It should have been seductive.” He went on varying the constellations of his lips on hers, a tantalising dance of sensations and movement.

“It should have been with someone you care about.” He spoke against her lips. “It should have been given freely and not coerced by duty.” She shot back, biting down on his lower lip teasingly.

“Coerced? Oh, sweetling…” He chuckled. He had hesitated, sure, but it was not as if he had thrown her off as soon as she tightened the reins she had wound around his senses and mind. Even now, her legs ensnared him, and her hand was clenched in his hair and yet she had the audacity to speak as if he had outright rejected her.

“And I do care about you.” She added, softer, nibbling tenderly on his skin which made him shift under her, shivering with suppressed urges that set his blood ablaze. “Do you?” He sounded doubtful. Of course, she liked him well as a friend, she had said so many times and, unlike most of her kind he had met, she seemed to understand and respect his status amongst his own people, but did she care for him the way women cared for those they let kiss them?

“Your sister might be right, and you ARE a vain creature.” Faith laughed. “Demanding to hear your own name and to be showered with praise and compliments.”

“She said that? Hmmm, we’ll have words.” Thorin grumbled, looking thoroughly displeased with this piece of news.

“Thorin, I do care for you, and I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me again rather than have words with your sister.” Faith purred against his skin. “Let go of my hair, woman, so I can bolt your door. It would be very unfortunate for both of us if someone tried to have a conversation with you…only to find me half undressed and you wrapped around me like ivy.”

Faith untangled the silken strands from her fingers but kept the pressure of her legs steady. “Alright.” Thorin shrugged, moving over to the door as if she was naught more than a cumbersome garment, his hand warm and solid under her butt.

The bolt was driven home with a dull click that echoed in Faith’s head.

“You are not that undressed at all.” Faith commented, feeling her own shift move inexorably up her thighs with every step that he took. “I thought you were afraid to see me undressed? Bad luck and so on?” He cocked one eyebrow.

“I have luck on my side.” She replied with a smile, wrapping one of his braids around her finger and kissing the tip of his nose.

He had to laugh about that but getting off any more of the many layers formal clothing demanded was rather a difficult enterprise with a woman slung around him and clinging to his body like yet another coat. “If you permit then?”

It was a miracle that his tunic had not just fallen to ashes and dust, crumpled between his burning skin and hers, he thought as he shrugged out of it. “Oh, great creator, I shall have to make adequate sacrifices.” Faith hissed under her breath.

“You are hellbent on ruining the both of us, huh?” Thorin laughed darkly as he saw her lick her lips in quiet contemplation.

Every thought of fatigue fled Faith’s mind as she beheld what could only be described as marvellous; he looked like the princes her nan had described in her fairy tales, like a character out of a bed-time-story for adults.

With her off his chest, quite literally, Thorin could catch his breath and realisation ran like ice through his heated blood; her swollen lips and her gleaming eyes screamed of the trespass he had been about to commit.

“Let me pour you some wine, Mistress. You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” Thorin picked up a carafe and handed her a sturdy mug, filled to the brim. “I do not want to talk, Thorin-king, you…you’re half naked. What is there to talk about?”

He was stalling, Faith realised. “Am I that repugnant?” She took a deep swig of the slightly sour wine that made her tongue prickle. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, woman.” Thorin said slowly, sitting down on the bed so he wouldn’t be towering over her during this tremendously important conversation. It would have been too easy to let himself be caught up in her warm beauty; the door was locked, they were alone and there was a bed…but she deserved better and, as he knew what this would possibly entail and what she risked, it was his responsibility to steer her away from a fatal mistake.

It felt like tearing out his own guts and throwing them into the fire, he had to admit, but he would not falter, he would not give into the greed that was the curse of his bloodline and the bad reputation of his people. Not if he could help it.

Looking down at his bared chest, he realised how close he had come to being seduced and how strong the spell he was under really was, for him to undress haphazardly in a woman’s room, throwing over decorum and years of training.

He should have been able to restrain his own needs and urges better; it was shameful how much he yearned to kiss her again until the rising tide of lust would wash both of them away, along with all the better judgement and the common sense that held him back now.

“I will leave this place in hopes of reconquering my homeland, I need you to be safe in these halls.” He sighed. “I cannot ruin your name. I cannot leave you soiled, exposed to the gossiping of vicious tongues.”

“Nobody needs to know?” Faith cocked her head. He laughed wryly: “They would know, darling. It…what you have in mind is complicated, especially between someone as frail as you and…well, me.” He gestured at his broad chest.

“I might hurt you, and Faith, I’d never risk injuring you. You have to understand, I care too much for your well-being.”

“I understand.” Faith tried hard to swallow the tears that were welling up against her will or better judgement. “Don’t cry, sweetling, ghivashel, don’t!” He felt like a villain, but how could he make her understand that there was an actual threat to her safety? She felt rejected, of course she would, she had all but explicitly offered him her maidenhood and he had stepped back.

Did this make him a liar? He had willingly given in to her kisses, he had reciprocated them, and now he wouldn’t see this through for oh so many reasons that she could not fathom.

It pained him to think that she might believe, if even for but a moment, that it was a lack of attraction on his side that made him pull back. If he could have, he would have shown her the extent of his despair that was throbbing almost painfully against his thigh; yes, he might have brandished the angry, red proof of his desire for her, but he didn’t think that it would allay her pain and confusion. Contradicting feelings and desires swirled heavily in his mind and soul, and he sighed.

“Come here, darling one, come.” He beckoned her to him and embraced the torture of having her nestled on his lap, pulling his fingers through her silken hair, and breathing in her sweet smell. It would have been simple to let her believe that he did not want her, but he couldn’t bear lying to her. “Don’t think for one second that I do not want this, you, us.” He started.

“One day, we’ll have time, oh so much time, sweet one.” He promised. “My life is running out already, Thorin-king, my time is short compared to yours.” She contradicted him vehemently. “Soon, I swear. I shall make haste in my conquest. I will fulfil your every wish, I promise, once Erebor is reclaimed and I know that you are safe and cared for.”

She was not secure here; she was a stranger, a foreigner, and he was afraid that once he left with most of the people she had learned to trust, there would be considerable danger to her life and sanity. Her good name and her integrity would both attract suitors and keep unsavoury characters away from her, or at least, so he hoped. He could not destroy that layer of literal protection, stripping it from her in selfish voraciousness when she needed it most.

“Thorin-king…what if you get lost again?” She asked quietly. “I will find my way back to the right path. Neither storm nor contrary forces shall stop me.” He replied calmly and she believed him.

“In that case, add me to the spoils of your imminent victory, darling king.” She stepped up to his sitting form and rested her cheek against the crown of his head tenderly. She did not see the fire that his boiling blood drove into his eyes upon hearing her sweet, selfless willingness to risk her hale body and her social standing to be his; the torturous need of his life and limb were burning bright within him. God, how he yearned for her, for everything she offered and everything she didn’t yet know she could give to a man. He wanted that sweet mouth on his body and her tender words in his ears while he covered her like a blanket, protecting her, taking her to a world she had never been in before and stay there until the end of time.

Taking off her shift, she stood, naked as the day she had been born and turned in the golden light of the fire crackling in the hearth. “This is what I offer, now and every other day, Thorin-king.” She said in a low, trembling voice.

“You asked me before and I repeat: when you call for me, I shall come.” – “You are beautiful.” He sighed; her beauty in the warm glow of the flames mesmerized him and, once again, he felt himself totter at the edge of control.

His hands closed around her wrists, pulling her close once more and he pressed his lips against her collar bone in wordless adoration. Her soft moan drove him half to distraction, but this was neither the place nor the moment for those thoughts and actions. He wanted to have time and a place that was his own; he wanted to have her, oh desperately so, but he would lay her down on silk and furs and caress her without the looming shadow of impending doom nipping at his heels.

First, he would have to prove himself worthy of her faith and his people’s hopes before he could allow himself the reward of getting lost in her flesh; but, oh, how hard it was to say no to the alluring softness of her skin and the dizzying smell of her arousal. He would carry the memory of her self-forgotten kisses across the plains and the mountains, safe within his heart and burning within his veins.

This one thing though, this one gift, would not be ripped from her, hastily, in passing, casually; no, he would honour her and her sacrifice duly, he would spend hours coaxing the sweetest of sounds from her and he would revel in them.

“So are you, Thorin.” She smiled at him with all that affection he had learned to cherish so deeply. “Will you still call me beautiful me when I am king? Will you let me have then what nobody ever had before and never give it to someone else?” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. A terrible fear had taken hold of him; it was not possible, it was not right, it was not decent to deflower her here and now, but still, the idea of someone else claiming that privilege pained him like a poisoned blade thrust ever so slowly between his ribs. It might have been unfair, but he wanted her to know that it was out of respect for the gift she offered that he had declined. He needed her to promise to hold on to it until they were reunited.

“You are my friend, Thorin, and I’ve cared for you wandering, I’ve respected you poor, and I shall admire you victorious.” She answered cryptically, pretending not to hear the underlying meaning of his words.

She would be willing to be his in ways she would never be anybody else’s ever again, Faith knew, but her life was short, and he would have to find a proper queen sooner or later. He was emotional now, that was to be expected, the most important quest of his life was about to begin; a way to right all the wrongs, a redemption, a rewriting of history. Too many half-truths had been spoken recklessly, too many things had transpired that had not been planned, and he had no idea what he was talking about in this moment; she could forget, she would forgive, it was not in his nature to lead people astray and give them false hopes. Not him.

Inner turmoil, that was the explanation for his words, he was merely relieved to be back with his family and apprehensive of the long road ahead to the Lonely Mountain. Also, he clearly had a different notion of time.

She knew not what he expected to happen on his quest, she did not understand why he’d doubt her eternal adulation of his person, but she was too vulnerable and too scared to probe any further. There were other things that needed to be resolved first…

The end of the long wanderings, a return home…she had been wrong to distract him from this singular purpose that would define more than just his own fate. She wished she could promise him what he wanted her to say, but dwarrows lived long and they had a good memory of broken vows and false oaths.

How could she have promised him more than her affection when it was worth nothing? It had been so easy for him to rebuff her, and she would have to nurse this wound in private; the sting of it ran deep and its ragged claws burying deep within her soul were a pain that was new and shocking to her. Still, she did not withhold words he had asked for out of petty vengeance; he seemed so sure that he knew about risks and dangers she was unaware of, well, she was painfully conscious of realities he seemed to wilfully ignore, like the fact that she might not live to see the day he was crowned king.

Lie, to ease his mind, to give him courage, a voice inside her head whispered, but she loved him too dearly to do him wrong like that. He might well turn out to be her first and her last lover if he did not tire of her before her life expired, but that meant nothing in the grand scheme of his glorious purpose and his illustrious life. They had both tried to make this situation into something momentous, something memorable, and they had both failed miserably, shipwrecked on the rocks of social conventions, the promise of dark times ahead and physical incompatibilities. How ridiculous it all sounded!

Then again, he had been more gracious and generous than her, swearing that he would bed her once Erebor was reclaimed. If, Faith thought, if Erebor was reclaimed within her lifetime and if he survived the ordeals that would become necessary, then he might reconsider taking her as a lover; one of many, one in a long line of lovers, or, worse, the only one. One he would lose too soon and that might leave scars on his soul, no, he did not care for her in that way, no matter the inflection of his raw voice.

He had never sworn fidelity to her; he had merely asked for hers. She should have said yes to that, ignoring what it meant for her and how extensive that oath would have been, but she had been too afraid to promise more than she could offer.

Silence fell between them, filled with words unspoken and desires unfulfilled.

“I have stayed too long already.” Thorin got up jerkily, grabbing his clothes, but she stayed his hand.

“Let me see what you’ve promised me, give me something to hold on to while you’re away.” She was a hypocrite, but she needed this much more than him. The months apart would feel longer to her, and she would think of him as there was nothing else to think of, while he would be too occupied with his great deeds to spare her any thought.

“Woman.” He shook his head but took off his breeches and his small clothes in swift, almost despondent movements.

She gasped, breathless, amazed. He really did look like he was hewn from the most elegant of stones, his body made up of strong, broad planes partially powdered with dark hair. As she directed her eyes to that one part of the male anatomy that had occupied so many of her maiden dreams, she revised her original assessment. This had not been a mason’s work, this was a sculptor’s doing; no matter how fine the chisel, such beauty and delicate curve could only be achieved by painstaking moulding of the wet clay.

How she longed to run her own palms along the smooth surface again and again until she could feel the perfection manifest under her fingertips. She had of course seen parts of him undressed, bits and pieces, flashes of skin and wounds, but this was different; this was unapologetic nakedness in all its glory, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the strength of his limbs.

“Glorious!” She exclaimed and touched her forehead in a sign of devotion he had observed in some of the men he had met.

The roaring fire in his veins was not abated by the expression on her face though, there was that ever-present admiration and the respectful awe, but he could also read hunger and unveiled desire in her eyes that drove her to squirm deliciously.

“Can you now see why this would be a potential risk to your health?” He asked, cocking one eyebrow; maybe, he was indeed a tiny tad vain, but she could not even open doors on her own, how would she support his weight or welcome him inside of her?

“I can see that…” Faith whispered, approaching him like a wild animal, one hand outstretched in front of her. She advanced until her hand landed squarely on his chest, tangling her fingers in the coarser hair in the same way she had done with his mane before.

“Sweetling.” He murmured, moaning under his breath when her body pressed up against his: warm, soft, and very alive.

“I do understand.” Faith went on, kissing his neck just underneath the line where his beard ended.

“Faith…” He groaned, his hands wrapping around the small of her back, even though he was not sure if he was trying to push her away or pull her closer still. “Thank you for this. I shall treasure the memory.” She whispered against his skin while her fingers slid into his hair and raked across his scalp.

He would not go back on his word, Thorin swore to himself, but it wouldn’t hurt either one of them to kiss her again. At least he hoped that it wouldn’t because, already, his mouth was on hers, plundering her sweet surrender shamelessly.

Her hands tightened and he could feel her legs clenching in waves. Convinced of his own strength, he dared to let his own hand cup her mount and had to discover how wrong he had been. She was drenched. This would take every ounce of self-control to step away from, even more so because she whimpered into his mouth while pressing eagerly against his palm.

Time was flying, he had been on his way out of her room, he tried to cut through the red mist overtaking his thoughts. How had he ended up with her sex weeping all over his skin while he sucked in her whimpering pleas like a drowning man the saving air of the surface?

This was not the way it was supposed to be, he thought, she deserved more than messy kisses in an empty room. “Sweetling.” He sighed…and cursed.

It was but the slightest of caresses, so light it might have been a gust of wind, but there was no draft in the room and one of her hands had disappeared from his hair. “May I?” She breathed against his lips, smelling, and tasting of tart wine and sweet submission. He wanted to shake his head and ended up nodding, dazed. His teeth clacked shut with the violence of an earthquake as her fingers danced along his length, searching, as if she was a blind person trying to identify an unknown object.

He was not a youngling; he had known handsy encounters in dark corners, but her beatific smile unfurling as her eyes fluttered shut drove him half-mad; he was torn between the rising need to just possess her and damned be the consequences and the urge to lay the whole world at her feet.

“So warm.” She mumbled to herself, visibly happy to have discovered the secret of manhood and to have the opportunity to explore. Thorin had to consider as well that she had no idea what this felt like for him; he had been on the road with her for a considerable time, thinking about her, seeing her half-naked and now, she was in his arms, her fingers wrapping and unwrapping around his cock. He would not make a fool of himself, but it became increasingly harder to swallow the sounds of desperate need bubbling up at the back of his throat.

As the low grunt broke through his defences, she shrunk back, asking if she had hurt him somehow. Her…hurting him…What a ludicrous idea. “No, sweetling, but you make it really hard not to break all the sensible resolutions I have just explained in detail.” He chuckled darkly, struggling to regain the upper hand over his baser needs.

“I am sorry, I am being indecent.” She murmured quickly, hiding her hands behind her back. “You’re not. I…I wish we had time.” He let his forehead sink against hers before pressing a tender kiss on her brow.

“At least now you know how desperately I desire you. I shall leave for Erebor soon, I cannot wait to reclaim the Lonely Mountain and bed you in a way you deserve. Wait for me!” He whispered, his hands caressing her cheek gently.

Faith knew that she would wait until her hair started fading to white and her eyes were no longer able to make out the outlines on the horizon; whatever time was granted to her would be spent keeping a watchful eye on the sky to make sure not to miss his missive. “I shall.” She promised, that much, she could swear easily.

“Oh, this will be a long night.” Thorin groaned, as he tried to wrangle his body back into his clothes. “Do not close the door, I have to be up early, and I do not care to wake the whole settlement.” Faith called out to him, slipping between her sheets.

“You are naked, woman. I will not leave your door open. Especially…” He waved at her heated face and her rosy body, flushed with the fire he had kindled within her. If he could feel her heat, who was to say that someone else would not wander this way and be less scrupulous than him?

“Do NOT lock me in.” she pleaded quietly. “Wait there! Don’t move!” He barked and disappeared, fully dressed again. Within a few minutes, he was back, carrying what looked suspiciously like a sleeping roll. “What are you doing, Thorin-king?”

“I will guard your door like that blasted dragon sleeps on the treasure of my family.” He grumbled, sitting down on the flimsy-looking piece of fabric.

“You cannot do that!” She exclaimed, propelling herself out of bed, dragging the sheets behind her and kneeling in front of him to stare at him severely. “You have seen me sleep on the ground, woman, do not act surprised! Beds will be a rare commodity on the road to Erebor as well…I can stay here without dying.” He laughed.

“You are king here; you cannot sleep in front of my door. You need your bed. I’ll be fine.” She promised, encircling his bulging biceps with both her hands, and giving it a tentative shake that made him cock one eyebrow in confusion.

“Mistress, you don’t want your door closed and I don’t want to find you despoiled and bleeding in the morning. So, I will stay right here. Don’t worry, if I get too tired, someone else will take over for me.” He assured her, caressing her wild hair tenderly.

Not only does he intend to sleep on the hard floor, Faith thought, but he also planned to stay awake for the bigger part of the night. Stubborn, headstrong dwarf!

#hobbit #thorin oakenshield #oc #before erebor #before the quest #light smut #struggle #black #difficult chapter #sex is hard #I'm so sorry

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