#anyways this one is silly and much more light-hearted than the other one i have lol bUT WHATEVER TIS FUN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nightfiilms · 6 days ago

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— is it casual now?

summary: in which you and sevika have been hooking up for months!

content warnings: nsfw, 18+, MDNI, smut, reader!giving, reader!receiving, strap-ons, tribbing, biting, fingering, face-riding, choking.

a/n: first fic kinda nervous…

You’d made plans a week ago to meet tonight, but Sevika had proven busier than usual, following the loss of her previous partner, so the two of you didn’t really talk much about it beforehand. But that didn’t stop you from showing up to her apartment at your usual time. You use the key she put in your coat pocket a few months ago, saying that she wants you to be able to walk in without her knowing, she likes the surprise, though, you always showed up on schedule anyways.

When you walked in, you immediately realize that she’s not inside. You assume that she’s out on business and let yourself in anyways. It’s a place you’ve spent countless nights and countless mornings in, cuddled up under her body or sitting on her counter as she cooked you breakfast. She usually keeps the place quite neat, everything in its place, but you can tell that the woman has been pretty busy. Her shoes are not neatly lined on the wall like they usually are, the empty glasses on the table, the unfolded blanket on the ground.

You know that you’re going to wait for her, so instead of sitting mindlessly on her bed, you pick up the living room and wash the dishes in the sink. It feels silly, but you know that if it were you, you’d appreciate the help. It takes you less than half an hour to finish everything and then you take yourself to her bedroom, deciding to just sit until she came back.

It only takes about another 15 minutes before you hear her front door open. Your heart immediately starts to race, you try to hide the giddy grin on your face but you can’t. You always look forward to these nights with her.

You hear her drop something onto the ground and her footsteps head in your direction, it makes you squirm, you can’t wait to see her face. Even in the dim light of her apartment, you can still see the outline of the smirk on her face when she spots you lounging, like it’s your own.

“Didn’t know if you’d show.” She says, her voice is hoarse and you notice that her once missing arm, is replaced with a newer, bigger one. You want to ask about it, but you want her to come over to you more.

“I always show.” You reply, crossing your legs, knowing it’ll avert her eyes down.

It does.

You like when she looks at you, watches you. You like it more when she’s touching you, but you also like the wait, the anticipation.

Sevika takes a step closer before pulling her jacket off, throwing in to the side. You can feel her from here, just her presence alone can get a reaction out of you. You lift your hand and wave her closer, you want nothing more than to feel her hand on your skin, but you also know control.

Sometimes Sevika is quick and to the point, and other times she makes it agonizingly slow to the point of suffocation. Tonight seems to be the latter. She walks to you slowly, her eyes glazing over your body as you rest on her bed, waiting for her. When she reaches you, your hand slowly wraps around her thigh, the muscle tightening under your touch. Her hand slowly finds its way into your hair and now you have no choice but to angle your head up to look at her.

“How long were you waiting?” Her voice is low, tired, and so so so sexy.

“You know what time I come,” You smile, “Don’t act like you don’t.” It makes Sevika smirk again, you want to kiss it off of her.

“Hm.” Her head tilts as she looks you up and down again, you’re drowning under her gaze, feeling yourself ready to give it all over right now. “Can you wait a little longer?I had a long day, I needa shower.” It almost sounds regretful, like she’d rather be here with you right now than doing anything else.

You sigh, “I think I can manage.”

Sevika leans in close, her lips inches from yours. “Don’t pout, love, I’m all yours tonight.”

She’s gone before you can even process the words, you were too intoxicated by the feel of her hand in your hair that you couldn’t think straight. You were always like this around her, you couldn’t help it, she just knew how to turn you on without even really doing anything.

You don’t really know how long you’ve been seeing Sevika, you lost count how many nights you spent with her tongue on your skin. You didn’t venture outside of silly, playful dynamic you already had going on, but when you went home, you always stripped in front of your mirror and traced every bruise, bite mark, and hickey you could find. You loved looking at them, feeling them, remembering them. You loved that she marked you, that she felt like you were hers and she could claim you like that.

You didn’t know whether or not Sevika thought about you outside of this bedroom, but sometimes, when it’s been a little longer that you haven’t seen each other, you notice that she grips a little harder, kisses a little longer, and holds just a little tighter.

Which could mean nothing.

You lay down while you wait for her, listening to the sound of the water running from the other room. You think about going in there, stripping down to nothing and climbing in there with her. You imagine the look on her face, shock mixed with intrigue. You can picture her grabbing you up and pinning you against the wall, the warm water hitting your face as she sucks on your neck. But then you remember her saying that she had a long day and you let her have a moment of peace in the shower.

The room is dark when the water turns off and you’re feeling impatient. It doesn’t help when Sevika walks out with nothing but a towel, squeezing the excess water from her hair. She’s completely bare and beautiful and you feel your fingers tremble with desire.

She comes to you immediately, climbing into bed, hovering over you. You can smell her, it’s some earthy, deep scent that you can’t place, but god, does it smell divine. She leans in and presses her lips to yours. Sevika kisses like she fights, angry and hungry for more, rough and without thought. Her body feels like heaven on top of yours, it’s soft but you know it’s seen the worst of Zaun, which only makes you want to touch her more. She’s not gentle with you, she’s not gentle with much in her life, but she handles you differently. Like she’s knows that you’re gentle, and she’s okay with that.

She dips her body down, her breasts touching your chest, you suddenly wish that you were naked as well, craving the skin to skin that the two of you are so used to.

Your hand reaches up and takes a fistful of her hair, deepening the kiss so she knows that you’re ready. Sevika gets the hint, pressing her knee between your legs as she kisses harder. You can’t help but gasp, your other hand instinctively grabbing at her skin. The second your nails dig into her non-mechanical arm, she bites down on your bottom lip, pulling another small gasp.

“You’re wearin’ too much.” Sevika mutters against your lips, and you couldn’t agree more. It only takes you a few seconds to strip off all your clothes, leaving you just as bare as she is. Her hand is cold when it touches your stomach and you flinch under it, but she grabs you, pulling you on top as she flips over onto her back. This is your favorite position, you love being on top of her, looking in her eyes as she comes undone underneath you.

The two of you fall into the groove easily, you know each other’s bodies too well, too intimately. You could say with confidence that nobody knows your body the way that she does, no one can make you feel how she does, no one can make you finish as quickly as she does. She’s too perfect, too good, too delicious, you want to go down but you already know her rule. She always finishes last.

So you let her pull you back into her mouth, licking in hungrily, your chests finally touching in all its rawness. You grind down, letting out of moan into her open mouth. You know what turns her on, you know how to get her started. Her hands grip your hips and the movement starts out slow but the more you feel yourself on her, the faster and harder it gets. You thrust yourself on her over and over again, quick and untamed. You can feel her fingers gripping your hips but it doesn’t matter that they’ll be a bruise there later. Sevika has always gotten off on you getting off, and when you let out a greedy moan, you can hear her breathing pick up. She’s watching you with hungry eyes.

“Fuck, Sevika…” You groan softly, slowing your pace, you don’t want to cum yet, you’ve been waiting all week for this, it’s going to last longer than a few minutes.

“Tell me what you want.” She whispers, her breath on your neck.

“Touch me, please.” You push her hand down and she gets with the program quickly, her fingers working their way into you with a swift movement. You let out a deep moan, your head falling back as you begin to move your hips, riding her fingers. It’s slow, you let yourself feel her inside of you as she thrusts her fingers in and out of you.

With her new arm, that you’ll ask her about later, she grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward so you’re face to face with her. She’s looking at you hungrily, like she needs you just as much as you need her right now. Your eyes are locked as you begin to shake, knowing what’s about to come. Your mouth falls open and a breathy moan spills from your lips. Sevika doesn’t waste any time before sticking her tongue in your mouth, a twin moan she tries to hide.

You love this, her noises that you imagine only you can bring out of her. The two of you breathe heavily against each other for a moment before you crack a smile, “I didn’t want to cum so quickly.”

Sevika smirks, “Don’t worry, it won’t be the last time tonight.”

You can’t help but surge forward, pulling her into a kiss and wrapping your arms around her neck. She’s gorgeous in this light, the softest you’ve ever seen her. You want to feel her in your mouth, every part of her.

So you do.

You start at her neck, kissing, biting, licking, leaving the same marks that she never lets you leave without. Then you move down to her chest, kissing here and here and here until you finally suck a nipple into your mouth. You’ve tasted Sevika before, but never like this. You’ve never been in control, and the fact that Sevika is relinquishing it so easily, submitting without hesitation makes you burn hot. You didn’t expect her head to fall back with a moan as you flicked your tongue, you never expected to see her like this underneath you.

So you go down farther and farther, kissing her everywhere, leaving dark marks in places you’ll see the next time you see her. The sight of Sevika opening her legs, inviting you in, is absolutely breathtaking.

On your knees, Sevika spread out in front of you, and the deep hunger inside of you, you don’t even hesitate to lick her open. Your hands grip her thighs as her back begins to arch. You look up only to see her eyes squeezing shut as she bites down on her bottom lip.

Her hips rise and fall, she wants more and you’re are more than willing to provide. You use your fingers as a companion to your tongue, she gasps when you slide them in. You want to hear her, for her to let go of her bottom lip and let it all out.

Her face shoots up when you stop, you meet her gaze, “I want to hear you, Sev.” You mutter, loving the taste of her on your lips, knowing that she can see herself on your mouth. God, she’s ravishing. A sight so unlike anything you have ever seen before. You want to devour her.

She grits her teeth and grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing you back down. You get back to work instantly, and this time, you go in with both at the same time, releasing a gorgeous moan from her lips. It’s untamed and loud. You’ve never heard anything that made you feel the way that did. If you are undoing Sevika now, then what are you already? It’s more than that. You are rendered useless with her. She has undone you so many times that you don’t even know what it feels like to be whole unless you’re with her.

It’s stupid, but it’s true.

You don’t know how long you go for, it doesn’t matter, you’d go forever if it meant you’d hear her moan your name as her legs shake. You go until she’s dripping down your chin and she’s breathing so heavily that she can barely kiss you. But it’s worth it.

You collapse next to her when you pull away from the kiss and let her catch her breath.

Sevika wasn’t lying when she said there would be more time. You don’t know how it happened, but at some point, Sevika ends up on top of you, hands pinned above your head with her mechanical arm, a reassurance that you can’t move, and the other one wrapped around your throat. It’s not tight, but Sevika always had a habit of showing off her strength, proving that she’s stronger and quicker than you.

You squirmed a bit as her grip tightened and she slowly slid the strap inside of you. She does it so slowly that you can’t help but moan her name. She does it softly at first, pushing it in, pulling it out, making you beg for more. She wants you to ask for it.

“Sevika.” You say sternly. You can see the glint in her eye as she slows the pace even more. There are always moments like this after Sevika cums, she loses all shame, every wall that she’s built has fallen, sunken into the floor, there’s nothing left there now but a woman starved. She smiles, and it looks so genuinely soft and precious, unexpectedly the best thing you have ever seen. “Please.” You whisper, almost choking with the grip around your neck.

She leans forward, the grip loosening just a tad as she connects your lips. She kisses you like you just said the magic word, slow and meaningful, it lingers even when she pulls away. The room is dark but you can still see her face and if your hands weren’t held down, you’d touch it, feel it, trace every scar.

And then, without warning, she thrusts into you hard and rough and fast.

“Fuck!” Falls from your lips before you can stop it. It’s loud and for a moment, you hope her neighbors can’t hear you. But then you forget all about them because Sevika is fucking you to the point of ruin and all you can focus on is the way her brows furrow, focused solely on your pleasure. It feels fucking incredible. She feels fucking incredible.

You can’t hold on for long, you’ve never been able to. Sevika is too good, too sexy, and you’re too wet, too horny, too needy to hold on. It doesn’t take many more for your back to arch and a cry to come out. Sevika slides out slowly, never looking away as your orgasm hits its peak. You can barely breathe but you’re sky high and you never want this feeling to end.

She leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your jawline before slotting in next to you. The two of you breathe heavy for a minute before you turn to her, reaching out and running a finger over her new arm. “This is new.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” She asks, still breathing too heavily to relax.

You laugh, leaning in closer to her. Her skin is sweaty and you love the feeling of your body pressed against hers. There’s no place you’d rather be. You kiss her shoulder, “It was just an observation.”

She turns towards you now too. Her eyes are gentle when they look at you, it’s somehow the most intimate you’ve felt with her. She’s mesmerizing to watch. So rough and hard around the edges. A fighter. But here, in this space, she’s soft when she wants to be, a beauty to look at, and warm to the touch.

“Just an observation.” She repeats.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching over, a previous desire you can’t ignore, and trace a scar on her face. She doesn’t flinch away, instead, she takes you by surprise, grabbing your hand and gently placing a kiss on your palm.

You’ve never felt like this before.

“You said you had a long day? Did this help?” You ask, almost sheepishly. You don’t know if it’s the right thing to ask, or if she’s even going to answer, but you really want to know.

A smile forms on her lips, she’s holding back a laugh by sticking her teeth into her bottom lip. “Yeah, it did.” And then she kisses you like she means it.

You don’t know how time passed so fast, but you’re clenching the headboard in front of you to keep steady as you ride her face when morning comes. Her hands are gripping your thighs tightly, you know they’ll be bruised in a few hours. She spreads you open farther, sticking her tongue deeper, pulling a loud, “Fuck,” from your lips. “Sevika, my god.”

You guys fall asleep at some point, not soon enough to get the right amount of sleep, but that’s something for later you to deal with. For now, you admire Sevika as she climbs out of bed, still naked and as stunning as the night before. You want to pull her back in, kiss her roughly, tell her that the outside world could go one day without her.

“What?” She asks, noticing you staring.

Your cheeks heat up with a smile. “Come here.”

She stops for a moment, just looking at you like you’re something dangerous, and then she climbs back over to you, hovering above your body. “Yes, Y/N?”

Your breath is quickening already, “Kiss me.” You whisper, knowing that if you raise your voice even a little bit, it’ll quiver. And you can’t think of anything more embarrassing than that.

Sevika obliges.

The kiss is, above all else, delicate. A stark contrast to what was going on only hours before.

You’d take her in your mouth right now if you could, spreading her open and licking and sucking until she’s a mess all over your face again. But you also knew there were limits to whatever was happening between the two of you, and right now it was good, fragile and soft, there was no need for it to be anything more than that. Not with Sevika’s busy schedule.

So you opted for seeing her on her terms.

“How much longer do you have?” You ask against her lips.

She shakes her head, “I’m late, actually.” It’s regretful? Almost. It’s something.

Your head falls back onto the pillow with a huff and Sevika smirks, “I know, love. I’d stay if I could, you know that.”

You don’t. Not really. She doesn’t normally express feelings like this, but you like it, so you’ll take it.

“When can I see you again?” You don’t normally ask this soon, but you can still feel her inside of you and the thought of not knowing when you’ll finally get her again makes you want to die.

She kisses you again, smiling against your lips. Maybe you should ask more often.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

You can’t help but smile at the question.

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #smut #sevika smut #sevika arcane x reader #sevika arcane smut #wlw #lesbian #sevika x you #sevika fanfic #nightfiilms writing

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seaspringangel · 1 month ago

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kiss kiss kissing game - kinich

you and kinich play a little kissing game. no biggie, right?

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

warnings: none! just pure fluff <3

a/n: so not only is it pocky day, it is also me and kinich's birthday + i had apt by rosé and bruno mars on loop!!!!! so i wrote this dedicated to my new obsession and birthday twin. i hope you guys enjoy <3333

“Kinich, would you like to play?”

Your smile was truly saccharine, possibly more sugar-sweet than the chocolate glaze that covered the thin stick you waved in front of his face, and it made Kinich’s heart skip a beat.

He was too caught up in staring at you to answer at first. He stared at how your eyes danced with such pretty whimsy, how your face glowed like a star in the grass before him, forever bright and burning, the setting sun behind your back dousing you in a golden radiance that sent him silently spinning, much like the world on its axis.

Staring at your lips, still stained with fruit juice, glistening red as if you’ve been passionately kissed. Would you like to be kissed?

“Kinich?” You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in such an innocent way that he feels his heart racing again, making him feel like he was standing on the needle-point edge of a mountaintop, ready to fall into the embrace of something greater.

Kinich could only hope his face didn’t betray the emotions creating a storm within him, lest he be blown away. “I heard you. Play what?”

You smile even wider, even brighter, even lovelier. “The pocky game!”

…what?

“What.”

You laugh, mirth shimmering in the air around you like a veil spun from the fabric of your joy, and Pryo Archon above, how he wanted to lose himself in you - in the bell chime of your laughter, in the light that sang from your very being.

“It’s a game, like the ones you compete in here in Natlan.” You glance up at him beneath the butterfly wings of your lashes, a little dream unfolding before Kinich’s eyes. “...but without, y’know, the maiming. Or the potential death.”

Kinich couldn’t help but feel his lips quirk up slightly at your cheekiness. You always seem to make him smile, even without meaning to.

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to being resurrected again actually.”

You roll your eyes. “Veeeery funny. Anyway, this game is simple and silly, and it may not be as adrenaline-inducing as bungee jumping or the like but I think we’ll both find it fun. And I figured…”

Suddenly, your smile becomes soft and Kinich doesn’t know what he’d do if you kept looking at him like that, with your pretty eyes crinkling with a tenderness that stoked a blaze hotter than Turnfire within him.

“...I figured since it's your birthday too, we could do something silly, I guess. Together.”

You were still smiling, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in your voice, swelling like a tide. You just wanted to make him happy. You just wanted him to be carefree and unburdened as you were, even if was for one day, and how could he possibly turn you away when you looked at him like that, pure glitter in your eyes?

It was as easy as plunging head-first off the edge of a cliff.

“Whatever game you want me to play,” Kinich said softly, “I’ll play it. Just for you.”

You lit up, a dazzling flame of happiness made from Kinich’s dreams.

“Okay so,” you begin to explain, “I put one end of the pocky in my mouth, and the other end goes in yours.”

You press the chocolate-covered end of the pocky stick against his lips, and his lips parted to allow the treat entry. The sugar of it rested plainly on his tongue.

You laugh a little as you eye how stoic he looked still. If only you knew how he felt on the inside.

“To play, we have to start eating our ends. Whoever mouth lets go of the pocky first, loses. Or…”

And this is when you begin to blush a little, and Kinich relished in the way your cheeks pinked like the clouds rolling overhead, so sweet and beautiful. “Or we both get to the middle and kiss, making it a tie. But it’s not a big deal or anything!”

Kissing you, with your cheeks so flushed and your lips looking so petal-soft. That was certainly a challenge worth more than its weight in gold. And a challenge he wouldn't back away from.

And for the rest of the day, and beyond that, with chocolate and satisfaction still melting on his tongue, nothing could’ve compared to how sweet you tasted, how soft your lips were against his, plump as a daisy, just as addictive as the fruit juice coloring your mouth painting his own like smeared lipstick. A kiss kiss kiss here and there until he had you laid out on the grass, saccharine and sugar sweet all for him.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

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apple pie - send a character + a prompt off this list and I’ll write a drabble

congrats mae!! love the new theme and all your fics xx could i get sirius black and 10?

Thank you angel <3

¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology

cw: alcohol, reader is implicitly introverted and/or shy

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

Sirius finds you on the roof of his building. It’s a nice roof, not because of the roof itself—that’s pretty disgusting, actually, scattered with beer cans and smelling of piss from parties gone by—but because of the view. The trees and bricks of his neighborhood, giving way after a few blocks to city lights and black sky.

You’re silhouetted against it all, sitting on the edge of the roof with your feet dangling over the pavement. You have a six pack of beer sitting beside you with one missing.

“Are you planning to drink all of those by yourself?” Sirius asks as he sits down on your other side, the beers between you.

You startle a little, and his muscles tense, ready to snatch you away from the edge. Sirius sits there like that all the time, but it makes him twitchy when you do it. When you realize it’s only him, your sigh is half relieved and half exasperated. Maybe there’s a little bit of fondness in there, too.

“No,” you reply, “but I wanted to have the option.”

“Sound.” Sirius grabs one for himself, popping the tab with a hiss.

You keep looking out into the distance while he takes a couple of slow sips. He never knows what exactly you’re doing when you get like this. Sometimes you’ll be quiet for so long he thinks you must be entirely in your own head, but then you’ll say something like “I think that couple on that stoop has just been on their first date. See how nervous they are?” and he’ll realize you’ve been paying attention all along.

Now, he knows you’re only waiting for him to own up.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, “for luring you here under false pretenses.”

“You told me it was a small dinner.”

“There is food down there, if you go looking…”

“This is a party, Sirius.”

“You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you it was a party.”

You take a sip of your beer, looking like you might be trying to hide a smile. “No,” you agree.

“Then I lied.” He tests his luck, tossing you a grin meant to coax out your own. “I’m not sorry.”

“I knew it,” you mutter, but there’s no real malice in your voice. Sirius leans over, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“I wanted to see you.”

You give him a look. “You could see me any night.”

“I wanted to see you tonight,” he amends. “I had to get you here somehow.”

You sigh, leaning into him in turn. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from your party.” You cringe. “Or being rude to your friends.”

“Don’t be silly, nobody minds. They all love you anyway, and now that I’ve been gone for more than five seconds James will have seized the opportunity to change the music. They’ll all be having a grand time.”

You smile, turning your face down so your hair almost covers it. But Sirius won’t be robbed of the sight; he hooks your hair on a finger, slotting as much as he can behind your ear.

Your eyes meet his. “I like your music,” you tell him.

Sirius beams. “And that’s why I like you, gorgeous. Well,” he hedges, “part of why. There’s also your personality, I suppose.”

“Stop.” You give him what he supposes is meant to be a stern look, but it’s only heart-wrenchingly cute.

“And your lovely ass, can’t forget that.”

You turn your face entirely away from him, but your shoulders shake silently. Now that Sirius has you laughing, he decides to push his luck one more time.

“Do me a favor?” He asks. You look over, still fighting your smile. “Come back inside. You can sit with Remus—he adores you, and he’ll be happy to have someone he doesn’t need to make small talk with. In an hour I’ll kick everybody out, and it’ll be just us for the rest of the night. Okay?”

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, mulling it over. “Yeah,” you say after a minute, “okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll head down.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sirius leans over, capturing your lips with his. He makes it good and persuasive, but in all honesty he’s probably as wobbly as you are when he pulls away. “And will you do one more thing for me, please?”

“Um.” You look a bit dazed. “Sure.”

“Get down off the edge. You’re freaking me out.”

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comfortless · 8 months ago

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i have been thinking about this for a while and i love how you write, so what do you think of biker!könig with a gf that studies in uni? how did they meet? does he get jealous easily of her classmates? what is the aftermath of his jealousy (😏)?

thank you so much 🩷

-🌵

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fem (afab) reader, suggestive, but mostly just two sillies attempting to flirt.

They first cross paths at a gas station. Sundown and desolate apart from the woman who approaches the tiny shop on foot whilst he straddles his bike at the pump.

She doesn’t notice him, and that’s just fine. More often than not, people do but for the wrong reasons. It’s always the height or the face only his mother could love. This is a good thing, shows she’s not hasty with her judgment, shows she’s just unaware enough to let something like him in.

It’s stupid, completely ridiculous at how he feels his heart thump to life, ribcage squeezing and stomach a whirl with butterflies at the mere sight. The furthest thing from love comes to mind at the sight: plush thighs peeking out against the hem of shorts that cut off just below her bum, the tight tanktop that displays her cleavage in a way so enticing. But that’s what he immediately thinks of, that word that seems foreign to him even in his mother tongue.

Love.

König could be a gentleman, lie her down in his bed instead of fucking her over the bike, if she were kind enough to follow him home. That offer feels heavy as lead on his tongue, lost someplace in his throat when he really gets a good view of her.

He’s never been good with talking to women, anyway. Especially not an angel so far out of his league she would surely only scoff with her sweet drink in hand, turn away from him with her nose held high and dark circles under her eyes as she suffers through another paper back at her dorm or wherever she came from.

So, he leaves her be as much as he can and should, only watches her with his helmet in place and that dark visor masking where his eyes wander from her face down to the retreating view of her legs as she walks.

The next time time is during the rain.

König is good at refraining from acting on base instinct. There’s a lot to consider before stealing away some miserable dove on the sidewalk, the light drizzle from above soaking into her dress and battering her lashes as she sits and waits for a ride that just doesn’t seem to be coming. He’s got his military background, keeps his house tidy and rarely muddles in the affairs of other people.

It’s just that she’s cold.

He tells himself that the only reason he stops his bike some meters away is because she will get sick if he doesn’t offer her a ride. He’s just being a gentleman. There’s nothing more to it.

So he does. Keeps his helmet on and masks his face as well as the weird excitement and nervousness in his voice when the muffled offer taints the wet air.

It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t have never considered any of this if she weren’t so cute. If she didn’t look so fragile and sweet. She smiles and nods immediately, fusses with her dress a bit when she climbs onto the bike behind him when she tells him that she’s only just been on a date. It just hadn’t turned out well and whoever the bastard had been had dipped before even the entree was served.

It sends his mind spiraling when it shouldn’t.

It’s deranged to think of her misfortune as fate when it isn’t.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know where to put my hands,” she laughs someplace against his shoulder, chin just slightly tilted up to bump his damp t-shirt. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard, not mocking at all, only shy.

“Around me.”

He sounds like an old pervert, feels just like one when he takes her hands into his own and guides them around his middle. Presses in a bit too tight, because it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman so close and it feels good to be held like this.

She makes some quiet noise, a soft gasp, then presses her face into the darkness of his shirt to hide away from the rain or maybe…

“You can come home with me. It’s close.”

She laughs again, and he’s reminded of just how little tact that he has with the fairer sex. She must think him an idiot, some hopeful vigilante that scoops women up from the street after nightmare dates with bad food or bad dick. It sounds so stupid to his own ears, he knows he’s burning crimson beneath the black helmet.

Until she squeezes him a bit, gives what must be her best attempt at a hug from their positioning. Again, too, maybe out of surprise that there’s muscle there. Something a woman like her might like.

“I’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” and then “You seem a lot nicer than he was, anyway.”

The air gets stolen from his lungs and his jaw grows loose. She had only told him yes to maybe sitting on his couch, watching some miserable war film until he brought her back to her academic wasteland, but not a part of him had expected that.

It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn’t said a word, that he’s sat panting like some stay being offered a meaty bone. He takes a moment to reposition her grip around him, too ashamed of the way his cock springs to life at her closeness and the ridiculous fantasy playing out in his head.

“Right… you can dry off there.”

He doesn’t immediately remove the helmet when she steps into his abode, just guides her over to the washroom when she asks if he would mind if she used his shower and lets her be. That room has never known a woman’s touch, and the shirt he gives her to change into isn’t comparable to the cute, floral thing she was wearing.

He takes her dress to the dryer to distract himself from the fact that she’s naked in there, just a flimsy door away. Changes out of his own sopping wet clothes after considering that maybe she would want to touch him again. Maybe it felt nice for her too, just to hold someone. He could hold her too, if she wanted that, bring her right to his bed and keep her safe and warm.

“You’re out of conditioner,” she peeps as she steps back out of the bathroom. “Just thought you would want to…”

Her eyes trail over him for a time as her words taper off to nothing. Then, they’re locked to his face and any hope goes up in an inferno. The scars are probably scary, the dark circles from weeks of minimal sleep are probably even worse. She probably thinks him some sort of monster or a demon, something no girl should be left alone with.

Then, she smiles.

“Wow…”

“What…?”

He expects the worst and instinctively casts a sideways glance toward the helmet sat by the door. The perfect covering to avoid situations like this. It’s not that he’s dependent on it, but… maybe he would have had some sort of chance had he not taken it off.

“I’m sorry for staring, you’re just really…”

Ugly. Scary. Whatever words she’s considering, he doesn’t care to hear them. She could just ask to go home, save herself some fear and save him from another rejection.

“… cute.”

“Okay.”

Scheisse.

That wasn’t a “thank you” or anything of substance, but this is more mortifying than anything prior. Even the women who had pitied him with a date before had never called him something so endearing, never likened him to some adorable little thing or stared up at him like she does now. She only seems giddy, a fire burning behind her eyes like she’s just discovered some secret treasure.

“… cuter than your date?,” he hazards, rolls his shoulders and tilts his head at her. His attempt at sounding confident only comes across bitter and jealous. Maybe he is, but that fucker blew his chance, and she’s blessing König with far too many.

“Definitely.”

The tension feels tangible, despite the absurdity of all of this. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say or how long to take between breaths.

She’s stood there in his shirt, looking as if she’s already his and he’s the one left feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“I think you’re pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Ever since I first saw you, I…” He’s babbling too much, losing any composure because she just keeps her eyes trained on him, that adorable smile curling at her lips. If he sounded creepy, like he’s been following her, she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Maybe you could take me on a date sometime,” she suggests, her voice coming as a breathy little whisper. Maybe she is shy, but she’s giving him the OK to push and prod and see just how far he can go, to expend all of his luck on this very night.

The rain outside only grows louder, threatening to cut the power and leave this docile angel in some dark pit with a mad king. He wishes it would, it grows harder to keep the prominent excitement in his crotch concealed the more that she talks and bats her eyelashes at him.

Being over-eager was a turn-off, right? He weighs his next words the best he can, considers playing it safe for just half a moment before they escape him anyway.

“Come here.”

There’s a darker storm brewing in his eyes when she takes those first, fragile steps toward him. But she graces him with the light of a spark when her hand finds his chest and presses there, feels his heart beating like it’s a normal thing to search for, like she’s just as mesmerized and surprised as she is now.

She’s snared in an instant with a face buried into her damp hair, lifted up with her legs guided to wrap around his waist. A decade worth of luck spent just like that, but he’s always been greedy.

The demand for more comes with a callused hand guiding her chin up. Her lips part immediately, eyelashes fluttering until they rest atop her cheeks, already warmed with the anticipation of what’s to come. His kissing begins gentle, soft for a second as he tries to memorize the plushness and curvature of her lips with his mouth alone.

Then, it’s only punishing.

He tries to hold himself back, but knowing he could have had this weeks ago while she was wandering about barely dressed drives him insane. The moment she gasps against his mouth, his tongue slips inside to find hers, rolls over it with such a ferocity that the corner of her mouth begins to glisten with their shared drool. She whines, then moans as her hands curl over his neck, petting at the short hair at the base of his skull.

His hands fall to her ass to keep her in place, gives her a pinch and then a grope when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at all.

And that’s where the well must have run dry, because she tilts her face away with a series of soft pants, squeezes her trembling thighs around him as if to make a silent demand to stop, or maybe not. Everything she does makes him feel both hot and crazy; she doesn’t even attempt to wind out of his grip here, only looks up at him sultry and helpless. She must be wet, he can smell it, practically taste her already, but he doesn’t persist when she halts this dance.

“Wait… waitwait. I don’t even know your name.”

“König.”

She laughs breathlessly, then dips her head to press against his shoulder. His hand immediately rises to pet at her hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers as she tells him her name in turn.

“I don’t really want this to just be… one night, you know?,” she says, and that intrigues him.

“That so..?”

“Mhm…”

He slowly lowers her back down until her feet meet the carpeted floor, then takes her face into both hands while she gives him a cute pout. He could be sympathetic, could make her love him even… she’s left the door open for him already, after all.

“I could just hold you,” he mutters, tracing a circle into her cheek, savoring in the way her eyes seem to light up at that.

“I would like that.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader #being gifted this ask after that one anon put the thought in my head to begin with? you all are a godsend actually

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thisthatpinkvenom · 1 year ago

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GIVE HER A LITTLE POW-POW ON HER BABYMAKER

BUSINESSMAN!SAN / HOUSEWIFE!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: What Bibi said in "Automatic" but make it domestic.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, smut smut smuttity smut but I think it's kinda cute(?) 😗

⤏ Content: rich married couple!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au, housewife!fem reader who knows how to cook (sorry to anyone who's not a MasterChef)

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): just straight up fucking, unprotected, breeding kink but it's more than a kink, creampie, light choking, light dirty talk, soft dom!San (my knees are weak), lots of swearing left and right, lots of yearning and pet names and it's kinda lovey-dovey but hey, what else do you expect from me at this point

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

"Ngh...l-let me make you feel g-good."

"Trust me; you already are..."

Earlier that evening, the familiar jingling of keys as the elevator doors opened and signaled San's arrival. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud before he stripped himself of his coat and undid his tie with a grimace on his face. He looked irritable, though the lines on his forehead ceased to be visible when he'd heard your feet padding across the floor to carry you into his embrace. A sequence of small and innocent pecks progressed into longing kisses and relieved sighs. And before you knew it, you were in the nude and on your bed, getting the pounding you'd been daydreaming of all day.

The bed never ceased its squeaking as your husband fucked you from behind. With your hand's iron grip on the headboard—that further continued to dig the dent in the wall deeper—your thighs trembled under all the weight you stressed onto your knees. Your back was flush against his abdomen, skin sticking with his through sheens of sweat. You were fortunate to live in a penthouse that offered you more privacy and freedom to fuck like rabbits, or else you would've received a very heated complaint for the incessant banging on your wall alone.

"This bed's f-fucking annoying," he grunted, frustration communicated through his hand which squeezed your breast in its clutch. "Need a new one, for fuck's s-sake."

You'd never voiced your complaints about the bed frame before, its sensitivity to any movement you made becoming a nuisance to your ears. You wanted to discuss going out and buying a new one but the right time hadn't come yet. Frankly, San had too much packed into his schedule, and you didn't want to pile any more things on his to-do list.

"I-I've been—ah—wanting t-to talk to you about t-that…"

Gradually, his thrusts became tamer until he stopped. The hand on your breast fell to your hip as he sat back on his heels, pulling you with him in the process. Your heart's drumming in your ears and you're trying to catch up with your own breath.

You didn't need to see to know the frown that made its way to his face. "Sannie—"

"And why am I only hearing this now?"

"You're so busy, and I didn't want to bother you. It wasn't a big deal, anyway," you reasoned.

His nose brushed the nape of your neck before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. "Mm, that's silly. Your concerns are my concerns. You should know that already, Baby."

Thank God, you were sitting. Otherwise, you would've melted to your knees if he kept this up. Fuck.

"I'll always try to make room for you," he continued, "no matter how hard it may be." His words melted under the soft sucks his lips made on your neck, his fingers having found your clit to toy with. "How about we go get a new one, this weekend? Then I can fuck you without all the noise."

Your walls clenched around his cock, earning a hiss and a chuckle vibrating on your skin.

"Ride me."

You set a steady pace when you began to work yourself on his lap, the squeaking commencing once again with every bounce you made on his cock. Despite the very vocal bed frame, the squelching from between your thighs couldn't be ignored either—the wet, little mess that your husband liked to play around with so much.

His other hand made its way up to your neck, his thumb and fingers gently pressing themselves into either side. The pressure had your eyes seeing black while your hands searched for his wrists, nimble fingers enclosing around them for any sense of stability. You really needed release, the flesh of your ass and thighs rippling with each hard smack against him.

"One day, I'll make time to put a baby in you. My baby," he rasped, the grip on your neck stiffening for a brief moment. "Ah, fuck…how does that s-sound, Honey?"

You clenched your teeth, eyes squeezed shut at the mention of being knocked up. And when you thought you couldn't be any more wetter, he'd proven you wrong.

"Oh, my God…d-don't say things you don't mean, Baby," you whined.

The pads of his fingers pressed deeper on your clit as they continued to draw circles on the nub.

"I fucking mean it. I always keep my promises."

Everything was just too much for you, your senses were stimulated to oblivion and you couldn't handle it any longer. The inevitable tension of your aroused pussy gave his cock a vice-like grip as you began to see speckles of noise behind your heavy eyes.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum—Sannie, I-I'm gonna fucking cum," you cried. Salt laid on your tongue from the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks, while the hand on your neck moved to your jaw.

He turned your face to his and shoved his tongue between your lips, pausing briefly to murmur, "I know, Baby. I know."

A trembling, soaked pile of mush was all you were at that moment. Putty under his touch, while you let him fuck your sensitive walls until he spurted a warm, white mess inside you. Your hips rocked slower until they settled to a halt, and your wet kisses had become tender. Nothing about this was funny, but you couldn't help but giggle, your teeth knocking against San's while the bliss was still clouding your mind.

"Lunch was really delicious as usual, by the way. Thank you, Honey."

Your thumbs declared a half-hearted war with each other, fiddling with no serious direction. You faced him, lying on your sides with lopsided smiles shared just between the two of you. The soft whirring of the air conditioner filled the room. Otherwise, you were undisturbed.

"You're welcome," you responded dreamily.

He shuffled closer to you, the bed squeaking once again.

"So, what's for tomorrow?"

You grinned, a playful glint in your narrowed eyes. "It's a secret. You can't open it until lunchtime. And don't even try, I know everything."

"Didn't I say your concerns were mine?"

"This one's an exception."

He smirked. "What if I gave you that baby in exchange for knowing what's for lunch tomorrow? Starting right now."

Your cheeks grew warm when the tip of his nose kissed yours.

"You play a really hard bargain."

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez timestamps #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #choi san smut #ateez san smut #san smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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undreaming-fanfiction · 8 months ago

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Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #background ronance #fluff and fluff and FLUFF #the first WIP out of a fuckton has been finished #yay #also I can't sleep who would have thought?

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seneon · 2 months ago

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★ jealousy, tomura shigaraki. written for @angeliicheartt !

"don't like him. at all," tomura grumbles and mumbles while his red crimson eyes avoids yours, leaving you to only let out a soft sigh. somehow to your boyfriend, "him" is someone you meddle about with. perhaps in tomura's eyes, this "him" matters to you more than tomura did. and it got him feeling like a wobbly jelly all jealous and agitated.

it tugs at the strings of his heart how you'd even open your mouth to speak to dabi, a colleague of yours in the league of villains. to tomura, dabi asking you for a cigarette because he ran out of his is somewhat a confession. maybe the fire villain wants some alone time with you or smoke together with you.

the console of tomura is on the brink of extinction, how his last finger is almost touching the tool unconsciously. the video game he plays is louder than usual, the television pretty much the only that has sound emitting from it. well, other than his opaque jealousy.

"tomura, i don't even have a cig with me," you said, eyes locked onto your boyfriend as he lets out an unsatisfied hum. "sure, dabi knows that. yet he still asked you for a stupid cigarette. stupid dabi, stupid cigarette. stupid—"

you plucked the game console out from tomura's hands and crossed your arms. "i said, i don't have a cigarette with me. he asked me to help him get a packet at the grocery store because i was going to the grocery store. hey, look at me," your hands cupped his cheeks and you leaned close to his face, causing light hues of roses to blush his cheeks red.

"i don't give a single shit about dabi, tomura. you're the one that matters the most, the only one for me. i love you, not him. and i ended up asking toga to get the cigs from the store instead. do you understand me? i only have eyes for you, because you're my boyfriend. and i'm your girlfriend."

tomura looks at you in silence for a moment before slowly nodding. your words seemed to have sunk into his mind, like they're slowly being typed out letter by letter to register.

"okay, sorry, y/n. i didn't mean to act like this," he murmurs before looking into your eyes. "1v1 with me? i'll let you win one game."

a smile crept up your cheek as you nodded, letting go of his cheeks before sitting close to him and grabbing your own console. as the game commences, you leaned close to tomura and pecked his cheek, leaning your head on his shoulders even though you know you'd lose like that. tomura lets you win anyways, with that silly little smile he only has for you.

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changbunnies · 10 months ago

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One & Only (18+)

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pre-established relationship, some light plot to establish the setting, college au but it's a background detail

♡ Word Count: 4.6k

♡ Summary: Following a perfect Valentine's Day date, you decide you're ready for the next step in your relationship with Chan. You want him, and you know he wants you- and the only thing left to do is tell him exactly how you feel.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (pretty, baby) corruption kink, virgin + inexperienced reader, mutual masturbation, fingering (f rec), handjob

♡ Notes: i wanted to upload something short (compared to what i usually write anyways) for valentines day and i’ve been wanting to write corruption kink channie for a while now, so what better time to do it! i hope you enjoy <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You sighed as you flopped on the bed, freshly changed into your pajamas- next to you lies Chan, your best friend and roommate turned boyfriend, easily the love of your life, and you nervously chew your bottom lip, faced with the choice of what to do next now that your first Valentine's Day as a couple had come to an end. Returning to your shared apartment, nerves rattling away at you as you changed out of your prettiest, formal dress and now on the bed, trying your best not to overthink your situation.

If you were being blunt and honest, you just really wanted to have sex with him- or at least take the next step in that direction. But the thought of it was utterly nerve wracking; every time he looked at you with his handsome, dimpled smile and pretty brown eyes, and you pictured seeing that same expression while he was hovering over you in your newly shared bed, it made your heart race out of control.

After an awkward, impromptu confession that led to you becoming a couple, the two of you slowly began sharing your space, until one day you stopped going back forth between bedrooms and decided to just share one. You chose your room to share in the end- Chan, the gentleman that he is, let you have the larger room when you moved into this apartment as roommates, and it was the natural choice when deciding which of you would be moving their belongings into the other room. And it was nice, exciting even, to help Chan move his belongings into your space until it became not justs yours but his too.

But lately, sharing a bedroom served a problem- now that you slept in the same bed every night, you were becoming increasingly more aware of how badly you want him. And thanks to being friends and roommates before you were together, you knew had experience- experience that you felt you were sorely lacking. And it's not like you ever felt shame over the fact that you were still a virgin in college (as it's much more realistic than tv shows and movies would lead you to believe) but somewhere deep down you worried your lack of experience would make things awkward and unenjoyable.

That awareness of experience was equal, because in turn Chan was well aware of your sexual history (or lack thereof). You knew he wouldn't judge you, he would never be anything but kind and considerate, but it was hard to prevent self doubt from digging its claws into your embarrassingly fragile heart. You knew it was silly to feel this way knowing all that you do about Chan's character and his care for you that extends beyond titles of friend or girlfriend, but your nerves ate away at you regardless.

You kissed people before Chan, and that was unfortunately the extent of your prior experience. Your kisses were shared with fleeting crushes in high school, inside the confines of short lived relationships that never made it past first base. You didn't mind at the time- you weren't ready for more then, and you weren't going to compromise on sex just to keep a relationship going. But now here you were, an adult with little to no experience; and now that you were ready you were plagued by the idea that all of the awkwardness and exploration you could've gotten past in your adolescence will now be Chan's burden.

He wouldn't actually view it as such, you knew for a complete fact that he wouldn't- but the thing about self doubt is that logical thought does little to prevent it from taking root. And you felt terrible because Chan noticed you were feeling off since coming back to the apartment following your date; of course he did, he always noticed when you weren't acting like your usual self. You had such a perfect date together and now you were ruining it with your virginal rumination.

"What's on your mind, pretty?" Chan asks as he tucks the fallen hair behind your ears, the beautiful necklace he gifted you as your date came to a close perfectly adorning your neck. A silver locket in the shape of a heart, with dainty gems accented into the patterned engraving, which you opened to find a picture of the two of you after your first date. It was so perfect that you were speechless, and he admitted it took him months of saving to afford it (which was why your Christmas gift was something much less expensive in comparison and instead purely sentimental.)

"I-I'm sorry, I just.." you swallowed as you looked at him, your heart squeezing both from your nerves and from just how soft his expression is. "I was just thinking.. that I want to do more than just.. makeout, y'know..?"" You try your best not to blush from the admission, especially not when he starts smiling at you, but you can't stop your face from burning, and you turn your gaze away from his eyes, embarrassment taking its hold.

"Baby, look at me," he speaks softly but you can hear the smile in his voice before you even meet his gaze again to see it. It's a gentle smile that relays sweetness and care, but there's an underlying excitement beneath; because while he would never do anything to rush or pressure you along, he obviously wants more too. You're gorgeous, his best friend, his dream girl- of course he wants you. "You sure? I know it's a special day but we don't have to rush it or anything. I've already got the perfect gift."

You smile- timidly, but genuinely. He's so impossibly sweet, always; it's one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place. "Yeah, I'm sure- and I promise it's not just because it's Valentine's Day. I've been thinking about it, and I really want to, I'm just.. nervous is all. I've never.. you know.." You hesitantly meet his stare, your hand now nervously and unconsciously fiddling with the locket he gifted you that hangs from your neck.

It’s unceremonious the way his cock starts to throb from your timid words alone, almost shameful. He doesn't even know how much further than making out you're even going to go, but his body reacts regardless, independently from his brain that recognizes your need for slow, careful affection. There’s a million things he wants to say- “we’ll go slow” or “I’ll take care of you” or even “I love you” but his brain practically short circuits when you lift yourself from the pillows, locket dangling as you come closer to him, leaning down to press your lips to his.

A moment of confidence? Or maybe you already knew all the things he’d say and didn’t need to hear them? You’re not entirely atop him- that’s still a step too far in uncharted territory, but this at least.. Kissing him is something you can do without getting in your own head about experience and desirability. His fingers rest behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you- softly and slowly at first, the way he always does. It’s always a build up, his lips taking their time, his every caress careful but deliberate.

He always makes your heart race when he kisses you, makes your stomach do somersaults and blood run hot. Nerves aside, it’s undeniable how much you want him. One hand on his chest and the other in his hair, he’s careful when sits up from the bed to adjust your positions, conscious to not cause you to remove your hands from his body as you move in tandem with him. You let him lay you back down, catching just a glimpse of him hovering over you before your eyes are closing again as he kisses you. When his tongue licks your lips, you open your mouth to him without so much as a thought- it’s automatic, innate the way you welcome him into you.

It always makes you dizzy, the way Chan’s tongue dances around yours, swirling and building the excitement from deep within your gut to new heights you didn’t know possible. This time however, there’s an added desire, his kisses and gentle touches more impassioned with the promise that you’ll be giving him more; more skin to kiss and touch, to feel under his calloused fingertips, to admire and love and venerate. You’re all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, really; and he wants you to know, desperately wants to show you how much he desires you.

One arm holds his weight up while the hand on your face starts to trail away, fingers tracing the skin it travels over. Careful, slow, deliberate- it’s foreign but comfortable, somehow. When he hesitates, you affirm, you chase his touch, you pull him back, you silently plead with desperate eyes and eager breaths. Your face grows hot when your shirt comes off, his gaze hungrier when met with the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened more so from the building anticipation than from the cool air.

He wants to dote on you- call you cute, caress your burning cheeks, kiss the blush on your face and feel the heat of it on his lips. So he does, slowly so as to not overwhelm you, word choice careful as to not embarrass you. Your cheeks burn brighter, but you smile; a cute, shy one that his cock reacts to in equal measure to his heart. Pretty, beautiful, cute, he says it all as he starts to trail his kisses around the shell of your ear and to your neck.

And you’re shy, impossibly so, but you indulge in the affection, as happy as you are timid and out of your depth. You can count on a single hand the amount of times he started kissing your neck during a makeout session, and you were always left wanting more but were much too sheepish to admit your building desire. But after that first time, when you were in the bathroom that night and saw the trail of small, just barely visible bruises left behind on your neck, you knew- you wanted more, and he was being considerate, holding back for your sake.

You didn’t need that anymore, nor did you want him to- don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, leave your mark for all to see, touch and kiss and suck wherever you want. That’s what you want to tell him, but it’s hard to formulate that thought into words when the feeling of his lips on your neck and fingers ghosting over your nipples makes your brain grow fuzzy. He’ll get the hint though, you think, when you tilt your head to the side to allow him easier access to your skin and a whine leaves your lips.

He can feel your body tremble, can hear and feel your breath hitch when his attention to your skin grows in intensity. Harsher sucks to your pulse point, more deliberate rubs of your nipples between his fingers- still careful, but no longer entirely delicate, as if you’re made of porcelain. No, his touches are now firmer, with more purpose and intention, more confidence now that it’s clear your admission of wanting more was not something said just to appease his growing desire to have you.

He throbs when he pulls back to look at you; face flushed, skin varying in shades of pink and red, breath a near pant, hair fanned out and growing messy, the locket he gave you still staring back at him in the middle of it all. His fingers trail over it and you watch him carefully, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. “Should I take it off..?” you ask, wondering if it’ll get in the way somehow and he quickly shakes his head, leaning back down to you, his lips just barely touching yours.

“Fuck no, leave it on. I love seeing it on you like this. Like-” he stops a moment, carefully considering if what he’s going to say will scare you off. But fuck it, you’re all being honest tonight, right? So why shouldn’t he say what he’s really thinking? “Like you’re mine. All mine,” he finally says, and though shy, you smile as you expertly play into it, feeding his fantasies. “I am yours Channie, I’m always yours.” Oh, you really have him now (as if he wasn’t already impossibly yours to begin with- you don’t even know the depth of his belonging to you.)

Chan thought about you like this so many times- for years if he's being honest. He always felt guilty; the way he fantasized about you, his best friend for all his formative years and then his roommate, spread out for him and crying his name, clutching him so tightly that your nails dig into his skin. He just couldn't control it, and even his dreams, which were once innocent in nature (if you could believe it), you were there, whimpering on his cock, back arching as hushed whispers of praise were spoken into your ears, your eyes rolling back and drool escaping the corner of your parted lips.

He wanted you, fuck, he wanted you, always have and he’s sure he always will. A single kiss and then he’s pulling back again, his hands trailing just over the hem of your pajama shorts. You unconsciously hold your breath, and maybe it’s his ability to read the nerves all over your expression that lead him to hesitate, capturing your gaze with sweet consideration despite how much he yearns to see all of you. “Nervous?” he asks and you nod, thankful when he kisses away the tension building in your body.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet,” he reassures you, taking his hands away from your hips and instead moving them up to your waist, where he knows you’re comfortable with his touch. “I-I am, I want to, I promise! It’s just..” you trail off, and Chan offers you a sweet smile, stroking your cheek as you once again fumble nervously with the locket on your neck. “It’s a lot, I know,” he finishes for you, and you’re relieved he understands (not that you even suspected otherwise- he’s always been the sweetest guy you know.)

He returns to kissing you softly and sweetly, his hands exploring the regions he knows you to be ready for, never wandering too far below your stomach. When he pulls away, your curiosity gets the better of you- you look where he rests between your legs, his erection noticeably straining in his sweatpants, a wet patch of what can only be pre-cum darkening the gray fabric. While you feel shy looking at it, Chan seems to welcome the curiosity, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Want to see it?” he asks and you gulp, tearing your eyes away to look back at his face. “Y-Yeah, can I..?”

“Course, baby,” he replies easily, his smile growing ever so slightly as he straightens up to remove his pants. You swallow, blush flaring as you watch him slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. Rather than returning to his spot between your legs, he settles next to you, sitting up against the headboard and making himself comfortable. Chan looks at you, watching as your eyes travel and drink him in; you take notice of how his cock twitches as you stare, how pre-cum steadily drips from the tip, how prominently his vein runs down the length of it.

You're not sure what words are appropriate when it comes to describing your feelings towards seeing him bare, but you know you like it- you really like it. Your gaze makes him throb- desire, need, love, all wrapped together with a pretty ribbon of innocence and purity. He's being patient, but fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to see your eyes well with pretty tears and body painted with ropes of his cum. "Do you want to touch it?" he asks, hopeful and raging with want- for you, your touch, your kiss, your pleasured voice, everything.

"Y-Yes, but.. I don't know how to.. how do I make you feel good..?" you ask with the cutest pout he's ever seen, and he truly feels like his heart is getting struck by lightning; you're going to drive him insane with need before the night is over. "I can show you," he offers, smiling when you quickly nod. You're amazed by how confidently he takes it in his hand, not a single ounce of shyness to be found in his actions, unlike you; you wonder if you'll ever be the same- able to act without timid embarrassment eating away at you.

Even compared to his large hands, Chan's cock appears impossibly thick, and you swallow as you watch him collect pre-cum from the head before he spreads it down the entirety of his length. His fingers trace the vein before he takes it fully in his hand, his gaze entirely fixed on your face as he starts to slowly pump himself. You swallow, completely mesmerized, the butterflies in your stomach thrashing violently. You look back up to his face when you hear his breath shudder, blush growing with the realization that your stare had an effect on him.

When Chan lets himself look away from your face, he notices the way your thighs press together, how you squirm in place as you watch him, yearning for touch- and it gives him an idea. "Can I-" he exhales a shaky breath, fisting his cock just the slightest bit faster when you meet his gaze again, "Can I see how you make yourself feel good too? Can you show me?" Your face burns hotter, your legs pressing harder together as his question rings in your ears. You swallow, impossibly nervous but equally as excited, and you nod timidly after a few moments of careful consideration.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you mumble as you shift your position to get your pajamas and panties down your legs. You timidly watch his expression as you settle yourself across from him, aware enough that he should have a good view of everything (even if the action of spreading your legs for him makes you want to cover your face in embarrassment.) Chan exhales another breath as he tightens his grip on his cock, licking his lips when he sees just how wet you are. You're dripping and it's all for him, because of him- finally, his dreams become realized.

Similarly to what he did to himself, you rub your fingers up and down between your folds, gathering the arousal on your fingers before you bring them to your aching clit. You bite your lip, shy as ever and embarrassed by the noises that leave you. You close your eyes in an effort to ebb away the shyness and focus on the pleasure, but you're still starkly aware of his presence, of his eyes watching your every move. You can hear his low groans and harsh breaths, can hear the sound of his fist pumping faster when you let out another whimper between your bitten lip.

It astounds you how something this embarrassing can also be so arousing- you don't think you've ever been more excited than you are now, and the mess between your thighs and under your ass is definitely a testament to that. As the moment continues, with you timidly opening your eyes to watch him again, he doesn't fail to notice that you focus entirely on your clit, so he has to ask- "Do you ever- fuck- put your fingers inside?"

God, as if your face isn't already hot enough- but it's a fair question, and you answer as best you can between the noises you fail to keep internal. "S-Sometimes, but- it's- I don't-" you try, though you fail to formulate the words you wish to say; partly due to pleasure fogging your brain, and partly due to not even knowing how to phrase your thoughts the best in the first place. "It's hard? Doesn't feel as good?" Chan takes an educated guess, and you nod, relieved he found the words for you.

He understands- your fingers are dainty, and it must be hard trying to get them angled deep, hard to find the spot that makes you see stars when you have to contort your body to barely comfortable positions. "If you want- if you're comfortable, I can.. do it for you..? Help you?" Oh. If you're being honest, you've thought about how good his fingers must feel so many nights while touching yourself, wondering about how good they'd make you feel, how expertly they'd make you cum. "R-Really? You want to?" you ask- perhaps a stupid question, but there's still a part of you that can't even believe he's attracted to you, even this far into your relationship.

"God, yes, isn't it obvious? C'mere, baby," Chan beckons you back to him, and you oblige. You crawl your way back to your spot next to him, sitting on your knees but with your legs still spread apart. He takes his dominant hand off his cock, bringing it instead between your legs, slowly rubbing and getting his fingers wet enough to slide easily inside. His opposite hand resumes the motion on his cock, and you unconsciously tremble- both because of the hand between your legs, and because the sight before you is so fucking hot (to put it bluntly.)

"You're so fucking sexy," Chan utters, starting with just one finger, pressing it inside slowly, and your reaction is immediate- body shuddering as a gasp escapes you, biting your lip as he pumps his finger slowly, ensuring you're comfortable and adjusted before he adds another. "Pretty, so pretty," he continues, the tips of fingers rub your deepest parts with hardly any effort on his part, and when he finds your sensitive spot you positively jolt, every nerve constricting as if thrown in an ice bath, body tense, stomach clenching as the pleasure builds.

"My gorgeous fucking baby- feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, a theoretical question with no expected answer, but you're whining and nodding your head, your hips acting independently of the rest of you, rolling and bouncing and chasing every ounce of pleasure that can be derived from Chan's fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, simply keeping pressure there as the motion of riding his fingers provides all the friction you need.

"C-Channie, feels so good, think I'm gonna-" before you can finish voicing the words, you're gasping and crying out. You're hot, your dripping with sweat, you're utterly floating as you're hit with wave after wave of explosive pleasure. He doesn't dare remove his fingers until you've finished riding it out, but to his surprise, you grab his wrist when he starts to pull his hand away, your eyes glassy and pleading.

"More? Please, more?" you ask so sweetly, and again he throbs, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you- debauched, dewy, and flushed, world shattered in the best way possible. "Yeah baby, I can give you more. Course I can," Chan says before he's thrusting his fingers inside as if there was never a pause. Your eyes roll back as you bite your lip, your grip on his wrist tightening as you grind down against his fingers, always meeting them halfway.

When you open your eyes to look at him again, you can't help but notice that the pace of the hand on his cock is sloppy and uneven, and while you doubt you'll fare much better, you decide to take over for him, to try to please him just as much as he has you. You hear him utter a quiet curse as he takes his hand away, letting you replace it with your own. It's a sight, a feeling, that he wants engraved in his memory- you, riding his fingers while your hand desperately pumps his cock, giving him your best effort and trying your hardest to make him cum despite how much your arousal fills your brain with fluff.

"Fuck, baby-" he groans, reaching his hand out to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue shoving it's way in your mouth before you can even process that your lips are touching. His hips buck when your thumb glides over the tip, sensitive and leaking, your soft hands sticky and wet and perfect. You hold his gaze when the kiss breaks, all your shy tendencies and thoughts of embarrassment seeming to fade to the very back of your mind, replaced entirely by desire and need- not just to cum again, which you unmistakably want, but to watch Chan cum too, to watch him fall apart and know that it was all thanks to you.

The room is filled with the slick sounds of your hands working each other, of heavy, panting breaths, of low groans from Chan and barely restrained, quiet whimpers from you, a sinful symphony played exclusively for your own ears. "Oh fuck, fuck-" he grits out, clenching his jaw and brows knitting together as he tries to stave his orgasm off long enough to watch you fall apart again first.

You can feel his vein pulsing beneath your fingers, can feel him twitch and throb, and there's a sense of pride you've never felt before that comes with it- it doesn't just feel good to cum, you realize, it feels good to watch your lover cum too, to be the reason they're losing composure and falling apart. "Y-You're close, Channie? Gonna cum?" He groans as he nods, licking his drying lips as his head falls back, unsure if he can hold it back much longer than he already has.

"Yeah baby, gonna- gonna cum for you, fuck-," Chan, who knows it's only a matter of seconds before he has no choice but to let go, mercilessly targets your sweet spot, his fingers all but drilling into it as his thumb rubs messy circles on your clit. Your hips stutter before your body seizes with overwhelming pleasure, the pace of your hand on Chan's cock faltering as your eyes roll back and you surrender yourself to the blissful sensation washing over you.

Chan follows quickly, the sight of you cumming again on his fingers breaking the already impossibly thin line holding him together, hot cum shooting out and spilling on his chest and stomach. You collapse next to him, legs aching (your knees especially) and body utterly exhausted. Your shyness returns when he turns his head to look at you with a sweet smile on his lips, and you blush as you return the smile.

You're both messy, in desperate need of a shower and a change of bedsheets before you actually sleep, but you bask in the moment regardless. He reaches for a tissue on the nightstand to clean the cum off his stomach before it dries and becomes a pain to wash off, and the moment it's done you're back in his arms, being hugged tight with kisses pressed to your forehead, your warm cheeks, and then your lips.

You curl into him, one of your hands holding the locket as you return his affection, pouring all your unspoken love and affection into the kiss you share. Your first Valentine's Day of hopefully a lifetime more, your joy immeasurable, your love boundless; a perfect day with an equally perfect end. You tell him you love him as he helps you clean up in the shower, he tells you he loves you as he helps you get dressed before he dresses himself, you share “i love you”s as you relax into each other in bed. You sleep, happy and warm and loved, secure in the knowledge that truly, this is only the beginning, and there’s still years worth of experiences left to share.

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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toruro · 1 year ago

Text

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no … Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999 @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!

#soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #seventeen soonyoung #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung smut #hoshi #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #📝 writing

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fever-project · 5 months ago

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I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

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Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

#linked universe #danny phantom #lu wild #danny fenton #lu x dp #dp x lu #writing fever #art fever #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #dp fanfic #I can do whatever I want it’s my birthday(week) 💅

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bendycxmet · 6 months ago

Note

You can run with this idea however you’d like I just needed to get this thought out there and share it… Yknow how Vash’s earring connects to his pen and he can hear through it. What if he hears more than he bargained for with the reader.

thank you so much for this omg i had so many thoughts for the rest of the day when i read this. anyway, enjoy!

tw: nsfw 18+ MDNI, masturbation, accidental voyeurism

Do You Copy?

Vash sits quietly at the inn desk, the dingy metal lamp on the corner the only thing providing him warm light as his nimble, quick fingers quickly clean his gun. He sits with his leg crossed over on his other knee, his eyes flitting between you and the silver piece in his hands. You’ve been pacing around the room, gesticulating and voicing your dismay to the plan he had just told you. About five minutes ago.

Vash finally swipes his gun clean with a piece of cloth, popping the barrel out to load his gun with bullets he may or may not even use in the first place. You stop your verbal train of thought, tapping your foot until he looks back up at you. “May I say something?” he inquiries gently. You huff, tilting your head, waiting for whatever response that you will undoubtedly disagree with.

“I will be in and out before you can even say my full name.” That forces a laugh out of you. Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser III. Say that five times.

“Ok, I see that you have made your decision, but because that decision is incredibly dumb, I am choosing to ignore it.” you cross your arms, turning your nose up at him and hoping that will change his mind. Not a chance, of course. Vash will always place your safety above his own.

He slowly approaches you, uncrossing your arms and holding your hands in each of his own, warm and cold to the touch. “I promise you I will be back in time to share those donuts with you in the morning. I’ll even bring the paper so we can read those silly comics you like.” Your heart warms. He really remembers all the little details about you. “I will be safe, just for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to protest the oncoming smile. “Fine. You better keep this promise Vash the Stampede. Pinky promise me?” Your smile slips through at his teasing groan.

His pinky intertwines with yours. “I promise. But you know I hate when you call me by my full name!”

—

You sit cross-legged on the dusty bed, worrying your lip between your teeth. It’s bloody at this point. The clock in the corner of the room reads close to 1am. He’s been gone for four hours. Too long in your book.

You begin to feel the anxiety eat away at your nerves, fraying the ends. Throwing yourself back on the bed, you growl into your hands. You need a distraction. A sudden thought strikes you. A rather…unpure one.

It’s been a while since the last time you were able to touch yourself. Traveling with Vash, the man who has your heart constantly in his hands, although oblivious to that fact, prevents you from relieving any sexual tension you feel. Especially when everything he does gets you hot beneath the collar. His figure not quite so hidden beneath his coat, his thighs that jut out when you two are running from imminent danger, the natural smell of him when you two cozy up on cold desert nights, the quickness in how he handled his gun earlier…

With enough fantasies now running through your mind, you shuck off the clothes that are now beginning to warm you up too quickly, sneaking a hand downward. You imagine how those gloved hands would touch you, guide you, slowing you down when you would hasten your movements as you near your climax, Vash’s face near your ear whispering sweet nothings. You begin to move your hand, rubbing yourself slowly, wanting to enjoy your alone time.

That’s right angel, just like that. Always so perfect for me. You keen as your imagination takes the fantasy in full swing now. As your fingers increase the pressure right up against your most sensitive spots, you swear the warmth of your hand turns into a metallic cold, your slick making the glide much easier as your pace picks up. You remember it is late, and that the other patrons in the hotel must be fast asleep. Searching for something to bite into to muffle your noises, you spot the pen Vash lent you. You clamp your teeth around the metal shaft, your fingers picking their pace back up as you have a fleeting thought that the pen trapped between your lips is instead one of Vash’s prosthetic fingers, prodding your mouth open so he can hear you.

—

The hallways are shrouded in darkness, two guards standing off to the side of a solo door down at the hall. Vash peers from around the corner, mapping his route. He feels bad for leaving you alone for so long on such a beautiful night. The outlaw he thwarted earlier in the week had more help than he imagined. Plus a network of tunnels connected to his hideout.

He takes a silent, deep inhale, steel-toed boot shifting slightly, ready to round the corner until a breathy sound makes its way into his ear.

“Vash-!” he stills, not quite believing what he’s hearing. No one else is behind him. He made sure to knock them out until morning. No, this voice was familiar. One he held close to his heart, away from the world, if only slightly muffled. Panting moans filter into his ear, interrupted by whimpers. His blood roars in his ears. Are you hurt? Did someone close to the outlaw find you?

“Yes, please right there my angel~”

All his worries are extinguished once he hears the nickname you give him. His blood now rushes down south, wetness pooling in his boxers. He fidgets, peaking back around the corner to ensure the guards weren’t alerted to the predicament he was now in. He really couldn’t go on like this, not when he’s finally hearing how you sound when you’re in the throes of pleasure.

He spots a doorway behind him with no light coming through the bottom. He steps up to the wood, ear to the door to ensure no one is truly inside, anxious to step inside to pleasure himself along with you as your moans begin to hitch. He slips in, back to the door now, lock in place as his hand twitches at his belt. He should be a gentleman, take off his earring, and respect your privacy. He feels dirty, perverted. You two are just friends. He has told this lie to himself several times a day, not believing someone as smart and loving as you to fall in love with the catastrophe that is his entire being. As if hearing his inner monologue from miles away, your praises spew into his ear.

“Oh, Vash, you’re too good for me. So handsome, so pretty, all for me-”

He teeths off his right glove, shooting his warm hand into his pants. God, he hopes you can forgive him once he has to confess this moment to you, but he cannot deny himself any longer. Not when you’re talking to him as if he’s there with you, delivering you the pleasure you deserve for being so good for him. He bites his lip to stifle his withering whimpers.

“Hah- god keep going I’m almost there please please please,” you hiccup. Have you had these fantasies running through your mind when you two cuddle in the cold nights? During your long walks under the scorching desert suns? He didn’t take you to have such a filthy mind, especially one that constantly had him as a recurring actor in your fantasies. He grips himself harder at the thought, teeth digging harshly into his bottom lip.

Your hitched whimpers turn suddenly into sharper cries, then a satisfied moan of his name. That sound is the death of him. He turns sharply to bite at his coat collar, hoping it can quiet him as his release hits him, cum shooting inside his boxers, a sticky mess he now has to deal with for the rest of his mission. His eyes open up, hazy and glossed over as he slides down the door, catching his breath.

You had calmed your breathing and thundering heart rate just a few moments prior, now frozen in your place on the bed. Did you hear…whimpering…coming from the pen in your mouth? You spit the writing tool out of your mouth, now wet with your saliva. You recall the conversation you had with Vash earlier that day.

“Have you always had one pen on you? Why does this one look so elegant too? It’s the nicest pen I’ve ever seen.” He hums, chuckling as your fingers smooth over the metal, wishing you could touch his arm like that- he’s getting sidetracked.

“Lost tech, actually. Wanna see a neat trick? Press the button on the side.” Once you press your finger against the button, he greets you from across the room, only for the pen in your hand to echo him. “My earring is connected to it. For easy communication when we aren’t near each other. Consider it a gift!”

Your hand flies to your mouth. So he definitely just heard everything. You shut your eyes in embarrassment, but the pleasure that now simmers in your veins begs for you to take action–to say to hell with it. If he seemingly rubbed one out to you pleasuring yourself, he has to like you in some way. You take a deep inhale, pressing the button again.

“You done there? You better hurry on back. I’m sure you could tell how…desperate I am to have you back now.” A loud yelp rings back, distant shouting ensuing right after.

“Um- I. Well got to go! See you soon!” comes Vash’s rushed reply before shots ring out.

You smirk to yourself. What a conversation this will be when he’s back.

A/N: >:) :D >:) me when i get silly in the middle of smut. spot the lil marvel reference? anyway that hoop earring is *versatile* it will now be used for several things in future missions. thanks for reading!

masterlist

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#vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader smut #vash the stampede smut #vash x reader smut #vash smut #trigun smut #trigun stampede smut #trigun x reader smut #trigun stampede x reader smut #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #bendycxmet writes

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belphegored · 5 months ago

Text

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

nsfw alphabet • Sitri

• content warnings: mentions of temperature play, exhibitionism, jealousy/possessive behavior, masochism, impact play, creampies. minors dni

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Sitri is incredibly fussy and tender.

He often gets too wrapped up in pressing light, fluttering kisses all over your face and body and whispering words of adoration. Tries to be utmostly gentle while he's fucking you, and although he doesn't always manages to, he at the very least makes up for it afterwards, making sure to soothe your aches while he cuddles you into slumber.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Goes without saying that his favorite part of you is your heart; he'd live glued to your chest if that were possible. Sitri adores all that comes with listening to your heartbeat of course, but through mere association has developed a thing for your chest in general. He does love to use your tits as pillow, to nibble and kiss along your collarbone area and such things.

Of himself, he likes his hands the most. Yes, he has a nice ass and so has a pretty face too, but he is most proud of his hands because he links them to his own resourcefulness and capabilities. He can touch, hold and protect you with them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He would rather cum inside you than anywhere else, should you give him the choice. He's unsurprisingly jealous and possessive despite how cool he tries to play it in front of others, so really Sitri wants nothing more than to claim you and finishing inside is the best way to do so. It feels so good too, he just can't help wanting to fill you up each and every time.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Daydreams of being the one to make your heart race. Most of his downtime is spent imagining different ways on which he could manage to. From surprising you a little bit while you are unaware, to embarrassing you so much that you break a sweat, or his guilty pleasure: scaring you...

Sitri gets caught on the fantasy, almost a vivid echo of the sound of your heartbeat on his mind playing all the time, gets hard in public and suddenly its a good thing that he doesn't have such a thing as shame but still gets the stink eye from Ppyong and Satan because they know.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced and skilled but not boastful about it. Doesn't much like talking about his previous lovers (especially not about the human ones and much less with you) but Sitri certainly knows his way around.

Most of what he learned about sex has been taught to him through Solomon, and even if he can't tell, it comes across in the way he loves you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary or lotus or just any position on which Sitri can rest his face on your chest; he's not at all picky as long as he can see your face and your expressions, too. All that said, positions from behind and on which he can't watch you offend him, he'd get all sulky if you ever suggest doggy

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

To have Sitri in a goofy mood you'd have to catch him sleepy, tired from a week of hard work. He lets his defenses fall down unadvertedly and doesn't even realizes he's being a little silly, blowing raspberries on your abdomen before he worships your pussy and such. Otherwise he's uptight and intense.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Takes good care of his appearance and is a little vain but not overly so.

He trims his pubes only because he's conscientious but it's not like Sitri is too hairy anyway. His light colored body hair is very soft and has a very peach-fuzz like quality to it, and looks especially pretty in example down his happy trail.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's incredibly open, intimate and emotional. Sitri doesn't even wishes he was nonchalant or less intense about intimacy and you in general; he's devoted to you and it shows in the way he makes love. There's not a moment where his hands are not holding yours, nor that goes without him reassuring you of the extent of his adoration.

He can't be casual, he worships you constantly with every deep, messy kiss and hard thrust and hopes that each load he empties inside you makes you see how much he's willing to give.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't do it too often. He only ever masturbates when he knows you won't be around on a good while, but otherwise prefers to tease himself to the thought of you for hours, the whole day even -he can hold on-, so you can find him a needy mess when you return to him. It's just much more rewarding than a solo session.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Besides his thing for hearts, Sitri is a masochist; he's a demon, he can withstand roughness and is especially fond of impact play being on the receiving end.

He's also into sensual stuff like sensory play, biting, crying (you making him cry and not even out of pain, just from being overwhelmed is such a turn on).

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom, chaises... bathtubs are as experimental as he gets in this regard, he's a bit of a purist and just likes to be comfortable enough to give you the attention you deserve.

He's also (though unaware of it) big on ambience; I'm not saying he curates playlists for sex and lights candles for the ocassion but he does like to make things feel special and not rushed or carelessly done. An unmade bed would be a turnoff because he's a prince he thinks you deserve better...

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Other than your heart's song right against his ear, he can easily be enticed by bossiness and you giving him orders. Although he won't reject sweet displays of affection, he much prefers petulance, insubordination, crudeness in the way you treat him.

He's a masochist, and if you ever playfully say something about hitting him, just know it's not a joke for him and he'll actually be expecting a slap across the face or something at least. Biting and rough play also get Sitri going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share. He won't share you at all, don't even joke about it or mention it at all. He has enough with the notion of having to share you with other demons in pacts and circumstances; if you grant him exclusivity he hopes you can keep your word.its a really sore spot for him, to doubt of the bond he has with you. He's a little jealous <3

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Sitri is definitely more of a giver and could spend any amount of time between your thighs; he's not too hung up in making you orgasm a certain amount of times or anything, just loves your taste and how your thighs feel clamping around his head.

He's slow at it if only because he adores to eat you out so much, and oftentimes wakes you up with little pecks to your clit because he just can't help it, knowing you're bare and spread for him and having to resist putting his mouth on you.

Will make eye contact the whole time, too...

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with him often starts gentle, deep and slow paced until he starts to lose it, and then Sitri can't actually tell he's manhandling you and roughing you up just a bit too much. He's not used to humans and forgets his own strength even when taking things slow; what is a shallow thrust for him has you feeling him all the way up your guts.

Sitri tries to be sensual and more often than not he manages, but the bruises along your hipbones and aching between your thighs are testament that you're not fucking just anybody.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He will take what he can get but is not a fan of quickies, can't see the appeal behind them and he much rather take his sweet time with you.

The only exception is when said quickie is risky too, say near exhibitionism, on a tight deadline or something similar; the thrill behind that, Sitri can savor for obvious reasons.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He would try anything for you with blind trust, but isn't all too adventurous by himself. Blame it on a lack of creativity for sex especifically or on the fact that he's too focused on you to care about experimenting, but it's not like he'll come up with something crazy out of nowhere.

The times he does though...he doesn't hesitates in telling you right away in a blunt manner.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

As all demons he can go for basically as long as he wants to and its likely you will be worn before he feels even remotely sated.

Still, Sitri is extremely serviceable and thoughtful and would only go as many rounds as you can withstand. If he notices you're getting tired or sore, he'll pretend he's had enough and cuddle you instead.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He does <3 riding crops, silken blindfolds, cuffs, mostly to use on him but can be easily conviced into using them on you as well.

His personal favorites are cockrings though, especially vibrating ones; he has a modest collection of them and loves to wear one on the daily for you, keeping himself just expectant enough.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Just the right amount, he would say. He is not a tease and sometimes is scared you're gonna pull away entirely if he pushes mind games too far, but truth be told he would love to be mean and have you on edge from time to time.

The less rational side of him wants to get some payback from you for all the time you've been kept away from him, wishes he could edge you and not give you what you want until you're begging, but ultimately you're his soft spot, so Sitri cannot follow through with all that.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Breathy, mumbling and almost loud but for your ears only. At times he can't really help the lewd moans he's allowing you to hear from him, and at time he downright does it on purpose because he knows how much you loves it when he gets noisy.

He's not one to talk filthy to you or be overly vocal other than in sounds (as opposed to words), he's too preoccupied with listening to your heart.

That said, his breathing hitches pretty quickly and it's quite cute.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He's into temperature play, especially cold. Loves to have you tease him slowly sliding an ice cube up and down his torso, around his chest, over his nipples and along the length of his cock until he's broken.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Above average size, cut and pretty, it's the kind of dick that beckons you to press little kisses all over it. The tip blushes up from pink to reddish the more aroused he gets.

He has a near permanent indent on the base from just how often he wears cockrings.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Sitri's libido equals to yearning and is also dependant on you; he's not just horny or needy, he longs to be with you pretty much 24/7 in any way he can, and could he get away with that, he would.

There's no such a thing as "not in the mood for him", so whenever you want him is fine by Sitri, he's pretty much at your disposal.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quickly, it's cute. He's hardly ever truly satisfied, as he could keep going for several rounds, though once Sitri settles by your side to spoon you it's over. He's courteous enough to wait for you to fall asleep first the first couple times you have sex with him. Once he gets truly at ease, he's likely to doze off first, his attempts at staying awake for you futile and silly looking. He'll start mumbling whatever ad he kisses lazily over your shoulders and you know he's gone.

#what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad smut #whb #whb smut #whb sitri #whb sitri smut #whb sitri x reader #whb sitri x mc #~my writing

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padfootagain · 1 month ago

Text

Love in Verses (XXVIII)

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Saoirse and Sean are back and… it’s an emotional one, so be prepared!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4226

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Postscript

And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you’ll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

Seamus Heaney, The Spirit Level

“Y/N! Come on!”

“Andy, it’s fucking freezing!”

“It’s not! It’s almost spring, come one!”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He gave you a cheeky, toothy grin, the kind you couldn’t resist, that made your heart melt into a puddle.

Damn Andrew and his cuteness…

You heaved a sigh, started taking your clothes off. It was a bad idea anyway, that morning swim. Andrew claimed that he came to this spot often, that the sea was so nice there, that he had seen seals a few times, that the water wasn’t that cold, that it was good for you anyway to swim in cold water. You still wanted to go back to bed, it was barely eight in the morning, you were cold and wanted a coffee…

Why had you let him drag you into this anyway?

Oh, yes, of course, because you had a very silly crush on him, of course.

A crush you denied, by the way. You still intended to get Frank back, to get your life back. Andrew was amazing, but everything in your life was complicated enough, being with him would be insanity. And anyway, he probably didn’t see you this way at all… He was falling for someone else, remember?

You didn’t notice though, how Andrew stared at your legs as you took off your jeans, standing now in your bathing suit. You didn’t notice the way he gulped at the sight of so much skin revealed to his eyes, the way he looked at the circle of skin revealed on your back, the way he blushed at your cleavage.

Instead, you were gathering your clothes in a pile, getting your towel ready for when you would run out of the freezing water.

Andrew had turned around when you looked up again, and you couldn’t help the way your heart sped up as you stared at his naked back, took in the white of his skin gleaming in the sunlight, studied the dip of his lower back and the long line of his spine…

He took off his jeans and turned around, you blinked at the sight of his chest, of the hair that coloured his torso, the happy trail that disappeared under the fabric of his swimsuit…

You averted your eyes, busied yourself with making an ordered pile out of your clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you had been staring…

“Come on! In the water!”

He took your hand to drag you towards the sea. An infinite of deep blue against the paler hue of the sky with accents of gold. Waves crossed the quiet surface, tainted it with the white lines made by foam. Elwood was already swimming in the sea, barking happily every now and then. The rough sand tickled your feet, made your toes ache a little as you tried to avoid sharp seashells, seaweeds and pebbles stranded across the beach.

You shuddered as your feet were covered by the cold water brought by a wave.

“Holy shite! Andy! It’s too cold!”

He merely laughed at you, not hiding his bliss at seeing you so riled up.

“Come on! It’s not that cold. We don’t even need shoes or gloves…”

“Only you can think that not risking to lose my toes and fingers to hypothermia is reason enough for me not to think the water is fucking freezing!”

“It’s gonna be fun!”

You mumbled some curses as you moved further in the water, but Andrew wasn’t dragging you onwards now. Instead, he was still holding your hand, standing by your side and waiting for you to move further in the water at your own pace.

You shuddered again as water splashed across your chest, but then decided to simply dive fully under the water. It felt like being stung by needles, but the feeling was electrifying too.

You emerged gasping for air, while Andrew was chuckling next to you. And then he disappeared under the surface as well.

Once you had begun swimming, the cold was bearable, the effort to fight the waves and the current enough to keep your muscles warm. You had to admit that you had a bit of fun, until the wind started to get stronger and your teeth began chattering.

Andrew noticed, frowned at the sight.

“Alright, I think we’ve had enough,” he said, and you didn’t need him to say it twice before hurrying to the shore.

You couldn’t deny that it felt good, that you had fun in the water with Andy, swimming and playing together, and splashing him with water. You were so cold now though, you hurried back to your towel and clothes, and tried to get dry as fast as you could.

“You’re alright?” Andrew asked, his tone worried now.

You nodded, although your chattering teeth didn’t allow you to speak.

“Christ, you’re freezing…”

You were too busy rubbing the towel against your legs to reply.

Even after you had changed back into your clothes, Andrew holding up towels to hide you as you changed and looking away with a soft blush on his cheeks, you were still cold. You were surprised when Andrew started vigorously rubbing your arms to warm you up.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just cold.”

“Didn’t know you easily turned into an ice cube!”

You didn’t think as you hurried into his arms. He simply seemed so warm now, wearing a green woollen jumper and a warm brown coat. He wrapped his coat around you, engulfing you into his warmth, holding you close.

You rested your ear against his chest, listened to the steady beating of his heart, although its pace was a little fast.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if you didn’t have fun…”

“I had fun. It was nice. Although, I don’t think you’ll turn me into a winter swimmer.”

“Apparently not.”

“I don’t trust you for anything else now, just so you know. You have lost my trust. When you say ‘fun activity’, I know now that you mean ‘trying to kill you with hypothermia’.”

He laughed at that.

“So… you won’t come to my place tonight, then? A shame… I’ve bought everything to make you a pizza.”

“You mean… you actually making a pizza from scratch?”

“Yep.”

“I will reevaluate my trusting issues because that sounds bloody delicious…”

He laughed, the sound bright and merry in the cold wind of morning. You didn’t know how he did it so often, coming here before work to swim several times a week.

You felt him resting his lips on the top of your head, but didn’t acknowledge the gesture, didn’t think about it too much. You closed your eyes, feeling much better already…

Until Elwood finally joined you, and decided to dry his fur right next to you, sending droplets of water everywhere.

“Elwood!” Andrew complained, but you merely laughed, hiding into Andrew’s coat for protection. ‘Christ… you have no manners!”

He started laughing as well, being careful to keep you close.

“What about we grab some coffee before heading to work?” he asked into your hair, the warmth of his breath contrasting with the cold wind.

“Oh yes! And I’ll buy a muffin!”

He chuckled at that.

“I’ll buy you one. My treat, for thanking you for coming with me today.”

“I hate you a little for how cold that was. But it was fun, and invigorating. I get why you like doing it. I will… let the swimming in the cold sea to you though. Next time you want company, I’ll simply wait for you on the beach and play with Elwood.”

“Giving up so easily,” he teased.

“Say that to my fingers, they’re still numb!”

He took your hands in his, you were surprised by his gesture. He made sure to fully enclose them in his hold to warm them up.

“Better?” he asked in a soft, tender voice.

When you looked up at him, his curls were still wet from the sea, droplets falling from them and catching the light of the young sun. His cheeks were flushed with the cold, or maybe with something else too, you weren’t sure. What was certain was that he looked so handsome like this, his lips reddened by the cold tempting you, while you wondered if you would taste the ocean on his mouth if you kissed him…

His eyes were fully green this morning, leaves caught in a midsummer sun. And his gaze was so tender when he looked down at you, you wondered if Frank had ever looked at you this way…

Slowly, you nodded, not trusting your own voice. But Elwood started barking, bringing you both back to earth.

You took a step back, freed your hands from his gentle hold.

And you tried very hard, but it was difficult to slow down the beating of your heart.

Saoirse was struggling.

H-B had proposed his students an exercise today. They had to analyse a text, and could use their laptop to make some research about it if necessary. They could work in small groups as well. At the end of the lecture, they would combine their ideas, and get their professor’s feedback.

And everything was going well at the beginning, so much so that their teacher had stopped wandering through the classroom and was now sitting behind his desk, clearly working on something else given how absorbed he was by his screen. Only, Saoirse’s group was now stuck and running out of ideas. Flann O’Brien really was kicking her arse. Even Sean was struggling, and he did better than her in this class.

Sean… Mary, that piece of shite… she was hitting on him so hard, it was indecent at this point. It made Saoirse nauseous. And Sean didn’t tell her to stop, that he wasn’t interested, which had to mean that he was, indeed, interested. In Mary? Really? She was stupid. The only conversation she could hold for more than two minutes were about like… two subjects. Besides, they had nothing in common. Seamus loved rugby and hurling, she liked basketball. He loved cinema, she hadn’t watched a movie in months. She loved fashion, and Sean didn’t care about clothes. She was a rich, privileged young woman when Sean didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair of shoes. Last week, she had spent half an hour complaining about the temperature of the private pool in her house, because it was ‘too hot to stay in for longer than forty-five minutes tops’. She didn’t care about classes, didn’t study much and didn’t care whether or not she would pass this year, when Sean was studying all the time…

What could Sean find interesting in her?

She sent him another of her disgustingly sweet smiles, and Saoirse was this close from throwing up… or punching her in the teeth, both options seemed plausible reactions.

“I think we should ask H-B… I really don’t know what else we can get out of this section,” Phoebe sighed.

Saoirse looked up, but their professor was still absorbed by whatever task he was completing on his laptop, and had stopped paying attention to his students.

“I’ll go ask him,” Saoirse offered, happy to escape Mary for a moment.

What could Sean see in her? She was dumb, and pretty, and rich, and carefree, and funny, and…

Christ, would he go out with her? Would he have a girlfriend? Why did she hate that thought anyway? They were just friends, he could date whoever he wanted!

And yet her heart sank at the thought…

She stood in front of her teacher’s desk, but he seemed too busy to notice her. She couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at his screen…

… and she was surprised to find that he wasn’t working at all, but browsing in search of a projector. Why would he want to buy a projector?

“Erm… professor?”

Andrew jumped, looking up at his student.

“Yes, Saoirse? Is everything alright?”

He hurried to close his laptop, clearly embarrassed.

“We’re kind of stuck… can we have a little bit of help?”

“Of course… of course…”

He cleared his throat, getting up to walk towards the small group. He was blushing hard, and Saoirse couldn’t help but find the sight adorable.

With their professor nearby, Mary’s flirting subsided, at long last. But once the class was over, that Sean and Saoirse were about to leave to grab a quick lunch before going to the library, Mary was back at it again.

“Sean! We’re going to a restaurant nearby with a couple of friends. Want to join us?”

He looked at Saoirse, who merely kept on packing her stuff in silence. After all, Mary was not addressing the invitation to her. She clearly only wanted Sean to come.

“Erm… we have classes this afternoon…”

“Oh, come on! You can miss a couple of lectures! It’ll be fun! Besides, I’m sure Saoirse will give you her notes, won’t she?”

He frowned hard at that remark, and Saoirse thought that it was because of Mary’s offer to skip classes. But she was taken aback by his answer.

“Wait… you weren’t inviting us?” he asked, making Mary laugh.

“I was inviting you, obviously.”

He blinked, then gathered his things again.

“Sorry, but I want to attend our classes this afternoon,” he declined, and Mary’s face fell.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Hope you enjoy your lunch.”

He turned to Saoirse, who was slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he told her, and she nodded, following him outside the room without a single look back towards Mary.

“Sorry about that,” Sean mumbled under his breath while they started to walk down a flight of stairs.

“Why are you apologising? You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“She was so impolite towards you… Christ, I knew she was hitting on me, but I thought she meant to invite everyone.”

“You could have accepted if you wanted to go out with her, I would have understood.”

“What makes you think I would want to date her? Have you ever listened to her? We have nothing in common.”

In her chest, Saoirse’s heart grew warm with contentment.

“Besides,” he added in a quieter voice, “I’d rather spend time with you, anyway.”

Her heart fluttered happily this time, and she pretended that their fingers grazing was just an accident as they both walked down the hall.

Dinner with Andrew was delicious.

The appointment with the tailor for Frank’s suit was approaching, and you were growing nervous, wanted to talk about it with him. Even if Andrew wasn’t so eager to get Sam back anymore, he still wanted to help you. You spent a long while talking about the upcoming wedding, about Frank, about Sam. By the time you had finished eating Andrew’s pizza and were slowly but surely emptying a bottle of red wine, your conversation had drifted towards other personal subjects. Your childhoods, your families…

You weren’t sure how you had found yourselves listening to one of Andrew’s jazz records, but you were now. You were the one convincing him to lie down on the ground to listen to it though. It heightened the experience, or at least, you claimed that it did. Elwood was unbothered by your antics, too busy playing with a plastic frog.

“I can’t believe you had to go through that.”

Andrew’s voice was quiet, barely audible above the saxophone of the vinyl playing. His ceiling had two long cracks running across its white, smooth surface. You studied their direction as you answered.

“Academic jobs are unforgiving for women.”

“They really asked you if you were planning on being pregnant in the coming months to accept you as a PhD student?”

You nodded, shuddering at the memory, at the humiliation that came with it.

“They didn’t ‘want to waste months’ if I got into the project and got pregnant. Also they considered that ‘if I wanted to have a baby, it meant I wasn’t prioritising work enough’. Of course, none of the male candidates had to answer any personal questions. I asked all of them. They were only interviewed about their knowledge in the field and their research project.”

“Fucking hell…”

“Yeah…”

You felt your throat tightening at the memory, at the sheer humiliation that came with being singled out because you were a woman, with being judged differently compared to men, with being reduced to a mother…

“What did you do?”

“I was too taken aback on the moment. I didn’t really know what to say, so I simply answered the question. I was chosen to get in. The same day, I had an interview with another team, one in Belfast. They were much nicer with me, didn’t ask me anything about me wanting to be a mother. So, I chose Belfast, left for Northern Ireland.”

“You were right to do so. Fucking pricks…”

He heaved a sigh.

“Did you report them?”

“They were the heads of department. They were the ones I should address the report to. What was the point? Besides, I was younger then, I didn’t know any better. I was worried about my career. I was scared.”

“The progress is too slow.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m really happy you didn’t give up, though. I’m really happy and proud to work with you.”

“Me too, Andy.”

You felt so vulnerable talking about this. And yet, you weren’t scared with Andrew lying next to you. The gentle music helped soothe you, open up pieces of your heart and soul that you longed to let out but had never dared to. Frank didn’t know about this story. You had cried so hard that night, on your own, and had never told him. You didn’t know why. Or rather, you did know why, but didn’t want to acknowledge that you shouldn’t have felt that way towards your partner.

You were worried he would not have cared…

“This is my favourite part of the song,” Andrew whispered, and you paid more attention to the music then.

There was such longing engraved in the notes, such nostalgia… you wanted to cry, or rather, tear your lungs apart, rip your heart out of your ribcage to make it stop yearning for a love you couldn’t have, one that you would likely never know…

On the cool tiles of the floor, you felt Andrew’s pinky finger brush against yours. You moved your finger to hold his.

There was a long silence, while you listened to the song. When Andrew spoke again his voice was shaking with emotion.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still love him?”

“What?”

“Frank. Do you still love him?”

You blinked, struggling to withhold your tears.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I just… I just want to understand.”

“Understand?”

“Why he’s better than me.”

You frowned hard, turning to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Sam left me for him. You…”

He seemed to hesitate, change his choice of words.

“You still have feelings for him, don’t you? Despite everything that happened? I don’t really understand why.”

You set your gaze on the ceiling again, tore the words from your throat.

“You still have feelings for Sam.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Because you’re falling for someone else?”

“Yeah…”

“Who is she? The woman you’re falling for?”

He looked at you then, you felt his gaze on you. You kept your own eyes on the ceiling, though.

He didn’t answer. You heard him drawing a sharp breath, but then he closed his mouth again and said nothing.

“I don’t know if I still love Frank,” you answered truthfully. “But I still want the life I had with him.”

“You could have that with someone else.”

“I want Frank… I want my life back.”

Andrew’s stare disappeared, you felt it as he looked at the ceiling again.

“As you wish.”

“Andy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think he could love me again?”

He didn’t answer, his silence spoke volume. You thought you would cry, but you didn’t.

“Someone else will love you, the way you truly deserve,” he spoke softly, his voice a little hoarse with emotions.

“The way I deserve…” you repeated the words to turn them in your mouth, taste their meaning and feel their weight, but he took it as a question.

“Deeply. Unconditionally,” he answered. “Religiously. Completely.”

“Do you really think someone could love me like that?”

He moved his hand to fully hold yours, intertwining your fingers together, and you let him.

“Y/N… I… I…”

He heaved a sigh. You heard him take in a shaky breath, but didn’t have the courage to look at anything but that crack running through the ceiling.

“Of course, I do, Y/N. Of course, I do. I know you are loved like that.”

Are…

You squeezed his hand, shuddered.

“I can’t wait to hear your poetry,” you decided to change the subject, feeling too vulnerable now.

“I’m so fucking nervous.”

“Don’t be! You’ll be brilliant. You were amazing that night, when you sang. You’ll be amazing at the reading too.”

“I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“I’m excited.”

“I hope I won’t disappoint.”

“You rarely disappoint, Andy.”

“That’s because you haven’t read my poetry yet.”

You laughed at that, feeling the atmosphere become lighter.

“I should go home, it’s late,” you reasoned yourself out loud.

“Hmm… or you could stay a little longer. We haven’t finished the album yet.”

You smiled, rubbed tender circles into the back of his hand.

“Besides… we might have a problem?”

“What problem?”

“I don’t think I can stand.”

You looked at him, at long last, frowning hard.

“There was a fight. My back vs the floor. The floor has clearly won.”

You started chuckling, but Andrew shook his head, although he was chuckling too.

“I’m not joking. I think I’ve thrown my back out.”

“Really?” you grew more serious.

“Yeah… really… I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

“Oh God! Christ! I’m so sorry, Andy.”

He chuckled.

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault. But… let’s not do that again alright?”

You got up, holding your painful back too.

“Oh God… are we really too old for this?” you joked.

“Imagine if you were my height?”

“I can’t, Treebeard.”

He chuckled, held out his hand.

“Please?”

You held his hand, carefully helped him up. He winced hard as he got to his feet, couldn’t stand straight.

“Alright, you should go to bed…”

“I’m okay…”

“Andy, you’re literally standing at a forty-degree angle!”

“I’m walking!”

“Go. To. Bed.”

“I was about to make a very dirty joke on that…”

“Thanks for sparing me.”

“You’re lucky I’m too much in pain to think of a proper comeback.”

He pointed at the kitchen.

“Third cupboard on the left. Painkillers… please…”

“Sure.”

You helped him to his bed, then went to seek his muscle relaxant and some painkillers along with a glass of water.

He was lying down again when you walked back into his bedroom.

“Stop feeling bad,” he admonished, reading right through you. “It’s not your fault. And it really isn’t too bad. I’ll be okay tomorrow morning. I just need my muscles to relax.”

“Alright…”

“Stop worrying. It happens all the time.”

“You’re in pain, of course, I’m worried!”

“You look cute when you’re like this.”

You looked away at his words, you noticed how he blushed before swallowing the pills.

“Do you need anything?” you asked him, but he shook his head.

“No… do you want to watch something with me?”

“It’s late, I should go home.”

“Oh… okay.”

He seemed disappointed, your heart grew warm at the sight, at the thought that he wanted you to stay.

“I don’t want to risk falling asleep behind the wheel.”

“You could stay. I have a spare bedroom.”

You pondered on the offer for a moment, but you yielded easily.

“Alright, I’ll grab your laptop. What are we watching?”

“Anything you want.”

“Something terrible then…”

“Why do you want to make me suffer? You’ve already broken my back…”

You laughed wickedly at him, but chose a nice movie instead.

An hour later, Andrew was less in pain, and you were fast asleep, lying by his side, in his bed.

He stopped the movie, grabbed his laptop, opened a word document. His back was still too painful for him to join you in Morpheus’s arms. Instead, he watched you as you slept, knowing that you would soon wake up again, apologise and be adorable in your embarrassment, and then you would get up and go to bed in the other bedroom; and he would regret feeling the bend of the mattress under your weight by his side, your warmth that spread through the sheets, the quiet rhythm of your breathing. But for now you were still there, asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful…

He could have said it. Tonight, he could have said it. Confessed it all. He hadn’t. He was about to let it slip between his fingers, but he was afraid to try to hold you and make you fly away instead. Just like a bird one would try to trap in a cage.

He stared at you for a moment longer, then set his gaze on the blank page before him.

He started typing.

I couldn’t utter my love when it counted…

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