#anyway reblog with your thoughts too please i need to see them :)))

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[ovaryacted]

HANDSY

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader || WC: 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: Your cycle is ruining your mood, and what better thing to do than get a free massage.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Suggestive content. Titty massage. Slight daddy kink. Established relationship. Joel being a little bastard. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in their 20s). Mentions of menstrual cycle and female characteristics about the chest. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

A/N: Alright, I'm kinda on a Joel Miller streak and I was just thinking about getting my tiddies rubbed by a man with strong & rough hands and this happened. Don't look at me like that okay, this is self indulgent and I just had to alright. Hopefully this is relatable for some of y'all lol. Shout out to everyone who has to deal with periods, you are stronger than the marines. Anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Another month. Another week of unruly irritation, mood swings, and uncomfortable reactions to anything that breathed too hard or moved too fast. In the hecticness that was your current reality, dealing with the devil’s wrath was supposed to be something that slipped past your mind. Yet, in the efforts of your survival, having a menstrual cycle still took you off guard every time it came punching through your gut.

Tossing and turning in bed, you tried to get in the best position to ease your cramps by curling up in a fetal position. You thought it would make things better, but instead, the discomfort you felt all over your body pissed you off even more. A frustrated grumble filled the bedroom, flinging the sheets away and furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of relief.

Where the fuck is he?

Throwing on a pair of slippers you luckily claimed on a supply run, you shuffled down the creaky stairs of your home and wandered about until you reached the living room. Joel was hunched over his seat on the couch, currently messing with his guitar strings, aware of your presence the moment you hit the base of the stairway.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned you as he took in your features and noticed your pout. You were upset; that was obvious when he found you in bed earlier today instead of somewhere else in the house. Simply kissing your forehead and letting you rest as best as he could, he expected you to come down to talk to him eventually when you had the energy to do so.

Joel didn’t say anything as you came closer to him without uttering a word, slipping your legs over his thick thighs and pressing your face into the curve of his neck. He put his guitar to the side and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hands instinctively digging into your lower back where you felt the most sore. He could tell from the way you clung to him that it was that time of the month, already having gotten used to your changes in demeanor to see the signs.

“Uncomfortable?” Joel asked again, trying to get a better read on your emotions, but he only received an annoyed grunt in response. “Guess we’re just gonna sit here then.”

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, trying his best to lessen the strain you felt. He could snag some herbs to make you tea later if you were in the mood for it, but right now, a massage is what you could handle. His touch made you sigh with alleviation, focusing on the pressure points along your shoulder and backbone. Even with his attempts, the front of your body continued to ache.

“My boobs are fucking killing me.” You declared out loud, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping from the back of his throat.

“You need me to massage them?” Joel offered, and his intention of doing that was purely to make you feel better. Though, you couldn’t ignore the slight flutter in your belly at the idea of having his hands elsewhere. 

Giving him a nod, you sat straighter on his lap, holding his gaze as he slipped his hands underneath the flannel you wore and made a beeline for your chest. Joel didn’t flinch at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, being told once or twice how freeing it was not to have to deal with the constant friction of clothes against your heated skin.

He palmed both of your breasts and squeezed, his grip just strong enough to calm the throbbing of the swelling from your change in hormones. Your eyes closed as you focused on his touch, allowing Joel to do whatever he wanted with you, what he knew best.

“Feelin’ better?” You heard him ask, humming out in reply. He grinned at your reaction, the hum sounding close to a purr as he pawed at your chest.

Taking his hands out from underneath your—his shirt, you whined, a smirk tugging at the corners of Joel’s lips. Lifting the top of the flannel to rest on your collarbone, his attention went back to your breasts, looking at them with a mix of desire and affectionate pity.

“Poor baby. Hormones got my girl all cranky and upset.” He said, placing a soft kiss on the top of each breast before handling your body once more. You don’t know whether or not he was deliberately teasing you when you were the most vulnerable, but just hearing his voice was doing wonders to soothe your nerves.

You’ve always been fascinated with Joel’s hands since you met him, watching how he’d hold the handle of his gun or insert ammo into the magazine before reloading. His palms were rough, and his fingers were rougher, representing a man who’s lived a long life, who’s done unspeakable things to survive and get to this point. To most, they’d dislike the feeling of having so much of a contrast, but to you, the difference of his skin against yours was almost euphoric.

Joel squeezed with more purpose, focusing on tightening his grasp along the sides where the pain was the most prominent. One harsh thumb came to stroke at your sensitive nipple in gentle circles, pulling a breathless moan from between your lips. The smile on his face widened when his ears picked up the sound, moving to do a combination of deliberate squeezes and circles on the exposed nubs.

The warmth of his touch morphed into something else, need coiling in your stomach and clawing up your throat. As discretely as you could, your hips shifted further into his, craving much more than what he was giving you. Joel couldn’t help himself and brought you closer to him, grinding his hips up into yours. That got your attention, looking into his hazel eyes to find his pupils narrowly dilated.

“If you need me to rub somethin’ else, I can.” Despite the years worn on his face, he still had a certain boyish charm that jerked at your heartstrings when he flirted with you. Or, maybe it was just his southern gentleman persona, ever so willing to tend to your needs no matter what they may be.

“You’re annoying.” You mumbled to him, stubbornly refusing to outright beg for his affection, regardless of how badly you craved it.

“And you’re moody.” Joel kissed you tenderly, drawing away and snickering when you leaned forward to chase his lips for another.

“Let daddy make you feel good. Alright, darlin’?” You nodded dumbly at the proposition of getting something more than your tits massaged.

His eyes flashed with lust, making quick work to peel off the flannel and toss it to the ground. Already growing hard at the thought of having his way with you, he tilted towards you, kissing the column of your neck and letting his beard tickle your skin. You released a shaky exhale, fingers running through his graying hair and tipping your head back to grant him more access to your skin.

“Atta girl.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[x-brik-x]

I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

[seokgyuu]

After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to… you simply don’t let him.

Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader

Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!

Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is… acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of… filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!

tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)

Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!

His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.

Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable.

Like with you.

When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.

See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.

The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t… half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.

He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.

It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.

A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.

Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.

But… you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.

The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.

One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.

Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.

All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.

A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.

Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.

Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.

“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”

You shook your head no.

“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”

Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.

“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.

“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”

You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.

“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”

Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-

“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”

Which is how we get to… now.

His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.

You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.

And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.

This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!

Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.

The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.

Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.

He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.

“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.

“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.

Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.

Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.

“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.

You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.

Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.

“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.

By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.

“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.

For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.

“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.

Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.

The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.

He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.

“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.

“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.

He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.

After that it spirals.

He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.

He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.

When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.

He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.

Just that… you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.

When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.

“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.

“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.

“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.

Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you…

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”

You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.

“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.

He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.

“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.

“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”

Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.

Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.

“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.

For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.

Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.

And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.

[tbaluver]

hello there ! firstly, i wanted to tell you that i genuinely love your writing bc of the amazing characterization of the lnds boys !!! i wanted to request smth myself <3 feel free to ignore this if it's smth not within your taste !

i just recently thought that it would be cute to have a reader with a disney princess-like voice singing lullabies ! it could be their child or someone they babysit ! you could do any of the lnds boys that react to this but personally i'd like to see zayne (mainly bc he'd probably see reader at the hospital's kids area doing this !) and sylus, please ! thank you for your writing, we adore it ! ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡

When They Hear You Singing A Lullaby- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: eeeee anonnie i'm so happy to hear you love my writings it always makes me day !! im always grateful and love your guys support for my silly writings ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) i hope this is alright and that you enjoy this anonnie ! and also this emoticon is so cute omg i'm going to use this often ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

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Xavier:

You thought he would be sound asleep when he was over at your place when you were babysitting one of your co-workers baby. The baby wasn't necessarily fussy at all with you but it started crying because it couldn't go to sleep. It woke Xavier up and he followed the sound of the crying down the hall until he overheard you singing a lullaby.

He would peek through the door to hear and watch you put the baby back to sleep. He watches in pure adoration, a soft smile spreading across his face. After you gently set the baby down, he approaches you slowly, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder. "You sang so beautifully," He whispers softly, careful not to disturb the baby. "Can you sing me to sleep next?"

"As if you need any help sleeping" You joked but you did it anyway. You sang a soft lullaby as he rested his head on your chest. He drifted off to sleep almost instantly, a soft smile on his face, before you could even finish the song

Zayne:

While waiting for Zayne to finish his shift at the hospital, you received a text from him apologizing for the delay; he needed to discuss an upcoming operation with his colleagues. You texted him to take his time and began exploring the familiar hospital halls. As you wandered, you found yourself in the children’s area, admiring the colorful murals that brighten the space. Your growing hunger led you in search of a vending machine, but instead, you encountered a crying familiar child patient. You remember this child when you collected their drawings for the charity event you and Zayne helped with.

You crouch down to meet eye level with the child asking if they needed any assistance or if they needed a nurse but they simply shook their head saying that they can't find the nurse and that they can't sleep. They tugged your arm and asked if you can tell them a story or sing them a lullaby and you were more than happy to help out.

After finishing his shift, Zayne looked for you in the work hallway, but it was empty. He texted you but got no response, so he followed your shared location. As he approached, he heard you singing a familiar children's lullaby. Peeking through the door, he saw your back turned as you sang. He didn't want to interrupt but wanted to hear the whole song for himself too, captivated by your delicate and graceful voice. He was literally melting on the spot as he heard you sing. A smile would slowly spreading across his lips.

He's heard you humming before, usually when your doing your work or when you were helping him out in the kitchen. You let your mind drift off just a little bit as you hummed some of your favorite melodies. He already knew you had a beautiful voice but every time he tried to comment on it, your cheeks would heat up in embarrassment.

Lost in thought, Zayne was startled when you both unexpected crossed paths. You jumped as you emerged from the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, worried that he had heard everything. He spoke first, "There is no reason to be flustered. I think you have a beautiful voice and it's certainly comforting. Whenever you are comfortable I would like to hear more of it."

Rafayel:

He was over at your house while you babysat one of your co-workers baby for the day. He asked if you needed any help when the baby started crying but you said it was okay as you ran off the go tend to the baby while he continued sketching on his sketchbook.

That's when he hears your voice. He sets aside his pencil and sketchbook, stopping his work to peek through the doorway. There, he watches you sing a lullaby while gently cradling the baby. He would think that your voice was beautiful and enchanting that seemed to effortlessly captivate all who hears it.

When you gently put the baby back down to it's bed, he'll be upset. Not literally. But upset that he hasn't heard you sing him a lullaby or ever heard you sing first or at all. He would pout and want you to sing him a lullaby immediately.

When you do, he falls asleep on your shoulder while he was sketching so when he wakes up he thinks your secretly full Leumurian because he hasn't heard a beautiful voice like that years ago.

Sylus:

While Sylus was away on business, you let him know that you were busy taking care of your coworker's baby at your shared home. To be prepared, you had Luke and Kieran on standby in case you needed a break. When the baby began to cry, you swiftly picked them up, cradling them and singing a soothing song. Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran lingered in the hallway, and one of them decided to record your sweet singing and send it to Sylus, giggling as they did so knowing that he would love this.

As night fell and your coworker came to collect their baby, Sylus arrived shortly afterward. “Two little crows mentioned you can sing, sweetie. Is that true?” A blush spread across your cheeks, realizing that the twins had set you up once again. "I wish I could have been there to hear it myself. A video is not the same to hearing your mesmerizing voice in person."

Although he finds it amusing and adorable, he would ask if you could sing him a song to help him unwind because the business he dealt with was stressful. He wouldn't pressure you to sing him a lullaby but he would reassure you that your voice was already one of his favorite sounds already and nothing would ruin that.

That seemed to ease your worries, and as you both settled into bed, you let him unwind. You sang the same lullaby to him that you’d sung to the baby. Your gentle voice was incredibly soothing, wrapping him in a warmth and coziness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite his usual trouble with sleep, your voice made his eyelids grow heavy, a contented smile spreading across his lips as he drifted off.

It was no surprise that he loved hearing you sing and you having this skill made him think that it made you more beautiful to him than you already were.

[dollfacefantasy]

Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth. 

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road.  It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and  surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks. 

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation. 

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself. 

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

[navybrat817]

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you. 

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else. 

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology. 

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked. 

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe. 

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise. 

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either. 

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door. 

"y/n?" 

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are. 

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"y/n, i know you're home." 

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough. 

"are you happy now?" 

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks. 

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now. 

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference." 

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.  

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open. 

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong. 

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks. 

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"  

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.  

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.  

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.  

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —" 

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —" 

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —" 

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –" 

"i know." he knew now. 

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –" 

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you. 

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands. 

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair.  "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again. 

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…" 

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care. 

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you. 

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know. 

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty. 

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin. 

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?" 

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –" 

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.  

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him." 

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away. 

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart. 

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet. 

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder. 

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow. 

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy. 

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.  

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?" 

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty? 

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him." 

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink. 

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you." 

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen. 

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself. 

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light. 

"jaemin's outside." 

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n." 

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick. 

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing. 

"you'll stop seeing y/n?" 

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth. 

"haechan, stop." 

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder. 

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?" 

"i'll stop seeing her." 

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."  

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?" 

"tell her what?" 

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me." 

"is there a difference?" 

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?" 

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?" 

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can." 

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches. 

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her." 

neither of them really believed it. 

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so. 

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties. 

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on. 

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault." 

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?" 

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away." 

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?" 

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part. 

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off." 

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that." 

"but that's what he meant." 

"mark?" 

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me." 

"so he won't see her anymore?" 

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were. 

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face. 

"how did this happen?" 

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision. 

"haechan?" 

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger. 

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this." 

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob. 

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets. 

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words. 

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped. 

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy. 

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face. 

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving. 

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

—

haechan is dreaming again. 

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees. 

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you. 

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his. 

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him. 

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from. 

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness. 

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body. 

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor. 

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy. 

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention? 

he didn't know the answers. 

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms. 

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name. 

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes. 

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name. 

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say. 

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave." 

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again. 

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite. 

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink." 

"did you come with jaemin?" 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here." 

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober. 

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–" 

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this." 

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —" 

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you." 

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n." 

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?" 

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while." 

"so you just don't want to be around me?" 

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you. 

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt. 

and he takes you home. 

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup. 

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin. 

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.  

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed. 

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…" 

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow. 

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?" 

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently. 

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves. 

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. 

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore. 

"haechan, don't you want me?" 

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…" 

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?" 

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say. 

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now." 

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs. 

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again. 

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?" 

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name." 

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep." 

you hum. "haechan." 

"don't," he echoes. 

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep. 

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision. 

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep. 

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls. 

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger. 

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!" 

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room. 

you almost don't believe your eyes. 

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door. 

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up. 

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…" 

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers. 

"you're making it messy —" 

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you. 

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to. 

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…" 

"i'm fine," you croak out. 

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet. 

"is she…?" 

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches." 

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches." 

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers. 

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates. 

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend." 

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours. 

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips. 

"are you sure you're okay?" 

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick. 

"do you…do you remember how you got here?" 

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?" 

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear." 

you nod, dazed. 

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–" 

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again. 

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you. 

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —" 

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused. 

"i…i should go now, right?" 

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk." 

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?" 

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before. 

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please." 

you don't know what to do. 

"hyuckie?" 

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell." 

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"  

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?" 

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly. 

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?" 

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?" 

he nods, a little dazed. "really?" 

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too." 

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling. 

— 

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down. 

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage. 

"did you get her to school?" 

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?" 

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness. 

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache. 

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath. 

"y/n, i'm really sorry." 

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?" 

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands. 

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap. 

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs. 

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure. 

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits. 

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.  

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was." 

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally." 

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat. 

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you." 

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me." 

"he what?" 

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted." 

"and now?" 

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before." 

your breath catches. 

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here." 

"you miss me?" 

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now? 

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that." 

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you." 

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay. 

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before." 

he nods, quickly. "of course." 

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?" 

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them. 

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?" 

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless. 

"haechan?" 

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?" 

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –" 

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers. 

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"  

" – that's not possible." 

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him. 

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles. 

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to." 

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. 

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too. 

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before." 

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop. 

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight. 

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers. 

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you." 

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts. 

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship." 

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?" 

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his. 

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops. 

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.  

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. 

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you. 

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing. 

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words. 

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn. 

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.  

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.  

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right." 

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him. 

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship? 

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place. 

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light. 

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks." 

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then — 

"do you want to talk about rules now?" 

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows. 

"sure." 

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?" 

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry." 

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either." 

he hesitates. "so…no marking?" 

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?" 

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?" 

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?" 

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd." 

"oh." 

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please." 

"are we still a secret?" 

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers." 

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me." 

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…" 

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully. 

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly. 

but he shakes his head. "don't go." 

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves. 

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you. 

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar. 

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile. 

"friends?" 

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one. 

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?" 

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly. 

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more." 

but there are things to soothe the ache. 

"did you like the show?" 

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage. 

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface. 

"it was good," you murmur. 

"yeah?" 

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too. 

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend." 

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention." 

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist. 

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips. 

there's a beat. 

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?" 

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly. 

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?" 

"baby's fine," you whisper. 

"princess?" 

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay." 

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine." 

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…" 

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth. 

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?" 

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be. 

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble. 

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply. 

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them. 

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you." 

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been. 

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips. 

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support. 

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-" 

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it. 

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all. 

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists. 

he lifts his head. 

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. 

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster. 

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?" 

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-" 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?" 

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?" 

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core. 

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds. 

"how are you so wet? fuck-" 

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit. 

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly . 

"from watching you perform," you say, softly. 

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours. 

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space. 

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit. 

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly. 

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers. 

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours. 

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-" 

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark. 

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint. 

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest. 

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass. 

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well. 

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess." 

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall. 

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs. 

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip. 

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby." 

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides. 

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself. 

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure. 

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?" 

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear. 

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs. 

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared. 

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap. 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek. 

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly. 

"you got stronger," you blurt out. 

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth. 

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it." 

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes. 

"you deserve better," he says, quietly. 

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all. 

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve." 

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up. 

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me." 

he does exactly as you say. 

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake. 

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home. 

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink. 

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures. 

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos. 

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off. 

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?" 

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him.  "rockstar." 

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n,"  his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it. 

"haechan?" 

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please." 

"now?" 

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess." 

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you. 

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you. 

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi." 

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset? 

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself. 

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face. 

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?" 

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead. 

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms. 

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?" 

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time. 

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out." 

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide. 

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor. 

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long. 

but of course, things are never easy. 

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight. 

"you look nice," he says, quietly. 

your lips part. "haechan-" 

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?" 

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go. 

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n." 

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs. 

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason. 

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat. 

"this isn't working out, is it?" 

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes. 

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible. 

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words. 

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety. 

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved. 

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you  "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently. 

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends." 

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next. 

"since we're friends…" 

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink. 

"can i ask…do you like haechan?" 

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face. 

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer. 

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask." 

you don't have the heart to answer him directly. 

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him." 

"know him?" he asks, confused. 

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess." 

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?" 

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours. 

"maybe," you say, softly. 

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?" 

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head. 

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands. 

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling. 

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next. 

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening. 

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him. 

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable. 

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose. 

let's try not to do anything romantic. 

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it. 

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation. 

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure. 

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good." 

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"  

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song. 

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his. 

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-" 

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock. 

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him. 

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again. 

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me. 

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

[vicsnook]

Out of Oklahoma | Tyler Owens x Reader

word count: 3326

warnings: Tornadoes, Loss, Implied smut

notes: Hey y’all 🤠 I am back with some more content! When I tell y’all I was sat at that theater. Even my boyfriend was thirsting over Glen (specifically in the rain scene, iykyk). Anyways, hope y’all enjoy this one and please don’t forget to like and reblog 🫶🏼.

I crawl out of the hotel bed at 5, hitting the snooze button on the way to the bathroom. My reflection looks back at me less than thrilled for what’s to come today.

Apparently the world hates me because there is no coffee to brew when I check the kitchenette, so now my day’s gone from bad to worse. I check my phone and sure enough I have a million messages from my dumba-sweet brother Boone about how he can’t wait for me to meet his friends.

I'm not ready for that. But nevertheless I carry on and make my way to the airport to board a flight to take me home, to Oklahoma. It’s fine, I think to myself. It’s all going to be okay. But I know it’s a lie. Still I get on the plane and pretend I’m going somewhere tropical instead of the one place I swore I wouldn’t return to.

The wheels touch down roughly on the strip, startling me awake. Here goes nothing. The airport is packed but thankfully all I have is my carry on which holds what little I left to California with six months ago. So much for making a life for myself.

The old Ram is parked just outside the doors and I know I can’t put this off any longer. After what happened last year, I want to turn around and get the hell out of dodge but I can’t avoid him forever. Not when my family needs me, well what’s left of it. “Well, well, well, look at what the cat drug in.”

I sigh and look up, locking eyes with the one person I didn’t want to see ever again. Tyler Owens. My ex-fiancée.

“Tyler. Nice to see you didn’t get blown away by a Tornado,” I force out with the fakest smile I can muster. God knows I’d love to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, amongst other things, I shake my head dismissing the stupid thought.

“Y/N, good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. That all your luggage?” he asks, grabbing my carry on from me and placing it in the bed of the truck before I can even answer. “Yep,” I mumble, getting into the truck.

“So, where’s Boone?” I ask, trying to ease the tension.

Tyler glances over at me and I feel my stomach do a stupid flip. Stop it!

“He’s at your Nana’s house dealing with some of the insurance people. I’m really sorry about what happened, Y/N.” he says. “We tried to warn them.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s not your fault, Tyler. You didn’t know it would turn and hit them directly.” I start to reach for his arm to comfort him but pull it back, the gesture feeling inappropriate after all that happened between us.

He nods and continues to drive on. Him and Boone blame themselves but I know there’s nothing they could’ve done. I just wish they’d see it that way.

-

The ruins of the home we grew up in come into view and my heart shatters all over again. The anger bubbling in my stomach as I see all the tornado took from us. Why!? Why us!? I want to scream at the sky as I walk up to my brother who I can tell is barely holding it together.

“Hey Boonie,” I whisper, hugging his back. His breathing shakes as he turns and pulls me into a hug, nearly suffocating me. “I tried sissy, I really did but they’re gone.” he says, “I was too late.”

I hold him as he finally breaks down and I try whispering reassurances in his ear but I know he’s not listening. My eyes make contact with Tyler’s as he heads towards the rubble and begins to sort things out.

“It’s not your fault, Boonie.” I say, holding his face so he looks at me. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

He nods quietly, pulling me in for another hug as the guilt consumes me for having left him behind. I should’ve never gone to California.

-

I follow Tyler to the entrance of the dingy motel on the edge of town, still holding on to Boone’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Y/N.” Boone says, handing me the key to my room. “Always,” I respond. Squeezing his hand one last time as he turns to go to his room.

“Where’s the rest of your crew? I haven’t seen them.” I ask Tyler as we head up the stairs since our rooms are on the second floor. “They’re helping some people downtown that got hit too. They asked me to give you their condolences.” He answers, stopping in front of my door.

“Um, thanks and thank you for all you’ve been doing for Boone. I hate that I couldn’t get here sooner.” I say. “California wasn’t all I thought it’d be.”

“Tried to tell ya.”

“I know. I'm sorry, Tyler.”

He moves a step forward and drops his mouth beside my ear, the distance between us almost non-existent. “Nothing to be sorry about, darling.” He drawls, pulling back, then turning around and walking into his room, leaving me in the hallway.

This man will be the death of me.

-

The weeks go by slowly as we deal with the insurance but somewhere along the way we finally get Nana’s ashes back. Boone and I take them out to the river, spreading them at the one place she loved most.

“So how are things between Kate and Tyler?” I ask Boone as we head back to the motel from the pizza parlor.

My stomach clenches, waiting for his answer.

He looks at me and grins. “Why you want to know Sissy? Any interest in getting back in that saddle?”

“Ew! No! I was just curious, Boone.” I say, glaring at him while he laughs.

“They never really were anything serious. She ran off to New York City the second she got her research. Oklahoma held too many painful memories for her or something.”

I nod. Pulling into the motel parking lot that we now call home. That is until the money from the insurance comes through and we can get to rebuilding Nana’s place.

“There’s the man of the hour.” Says Boone pointing at Tyler who’s getting out of his truck. The white shirt clinging to his chiseled chest because of the rain.

He really does look good in a cowboy hat. I think, quickly shaking my head trying to erase the thought. “Close your mouth Sissy, you’re gonna get drool all over yourself.” Boone teases and I playfully smack him, tearing my eyes off Tyler.

“You know Sissy, I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” I ask, turning off the ignition.

“How y’all girls run away from that man. I mean I ain’t blind and I may be biased because he’s my best friend but his personality doesn’t suck either.” I sigh, knowing he’s not wrong.

“It’s complicated.” I finally say, and get out of the car. Heading for my room before Boone can add anything else.

-

“Where are we going?” I ask again for the millionth time. Letting Tyler and Boone blindfold me was starting to seem like a mistake the longer we were in the truck.

It also didn’t help that Tyler was playing the cd I burned for him back in high school.

“Almost there, Sissy.” Boone assures me, as the truck left the paved road and headed down a dirt road. Please Lord don’t let this be another one of Boone’s pranks.

Tyler helps me out the truck and leads me down a rocky path. My nerves increasing by the second and wondering where my brother had ran off to.

“Tada!” yells Boone, the bandana falling off my eyes as Tyler pulls off the knot.

“I know it ain't much Sissy but I couldn’t let you keep living in that Motel much longer.” Boone says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the tiny home that now sits behind where Nana’s new house will be. “So, you hate it?”

“No! Thank you so much!” I yell, pulling him into a hug. “You really didn’t have to do this Boonie.” Tears stream down my face as my brother squeezes me. Thank you God for such a good brother.

“I can’t take all the credit, it was Tyler’s idea after all.” Boone whispers to me. I nod, pulling away and wiping the tears off my cheeks.

Lord knows if things were different I’d be running to Tyler and giving him a big ol’ kiss right now. But they aren’t. I remind myself so I settled for just saying “Thank you, Ty.”

“Not a problem.” He says, turning to follow my brother to my now little home.

-

“Please work, come on!” I yell at the shower. My little home was nothing but perfect, well except for the water which always seemed to go out at the most inconvenient times.

I try calling Boone but I’m greeted by his voicemail which only leaves one other person to call. Sighing I pull up his contact and dial. Ignoring the contact picture that I never bothered to change.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um sorry to bother but I can’t reach Boone and my water went out again while I was washing my hair,” I say, already regretting calling him.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He replies, hanging up before I can say anything else. I pull on a bathrobe and tidy up before he gets here. I wince when I see my hair in the mirror, suds still in it but oh well. Tyler’s seen me how the lord made me so I doubt a little bit of suds will make me ugly.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by his knocking and I think as I open the door that maybe I should’ve thrown some clothes on. “Hey,” I say, stepping aside as he makes his way to the water heater closet to check there first.

The minutes pass and the silence is eating me alive. The temptation to say that I was wrong for ending things the way I did consumes me. So much so that I don’t realize he’s talking to me until he comes to stand in front of me.

“Earth to Y/N? It’s fixed. You shouldn’t have any more issues.”

“Thanks Ty. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” I reply, his eyes meeting mine.

“Live your life without fear of me dying everyday because of what I do,” he says, it's clear to me then that the wound is still very much open.

He starts to head for the door but I’m quick to get up and grab his arm, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Ty, I’m sorry. I was wrong, okay? All I did was trade tornadoes for earthquakes. Happiness for misery. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” I say, my eyes searching for his.

“You left me, Y/N. You packed your bags and left without saying a word, leaving all of us behind. So, no, sorry doesn’t cut it here. I’m sorry about your Nana but you made your mistakes. Live with them.” He replies, the anger in his eyes sending chills down my spine. I swallow the lump in my throat long enough for him to walk out and slam the door on his way out. What the fuck did I do and how can I even fix it?

-

** 6 months later **

Nana’s house is finished. It looks similar to the one the tornado tore from the ground but me and Boone know it couldn’t be more different.

We bring in what we could salvage slowly and try to make it look as closely as possible to the original one. Lastly, placing a picture of Nana, Boone, and I, that Lily recovered from the wreckage on the mantel.

“Close enough,” Boone whispers, sitting on the couches that Dani and Dexter got us.

“Yeah, I just wish she was still here.” I reply, sitting across from him. “You going chasing again today?”

“Yeah, but I promise we’re being safe sissy. We don’t do that driving into tornadoes and shooting off fireworks anymore after Nana,” He answers, sadness filling his features.

“Just be safe,” I mutter, taking a seat next to him and letting him pull me into a hug. “Always.”

“For what it’s worth, he’s not really mad at you. He’s mad at himself for not realizing sooner how far gone you were until it was too late.”

A sigh escapes me as he gets up, giving me a faint smile before walking out the door. Off to chase the very thing that took the last bit of family we had.

-

The rain came in buckets. All day it’d been so pretty but as soon as I stepped outside the grocery store, I saw how much the sky had changed. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as lightning struck.

Rushing to my car, I threw the groceries in the back seat but before I could throw the car in reverse I heard it.

The tornado sirens.

I threw open the car door and started sprinting back into the grocery store but a cry for help stopped me before I could make it in. Lord please protect them. I prayed quickly.

Debris was already flying all around me when I turned to look for the source of the pleas and then I spotted her. A girl who looked no more than 15 was on the ground in the parking lot, her leg in a cast and her crutches nowhere to be seen. “Please help me!”

I ran towards her. My body going into overdrive as the wind threatened to push me over too. “Please don’t let me die,” she begged as I threw her arm around me and hurried back for the door.

The wind picked up even more and the rain turned into hail as I trekked through the lot trying to make it back inside. The short distance seemed infinite.

I felt it before I could even turn. It was there. The loud roar filled my ears as I pulled the girl in front of me and with the last of my strength I had, I pushed her to where the door was.

Then my feet left the ground as the tornado sucked me in and I felt the world go black.

-

“Bo-one?” I rasp, my throat on fire and my entire body feeling like it’d been run over. The events leading up to this moment slowly coming back to me as I struggle to open my eyes.

“Hey, he’s just outside talking to the doctor, let me get him,” replies Tyler softly. My eyes adjust to the harsh hospital lights as he steps out the door and taps Boone on the shoulder.

My head pounds as I take in my surroundings. Scratches cover up both my arms. If I looked into a mirror right now I’d probably collapse.

“Sissy! Thank God you’re okay!” Hollers Boone as he comes to my bedside, careful not to hurt me when pulling me to him. “I thought I lost you.”

His tears wetting my hospital gown as I hug him back as best I could. “I’m okay, Boonie.” I whisper in his ear as he sobs.

“Is the girl okay?” I ask, worry filling me up at the thought that she didn’t make it.

“Yes, she made it inside just in time, Sissy. You saved her life.” Boone says, taking my head in his hands and pressing our foreheads together like we did when we were kids.

I close my eyes, nodding and thanking God that we were all okay.

“I need to go sign some paperwork but if you’re feeling up to it, we can take you home today. You got lucky,” Boone tells me while getting up from my hospital bed.

“I’d love nothing more than my bed.” I reply, shooting him a smile as he steps out.

I turn to Tyler who’s been quietly standing in the corner this whole time and I notice his swollen eyes. My heart squeezing at the thought of having worried him and Boone.

“Hey,” I mutter, and his eyes finally meet mine.

“Guess Boone isn’t the only tornado chaser in the family huh,” he jokes, still standing in the corner.

“Guess not,” I reply, chuckling but my throat is so dry that it turns into a cough and he’s rushing to my bedside with a glass of water in hand.

“Thank you,” I manage to say as I chug the water. Instant relief filling my throat. “So, can you fill me in on what happened after I got sucked into the tornado?”

“Uh, well witness accounts are that you pushed the girl inside and then got sucked in. Me and Boone had been chasing the tornado and pulled into the lot as it dissipated.” He stops, taking a seat on the bed and grabbing my hand. “The people in the supermarket started pouring out and screaming that you got sucked in, of course at the time we didn’t know it’d been you. Nevertheless we all started searching and found you passed out on top of a tarp in the baseball field.”

“Oh wow, that’s quite the distance. Saved myself some gas for sure,” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Y/N, you could’ve died. You got out with scratches and a story but you could’ve died,” he says, a somber look on his face.

“Hey, I’m okay. I didn’t die. Nana protected me,” I tell him, tipping his face so his eyes meet mine. “I got a second chance to start over and,” but he cuts me off.

“I love you,” he says, then his lips crash into mine. The kiss knocks the air out of my lungs but as he pulls away, I recover and pull him back to my lips.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are teary but there is no sadness in them anymore. “I’m sorry for walking out on you, if you had died, I don’t know how I could live with myself, knowing how I left things,” he says, his words piercing my heart.

“Hey,” I say softly, “I’m here and I’m okay. I know there’s a lot we need to talk about but I can promise you this, I’m not leaving Oklahoma. Ever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” I whisper, leaning in to meet his lips.

But before we can finish our moment with a kiss Boone is bursting through the door.

-

** One month later **

“Ty! Dinner’s ready!” I holler, and I hear the sound of the shower turning off. Making my way to the living room I stop and pick up my Nana’s picture, thank you for saving me. I think to myself and put it back down.

“Ty! Come on!” I yell, quietly sneaking up the stairs to our room. Glad that Boone’s off with Lily at the fair.

“Coming!” I hear him yell from the bathroom. The towel is wrapped around his waist and drops of water make their way down his abs. Man, I’d sure love to be that towel. I think to myself as I watch from the door crack but am greeted with a smirk when I make my way up to his face.

“Hey darlin’, coming to see the view?” he asks cheekily, turning to me. Busted.

“Well you’re the one who says “if you feel it, chase it,” and I sure am feeling a lot of things right now,” I reply, letting my eyes trail down his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” he replies, coming closer. “Well you better start running.”

I giggle and turn to run but don’t even make it out the room before he’s tackling me to the bed. Dinner is gonna be real cold when we’re done here.

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:28」 — k.soonyoung

» seventeen menu | hoshi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, cat anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for skipping two days in a row. I will be tacking those on at the end of Kinktober just like the others I missed so don’t worry. Jisung’s I just lost track of time and Christian’s fell on game day and I didn’t even realize it. I’ll get them done and added to the end of Kinktober, I promise lol anyway, here is our resident cult leader, Soonie and his tiger agenda. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), heat cycles, rough sex, unprotected sex (just don’t do this. Use protection lol), non-human genitalia (like yunho, Soon’s got a barbed d!ck because cat. Don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idc), scent marking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: baby, kitten, beautiful, etc.; his: babe, Soonie, baby, etc.), I think i got all of them but let me know if I missed any! kinks: heat cycles + rough sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Kwon Soonyoung, I know you're home! Let me in, damn it!”

Soonyoung raised his head as he sat with his back against the door. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there while you stood outside his apartment door, knocking, ringing the bell, demanding to be let in. He'd lost track of how many times he'd almost given.

Almost.

It's not that he didn't want to see you, he did. He wanted to see you more than anything, but he knew if he let you into his apartment, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping you. Especially now that he could smell you.

It was always a rough time for him when he went into heat. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just female animals that went into heat, males also went into heat too and as a weretiger, Soonyoung was no exception. He'd spent most of his formative years dealing with it on his own and for a long time, he avoided being intimate with anyone because of the weird physiological changes to his body.

Unlike many werecreatures, Soonyoung's curse was a generational one and he was not bitten or scratched. His was passed from father to son and inherited by blood. The changes lay dormant until a boy started to go through puberty. By the time he was 18, Soonyoung had gone through just under two hundred and thirty full moon transformations.

And now, at twenty eight years of age, he'd been through over three hundred and fifty transformations. His heat always came the week leading up to the full moon. He was always consumed with an insatiable need to fuck something and he was very good at holding himself back.

Until you came along.

The sweet, caring, and unsuspecting girl who lived across the courtyard from him in the same apartment as him but on the other side of the complex. From his balcony, Soonyoung could see your balcony and the windows that looked into your apartment. 

You kept an assortment of potted plants on your balcony and had installed some sort of netting or mesh to sort of close in the area which made sense because as soon as it went up, he saw an orange tabby cat lounging at the top of a cat tree.

Know you liked cats gave Soonyoung the drive to talk to you the next time he saw you in the courtyard with what he thought was little success but his poorly executed joke still managed to make you laugh and get him your number.

From then on, he was hooked and the moment you invited him over for dinner, he was a goner. One date turned into two and then three and soon, he had the privilege of calling you his girlfriend.

You both maintained separate spaces in the building and he found it kind of cute, his girlfriend living across the courtyard from him. Your cats, which he learned there were actually two, were the sweetest creatures on earth and absolutely adored him. The girl, a white one with orange markings and long fur, was named Pad Thai and the boy, the short hair orange tabby, was named Cheezit. 

Soonyoung had taken to calling them his children and joked with his friends that you had full custody and he got visitations. It was a joke you took in stride and accepted fully, sending silly videos of the cats pretending to use your phone and making silly voices for them, speaking to their dad. It often made his day all that much brighter when he couldn’t come visit you.

Soonyoung had yet to tell you about his condition, only mentioning that he wasn’t like most guys, urging that he wasn’t just saying that and that it was a thousand percent true. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell you exactly how different he was. How does one even go about telling their partner that they’re a weretiger?

It was a conversation Soonyoung knew needed to happen but it just hadn’t yet. Which is why he was stuck in this situation now with you pounding on the door to be let in.

Soonyoung had started telling you that his once a month disappearance was just him coming down with something. He started with the usual excuses, the flu, the cold, stomach flu, even covid but he was starting to run out of excuses. He also hated using illness as an excuse because your immediate response was to offer to bring him medicine and food, usually in the form of soup, stew, or broth. He always gave the same excuse for not opening the door.

He didn’t want to get you sick.

At first, you took it as your boyfriend being cautious and caring but soon, you started to get suspicious and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade much longer. He was going to have to come clean and tell you the truth much sooner rather than later.

A conversation he had been dreading ever since asking you to be his girlfriend.

The wood behind him shook as another series of loud knocks rang out, no doubt you beating your fist against the door. “Kwon Soonyoung!” you shouted. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it might make you leave faster. He felt awful. He hated ignoring you but in his mind, it was for the best when he was in heat. He couldn’t risk scaring you off and losing you.

Another series of knocks shook the door, which was surprising given your somewhat smaller stature. For one so little, you sure were strong. And loud. “Kwon Soonyoung! If you do not open this door right now, we are done!” 

Soonyoung’s eyes opened quickly and he turned his head to look back at the door. ‘She wouldn’t…’ he thought to himself. “I mean it, Soonyoung! If you don’t open this door, consider us through!” Something in your tone made him scramble up to his feet, hastily pulling at the locks separating you from him. He could tell you weren’t kidding.

He kept the chain on, opening the door only a few inches as he looked out into the hall at you. He held his breath as he took in your frame. You’d showered recently, he could smell the scent of your shampoo and body wash, mixing with your natural scent and making his cock twitch in his pants.

On your face was a furious expression and his heart sank immediately. If he had cat ears, this is where they would flatten back against his head in fear. You were terrifying when you were mad. He’d never been on the receiving end of your anger before nor had he really seen it in action.

“H-hey,” he stammered. His eyes dipped down to see the thermos in your hand that no doubt held a homemade soup, stew, or broth of some kind but he couldn’t be sure with how tightly the lid was screwed on nor with how overpowering your scent was.

“Don’t you hey me,” you said, your eyes narrowing at him. “Open the door and let me in.” Soonyoung grimaced. He wanted more than anything to let you in but he knew if he did, there was no telling how he’d react to having you so close when he was aching, burning, to be touched. It wasn’t a good idea on many levels.

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. You scoffed, placing a hand on your hip and looking every bit the sassy girlfriend he knew and loved. “Don’t try that bullshit with me,” you snapped. “I know you aren’t sick,” you added. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as he looked up from the thermos in your hand to meet your hardened gaze. “Wh-what?” he breathed. 

“I spoke to Jihoon,” you started to explain. “He told me the truth.” Soonyoung’s stomach sank as the realization that his best friend had outed him to you. ‘Well fuck,’ he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a talk with Jihoon.

“So let me in. We need to talk.” Soonyoung sighed and closed the door, undoing the chain before pulling the door open for you to enter his apartment. He shut the door behind you and prepared for the storm.

You didn’t unload on him immediately, instead sliding your shoes off and walking towards the kitchen where you set the thermos down. He followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you move around his kitchen, pulling out a bowl and a spoon from their resting places.

You placed the bowl down next to the thermos and unscrewed the lid silently, pouring out a very hearty looking stew. It smelled amazing, the scent of meat, herbs, and potatoes invading his senses. “Jihoon said you aren’t exactly sick. Just that during this time, you don’t feel well,” you said as you finished pouring the hot stew into the bowl, setting the thermos down and pushing the bowl towards your boyfriend, holding out the spoon.

Soonyoung glanced at the spoon and the bowl before looking at you. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” you said leaning over the counter. Soonyoung’s eyes dipped down to your chest, the curve of your breast visible down your shirt from where he stood. “You’re going to take the damn spoon and eat while I talk. Sound good?” 

Soonyoung nodded, moving to sit at the kitchen island and grabbing the spoon from your hand. The moment your skin met, electricity and heat spread throughout his body, the urge to pounce on you from across the counter trying to take the reins but he managed to push it down and simply started eating.

You watched him take a few bites before speaking.

“I know you’re a weretiger,” you said softly, drawing his attention as he looked up at you, his mouth full of bits of beef and potatoes. “Jihoon told me everything. I will admit I’m a little shocked you didn’t tell me all of this but I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject to bring up so I’ll give you a pass there,” you explained. “That being said, I wish you would have just told me the truth. Did you think I would judge you? Did you think I would leave or break up with you?” 

Soonyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. “I didn’t know what to expect, actually,” he answered truthfully. “I was less scared about you finding out about me being a weretiger and more scared that I—” he hesitated, looking down at his bowl of food. You followed his gaze. “Finish eating,” you told him. “I have more to say anyway.

By the time Soonyoung had finished his bowl of stew and ate another at your insistence, you were sitting on the couch, Soonyoung resting over your legs as he hugged around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest as he purred happily. You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp with your finger tips.

“This is nice,” you said softly as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Mhm,” Soonyoung hummed. Silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes before you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a question that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Soonie,” you said softly, gently tugging at his hair. “Hmm?” he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. “Can I ask you what you meant earlier about being scared?” You felt him stiffen under your touch before he finally lifted his head, looking up at you. “Wh-what about it?” he asked.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead, cupping his cheek at the same time. “What are you scared of, babe?” Soonyoung took a deep breath before pulling himself up to sit. “I’m scared of frightening you,” he finally answered, glancing at your hand before reaching over to take it in his.

“Of frightening me? How would you frighten me?” you asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Soonyoung looked down at your joined hands before speaking. “You know how when we’re intimate?” he asked softly, not looking up as you nodded. “Yes,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Well, when the week of the full moon approaches, I start to… change,” he continued.

“My body starts to change.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as your smile spread. “Is this about your heat?” you asked nonchalantly. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Y-you know about that?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, your smile only growing. “You think I’m going to learn that my boyfriend is a weretiger and not look up what all of that entails? I know everything, baby. Your heat, your transformation cycle, all of it. I also know your curse is familial and not transferred by bites or scratches. Jihoon told me that part though,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair back again.

“And I already know what happens to your cock, so there’s no need to explain that to me.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened comically. “I learned that on my own by reading. Jihoon did not inform me of that part,” you added, reaching up to bop the end of his nose with the tip of your finger. “I know all about the sexual changes, the heat cycle, the penile spines, copulation, all of it. I know everything.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed, alarmed, or relieved. He felt a mixture of all three as he sat there on his couch with you. “Do you also know about the insatiable urge I have to be buried inside you whenever you’re around?” he asked, noticing how your eyes widened slightly. “No,” you answered softly before a smirk started to form.

“But now I do.”

Soonyoung could feel heat creeping up his neck towards his face at the same time heat settled in the pit of his stomach. A new smell invaded his nostrils. The smell of arousal but it wasn’t his own. He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “Can you smell me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, the smirk still present on your face. He nodded slowly, holding your gaze.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs slightly. Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent hit him stronger. He could feel his cock painfully hard in his pants. “Baby,” Soonyoung said softly as a shiver ran up his spine, that insatiable need to bury his cock inside your warm cunt starting to take over. “If you don’t stop me,” he continued, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll…” he trailed off as your hands moved, sliding down your body. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, swallowing thickly as his eyes followed your hands. “Maybe that’s what I want,” you said softly. “Maybe I want you to pounce on me.”

Soonyoung turned his head, averting his gaze as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. He felt the couch move and then your hand under his chin, turning his head to face you. “Don’t look away from me,” you said in a low voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I promise you won’t,” you replied, leaning into his touch.

“I want you to let it take control. You need this,” you continued, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs, pressing his fingers against your cloth covered crotch. “Pin me down, Soonie. Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Soonyoung let out a sound between a moan and a growl as he closed the distance,  the hand on your cheek sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You moaned as he pushed you back onto the couch, pinning you down with his weight alone. 

You could feel his erection in his pants press against you, rutting slightly. “I don’t think I can wait,” he murmured against your lips, hands moving to pull at your shorts. “Then don’t,” you urged as he pulled back, fingers working to undo the tie of your shorts. He made quick work of them, pulling them and your panties off. “Shirt off,” he grumbled as he pulled his own off.

You watched him instead as he undid his pants. He glanced up at you. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his hands stilling. “I’m watching you,” you replied. “He glanced down at your shirt. “Shirt. Off,” he repeated. “What?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “You heard me,” Soonyoung growled as he stared you down. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

You let out a giggle before complying, pulling your shirt off as he resumed undoing his pants and pushing them down, kicking them off before leaning over you, lips kissing a path up your chest to your neck. “Turn over,” he whispered in your ear.

You did as he asked, rolling over onto your stomach as he leaned over your back. You felt him rub his cheek against your shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle. “Marking you,” he replied simply. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he grabbed one of the pillows and guided you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you.

With your hips raised, he guided the head of his cock to your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip before starting to push into you with a guttural moan. You gasped as he stretched you, the spines on his cock creating a rough but not entirely unpleasant texture as he bottomed out.

“Oh shit,” you gasped as he pulled back, the spikes raking your walls slightly. He thrusted into you harshly and you cried out. Soonyoung leaned over your back, covering your mouth with his hand. “The neighbors will complain, kitten,” he whispered in your ear. “You have to be quiet.”

He gave you another harsh thrust, slamming into you roughly as he set a brutal and unrelenting pace. “Is it too much?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head, biting into your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. You couldn’t hold back when you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he panted as he pounded into you.

“S’okay,” you gasped, walls spasming around him as he send you hurtling towards your orgasm which hit you, the strength making your legs shake as he continued to fuck you through it. “Are you okay?” he groaned as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. You nodded in response. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “I’m – ah! – M’fine — oh god, Soonyoung!”

A second orgasm washed over you and still he kept thrusting, not showing any signs of slowing down. You knew by the end of it you were going to be a bruised, panting, sticky mess but you couldn’t be bothered to care now that he wasn’t holding back and showing you a new side to him you’d never experienced. As he sent you toppling over the edge of your third orgasm, he finally came without warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder again as his load exploded inside you, painting your walls in his sticky white essence.

“Fuck!” he growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing wet kissing against your skin. “Didn’t mean to yell in your ear.” You merely chuckled as you shook your head. “It’s fine, babe,” you replied. “Was I too rough?” he asked suddenly and again you answered with a shake of your head. “No,” you answered. “That was great. In fact,” you said as you lifted your head.

“I’m coming over more often to help with your heat if it means you’ll fuck me like that.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[mimikittysblog]

♡21:40♡

Pairing: Poly! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Super duper fluffy

Warnings: some mxm, pet names, reader is very sick

A/N: Hope you guys like this as much as you like the texts 🥺💕 tho ngl the ending is a bit meh. Anyways likes, replies and reblogs are so appreciated!

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you wanna be tagged in my next poly ateez story, texts or not then please let me know!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

You were sick.

Like very sick.

You had been for a while and you really thought it would just go away after some time and with a few cups of good tea. However it was just one of those times where it didn’t and it lead to where you were now.

Flopped on the couch after a long days of work so sick, tired and weak to the point you didn’t even take off your shoes, let alone take a shower.

You knew you should’ve taken the day off and even more so you should’ve informed your lovely 8 boyfriends of your condition. However it was so busy for not only you but your boys this time of year. Your job really needed you around and the boys had to be on their A game.

Not like they weren’t always were. Those boys are so admirable when it comes to their work ethic and determination. It’s one of the things you love about them. It’s just this time of year is when they really have NO room to slack off. So you didn’t have the heart to tell them.

You barely see them around anyway, as they come home late and you leave early. You couldn’t bare the thought of them having to deal with you when they’re already so busy with work, no doubt dealing with so much pressure and stress. Even though deep down you knew they wouldn’t care and would drop anything to make sure you’re okay.

‘Cause you would do the exact same thing.

About an hour after you practically passed out on the couch, Yunho and San arrived home.

Thankfully they were able to get all the work they needed to get done super quick today, so they got home much earlier than usual. As they walked into the living room thats when Yunho spotted you.

He chuckled at how cutely you looked and then pointed you out to San who awed at you. They thought you just got home too and decided to close your eyes for a bit.

“Princess we’re home.” Yunho called sweetly.

“Come on now silly butt, get up so we can shower together.” San said with a big smile at the thought of relaxing under the shower with his lovers.

However you didn’t respond.

They both pouted and furrowed their eyebrows as they got closer. You were asleep? That’s quite unlike you. They knew how much you love a refreshing shower after work then to change into one of their hoodies. Were you that tired?

“..sweetheart?” Yunho said as he crouched down next to the couch. He softly moved your hair out of your face to check up on you.

Just from that very soft touch alone he was able to tell how hot your skin was. His eyes widened and as he looked at San with worry.

“Baby you’re sick??” He asked surprised as he looked back at you wondering how he and the rest had no idea.

“What?” San questioned softly as he crouched next to Yunho.

He then places the back of his hand properly on your forehead. His eyes also then widened with worry as there was no denying it.

You were incredibly sick.

Their hearts clenched at how they truly had no clue how sick you were, how much you needed them and how you didn’t tell them..

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Yunho: Guys. Come home. Now.

Seonghwa: what why? What’s the matter?

San: Princess is sick. She has such a high fever and from the sound of her breathing her nose is stuffed. She’s literally passed out on the couch rn and god knows what other sicknesses she’s having.

Wooyoung: WHAT?! She didn’t tell us anything! 🥺

Yunho: I know and at this point that doesn’t matter rn. She needs us. Hurry.

After they sent the texts to the rest of them they quickly got to work.

As Yunho picked you up softly and carried you to bed, San prepared a small basin filled with cold water and some towels. As Yunho was undressing you, San brought in the basin and they both started cleaning you as softly as they could.

Truly not long after they started, they heard the front door open and peeked in Jongho, Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

“How bad is it..?” Jongho asked as he softly entered the room with the rest.

“..bad..” Yunho muttered.

Seonghwa then carefully approached you and placed his hand on your forehead too and almost gasped.

“She’s burning up.. Oh God our poor princess..” he said as he softly ran his hand through your hair.

Wooyoung then approached Yunho with a hoodie from their closet and your shorts.

“Thank you love.” Yunho said softly as he gave Wooyoung a kiss on the head and started dressing you as soon as San was sure you were dry.

“Seonghwa hyung and I are gonna go make her some soup. Yeosang is already on his way home, Hongjoong hyung and Mingi are going as fast as they can to finish recording. They’ll be home soon..” He mumbled to the two who arrived home first.

“Okay.. I’ll go help you cook too, you two will watch over her?” San asked

“Yeah of course.” Jongho confirmed as he sat down next to you and softly stroked your hair.

Yunho then nodded as he gave wooyoung another kiss and sent him on his way.

“You’ve eaten Yunho?” Seonghwa asked.

“Uh.. no not yet hyung. We got take out but we haven’t eaten it yet...” Yunho explained as his eyes trailed back down to you.

“Hmm alright.. I’ll make Sannie eat then once he’s done you can eat and San will watch over.” Seonghwa said as he reached over to grab his hand.

“Alright hyung.. thank you..”

“Of course.”

With that he gave yunho’s hand a comforting squeeze then gave jongho a sweet pat on the head before leaving to join the others in the kitchen.

“Could she really not tell us she was this sick..?” Jongho asked softly still stroking your hair.

“I.. don’t know.. we’ll ask her when she’s awake and feeling better.” Yunho replied as he sat down on the bed as well softly holding your hand.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

As they continued to watch over you, after a while they heard the front door open and some muttering. Soon the door to the room opened again revealing Yeosang.

“Oh princess… she looks so pale..” He muttered as he made his way to her. “Has she not woken up yet?” He asked as he stood beside Jongho.

“No.. we should just let her rest before we wake her up to eat.” Jongho replied.

“Hmm. I bought some medicine on my way home.. Hopefully they’re enough.. if not we can take her to a doctor…” Yeosang informs the two boys as he placed the medicine on a nearby table.

“Thank you Sangie..” Yunho said before continuing to ask if the soup is ready. And right on cue, Wooyoung popped his head in again.

“Soups ready. And yunho baby, Hyung wants you to eat now.” He said.

The lovers in the room then nodded.

As softly as he possibly could, Yunho began to wake you up.

“Princess.. princess.. wake up please..? We need you to eat and take some medicine…” He said oh so softly with some extra soft shakes.

“Baby..? Baaaabbyy..” Yeosang also called out to you.

Your eyes soon started to flutter open as you take in your surroundings. You however closed them again quickly as the headache in your head began.

“Ugh..” you groaned

“Oh baby what is it..? Your head hurts..?” Jongho who was still stroking your hair asked.

You could only nod.

“Honey bun.. do you think you can get up..? You need to eat..” Wooyoung asked

Slowly you opened your eyes again and finally realized your sweet boyfriends were home.

“Wait.. you guys are home? So early..” You muttered, voice so hoarse it made everyone frown.

“Yes we are sweetie.. we’ll talk about that later.. now we should get some yummy food in that belly okay..? Do you think you can get up..?” Yunho replied then asked.

Your head was still pounding and as much as you wanted to try, you knew its best to just stay, so you softly shook your head.

“Okay I’ll tell hyung, come Yunho you still need to eat.” Wooyoung then said as he retreated back to the kitchen.

Yunho didn’t really have an appetite after seeing how sick you were and he wanted nothing more than to just stay and make sure you’re okay. However he knows his boyfriends and even you will scold him if he doesn’t eat. So with that he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and got up to go eat.

“I’ll be right back okay..? Jongie and Sangie will be right here.. Eat well darling.” He said to you before leaving.

You could only nod back before looking back at your boyfriends.

“When did you guys get home..?” You asked

“Yunho hyung and San hyung got home first and found you.. told us and then I, Wooyoung hyung and Seonghwa hyung quickly got home after that. They just finished cooking your soup.” Jongho explained.

“Hmm I just got home, and I’m pretty sure Mingi and Hongjoong hyung will be home any minute.” Yeosang added.

You then hummed before Seonghwa and San came into the room carrying a tray of a big bowl of soup and some of your favorite tea.

“Hi our darling..” Seonghwa greets you as San puts down the tray in your lap softly.

You weakly smiled at them and began to open your mouth to greet them however Yeosang cut you off.

“Shhh.. don’t talk to much pumpkin.. your voice sounds so hoarse… your throat must be very scratchy and painful hmm..?”

With a soft sigh you nodded.

“Okay then.. lets get some food in you okay? Can I feed you?” San asked

You made some gestures indicating that you could do it yourself however they weren’t having it.

“Let us take care of you. You’re extremely sick okay? Your pouting game will not work tonight honey.” Jongho said

Of course you were outnumbered so you just sighed and opened your mouth to let San feed you as the rest began preparing your medicine.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Once your bowl of soup was almost empty, the front door was opened and the footsteps of the last two can be heard. Said two as quickly as they entered the house, quickly entered your room guilt, concern and sadness evident in their faces.

“Oh princess…” Mingi said as he walked closer

“Baby.. oh you finished your food, good girl. Medicine?” Hongjoong praised then asked with a pet to your head.

“Right here.” Seonghwa said as he gave you the medicine to drink.

Wordlessly you took the medicine and drank some of your tea.

“Okay.. good… How are you feeling now darling?” Hongjoong asks.

“..better..” you said as softly as you could so you wouldn’t harm your throat even more.

“Thats great love..” Mingi said.

Soon the last two that were missing from your bedroom entered again and were pleased to see you finished your food as well. Now all of your boyfriends were here and sitting somewhere in your bedroom.

“Sweetheart..” Seonghwa started as he sat beside you holding your hand. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling so well..? You’re so sick.. this must’ve been going on for a while… and none of us had a clue?”

You took a deep breath before carefully replying, being mindful of your throat. “We were so busy… I.. didn’t want to distract you… a-and I thought It’d get better on its own..”

“You still should’ve told us princess.. you know we would’ve taken some time off to help you get better… and you should’ve taken time off yourself.” Yunho chimed in.

“I didn’t think you could afford to spare some time… and my job needed me..” You pouted looking down playing with seonghwa’s fingers.

“Darling… you hurt us… do you not know we’d stop time for you if we could? You know we literally would do anything for you… We 100% would’ve figured out a way to make sure our work still gets done and be able to take care of you… like we always do. I’m sure you know that..” Mingi said.

You looked up at him to see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. As you looked around, you see sincerity in all their eyes.

“I do… I just.. I don’t know… I just really didn’t want to be a bother. I don’t want you guys to be more stressed than you already are and if I caused you guys to fall behind th-“ You were cut off by Wooyoung shushing you.

“Nope. No. You would never be the reason for that. We would never blame you and you know we would reprimand anyone who thinks that. Sweetheart. You’re our precious girlfriend… you would never be a bother to us.” Wooyoung said full of reassurance.

“Baby… We understand. You wanted us to do well and you were worried for us and wouldn’t want to add more stress or something. However like everyone here has said. You’re no burden. No trouble. And especially no bother. We love you and want you healthy and happy alright?” Hongjoong said as he stroked your hair.

You all looked at them and softly nodded. Heart filled with love and you give them a smile that they find so precious.

“Alright. Now please promise us you’ll tell us if you’re sick? Even if it’s just the tiniest cough or sneeze, you’ll still let us know? And yes we’ll promise to do the same.” Seonghwa asked.

“Promise. Now all of you cuddle me to sleep please?” You said with a pout and arms out.

Everyone then let out a soft chuckle and nodded.

With that, they got to work to cleaning up your dishes as San scooped you up and carried you to the master bedroom where that room is specifically for big cuddle sessions. and other stuff 👀

San tucked you in as he got in beside you. Soon enough loud footsteps can be heard as a couple of them (Wooyoung, Yunho, Mingi and Seonghwa) were racing to be on the other side of you. Which ended up going to Jongho as he slipped in while the others were still fighting by the door.

Eventually all of them got into a comfortable position.

“I love you all so much.” You mumbled softly into the darkness.

“We love you too our love.” Mingi said softly.

“Get some rest.” Said Yeosang.

“Tomorrow we’ll make you an even better soup!” Wooyoung then exclaimed loudly.

“Sleeeeppp!” Jongho groaned.

With that you all kinda giggled with each other a little bit longer than you would like. Making sleep not as easy but you all really wouldn’t have it any other way.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

[ihavethedreamies]

Easy | Felix | Easy to Expert (1)

Lee Yongbok (Felix - Stray Kιds)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5k

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Biting, One Singular Spank, He Gets a Bit Rough, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Don't do what they do.)

Summary: In which you can't normally get off and Felix doesn't like this one bit.

Author's Note: Imagine trying to write something like this with a straight face because you are at your uncle's house in the living room with everyone else there and you can't go anywhere else...

Also your friend's name is Yuna here and she's not a reference to any idol or anything, this was just the name that came to mind.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Part 2 <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"He had the stamina of a work horse; I thought I was going to die."

"Really?" You weren't convinced.

"No, seriously. I had never came that many times in one session." Your friend shook her head and you blinked. You watched her take a swig of beer and you took another bite of chicken.

"You started without us?" Someone whined behind you, and you turned to see Jisung and Minho coming up to your table. The younger man pouted as he sat down in the empty chair next to you while Minho sat on his other side.

"You guys are half an hour late." Yuna sneered at them, waving a drumstick aggressively.

"Where's everyone else?" you asked.

"Seungmin can't make it, Jeongin is sick. Chan and Changbin are on their way from the studio. Felix and Hyunjin just left campus after dance practice." Minho listed off, waving his hand up to get the auntie's attention to get beer.

"Is Jinnie going to shower first? Poor thing looks like he fell in a pond after dance practice." Yuna bounced a bit as she talked since the waitress brought over the order of Tteokbokki you had ordered.

"That's why they're late." Jisung spoke around a mouthful.

"Anyway, he ended up breaking up with me because I apparently wasn't enough for his libido." Yuna continued her story despite the fact two of the boys had arrived and Chan and Changbin were arriving.

"Woah, what?" Chan laughed setting his bag down next to her and the other man sat across from Minho.

"Is this the same guy who said he wished he had two dicks to fuck twice as much?" Changbin asked as you watched his shirt tighten over his chest as he took his jacket off. Everything he wore was so tight…You were taken out of your zone-out when he scoffed, "My eyes are up here (Y/N)." Everyone laughed at you and your face tingled a bit, you took a sip of beer not meeting his eyes.

"Wait, what?" Chan asked again and Yuna rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I think he was possessed by a sex demon or something, geez."

"Who are we talking about?" The oldest man asked. Yuna then recapped everything she had told you to Chan who stared blankly at her the whole time.

"Okay, way more than I ever needed to know." He shook his head and grabbed his chopsticks.

"You don't even know the half of it." Changbin huffed and the other girl gasped dramatically.

"You asked me to tell you most of it!"

"Not everything! I really didn't care about who you did everything with first, that was a long ass list."

"A list of asses?" Minho seemed to tune in at a very specific time.

"Do I want to know?" A new voice groaned as Hyunjin sat at the end of the table. Felix came around to the other end near you and took a seat.

"Yuna is sharing WAY too much again." Jisung's eyes got big to emphasize his point.

"Well, this started because (Y/N)-"

"NO!" You almost leaped across the table to shut her up. That unfortunately made the boys all the more curious and it was getting steadily louder as they urged you to share. If not but to spare the rest of the patrons and workers, you finally relented.

"I just told her that I didn't see too much point in rushing into sex in a relationship because I don't get much out of it." You didn't look at anyone, just cast a glare at Yuna, then back at your beer bottle.

"Well, you need to find someone else then." Minho told you matter-of-factly.

"It doesn’t matter, and it's not like partners haven't tried…I just can't…I-I can't finish…" You mumbled the last part, and it went deathly silent. You could feel the eyes on you but for some reason, the ones to your left were burning. Glancing up to meet Felix's stare, you're startled by his expression. He looked…intense. You shifted under his gaze. He knew you liked him, and you knew he liked you, but not much had come of it. You two kissed briefly a few weeks ago but it was interrupted, and it hadn’t happened since.

"Wait, seriously? Have you ever?" Chan asked, he had stopped eating. This was serious to him.

"Yeah, but it took forever. I had to do it myself and it wasn't easy." You shrugged. Because of this fact you hadn't had very many sexual encounters or partners. It’s just frustrating when nothing ever came of it.

"So that's when I told her that my last boyfriend might be able to do it since he got me off like six times at once." Yuna explained as she shoved more food in her mouth.

"Did you ex ever do it?" Jisung asked and you nodded.

"Once." That wasn't why you had broken up; he had moved away for work and long distance didn't work too well so you drifted apart.

"Have I ever told you guys about my college roommate's girlfriend?" Hyunjin cut in and quickly everyone was diverted over to his story of the fact that this girl was not loyal by any means. And neither was her boyfriend. Unfortunately for Hyunjin, he was both of their type and he ended up having to switch rooms. The night continued and as more food was eaten, more alcohol was consumed. The rowdiness became too much, and you were more or less kicked out. Yuna was drunk and Changbin promised to get her home in one piece, so he left with her on his back. Chan, Jisung, and Hyunjin followed suit since they all were going to the same place, and you were left with Minho and Felix.

"I'll walk her home. Go check on Jeongin, he might be asleep already but he's not texting back." Felix told the older man who nodded and said goodbye so you two were left alone. You had only one beer that night and Felix didn't even finish his, so you were not even tipsy.

"I-I can get home okay, I didn't drink much." You tried to wave him off.

"It’s okay. Just because you're sober doesn't mean I should let you go alone." He smiled softly and you internally gushed over how pretty he was.

"Thanks." Beginning to head in the opposite direction of everyone else, you two walked in silence for most of the time, but it was companionable. In your head you just kept replaying the small kiss from a few weeks before, not really sure why you were looping on it. When you got to your building, you expected him to leave you at the door, but he opened the door for you and led you toward the elevator.

"D-Do you want to come in? I have some cheesecake left that I can't finish on my own…" You couldn't meet his gaze as you waited for the elevator.

"Sure, thanks." His deep voice was so warming, and you wondered what it would sound like whispering in your ear. You shook your head to clear the thought and got in the lift to get to your floor. Keying in your pin code, the door chimed, and you let him into your apartment. You lived alone and so your place had some clutter about. You hung your coat and bag up, changed to slippers, then moved to clear the papers and pens off the couch. After moving the stuff into a more organized pile on the coffee table, you stood and turned to go to the kitchen, but instead ran into Felix's chest. He was wearing a grey turtleneck that was way tighter than you though it would be on him. His sleeves were already rolled up to his elbows and his hand moved to steady you when you stumbled in surprise at his proximity. Compared to other men, he wasn't very tall, but he was still quite a bit taller than you. When the hands that steadied you moved from your arms to your waist, you were pulled to him even closer. Your breath hitched and your hands instinctually gripped the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders. When your eyes met, he leaned in and as his lips hovered over yours, his deep voice rumbled through you.

"Can I?"

"Y-yes." Your hands moved to rest closer to his neck and he kissed you. This one was different than before. Last time was chaste and soft, but this was growing heated fast. Felix tilted his head more and licked at your bottom lip prompting you to open your mouth. You moaned softly as his tongue invaded your mouth and when he groaned back it was like thunder shook you. Reluctantly, you let him pull away so you both could take a breather.

"Was what you said true? You really can't cum?"

"M-most of the time." It was embarrassing to talk about it in front of everyone, but for some reason it seemed like Felix took it personally.

"Hm. If you let me, I might be able to help." He leaned down some to say this right into your ear, then he sucked on your ear lobe. You shuddered and tilted your head to let him get better access to your neck. He laid searing kisses along your skin, and you swallowed hard.

"O-okay." You were a bit reluctant since it hadn't worked well before. At the same time, he was turning you on way faster than anyone or anything else before. You were not blind, or deaf, he was incredibly attractive, and you would be stupid to say no. Felix's lips pulled into a smile against your throat and he sucked on that spot hard, his teeth digging in slightly. You moaned louder than you meant to, and he could feel your throat vibrate as you did. Not realizing he could pull you closer, when he did you felt him hard against your stomach. His lips moved from your neck, which now had at least three bruises on it, back to your mouth and he dominated the kiss, taking complete control. Finally, to gain more oxygen, he pulled away from you and your head was swimming. He could sense that you were dazed, so he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, carrying you to your room. Setting you down at the end of your bed, he kneeled before you, the look on his face shocked you. You were expecting a fire there, lust, but it was so warm and soft, and you weren't sure how to react.

"I'm doing this because I like you so much. I hate that no one's made you feel good like you deserve. But at the same time…" The hand on your waist dug into your flesh and his expression sharpened, "I want to be able to say I'm the only one that can say he did. Easy." His confession made your walls clench around nothing.

"Will you let me?" Felix asked.

"Of…of course. I like you too-" He cut you off with another devouring kiss and his hands wandered under your sweater and helped you take it off. If you had known this was going to happen, you wouldn't have worn such a plain set of underwear. As the make-out session continued he also removed your socks and pants and he finally pulled back to take his own clothes off. You watched with rapt attention as his turtleneck came off, and…damn. Felix was way more ripped than you thought he would be. Not quite to the level of Chan or Changbin…You were even more enthralled as he took his belt off and undid his jeans to let them fall. His hard cock was straining against the black fabric of his tight briefs, but he left them on as he kneeled before you again. He stood as high as he could on his knees, making him eye level with you.

"Can I?" He reached around your back, and you nodded so he could unhook your plain nude bra. As he took it off, he gently bumped his forehead against yours and flashed a smile.

"You're so pretty." He cooed and you huffed, looking away in embarrassment.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." You mumbled and he giggled. Felix laid a soft kiss on your lips then began to move down. To your neck, collarbone, sternum, then down your right breast where he latched his mouth around your nipple. You exhaled and let him do what he wanted. He didn't garner much of a reaction, but it felt better than it normally did. He hummed in thought and then he laved his tongue around the peak of your breast, then his teeth slightly dug in, and you gasped. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smile, and he sucked hard on your nipple again and your skin tingled. Goosebumps rose on your arms, and he pulled away with a pop and moved to do the same to the other side. Your breathing was getting a bit heavier and as he pulled away from your chest, he pressed his hand on your sternum, telling you to lay back. You did so and as you did; he straight up bit your left breast on the swell of the flesh. This pulled a surprised moan from you, and he smirked, pulling back.

"You left a mark!" You scoffed and he laughed, "You're going to end up with a lot more, love." You gaped at him and before you could answer, his mouth was back on you, kissing over your ribs. You sighed and he moved down to your belly button, then licked a path up to under your breasts. His actions heated your skin, and he moved back down to the waistband of your panties.

"You okay with this?" His fingers had slipped under the fabric to run along your butt, his face close to your covered pussy. He could smell your arousal already and couldn't wait to bury his tongue inside you.

"Yes. How about I tell you if I'm not and you just do whatever you want." You finally told him. You loved that he asked and made sure, but you just wanted him to keep going.

"Whatever I want?" He whispered to himself, and his intense gaze met yours.

"Are you sure, love?"

"Y-yes." You felt like a small furry creature about to be devoured by a tiger.

"Hm." He smirked and his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, dragging you to the end of the bed. Felix pressed his face into your covered cunt and licked at your clit through the fabric. You twitched a bit, but not enough for his liking. He clicked his tongue and instead of pulling your panties off, he tore them off. The side hem was fraying a bit and it allowed him to rip the fabric and he tossed the remnant away. You would have complained if it was a nicer pair. The display of strength was incredibly attractive. Once again, Felix's hands gripped your ass, hauling you closer and immediately shoved his tongue into your cunt. You exhaled harshly, laying back. It was if he was a man lost in the desert and you an oasis. He was practically drinking from you, devouring you. His nose bumped your clit as his tongue reached as deep as he could get it. You grunted slightly, surprised at how good it felt. He noticed that every time the tip of his nose hit your button that you flinched very slightly. Removing his face from between your legs for a moment, he took his thumbs and spread you open, and you squealed. It was embarrassing, but you didn't say anything, so he kept going, smirking as you covered your face. Licking another stripe from your core to your clit, he sealed his lips around the little bud and sucked as hard as he could. Your hips jumped slightly, and your breathing picked up, but it wasn't enough yet. Furrowing his brow, he pulled back again, tipping his head. If he wasn't doing what he was it would have been rather cute. He had one more trick up his sleeve. He took his thumb once again and rubbed a circle over your clit to see how you reacted. Glancing up he pushed harder against it to fully expose it, then he leaned forward to suck again. It was a stronger feeling than before and it made your hips jump again but then he did something unexpected, he placed your clit between his teeth and bit down a bit.

"Fuck!" You twitched hard, he wrapped his arm around your hips to hold them down, then he sucked again and gave another little nibble.

"F-Felix-" You gasped, and you were getting close. It was a different feeling than even the few times before. As he abused your poor little clit, he quickly inserted two fingers in your rapidly wetting cunt. This made you gasp again, and he could feel how tight you would be, but he was figuring out you needed a little bit of pain. Once more, he nibbled down, and at the same time he crooked his fingers up hard against your sweet spot and you fell apart. You saw white, you had never felt anything to that extent before. You had slammed your hand over your mouth, but he could still hear you nearly scream out a moan and he smiled cockily; your pussy walls clenched hard around his fingers and cum spurted out of your cunt. He held your hips down, feeling the muscles twitch and spasm. It seemed like it lasted forever and when you finally came down, you were panting hard. He kneeled straighter, pulling his fingers out of you, and noted that you had draped your arm over your eyes, and he couldn't tell if there were tears or sweat flowing down your cheeks. As he stood, Felix licked his fingers clean, and he kneeled over you some and pried your arm from your face. You looked dazed, and he still couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears.

"You did so good, love." He stroked the hairs back that were stuck to your forehead.

"How the actual fuck did you do that?" You gaped and he guffawed.

"It seems you like it to hurt a bit?"

"Hurt? It didn’t?" You seemed genuinely confused. Were you really that insensitive? With how tight your cunt was around his fingers he thought for sure it would have stung a bit. Most of the time getting bit somewhere that tender would hurt some even if it felt good.

"Interesting…" He thought for a second then looked back down at you.

"Do you wanna keep going?" Felix brushed a drop of the moisture from your cheek and you glanced at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" He huffed at that.

"You look like you just ran a marathon."

"Felix, if you can make me come, I'm going to let you do it as many times as possible." You deadpanned and his shocked expression softened, and he hummed. He bent over and kissed your forehead gently. His hand grabbed yours and he brought your knuckles to his lips so he could press another kiss there.

"(Y/N), I just want you to know, that I really like you, and I want to just hold you and love you all night." He admitted and your heart began to thud.

"But I think what you need is to be fucked senseless." His voice deepened even further, and his gaze sharpened. Your heart raced even more, and it seemed he was waiting for permission.

"Oh, god, please." You said quickly and he chuckled.

"Scoot up." He kissed your hand once more then let go and he got off the bed, letting you do as he requested. He went and turned your lamp on and shut the big overhead light off. He came over as you pulled your nightstand drawer open to make sure you did have condoms and that they weren't expired.

"What's this?" He had stopped next to you as you grabbed the box and his hand reached in a grabbed something else.

"Oh, uh-" Before you could answer he opened the box. He knew what it was before he asked. Inside there was a series of sex toys and it seemed none of them could do the trick. Bullet vibrator, one looked like a rose with suction, there was a rabbit vibrator, but the one that shocked him the most was the butt plug. It vibrated too and the plastic still hadn't been taken off of the box.

"Woah." He teased, pulling it out and you groaned.

"Haven't tried it?"

"I…Nothing else worked so I figured it was worth a try but I got nervous…"

"Hmm." He was thinking something, and you weren't sure you liked the look on his face.

"Another time." He shook his head and dropped it back in the box and put it in the drawer again and took the condom box from you.

"Hm." He hummed again and you shot him a look.

"What?"

"Have you tried anything with like ribbing or whatever?"

"Yes…didn't do jack. Even did the ones with like warming lube and stuff."

"…I have an idea but only if you're okay with it?"

"What?"

"I know it’s good to be double sure, but you're on the pill, yeah?"

"Yes."

"It seems you have trouble feeling stuff there, you would probably feel more without this." He rattled the box. He had a point, the only reason you used both was for security.

"We can get the morning after thing if you want-"

"That's fine." He seemed to know what he was doing, and you weren't overly worried about it.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Felix." You assured and he nodded, dropping the box back into the drawer, "They're the wrong size anyway." He muttered that to himself, but you caught it. Closing the drawer, he crawled back onto the bed and kneeled at your feet, then cast you a look. You nodded and he pulled your knees apart and for some reason it was still embarrassing even though his tongue had literally been inside you. You were neither a virgin nor a prude, but for some reason, since it was Felix, it felt different.

"Relax, love." He smiled, pressing his lips to yours again and his tongue slipped into your mouth. You whined when he pulled back and he chuckled, then maneuvered and removed his underwear and threw them somewhere.

"Fuck." You whined and you wanted him in your mouth.

"This is about you, love, not me." He pinched your nose, able to tell what you were thinking from the expression on your face.

"Fine." You pouted and his fingers went back to your cunt and gathered the wetness there and you watched as he stroked himself to get ready. What the fuck was he fed that despite his small size his cock was that big? Whatever it was also probably made his voice as deep as it was as well.

"Ready? I'm going to be rough with you." He warned, his sharp gaze rehardened, the softness still there underneath.

"Please." You let him just grab you, he spread your legs open wide, a slight burn in your hamstrings. There was very little time between the head of his cock meeting your cunt and him burying all the way to the hilt. It took your breath away and he grunted at how tight your hot core felt around him. He had honestly never had sex without a condom before either. After being inside your wet heat with no barrier, he didn't think he could ever do anything but, especially since he planned on being with you longer than he consciously realized. You were shivering at the sensation, his hot flesh searing through you, spreading you open so much so instantly. It stung some but it felt better than any other time and you weren't sure if it was because he was fucking you raw or that he was that big. You didn't even want to know how much bigger Chan supposedly was. He contemplated letting you get used to him, but Felix was losing control fast, and it seemed like you liked it rough. His hands on your thighs spreading them open gripped the flesh, easily swinging your legs up so he folded you in half, your knees at your ears.

"Hold on, love." Using his dancing skills, he snapped his hips as hard as he could, and your next orgasm hit you. If you whited out before, you practically blacked out that time. It was like water rushed over your head, your rapid pulse thudding in your ears, your blood audibly racing. He grunted and you could barely hear it through the ringing in your ears and he dug his fingers hard into the flesh of your thighs to hold back his own orgasm. Your walls were hugging his cock so tight, and you were practically gushing around him. He hoped that he had pulled some kind of seal off of you, and that he could get you to fall apart over and over and over. He wanted to be the one that could say he fucked you stupid and that no one could ever finish you simply because they weren't him. His ego shot through the roof, and he wanted to ruin you. When he first thought of going through with this, the plan was to show you how much he loved you, what you meant to him. But he had no idea what you liked and what would finally get you off. If you needed rough, he would do it. Looping his thoughts to keep distracted from the vice of your cunt, he finally felt you relax, and you nearly went boneless, your legs in his grip losing all strength. You were heaving for air again, not sure which way was up or down, how old you were, or even your own name. All you could think of was Felix.

"No!" You yiped as he pulled out, but he rolled you over onto your stomach, hauled your hips up, your face buried in the pillow and he buried his cock back into your needy pussy, making you white knuckled the sheets. He began a truly relentless pace, and it was the best thing anyone had ever done to you.

"You like my cock, love?"

"Fuck, yes!" You managed to get out, each thrust made you silently scream, forming words became nearly impossible. Maybe the fact that he got you to orgasm allowed you to be more sensitive; then maybe because you had tried for so hard for so long with no success, your body could finally let go. Felix had the key to not only your heart, it seemed, but your cunt as well.

Leaning forward, he gripped the frame of your bed for leverage and kept his thrusts just as hard but extremely shallow. The fat head of his cock beat against your back walls so hard that you were sure they would forever be molded to only him. You felt another climax rising and your own hands scrambled to grip the wooden rods of your bed frame as well.

"F-Felix!" You managed to get out and you watched one of his hands leave the frame above you, and he smacked your right ass cheek and upper thigh hard, and you fell over the edge again. This time, he couldn't hold back either, and he fucked as deep into you as he could and filled your womb with his cum. That sensation made your climax flare to max again even though it had begun to dissipate, and your fluttering canal helped him ride out his own orgasm. You thanked the Lord birth control existed because you never wanted him to cum anywhere but inside after that. As you both caught your breath, he slowly pulled out of you and the adrenaline left you and now you were sore. Your clit, your pussy, where he had smacked you, everything. You didn't think you would be able to walk tomorrow. When he had fully withdrew, your hips slumped down and you flopped flat onto the bed, not able to move.

"Hold on, love." He leaned over you and kissed your hot cheek, covered in tears from the intensity of what he just reeked on you. You felt him wipe your used cunt off with a towel and you whined when he moved you to pull the blanket out from under you. He made a note to remove the comforter before fucking you on the bed again, because he sure was planning on doing it again.

"You're fine, pretty girl." He chuckled and crawled into bed with you. He shut the lamp off and the room was cast in shadow before your eyes got used to the dull light of the streetlights behind the curtain. Getting settled, he saw you had laid on your side already, the only way you could fall asleep. Smiling he curled around you, wiggling his arm under your head and wrapped his other around your middle. He rested his hand on your tummy, holding you close. He had to be careful, your cute little butt pressed against his now-covered groin was enough on its own to get him riled back up. The arm under your head bent so his hand could rest on your forehead, and he kissed the back of your head.

"Goodnight, love." Felix hugged you as close as possible, loving being your big spoon.

"I won’t be able to walk tomorrow." You mumbled and buried his nose in your hair and smiled smugly.

"If you can I won’t have done my job right."

"Thank you, 'Lix."

"Of course, sweet." Another kiss to your head.

"Go to sleep. I'll take care of you tomorrow. And every day after that you'll have me." His deep but quiet voice rumbled next to your ear, and you linked your fingers with his on the hand on your stomach.

"I'll have you always, Felix."

"Good, because you're stuck with me now."

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

archives l Javier Peña

Summary:  you shouldn't have met him there

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, swearing, sex without protection (don’t do that!),

A/N: I don't have much to say. I'll just leave this here. please be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

"Shit!"

You cursed quietly as the cardboard box you were trying to take off slipped out of your hands and fell to the archive floor, spilling its contents. Folders with carelessly written names, scattered pages of typescript, photos - all of this now lay under your feet.

You had been sitting in this dark and musty room for almost an hour, trying to find the documents you needed. But the number of shelves and bookcases made this place a real labyrinth. Your eyes slid over the names and places that the files lying on the floor referred to - still not that one.

Another dark alley didn’t look inviting, but you had no other choice. You strained your eyes when suddenly you heard a strange movement, and then a voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"A lonely woman in a place like this." someone tsk-tsked approaching you "I guess they don't teach you anything in this office, do they?"

You sighed with relief when you saw the familiar face of a man leaning against the shelf next to you.

"Javier. You shouldn't be sneaking around like that." you hissed. "What are you doing here anyway? It's late."

"I had some paperwork." he replied, his dark eyes shamelessly gliding over your figure. "I saw you left your stuff. I thought I'd look for you."

"Mhm. For what purpose?"

You saw the tip of his tongue as he licked his lips with it. "I haven't seen you in a while." he noted.

"I'm here all the time." you mumbled and averted your gaze to the shelves in front of you. Although you could see the letters that formed the descriptions of individual boxes, you didn't understand anything from them. The room suddenly seemed even more stuffy to you.

"I haven't seen you at my place." he clarified.

Something tightened your insides. You knew perfectly well what Javier meant. You knew it all too well…

For the past few months, you and Javier Peña had a certain relationship. It all started after one of the more brutal arrests. You were both stressed and overstimulated, and then something snapped and without knowing how you ended up in Javier's apartment fucking him on the couch.

No. You knew exactly how you ended up there. You weren't drunk, and neither was he. But then you had a few drinks and felt terrible guilt. Javier absolved you, and showed up at your place a few days later. And you fucked again, this time in your bed.

It was just sex. 

To get rid of the pressure and stress. And Peña had a lot of it in him. Sometimes it was rough and strong, sometimes he used the time to play with you, like a predator before devouring its prey. But you didn't complain.

Only when you noticed that you were waiting for the familiar knock on the door, that you were searching for him with your eyes in the office, that you were sensitive to the sound of his voice - that made you think.

That's when you backed off. "This is the last time." You told him as you put on your panties. "I met someone. He's a nice guy. He works at the embassy." Javier snorted. He didn't believe that you could leave him. Not when his cum was still dripping down your thigh. But you left his apartment, the door closed, and that was it.

He saw you with that guy. Once in one of the bars. And he knew that you saw him too. That evening, for the first time in a long time, he took a hooker home. But she wasn't you.

You became his obsession. You were within arm's reach, and yet he couldn't touch you. And then he realized that it hadn't been just about sex for a long time.

He could see that you were confused. Your fingers were nervously tapping some rhythm on one of the shelves, your eyes were avoiding his.

"We talked about it." You finally answered.

"Yeah, I know. You have someone." Javier snorted "A nice guy from the embassy. Did you tell him about us?"

"There was no 'us'."

"So you didn't." A smirk spread under his mustache, and you felt like punching him in the face. "You're a naughty girl."

"Oh, stop it!" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don't act like a kid who lost a toy. You have plenty of them!"

Peña tilted his head, watching you carefully, processing your words. There was something hypnotizing about him. You saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his chest heaving with his steady breath. His eyes, dark as night, were still watching you, and you were slowly afraid to move.

Finally, you were the first to speak. "Listen, I don't know what you've got in mind, but I'm not going to get into this. I'm in a healthy relationship with a cool guy, you're not going to interrogate me now."

"A happy relationship?"

"W-What?" you stuttered, surprised.

"I'm asking if it's a happy relationship." Javier raised his eyebrows slightly, repeating his question, "You know, satisfying. Exciting. Arousing."

He said each word in a way that hit all your senses at once.

"A healthy one." You repeated, and he smiled again.

He took a few lazy steps toward you, his fingers sliding over the boxes on the shelves.

"So you're not getting wet just thinking about him?" his voice lowered and you felt warmth creeping up your neck "Don't you feel that pleasant shiver when he's close? Does he know what he has to do to make you come in just a few minutes? How long did it take us, hermosa? Four, or five?"

"You're an asshole, Peña!" you hissed.

"I am." he shrugged "But you felt good with me, didn't you? You were in my bed like that lazy kitten stretching in the sheets. Your thighs covered in hickeys. You had chaff instead of brains from how many times I let you come."

Every word he said struck those chords inside you that made your legs go numb. Peña was a devil in human skin and he decided to possess you. He was so close that you could smell the remnants of his cologne and cigarettes. This must have been what hell looked like. You were damned.

"I'm happy, Javier." you said quietly "He treats me well."

Warm fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, running over your warm cheeks to your chin.

"That's good." he mumbled. "If he treated you badly I would have to kill him, cariño. But was I bad to you? Tell me."

Finally you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly. Javier wanted to kiss you right then, but he held back.

"So you tell me how you treated me, Javier." you said. "Who was I to you? A pussy on two legs that you had whenever you wanted?"

"That's funny." he laughed quietly. "You don't say anything about the evenings when you came to visit me." you swallowed loudly. "You were so horny then. So unsatisfied. You let me do such things to you..."

"Shut up!"

A sly smile appeared on his face again. You were already in a losing position. But suddenly Javier softened.

"Do you love him?"

"Please."

"Do you?"

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, it is. You see, baby, if someone asked me if I loved you..." your heart stopped beating for a moment, you listened to his words with horror "...I'd tell him to fuck off." You couldn't help but snort, and Javier smiled but didn't stop talking "But if I asked myself, do you know what I'd answer? I'd say you're a thorn in my side. You've dug yourself under my skin. You've made yourself at home in my heart. I'm pissed off when I see you with him. And when I think of him fucking you..."

His hands tightened on your hips. You were so stunned by his words that you didn't protest when he pulled you closer.

"Tell me that if I slip my hand into your panties, I won't feel how wet you are. This pussy knows she’s only mine. And I want you, all of you."

"Javier, please..." your lips brushed against his.

"What are you asking for, cariño? I'll do anything for you. Just tell me."

Tears pressed into your eyes. His words filled your head, reaching for everything you didn't want to feel. Fear followed right behind the desire, how much Javier had imprinted himself on your heart.

"Don't destroy me, Javier." You whispered as the first tear rolled down your cheek. "I couldn't be just your girl for one night anymore. It was killing me... The thought of never owning you."

"I've been just yours for a long time, hermosa. And I'll never stop being."

His lips crashed against yours so hard that you could barely catch your breath.

Your fingers slid into his hair as you pressed yourself even closer to him. God! You missed him so much. It was torture to work with Peña in the same place, when looking at him you remembered how his head was between your legs giving you orgasm after orgasm.

And now his tongue was deep in your mouth again, his hand tightened on your breast, but your moan was drowned out.

You felt the shelf behind you, and Javier's body pressed you against it hard, spreading your legs with his thigh. The hard bulge in his pants rubbed against you, making you feel hot in your core.

His lips slid down your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin. Your blouse and  bra were pulled up to free your breasts. Hot lips sucked on your nipple. You rolled your hips to feel the friction, something to give you relief, because you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Javier overwhelmed your senses, and your body begged for him intensely.

"Just as I thought." he mumbled as your breast slipped from his lips and his hand dug into your panties. "You're wet. So juicy, hermosa. Just for me."

"Please, Javier, I want to feel you." you stuttered with difficulty.

You could see in his eyes that he was already on the edge. He was barely holding himself back from destroying you right now, in a second. But as your hands began to unbuckle his belt, he began to pull up your skirt.

"I want to feel that tight pussy again." he panted as he grabbed your thigh tightly and rested it on his hip, opening you up for him. "You were rude to take her away from me, you know? I was starving to taste her again." he pushed your panties aside and his fingers ran over your folds "Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to ruin this beautiful pussy, hermosa."

"I want you, Javi." you whispered "I'm only yours."

"That's right. Only mine."

With one quick thrust, his hard cock slid inside you. You moaned loudly at the sudden stretch. Javir pushed himself all the way to the base, filling you up like only he could. You were pinned to the shelf behind you by his body, but you didn't mind.

Peña began to move hard. His hand gripped your thigh, and the other helped you stabilize. With each subsequent thrust, you felt like he was going deeper. His lips found yours, but they were just kisses stealing your precious breath.

"Fuck, you take me so well. You're made for me, baby." he panted as he pressed his face against your cheek "I want you all to myself again, to fuck you the way you like. To hear you scream my name until - shit - I fill you to the brim. You like that, don't you? You love the way my cum leaks out of you."

"I... I didn't let him." you replied, tightening your fingers in his hair "He never... I never let him cum inside me. Only you, Javi... Only you."

"Fuck! I knew it!" he kissed you hard, his movements quickening.

You couldn't pretend anymore. You were on the edge, and Javier wanted to push you off with great pleasure. His cock moved inside you, hitting the spot you needed.

"Cum for me, cariño! I want to feel you. I want to feel that pussy squeeze me. Shit! I’ve got you, baby!"

An animalistic moan escaped your throat, your nails digging into his shoulder. But Javier didn't feel any pain. He only felt you, saw only you. He saw your body trembling with the pleasure he gave you. Now his thrusts were stronger, but he didn't need much to come.

"Fuck, you're only mine. Only mine." he panted, hiding his face near your neck as his seed poured inside you.

You felt a twitch as he spurted the last drops, and then he stopped. This small space was filled only by your breath. You felt the sweat running down your back, Javier's hot body. And then he pulled out, leaving you strangely empty.

You adjusted your clothes as he buttoned his pants, and after a moment you felt warm hands cupping your face, his lips finding yours again. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, gently. Like a lover, not the man who had just fucked you in your office archives. Although maybe it was the same thing.

He rested his forehead against yours leaving you in a sweet distraction "I don't want you to slip away from me again." he whispered "Never again."

"I won't do that." you replied "I'll always be a thorn in your side."

"The sexiest I know."

He kissed you again and you knew what you had to do. You were scared but you knew that together you would do it. And after this all you had was each other.

And that was good.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[megamindsecretlair]

Yall I can’t stop thinking bout Fontaine. Like quiet but nasty ass freak deek Fontaine. Who’s obsessed with his lil shy (secretly equally nasty) gf and her glasses.

Fontaine has a need to cum on her glasses literally anytime she gives him head.

It plays in his head every time she finds herself on her knees for him. But he’s too scared it’ll be too much for reader. Till one day (completely incidental) it happens

Corruption kink go brrrrrr. My mind ain’t took it no further than that quite yet but the fundamentals are set up 😭

Anyway ♥️ freak deek Fontaine 😩

A/N: I see ya'll with these asks! Forgive me for combining them.

You Already Know

Pairing: Fontaine x Glasses!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, oral (male receiving) all consensual. Apologies to those with peanut allergies, lactose intolerant, or just don't like milk.

Summary: See asks.

Word Count: 2,974k

AO3 Link

A/N: John has got to STOP with all these workout vids and pics. He is TEWW fine. Please enjoy the brainrot with me!!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by commenting, reblogging, or leaving an unhinged ask.

“What you doin,’ baby?” Fontaine asked when he freshened up after being outside all day and night. He came home roughly twenty minutes ago, smelling like outside. He gave you a quick kiss and made a beeline to the shower because he knew that you liked him most when he smelled clean and fresh.

Silly man. You’d suck his dick even if he was filthy and outside all day. You’d bend over if he walked in the house, covered in God knew what, and told you to assume the position. You just weren’t always good at expressing that.

You looked up from the couch to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against his arm. He wore a black tank and black basketball shorts, tattoos on full display and his mouth gleaming with those gold grills you love so much. You sighed as you stared, taking in his physique and his stance. 

“Just watching a movie,” you said, fixing your glasses to get a better look at him. It was either smudges in the way or your body was starting to overheat looking at that hunk of man. It still blew your mind. You got to kiss and claim that man any time you wanted.

“What you watchin’? You hungry?” He asked. He straightened up and rubbed his stomach. He’d been hitting the gym a lot more lately, needing to bulk up to deal with his enemies out in the streets. Your one rule with him was that he always came home. No matter what he had to do. 

“I’m okay,” you said. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had been sitting here, enjoying your day off doing absolutely fuckin’ nothing, and was perfectly fine. The minute Fontaine walked in, you’d had an entire ache in your lower belly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked.

You hummed to yourself and then looked at the clock beneath the TV. You paused the movie, since you weren’t watching, and hummed some more.

“That’s too long. I’ma make us some sandwiches,” he said. 

You called after him but he was already heading down the hall to the kitchen. You heard the cabinets and drawers banging around as he went to work. What was it with men and sandwiches? You giggled and shook your head, trying to lay back down and still be comfortable with your glasses on. 

Maybe you ought to switch to contacts. Just once, you’d like to be able to lay on your side and still see the TV. You hummed and thought it over. Naw, Fontaine seemed completely against the idea of contacts. He liked your glasses and you happened to like them too. But still. 

A few minutes later, Fontaine came into the room carrying two plates with sandwiches and cups of milk. Well, yours could be classified as a sandwich. His was some kind of tower. He had multiple layers of peanut butter sticking out from between his bread slices. You shook your head at him as he placed the cups down on the wooden coffee table.

“Thank you, baby. I will never know where you put all that,” you said. You sat up on the couch and the blue and pink plaid throw blanket slid to your lap. You put your cold feet on the ground. Even after being under the covers all day, your feet were still icy. 

Fontaine leaned down and kissed your forehead, making you tingle all over. Then, he sat on the couch beside you and handed you your plate. Extra peanut butter, just as you liked it. You took a big bite and moaned at the taste. It’d been too long since you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Right down the hatch, my love. What you watchin’?” He asked.

You told him you were watching Damsel on Netflix, told him who was in it, and a brief synopsis. “But what you feel like watching?” You asked. 

“Naw, put that on,” he said. He chewed and you watched the way his jaw flexed. Your boyfriend was so serious all the time. Oftentimes quiet. That was initially what drew you to him in the first place. So few men were quiet. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your man was more into Black cinema or action movies. Something like this, starring the little white girl from Stranger Things, was not on his list of must sees. 

“I’m sure. C’mon. I just wanna snuggle with my girl,” he said. He glanced at you and his eyes softened. 

You grinned, cheeks hurting with the effort. You bumped your shoulder to his and then kissed his massive shoulder. You took a tiny hint of his scent. Crisp mountain air. You also got to admire his body up close.

The absolutely disgusting, filthy, animalistic things you wanted to do to this man. He had no clue. Sadly, because you started stuttering and mumbling whenever you began thinking of all of your dirty fantasies. Let alone try to tell him about it so he could do those things to you.

“You know I always wanna snuggle with you. But we can turn it off whenever you want,” you said.

He took a huge bite out of his sandwich, already halfway done and you’d only taken a few bites. He licked his lips, licking away peanut butter that you desperately wanted to do for him. 

“Naw, how far you get?” He asked. He licked his thumb and used his clean fingers to toggle the remote and show the remaining time. You were only fifteen minutes into it. You kept pausing to listen to the shower, to see how long he was going to take. 

“You mind running it back?” He asked.

You shook your head and then lapsed into comfortable silence with your man. You started the movie over and scooted back on the couch.  

Fontaine finished his in about three bites, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He spread his arms around the arm and back of the couch, man spreading and bumping your knee with his. You finished your sandwich a lot slower, enjoying the feel of him next to you. 

Everywhere he touched, just lit up another dirty fantasy in your mind. Taking him in your mouth, taking him from behind. Or him tying you up and having his way with you. The possibilities were endless. 

You had to finish sometime, so you polished off the last bite and chased it with the rest of the milk. You smacked your lips and stretched. Fontaine grabbed your shoulders and you squeaked.

“Fontaine!” You said and tapped his arm. He chuckled and grabbed you anyway, pulling you to lay against him. 

“My bad, baby,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You pushed your glasses back up your nose and kissed his chin. He grinned and kissed your temple. You settled back against him, getting lost into the movie. Angela Bassett always looked damn good. Just radiant and glowing all the time. You admired seeing a Black woman in a fantasy gown, when Fontaine shifted.

Wordlessly, you followed his lead, standing up so that he could stretch out on the couch. He pulled you by the hand to lay next to him and you giggled softly. Once you were in front of him, you pulled the throw blanket over both of your legs. 

He shook out his right foot with a groan and then both you nudged and pushed until you were both comfortable. You focused back on the movie, loving how pretty it was. 

Throughout the movie, Fontaine was more into it than you were. He was asking you questions. He knew you didn’t like to spoil but you got a thrill whenever he was genuinely into your little movie. 

You sighed and adjusted yourself on the couch, pushing your ass into his dick. A low groan escaped him and he put his hand on your hip to keep you from moving. But you felt that bulge on your ass. You adjusted again, intentionally rubbing your ass. He groaned again, putting more strength behind his grip and stilling your movements.

“Alright, now,” he said.

You giggled and adjusted your glasses, adjusting yourself one more time. He started to growl and you giggled again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said. 

Fontaine hummed and slipped his hand under your pajama shirt. This was something new he started a few months ago, randomly slipping his hand underneath and grabbing your titty like a stress ball or something. He tried to pull it away then but you told him to keep it there, testing the waters. 

Fontaine only kissed behind your ear and had been slipping his hand underneath ever since. Mostly it wasn’t sexual, he just liked warming his hand underneath your titties. But other times….like now…Fontaine’s fingers found your nipples and he began to play with them. Rolling them between his fingers. Pinching.

You bit your lip, biting back the lewd moan that wanted to escape your throat. Your pussy throbbed. Pulsating at each tug of his fingers. You adjusted against his crotch, rubbing your ass against him.

He moaned but otherwise made no other sound acknowledging what you were doing. He continued to tug and rub, making you clench your thighs and rub them together. He moved his lips to your ear, letting you hear his breathing. His quiet moans. That tiny whimper. 

The movie swam in your vision. You were having trouble relaxing with Fontaine’s hands on you. His large arms around you. The heaviness of him. Your essence leaked out of you thinking of him on top. 

You continued to dry hump on him. Way more than what was necessary. You whimpered yourself, rubbing your ass against his growing hardness. Fontaine rolled your earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. 

You whimpered more. Fontaine moved his fingers from your nipples, down your smooth stomach, and then slipped beneath your shorts and underwear. His fingers teased through your pussy lips, growling when he found you wet. 

The second his finger touched your clit, you finally moaned and pushed back into his dick. “Aw, my poor needy, baby,” he cooed in your ear. 

“‘Taine,” you moaned. 

“Watch the movie,” he said.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Watch the movie,” he said again, slowing his fingers. He dragged them lazily through your wet folds and you shivered in his touch.

You focused on the TV, focused on the middle of the movie where things were starting to look up for the main character. But Fontaine’s fingers were starting to pick up again, gathering up all your wet slick, making it echo in the tiny living room. 

Smacking noises grew louder as Fontaine played with your pussy. Your orgasm was always just out of reach. Every time you got close, when you started whimpering, grabbing hold of his wrist, he’d pull his fingers back and play with a different area.

Over and over, he got you close to the peak and then withdrew right before your orgasm took over. You were a whimpering mess, no longer caring about the damn movie. “‘Taine, please,” you moaned.

Fontaine stuck his thumb in your mouth, his massive arm coming around your neck and squeezing. You sucked and whimpered around his thumb, wrapping your lips and sucking hard like you wanted to do to his dick. 

Fontaine moved his fingers faster, harder, flicking against your clit with all your slickness. You were so wet. So loud. You whimpered and cried, opening your mouth further to moan and move your hips. 

“Look at that ass go,” Fontaine said in your ear. “You ain’t as innocent as you claim, huh?” He asked.

You nodded. You were innocent. But this mind of yours? Oh, it was always on demon time. You passed time thinking of sex with your man. Thinking of him bending you over in inappropriate places and threatening anybody that looked. You daydreamed of him pulling your hair while giving lethal backshots. 

He plunged his fingers into your pussy, pushing two deep. You cried out, but willingly accepted his fingers. “Oh, god,” you moaned while your orgasm rushed through you like a rapid river. You were a leaf, pulled along the current.

You whined and moaned, a crying, loud sound. You trapped his hand between your legs. Your body was out of your control, shaking and twitching. Fuck, you couldn’t even breathe. 

You sucked in air as you finally came down and your pussy stopped spasming. Your thighs relaxed and Fontaine slipped his fingers out with a deep hum. He made sure all five of his fingers grazed your sensitive clit on his way out. You twitched and moaned.

Fontaine’s chuckle was low and deep as he licked his fingers. “Get on them knees for me, baby,” he said.

You nodded. Not an ounce of strength in your body but you managed to slide off of the couch. Fontaine sat up and opened his legs on either side of you. You scooted in between, rubbing his thighs and biting your lips. 

“Fuck, you look sexy like this,” he said. He pulled his underwear off and slid them down his thighs. You didn’t want to wait that long. You leaned down and took his dick in your hands, wrapping it around his base.

He groaned and looked at you. “Do what you did yesterday,” he said and licked his lips. 

Your pussy clenched and you scooted closer. You got low to his tip and watched him as you kissed his tip. He bit his lip and moaned, jutting his hips out. 

You took him into your mouth and sucked on him like a lollipop. You slobbered and slurped it up, rolling your tongue around his tip. “Fuuuck,” he groaned. 

He kept moving his hands. Either they were clenched, or he was cracking his knuckles, or he crossed his arms. You watched his face, fighting to keep his eyes open. But also fighting something else? Was he okay?

You took his dick out and used your hands to get his shaft wet. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Fontaine nodded. “That mouth of yours,” he panted. 

You giggled. “You can put your hands on me, you know,” you said quietly, not quite looking at his face anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded, looking towards what you were doing to his dick. He stilled your hands. “Aye, look at me and use your words,” he demanded.

You looked at him. Looked at how serious he was. “Yes, I’m sure,” you said. 

Fontaine grinned. Now, isn’t that better?”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me all the time,” you said. 

Fontaine tilted his head. He moved his hand to caress your cheek. “Okay, but only if you tell me when I do something you don’t like,” he said. 

You nodded and grinned at him. “Then put that dick back in your mouth,” he said, tilting his head down and narrowing his eyes.

You squeaked and went back to work, slapping your lips with his dick. He groaned and moved his hips again. You spat on his dick and then sucked it back down, bobbing your head. You were done with teasing. You put your hands on his thighs for structure and then set a good pace.

Fontaine’s hands gripped your jaw and pulled you down faster, pushing his dick deeper. You slobbered on him, feeling it drip down your chin and hit your shirt. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you hummed at the salty taste of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Fuck, that’s good. Suck that shit,” he moaned. 

Your eyes were locked to each other as he used your mouth. As he pumped your head up and down on his long, thick dick. You moaned as he forgot to be gentle, slipped past some barrier in his mind, as he shoved your mouth down.

Your pussy throbbed painfully. Aching with emptiness as your mouth got to enjoy his dick. Your jaw hurt a little but you kept going, kept matching his energy. He hit the back of your throat and you almost gagged. He pulled your head back but his dick jumped at the sounds you were making. You spit on his dick, licked your lips, and then suckled him back down. You let him go with a wet pop and then started pumping him with your hand while you sucked one ball into your mouth. 

“I’m finna bust,” he groaned. You kept going, kept stroking him down so that when he was close, you could suck it down like usual. But he was already trying to slow you down. 

Fontaine moaned and came all over your face. Most of it got on your glasses and you shrieked in surprise. It was warm, splashing your face in random spots. On your forehead, probably in your hair, and on your chin. 

Fontaine’s moan was cut short as he panted. “Shit, I’m sorry!” 

You blinked at him, staring at him through the cum sliding down the frames. The closest drop was right at the corner of your mouth. The cum turned cold fast, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You stuck your tongue out and licked his cum from your face.

You moaned, trying to lick up more. Fontaine groaned and you turned back to him. You took off your glasses and threw it on the couch. You smiled sweetly at him as you cleaned up the cum on the tip of his dick.

“Clean it up real good,” he demanded, leaning back into the couch.

You nodded. “Yes, baby,” you said. You sucked him down and he groaned, his hands going back to your head and pushing you down on his dick.

 “Just wait ‘till it’s my turn, baby,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

The end.

You already know! The Secret Tyrone Files

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